#first snow (2006) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sp-by-april · 5 days

Text

Dying To Know - 01. A Quiet Place

Okay, so this is a slasher/yandere fic. It's also like, the first chapter and mostly laying the groundwork for everything to come.

It's Eric, Kenny, Kyle, Stan x F!Reader. No Smut this chapter, but I promise we will get there. 😭

Summary: There's a slasher on the loose and students at South Park High are being taken out one by one. You're at the center of it all, and it doesn't help that each of your four best friends is acting weird.

[Chapter Two] [Read on Ao3] [South Park Master Lists]

Heidi Turner was scared. She’d been stalking – No, investigating The New Girl again. Heidi followed her home as she walked with Stan, Kenny, Kyle and Eric. They were completely stupid about that chick, constantly following her around like fresh hatchlings that imprinted on the wrong creature. It made Heidi sick.

They walked her home, argued about walking her home – who said what, who touched her where or too much – and then they split up. Eric headed to his place, Kyle and Stan to the Broflovski’s and Kenny to… wherever the fuck of several places Kenny liked roam to instead of going home.

She considered approaching Kyle first, but she went to Eric instead.

“The New Girl isn’t what you think,” Heidi pleaded with him, but Eric waved her off.

He called her a jealous psycho and it made Heidi’s blood boil. She stalked home and fumed the whole way. As she stepped onto her front porch, Heidi heard a familiar chime from her purse. It was a text message. She pulled out her cell, (a trendy, freshly purchased LG Chocolate) and opened the text.

It said only two words: Come back.

She rolled her eyes. It was 2006 and cell service was supposedly improving but the shit was still consistently spotty in Park County. Of course she didn’t get the text until she was already home, that was just her luck.

Heidi turned around and headed back to Eric’s.

🕐 🕕 🕚

High school is tough for everyone, but I had an especially rough junior year. My father died, and my mother moved us back to her hometown. I think it was a comfort thing for her. It was a bumfuck place in some flyover state that I’d only ever been a few times to visit extended family members that I never liked or cared about.

South Park, Colorado. There were two temperatures, cold and colder. Almost everything was covered in a layer of melting ice that somehow never finished thawing. Snow crunched under my heels like skeletons of the friends I left behind.

Once we moved, my mother completely checked out. I was pretty much left to fend for myself. The whole thing was overwhelming. Luckily, I ended up with a group of new friends.

Eric Cartman was…. Weird. I thought the guy hated me most of the time. He would always make subtle digs about my family, something I said, or an item of clothing I was wearing. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to realize that he was pretty much negging me. I couldn’t escape the guy, either. He was in most of my classes and for whatever reason if there was a group project, we always got paired up. At first, I only put up with him because I liked his other friends so much.

Stan Marsh was hot in an obvious way. Great body. Started a band called Crimson Dawn and they played gigs regularly. He had this kind of tortured artist vibe that I really dug. He reeked of inner turmoil, you know what I mean? I was always a sucker for that kind of thing.

I got close to Stan first, and fast. He would walk me to class. Eat lunch with me. Invite me to shows. It was actually at one of his bands shows that I started getting close to Kenny.

Kenny McCormick was an interesting guy. Obviously, I saw him around school and knew him through Stan, but he was surprisingly social. He got along well with everyone. One night we got drunk and just talked about how much our parents sucked. He was so easy to talk to and he’s a really funny guy. I like him a lot. As I got to know him more, I realized that one of the things that made Kenny special was that he had secrets. I tried not to pry too much

As a matter of fact, all the guys were pretty easy to get to know.

Except for Kyle.

Kyle Broflovski was kind of an enigma at first. A basketball player at the top of his classes. He didn’t start fights, but he’d finish them. He had a bold streak that I really admired. I don’t know what his deal was, but it seemed like he had kind of a wall built up. He was hard for me to get to know at first. I always felt awkward around him.

Which sucked, because I was crushing really hard.

I always thought Eric would be the one keeping me out of the friend group, but from what I heard, the resistance came from Kyle. It was a huge blow to my ego.

I’m not trying to brag when I tell you this, but I’m a pretty girl and I’ve never really had trouble when it comes to guys. Attention from men is so easy to come by, it’s practically worthless… You know what I mean?

But Kyle was withholding. It just made me crush harder.

Once I was informally part of the friend group, I didn’t fit in like a missing puzzle piece or whatever poetic metaphor that would’ve completed the fantasy… It was more like we were all a bunch of feral dogs that latched onto each other for safety while we navigated the perils of young adulthood.

When senior year started, things were pretty normal. It was our first day of our last year and I was at the bus stop with the guys. Stan was smoking a cigarette and Kenny was unsuccessfully trying to get him to share. Eric was ranting about something some celebrity said, while Kyle and I were doing our best to ignore him. I was wearing an unseasonably short skirt with a comically large sweater. The leaves were crunching under my maryjanes while I did a dance familiar to any girl who once pretended she wasn’t freezing her ass off for the sake of being cute.

Then I heard something. Like screaming. It was coming towards us.

Kyle exchanged a look with me, and Kenny’s head shot up. Stan glanced around. Eric finally got the memo but by then we all saw him.

Butters was running right for us, yelling something indecipherable.

By the time he reached us, he was panting so much that we still couldn’t understand him.

“Hyhe!,” Butters panted as he bent over and rested his palms on his knees, “Hyhee’s gone,”

Eric frowned at him, “Try it again, but this time say it in English,”

“She’s dead” Butters continued and we all understood that.

Kyle took a step towards him, “Who’s dead?

Butters looked up, his eyes darting between Kyle and Eric, “...Heidi Turner,”

It was like the oxygen had been sucked right out of the atmosphere. I only knew Heidi because we were both on the A-Squad in Cheer, but I guess her ties to my friends ran a lot deeper.

I’d been in town six months, but I still had a lot to learn about everyone.

The bus ride to school was illuminating. I sat in between Stan and Kenny. Eric and Kyle sat in front of us. Neither of them said a word. Every student around us was buzzing, discussing Heidi’s death and theorizing about the hows and whys.

“It’s a twisted mess,” Stan said quietly as his eyes rolled to the sky, “She bounced back and forth between them for like two years,”

Kenny put his arm around my shoulder and his mouth hovered over my ear, “Until you showed up,”

“Weird coincidence,” I said, tugging at the hem of my sweater.

“Maybe,” Stan lifted Kenny’s arm off of me and he leaned back against the seat, “Maybe not,”

My eyes narrowed, “What the hell does that mean?”

Stan sighed and shook his head.

Kenny’s head tilted as he looked at me, “You’ve gotta kn–”

“Shut up,” Stan groaned.

Kenny frowned and did just that.

He crossed his arms and we were as silent for the rest of the ride as Eric and Kyle were.

I know it was selfish, but I was frustrated. I had only just started making headway with Kyle and now his ex-girlfriend had to go and die. It’s kind of the worst time in the History of Everything to ask a guy out.

When we all piled out of the bus Principal Victoria was there. She pulled aside Eric, Kyle…. And me.

We sat in her office with Sergeant Yates. It was the most awkward I ever felt in my life. To make things worse, I couldn’t figure out why I was there. I was sure there had to be some mistake.

There wasn’t.

Cartman crossed his arms, “Look – Heidi died and we all knew her. We don’t need a counseling session,”

Kyle slumped back in his chair and agreed with Eric for once, “He’s right,”

Yates looked between the three of us, “No talking,”

Kyle’s face twisted up and I could tell he was resisting the urge to push back. Honestly, so was I.

The door opened and Detective Murphy’s head popped into the room, “Okay, we’ve got the cheerleaders,”

Yates pointed to me, “Take this one,”

“Is she the one–”

“Yeah,” Yates gestured for me to stand and I obeyed.

Murphy had a distinct grimace on his face as I walked towards him. His facial expression combined with the way they talked about me didn’t inspire confidence.

Waiting in the hall were my other squad members, Nichole Daniels, Bebe Stevens and our captain, Wendy Testaburger. We followed the Detective to our counselor’s office. We stood around for like a half hour and he ushered us outside and into a police van.

They drove us down to the station and finally brought us into an interrogation room.

I sat next to Bebe and tried to ignore her as she pulled a nail file out of her purse and went to work. Nichole looked at me nervously, “Do they think we’re suspects?” “I doubt it,” Wendy said emphatically, “We still have all our belongings”

Wendy was right. They would’ve taken our backpacks and purses, but they didn’t. So what did that mean?

We waited for what felt like hours until Yates could come back to the station and talk to us. He wasn’t alone – He’d brought our parents.

He looked between us nervously, “I’m gonna cut to the chase. Heidi Turner was murdered,”

Gasps, groans and a heavy air of fear fell over the room like a shroud.

“What’s this got to do with our daughters?” Mrs. Daniels said, “Surely you don’t think they’re capable–“

“We think they could be the next victims,” He continued.

Dead silence.

“We can’t divulge too much information on a current case but we found trinkets belonging to each of you, scribblings that appeared to be satanic – and an obsession with one of you in particular,”

“Who?” Mr. Testaburger asked.

Yates pointed directly at me.

My mother was aghast. He gave no more details. He just told our parents to lock us down, and to get out of town if we had the means. ‘Think of it like a short vacation,’ I think were the words he used. Then he sent us home.

None of us went back to school that day.

It didn’t matter, because about an hour later the students at South Park High were informed that the day had been cut in half and they were going home. About an hour after that, word started to spread that there would be a county-wide mandatory curfew for anyone under 18.

It was about another hour after that that I heard something tapping at my window.

I had been staring at my bedroom ceiling listening to the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, just rotting in bed. I hopped up and struggled to open the misshapen window. Once I had it up I saw the guys standing below me. Stan waved, Kenny grinned and dropped a handful of pebbles to the ground, Eric gave me a dismissive nod and Kyle had his back to the house.

I hung half way out the window so I could talk to them without my mother hearing, “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t hear?” Stan blinked as he looked up at me, “They canceled school,”

“The real question is what’re you still doing up there?” Kenny asked.

“You didn’t hear?” I playfully mocked Stan’s previous tone, “I’m on lock down,”

Kyle turned around and looked up at me. I think my heart skipped a beat as he stepped towards my window. I had an instant fantasy in my head of him climbing up the trellis.

“Do they think you’re in danger?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I glanced away from him as I sheepishly admitted the truth, “Apparently they found some creepy shrine to me or something,”

The guys all exchanged a series of looks. I thought I caught most of it, but honestly a lot of their short-hand still went over my head.

Kyle frowned at Kenny. Kenny shook his head and then looked up at me, “When’s your mom leaving?”

“Twenty minutes give or take,” I shrugged, “Assuming she doesn’t catch you guys out here,”

Stan nodded. Kenny saluted. Kyle turned back around and Eric followed suit. I’d never seen those two so in sync.

What a weird fuckin’ day.

It was about to get a lot weirder.

#south park x you #south park x y/n #south park x reader #south park fanfiction #south park fanfic #south park #south park imagine #sp fanfiction #south park drabble #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman x reader #stan marsh x you #kyle broflovski x you #kenny mccormick x you #eric cartman x you

65 notes · View notes

book--brackets · 2 months

Text

Simon Snow by Rainbow Rowell (2015-2021)

Simon Snow is the worst chosen one who’s ever been chosen.

That’s what his roommate, Baz, says. And Baz might be evil and a vampire and a complete git, but he’s probably right.

Half the time, Simon can’t even make his wand work, and the other half, he sets something on fire. His mentor’s avoiding him, his girlfriend broke up with him, and there’s a magic-eating monster running around wearing Simon’s face. Baz would be having a field day with all this, if he were here—it’s their last year at the Watford School of Magicks, and Simon’s infuriating nemesis didn’t even bother to show up.

Carry On is a ghost story, a love story, a mystery and a melodrama. It has just as much kissing and talking as you’d expect from a Rainbow Rowell story—but far, far more monsters.

Gentleman Bastard by Scott Lynch (2006-present)

An orphan's life is harsh — and often short — in the island city of Camorr, built on the ruins of a mysterious alien race. But born with a quick wit and a gift for thieving, Locke Lamora has dodged both death and slavery, only to fall into the hands of an eyeless priest known as Chains — a man who is neither blind nor a priest.

A con artist of extraordinary talent, Chains passes his skills on to his carefully selected "family" of orphans — a group known as the Gentlemen Bastards. Under his tutelage, Locke grows to lead the Bastards, delightedly pulling off one outrageous confidence game after another. Soon he is infamous as the Thorn of Camorr, and no wealthy noble is safe from his sting.

Passing themselves off as petty thieves, the brilliant Locke and his tightly knit band of light-fingered brothers have fooled even the criminal underworld's most feared ruler, Capa Barsavi. But there is someone in the shadows more powerful — and more ambitious — than Locke has yet imagined.

Known as the Gray King, he is slowly killing Capa Barsavi's most trusted men — and using Locke as a pawn in his plot to take control of Camorr's underworld. With a bloody coup under way threatening to destroy everyone and everything that holds meaning in his mercenary life, Locke vows to beat the Gray King at his own brutal game — or die trying...

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke (2020)

Piranesi's house is no ordinary building: its rooms are infinite, its corridors endless, its walls are lined with thousands upon thousands of statues, each one different from all the others. Within the labyrinth of halls an ocean is imprisoned; waves thunder up staircases, rooms are flooded in an instant. But Piranesi is not afraid; he understands the tides as he understands the pattern of the labyrinth itself. He lives to explore the house.

There is one other person in the house--a man called The Other, who visits Piranesi twice a week and asks for help with research into A Great and Secret Knowledge. But as Piranesi explores, evidence emerges of another person, and a terrible truth begins to unravel, revealing a world beyond the one Piranesi has always known.

The Broken Earth Trilogy by N. K. Jemisin (2015-2017)

This is the way the world ends. . .for the last time.

It starts with the great red rift across the heart of the world's sole continent, spewing ash that blots out the sun. It starts with death, with a murdered son and a missing daughter. It starts with betrayal, and long dormant wounds rising up to fester.

This is the Stillness, a land long familiar with catastrophe, where the power of the earth is wielded as a weapon. And where there is no mercy.

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness (2011)

Conor has the same dream every night, ever since his mother first fell ill, ever since she started the treatments that don't quite seem to be working. But tonight is different. Tonight, when he wakes, there's a visitor at his window. It's ancient, elemental, a force of nature. And it wants the most dangerous thing of all from Conor. It wants the truth.

Patrick Ness takes the final idea of the late, award-winning writer Siobhan Dowd and weaves an extraordinary and heartbreaking tale of mischief, healing and above all, the courage it takes to survive.

The Sandman by Neil Gaiman (1990-2003)

In PRELUDES & NOCTURNES, an occultist attempting to capture Death to bargain for eternal life traps her younger brother Dream instead. After his 70 year imprisonment and eventual escape, Dream, also known as Morpheus, goes on a quest for his lost objects of power. On his arduous journey Morpheus encounters Lucifer, John Constantine, and an all-powerful madman.

The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang (2018-2020)

When Rin aced the Keju—the Empire-wide test to find the most talented youth to learn at the Academies—it was a shock to everyone: to the test officials, who couldn’t believe a war orphan from Rooster Province could pass without cheating; to Rin’s guardians, who believed they’d finally be able to marry her off and further their criminal enterprise; and to Rin herself, who realized she was finally free of the servitude and despair that had made up her daily existence. That she got into Sinegard—the most elite military school in Nikan—was even more surprising.

But surprises aren’t always good.

Because being a dark-skinned peasant girl from the south is not an easy thing at Sinegard. Targeted from the outset by rival classmates for her color, poverty, and gender, Rin discovers she possesses a lethal, unearthly power—an aptitude for the nearly-mythical art of shamanism. Exploring the depths of her gift with the help of a seemingly insane teacher and psychoactive substances, Rin learns that gods long thought dead are very much alive—and that mastering control over those powers could mean more than just surviving school.

For while the Nikara Empire is at peace, the Federation of Mugen still lurks across a narrow sea. The militarily advanced Federation occupied Nikan for decades after the First Poppy War, and only barely lost the continent in the Second. And while most of the people are complacent to go about their lives, a few are aware that a Third Poppy War is just a spark away . . .

Rin’s shamanic powers may be the only way to save her people. But as she finds out more about the god that has chosen her, the vengeful Phoenix, she fears that winning the war may cost her humanity . . . and that it may already be too late.

Villains by V. E. Schwab (2013-present)

Victor and Eli started out as college roommates—brilliant, arrogant, lonely boys who recognized the same sharpness and ambition in each other. In their senior year, a shared research interest in adrenaline, near-death experiences, and seemingly supernatural events reveals an intriguing possibility: that under the right conditions, someone could develop extraordinary abilities. But when their thesis moves from the academic to the experimental, things go horribly wrong.

Ten years later, Victor breaks out of prison, determined to catch up to his old friend (now foe), aided by a young girl whose reserved nature obscures a stunning ability. Meanwhile, Eli is on a mission to eradicate every other super-powered person that he can find—aside from his sidekick, an enigmatic woman with an unbreakable will. Armed with terrible power on both sides, driven by the memory of betrayal and loss, the archnemeses have set a course for revenge—but who will be left alive at the end?

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (2015)

Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life.

Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood.

The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her.

But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.

Legacy of Orisha by Tomi Adeyemi (2018-2024)

They killed my mother. They took our magic. They tried to bury us. Now we rise. Zélie Adebola remembers when the soil of Orïsha hummed with magic. Burners ignited flames, Tiders beckoned waves, and Zélie's Reaper mother summoned forth souls. But everything changed the night magic disappeared. Under the orders of a ruthless king, maji were killed, leaving Zélie without a mother and her people without hope. Now Zélie has one chance to bring back magic and strike against the monarchy. With the help of a rogue princess, Zélie must outwit and outrun the crown prince, who is hell-bent on eradicating magic for good. Danger lurks in Orïsha, where snow leoponaires prowl and vengeful spirits wait in the waters. Yet the greatest danger may be Zélie herself as she struggles to control her powers -and her growing feelings for an enemy.

#best fantasy book #poll #simon snow #gentleman bastards #piranesi #the broken earth #a monster calls #the sandman #the poppy war #villains #uprooted #legacy of orisha

82 notes · View notes

mindblowingscience · 9 months

Text

Close to 18 years ago, astronomers spotted a miniature, icy world named Eris billions of miles beyond Neptune. But unlike its dwarf planet cousin Pluto — which New Horizons promoted to a rich, dynamic world after its visit in 2015 — Eris has not had any robotic visitors. It is so far away from Earth, in fact, that it shows up in observations just as a single pixel of light. All in all, scientists know very little about what happens on Eris. Though what we do know is Eris is known to have an atmosphere that freezes and snows onto the surface below, thanks to its place near the edge of the solar system. It's about 68 times farther from the sun than Earth is. And now, new models based on data from an array of radio telescopes in Chile have revealed more about Eris. Heat leftover from the dwarf planet's birth seems to be oozing out and slowly flexing its icy surface. The process is causing Eris to behave less like a solid, rocky planet and "more like a soft cheese or something like that," study co-author Francis Nimmo of the University of California Santa Cruz said in a statement. "It has a tendency to flow a bit." While a lot still remains unknown about Eris, it is considered an "almost perfect" twin of Pluto — both dwarf planets are nearly exactly the same size. Actually, when it was first spotted in 2005, it appeared to be slightly bigger than Pluto, triggering a debate among scientists. This had led the International Astronomical Union (IAU) to clarify its definition of a planet and demote Pluto to a dwarf planet. It was thanks to this contention in the scientific community that the IAU in 2006 named the dwarf planet Eris, after the Greek goddess of discord.

#Space #Astronomy #Planets #Pluto #Eris

143 notes · View notes

junedenim · 13 days

Text

2006

beneath the boardwalk, part 4 (series masterlist)

505

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, sobbing, etc.

word count: 11.1k

In a boring fashion, Alex and I spent the winter much like winters' past. Time froze in that corner of our world and lifetimes existed between the drive from Wakefield to High Green. Charlton Brook was experiencing an ice age but we'd still drive out to as close as we could get without getting out of my car.

Alex would be stuffed in several layers of clothing and his hair was always messy but always fell in the right place. We'd make out and I'd mess it up more and it felt like nothing else existed outside of it.

Some unknown song would play quietly in the background (one time "When the Sun Goes Down" played and I refused to let Alex turn it off and he refused to kiss me during it so we sat in silence in the car listening to it) and we'd occupied ourselves with kissing, talking, and playing cards.

We began a tournament in Gin Rummy over my school recess and his touring break. Said tournament has continued since then. We never established a number we were playing to and so we have decided that the winner will be determined in death, however morbid that is. I had the lead that winter but over the summer Alex would overtake me. I seem to do best in winter while Al dominates in summer.

"Are we boring?" I asked him.

"Hmm?"

"We've grown old and boring. We're playing Gin Rummy in my car at 11 AM."

He chuckled. "We've always been this way, Janie. We used to sit in a room and write in silence. It was glorified old married couple."

I wanted to ask him if he thought we'd be an old married couple, instead, I asked, "How do you think we'd be as an old married couple?"

He shrugged and discarded an ace. "I don't think we'd be boring. Maybe settled. But we'd always have something interesting. Even if music fails and you give up on writing—which I'd never allow—I can't imagine us not being the intelligent fun couple. Maybe I'd be boring but you never."

"With all my neuroses?"

"Of course," he over-enthusiastically said. "But you're too interesting and funny to be boring."

"Same to you."

"Even if I was, I'll be the old guy who sits in the corner and doesn't say anything. You'll have to do all the talking for me."

I laughed. "I'm fine with that." We shared a smile and I knew I'd love him forever, even if we crashed and burned, he'd always be my first love. "You know the thing you said about being intelligent?"

"Yeah?"

"Clearly you aren't." I scooped up his discarded ace and put down my ace three-of-a-kind and then placed my last card face down. With a smug look, I said, "Gin."

He threw his head back after watching the whole scene. "Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have done that. I knew—I knew you had to have had the other aces. Fuck."

One afternoon, the snow was thick and we deemed it too heavy to drive around in, which conveniently meant Alex would likely stay the night. In my room, Alex and I sat around in our routine of playing cards and listening to the radio. I had the fuzzy socks he got me for Christmas, which might seem like a cheap Christmas gift (it was) but back in our tour bus summer I had mentioned it to him and he had clearly noted it.

I was shuffling the deck of cards and he was rubbing my feet after I insisted the foot rub would help them warm up. The radio was soft and for the whole morning, the house had been quiet, which should have been the warning alarm.

A loud crash rang from downstairs followed by my parents' loud yelling. I rolled my eyes and fell backward onto my rug. "There goes a peaceful afternoon," I said.

"Do you want to sneak out of here?" He asked. Alex had never witnessed my parents' arguments; they were generally further apart as I grew up because they decided it was best if they never spent any time around each other but when they did occur they were long-winded and brutal.

"Where? It's freezing and it's not like we can walk down through the front door with them yelling there."

"We could go out through your window."

I laughed. "And fall to our death?"

"We might be alright in the snow."

"No, let's just hide out here."

He stood up and turned up the radio. "It's gotta help out a little."

"Thanks."

He hummed along to the song and I giggled. "What an inappropriate song for this moment," I quipped.

He chuckled but shook his head. "Nah, I think it works for us. You know, 'Until the poets run out of rhymes' and all that."

"You're getting all soft on me." I flicked his nose, bashful under his heavy gaze.

"I've always been soft."

"You're gonna do your best to keep me satisfied?"

He jumped up, tackling me down onto the floor. I shrieked to the floor. If he didn't kiss me you would have thought we were wrestling. "Baby I'm Yours" fading in the background as a knock sounded on the door.

Alex rolled off and I muttered an annoyed, "Jesus."

I stood and opened my bedroom door where, thankfully, Stacey stood on the other side. "I need a fallout shelter here," she said. I widened the door. She stepped in and sat on the edge of my bed. "You guys playing cards? God, you're lame."

Alex chuckled. Stacey and he hadn't hung out much but had always gotten along and had a laugh with one another. "You want to play with us?"

She shrugged. "Sure." As I continued shuffling the cards she reamed us out more, saying things like, "If I had a boyfriend we'd be making out all the time."

"Maybe that's why you don't have a boyfriend," I replied. Alex laughed into his elbow not wanting to anger Stacey.

"No!" She insisted. "All the guys at my school are duds."

"You're 14, everyone is supposed to be duds at 14," I told her as I dealt out the cards.

She fought back, ever snippy and snarky. I have no clue where she learned it from... "You had a boyfriend at 14."

"I wish I didn't." Owen Stenison, blonde-haired, brown eyes, and a breath that tasted like tuna.

"You had a boyfriend at 14?" Alex questioned. We didn't often dive into past relationships, likely because I had a much longer list than him. He had two girlfriends before me, neither super serious.

"Yeah, and it was like the hundredth guy she had been with," Stacey mocked.

"Shut up," I bite back.

She held her hands up defensively. "I'm not shaming."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"I'm jealous."

"Well, don't be, it wasn't very fun." Is it cheesy to say that I didn't know real love until Alex? Probably. So, I'll just say I hadn't ever had a proper relationship prior to Alex. I had never celebrated a Valentine's Day.

Stacey sighed, "Has to be more fun than being single."

"You're 14 this is the time to be single."

"Bullshit. That's hypocritical from someone in a relationship then and now."

"I wish I had waited."

"Load of shite."

I shrugged. "I don't know. It would've been nice for Alex to be my first boyfriend."

"How virgin pure of you. You're a secret prude."

Alex, watching the exchange from the sidelines, burst out laughing and I rolled my eyes. "Just pick up your cards."

The night before Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not was released, the band performed at The Leadmill. It was bittersweet, the end to a chapter of our lives that likely ended months ago but we knew things would be much different after that day. We'd also be separating yet again, which was no longer atypical.

I spent the concert with Alex's parents and while Stacey expressed a desire to be at the show, she elected to sleep over at a friend's house instead. In retrospect, it isn't shocking for me to consider the show with Penny and David as being fun but it was very unexpected at the time.

After the show when parents departed and drinks flowed, I found Alex outside the bar. He had a half-ashed cigarette in his hand and I questioned his sanity wearing only his hoodie in the Northern England January chill.

"Can I bum one?" I shouted down to him.

It took a moment for him to register it was me, a smile slowly spread across his face as I inched closer. "Depends. What do I get?"

I dug into his pocket, feeling his stomach through the cloth, and took the pack for myself. "My witty repartee."

"Well, in that case." He sparked his lighter and burned my end for me.

I leaned beside him on the wall. My head against the cold bricks. "What are you doing out here?"

He grinned down at his feet. "Cheesy to say I was waiting for you?"

I giggled with pleasure and shook my head. "I don't believe you." I blew my smoke out directly into his face.

Alex shook his head and pulled me into his, wrapping his arms around me and holding me so close I could have sworn we briefly had one body. My hands tucked under his jacket and my fingers fist in his shirt and he shivered from the chill of my hands.

"You want my jacket?" I joked.

He kissed my temple. "This tour is gonna suck without you."

"Liar."

"Well, I'll enjoy it." We both chuckled. "But it won't be the same."

"I should just quit school."

"You should," he facetiously agreed for a moment, looking down at me fondly. "No, you shouldn't do that because who am I going to brag about?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Brag about?"

"Yeah, I brag about you all the time."

I laughed. "It's not like I go to Oxford. What are you bragging about?"

He pulled back slightly to get a clearer look at me. "You have to stop undervaluing yourself so much. If you met yourself, you'd be your favourite person."

"You're my favourite person."

He gathered me up again, and kissed me, deepening it. It was messy, turned into brazen and shameless. I backed him against the wall, and the bass beat against his spine.

At the end of February, the band played in London and attended the NME Awards. Alex brought me as his plus one. He wore an anorak over a long-sleeve blue shirt with jeans. I wore a black button-up with black jeans and black heeled boots. I didn't mean to come off as a gothy soul but I didn't have anything fancy and my mother has always told me black is classy. The rest of the band looked like they were dressed like they had to wait at the bus stop in the freezing cold for an hour. Everyone else was fancy-dressed compared to us as Alex would chastise in one of his speeches.

It was at Hammersmith Palais, a year before it was demolished. It was hard to get an appreciation for the building as everything was decked out in NME slogans and everyone was looking to get a piece of the band. For the first time, I was confronted with the question: "Are you his girlfriend?"

I swallowed my drink and nodded. I had a hard time wrapping my head around Alex no longer being my secret. In the coming months, this would grow into a bigger, uncontrollable thing where I would become forever known as "Alex Turner's girlfriend." In the beginning, there was pride in it that my boyfriend was successful and achieving height so long. Then, being referenced as that left me worried. I worried for my future where I would always be referred to in relation to him rather than an individual with a career. Later that night, the first paparazzi photo would be taken of us on the way to the after-party. I was nervous.

During the show, each time the band accepted their awards, totaling 3, we had progressively gotten drunker and drunker and drunker. It was free alcohol, who was gonna turn that down? Especially since the royalties check was still pending. Bob Geldof called Russell Brand a cunt, something that has only aged more gloriously. Ryan Jarman of The Cribs, who are from Wakefield, threw himself onto Kaiser Chiefs's table and had to have an ambulance called because he was bleeding profusely.

Alex came and sat beside me after his last speech, in which he boasted that the band had no competition in the category of Best British Band. I called him "a cocky son of a bitch" and he kissed my cheek and got me another drink. We both got too drunk to remember the rest of it.

Alex convinced me to join them for the weekend in Paris where we saw none of Paris and I saw little of Alex. We talked very little. He was obsessively tired and I felt like a chosen accessory as he held my hand but made no move to involve me.

I became annoyed with Alex as he napped and I sat by the window writing hate letters to him in my journal that he would never read.

At night, I fought with Alex and he made little effort to engage in behavior with me. It enraged me more. I yelled about how he didn't care about me and he would blink for so long I thought he fell asleep. Then, he'd say, "Whatever, Janie. Nothing I say will change your mind."

It felt for the first time Alex was sick of me. I had tired him out and he was done trying to force something I would never allow him to change. I felt tired too. We were both exhausted. I slumped down on the bed, still red inside and out. I loved him so dearly and every move I made felt like the wrong one. I just wanted him around all the time and then the time he was exactly around I ruined it with shouting and dreaming up the fantastical things he did away from me.

I didn't know why I was so overcome with anger and I began to hate myself at night. I cried to Alex and he did his best to hold and comfort me but I think he was exhausted by the whole thing. I thought about going to therapy. Then, I woke in the morning and Alex was hogging the bathroom and I decided that I was right to be overwhelmingly angry. I decided I was right about a lot of things.

In March, I wandered around London for long spaces of time. Sometimes I was looking for something to do, but most of the time I was trying to pass the time. It was a form of meditation. I'd lie under trees in Regent's Park and count the leaves on each branch. My father had gifted me a red iPod Nano for Christmas and it was the first portable listening device I had other than my clunky portable CD player.

On these walks, I felt I was learning more about myself without thinking about myself. I lacked the ability to shut my brain off but I'd get so lost in the scenery and the music that I'd never think of how I was perceived lying in the grass pointing my finger up to the sky.

Walks calmed me during the day but it didn't often last into the evening. I didn't talk to Alex much. He was in America for most of March. I went clubbing with lasses from classes on weekends and smoked with Georgia and Robert on weekdays.

Phone calls with Stacey were about the only thing that grounded me but they were of irregular occurrence. Alex wrote me an email halfway through the month that read:

Did MTV and Webster Hall. You'd love NY. I can picture you forcing me on walks through Central Park so I took one just for you. It would've been more fun with you but that's the case with everything. Didn't get to do much else so we'll have to come back. Whenever you want. See you in April.

I never responded to the email. It pissed me off too much because "whenever you want" wasn't the truth. I would never have him when I wanted and I wanted him all the time. I felt I might as well not have him at all. He signed off like I was some meaningless friend that he'd see the next time he was in town and I decided he might not want me at all either.

When April began I hadn't heard from Alex since the email. I tried to call him once but when that failed I decided it would be better for our relationship if I didn't reach out again. I would be mad either way, if he picked up I would be upset he didn't before and if he didn't I'd be convinced I'd never hear from him again.

"I want to cut my hair," I told Alex. We stood outside Carling Academy. I smoked a cigarette and he watched me. I felt like a board was between us. We had only kissed once when we arrived and I didn't want to kiss him again, I only wanted to cry and I couldn't figure out why.

He had his hands in his pockets and he felt like snow to me. He floated down to me, soft on my skin, but cold to the touch, melting in my hands. He leaned his side against the wall and I suppose he was anxious about performing in twenty minutes but I didn't care much.

"I like your hair," Alex told me. His hair had grown longer and I thought he needed a haircut too because it looked like he had sideburns. He had a funny look to him, one that made him look like Alfalfa with a mad cowlick that wasn't intentional but he made no effort to tame it.

I took a puff and said, "I want to shave it all off."

He laughed. "You want to be Sinéad O'Connor." We avoided any serious topic and stayed on the mundane. I preferred that and we accepted that things would stay this way forever if we left it. Alex and I have always done well with the mundane. We didn't do too well with the serious.

I couldn't focus on him, so I smoked my cigarette instead and waited for him to say something. I was near the end of my smoke when he finally said something. "You know, we've got an EP coming out in about a week."

I refused to allow my face to show anything and stared at the floor because I knew he'd be able to see anything I felt when he looked into my eyes. "No, you didn't tell me."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know. It's just a stupid EP."

Before I'd say something different but everything had changed within months. "I guess." I put out my smoke and we went inside. He was gone the next day and he might as well have never even existed. He was gone into dust, with the wind.

I listened to the EP under the trees and wondered who "Fiona" of "Cigarette Smoke" fame was before I figured it must have been me. Nothing Alex could do was right because he had once again landed in the dilemma of whoever Fiona was—a random girl or me—I would've been offended. I listened to "Despair in the Departure Lounge" and decided not to listen to the rest in public.

The last line "What's happened to me?" rang through my ears the whole way home and I have never forgotten that twisting feeling in my gut that it felt like it would take forever for me to escape. We lost ourselves in our own microcosms; I in London and in my thoughts; He on a tour bus and in his music. It felt like the point of no return that was being unacknowledged.

I feared I was going crazy during my last month of school and I stopped attending class other than to do my exams. I had enough sense for that. I spent my money on cigarettes and forgot to eat most days and still to this day I couldn't tell you the exact reason why. I was likely in some form of depression but it felt too crazy to be depressed. I felt manic most of the time and wondered if my mother felt like this and we all ignored her. I wondered if my mother hated herself like I hated myself and I wondered if my mother ever thought about me as much as I thought about her.

I spent hours smoking outside my dormitory window, which was technically destruction of property to my university and they'd have grounds to kick me out for it but they never caught on, and even if they did I think I was too checked out at that time to care.

I felt like I was taking handfuls of painkillers but I felt too crazy to take anything so I never understood why I felt tired all the time. Robert stopped supplying me with Adderall so I was possibly withdrawing from it but it lasted too long to be that. I didn't stop smoking weed, which likely was not a good thing but it helped me go to bed and I had fun doing weed and I didn't have fun not doing weed.

I would write in my journal while smoking out the window and I followed the belief that being a tortured artist leads to good work. Instead, it increased my chances of lung cancer and made me hate writing. Toward the end of May, I stopped writing and considered dropping out of school but the school year had finished and I knew my father would murder me if I didn't graduate.

Alex arrived in May to play another show. I was supposed to meet him at the venue at 3 and instead arrived at 6 with no warning. I can't remember why I showed up late but I can't lie. There was probably no good reason.

There was nonsensical chatter before the show and Alex put up with my cold behavior until the end of the night when we were alone at my place.

After we had sex, I lay in the crook of his neck and thought about suffocating myself. I pressed my head so far into him that he yelped and asked me, "What are you doing?"

I softened my digging and thought that Alex no longer knew me. I don't know what was happening to me in those months but I was mad and didn't understand why he didn't see what I was doing to myself in those months.

"You never asked me about summer," I mumbled into his neck.

He closed his eyes and I felt like it was 2003 and I was begging him to kiss me again. He was so far removed from me and I feared I'd never have him in my grasp again. I held him tightly as he sighed. "We never talked about it."

"We never talk."

"I'm sorry." But it didn't sound like he was. He just sounded done.

"It's okay." I was more angry with him than I had ever been but I swallowed it like a dry pill.

"Are you going on your family trip?"

I was short with him. "Aruba."

"That'll be nice. For you and Stacey. I can see you by the water, drinking Piña Coladas." It comforted me that Alex pictured pretty things when all I was able to see was my inescapable rage.

I thought about hooking up with a boy on vacation. One I had never met but one that would bring me out of this self-sacrificing funk. I choked my own spit when I thought about Alex. I wondered if he was just my human Band-Aid for the time. The way Joanie had kept me safe through secondary school, Claire had mended me through our first year of college, and Alex licked my wounds and said things were alright and sang me stupid songs and played cards with my sister while fires raged below but like Claire and Joanie and every boy Band-Aid I had before he would heal the previous wound before leaving with a chunk of me for the next one to fix. I cried then and he held me but I wondered how much longer he'd put up with this.

"It'll be fine, Janie." His hand stroked down my spine and he was oblivious to the terrible thoughts I was having, thinking he was consoling me over my family instead of him. "When will you be back?"

I sat up and he delicately wiped my cheek but had missed most of the wetness. I wiped my whole hand under my eye to dry the area. "Some time at the end of June. I can't remember."

"That's perfect." He smiled. "You can come to T in the Park and we're doing Oxegen so we'll be back in Ireland. I know how much you loved Ireland."

His touch felt foul on me. "I'm not your groupie."

My face had turned sour. "What's wrong?" Alex asked.

I tried to turn him away, insisting, "Nothing. I'm making a joke."

But he knew me too well. "No, you're not."

"I know when I'm making a joke and I'm making a joke," I mouthed at him.

But he was done. I had beaten up against him too many times for him to console anymore. "Whatever, Janie."

I scowled. "Well, fuck you." I was a ticking time bomb in those days. The slightest fire and I was going to blow.

Alex was oblivious, confused by the whole thing. I should take partial blame. I never opened up anymore. But he never asked anymore. He couldn't be bothered to give a shit anymore. Too much else on his mind to care about what was going on in mine. I only cared about what was going on in his. It was unhealthy consumption. He snapped, "What's wrong? What did I do to piss you off? You're crying and I'm comforting you and you're making digs at me."

I ripped my touch away from him. "You take everything so personal."

"I take everything so personal!" He sat up, showing frustration in talking with his hands. "Who the fuck are you then?"

I just stared at him.

He took a deep breath, rubbing his hair off his forehead. "I don't know what you want me to do. You seem to have an issue with everything I do."

I didn't accept his indolence. "Maybe everything you do is an issue. You ever thought of that?"

And he ripped off from there. "Do you have some bitch flip on?"

I got out of bed naked and made no mind to get my clothes on. I was too furious for clothes. "Fuck you. Calling me a bitch. You're a fucking joke. You're the biggest fucking asshole. You don't give a shit. You just care about yourself."

"Calm down, Janie—"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down!"

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Alright. Geez!"

I stood with my arms crossed over my boobs but made no move to cover my exposed cunt. I wanted him to see my naked body and for it to not be desirable. I wanted him to call me a cunt. I wanted him to do a lot of things. I wanted him to be here in the morning. Most of all, I wanted to be able to say things to him again.

We stood with our chest heaving and he stayed still in my bed and I stayed still, digging my left foot into my rug. "We'll be back for 2 weeks in July."

I didn't say anything and I wasn't sure if it was good enough but I got back into bed with him. Like everything else, we never talked about it.

I did end up sleeping with someone in Aruba. The worst part was I didn't regret it. I'm pretty sure Alex was doing the same thing on the road and sleeping with someone else based on a presumption that your boyfriend is doing the same is not a good method for a healthy relationship with either party, including yourself. But I didn't mainly do it off the presumption, I did it after those suggested piña coladas and a hot Dutch boy called me cute when I didn't feel it and it felt worth enough to sleep in his bed that night. I hadn't slept in Alex's bed in a long time.

In July, I went to Oxegen because Ireland is so beautiful and Alex is so beautiful and I didn't feel so beautiful so I hoped some of their beautiful would rub off and make me beautiful. I was just thinking about myself too much.

When Alex asked about Aruba I didn't mention the guy just like when I asked him about the tour he never mentioned a girl. If neither of us uttered it, it wouldn't be true.

My hair had grown longer. If I bent my head back I could feel it hit my butt. Alex's hair was longer and it curled out to the sides like Carole Brady. It felt like the coldest day of the year in July, pissing rain, and the sun nowhere in sight. We didn't do any exploring in Ireland like we did the year prior or in the years to come, not even the festival grounds as everything was too muddy, and walking around with Alex at festivals could be a tricky thing.

Before their set, we played Uno, a thing that has always calmed me, unlike regular card games where I feel pressed to bluff and prove how strategic I am. Uno got me laughing and I felt a little whole again even in all the rain, even if I felt my body was being torn limb for limb, I felt the torture was put on pause and the festival named Oxegen felt like the title fit.

After their set, where the rain stopped no one from chanting and moshing and I grew in amazement at the sight of all the people, we played more Uno. Halfway through the game, I tried to peek over at Alex's cards and he let me because he knew I wanted to win. He never placed the Draw 4 card down either. So, I kissed him that night. In a way that wasn't a greeting and wasn't an invitation for sex, just a loving kiss.

Of Alex's two weeks at home, I spent most of the time at his house. We ate dinner with his parents four times during the stay and spent hours on the riverbed at Charlton Dam. Alex would clump grass in his hand and dip his hands in the water to wipe off the dirt. I counted the leaves on the branches. I imagined a life where we had stayed in Yorkshire forever but I knew even in fantasy I wouldn't have been happy.

Alex brought his guitar one day and strummed on the strings until I fell asleep. When I woke he had fallen asleep beside me and I thought of living our lives in that grass forever like some version of Blue Lagoon without the cousin-fucking part. It seemed magical and looking over at him I was struck by his calmness. He had always been subdued but asleep he possessed a stillness that would steady oceans and stop the Earth from spinning on its axis but instead, he chose to sleep.

A little while later he woke up and strummed his guitar with an unknown tune and I wrote random sentences in my notebook. I wrote of the grass on my bare feet and the muttering Alex did under his breath and my mother's Bloody Marys.

"I'm bored," he whined.

"You're frustrated." I could tell he was stuck on something, Alex rarely cited boredom.

He gestured to me, curling his fingers. "Gimme me something."

"Like what?"

"Gimme me one of your lines." He grabbed a hold of my notebook, something I usually shunned, but for some reason, I gave it over to him that day. "Her Bloody Mary must be lacking tabasco while she bites her lemon and thinks of when she used to be fun," he read aloud with a chuckle. "Scathing."

I took the notebook back. "Stop it," I warned him.

"No, I like it. I want more. Write me a song with me, Janie."

I rolled my eyes. "I suck at rhyming."

"Well, then you write and I'll rhyme."

So, I wrote crudely and crafted tales of lost adolescence that did not specifically pertain to my mother. I don't picture my mother and sex in the same sentence.

"Is that a mecca dauber or a betting pencil?" He burst into laughter, falling on his back, and rolling around. "Jesus, Janie, I'm stealing that."

"Yet another man taking credit for a woman's accomplishment."

"I'll give you the residuals."

"You will not be publishing this!" Fat chance. Nonetheless, at the time, he agreed to this.

The line is still the best thing I've ever written.

The band left for Australia and New Zealand at the end of July and Alex asked me if I would like to join but I turned him down for a reason I can't recall now. Many things happened in the summer of 2006 that I have blocked out and for the life of me, I can't remember. I used to hope that I would remember what happened but now I think my brain is doing me a favour.

My maternal grandmother died the first week of August and I personally can't recall the trip to Sarasota, Florida, where she resided in her final years. Stacey has told me my mother cried the whole plane ride over in my arms and yelled at the flight attendant who tried to console her. My father flew in days later for the funeral and flew out the next day.

My mother wanted to remain in Sarasota for longer. She hadn't visited her mother in many years and the last time I saw my grandmother before her death I was 15. She had visited us in Wakefield, which she hated, and said it was shameful not to live in a metropolis like London. She spent her childhood working on farms and I heard loose stories of my grandfather being sent to a gulag. She didn't like the suburbs.

Then, she moved to Florida in her retirement. I had never been to Florida.

I know my mother didn't like her mother very much but the reasons have never been told to me. I assume it's for many of the reasons I didn't get along with my mother but I also know my grandmother and mother experienced more tragedy in their lives than any human should ever endure. They were bonded for life through events that both never told and loved each other dearly but they didn't get along and they didn't like each other very much. I don't think they liked each other at all.

That week, we helped my mother and Aunt Daria clean out my grandmother's apartment. Harper helped the first couple of days before returning to England leaving most of the trip to be Stacy and me with my mother.

On the second Monday in August, my mother suddenly insisted we go to Miami. With little ability to resist our grieving mother, Stacey and I hopped into a car with my mother for 3 hours. I don't think my mother has ever been so calm. She laughed with us and told stories of her childhood and teenage years in Philadelphia and talked about her early life in Soviet Russia, something she never talked about. She asked Stacey about her friends and Stacey confessed to her worries about passing her A levels. My mother was comforting through it all, insisting that we would always be taken care of and Stacey, as the baby of the family, would always be her baby.

My mother then asked me about Alex. "How is he doing?"

"Fine." It was hard for me to figure out what to say. It was an unfamiliar thing to talk about anyone with my mother let alone my boyfriend. "Busy. The band's playing Sydney tomorrow. Or, I guess, today. I think they're 14 hours ahead of us."

My mother placed her palm on her chest and sighed, gushing, "God, I loved living in Sydney. I love all of Australia."

Stacey, unsafely unbuckled as we sped down I-75, leaned over the center console to ask my mother what she and I were both thinking, "When did you live in Australia?"

"Oh, for a short amount of time," she waxed sublimely. "Long before your father, must have been early 1973, I think. I remember coming from New York, which had been frozen over, and landing in sunny Sydney. We spent all day on the beach and drank for days with no care. " Does that mean she has care with her drinks now? "I learned how to surf. I was very adorable and darling. The Sydney Opera House opened while we were down there. Queen Elizabeth came down to open it and I remember watching from the crowd. The next year I was in London but I should have stayed longer. We should've."

"Who's we?" I asked.

She hesitated, I could tell. She gripped tightly onto the steering wheel and then sighed, releasing her hands. "My boyfriend at the time. He was this Australian hottie." I realized then that I had unintentionally written my mother's truth in "Fluorescent Adolescent." More worrisome, I feared I had written my future truth as thoughts of what-ifs regarding Alex were at an all-time high in spite of still being together. Although, it felt like we were barely together other than in writing.

"Mum!" Stacey whined.

My mother ignored her plea. "I had my fun. I was very beloved. When we broke up I couldn't stand the city anymore. Then, I left for London with hopes of marrying into the Royal Family but alas I could've never been the people's princess."

"I didn't know you traveled much before dad."

She laughed. "That's all I did before your dad."

We stayed at a Holiday Inn and my mother never complained with the exception of the smell in the gym. We were quick to get out on the beach and my mother refused to go into the water but she sat in a chair and dipped her feet as she watched Stacey and I stumbled our way through the waves. Later, we all laid up on beach towels and gossiped about American celebrities and I thought of my mother on the beach in Sydney, which made me think of Alex lying on a beach towel in Sydney, which made me laugh.

Over dinner, for the first time in my life, I saw my mother reject a drink. Since I wasn't old enough to drink in the US, she said she wouldn't drink in the US, so instead we all drank pink lemonade.

That night, after Stacey went to bed, I snuck out to smoke a cigarette and call Alex. It would have been sometime around 2 PM there. He didn't pick up the first call so I decided to wait a few minutes before trying again.

My mother came out halfway through the cigarette and though I had never smoked in front of her, I'm sure she knew I did it. She asked for one and we sat in silence while she lit it. Stacey was no longer a buffer for us.

She nodded toward my phone. "Calling Alex?"

"Yeah."

She exhaled the smoke and I felt the Miami humidity suffocating me. "The band must be doing pretty well if they're playing Australia."

"Yeah." 'Doing well' was a laughable statement but I didn't have much of an idea of what to say to my mother to explain how wrong this notion was.

"Are you two doing well?" She asked.

"Yeah." She stared at me and I could tell she wanted to know more and, for some reason, I felt implored to tell her like we were suddenly the Gilmore Girls or something. "As well as two 20-year-olds can do I suppose."

She chuckled and it felt funny for her to laugh at one of my jokes. "He seems fairly well-behaved for a 20-year-old boy."

"Yeah. He's great." She could tell what I was edging on and we sat in silence as she waited for me to spill. "But, he's so far, you know."

She shrugged. "That's what I like about your father. You'll be thankful for that kind of thing one day."

I felt a bitter and salty taste in my mouth. I don't like it when my mother talks this way.

She sighed. "I wish he'd stayed longer but I got my girls and that's good for me. If only Harper was here."

"What about Gary?"

My mother snorted. "Men are no fun in Miami. Gary would be shaming us for sunbathing." I laughed. It was an odd thing. "Are you mad Alex didn't come?"

I laughed at that idea too. "To Grandma's funeral, no. He's got a good excuse for not coming too."

"Does that annoy you?" My mother playing therapist of all people is laughable. I would have laughed at it then if she wasn't asking me what I wanted Alex to ask me.

I didn't dignify the question with an answer.

My mother tapped her cigarette on the bench's arm. "Why didn't you go with him this summer?" I stayed silent. "I would've let you go," she told me.

"I know."

"I'm glad you were in Aruba. I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," I muttered. We listened to the cars drive by and if you focused for long enough you could hear the ocean waves. They coerced me to speak. "He didn't ask me to join. I didn't want to be the whiny girlfriend."

"So you're pouting with me instead?"

I sat up straight. "I'm not pouting."

"All you do is pout!" It was only a matter of time until she outburst. Just like me.

I didn't want to yell back at her. I didn't want to yell. It was 15 after midnight.

She offered her best solution. "Why don't you join him in Sydney?"

I rolled my eyes. "By the time I get to Sydney, he'll be in another town."

"Then, go to that town. It's young love, Jane, you're supposed to want to be near them. Why do you think I moved to Sydney?"

I shook my head.

"You don't want to hang out with Stacey and me that much. I know you can't stand me."

I feel bad that I didn't fight her on that. I have always loved my mother, even if she wasn't always worthy of that love.

"I'll buy you the ticket, darling." Darling was one of her dramatic words, she'd stretch it out syllable by syllable d-ar-lin-ggggg. It always felt elegant coming from her lips. "Miami doesn't suit your pale complexion anyway."

I laughed, she laughed, and then she dropped me off at Miami International Airport and I got on a plane to LA, which then took me to Tokyo.

I arrived in Tokyo a day before the band. I was too tired to do anything so I stayed at a capsule hotel at Haneda Airport after my flight and fell asleep almost instantly. I've never been able to sleep on flights and I think I slept longer in that capsule hotel than any other sleep in my life.

The band was coming from Osaka and I contacted Alex about my arrival but he never responded. Part of me felt like I was intruding but I thought of my mother's words and the delusions I had of Alex showing up in Sarasota prevented me from any great fear.

Alex told me earlier about the hotel they were staying at because he was excited about the advertised toilets that could open upon entry, play music, and give massages. I was creeped out by the whole thing. How can a toilet give you a massage?

I probably should have enjoyed more of Tokyo instead of waiting for the band's arrival in the hotel lobby but I liked my greeting idea too much to ruin it by seeing Sensō-ji, even if that monetarily would've been the better decision. I read The Year of Magical Thinking, my first Didion and a depressing choice for the plane ride over, but it felt right to read after a funeral.

He was dressed in an Adidas muscle shirt and was holding his duffel bag. I felt like a stalker, watching him from a distant couch. I had regret over Alex being uninformed of my arrival because these surprises made me nervous and left me with flushed cheeks and a pounding heart.

I approached the band while they were waiting for the elevator. "Can I have your autograph?" I was really trying to play up the fangirl thing but it came off more embarrassing than I wanted.

I remember Matt was frightened and yelled out "Fuck!" which got him scolded by their manager and dirty looks from hotel patrons. Nick, who had only been in the band for about a month, looked confused. Jamie was the only one who looked normal, scrunching up his nose, and saying something whack. Alex just looked at me as if I were a ghost. I could see the wheels turn in his head as he tried to process what was in front of him.

"What? How? Huh?" He stuttered.

He hugged and kissed me, albeit awkwardly as he continued to look for answers. I gave them a short synopsis as we rode the elevator up. When we reached the fifth floor, we splintered off into our rooms with smart toilets.

Alex was sweet and possessive in his touch on me as he dropped his duffle bag and took me in his arms instead. The whole thing felt too romantic for two people who shunned hopeless ideas of kissing in the rain or cuddling in front of a fireplace but it was a precious and comforting thing as we finished and lay in a pile of consolement as I talked of my grandmother and the puzzle that was (and is) my mother.

He told me my mother was right, Sydney was real beautiful, and that he wished to take me there. I told him I was jealous that he was seeing the world without me. I insisted it to be a joke but he and I both knew that I was green-eyed over this fact but we both didn't acknowledge the fact that we were in Tokyo, seeing none of it because we both enjoyed seeing each other more than any city.

After their performance and a shower to get rid of all that sweat, Alex shook his hair like a wet dog. "Eek!" I squealed. "When are you going to cut your hair? You look like you got a mop attached to your head?"

"You don't like it shaggy?" He asked me as he pet it down.

I pushed a piece of his damp hair behind his ear, admiring his profile as he stared ahead at the bathroom mirror. "You just have to style it correctly."

"Do you want to cut it?" He offered. His eyes were hopeful and his trust in me felt unwavering. It made me smile and bubbles of bliss spread in my gut. There was never any doubt in me caring for him, just like I had no doubt he would always do right by me.

"With what? Do you have scissors?"

"I have my Swiss Army knife." I laughed but he grabbed the tool and flipped the small-scale scissors out of it, placing it in my hand.

"I'm not going to get much done with it," I told him as I stood behind him, combing his hair with my fingers.

"That's fine. Less for you to mess up."

I hit his shoulder and he chuckled with delight. I snipped a few ends off but not enough to make a significant difference. His hair had dried by the time I gave up. I offered the cutter to Alex. He was meticulous, knowing I was particular about these things. I had wanted my hair much shorter for a long time but it had to wait longer because he only snipped the deadends and kissed my temple. The whole thing felt like a holy ritual and I felt slightly creepy for keeping a piece of hair from it but it was more for the preservation of memory than to clone Alex or create a voodoo doll. It joined my trunk of trinkets.

"I have something to give you." Alex searched through his bag, pushing things out of the way.

I spotted the white text popping off the black shirt. "Oh, my god, Alex," I laughed.

"Shit," he cursed, picking up the shirt. He shook his head at his ruined surprise. "I was going to do this whole romantic thing."

His precarious position of kneeling on one knee, looking up at me with the shirt in his hands led to a perplexed me. "By proposing?"

"Oh." He chuckled and stood up straight. Handing me the shirt that read I LOVE YOU WILL U MARRY ME. It had been graffitied on a Park Hill estate in Sheffield in 2001. I have held a deep love for the romanticism spread on the concrete bridge—something about its contrasting nature. "I found it in a shop in Auckland of all places."

I held the shirt up, examined the design, and then hugged the shirt to my chest. "Thank you. I love it. I'll wear it tomorrow."

I was woken up by Alex going to the bathroom early in the morning. He tried to be quiet but stubbed his toe on the way there. I stayed silent and while he was behind the bathroom door, I turned the bedside lamp on a low light.

In my vernal imagination, I pictured myself as being desirable. I wondered if I could be like those figures I saw in movies. Now, it sounds more of a porno than it is, but I hoped to be picturesque as opposed to X-rated. The kind of sophisticated class reserved for paintings of naked French girls where the demurity of women was dashed in pearls and bathed in light, shining effulgently.

When I lied on my side, I felt capable of conveying this. Maybe it was the shade of lampshade light or how dark the rest of the room was, or the boy I was with. I felt like a siren, a vixen, a seductress. Alex came out rustled with sleep but he had awoken when his eyes landed on me.

We were curled—two parentheses. It couldn't have been long after we had finished like after the sexual release we had to have the emotional one. I have chosen to look back on what follows as poetic, especially with a song like 505. I suppose if I had never seen Alex again, I might view it as tragic.

"We're flying to Austria tomorrow," he told me.

His arm curled around my waist and my heartbeat heightened at the fact he would have physical contact with me, intimate contact with me. "Okay."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"School starts soon." I could have managed it if I truly wanted to but the difference was I didn't want to anymore because I had a feeling Alex would never be able to do that for me. Be where I wanted him to be. I couldn't blame him but I couldn't acquit him either.

"You think you'll make it to Reading & Leeds?" I hated how desperately hopeful he sounded. A quiver rang in his voice like we both knew what way the train was heading.

"Probably not. I'd like to be settled."

"We'll be done touring soon."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. Another album."

"Another tour."

"Yeah." He waited for a beat. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I turned into his chest, placed the crown on my head against the divet of his collarbone. "I don't know when I'll see you again and I don't like that."

"I don't either but we'll make it work," he assured. It just felt like a painful lie and I didn't want Alex to lie to me.

I cried, sobbed, wept into his chest and he held me as I shaked in a far more somber way than he had held me shaking earlier. For the first time, I said out loud, "I don't think I can."

I felt him swallow but he refused to say anything. When I looked up at him with blurry vision, his mouth was tightly closed and his eyes drifted far away. He was crying. I had never seen him cry before.

I wanted to care for him the way he cared for me. But I couldn't do that. It was easy then to know to let go. Alex didn't rebuff my admission with insistence that we could in fact make it work. He knew too.

We didn't say anything the rest of the night and when I left in the morning, we kissed and only said goodbye. It felt like too much to say anything else. I fear if he said something, a whisper of 'I love you,' I might have stayed and I knew, for us, I couldn't do that.

I left the shirt he gifted me in 505 and a week later, at the Lowlands Festival, he wore it onstage.

I stayed in a capsule hotel in Shinjuku City, near Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. I felt like an aimless body in the days I stayed there. It was a scene out of Lost in Translation. I visited temples and shrines watching, among the tourists, those who believed. I was desperate for that faith. It had been ripped from me so young I didn't know how to have that unshaken faith in something. Alex had brought parts of it out but I was codependent and untrusting and untrustworthy and young. Not much felt right and now everything else felt wrong.

For those few days, I regretted my decision. I walked around wishing Alex was with me but when I returned to my capsule in the evening, I realized he wouldn't have been there even without our ending.

On my last day, I took a train to Kamakura and stood before Kamakura Daibutsu, a giant Buddha statue. I wasn't suddenly changed, I wasn't radicalized, I didn't feel liberated, I didn't feel suppressed, I wasn't different. But I liked the feeling of being dwarfed by the figure, 13.35 metres, 93 tonnes. I could be crushed by it. I could climb it.

I went inside it where scrawlings of graffiti had been etched. Some nonsense, some prayers. It's been there since 1252. I wonder how far back some of those writings went. I had thought about being somewhere for so long, so long after my time. But I couldn't think of anything to write therefore I would not change a thing there.

I flew home the following day. Only a piece of me is left in Japan.

The leaves were turning burgundy and gold when I saw Alex again. I entered my final year of university with questionable standings but a determination to finish and obtain a job that I truly loved. I had begun renting a flat with Georgia in Tower Hamlets across from the cemetery park. The park had been heavily neglected, bombed during World War II, and had been overgrown with plants. It was open 24 hours so I would walk through it early in the morning when I was restless.

I got a text from him when I was there one morning, stuffed under a tree in the fog. He wrote that the band was in town, recording their next album, and—if I wanted—he would like for me to join them for drinks.

I never doubted saying yes. Alex was my friend first and I wanted him always to be my friend. He gave me the olive branch, I must accept it. I brought Georgia to be safe.

Alex and I hugged when I arrived and I sat on the opposite side of the booth from him. Georgia and I shared chips with Katie Downes, Jamie's new girlfriend. She was (and is) one of the cutest people I have ever known. It was easy to feel jealous of her; she was gorgeous and a glamour model, who usually would've been described as a sex kitten bombshell femme fatale with being a frequent cover girl of lad magazines, but she wore her hair with the front pieces pinned back with butterfly clips and licked ketchup off her fingers. It was impossible not to find her adorable when she cackled at one of my jokes.

I wore an engulfing hoodie and sweatpants with my fingers itching for a cigarette but I knew if I went outside Alex would come out and we'd be alone. We were both pretty quiet the whole night and I found myself longing for him to say something, angry at him for texting me, dangling himself in front of me. But then again I was too scared to speak too. I watched him watch my hand fidget on the table. I thought of that cigarette we could share. I laughed at Matt's joke instead. I'm not sure if it was the right decision.

We would remain in the same cities for most of December. Their next album was recorded in London but we didn't see much of each other through my choice. I worried that my rejection of these hangouts would come off as if I didn't want to be friends. I reassured him once over text, saying, I just need time. Busy. Busy was a half-truth, school was piling up but emotionally I'm not sure I was ready to laugh with Alex. I hung out with Matt some. It was like I never knew Alex. If we had never talked, if I wasn't mistaken to be named Jeanie and wasn't a nicotine addict. It was comforting to be close with Matt again. It was terrifying to feel like I never knew Alex.

Alex and me and London was exactly what I wanted for years. I wondered if he chose to record down there to be with me. If he had daydreams of coming home to a shared flat where, for once, we could be together together. Part of me indulged in these fantasies late at night before falling asleep. Other than that I didn't allow myself to think of what-ifs. I wrote instead of Japan and of Kamakura Daibutsu. My professor, Madeline Critchley, worked for Granta, a literary magazine, and told me to submit it. A few weeks later, it was selected to be featured. It was my first paid published work.

The issue came out months later, in the spring, but it felt wrong for Alex not to read it. I felt like a betrayal that would get back to him. I emailed him the piece and told myself to expect nothing in return from him. He delivered:

The way you write makes me feel as if I'm in front of the colossal Buddha. It always moves me. You have etched your graffiti on me. It'll stay there long after we're gone.

I stayed in London for most of my winter recess but returned home for Christmas. I hadn't told my family that Alex and I weren't together. My parents never asked and I pacified Stacey saying he was away for the holiday season, even if I knew he was back home too. The 30-minute drive between us never felt longer.

Harper and Greg had returned home too with their spouses. On Christmas Eve, Stacey and I made sugar cookies and my mother displayed store-bought gingerbread men. We settled on watching Bridget Jones's Diary while eating these cookies. My mother and sister joined us because of their deep love of Colin Firth and my brother-in-law joined us because of his deep love for my sister. We sat below the Christmas tree which was my mother's pride and joy during Christmas. She'd drink eggnog while she wrapped garland around the tree and herself.

20 minutes into the film my phone buzzed with a text from Alex, who was outside. I knew I couldn't get away for long with this rare occasion of family time. I slipped on my winter boots, not even bothering to tie the shoelaces, and hoped my hoodie would suffice against the freeze outside.

Alex was outside the front door in a bulky winter coat that I imagine his mother had dressed him in. "Hi." He was quiet. Everything outside my house felt quiet with a pure landscape of ice and snow and nobody daring to go outside this late on Christmas Eve.

"Hi." I was quiet too.

"I have this—a little thing," he said, fiddling in his pocket before taking out a Christmas cracker. It was red with little snowflakes on it and my favourite holiday tradition. "I thought we'd pull it together."

"Well, you know me and my competitive nature," I mused.

We sat on my porch bench, cleared of snow. He took one end and I took the other and with one big yank, it popped. I looked down and he had the bigger half, all the favours inside. "I win," he cheered.

I smiled through the awkwardness as he pulled the paper crown out and settled the rest back on the bench. He unraveled the pink paper, looked down at it, and placed it on my head. I giggled. "Are you too scared to wear pink?"

He shrugged. "Suits you more than me." He picked up his half of the cracker and handed it to me. "Show me what else I got."

I poured the remains out, reading the card first. "What do you call forty rabbits hopping backwards?"

"What?"

"A receding hareline."

He snorted at the terrible joke. "Hopefully I'll be fine." He patted down his hair.

"You got it cut," I noted. It was cleaned up and the most tamed I had ever seen his hair. It was combed down in the front, stopping before his eyebrows, cut around his ears, and shiny.

"Yeah," he nodded, "got my local barber and all."

I chuckled and looked at the trinket in my hand: a mini deck of cards. I held it up to him and he asked, "Shall we play gin rummy with them?"

I want January back. I want the car ride. I want the songs. I want those stupid guitar picks I made him for his birthday. I want to be the fun intelligent couple. I want it all back. It's mine. "Why'd you come here?" I asked.

He seemed confronted by this question like he didn't think I would have the nerve to ask it. I fidgeted and opened and closed his mouth several times, thinking of words to say. "I don't know. I missed you."

I only managed to say, "Okay."

"We're back on tour in February. It's more formal this time. A proper tour. We'll have breaks and downtime and—"

"Alex," I stopped him. My head was shaking, unable to process the thought. I was looking down at my hands, cold and chipped, looking for warmth. I thought of December last year when he gave me his gloves and had no qualms about being left with cold hands. Everything in me felt cold now and he made no effort to warm me and I couldn't blame him for it.

I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn't look at him. It was easy to picture his face, mouth downturned and eyes begging for relief. "It's not enough, is it?"

My voicebox died. I couldn't move myself to say anything despite thinking everything.

"Do you want to go for a drive?" He asked me.

My head kept shaking. I didn't want to ruin that for us.

He laughed wetly. I could tell he was crying and the only way to prevent himself from caving in was to chortle. "Last time you rejected a car ride from me we didn't speak for months. I don't want to do that."

With my head still shaking and my eyes on my hands, I finally said, "We'll always be friends."

It was silent for a while and I began to sing "Silent Night" in my head to prevent myself from sobbing. Alex shifted, pulling away from me, he turned his head. I looked up to only see the back of it. He cleared his throat, tapped his foot, and in avoidance of my gaze said, "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

His eyes finally landed on mine. They were red and every bone in me was guilt-ridden. "Don't be. It's my fault for making things harder. I didn't mean to do it but I did and then I ignored it for too long."

"We both did things wrong. Young and stupid."

"I should've stayed in Tokyo."

"You couldn't have—"

"I could've. If I fought for it. It was over by that point anyway, right? Even if I had stayed and we saw that giant Buddha, things were too far gone?"

It hurt but I nodded.

He exhaled.

"I have to go," I announced. I wiped the remaining tears. "We're watching Bridget Jones's Diary."

Alex nodded. We stood up together and I walked him over to his car. He turned back with a smile, despite the blur in his eyes. "Have fun watching Hugh Grant," he teased. "I'll kill him if I have to."

I laughed but it wounded more than it amused. He got into his car and I watched him wrap his hands around the steering wheel. I walked back to my front door and looked back and his car was still there. I forced a smile to qualify me for Miss America and waved. He grinned, the best he could to not look like Cheshire Cat, and waved. Then, I went back inside and he drove away.

a/n: i don't have much to say. i'm a little mixed on this but i'll just leave it at that.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim #beneath the boardwalk

47 notes · View notes

zahri-melitor · 1 year

Text

The Many Post-Crisis Christmases of Tim Drake

Yes, everyone gets a few Holiday issues over the years, but Tim’s got his own special levels of trauma associated with the holiday.

A round up of every time Tim appears in comics about Christmas, sorted by year:

1990: Identity Crisis - Batman #455-457 aka Janet Drake’s funeral. Janet is buried on Christmas Eve. Jack’s still in a coma. Tim is living with Bruce at this point. Tim spends a lot of this storyline having nightmares and worrying by Jason’s memorial case. At the very end, Bruce and Alfred give Tim his personal Robin costume and Tim goes out officially as Robin for the first time.

1996: Holiday Bash I – “Just Another Night” it’s just a small mention here, but given future events it’s worth noting. Tim leaves a Christmas card for Alfred, and Jack takes Tim to the Caribbean for the holidays. Very in line with Tim’s behaviour during this period, where he’s noted for giving Babs thank you notes.

1998: Holiday Bash III – “Alone for the Holidays” aka the single point in canon that supports Neglected Sad Boi Tim Drake. Tim is, as the title implies, alone for the holidays and moping about it. Jack and Dana are trapped in Chicago because the airport is closed due to snow (Why Jack and Dana are in Chicago is left to the reader). Babs and Dick call Tim over to the Clock Tower for a Loners Christmas Party. It will never not be funny to me that Alfred and Harold are at this Loners Party, but Bruce isn’t. Only a TRUE committed loner misses the family loners Christmas party.

1999: Endgame, No Man’s Land (LotDK #126, Batman #574, ‘Tec #741). If you are unfamiliar with this classic story, Joker kidnaps 36 babies on Christmas Eve in No Man’s Land and threatens to blow them all up. Tim gets called away from Christmas dinner with Jack (as a note, Tim’s outside NML at the dinner, then immediately dives inside for this. Never bother trying to make sense of how often Tim got in and out of Gotham during NML) and is helping track down the babies. It’s…traumatic for everyone involved.

2001: Young Justice #40. The Night Before Doomsday. This is the story where Santa dies and Young Justice find themselves having to deliver all the presents on his behalf.

2006: Slayride, ‘Tec #826. Tim is running away from a group of drug dealers and is offered a ride by a passing car. The car is driven by Joker. Tim gets tied up with Christmas lights and eventually distracts him via an argument with Joker about the Marx Brothers.

2008: “It’s a Wonderful Night” and “The Night Before Christmas”, DCU Holiday Special #1 2008. Two reminders that Tim has a hard time at Christmas in one!

“It’s a Wonderful Night” is a tear jerker where Dick goes looking for Tim to deliver a Christmas present. He finds him at a cinema watching a showing of It’s a Wonderful Life. Captain Boomerang Jnr is also there. Tim and Owen bond over their dead dads both liking the movie (which…given their dads killed each other, is a thing) and Dick gives Tim his old Robin costume. You WILL cry.

“The Night Before Christmas” is a Titans story, particularly notable as far as Tim goes in that Tim and Cassie talk about how the holidays remind Tim of the people he’s lost (and look, for perfectly good reasons, given the above).

#z canon read throughs #tim drake #Christmas #DC holiday specials #Tim has a fascinating connection between his Robin costume and the fact it’s a holiday gift #he’s also got a LOT of parental trauma tied up in the time of year #in any case DC should remember Janet exists and exploit HER death for Christmas trauma some year #if you’ve never read Batman 455 there’s a LOT going on for baby 13 year old Tim there

202 notes · View notes

notesmadefromthedark · 1 month

Text

A Slow Motion Love Film [Part One]

Pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Original Character Tags: Childhood best friends turned lovers turned strangers turned lovers, second chance romance, mutual pinning

Summary: A timeline of Isabella’s and Yuki’s friendship is shown. From being friends to being strangers [through the priv account of isabella]

Notes: 1. All photos are from Pinterest! And a Reminder this is a fictional story 2. Isabella's face claim: sevaral idos/models

Nex Chapter: Two

onebellionmangoes posted the following...

Caption: "Yuki and You have been glued to the hip since day 1. Isabella and Yuki are partners in crime. Yuki and Isabella are each other's biggest supporters" - Mother Dearest the Mother of House Wang, 2002 caption. Also tagging: kazutokotaka_0417 and marino_sato

Caption: The summer of 2004 captured in 4 photos - Taken by Nobuaki Tsunoda 📸

Caption: 2006 was a year of many first moments! First day of school. First Piano and Dance practice. And lastly first karting session! - 📸Photos by Father WanWan and Papa Tsunoda ✨

Caption: In the year of 2008. I had my first dance recital and piano recital! While Yuki had his first karting race! Snow Owl got 1st place! So, proud of snow owl! Plus my first singing practice! - Photos by the best parentals in the world!

Caption: 2012 was School in the morning and then Performing Art School/Racing School in the afternoon. And lastly at the end of the day is a meal with Yuki...imissyousomuchmysnowowl

Caption: 2015 is a busy year for me and snow owl. Auditions and Podiums on the weekends. Shared meals at the end of every day. Thank You toshiki_oyu for the podium photo! And Thank You Snow Owl for the photo during audition! Ramen on a sunday afternoon after lots of activities ✨

Caption: Moving to South Korea while carrying part of his heart in the year of our lord 2016. My favorite love letter confession from snow owl is "Honestly, you are my favorite part of summer, and I hope we can always spend our summers together, even when we are thousands of miles apart."

Caption (Year 2016): I did a few love confession doodles while on the plane to South Korea! Wrote few love confession lines

"And all my walls stood tall, painted blue And I'll take 'em down, take 'em down And open up the door for you And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies"

Caption (Year 2016): Yuki got podiums! We celebrated in his fave restaurant though he wished you were here with us. Call us when you settle down at the dorms! Yuki says congrats on being an idol trainee! - Papa

#yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au

23 notes · View notes

greatqueenanna · 11 months

Text

Previous Versions of Frozen (Rewrite)

The development of Frozen is famously known to be messy and obscure. Messy, because of the many last-minute changes made even months before the film released. Obscure, because the many versions there were before the final film are kept secret, with only slight tidbits being released and shown, leaving the previous stories being up to one's own imagination.

In my previous attempt to uncover the previous versions of Frozen, there was a lot of information left out or unknown to me at the time, and even some things I got wrong. Thus, I wanted to do a more in depth look at the possible previous Frozen stories, and update any misinformation.

Feel free to comment sources if there is something I missed.

Part 1 - Before Frozen

As everyone knows, Frozen was first considered to be an adaptation of Hans Christian Anderson’s The Snow Queen. However, over the development of the film, the creative team had decided that it would no longer be an adaptation, as at this point, they were just inspired by the fairy-tale and some of its themes – a Snow Queen, an Evil Mirror, an Act of True Love, and a Frozen Heart. Everything else was left alone, with only fan interpretations of what else could’ve been used, but never officially stated.

Before Frozen was even considered, there were couple attempts at adapting The Snow Queen. A common mistake made by many fans is incorrectly assigning concept art, songs, and story ideas from earlier adaptions of The Snow Queen. However, these versions are not actually Frozen, but completely different stories and attempts to adapt the fairy-tale.

The Biography Attempt -- 1937 – 1942

The first attempt at adapting the Snow Queen was to include the story in a bio-pic of Hans Christian Anderson. The Snow Queen was one of the stories that were going to be told in this bio-pic, alongside his other famous works. The rocky development for this bio-pic began in 1937, and ended in 1942 when the USA entered World War II, as Disney shifted into time on War Propaganda, officially halting the production of this project.

The first completed concept of the Snow Queen segment specifically was coined by Mary Goodrich in 1938, a researcher, who wanted to explore the theme of regeneration through faith. It was very faithful to the original tale, and was actually fully complete. However, Norwegian-born researcher Karl Berggrav dismissed the story. He said that while it was a technically good film, with the story being well-written and had no loose ends, it was boring and uninspired.

"This story rounds off everything nicely and ties up loose ends, but it is very uninteresting and just fades out into nothing, or worse than nothing, banality. It is hard to make good animation out of it.” - Karl Berggrav, The Art of Frozen, pg. 10

Walt Disney himself attempted to adapt the story in 1940, but as a live action and animated film. Hans Christian Anderson everyday life would be filmed in live action, while his stories were to be animated. This was going to be a co-production with Samuel Goldwyn and his new studio Samuel Goldwyn Productions, where they would film the live-action sequences.

The Snow Queen -- 1990 – 2006

There were multiple attempts at adapting The Snow Queen during the renaissance era and after. Harvey Fierstein took a chance to pitch an idea for The Snow Queen, but it was shot down. Even Glen Keane attempted to try his hand at an adaption, but just couldn’t find a way to turn the Snow Queen into the sort of fully realized character.

Then, a new team took on the adaptation in 2000. The main idea that the creative team wanted to have was to omit the Trolls and the mirror, trying to explore different ways for Kai to be abducted by the Snow Queen. There was one version of Kai wanting to impress Erica (Gerda's first name change) by joining a whaling ship. The Snow Queen was often shown in artwork riding an orca all over the sea.

There were other versions that followed this initial premise with more comical side characters, ranging from penguins to walruses to, of course, Snowmen. The strangest outline for this version was how Greta (another name change for Gerda) was a devious gold digger, leading Kai to marry the Snow Queen instead.

The Snow Queen was described as a 'Taming of the Shrew" type character, who had a frozen heart that needed to be melted away by the warm and loving Kai.

I love The Taming of the Shrew idea. Take Martha Stewart. She’s tough, smart — a worthy adversary. If she were a doormat of a woman, no one would go after her. -Michael Eisner, Disney War

The artwork for this version was considered to be beautiful and inspiring, but the narrative was simply not compelling enough. Thus, the story was ultimately scrapped and shelved.

The below concepts are often mistaken for early ideas for Frozen, often named early designs for Anna, Kristoff, and Elsa - however, they are actually from the 2000-2003 version of The Snow Queen, while others are from even earlier versions, and are featuring completely different characters.

The project was later brought back in 2006, but not for animation - but instead as a stage musical for Tokyo DisneySea at thier Broadway Music Theater. It was going to be directed by Amon Miyamoto, written by John Weidman and Glenn Slater and Alan Menken writing the music. However, it was also scrapped.

The reason I bring this version up, is because a song penned by Slater and Menken is often pushed as early love song that Kristoff was supposed to sing. However, it was not a Kristoff song at all. Love Can't be Denied was a song that was written for this stage musical, with no real details about who it was written for or its purpose in the plot.

youtube

There are many reasons claimed why, but it is often contributed to Disney wanting the Snow Queen Adaptation to be a film, not a stage show. Menken was even reported to try his hand at making it an animated musical, but it never went through.

For years, (Disney had been) working on “The Snow Queen,” first as a stage piece, and then as an animated film, but that got shelved. Clearly, animated films are big commitments and it takes a lot for Disney to greenlight one. - Alan Meken, Jim Hill Media

Part 2 - Previous Versions of Frozen

After John Lasseter was given the reigns of Disney Animation Studios after the Disney merger with Pixar, he wanted to try and adapt this story again. Lasseter convinced his old friend Chris Buck to come back to the studio, and try his hands at another Snow Queen Musical film. Thus, the development of Frozen officially began.

"I pitched several ideas to John, and ‘The Snow Queen’ was one that he'd been interested in for a while. I pitched a musical version of it that he seemed excited by. So we started developing that project. This was back in 2008, around September.” - Chris Buck, The Art of Frozen, pg. 11

Starting 2008, Frozen went through a few versions before Jennifer Lee, Robert Lopez, and Kristen Anderson-Lopez entered the production in 2012. While Jennifer Lee was aware of the project while she was working on Wreck-it-Ralph, as the company typically has round-tables for their animated featured where all of their writers can give notes, she was not officially brought on as writer and then later as director, until 2012.

Both of these versions featured the introduction of Anna and Kristoff as replacements for Gerda and Kai, as adults instead of children. However, there were a few different ideas for The Snow Queen character that would prove to be the biggest obstacle.

Anna and the Snow Queen 2008-2010

The first version of Frozen was called Anna and the Snow Queen. There seems to have been a couple attempts at perfecting this story, none of which really made it to the final cut, due to the difficulty of making the Snow Queen character compelling. This version was meant to have hand-drawn animation at first.

Anna and the Snow Queen is very obscure, and not much exists for its early story ideas other than a few ideas sources from interviews and concept art by Claire Keane.

The Snow Queen Character (she was given the name Elsa at this stage) was based off of Bette Midler (some sources say that she was also meant to be her voice actress) She would take on a very Diva persona, and was of course a villain. Anna at this time was depicted as 'up-tight', and often was shown as some sort of secretary or assistant to the Snow Queen.

Kristen Bell was cast as Anna before anyone else had joined the team, after she had initially auditioned for the role of Rapunzel for Tangled. Josh Gad was cast a little after, however the Olaf he was voicing was a very different character, much like Anna.

"I was originally involved in the project when it was a 2D effort and it was called Anna and the Snow Queen, and it was completely different. Completely different. Megan Mullally was playing Elsa and it wasn’t really about sisterhood at all. I think it had more to do with the source material of Hans Christian Andersen’s story. When I did that version, Olaf was a different character entirely." - Josh Gad, MSN Entertainment

What the story for this version is often conflicting. Anna goes to the Snow Queen to have her heart frozen after she is dumped at the alter, releasing Elsa from an ice prison. The below concept art by Claire Keane shows Anna as a bride looking for the Snow Queen, supporting this interpretation.

However, other artwork by Keane suggests that Anna is possibly working for the Snow Queen as an assistant of some kind, as shown in the concepts below, and is also supported by the 'up-tight' secretary Anna concepts. It is possible, however, that after going to the Snow Queen to freeze her heart, she ends up working for her. You can also see the Bette Midler inspirations in some of Elsa's character designs.

After this period, Anna and The Snow Queen was actually shelved for around one year in 2010, before being brought back in 2011 and renamed to Frozen. It was also around this time that the idea for it to be hand drawn was scrapped, with the film shifting to 3D animation.

It was seemingly brought back with a story about a prophecy that says that Arendelle would be destroyed by a "Ruler with a Frozen Heart." The characters in the story would assume that this was Elsa, the self-proclaimed Snow Queen (Anna and Elsa were not royalty at this time, nor were they sisters) only for it to be revealed that it was Hans (possibly named Admiral Westergaard).

Frozen was to open with a prophecy that "a ruler with a frozen heart will bring destruction to the kingdom of Arendelle." We're then introduced to Anna, our pure-hearted heroine, and Elsa, an unrelated evil Snow Queen. We learn Elsa is a scorned woman; she was stood up at the altar on her wedding day and froze her own heart so she would never love again. Both Elsa and the audience assume she's the villain from the prophecy. Fast-forward to the final act: Elsa creates an army of snow monsters to attack our heroes while Kristoff has "a Han Solo moment" and comes to help Anna. To halt Elsa's attacking army, the two-faced Prince Hans (Admiral Westergaard) triggers a massive avalanche—not caring that the avalanche also puts Anna, Elsa, and all of Arendelle in jeopardy. Anna realizes Elsa is their only hope, so she convinces her to use her powers to save the kingdom. The twist is that the prophecy from the beginning is actually not about Elsa, but about Hans—he's the one with a metaphorical frozen heart because he's an unfeeling sociopath. Elsa's heart is then unfrozen allowing her to love again. - Peter Del Vecho, Entertainment Weekly

This is also supported with what Santino Fontana says in his interview with Paul Wontorek. He claims that he was hired and paid for his lines in 2011, way before Jennifer Lee was officially involved with the project in 2012, and just after Frozen was brought back from its year hold.

This puts into perspective any claims about Jennifer Lee basing Hans' character after her ex-husband, or that Hans was originally meant to be a good guy until they needed a new villain to replace Elsa. Hans was always meant to be the real villain of Frozen and was seemingly created as soon as Anna and the Snow Queen became Frozen.

The Story of Sisters -- 2011-2012

During one of the round-table sessions, in which Jennifer Lee was involved in but was still not working on Frozen, someone within the session suggested that Anna and Elsa should be sisters. This was the first major breakthrough that helped shape the story.

This famous version of Elsa (onionElsa!) is meant to be based off of Amy Winehouse. It is unclear when Elsa's backstory transitioned from being that of a woman who was dumped at the altar, and being the more tragic villain that was forced to hide her magic.

Regardless, it was explained that this Elsa had ran away from her kingdom, and later on kidnapped Anna away from her wedding with Admiral Westergaard, trying to freeze her heart so that Anna would understand how she felt. It ended in the same way, however, with Hans being revealed as the true villain and Elsa getting a redemption.

It was also around this time that Anna's character was also getting a much needed re-working. Anna's 'up-tight' personality was removed with the help of Kristen Bell, who always had issues with Anna’s characterization. She pushed for Anna to be more quirky and awkward, with a strong desire for love and companionship. Idina Menzel was also brought on at this time, where the two actresses prepared a song (Wind Beneath my Wings) to see how their voices would match up.

This deleted scene below showcases this version of Elsa, voiced by Idina Menzel.

youtube

"We did a version where the Snow Queen was the villain, but we wanted to end with them reunited, and it was very hard to redeem her at the end. We decided on an adventure about two people who initially misunderstand each other; it allows for the bonding at the end.” - Peter Del Vecho, The Art of Frozen pg. 12

Jennifer Lee started on the project after all of this was already established, and tried to work out quite a few things with the story. Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez also came onto the project, and tried to write a few songs for this version - although, they didn't really like the story all too much.

One of the songs we know from this version was We Know Better. Interestingly, this is actually not the full song. It is supposed to end with Elsa's turn to becoming ‘evil’, and Anna becoming her 'up-tight' persona. This was omitted with a lot of earlier scenes of Elsa's evil nature (with the exception of the above clip) because the creative team wanted to try and distance Elsa away from this persona.

youtube

Another deleted song was called Cool With Me. @stitchkingdom saw a concert where Kristen and Bobby Lopez performed some deleted songs, some of which were never performed anywhere. Cool with Me was a song that came before Life's Too Short, and has details about Elsa kidnapping Anna and wanting her to feel her own pain.

The next breakthrough for the story was when the Lopezes wrote Let it Go. John Lasseter had often made notes about delving deeper with Elsa's character asking why she is a villain. Jennifer Lee also pushed for more depth when she was writing Elsa. However, Let it Go was the trigger that helped se things in motion for a new version of Frozen.

“The minute we heard the song for the first time, I knew that I had to rewrite the whole movie.” - Jennifer Lee

Now, Elsa was being completely re-written as a sympathetic character - no more villainous tendencies, no more intentionally cruel stunts. Elsa was made into a tragic character who was forced to hide who she was, and only wanted to protect Anna and her kingdom from her powers.

Olaf was also re-written at around this time, going from an obnoxious side-kick of Elsa's to a more innocent companion that would represent the love between the sisters.

The newest version of the story was a mash-up of the original prophesy version talked about above, but with new elements. This included a story about Anna feeling less than Elsa, and feeling like nothing more than a spare. Elsa was of course changed to her new sympathetic character, and runs away from Arendelle from fear rather than being angry at anyone.

The Duke of Weselton was also theoretically introduced at this stage, but not as a red herring to Hans, but instead as a care taker to the sisters after their parents passed away. Hans was also supposed to gift Anna a special snow globe that had some kind of thematic importance.

The following songs and scenes are some of the ideas from this version of Frozen.

youtube

At this point, the creative team was pretty confident that they had the story planned it out and it was ready to go. However, the team had decided that they were still having issues with the plot.

The Final Months - 2013

From February to June of 2013, there were extensive rewrites done to the film before having a test screening with both a family audience and adult audience.

One of the elements that were changed was the prophecy. After so many years, this story element was finally dropped. Then, Hans' sociopathy was explored more extensively by Jennifer Lee, and a character twist was pushed by John Lasseter to make his villainy more iconic.

Anna's feelings about being a spare was removed, as the creative team wanted to focus more on Anna wanting to find love rather than trying to prove herself (she was sounding a bit too much like Hans). The Duke was changed to being his current self.

Kristoff was actually changed as well, making him a bit more kind. However, when his character was changed is not clear, but we do know that Johnathan Groff pushed for him to be a bit more kind as well.

Some of the songs were also removed and replaced with the current versions we know and love today.

Conclusion

Frozen’s 10th Anniversary is coming up (here or passed depending on when this is read) making it a perfect time to talk about the journey Frozen went on throughout the years. It’s amazing to look back at all the attempts and stories, and see where Frozen ended up. It’s because of all these attempts, successes, failures, and hard-working people that we were able to get the Frozen that we have today.

Happy Frozen 10!

Sources:

The Art of Frozen by Charles Solomon

Disney War by James B. Stewart

Disney's 'Frozen,' Formerly 'The Snow Queen,' Will Be CG Rather Than Hand-Drawn by Russ Fischer for Slash Film

Countdown to Disney's Frozen by Jill Hill for Jill Hill Media

Lost Media Wiki - Frozen

Frozen Original Ending Revealed - James Hibberd, Entertainment Weekly

Show People With Paul Wontorek Interview: Santino Fontana on "Act One," "Frozen" & More

Interview: Frozen's Josh Gad MSN Entertainment

Scriptnotes, Ep 128: Frozen with Jennifer Lee

Exploring the Songs of "Frozen" with Kristen Anderson-Lopez '94

Kristen Bell Explains How She Became Anna in 'Frozen' | The Watch | The Ringer

#Frozen #Elsa #Anna #Hans #Prince Hans #Queen Elsa #Princess Anna #hans westergaard #Kristoff #kristoff bjorgman #Olaf #Sven #greatqueenanna/analysis #frozen 10th anniversary #frozen10 #Youtube

141 notes · View notes

ilythecolorpink · 1 year

Text

I Wanna Be Saved (Satoru Gojo x female reader)

It was the year 2006, You go to an abandoned building to have a smoke only to discover that you can see a cursed spirit. During your discovery, you end up meeting two strangers.

It was a chilly evening, with the clouds gloom dominating the sky. The autumn breeze caresses your skin. You were strolling through the forest since you frequently smoked there or sat there and thought while it was deserted. You removed your lighter and box of Seven Stars Cigarettes from your denim pocket. You mutter an irritating "Shit" as you put the cigarette to your lips, you glance up, you can feel raindrops starting to start falling on you.

As it gets heavier, you start moving more quickly. Thank goodness you located an abandoned structure. Previously clean walls were now coated in grime, had graffiti, and had leaves creeping on them. You inhale after lighting your cigarette, taking your index finger's second and third knuckles, and exhaling the smoke. You hear a noise coming from the room's far corner at the end. When you approach the strange sound and notice an odd shadow-like figure, you raise an eyebrow and exclaim, "What the fuck?" as it approaches you. You get a severe sense of annoyance and fear. You sigh impatiently as you move away from the cursed spirit, "Fuck, I can't even have one last cigarette before I leave?"

Its eyes are far apart, and its smile is overly big, so as it gets closer to you, more of it becomes visible. As you rush away, you experience a wave of panic washing over you. You go past the trees, the rain just gets heavier, your breathing becomes more strained, and your heart rate increases. The cursed spirit behind you simply becomes stronger. As the rain didn't really assist, you slipped out from under your feet. You turn around so that your back is on the ground, you feel a grab at your leg. With your free leg, you attempted to kick the curse away, but it was ineffective. You are utterly helpless. "Please don't make me die here out of all places," you plead as it continues to hold onto both of your legs. You continue trying to comfort yourself on your appending end “Come on man I haven’t even had my first drink yet.”

You hear footsteps approaching your way just as you think all hope is lost. One person can be heard saying, "Satoru, you go take care of the girl and I will take care of the curse." When you look up, you see two tall men with school uniforms, one of whom has violet-purple eyes and black hair that is tied up with a strand of hair covering his left eye. The other is wearing sunglasses and snow-white hair, and both are staring down at you. Gojo kicks the cursed spirit away as Geto approaches it, freeing your leg from its hold. He then crouches down, placing one arm under your knees and the other supporting my back, saying, "Looks like you got pretty roughed up, don't worry I'm here to save you." You grab onto his chest to keep him close.

After some time, Gojo takes you to the school building, which is located in the mountains at a great distance. There were more trees than you could count. Passing several temples and shrines. He eventually sits you down in one of the classrooms. Your fear has subsided as you settle down, and a stream of questions has emerged as a result of intensified curiosity.. "What the hell was that thing back there?" You ask. Gojo says, "You can actually see that?" with a look of curiosity. "Yeah, what was I not supposed to?" you then respond. When he sees to make sure you weren’t hurt at all, he kneels down and explains, "You see, sweetheart, those things you saw back there are called curses." When you feel him lightly grab your leg, you exclaim, "Curse, huh? Although I've heard of them, I've honestly never imagined seeing one."

"So do you do this kind of thing for a living or what?" you ask after that. He then stands up and removes his sunglasses. "Sure, you could say that, by the way, my name is Satoru Gojo, trust me the less you know about these things the better." Then, as you take in and admire at how stunning he looks, you gaze up into his heavenly radiant blue eyes. As you put your hand on your cheek, you notice a slight flush starting to appear there. You utter the words "Wow you're so beautiful" while being completely captivated. After realizing what you just said, you feel embarrassed and exclaim, "Oh god, I'm so sorry."

He then smiles and says, "You don't have to apologize at all darling, you know I would be lying if I didn't say that you look beautiful; as well especially under this moonlight." You only get redder as you “Oh thank you” You start to play with your hair. You stand up a little while later, self-assured, and thank him for saving you. You return the favor by kissing him on the cheek. Now Gojo is the one blushing who asks, "Did you just kiss me on the cheek? Anytime you need me, I'll make sure to come to your rescue." "How about I give you my phone number?" you chuckle as you phrase this in a more sensual manner.

After that, he adds, "Hell yeah, I'll make sure to call you anytime, love." When the other man from earlier enters, you hear footsteps. "I apologize for interrupting, but we must take you home, ma'am." Then you say, "Please call me Y/N," while giving a small smile. "I'm Suguru Geto, and it's lovely to meet you", he continues, nodding. As you exit the building, you hear Geto ask, "What's got you all smiling?" as you pass by them. Putting his arm around Geto, Gojo declares, "I just got a hot girl's number." Geto then chuckles and shakes his head.

A/N: I hope you all are doing good. Thank you so much for all the love and support I have gotten, It really does mean the world. Also, my next fanfic will be with Priest Nanami featuring Itadori so stay tuned for that. Anyways, I hope you all have a good night/day and I love you so much.

135 notes · View notes

roe-and-memory · 11 months

Text

been thinking about lightning and mack a lot lately.. may have a fic prepared for you soon

#cars 2006 #lightning mcqueen #i cannot stop thinking about them #theyre literally brothers guys #imagine 15 year old lmq experiencing snow for the first time #absolutely enamoured

11 notes · View notes

memphisnovels · 1 year

Text

Evermore

Chapter 1. Dream a little dream of me

Masterlist

Chapter 2

I’m back my loves!

This is a new series that I have been working on for quite a while and I really hope you all enjoy it <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

just to preface: The first three chapters are backstory for the OFC and her path to meeting the Avengers and Pietro comes into things in chapter 4. I will note this again at the beginning of chapter 3, it is an optional chapter which furthers her backstory but if you are too excited for Pietro then just reading chapter’s 1 + 2 and skipping to 4 would still be okay <3

Trust me Pietro is worth the wait!

summary: Nadia was raised in the Red Room, raised to be a weapon; a killer. From five years old this is all she knew, until a near-death experience and a chance meeting turned her world upside down.

series warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries, PTSD, angst, trauma, mutual pining, slowish burn, eventual smut, mentions of medical procedures, guns and torture.

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries

Russia, 2006.

Whether it was February or sometime in June I was no longer sure.

The air was glacial around me, and I was sure I was dying.

There was a dampness that enveloped me, something in the stale air that agitated my senses. I laid back against the rough gravel, sweat streaming down my neck even with the snow that dappled my cheeks. It must be February still, this much snow could only mean winter. I rasped a breath out. My eyes were heavily lidded, suit becoming damp with the blood that spilled from my side. I saw a familiar face then, her name was Annika, or at least I thought it was. Dark hair slicked back as she prowled around searching for me. When our eyes met, I hoped death would come with haste, surely it would be merciful. This instead of returning to his grasp. She came to kneel beside me, gravel crunching under her weight. She said my name, but it was distant, her hand came to grip mine. Perhaps there was something in my gaze, something she recognized. That is the only conclusion I could come to as she let her hand drift from mine offering a single nod, but not the slightest of expressions as she spoke.

“Отдыхай сейчас, сестра.”

Rest now, sister.

I would never forget her mercy. My eyes drifted shut as everything became distant, the dreary cold, the aching muscles, the blood that drained from me. Then, there was nothing. Finally.

The smooth, delicate flesh which had seen no hard labor smoothed my hair down, twirling a golden curl between slender fingers. A quiet hum filled my ears, followed by smooth words

Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you’. Birds singing in the sycamore tree.

“Dream a little dream of me.” I murmured; the low hum of an engine filled my ears as I jolted awake. I was confused by the strange vision I had seen whilst unconscious, an American woman who had found her way into my mind’s eye many times before. When I’d told Natasha about her years ago, she’d said perhaps the woman was my guardian angel. The thought made my heart clench, I wondered where Natasha was, if she was still breathing or if she was merely another piece of the past now.

When my consciousness returned fully, I managed to prop myself up enough to take in my surroundings, I immediately regretted it. Surrounding me, atop my legs, by my head were bodies. I suspected we were being taken to a site for disposal, that had been my path, a nameless corpse among the others taken to be dumped in a wide grave. However, by some wicked twist of fate some stubborn part of me seemed unwilling to die. I had planned my escape before, many times over the past 10 years. Yet, now when it was practically in my palms, it was hollow and did not feel as if it were mine. I tore a small shred of fabric from the shirt of once of the corpses, apologizing to the lifeless eyes that watched me as I used it as a makeshift bandage over the wound at the side of my stomach. It hurt, yet I’d sustained far worse. I reminded myself of this as I took the knife from my boot and cut into my wrist, blood trickling down my forearm as I slipped the tip of the blade beneath the skin to locate the chip that would tell him exactly where I was. An ache set into the base of my skull as a ringing noise filled my ears, I persevered, nonetheless. Finally, metal hit metal and I slipped the tracker from my skin. I put the microchip into the pocket of one of the corpses. Even if it was followed it would only lead to a hole filled with dead. I pressed my bleeding wrist to my chest as I dragged myself to the edge of the trailer, tucking my head and rolling. The gravel scraped my flesh, digging into me and engraving new cuts into my body. I gasped for air as I landed on my hurt side, shutting my eyes tightly to block out the still present ringing. Whether there was a part of me that truly wished to live or it was merely stubborn fury that pushed me to get up I was unsure.

The pain seared through me as I watched the car leave the driveway from behind some stray shrubbery. Forcing myself back to my feet I hobbled toward the now empty house. A brief search of the area surrounding the backdoor returned no sign of a spare key and I could feel the blood still oozing from the wound on my side as well as the steady stream on my wrist. I leaned against the wall, steadying myself momentarily as my head began to spin. With a swift movement I shattered the small glass panel of the door, reaching within to flick the lock. Given the distance of this particular house from the nearest neighbor, I was not concerned that someone may be alarmed by the sound, hence the appeal of this property. When inside I made quick work of securing the items I required; pants and a shirt, to allow me to remove my torn, bloodied suit, only keeping my boots and push dagger. I also grabbed some towels. When I’d found each item I moved back to the kitchen, searching for some kind of first aid kit, though there was no sign of one in the vicinity. After rifling through a few more cupboards, I gave up on the errand, not wanting to linger in case the homeowner returned. Makeshift antiseptic would have to suffice, I grabbed the bottle of vodka I’d clocked in a cabinet before carefully moving to sit on the tiled floor. I peeled the black suit from my body, cursing as it clung to my gash. When I was down to only my undergarments, I pressed one of the folded towels between my lips, gritting my teeth around it as I held the other towel just below my wound.

I was unable to swallow the groans of agony that ripped through me as I poured the vodka onto my flesh, blood-stained alcohol pooling onto the towel in my hand. The ringing noise returned, echoing through my ears as the pain intensified, fraying my nerves. When the overwhelming burning subsided slightly, I began to attach a piece of cloth over the marred flesh; it would have to suffice until I could find a needle and sutures. As fast as I was capable in my state, I slipped into the clean clothes disregarding the mess that I’d created in favor of getting out of this house as soon as possible. I only collected the items that were coated in my blood before filling a canteen that I’d found with water from the tap. Before leaving, I grabbed a coat and gloves from the rack next to the door.

The flakes of snow kissed my cheeks as I trudged through the streets, tightening the coat around my body, chin tucked into the soft inside layer. I wasn’t sure where I was going or what I planned to do when I got there but remaining on my feet seemed a solid starting point. I managed to find a pharmacy along my way, the faint green cross bringing some relief as I all but stumbled through the door. Old Russian opera hummed over the radio, surrounding me as I scanned the shelves. A young boy sat at the front of the store, completely engrossed in the faded, well-loved comic book he was reading; I wasn’t sure he’d even noticed me enter, regardless of the bell that had rung above my head the moment the door had opened. I glanced at him to ensure he was still ignoring me before shoving a stitching kit and some bandages into my pockets. This was all I needed, though my feet seemed cemented to the floor where I stood. I was unsure whether I was swaying or if it was just my imagination. The room suddenly seemed to be spinning around me. My breath felt ragged, and I could feel sweat on the back of my neck.

“Могу я вам помочь, мисс?”

Can I help you, miss?

The boys’ words barely met my ears. I closed my eyes tightly, releasing a shaky breath and attempting to steady myself against the shelf.

“Нет, спасибо.” No, thank you. I grabbed a pack of throat soothing candies from the shelf, holding it toward him. “У тебя не тот вкус, который мне нравится.” You don’t have the flavour I like. He nodded in response, watching me with what I believed was concern for my welfare glimmering in his gaze. I offered him a smile that was likely not very convincing before turning and making my way from the store. I found a block of public bathrooms to lock myself in as I peeled the layers from my body and began the laborious task of stitching my wound closed. My hands were nowhere near as steady as they normally were, and it was no small task to focus my eyes. I’d stitched up my wounds and the wounds of others countless times, yet now, when time was not on my side, nothing seemed to be going my way. The sting of the needle seemed nothing compared to the collective pains from the day.

I recalled stealing the loaf of bread, so fresh it burnt me beneath my coat where I had stowed it away as I stumbled toward the tracks. The sting of the piping hot dough against my chest was easy to focus on, something to anchor me to reality. I remember that and I remember falling unceremoniously into the empty carriage at the back of the cargo train, the door was so heavy against my frail consciousness I was barely able to pull it closed. Even after summoning the last shred of strength that lingered within my bones, a slither remained present in the door.

I hadn’t the faintest idea how many hours were passing, by what I believed was the third sunset I’d witnessed through the crack in the door I was too exhausted to eat the bread that remained half wrapped beside me. The cool metal of the canteen in my hand the only thing anchoring me to reality. The days had begun to pass by with the same routine, it would begin with a searing agony that would eventually become a dull ache, the violent shaking would follow soon after, though at times they arrived in unison. Sweat would bead on my flesh, making me clammy and overheated as the glacial breeze continued to infiltrate the stale air of the carriage.

When the train slowed to a stop just before the fourth sunset, I decided that if I didn’t pull myself from the carriage now, I’d almost certainly die here.

There were bricks beneath my feet comprising the path surrounded by trees, I studied my surroundings through blurry eyes. Berlin. I had been here recently, but the months still seemed to have passed me by. People were celebrating, they were dancing in the street in colorful costumes and singing jovial songs; I remember now, it was the beginning of Fasching, the beginning of Lent, it was February. The streets still bustled, though no one danced, German flowed around me.

I approached a man who sat reading a newspaper on a park bench, asking him, in perfect German, what day it was. He told me it was the 1st of March and then he asked if I was well. I nodded slowly and turned from him, offering nothing further in the way of conversation. Continuing down the street I attempted to make a plan, I had no contacts here, not ones that existed outside of the red rooms grasp. A woman pulled me from my thoughts, she was not speaking to me, she was on the phone, and she spoke English. I glanced toward her noting the wallet that she slipped into her coat pocket, a small map in one hand. She was British. I diverted my path subtly, adjusting my gloves to ensure that no blood stains were visible. For a moment I just listened, having to close my eyes to focus in this altered state, in my head I mimicked her voice, repeating the sentence she’d just spoken over and over.

“Yes, I’ve just arrived in Berlin, it’s absolutely freezing here.”

Again and again, I said it as I approached her, she was ending her phone call when I finally stood before her. She gave me a friendly smile when our eyes met. “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, I just heard you speaking English, and well, I don’t speak a word of German, I was wondering if you could help me.” I spoke mimicking her accent.

“Oh of course, it is a tricky language! I’m Anna, what’s your name?”

I had found German to be relatively easy to learn, but I disregarded this. “It certainly is, I’m Natalie, I was hoping you could give me some directions to the nearest pharmacy?” She agreed happily, unfolding her map and beginning to show me what roads to follow to find my destination. I hummed along as she rambled, ignoring her words as I swiftly slipped my hand into her pocket, snatching her wallet and slipping it into my own coat before she’d finished talking. “Thank you so much, really, you’re a saint.” I spoke, forcing a smile just as warm as hers to spread across my face. I turned and began to make my way down the street in the direction she’d told me.

“Oh, and Natalie.” I rolled my eyes at her voice, forcing a smile back onto my face as I turned back to face her.”

“Yes, Anna?”

She stepped toward me, her expression completely calm and collected as she adjusted her jacket. “Might I have my wallet back?”

The smile never fell from my face as I regarded her, I was trained to face any circumstances that may arise on a mission, there was no room for error in the red room I had been forged into something of a perfectionist. “I’m not sure what you mean, your wallet?”

“Yes, love, my wallet which you just nicked.” I told her I hadn’t seen her wallet and I even acted mildly offended that she was assert such a thing. “I must admit you are quite an adept pickpocket, if it were just that perhaps I’d assume you were a mere street hustler and leave it at that after regaining my wallet. Though, I’ve been told I’m something of a connoisseur at separating your run of the mill con artist from someone like you.”

The accent I’d employed remained strong as I queried. “Someone like me?” Glancing at her with furrowed eyebrows as if to query her sanity. “Are you alright, Anna, what a thing to accuse someone of. I’ve not even seen your wallet.”

“See it’s that right there that gives you away, sweetheart.” I raised an eyebrow at her gleeful expression. “You don’t even falter when you lie, no shift in your demeanor, no evident tell of any kind. Really that is talent, kiddo. However, you did make one mistake.” I could feel sweat beading on my head and my surroundings were becoming more fuzzy than clear. Forcing myself to remain upright, I only prayed I wasn’t becoming paler before her eyes. I asked her once more what on earth she was speaking about. “You said that you spoke no German and yet you understood the map perfectly. The map which has not one word of English on it.”

Had I shown that I’d understood the map? I couldn’t remember, everything was becoming groggy and distant, I had never once been made before, but now, I could barely hear the words Anna spoke to me. Too weak to run, and too ill to continue deceiving her I simply threw her wallet onto the ground in front of her. “Fuck you.” I spoke letting the accent slip from my words, settling back to my regular speaking voice.

“You’re Russian? Are you working for the KGB? Did someone send you here?”

Suddenly I couldn’t feel my legs and my words became slurred. “Fuck off.” I attempted to leave but I stumbled, catching myself against a wall, the cold bricks pressing into gaunt cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

I pulled the push dagger from my pocket, aiming it toward Anna but evidently the threat was empty as I was no longer able to hold myself up, slumping down to the ground, limbs going limp at my side. My eyelids were inexplicably heavy then, each time I blinked I was plunged into the darkness longer. I could see the woman’s mouth moving as she approached me cautiously though none of her words stuck as the darkness came once more.

Thank you so much for reading - Pietro is worth the wait <3

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff x ofc #pietro maximoff smut #pietro smut #marvel #marvel avengers #avengers smut #avengers fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson smut #atj smut #pietro maximoff x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader

143 notes · View notes