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I want to crawl in a hole and die
#I wish I had somewhere I could be where theres no pressure of being perfect and being the me someone will hate the least#I wish I had a mom to talk to and to hold me when I cry#and a dad who watches tv and talks about games with me#I just want to not feel like a burden for once but I guess the only way to achieve that is death so welp#I’m just here#being bad at everything#as I do#20 minutes left of being 15 and nothing will change#nothing can change#I’m stuck#like#you know fly paper#that shit#I’m stuck like a moth on fly paper#cant struggle out I can only get more stuck#then I die#delete soon#happy birthday me you about fucking disgrace#hope when you go out to celebrate you get hit by a car going 80 in a 50 zone#tw vent
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Just a culmination of thoughts I had and moments I liked during 7x06:
This ended up being MUCH longer than an expected, I just kept adding things to it! So you totally don’t need read the whole thing just skim through if you want…
1. Maddie about a minute away from a panic attack, but still looking stunning✨
2. Hen looks like she’s gonna go all angry mom mode on Buck and Eddie, who are looking ROUGH… she gives them a look that should put the fear of god into anyone!
3. You know, I just wanted them to have one major milestone that didn’t involve one or both of them being in danger, but NOOOO! We don’t even know where Chimney is and Buck and Eddie are a complete hit mess! Evan “✨it’s complicated✨” Buckley.
4. Oh my god I love Buck and Eddie and their shared brain cell so much! Their bickering is hilarious! Buck slapping Eddie’s hand away from the sliders and later Eddie saying, “reach for them and you’ll be pulling back a bloody stump!” 🤣🤣🤣
5. RAVI WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DO YOU WANT TO DIE!? 🤣
6. “Wholesome 80s themed karaoke” and Eddie proposing that he and Buck go as Crockett and Tubbs.
7. I kinda figured Chimney wouldn’t show seeing as HE DIDN’T WANT A PARTY. Then everyone leaves and it’s JUST Buck and Eddie, because of course!
8. And back to Buck and Tommy again… Tommy has to go and put out a LITERAL fire and we get a second Buck/Tommy hug in the span of like 3 minutes! I’m getting FED they are so cute and soft, and Tommy really doesn’t want to leave but has no choice… the soft hug and “be safe” I’m sorry my heart is melting! 🫠❤️
9. Buck and Eddie are just having A TIME with all these random people, and of course being the touch starved boys they are, you get a little (a lot) of alcohol in em they obviously need to have physical contact at all times! 🤣
10. Drunk Buck being like “we don’t have a key🥺” and Drunk Eddie “you don’t need a key,” (hand on shoulder, thumb on pulse point) “we’re fire fighters👨🚒😈” continues to kick in the door!
11. CHAOS ENTERS THE BUILDING, I couldn’t stop laughing! Honestly I didn’t realize Buck and Eddie could party this hard! Buck wakes up on the floor, Eddie’s in the bath tub (a shirt? What’s that? Never heard of it) and Chimney is FUCKING NO WHERE TO BE FOUND! 😬
12. Cut to Maddie desperately trying to get ahold of Chimney and track him down, but he’s somewhere in his car dazed, confused and clearly UNWELL! And his car gets freaking stolen!
13. The dinner celebrating Kevin’s life 🥲
14. Gosh dang it, everyone in the room together worried about Chimney, god my heart! I hope they find him soon!
15. Maddie showing up at the dispatch center in her wedding dress! The woman means business! SHE GONNA FIND HER MAN!
16. Doug, DOUG!? What are you doing torturing Chimney in his subconscious!? No one wants you here!
17. Seeing Maddie’s reaction to Chimney in this state is heartbreaking! She just wants to make sure he’s ok, but he’s clearly not!😢
18. Bruh, we keep getting jump scared by Doug, I’m so DONE with that guy!
19. Time jump to two weeks earlier… “telling Buck ‘no’ is like telling a dog not to jump your leg” just more proof that Buck is a man with the soul of a golden retriever puppy…🤣
20. Bobby saying “well evidently our two love birds over there were enjoying some sexy time, when they heard some weeping” had me wheezing! 😂
21. When they figured out what was wrong with Chimney I got so scared, even though I knew he’d likely be fine. Never know what might happen though…
22. When Chimney’s paramedic skills kicked back in it gave me hope, then he saw Doug again… and still didn’t remember that he’s actually a paramedic.
23. He knows he needs to be somewhere and he hears Buck calling for him, Chimney knows they’re looking for him, then freaking Doug makes him almost give up fighting! 🥲
24. NO DOUG🙄 MADDIE DIDN’T FUCKING LIKE BEING ABUSED!
25. KEVIN🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Kevin telling Chimney he NEEDS to get up and get help!
26. Maddie in the hospital with Chimney, thinking he doesn’t remember her then him saying “I’m sorry I missed our wedding” GOD MY HEART!
27. Jee running in yelling “daddy!” 🥹
28. “We always get back to each other somehow” please! My heart can’t handle this! They’re meant to be!!🥹😭
29. “I know Kevin is smiling right now” “yeah he is” I can’t breathe! I’m shocked I didn’t cry!
30. Just the whole ceremony, Bobby officiating! Everyone so happy for them together after this day they’ve had! I’m just gonna melt into a puddle of pure emotion! 🥹🥺
31. I love them. I love them! I LOVE THEM!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
32. Buck looking down at his phone to see that Tommy told him he’s there 🤭🤭
33. I made a whole post about this kiss, ahhhhhh!! (My reaction remains the same every time I watch it, I lose control of my limbs, my voice gets all high and squeaky, and I lose the ability to form actual words) The damn 10 second scene still has me SHOOK! 😆🫨
34. Buck pulling Tommy into the room, Tommy apologizing for missing the ceremony and Chimney looking up at him and over to Buck and saying “Thanks tommy, looks like you were… busy” (I didn’t even think about how long Buck was gone before, but since they had time to cut and serve cake to everyone Buck had to be just in another world with Tommy for at least 20 minutes…)
35. Hen’s face when she realizes that Buck and Tommy totally were just making out! And Eddie being the supportive king of a bff that the is!
36. The Buckley parents faces… I’ll be ready to throw hands in a second if they say something homophobic later on!
37. Hen saying “well it’s about damn time” to Karen!! Ahhhhhh! Girlllll!!! Are telling me you could see Buck’s raging bisexuality THE WHOLE TIME!? 😆😆😆😆 She so CLOCKED HIM!
38. Chimney feels right at home anywhere if he and Maddie are together!! ❤️����🥹
39. Not them mentioning the cruise ship!! Too soon, too soon! 🫠 But I also laughed!😂
40. “So, were Buck and Tommy a thing before my amnesia?” “Um yeah, actually they were.” (Still trying to figure out how much time there was between the coffee date and the wedding… I have no clue. [Please can someone tell me!?])
41. “Why do they call me Chimney?” And cut to black…. Really, REALLY!? That was cruel, so rude. They’re never gonna tell us why they call him Chimney are they?
And that’s the end!
#911 abc#9-1-1#evan buckley#eddie diaz#tommy kinard#maddie buckley#chimney han#hen wilson#madney wedding#911 7x06#911 spoilers#just my thoughts
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Quiz Meme thing for people over 50 - via @gilajames
1. Name one body part that doesn't hurt: my elbow (who gets that reference? but really mine doesn't hurt. at least not today.)
2. Were you able to answer #1 because you have taken ibuprofen recently? Nope, I haven't been able to take ibuprofen at all for a few years now because I'm prone to ulcers. (I also haven't taken any tylenol/paracetamol, because it straight up doesn't work for me for pain relief. It lowers fevers, but that's it.)
3. Name one activity you are greatly relieved you don't do anymore because fuck that shit: change diapers and otherwise deal with any (literal) shit that isn't my own
4. Have you gotten at least eight hours of sleep in the past five days. (Not each night, just total.) Oh yeah, I average about 6.5 hours a night and on the weekends sometimes it stretches to seven!
5. Name one song that is NOT forty years old, what the fuck. The 1980s were, like, twenty years ago. Fuck you, the 80s were like, five years ago at most lol. That said: The Hamilton soundtrack, and also "Panic" by David Ford. Those are only like 10-15 years old.
6. Do you remember the last time you got carded (not counting 'we have to card everyone' places.) If we're not counting "card everyone" places, then I have never been carded. When I bought booze legally for the first time on my 21st birthday, they did not card me. Apparently I radiate an aura of "yeah she's old enough."
7. Name one musician that you keep hearing their name but have no clue what their music is. My Chemical Romance, I guess (I have a general idea what the music is but I don't know that I've actually heard it. I could be wrong about that I suppose but I definitely didn't know it.) I'm not really a music person, this is a lot of music questions for me.
8. Have the celebrities you loved as a kid started dying of old age? A few but not too many yet.
9. Have the celebrities you loved as a teenager started dying of old age? Same.
10. When did you start listening to the Oldies station? Another music question? I mean, I listened to the oldies station when I was in frickin college because I don't care about music and that was the station my boyfriend at the time liked. I really only listen to music in the car, and after I dumped that guy I switched to listening almost exclusively to tapes, CDs, and music downloaded to an iPod/phone.
11. Have you told a younger co-worker any form of the phrase "wait until you're my age/older/hit your 40s, then you'll..." Not really, though I've done the "wait until you have kids who are [age] thing to younger co-workers, and commiserated with co-workers of similar age about all the shit that hit us after 40.
12. Do you seek out older co-workers so you can quote something at them that they will get? Nope, because I am a work-from-home introvert. :D
13. Would you rather just stay home? At least 85% of the time, YES.
14. Have you reached the point that for birthdays, other gift-getting events, you say "I just don't need more stuff"? No, because I love getting gifts. When I was young, my mom told me she didn't care what was under the Christmas tree for her, she just loved opening presents. Seriously, one year when I was like 14 I got her a 6-pack of socks and wrapped each pair individually and she LOVED it. I thought she was crazy then, but I get it now. Anyway the only people who get me actual gifts these days are the Things and I'm not going to discourage them because they're so fun.
15. Do you often find yourself saying "I remember when" and you describe something so completely foreign to Life Today that you wonder if you made it up? All the FUCKIGN TIME
16. Did you look at this list at the beginning and hope it was a short quiz because you don't have time for those 50 item lists? Lol no because this counts as social interaction for me these days.
My fellow "old" tumblrs, join in the fun! (Or don't, I'm not the boss of you.)
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This really made me think. I hope you are enlightened by this as I was at this point of a hard day.
Awsome Conversation between God And a Man. Read it and don’t forget to share it with your friends.
Man: God, can I ask You a question?
😝😳
God: Sure
😌
Man: Promise You won’t get mad …
😒
God: I promise
😌
Man: Why did You let so much stuff happen to me today?
😒
God: What do u mean?
😒
Man: Well, I woke up late
😳
God: Yes
😒
Man: My car took forever to start
😳
God: Okay
😒
Man: at lunch they made my sandwich wrong & I had to wait
😳
God: Huummm
😒
Man: On the way home, my phone went DEAD, just as I picked up a call
😁
God: All right
😒
Man: And on top of it all off, when I got home ~I just want to soak my feet in my new foot massager & relax. BUT it wouldn’t work!!! Nothing went right today! Why did You do that?
😰
God: Let me see, the death angel was at your bed this morning & I had to send one of My Angels to battle him for your life. I let you sleep through that
😊
Man (humbled): OH
😔
GOD: I didn’t let your car start because there was a drunk driver on your route that would have hit you if you were on the road.
😊
Man: (ashamed)
😒
God: The first person who made your sandwich today was sick & I didn’t want you to catch what they have, I knew you couldn’t afford to miss work.
😊
Man (embarrassed): Okay
😒
God: Your phone went dead bcuz the person that was calling was going to give false witness about what you said on that call, I didn’t even let you talk to them so you would be covered.
😊
Man (softly): I see God
😒
God: Oh and that foot massager, it had a shortage that was going to throw out all of the power in your house tonight. I didn’t think you wanted to be in the dark.
😀
Man: I’m Sorry God
👏
God: Don’t be sorry, just learn to Trust Me…. in All things , the Good & the bad.
♨💥
Man: I will trust You.
👏
God: And don’t doubt that My plan for your day is Always Better than your plan.
♨💥
Man: I won’t God. And let me just tell you God, Thank You for Everything today.
♨💥
God: You’re welcome child. It was just another day being your God and I Love looking after My Children…
♨💥
REPOST if you believe in GOD
♨💥
Why Do we feel sleepy in Prayer,
♨
But stay awake through a 3 hour movie?
☀♨
Why are we so bored when we look at the HOLY BOOK,
♨
But find it easy to read other books?
☀♨
Why is it so easy to ignore a msg about God,
♨
Yet we forward the nasty ones?
☀
Why are Prayers getting smaller,
♨
But bars and clubs are expanding?
♨
Why is it so easy to worship a celebrity,
☀♨
But very difficult to engage with God?
💥♨
Think about it, are you going to forward this?
♨💥
Are you going to ignore it, cause you think you will get laughed at?
♨💥
Forward this to all your friends.
♨💥
80% of you won't forward this.
☀💥
When one door closes , God opens two : If God has opened doors for you,
☀💥
send this message to everyone
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Paul Williams on His Regrets and Career By Donald Liebenson
“Bugsy Malone is like nothing else,” Roger Ebert wrote in his 1976 three-and-a-half-star review. “It's an original, a charming one.”
Alan Parker’s directorial debut, a one-of-a-kind gangster musical acted out by children (including Scott Baio in the title role and a then-13-year-old Jodie Foster as a sassy nightclub chanteuse), was an early career triumph for Paul Williams. Williams is everything that he wanted to be: an actor, an Oscar-winning songwriter of era-defining hits and composer of iconic movie scores. He’s something else, too: sober. Earlier this month he celebrated just over 30 years of sobriety. “When I got sober, the career I thought I had been gone for 10 years,” he says. “I feel like Lazarus; I’m 80-years-old, and I feel like a tired 34.”
But he’s ebullient talking about BUGSY MALONE, a cult favorite in the United States, but in its native England, it is something of a viewing rite of passage for children, thanks in part to a 1980s stage adaptation by Micky Dolenz. The film itself won four BAFTAs, including Best Screenplay and Best Newcomer and Best Supporting Actress for Foster. Williams was nominated for two Golden Globes, including Original Score and Original Song.
He has completed a new musical, Fortunate Sons, about how the Vietnam War draft lottery affects two households. His last major acting role was as ex-lawyer and informant JT on two seasons of the Amazon series, Goliath. “I’ve always said I’m a pretty good songwriter for an out-of-work actor,” he jokes. “Acting is where I got my start.”
Where in the process did you get involved with Bugsy Malone?
Paul Williams: BUGSY MALONE began as a bedtime story Alan made up for his kids. Every night he put his kids to bed, they said, ‘Tell us more about Bugsy tomorrow night, dad.’ So maybe the answer to that question is that the headwaters of BUGSY MALONE is Alan’s love for his children and his great love for the traditional American gangster film. He found a place where those two things would meet in a way that was really unique.
How did Bugsy Malone come to you?
PW: Alan Parker liked my songs, but I don’t know where he got the idea to approach me. It was around the time of A STAR IS BORN (for which he co-wrote the Oscar-winning song “Evergreen” with Barbra Streisand). He sent me a batch of beautiful color drawings of the cars, the splurge guns and the sets. Then he sent me the script, and I loved it. I was playing Vegas a lot and when I agreed to do it, he came over to talk to me. I was opening for Liza Minnelli or Olivia Newton John, I don’t remember who. Alan and I sat down at a deli, drank coffee and I was just singing bits and pieces of songs that I thought would be good ideas. I thought we needed to open with a song about Bugsy. It poured out of me. When the marriage is right, that seems to happen with me.
What was your own connection to American gangster movies? Were you a fan?
PW: Oh, my god, I was a huge Humphrey Bogart fan. One of the great times that I ever had was doing THE CHEAP DETECTIVE, because I was playing Elisha Cook’s role from THE MALTESE FALCON. As a little boy, I knew his name before I knew Santa Claus. I remember when I first came back to Hollywood to try and make it as an actor, one of the first things that happened was I walked into a drug store just as (character actor) Royal Dano was walking out. You’ve seen him in a hundred movies. I said, ‘Hiya, Mr. Dano,’ and he snapped his head around and said, ‘Hello, young man.’ I told that story on Carson, and I got a letter from Royal Dano. He said, ‘Although I don’t remember meeting you, it seems to me you were thinner then.’ I love that.
How did you approach writing the songs, because they are songs being lip-synced by children, but they are not children’s songs.
PW: The script is the Bible. The two basic tasks a songwriter have are to move the story ahead and to display the inner life of the characters. Alan Parker was similar to Jim Henson in that the rule of writing was to not write down to kids, but to write accurately for character and story. The characters Alan wrote were so strong; they are archetypes of the great Warner Bros. characters. Bugsy was John Garfield meets Humphrey Bogart.
Where did the idea come from to have the child actors lip-sync to adult voices?
PW: They got kids that could act, they got kids that could dance, but the songs had intricate rhythms and to find kids who could sing them was a challenge. I thought that if the automobiles are these weird little hybrids that make the sound of an engine but are being pedaled, and the guns shoot cream, then why couldn’t the kids sing with adult voices? It would have the feel of an animated film. It solved the whole problem. The one regret I will have my entire life is that I put another (singing) voice in Jodie Foster’s mouth; one of the great actors in American film history. That’s a terrible legacy (laughs). I did that with (the character) Beef in PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE. I used a guy named Ray Kennedy who had a great beefy voice, but when I heard Gerritt Graham sing later, I thought maybe I should have given him a shot.
This was before your collaboration with Jim Henson and the Muppets. Was Bugsy Malone a project you personally wanted to take on as something your own children could see?
PW: Bugsy Malone is the one motion picture I’ve written songs for that I’ve seen more than anything that I ever worked on, and there’s a simple reason for it. When my wife and I broke up, I would spend the weekend with my kids and I would plunk them down in front of the TV with pizza and, god bless them, they must have seen BUGSY MALONE for years. Eventually, I learned how to talk to my kids and be a sober real dad, but my kids just love BUGSY.
The closing number, “You Give a Little Love,” is Bugsy Malone’s legacy song, much like “The Rainbow Connection” is for The Muppet Movie. It was even used in a Coca-Cola Super Bowl commercial.
PW: That song is pretty much my philosophy. I absolutely believe it. My entire life has proven to me that there is something about the elegance of kindness that has always had a solid return. The core philosophy of BUGSY MALONE is, ‘We could have been anything that we wanted to be/and it’s not too late to change.’
In America, Bugsy Malone received good reviews and is a cult favorite. But it’s huge in England. Why do you think it was so embraced there?
PW: We took it to the stage in the 1980s. Every kid in England, Wales and Ireland, but especially in Great Britain, grew up seeing BUGSY MALONE. It’s like GREASE in this country. Edgar Wright did BUGSY as a kid, which led me to a role in BABY DRIVER.
Where do you rank Bugsy Malone in the Paul Williams canon?
PW: It is probably the best opportunity I ever had in this life to preach a little kindness. It’s probably the best opportunity I’ve ever been given to express the possibilities and probabilities that we could be anything we want to be. I was the runt of the litter from the Midwest; this little dude who didn’t fit into any world. I just absolutely loved music and movies and without thinking twice, I thought, ‘I’m going to do that.’ I hope BUGSY MALONE inspires that for anyone looking up at the screen and is attracted to the possibilities of telling the truth about themselves in a way that helps someone else.
Bugsy Malone is but one chapter in an incredible life and career. Have you given any thought to writing your autobiography?
PW: You know what? In recovery we call it an inventory (laughs). I think I’m at a place in my life where I feel like a beginner, like I’m just getting started. I know how idiotic that sounds at 80, but I want three digits on my driver’s license, and I think the one thing that gives me a shot at that is that I love being busy and doing the things that matter most to me, and that’s trying to tell the truth in a way that helps someone else.
#Bugsy malone#gangster pictures#warner bros#Jodie foster#child stars#child actor#old Hollywood#classic#TCM#Turner Classic Movies#Paul Williams#Donald Liebenson
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Kontestants choice of date with you 💖
includes kabal, fujin, cassie, shang tsung, raiden, skarlet, kano, and hanzo
Kabal: One word.. glamping. He very well could be an outdoorsy kind of guy, sure, but the black dragon has spoiled his ass. He's just enough of a diva to ditch the tent and sleep in the car with the seats folded to the front instead. He may or may not have checked the temperature and picked one of the coldest nights just for an excuse to cuddle up with you. It's honestly pretty nice though. He picks the fluffiest comforter, has a laptop and portable chargers. You can even turn on the car radio while you stay up playing some silly get to know me game like Never Have I Ever.
Fujin: Museum or art gallery. Naturally he knows a lot of Earthrealm's history both with his age and his status as it's protector. Still, all the different rich cultures are gorgeous and something to be celebrated he thinks. He especially enjoys the more ambiguous pieces that are left up to interpretation. It's something that challenges him, to try and think from a mortal perspective. He would love to hold your hand and casually walk around, studying different artifacts or paintings. You can see his eyes glistening with adoration for all Earthrealmers and you can tell he loves you and your home so deeply.
Cassie: An arcade. Even better if it's in a mall so you two can hit up the food court afterwards. Who doesn't love the patterned 80's-esq carpets and the smell of sweat coming from the laser tag room? You don't have to do physical games like that, but she'd prefer to stay away from the boring game machines like plinko. Cassie will probably drag you to play DDR or one of those multiplayer shooting games that's in those little curtained boxes. Hopefully the two of you can get enough tickets for a prize, if not she's happy to have spent the day with you anyways! Bonus points if there's a photobooth you two can go in and take cheesey polaroids with. Double bonus if you won something from a claw machine that can participate in the photos too.
Shang Tsung: There's a lot to explore on his island before you even step foot outside of it. One thing you get to see, that most others will never, is a hidden library. Mainly consisting of philosophy, hedonism, nihilism, and controversial books. If you're familiar with your literature he quizzes you, eager to teach you that of which you didn't already know. Regardless, Shang Tsung will sit with you and cockily go over the knowledge he has of these and their significance to the mortal race his own interpretation. He's really smart actually, more than he's given credit for.
Raiden: An opera. Yeah, he's an old man so I'm not gonna say you two are gonna be out roller skating or anything like that. Raiden's almost always stoic, so it takes you by surprise to see him grinning down at the stage with such delight. For a moment in time he feels like he's in a different world, a world where the realms are harmonious. With you by his side everything feels just right. When the lights dim between scenes and nobody can see, he'll steal a quick kiss from you. It's probably just on the cheek as he isn't too crazy about PDA, but still. It's a lot from him and he hopes it can convey how he feels.
Skarlet: An old cemetery. A bit on the nose, but it's the only place the scent of blood isn't insanely overwhelming to her. However, this also leaves you in a very vulnerable position as the only living person around. You have to trust her completely to be with her here and she's completely aware of this. Skarlet isn't the type to play games or bullshit with someone she genuinely likes, and it's possible for her to even bring up that trust you have for her in conversation.
Kano: The fight club. I know it's not exactly a date as much as it is his work place, but he doesn't feel the need to have to go out for a night to be special. In fact, most times you have fancy dates it's because you planned the outing. Kano wants to sit and watch the fighting cage with you on his lap. He's cocky too, yelling at the fighters from above where you sit. He's got a hand supporting your back and the other inappropriately placed on your thigh. It makes him feel like the motherfucking KING when you guys are like this together. You're practically unstoppable here and he couldn't love it more.
Hanzo Hasashi: Cooking dinner together at home. Making recipes that have existed in your families for generations ends up being a really intimate experience. Neither of you would share these with any old person and it's a sign of trust for you both. You're off to the side cooking your dish and he keeps peeking at it to try and guess what it could be. If you want to work together then he'll help you cook his dish by standing behind you and letting you rest your hands on his. Technically he's doing all the work but it's still enjoyable for you two regardless. What you end up making is up to you! Will there be a dessert as well?
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Boom
Jason ‘J.D.’ Dean x Reader
Words: 1819
Part One
Summary: Preparing to run away together, J.D. and the reader hit a problem in their plan. J.D.’s father. Things take a turn and J.D. has to decide if this new feeling of love is real enough to die for.
Notes: I know I took forever to write this and I’m sorry! I’m ashamed of how much I love J.D. but here we are. Same as the first part. This has been sooooo much fun to write and I hope that you guys like it! (Again, if you’re at all uncomfortable just skip this)
Warnings: Murder (duh), sex (not smut, but definitly more than I’ve ever done before), language, same as the first part
More 80s/90s: HERE
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The backseat of your mother’s car was not ideal for this kind of celebration, but you couldn’t wait to get back to the house, so you found a spot in the forest to pull over. J.D.’s face was buried in your neck and your fingers were tangled up in his black hair. He was in a particularly good mood.
The cops fell for it. Both murders were covered up perfectly. Tommy’s was ruled a suicide and he would forever be remembered as the school pervert. Nobody was surprised by your mother’s death and it was quickly written off as an overdose. The only thing left was to pack. The two of you were getting out of this fucking little town and you were never looking back.
Pressed together like this, you knew that you didn’t give a shit what happened if it wasn’t with him. Looking into your eyes, J.D. reached a similar conclusion. You were what he wanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something.
“Where do you think we’ll go?” You asked, situating yourself on top of his chest. He shrugged.
“Anywhere.”
You settled into a comfortable silence, his fingers lightly drumming on the small of your back. This was actually happening. For the first time in your life you didn’t feel trapped. You could do whatever the hell you wanted. You had gotten away with two murders for fuck’s sake. You were invincible.
-
J.D. felt different. Hell, he was feeling, which was a different sensation on its own. He fell back onto his bed with a grin on his face. It wasn’t that someone had broken through the ice. It was more like he had found someone drowning underneath the frost just like him.
“Hey dad, how was your day?” His dad asked sarcastically, popping his head in the doorway. J.D. didn’t even look up and his dad didn’t stay long enough for a response. It was more of a routine than actual affection. In just a few hours, it wouldn’t matter anyway. His dad could blow himself up for all he cared. He would be long gone.
He eventually figured that he needed to start packing. He shoved his motorcycle keys in his pockets with a sigh. He’d have to sell it. The two of you would be taking your mom’s old car so you’d have somewhere to sleep, so his motorcycle would have to go.
“The things I do for love.” He snarked to himself. When he opened his drawers, he found them all empty. “What the hell?” All of them were empty, his clothes were nowhere to be found. He stepped into the hall and saw the pair of suitcases at the bottom of the stairs.
“I packed everything up for you while you were gone.” His dad walked by them, looking up the stairs at him. J.D. shrugged.
“Convenient, but why?”
“We’re finally moving out of this shit hole town. On to sunny Florida!” He had that smile on his face that he usually used to appeal to businessmen and other corrupt assholes. J.D. just laughed.
“Well isn’t that just perfect timing?” He bounded down the steps with his chaotic grin plastered on his face. “Looks like we are finally parting ways, son.” His dad faltered.
“What?”
“Goodbye, adios, adieu.” J.D. grabbed his suitcase and started back up towards his room. “Soon, I will be out of your hair forever. You can go on with your life of bombs and demolition and I will go on with my own kind of destruction.” He pat his dad on the head, ruffling his hair like a normal father would his normal son.
“Jason, you can’t just leave.” Bud’s smile strained. “We’re a team, you and I.” J.D. stopped suddenly and laughed.
“Team? Sorry dad, but the only thing we even know about each other is our love of all things explosive.”
“This is about that girl, isn’t it? The slutty one you’ve been fucking around with since we moved here.” He shook his head, chuckling deeply. “You’ll get bored with her soon enough, so don’t bother.” J.D. just smirked smugly.
“Thanks for the advice there, pops, but I think I can handle my slutty girlfriend all on my own.” He started to close his bedroom door, but his dad put his foot in the way.
“You don’t get to leave like she did, boy.”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m not making that mistake again, J.D.” A creepy, maniacal smile spread across Bud’s face. Fuck, I thought I was the only psycho in the family. “Just stay here and I’ll do what I do best.” He moved his foot and slammed the door shut. J.D. heard something scratching and scraping on the other side and quickly tried to get out.
“You locked me in here with a chair? Seriously!” He screamed through the wood. No response. “Motherfucker.” He paced back and forth plotting a very bloody demise for dear old dad when he heard the squealing of tires outside his window. “Where the hell is he going?”
Wherever it was, J.D. wasn’t going to be kept out of it. He tried kicking down the door, but that didn’t work. The only way out of the room was the window, but there was nothing to climb down and he was on the second floor. J.D. unlocked the latch and lifted up the window pane, looking out to see just how far of a drop it was. He’d live.
Without hesitation, he jumped.
“Fuck!” He shouted, pain shooting up his leg from his ankle. He fell to the ground, but was able to get himself on his feet. His foot hurt like a bitch, but he could bare it enough to walk to his motorcycle.
He was at your house in less than ten minutes, breaking every traffic rule in the book. He didn’t care, he just wanted to get out. Limping his way up the sidewalk, he found that your front door was already open.
“Time to go, Y/N. Grab your stuff and let’s get out of here!” He shouted, but the house was empty. Just the strong stench of death and booze that your mother had left behind. Mother. He remembered his dad’s comment and felt a chill. Do what he does best. “Oh shit.” He took off again, heading for his father’s next destruction sight before you became part of it.
-
You spat, hitting him in the eye as he finished cuffing you to the old hospital bed frame. Bud grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head into one of the metal bars. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of crying. Instead you just glared at him through squinted eyes.
“He’s going to come get me.” You smirked, trying to get the blurriness in your version to clear. “J.D. is going to tear you apart you sick bastard.”
“You can call me all the names in the book, kid, but my son is coming with me.” He tightened the cuff so that it dug sharply into the skin of your wrist.
“When did you become the ‘world’s best dad’?” You scoffed.
“Do you know how much more lenient a judge can be when I’ve got a poor, disturbed teenage boy who depends on me for a living?”
“So he’s just a legal bargaining chip for you? How sweet.” You pulled against your restraints until the metal broke skin. Blood oozed from your wrist and Bud laughed.
“Really, Jason couldn’t have picked a better girl for the job. You’re the most disposable person in this town. No family, no friends, no one to report you missing.” He strapped the main bomb to the other end of the bed and started the timer. “And there will be nothing left of you once this does it’s job.”
“Go to hell.”
“Lady’s first.”
You stared at him, wandering if he was the last person you’d ever see. God, that’d be the real tragedy here. You looked at the timer on the bomb. Less than three minutes. Bud noticed you looking and chuckled.
“I wouldn’t get any ideas. If that one doesn’t go off, there are three more upstairs.” He pointed to the ceiling and then made the motion of it caving in with his hands.
“You’re enjoying this to a creepy level, Mr. Dean.” You snarked. If you could piss him off, maybe he wouldn’t get out in time. At least then you’d take him out with you. “What, does blowing up 18-year-old girls get you off or something? Is that why your wife killed herself?” He tensed and balled his hand into a fist.
“You think you’re really cute, don’t you, you little bitch?”
“No, but your son does.” You smiled sarcastically. Bud just rolled his eyes and turned to leave, meeting the barrel of a gun.
“Hey there, son.” J.D. growled. Bud held up his hands.
“Jason, I can-” The gunshot ripped through the small space, making your ears ring. As his dad’s body slumped to the floor, J.D. shrugged.
“Sorry, tiger, I’m not in the mood for a monologue.” He knelt in front of you, eyes darting to the timer on the other side.
“Jason Dean, knight in shining black trenchcoat.” You laughed, pulling again at the handcuffs. He moved over to his dad’s body, searching his pockets but coming back empty handed.
“Shit.” He muttered under his breath.
“What is it?”
“No key.” J.D. ran his fingers through his hair, switching his attention to disabling the bomb. Your face fell as the realization hit you.
“It’s no use. There are more upstairs that are going to go off even if this one doesn’t.” You slumped against the bed frame. His greenish gold eyes looked back at you and for a second you though you saw a hint of panic. You really did love him. “You should go.”
“What?”
“Get out of here, J.D. You don’t have much time.” You tried to keep calm, but your body was betraying you. Your arms were shaking and your face felt hot. You weren’t scared to die, but you were scared to die alone.
“You really think I’m just going to leave you here?” J.D. shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed frame. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me now. Afterlife and all.”
“J.D…” You sighed. He silenced you with a hungry kiss.
“What did I say after we killed that douchebag ex of yours?” He pulled you closer, snaking an arm around your back. Your lips pulled up into a smile.
“Our love is God.”
“Our love is God.” He repeated, his eyes sparkling. This time, you pulled him in for the kiss and you stayed pressed together until-
Boom.
-
General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks Christian Slater: @staxryskxes
#heathers#chaos is what killed the dinosaurs darling#our love is god#jason dean#J.D. x reader#christian slater#80s#death#murder
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Full interview below.
The first thing Max Minghella does when he joins our Zoom call is ask me about the weather. It wasn't just a conversational cliché though, he really wanted to know what it was like where I was. I tell him I'm in New York City, where spring can surprise you with a day that's colder or warmer than it looks. This particular day was chilly. "I'm always cold," he interjects, "I'm reptilian. My body finds a way to keep me cool." He shivered as he spoke, sitting in his sunny backyard in Los Angeles wearing a T-shirt. I checked the temperature right after our call. It was 80 degrees in L.A.
Despite any discomfort, Minghella is just really happy to be at home. Unlike the millions of people who spent 2020 in quarantine, he was working on season four of The Handmaid's Tale throughout the spring and summer."I'm sort of jealous of people who have this moment to pause and reflect," he says soberly. "Even with all of the trauma it's caused and all the things that obviously were detrimental, I know a lot of people who've had big life changes in the past year."
He acknowledged, however, that creating something in a time when everyone wished they could escape was ultimately a lucky thing. "There was a ubiquitous sense of gratitude," he adds.
Outside of the global pandemic, the dynamics on set had shifted — this season, his co-star Elisabeth Moss (or "Lizzie" as he affectionately calls her), was a director. "She was amazing on set," he explained. "Just very in control and it ran super smoothly. When I saw the episodes she directed, it just kind of blew me away. Her style — it's very cinematic and it really underlines the sci-fi elements of the show. It has a real kind of scope and confidence to it. I think she's a real filmmaker."
RELATED: Marvel's New Face Danny Ramirez Has the Range
Minghella's character Nick has an interesting arc this season too – he's realizing his role as a senior member of the Gilead ruling class, but also still in love with June [Moss]. It's a complex character that challenges you as an audience member. He is the brooding love interest, and while you may root for him and June to be together, you also have to see him for what he is: an architect of a world that kidnaps women and uses them for childbearing.
What made the previous three seasons of the show even harder for viewers to digest was the fact that people so badly wanted to believe there could be a good guy defector — maybe even Nick — in a room full of bad guys. During those years, many people felt that the dystopian elements of the show were reflective of the nationalist agenda being put forth in the United States by the Trump Administration. So much so that a group of protesters famously wore Handmaid costumes to protest anti-abortion bills and Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation hearings. Without saying much about the parallels in the show — other than chalking them up to "pure coincidence," Minghella felt the Handmaid's Tale, whose protagonists are anti-Gilead, are "on the right side of history." He added diplomatically, "Ultimately, I'm most proud because I think it's really great fiction."
I get the sense that the pursuit of "great fiction" is something that consumes Minghella. He's someone who appreciates art (he got his big break in 2006's Art School Confidential), and his parents are Anthony Minghella, the late award-winning director of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and actress Carolyn Choa. He loves details (see our earlier weather conversation). Even the way he talks about Los Angeles has a story-like quality. He tells me about how he knew when the city became his home after a feeling he got driving past the Silver Lake 7-Eleven. As he told it, I pictured it like a scene in an indie movie starring Zach Braff.
"I had this sort of pathological obsession with movies from birth. [My mother] worked for the British equivalent of the Motion Picture Association, so she would watch three films a day. By three or four years old, I was just kind of an obsessed movie person." It's his favorite movie, Beverly Hills Cop ("I think I saw 100 times by the time I was eight years old," he says) that inspired another big role he was working on during quarantine: Minghella stars as a detective opposite Chris Rock in the Saw franchise spin-off Spiral: From the Book of Saw.
"The movie was so serendipitous for me. I feel like I almost manifested it in my life," Minghella muses. "There's a line very early in the movie where we're investigating these crime scenes and we come to a grizzly one. My character looks nauseous. Chris's [character] says to me, 'Are you okay?' And my character says, 'Yeah. I mean I'd been dreaming about this since I was 12-years-old.' And that was a very kind of weird line because it's just true."
Now at 35 years old, Minghella is feeling settled. He is still a "film nerd" that gets giddy with each new opportunity, but he's less anxious about the results. Next thing on his list? Vacation.
"I'm hoping in May once the movie comes out I can run away somewhere."
Read on for his cheesy would-be campaign slogan, his fast-food weakness, and the time he escaped a tornado while working on a film with Blake Lively.
Who is your celebrity crush?
Mary Tyler Moore.
What's the last thing you do before you fall asleep?
I listen to 1950s radio shows. Usually Dragnet. I was researching a project in that period briefly and got sort of into the radio culture of that time. And now I find it incredibly soothing.
Favorite villain?
Hans Gruber.
Describe a memorable dream.
I had a recurring nightmare as a child in which my grandmother turned into a cat. So Tom Hooper's Cats was very traumatizing to me.
First album you ever owned?
My mother bought me the Top Gun soundtrack on audio cassette.
If you were required to spend $1,000 today, what would you buy and why?
I would do anything to help a distressed dog.
If you ran for office, what would your slogan be?
Some kind of tacky pun using my first name. "Take it to the Max," or maybe "Max on, Max off."
Name one place you've never been but have always wanted to go.
Easy. Japan. I went when I was one, but I don't think that counts.
What's the most uncomfortable outfit you've ever worn?
I did a film called Art School Confidential and I had to wear a beret and I found every moment of it truly humiliating. I remember being completely traumatized by it.
Describe your first kiss.
My first kiss was at a bus stop. I was 14 and I lied and told the girl that it wasn't my first kiss, but I think it was probably immediately evident that it was.
What's one dish you're always tempted to order if you see it on a menu?
There are so many things. That's the sad answer. French fries is the truth.
Favorite on-set memory?
I did a movie called Elvis and Anabelle with Blake Lively like 100 years ago and we shot in Texas. There was a tornado one night that forced us to evacuate the set and we had to sort of drive off in a hurry. I put on this song by The Knife called "Pass This On" in the car which is very dramatic and cinematic. The tornado was sort of in pursuit of the vehicle while we were speeding away. And it was just far enough that it wasn't life-threatening, but also a radical visual. That's one of my favorite life memories.
The Handmaid's Tale season 4 premieres on Hulu April 28, and Spiral: From the Book of Saw hits theaters on May 11.
Photographs by Emily Malan. Grooming by Sonia Lee for Exclusive Artists using La Mer. Polaroid Photos by Max Minghella. Special thanks to Polaroid. Production by Kelly Chiello.
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Hi! Can I please get an imagine where the reader is Bombay’s daughter and he’s never been around because of his job and that he left the readers mum years ago. But he comes back to coach her team, not knowing she plays and they argue, he pleads to get to know her etc.☺️😄basically the absentee!father x reader who wishes for a father but doesn’t know how to forgive him
TITLE: Forgiveness [Can you imagine?] (Bombay x daughter!reader)
✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!
Prompt/summary: Bombay tries to reconnect with the daughter he walked out on 8 years ago.
Word Count: 2,519
Authors note: You said argue? Alright here’s some angst. It feels so good to be writing for The Mighty Ducks again, this is one of my favorite movies so I’m so happy I got a request for it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Every summer I used to get the same letter from my dad. It actually wasn’t even a letter. It was child support.
Every fall we used to stop by the diner in town to get milkshakes to celebrate the anniversary of him leaving us. It wasn’t that he was a terrible dad, she just knew she could do better for the both of us if he wasn’t around. After 8 years she still got the same order every time we went to the diner, and every year Mrs. Conway was still there taking our order.
Her son Charlie was always there too. Both of us played on the same hockey team and every winter we would drag our gear down to the pond to practice with our team.
That entire routine changed after one day.
“Goldburg you’re the goalie, the puck is supposed to hit you,” Charlie sighed as he skated towards us.
“Does that sound stupid to anyone else?” the goalie groaned.
I rolled my eyes at him before lining up another shot.
After a few more shots Charlie tapped my shoulder, he looked in wonder as a car drove out onto the ice. We all wandered over and a man in a finely pressed suit stepped out.
“Wait, that can’t be him-” I mumbled.
“We ain’t buying nothing man, I’m feeling generous today so I’ll let your sorry vanilla bootie outta here before we use your eyeballs as hockey pucks!” Jesse said.
“Thanks bro,” the man rolled his eyes before going to reach in to his jacket, “but I’m not going home ‘til I take care of business.”
The group slowly backed up. When the man pulled out a piece of paper and not a gun we all sighed in relief.
“District five pee-wee hockey team, I’m Gordon Bombay. Your new coach.”
The team laughed as I locked eyes with Charlie. He saw the absolute panic in my eyes.
“Got the roster right here. Averman, Dave. Bombay, (Y/n). Conway, Charlie. ”
His face scrunched up as he got to mine. Confusion or being uncomfortable. Either way I couldn’t tell. Luckily no one seemed to notice the fact that I had the same last name as the coach.
“Here’s the long and the short of it. I hate hockey and I don’t like kids. I’m sure this will be a real bonding experience. Maybe one day, one of you will even write a book about it in jail.”
Charlie nudged my shoulder, looking at me with a questioning look. I sighed, “He used to love hockey, but he really seems to hate kids. My mom said she heard that he got a DWI last week.”
Bombay ordered us to scrimmage. We all dove for the puck. Players tripped and fell over each other as we desperately tried to play. I finally got the puck and started to make a move towards the goal when Jesse (accidentally or not) hooked my ankle with his stick as he fell. Connie skated over quickly to help me up before taking off over to Bombay.
I rubbed my sore elbows as Charlie and I skated back over to the car that was still parked on the ice. Bombay brushed the team off by saying we need to scrimmage more and got back into the car.
“What a jerk,” Peter said.
Eventually the team came to the amazing conclusion we should hijack the car. On Peters mark, we all jumped on the car, shook it, and climbed inside.
“We want a ride! We want a ride!” Connie began to chant as we all joined in.
“Take em for a spin, anything!” Bombay said, we all cheered as they started driving.
The fun didn’t last for long. Charlie’s mom soon appeared on the ice and made us all get out.
She furiously shouted, “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking putting that car on the ice? My son was in that car!”
“Lady lady relax,” Bombay said, “The ice is not gonna crack.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she said. Charlie and I slowly got out of the car and skated to the side to take off our skates.
Bombay sighed, “Gordon Bombay, the new hockey coach.”
Oh lord he was in for it now.
“Oh you’re the dead beat that married (Y/m/n). They send you down here to coach the team and you endanger their lives. You endangered your daughter's life!”
I hid my face with my hand as Bombay looked back at me. Oh god he knows now.
Charlie’s mom eventually pulled us away and drove us home. I knew I’d be hearing about this from my mom later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By order of the state of Minnesota Bombay was at the game the next day. I’d made it my mission to avoid my “dad”. Charlie did a good job of keeping him away, asking him questions or distracting him. I knew I’d have to talk to him eventually but until then I was content with pretending I wasn’t his daughter.
The game was a joke. We didn’t score any goals. Didn’t get a chance to defend ourselves as the Hawks beat us into the ground. 9-0. I left the game with bruises on my face and arms. My helmet was barely covering my face and my hockey pads were my dad’s old ones from the 80’s. One of the few things I stole from his house when we left. Charlie was extremely frustrated at the missed shot he had towards the end of the second period.
As the team sat arguing I was putting my gear up.
“I thought we came here to play hockey. Do you guys think losing is funny?” Bombay yelled.
“It’s not like you coach us or anything. At least we tried,” Jesse said.
Bombay’s face went red with rage, “That was the sloppiest playing I’ve ever seen. Why the hell won’t you just listen to me?!”
I stood up, shouldering my bag, “Why the hell should we?”
The team followed me out of the box.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next game was a disaster. Bombay encouraged us to lie, cheat, and foul our way through the game. Bombay was furious when Charlie wouldn’t do his little act when he was cornered. The bruises on my face still hadn’t healed properly.
The locker room was filled with groans as everyone agreed the game was pathetic.
“Charlie! When I tell you to do something, you do it! Got it?”
“You can’t make me cheat,” Charlie said walking out of the locker room.
Jessie and Terry’s dad stormed into the locker room, “LEt’s go boys. This is what I gave up my overtime pay for? To watch my kids take falls? You’re a pathetic excuse for a coach, and an even more pathetic father if you can let your daughter get beaten up like that.”
The team’s heads turned to me as he pointed in my direction. I let my head fall as I stormed out behind Jessie and Terry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I really thought I could keep avoiding him. I didn’t think he would come and try to find me.
The next day at practice was a shock for everyone. We all got new uniforms, gear, and sticks. Everyone was pumped up during practice and we even got two new players.
“What changed?” I asked Charlie.
He shrugged, “I don’t know. He came and apologized last night.”
My blood boiled. He can apologize to another kid but not his own daughter who he practically abandoned. I warmed up to him as practice went on but in the back of my mind there was still that thought lingering.
“(Y/n), you’re riding home with me,” Bombay told me as I packed up my stuff.
I looked at him confused, “But-”
“Your mom said it was okay.”
I silently followed him out to the car, the driver had rolled up the middle window so we could have some privacy.
“So…” he said, I stayed quiet still looking out the window, “Your mom told me you never quit hockey. Even after I…”
“Left?”
He sighed, “Yeah I guess it was like that wasn’t it?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Look (Y/n), if I had known how much it had affected you I never would’ve stepped out that door. Your mom and I… we just weren’t good together.”
I scoffed, “No, your drinking side just didn’t line up with the fact mom wanted a decent husband.”
He went to speak again but quickly closed his mouth.
“I’ll just imagine me forgiving you. Maybe one day I can actually do it with meaning,” I sighed and went to pick my bag up as the driver pulled up to the curb.
“(Y/n),” he said grabbing my arm, “I already talked to Charlie about this. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. I never should have asked you guys to cheat. And I definitely shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you guys. I’d do anything to try and get you to forgive me.”
“I’m just confused as to why your star player got an apology before your daughter did. I’ve been waiting for that for 8 years. If you truly wanted that from me you should’ve tried a long time ago.”
I slammed the car door as I got out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few days I spent at Charlie’s house when my mom wasn’t home, hoping Bombay wouldn’t come track me down again.
“(Y/n)?” Charlie said, “Someone left a package for you.”
I looked up from the comic books that were sprawled across Charlie’s bed in confusion as he sat the brown paper package down. My name was written across it in black sharpie.
Charlie shook his head, “Well, are you gonna open it?”
“I think I already know who it’s from.”
“(Y/n), he really wants to make it up to you. Just open it.”
I sighed and slowly ripped the paper, inside was a jersey. My favorite hockey team’s jersey.
“Woah,” I said.
Charlie scoffed, “Your dad sent you that? How’d he know your favorite team?”
“Cause it’s his favorite too. Charlie this is his vintage jersey.”
“Well,” he said, “Maybe you can start imagining that forgiveness part.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The Ducks? We’re the ducks? What brain dead jerk came up with that name,” Peter scoffed.
“As a matter of fact,” Bombay said pulling a jersey out of the box, “I did. But I didn’t have a choice, we’re being sponsored. You’d rather be district 5? Some stupid number?”
“They don’t even have teeth,” Peter said.
“Neither do hockey players,” he said, we all giggled, “Have you ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It’s beautiful. Pretty awesome how they all stick together. The other animals are afraid, cause they know if they mess with one duck then they’ll get the whole flock.”
Bombay walked around the locker room giving his little speech. He smiled when he got to me, his eyes flicking down to see I was wearing the old jersey he had left for me.
He whipped off his coat to reveal his Ducks jersey underneath as we all laughed, “I’m proud to be a duck, and I’d be proud to fly with any one of you.”
Charlie and I smiled at each other.
“So how about it? Who’s a duck?”
Silence followed as everyone looked around the room to see who would go first.
“I’ll be a duck,” our new player Fulton Reed said.
I smiled and placed my hockey stick on the bench, “I’ll join the flock.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said following suit, “me too.”
Soon enough the whole team joined in. Grabbing jerseys and cheering.
“We are the ducks!” Bombay shouted, “The Mighty Ducks!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few games were amazing. Our winning streak started to pick up and soon enough we were getting ready to face off against Cardinals.
Charlie and I were named the dynamic duo. Our ability to make plays and take shots off of each other improved everyday. But that put a target on our back.
It was the third quarter, we had to make one shot to pull us out of a tie and win. The crowd was going crazy as Charlie and I sped up the ice. Our team following behind us for backup.
It was a stupid idea.
Charlie went to take a shot as I saw a goon defender moving in for the body check. So I threw myself in between Charlie and the goon. My head snapped back against the glass as I heard the buzzer go off signaling a goal.
The team cheered. Charlie frantically raced over to me.
“(Y/n)?”
I could barely hear him, the ringing in my ears was so loud, “Where’s my dad?”
Charlie looked confused before shouting over to Bombay.
“(Y/n)? Can you hear me?” he said.
“Dad?” I started to cry as the pain caught up to me.
“Get her helmet off Charlie,” he said, I felt Charlie gently take it off and the coolness of the ice against the back of my head, “(Y/n) the paramedics are gonna get you off the ice okay?”
I felt myself being picked up off the ice and lifted onto a stretcher, the crowd clapped as I was rolled off the ice.
The ride to the hospital was short, Charlie’s mom called my mom's work to tell her what happened and she rushed over as Casey rode to the hospital with me.
“Where’s my dad?”
“He had to finish up the game, he’s gonna meet us there afterwards.”
Everything happened really fast when we got there, I wasn’t allowed to sleep even though I was super tired.
“Look who’s here” Casey said. I turned to see Bombay and Charlie walking in.
“Woah,” I yelped as Charlie ran over to give me a hug.
“Are you crazy? You won’t be able to play at the next game!”
I laughed, “At least we get a next game. It was worth it.”
He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair. Bombay sat down in the chair beside the hospital bed. Casey and Charlie walked outside.
“Do you remember what happened after you took that hit?”
I paused trying to think back to earlier, “Um… not really.”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it in front of the team. You called me dad.”
I turned my head to look down at the sheets, “Oh…”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” he laughed, “But the team is definitely going to have questions for you tomorrow.”
I smiled.
“Alright, grab your stuff. The doctor said you can go, you just can’t practice or play in a game for a week.”
My eyes widened, “A week?!”
“Yes,” he said, “And I better not hear any complaints. I’ll make you run extra. Your moms waiting on us.”
“Where?”
“At the diner, she said something about milkshakes.”
I smiled, “We always get milkshakes after games.”
“Well, it’s on me tonight.”
I jumped up and gave him a hug before running out to grab Charlie. I think I can imagine that forgiveness thing now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#the mighty ducks#the mighty ducks imagine#gordon bombay#emelio estevez#gordon bombay imagine#gordon bombay x daughter!reader#emelio estevez imagine
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I'm slightly disappointed to log onto Zoom and find Gwen Stefani in Los Angeles. I wanted to see the ranch. Stefani spent most of the pandemic in Oklahoma with her fiancé and fellow The Voice coach Blake Shelton, with whom she has recently collaborated on a string of country radio hits, alongside a kitsch Christmas song. For a ska-pop superstar, it's a pivot, but Stefani and Shelton are cute together — picture-perfect in their opposite attraction.
Country Gwen exists, her urban counterpart assures me, but on this particular MacBook she's nowhere to be seen. I'm not sure what crude regional stereotypes I was expecting (Stefani spitting sunflower seeds? Shelton line dancing in the background?) but I get Californian sunshine instead, illuminating a version of Stefani more familiar from my teenage years, when Love. Angel. Music. Baby and its follow-up The Sweet Escape spawned millions of fans, haters and imitators. She's platinum blonde, red lipsticked and wearing a black-and-white outfit that matches the decor. The checkerboard pattern can be traced back to an even earlier era, when Stefani and her No Doubt bandmates were '80s teenagers obsessed with two-tone acts like Madness and The Specials.
Cowboy boots wouldn't fit this picture, and nor would Stefani's glitzy showgirl outfits from The Voice, where she just wrapped another season as a celebrity coach. As she prepares to release her fourth solo record, and enters the fifth decade of an extraordinarily successful music career, Gwen Stefani is re-re-branding as... Gwen Stefani.
Top: Local Boogeyman, Pants: GCDS, Shoes: Valentino, Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own, Engagement ring: Gwen's own
"But what is that?" Stefani asks with seriousness, as we consider the possibility of some essential, inherent Gwen. "Everyone's interpretation of what I am and how I sing, I mean, that's what this era is about for me."
Said era kicked off late last year, with the music video for "Let Me Reintroduce Myself." It saw Stefani playfully revisit the wardrobes of album cycles past, from the ab-bearing tomboy tank tops of "Hollaback Girl" to the club kid blue hair mascara of '90s No Doubt. Her Harajuku Girls also make a return. The entire visual is a huge flex, not only for the sheer volume of iconic career moments recreated in dutiful detail, but the fact Stefani can still fit into the clothes originally worn during all of them. She looks eerily the same, frighteningly good, ageing in reverse at the same pace as her frequent collaborator Pharrell.
"It's really a blessing to be able to have such a long career, where there really is nothing to prove anymore."
Pop stars are expected to be young forever, in looks but also in their capacity to innovate new trends. Which makes the nostalgic music video a curious choice. Doesn't Stefani know by now that the cardinal rule of pop is to avoid repeating yourself? That even the hottest artists in the world are basically required by law to create completely new eras from scratch every six months in order to appease fans and maintain maximum TikTok-ready relevance?
Of course she does, but that doesn't mean she has to participate. Stefani isn't trying to chase down her contemporaries, despite clearly possessing the physical fitness required. "It's really a blessing to be able to have such a long career, where there really is nothing to prove anymore," she says. "It's a different energy. You know, it's really just about doing it to do it, as opposed to trying to make a statement or make a mark."
Corset: Ronald van der Kemp, Bracelets: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Engagement ring: Gwen's own
Even the Saweetie remix of her latest single "Slow Clap" happened on a whim, after the younger artist happened to post a video of herself vibing to Stefani's 2004 single "Luxurious" on Instagram Stories. They knocked out the song and accompanying video in a day. Neither seems bothered by the Old Navy meme. "It was just this little video that we did on the fly," Stefani says. "It just happened. It just feels good to put new stuff out there."
Stefani completed a two-year Vegas greatest hits residency in 2019, which gave her a sense of perspective on her own legacy. "You make a new record because that's what is exciting for you," she says. "But people really just want to hear the records after a while that were the backdrop to their lives, a 'Don't Speak' or a 'Just a Girl' or a 'Hollaback Girl,' or whatever it was for them. So, you know, it's hard — you can only be new when you're new, and that's just the truth, and I know that."
She says she was pleasantly surprised that "Let Me Reintroduce Myself" charted at all, and that she only found out it did when Shelton walked into the kitchen to show her the iTunes numbers. "I burst out crying with joy, because it was like, 'Whoa, really?' I think I'd set myself up to be quite realistic about where I'm at."
Stefani, endlessly polite and self-deprecating in conversation, which on her end mostly consists of endearingly earnest run-on monologues, says she still has "tons" of insecurities. I get the impression she has been trying harder to give herself credit lately. She recalls recently hearing Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" on the car radio and finding herself in awe of the song's timeless catchiness.
Suit: Balmain, Earrings and choker: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own
"But then I started thinking," she says, in a goofy Cher Horowitz tone. "Like, I have a few of those myself." She talks of this realization as a genuine breakthrough, which is a little worrying for a woman who has sold 40 million records. No shit, she has a "few of those." More of them than Lauper, actually.
More new music is coming along slowly, but I've caught Stefani on a day when the horizon looks closer than usual, and while things haven't quite fallen into place yet, she's feeling more confident that they eventually will. "I'm at the end," she declares. "The idea of going for a session and not being with my kids or the idea of taking time away from Blake doesn't fuel my fire like it did two months ago. I need to decide, wrap it up, put out the project."
Crucially, there's no rush. The album will simply arrive sometime this year, tracklist and title currently undecided.
"You're talking to me at a weird transitional time," Stefani says repeatedly throughout our conversation, which sometimes takes on the cathartic tone of therapy. But having time in the first place is a new feeling.
Bracelet and choker: Dana Kemp (The Residency Experience), Obsession necklace: Lidow Archive, Gold necklaces: Gwen's own, Clothing: Blumarine, Boots: Philipp Plein
NO DOUBT WERE A BAND for nine years before getting on the radio. Enough time for Stefani and bassist Tony Kanal to be in a long term relationship then break up and write a whole hit album about it. All of the Fleetwood Mac drama was resolved pre-fame, which enabled the group to capitalize on the surprise success of Tragic Kingdom singles like "Don't Speak" and "Just a Girl" with a world tour that lasted almost three years. Three more albums followed, and Stefani has reinforced her household name status in every decade since, launching a solo career and multiple fashion lines while never totally cutting the cord from her original musical project.
In other words, record executives have been dictating Stefani's schedule since the mid-'90s. She even sings about it on Love. Angel. Music. Baby opener "What You Waiting For," in which her biological clock ticks like a metronome. Interscope Co-Founder Jimmy Iovine, who discovered No Doubt and continued to work with Stefani on her solo output, was quick to point out that his client's prime childbearing years were also her last opportunity to cross over into pop stardom. And after her first record went number one, it only made sense to lay down some new tracks straight away.
"Whether or not I get the response that I would hope to get — because that's what I'm used to, because I'm so damn spoiled and I've tasted the blood of success — I still got to do the creative journey."
"I had the baby, the first one, and it was only like eight weeks after I had him, that Jimmy was calling me saying, you've got to go in the studio with Akon," Stefani recalls cheerfully. "Like, Akon wants to work with you. Like, no, I'm nursing my baby. But then I couldn't say no." And then? "We wrote 'Sweet Escape.'" And then? "I went on a world tour." And then? "In the month that I got home from that one hundred and whatever shows it was, I got pregnant with Zuma. So then that was that." (It wasn't. Admittedly: "Then it was like, No Doubt, let's do another record.")
Things are different now: "You can just drop singles and you don't have to put a record out. But if you want to put a record out, you can work on it slowly." But even as she talks of slowing down, speculating that she might not even go on tour after the pandemic ends, in the next sentence Stefani's back to admitting that there's more work to be done, that she wants to write a couple more songs for her new record, "just to make sure."
Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience) Choker: Chanel, Necklaces: Gwen's own, Gloves: Laurel DeWitt, Top: Local Boogeyman
"The creation is the thing that fuels me so much," she says. "Whether or not I get the response that I would hope to get — because that's what I'm used to, because I'm so damn spoiled and I've tasted the blood of success — I still got to do the creative journey."
Like any good lyricist, she reaches out to her listener, hoping to convey a more universal point. "It's just probably the same for you as a writer," she guesses. "You know, it's the anticipation. You're in it now. You're getting the information. This is what you live for. You're doing the interview and then you're going to write it. And that's going to be the challenge."
GWEN STEFANI WAS PUTTING out diary entry pop when Olivia Rodrigo was still in diapers and Taylor Swift was but a humble Pennsylvania Christmas tree heiress. She struggles to pen lyrics that aren't confessional ("I'm not a creative writer when it comes to like, 'Oh, let's just write a sad song about something that didn't happen to me'"), and occasionally re-traumatizes herself when performing old hits. Return of Saturn deep cut "Dark Blue" triggers "crazy, just horrible" recollections of a past relationship. Even "Don't Speak" felt emotional onstage in Vegas.
But after releasing an excruciating divorce album, This Is What the Truth Feels Like, in 2016, Stefani is back to writing happy songs only. She's getting married, after all. She won't be releasing any of her trademark breakup anthems anytime soon. "Girl," she laughs, "I think I've had my fair share."
Bow: Laurel DeWitt, Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Bracelets: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Shirt: Vintage Archive, Dress: Erdem, Tights: Capezio, Shoes: Marc Jacobs (Lidow Archive)
Stefani and Shelton's relationship has puzzled some fans. Shelton, a country radio phenomenon, never endorsed Trump in the 2016 election, but he did come close. Earlier this year, he was criticized for releasing a song called "Minimum Wage," about finding small joys during periods of economic struggle, at the peak of a recession.
Is Gwen Stefani a Republican now? She's not offended by the question, or really anything I have to ask. She has been famous for so long that she expects and even embraces scrutiny. "If you're going to be a star, that's what you get," she says. "You know what I mean? You get what you get, and you don't get upset, at all."
As for her politics, it's read-between-the-lines."I can see how people would be curious, but I think it's pretty obvious who I am," she says. "I've been around forever. I started my band because we were really influenced by ska, which was a movement that happened in the late '70s, and it was really all about people coming together. The first song I ever wrote was a song called 'Different People,' which was on the Obama playlist, you know, a song about everyone being different and being the same and loving each other. The very first song I wrote."
One of very few multi-racial bands playing stadium shows for hoardes of American teenangers in the 1990s, No Doubt did very literally embody those second-wave ska principles of inclusion. Stefani even wore bindis and saris on stage as a symbol of cultural exchange with Kanal, who is Indian-American, briefly kickstarting a white girl facial jewelry trend that it's safe to say would not fly in 2021.
Rings (left): Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience)
"The Specials and The Selecter and all those groups, and what they were doing in the late '70s was this whole kind of anti-racism, we come together, Black and white ska movement," Stefani elaborates on the band's founding principles. "And we were sort of echoing that in the '80s when we did it, we were like the third generation of ska."
Ska she's always happy to discuss, but Stefani was brought up to keep her electoral preferences personal, and that rule has held for her entire career. "The whole point of voting, is you have this personal space to feel how you feel," she explains. "I use my platform to share my life story and to engage with people and to exchange whatever gift I was giving. I'm not a political science major. I am not that person. Everyone knows that. So why would I even talk about it?"
"I don't need to go on Instagram and say 'girl power.' I just need to live and be a good person and leave a trail of greatness behind me."
It never has been. Looking back, it's weird that "Just a Girl" is so integral to Gwen Stefani's brand. She's never written anything else with remotely the same message, and or publicly identified as a feminist. To Stefani, it's just a song about growing up, and "all of a sudden you realize your gender." It wasn't meant as a protest or anthem: in fact, being her breakout hit, she didn't think anyone other than her bandmates and some local fans would ever hear it.
"I don't even know if I knew what feminist at that time was," she says. "I was very sheltered growing up with my family. I wasn't political. I wasn't angry." Even now: "I don't need to go on Instagram and say 'girl power.' I just need to live and be a good person and leave a trail of greatness behind me. Stop talking about it and stop trying to bully everybody about it. Just do it. And that's how I feel like I've lived my life."
WHEN STEFANI WAS GROWING up in 1970s Anaheim, her father got a job doing market research for Yamaha, which required frequent business trips to Japan. He'd bring home Sanrio toys, as well as anecdotes about the Tokyo district of Harajuku, where teenagers were dressing like Elvis, and "taking all these American things and making them Japanese." His daughter was entranced. "He would be telling me these things my whole life, like my whole life. I had a deep fascination."
So when No Doubt played Japan in 1996, Stefani describes, "It was a pretty big deal for me." The tour was the first time she'd traveled outside of the United states, save one trip to Italy when she was 21. "I just was inspired," she recalls. "It's a world away. And at that time it was even further, because you couldn't see it on the internet. I don't think a younger generation can even imagine what it's like to not have access to the world."
From then on, Japan became one of Stefani's biggest career motivations, especially when it came to her solo albums. If she could just write more hits, she'd get to tour there again, see the street style, visit the vintage stores. "If you read the actual lyrics [in 'What You Waiting For?'], it talks about being a fan of Japan and how if I do good, I get to go back there," she says.
In the meantime, she decided she'd bring Japan to Los Angeles. "I never got to have dancers with No Doubt. I never got to change costumes. I never got to do all of those fun girl things that I always love to do. So I had this idea that I would have a posse of girls — because I never got to hang with girls — and they would be Japanese, Harajuku girls, because those are the girls that I love. Those are my homies. That's where I would be if I had my dream come true, I could go live there and I could go hang out in Harajuku."
Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience, Gold Necklaces: Gwen's own, Top: Local Boogeyman, Pants: GCDS, Shoes: Valentino
Dancers Maya Chino ("Love"), Jennifer Kita ("Angel"), Rino Nakasone ("Music") and Mayuko Kitayama ("Baby") would go on to accompany Stefani for her next two album cycles, dancing on stage and in her videos while also making silent, but very well-dressed, awards show appearances. Kita, who'd grown up in LA, visited Japan for the first time on Stefani's tour.
In a 2006 interview with Blender magazine, comedian Margaret Cho compared the Harajuku Girls to a minstrel show. The backlash against them has been consistent ever since. Stefani, to this day, disagrees.
"If we didn't buy and sell and trade our cultures in, we wouldn't have so much beauty, you know?" she says. "We learn from each other, we share from each other, we grow from each other. And all these rules are just dividing us more and more."
Hello Kitty merch was harder to come by when she was a kid, but in other ways, life felt easier. "I think that we grew up in a time where we didn't have so many rules. We didn't have to follow a narrative that was being edited for us through social media, we just had so much more freedom."
Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own, Dress: GCDS, Shirt: Faith Connexion, Tights: Capezio, Shoes: Marc Jacobs (Lidow Archive)
Stefani's penchant for rule breaking has always been apparent in her music as much as her aesthetic. Genre-wise, she's a randomista. The chart success of No Doubt's bouncing ska beats felt like an accidental post-grunge-era glitch in the matrix, and it's insane to this day that one of Stefani's biggest solo hits samples "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof, by way of '90s British dancehall duo Louchie Lou & Michie One. That another, "Wind It Up," features earnest Sound of Music yodeling.
"I just make up whatever comes out," Stefani says of her songwriting process. "I don't even know where it comes from. I feel like it just comes from the source. It's not trained, and it's not perfect, it's just real."
She looks back on the Love.Angel.Music.Baby era as unusually experimental and artistically fulfilling. "It was just a really incredible time, and a very creative time. I feel like it was just a really creative project."
STEFANI VIEWS HER CAREER success as mostly a matter of luck. Pop stardom is God-given and mysterious."Because the fact I made it, it doesn't make any sense," she reflects. "It's written in the stars. You know what I'm saying? I'm not the most talented. I'm not the most pretty. I'm not the most smart. None of those things. But I made it, right?"
Clothing: Blumarine, Bracelet and choker: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Obsession necklace: Lidow Archive, Gold necklaces: Gwen's Own
Every week on The Voice she watches objectively gifted musicians fail at becoming artists. "I watched people that went through that without seeing their faces, without knowing what color they are. And I chose the ones that pulled my heartstrings. And even though they were so talented, none of them have had careers. It's made me look at myself and even feel even more amazed by the fact that anyone cared or cares."
If all of this is actually so out of her control, then Stefani feels safe stepping back a little bit. "I don't have that fuel in me like I used to, because I already won," she says. And now she has other victories in mind. "Being a good human, a good mother. I want to have a good marriage. I want to be a good wife. I want to win at finding peace. I want to win at finding other hobbies that I'm good at."
But at the same time? "If I'm inspired, I'm going to try to do something with that inspiration." That's the most fun part: whatever else comes after has always been an amazing bonus.
The "Let Me Reintroduce Myself" era, whatever form it may eventually take, isn't a desperate grab at former glory. It's Stefani refusing to evolve for the sake of it. She's poking fun at the whole idea of having to compete with past personas alongside current ones, while acknowledging the fact she's grateful to still be in the game at all.
"You don't know what you're doing," she says, somehow both confident and resigned. "You're a cartoon of yourself at this point, and you don't know what people are thinking. They're wondering, what? Why are you still here? And I'm like, I don't know. They said I could be here. So I'm here!"
Photography: Jamie Nelson Styling: Nicola Formichetti Hair: Sami Knight Makeup: Michael Anthony Nails: Carolyn Orellana Wardrobe director: Marta Del Rio Production: Katrina Kudlick Digitatech: Sean MacGillivray Logo design: Luca Devinu Story: Kat Gillespie
FROM YOUR SITE ARTICLES
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Only the Light Ch. 13
13/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Christmas Eve 1994 | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3
As Scully copes with her diagnosis, Mulder joins her for the Scully family Christmas dinner. Plus, Melissa's girlfriend meets the family.
TW for disordered eating, cigarette smoking, references to abduction/medical rape.
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Self destruction is a natural impulse for Dana Scully, though she’ll try to deny it. Take one unexplained abduction, add a dash of premature menopause, and sift out time spent proving Mulder wrong, and you’ll get a struggling Scully.
She can tell she’s entering a bad mental state when food becomes a suggestion rather than a necessity. Every bite is either earned according to whatever trivial rules she’s set for herself in that particular moment, or is not deserved and therefore not eaten. It’s a game where she’s the coach, player, and referee, yet she still loses every time. Nourishment is both prize and punishment, feeding her hunger but vacating her control.
This habit started when she was a teenager and wracked with feelings her petite frame couldn’t contain. It felt much safer than the route her siblings had taken of sneaking out in the middle of the night or using fake IDs to buy alcohol or skipping church on the regular. As far as fifteen-year-old her was concerned, she wasn’t bothering anyone by foregoing some meals. Her mother disagreed and called her out every time, humiliating her into her second coping mechanism, smoking.
There were the times when Scully was really young and enticed by her sister’s cigarettes, but that was simple preteen rebellion. What developed when Dana was seventeen was something different entirely. A survival mechanism with poison inside, snuffing herself out while keeping her alive and sane. She would walk to the gas station and buy packs of Marlboros with coins from her piggy bank. The laws were lax in the 80s, the prices too. She would blow rings of smoke while walking home, then hide the pack in her bra and swish some mouthwash. She’d repeat the process to and from school, steadily acquiring a nasty nicotine habit. It continued until the summer before college, when she made herself go cold turkey so as not to take the habit with her. As far as she knows, neither her parents nor any of her siblings ever knew about it.
It resurfaces in times of stress, though normally for no more than a single pack. Lately she’s accustomed to keeping a pack and a lighter with her at all times. Her building is smoke free so she steps outside, but her car is off limits because she doesn’t want the smell to cling to her. It is a hassle, but then again, so are most things.
Missy knows about the poor eating habits--those are hard to hide from someone who shares the same space as you. Nevermind the fact that the scale shows six less pounds than before, and that adds up when the number’s not that large to begin with. Scully’s edges protrude now...that can’t be hidden.
Missy never says a word. She remembers Dana complaining about their mother’s condescending comments about her weight, and she knows the damage that does to a young psyche. Instead, she offers. Healthy meals, guilty pleasure meals, all her sister’s favorites. She cooks more than she ever has before, well aware that her sister will struggle to refuse her.
“I recognize what you’re doing,” Missy told her sister when she tried to turn away a caesar salad, of all things. “I’ve been known to do that too,” Missy admitted. “Eat. You’re hungry, you just think not eating will give you some form of control over your body, or your life...but wasting yourself away is letting the bastards win.”
And so she did, that time at least. Scully has enough shame regarding her habit to push it aside whenever confronted---that’s how she insists to herself that it’s not an eating disorder. She can stop on command. That makes it okay, right?
Getting back into the office helped her a lot---you can’t starve yourself and function as an FBI agent. Besides, she would dissolve into thin air if Mulder figured out what she was doing. He was the one who batted around the idea of Scully helping prep each case and supervising any tests he might need the crime lab to do while he’s in the field. He understood that in lieu of therapy, she needed something to take her out of her own mind.
It was as much for him as it was her; at this point, it’s almost incomprehensible to him that the X-Files had existed before her. Of course he was the laughingstock of the FBI! He had huddled in the basement by himself with UFOs and blurry Bigfoot sightings pinned on the wall like a shrine to his own delusion.
Her fall from grace was his absolution. He’ll make an angel of her, somehow. Even if it means he has to meet the devil.
Scully has no interest in becoming an angel, though she’d sure like to avoid hell, and that hasn’t worked out too well. Locker room jokes are one thing. Underestimation another. But assault? Rape? Trauma and torture because she is who she is doing what she does? She is not a quitter, and that is killing her.
Her barrenness haunts her because it was bestowed upon her as punishment, an implication that she only has worth as a walking womb. She wants to be seen as a person, not a pawn.
The arrival of the holiday season is another weight on her shoulders. It used to be Scully’s favorite time of year; now the sight of carolers makes her want to poke her eyes out. It’s the first Christmas without her father, and that is simply unimaginable. Her and Missy spent a quiet Thanksgiving with their mother---small portions and whispered thanks--in preparation for an elaborate family Christmas. Bill Jr. and Tara are flying in from California for the annual Christmas dinner and midnight mass. They will all try to move forward, pretend it’s just like any other year, but it’s not and it never will be again. Happy Christmases are over for the Scully family.
And yet, they will try to enjoy the moment. Missy told her mom that she’s bringing a friend, which is completely true. Trinity is her closest friend that she doesn’t share blood with. That said, she plans to use the occasion to introduce Trinity as her girlfriend, come what may.
Then there was the suggestion that their mother made, which caught her youngest daughter completely off guard. “Why don’t you bring Fox?” Margaret Scully proposed demurely during their weekly phone call. “I’m making a zoo’s worth of food, I could use another mouth to feed. I hate to see any of it go to waste.”
“Mulder’s spending Christmas with his family, I’m sure,” Scully had replied. “But I’ll pass along the offer.”
That was how Scully learned that Mulder’s family isn’t much for celebration, that he usually spends the holiday flipping between It’s A Wonderful Life and the 24 hour marathon of A Christmas Story, and that he has a particular fascination with the idea of midnight mass.
“I just don’t get it,” Mulder mused. “You believe that a jolly old man with flying reindeer leaves presents in your house, but you think he waits until after you’ve gotten home from celebrating Baby Jesus’ birthday? Didn’t you ever look for his sleigh in the sky on the drive home?”
“No, Mulder,” Scully sighed. “I just believed that he knew when we were tucked in bed. Santa’s all-seeing, you know,” she teased.
Mulder chuckled. “Kind of presumptuous to assume he functions on your schedule, huh?”
Ultimately, Mulder said yes. He figured attending the Catholic equivalent of Jesus’ birthday party would be another check off his supernatural bucket list, though he did not say this part out loud for fear of Dana Scully’s wrath. Besides, what else was he gonna do on Christmas Eve? Shake the shoebox of junk he stuck under his mini-basketball hoop so he felt like he was getting a gift?
And so the fateful day arrives. Mulder flips his Garfield page-a-day calendar to December 24th, chuckles at the comic strip of the orange cat eating all his owner’s Christmas cookies, and makes his way to his partner’s increasingly familiar doorstep. The sun has already slipped behind the trees by the time he arrives. It gives up easily in the winter.
He rings the bell and hears Scully’s dainty footsteps on the other side. She’s snuck up on him enough times for him to have developed a keen sense of her light footing--no more jump scares for him.
“Hey Scully,” he stammers as she opens the door. She had told him to look “festive,” so he donned his nicest green sweater (a gift from his mom from J. Crew...he had never worn it) and slacks. Scully rounds out their show of holiday spirit with a velvet red blouse and black trousers.
“You look lovely,” Mulder says reflexively, unsure when he started using such a word. Scully pulls at her shirt, obscuring the bit of cleavage that has revealed itself. “Thanks Mulder,” she mutters, ushering him inside.
He holds up the shiny silver gift bag he hastily stuffed with tissue paper. “Some candy canes I picked up at the gas station. I figured the whole family could enjoy them.”
Scully nods, amused by his feeble attempt at gifting. “I’m sure they won’t go to waste.”
A fire crackles in the fireplace. It’s so hot in the apartment that Mulder is surprised it hasn’t melted the snow outside on the sidewalk.
“Where’s Melissa?” he asks, hoping they will hit the road sooner than later.
“She’s picking up her girlfriend from the airport. She couldn’t get an earlier flight.”
“Dulles?” He sure hopes not. It’s all the way across town.
“No, Reagan.”
Whew. Much closer.
“She should be back any minute now,” Scully continues. “Trinity’s flight got in at 3:30.”
Mulder rolls his sleeves up. “So your family doesn’t know about Trinity?”
Scully shakes her head.
“Do they know that Melissa’s…” He gestures, unsure which word to fill the space with.
“Bi? No.”
“So she shows up with Trinity, and then what?”
Scully shrugs. “She introduces her as her girlfriend. Mom already knows Missy is bringing a guest so she’ll have a plate for her.”
“You’re not worried about how the family’s gonna react?”
“Well, I’m sure Bill is gonna be a dick about it, but that’s normal. We only see him once a year, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Bill’s your brother?”
“Uh-huh. And Tara is his wife. They got married about a year and a half ago.”
Even as he pushes into his thirties, it still surprises Mulder that anyone close to his age could be married. He doesn’t even sleep in a bed.
“You think your mom’s gonna be cool with Trinity?” he asks.
“I think she loves her daughter enough to be.”
“Mmm.” Mulder sticks his hands in his pockets. If only he had dilemmas like this. He imagines him and Samantha speculating about their mother’s reaction to Sam’s nose piercing or dyed hair or...anything really. He would give so much to have someone to laugh about his uncle’s sideburns with.
His emotional deep-dive is promptly cut off by the entrance of Melissa and a brunette woman whose bangs graze her eyebrows, her hair falling just below her shoulder. “Hi!” she chirps, taking in the magnificence of Dana Scully. “Dana, I presume?”
Scully nods.
“May I hug you?” Trinity asks, hazel eyes shining.
“Sure,” Scully says, feeling the brisk air against Trinity’s coat as she’s pulled in.
Scully lets go first, and Trinity takes that as a cue to pull away. “You look just like Mel, wow,” she remarks, fighting the urge to run her fingers through Scully’s hair.
Scully smiles softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it is,” Trinity assures, exchanging a gooey gaze with Missy. Next, her attention falls upon Mulder, who does an awkward half-wave. “Hello!” She points between Mulder and Scully. “Boyfriend?”
Mulder chokes. Scully picks up his slack--”Oh, no. This is Fox Mulder, my partner at the FBI.”
“Ahh,” Trinity smiles knowingly. “Yes, I’ve heard about you. I didn’t know you would be joining us for Christmas.”
“Christmas is not exactly my family’s cup of tea, so I figured I’d get an authentic experience with the Scullys.”
“Same! I’m looking forward to Mama Scully’s ginger snaps. I’ve heard fantastic things about them.”
Mulder elbows his partner playfully. “Damn, Scully! How could you leave me in the dark about ginger snaps?”
Scully rolls her eyes but smiles. “I apologize, Mulder. Though for the record, the fruitcake is better.”
“Says no one, ever,” Mulder teases.
She grins. Now this is Christmas.
---------------------
Taking a seat at Margaret Scully’s dinner table feels like existing inside a Christmas movie, in Mulder’s mind. Fancy china, green and red serving platters, paper mache snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, and a porcelain nativity scene; the dining room has it all. Not to mention the heaping piles of food there for the taking...if this is Christmas, Mulder wants in every year.
Scully does not share his cinematic fantasy. She knows better, having actually attended one of her family’s dinners before. Bill will get too drunk and start saying whatever comes to mind, their mother will laugh along like he’s still a five year old babbling about nothing (as opposed to the thirty-something spewing bullshit that he actually is), Missy will attempt to debate him to get him to shut up (which never works), and she will sit there and wish to be somewhere, anywhere else. And all without their father to hold the reins and keep a fight from breaking out.
The night has gone smoothly enough, Scully supposes. Missy introduced Trinity as her girlfriend in a very non-ceremonial way, forcing Bill and their mother to nod and accept it, in the moment at least. Mulder received a hug from Margaret and a pat on the shoulder from Bill, so pretty much the highest token of approval. Mulder’s candy canes earned a place in the center of the dessert table, which gave him way more satisfaction than it should have, and he couldn’t help but feel that if they were to vote on favorite man at the party, he would win. A room with Bill Jr. in it is probably the only place he would ever earn this honor, and he’ll take that.
Yet everything unwinds as Scully suspected. Bill waits until everyone has packed plates and full mouths to unleash his particular hyperfixation for the night.
“Trinity?” he questions, raising his fork diagonal across the table toward her. “Is that your name?”
Trinity smiles and nods, oblivious to what she’s in for.
“And you know Melissa how…?”
She pats a napkin to her mouth. “We worked at the same restaurant in Oregon.”
He chuckles gruffly. “What was it, one of those gay bar things?”
“No, an Italian bistro,” Trinity continues calmly.
Missy, however, is not so calm. “Gay people can go places other than gay bars,” she retorts. “We’re not segregated. Though I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Bill sets a fist on the table, clanging his silverware. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Why the hell do you insist on being so politically correct all the time? I’d shoot myself.”
“Gee, maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Now Melissa…” Margaret Scully’s voice rises above the clamor.
“I have the right to defend my girlfriend and I against Bill’s thinly disguised homophobia,” Missy responds.
“You act like I give a damn what you and your friend do,” Bill sneers. “That’s not my business.”
“Then stop pretending like it is.”
“Oh boo-hoo, little Missy thinks the world revolves around her.”
“Bill, honey, I think that’s enough,” Tara says, laying a protective hand on his arm.
“You’re right.” He raises his can of beer toward Mulder. “Whaddya doin here, hot shot? Trying to seduce my sister?”
Scully frowns, but doesn’t say anything, pushing food around on her plate.
Mulder seems rather unbothered by Bill’s advances. He chuckles. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”
Bill snorts. “That’s a likely story.”
“You don’t think I’m worth your sister’s time?”
“I don’t think Dana thinks you're worth her time. You’re not her type.”
“I am sitting right here, you know,” Scully says, staring daggers at her brother.
“Then tell us Dana! Is hot shot here your type?”
Her eyes brush Mulder’s face. His cheeks flush, reddening like a stormy sunset. She wishes she could read his mind. The safe answer and the true answer are not often the same. “I think Mulder is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to know him,” she answers stiffly, her annoyance aimed at Bill.
“Oh, the old run-around!” Bill scraps his fork against his plate. ”Typical.”
Scully grabs her now empty canned cocktail and sulks into the kitchen, leaving her chair pushed away from the table. Everyone watches her go, but Bill gives off the only visible reaction. He laughs. “Scared her away. Thought it would take more.”
Mulder and Melissa exchange a glance. She nods, granting him permission to play knight-in-shining-armor. Quietly, Mulder slips out of his chair and pushes it back into place. He catches the kitchen door as it swings closed behind his partner.
Her anger concealed from the rest of the family, Scully drops her can in the recycling bin with a bang. She ignores Mulder, instead opening the refrigerator and pulling out another cocktail, saying nothing.
“What is this, your fifth drink?” Mulder brushes his hand over her shoulder, and she recoils. “Leave me alone, Mulder.” She slams the fridge and tries to turn around, but he’s cornered her.
“C’mon Scully, Bill’s harmless. He doesn’t bother me.”
“It’s not fucking about Bill,” she fumes, alcohol fizzing through her bloodstream. She inhales, trying to keep it together in front of the man who has done nothing wrong to her. “Please get out of my way.”
“What’s wrong?” He frames her shoulders with his hands, creating their own little bubble.
“Don’t touch me!” she growls. Mulder knows as soon as hears it: he will never forget the pure anguish in her voice. As she retreats to the corner, he looks down at his palms, the stovetop that burned her...he would cut them off if he could.
Unfortunately, the commotion attracts the Scully’s like a dog whistle. Bill leads the charge into the kitchen, getting a full view of his sister hunched over by the back door while her partner stands by the fridge like an idiot. “Ooo, a lover’s spat!” he exclaims, only nominally concerned about Dana’s well-being.
“Shut up, Bill,” Missy hisses. To everyone’s relief, he does.
Mrs. Scully comes forward, maneuvering around Mulder to get to her daughter. “Are you alright, Dana?”
Scully keeps her back to the crowd. “I just need a minute.” She taps her pocket, confirms that she slipped her pack of cigarettes in. “I’ll be outside. Everyone can go back to dinner, please.”
She twists the doorknob and steps onto the back deck without waiting for any response. Mulder feels the tug of tears in his throat, like a dormant animal waking up in him. He is used to being hurt (though not by Scully, never her), but inflicting the hurt is a whole other beast. He doesn’t know what he’s done, but he doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, put there by what he thought was a harmless touch, made his heart tremble. He is frozen in place, grateful when Melissa appears at his side as the rest of the party returns to the dining room.
“I didn’t mean to upset her, I was trying to make her feel better about Bill…” he laments.
“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s not you specifically, she’s going through a lot right now--you know.”
Mulder rubs his neck. “I don’t know if I do.”
“She hasn’t shared her diagnosis?”
His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Diagnosis?! Is she okay?”
Missy sighs. “I think you two need to talk. If she gets pissed, tell her I sent you.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Tell me if she’s okay.”
“She’s okay. It’s not fatal or anything.”
“She would tell me, if it was...wouldn’t she?”
Missy bites her lip. “I don’t know, Fox---Mulder. I would hope so, but I was under the impression you already knew about this, and you see how that’s gone.”
Mulder turns toward the back door, desperation living in his voice. “I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta check on her.”
Missy nods. “Don’t let her weasel her way out of this one. I’m expecting a heart-to-heart, mushiness and all.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
He turns the back doorknob and slips through the door, trying to imitate his partner’s ninja skills. The old wood on the door frame shakes as he shuts it. He winces--so much for the sneak attack.
Mulder follows the arc of the deck, winter’s bite colliding with him. He didn’t have a chance to grab his jacket, and now that he’s thinking about it, Scully didn’t either. He can grin and bear it but she is all skin and bones, now more than ever. It scares him to see her like that, but it’s none of his business, he feels, to comment on her body. He can break her fall, but he must not provide an extra push.
The wind has no friends to protect nor foes to defeat, so it will give away anyone. It carries the unmistakable tarnish of smoke to Mulder’s nose, an ashy haze that has come to remind him of Skinner’s office and the shadow lingering in the corner. He almost expects to find him there with his Morleys and his sadistic laugh. Instead, he finds a redhead and her Marlboros shrinking against the December cold snap.
“Bum a cig, ma’am?” He scoots up to her, ready to retrieve his own smoke from her long, slender fingers.
“Mulder!” She pulls the cigarette away from her, holding her last puff captive in her lungs.
He wiggles his fingers like an impatient child. “We’re all gonna die someday, right?”
Her jig up, she rolls her shoulders back and releases the smoke with a great rise and fall of her chest. It mingles in the air with the chill of her breath, becoming one and the same as they leave the contours of her body. Head tilted back and lips parted, she is alive with nicotine’s ease and intoxication’s freedom.
It is better than porn, according to one Fox William Mulder. He’ll keep this observation to himself for now.
“Did your parents never teach you that sharing is caring?” he rambles. “C’mon, give me a light!”
“It’s a nasty habit, Mulder.”
“I’m a connoisseur of those,” he replies loosely. “Now, you’re not gonna make me put you in a headlock are ya?”
Scully rolls her eyes. She’s never felt less threatened in her life. “You’re exhausting, do you know that?”
“I’ve heard it a time or two.”
She pulls a cigarette from her carton and slips it into his fingers. They are warm; hers are ice-cold. “I wanted to be alone.” She hands him the lighter, watches as he generates heat from thin air.
He lights his cig and sticks the lighter in his pocket rather than handing it back to her. “According to my calculations, you should be very drunk right now. Other than your Oscar bait performance back there, you’ve got things pretty under control I’d say.”
Scully gestures at her cigarette smoking, teeth chattering self. “Yeah, I’m the picture of health.”
“Do you have some exceptional alcohol tolerance I should know about, because that’d make you very valuable in undercover work.”
Scully gazes out into the distance. She’d smile if she were to look at him right now, and that doesn’t feel right for the situation. “Those drinks have low alcohol content, Mulder. You can buy them at Dollar General.”
“You ever looked at their hand sanitizer? It’s like 95% alcohol.”
“Well, now I know where you go to get your fix.”
He chuckles. “You got me.”
She stuffs her hands in her pockets and he wishes, god he wishes, that he had grabbed his jacket. He’d take off his sweater if she wanted him to--stand there with his bare chest to the cold--but he has a feeling that would only exacerbate the situation.
He tries a more gentlemanly route. “Do you want me to grab your jacket? I won’t give away your trade secrets.”
She folds herself together. “No, it’s okay. It’ll make me get a move on at some point.”
They stand united in their rebellion, blowing smoke and freezing their asses off. Who needs Christmas cheer when you’ve got Christmas resentment?
Mulder sways a bit to keep his blood circulating. He is careful not to bump her. “You wanna tell me why you’re out-Scrooging Scrooge this year?” he prompts as gently as he can.
“In case you haven’t noticed, it hasn’t exactly been the best year of my life.”
“I gathered that, yeah.”
“And it’s the first Christmas without my father…” her voice warbles.
“Shit, right. I’m sorry,” Mulder murmurs.
“...So it just doesn’t feel very celebratory.” She takes a long drag. Mulder can tell that this secret smoking habit is not new to her, and he wonders when she picked it up, how long she has kept it from him.
He takes a deep breath, watches as it is written in the air. “Melissa told me you received a diagnosis, and I think we’ve already established that sharing is caring…”
Scully looks him in the eyes for the first time since he joined her. It has the sudden intensity of a black-and-white film, Scully the 1940s scarlet and he the leading man who pales in comparison to her. There is no one he’d rather be overshadowed by.
“It’s humiliating,” she croaks. “Missy and my mom are the only ones who know.”
“I’ve got the monopoly on humiliation in this partnership, so I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, flicking some ashes to the ground.
“This is a particular form of humiliation you can’t experience, I’m afraid. Or at least, it wouldn’t impact you the same way.”
“Let’s hear it.”
She sighs. “My abductors removed all of my eggs, causing my menstrual cycle to shut down and me to enter perimenopause.”
His breath catches in his throat. “Jesus christ.”
“Uh-huh.”
He throws his cigarette on the ground and stamps it out, though it could have burned longer. “That’s fucking horrifying, Scully. You’ve got to inform the Bureau. We’ve got to catch these--whatever they are. We’ve got to make them pay.”
“No, Mulder. It’s too much. I don’t want to keep reliving it, I want to be able to move on with my life.”
“How can you move on when they’re still out there, probably doing it to more women?”
She shakes her head, feeling the snag of tears and holding them back for fear they might freeze on her face. “I don’t know, but I can’t think about it like that. It sort of...shatters everything, the idea that this could be a phenomenon happening to other women in secret. I wouldn’t believe it if it didn’t happen to me. I still don’t believe it.”
Mulder shudders. He can’t discern whether it’s from the cold or their conversation. “Do you think it was men who took you? Or do you believe Duane Barry?”
“It seems like a level of monstrosity that only man could achieve. It requires a certain understanding of society, gender roles...dehumanization that only humans could perpetuate.”
Mulder nods. Her reasoning tracks, but the thought of him failing to outsmart humans who stole away his partner is something he cannot fully process. It makes sense that he couldn’t find her if she was in space, but if she was on the face of the Earth, he had no damn excuse.
“You were just gone, Scully...you were just gone.” His aching is so palpable, his voice a cliff’s edge they could both tumble down.
“I know I was.” She takes one last puff, then lets her cigarette fall to the ground. She crushes it with her heel, her force premeditated and brutal. That pain is for the ones who took her, the ones who have obviously never loved a thing at all.
Head bowed, she moves toward the door, but not without grasping for Mulder’s elbow, assuring that he is following behind. He is and he will be, for as long as she lets him.
Inside, the home’s manufactured warmth hits them, unreal in comparison to the cold they have known. The kitchen is as quiet as it was before their ordeal, the dining room empty aside from Mrs. Scully clearing serving platters.
“Where did everyone go?” Scully asks, momentarily alarmed that she may have ruined the entire gathering.
“We’re going to drive around and look at lights before mass. Everyone’s getting ready.”
“Oh.” She looks to Mulder, as if to check that he hasn’t left her stranded. “I think I’ll stay here,” she tells her mother. “Make a cup of hot chocolate and relax for a bit.”
“Well, you’ll be missed. Fox, would you like to join us?”
He takes a leap, hopes he’s got the right idea. “I’ll stay here, but thank you.”
“As you wish,” Mrs. Scully says with a slight smile. Mulder had never noticed her resemblance to her daughter until that moment. It was like looking at a sketch of a famous painting; the lines are there but the colors missing.
Soon enough the crowd leaves and Scully and Mulder settle on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa. Margaret Scully’s tree forms the centerpiece of the living room, and it’s hard not to admire its gold and red decorations and the shiny angel on top.
“That’s gorgeous. Does she do it every year?” Mulder asks, ignoring the steam rising out of his mug and going right in for the kill.
Scully nods. “Every year since we were kids. There used to be a lot more homemade ornaments, but I guess she swapped those for a more elegant look now that we’re grown.”
“Well, it’s beautiful.” He looks at her, curled up with the glow of the fireplace falling upon her, and he feels warmth and safety like never before. It would be so easy to slip in “and so are you,” it is practically begging to be said. But she wouldn’t believe him if he said it now; she would think it was a pity compliment. Instead, he mouths the words, and she is not looking, and that is okay.
She snuggles deeper into the cushions, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander. She is the most at ease she has been in months--here in the house she lived in during high school with the fireplace crackling and her partner by her side--and that’s not what she expected from Christmas Eve. Heaven strokes her skin, and she blinks her eyes open to find Mulder tucking her in with her mother’s microfiber blanket. She smiles her soft Scully smile. “Thank you,” she coos, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket’s embrace.
“You’re welcome,” Mulder whispers into her ear. His fingers tangle in her hair as he pulls her toward him, his lips meeting her temple. She catalogues the feeling for her memory bank: chapped but carrying the hot chocolate’s warmth. She will spend the next while convinced that it was a dream, a fleeting image in the moments before sleep, but she will carry the feeling until she feels it again.
#in true x files fashion it's an angsty christmas with some fluff at the end#just pretend that christmas hasnt passed haha#guest starring: bill jr being a dick#and missy's gf <3#if you continue to follow this I'm literally in love with you thank you#the x-files#only the light fic#txf#txf fic#missy and scully fic#fox mulder#dana scully#melissa scully#mine
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once again i spent hours of my life answering >5000 questions in order to sort almost all of the glee songs ever (there’s 683 songs in the sorter when there’s over 700 on the show) anyway if you wanna see my rankings for those then check it out <3 [also here’s the sorter!]
1 Being Alive 2 Rose's Turn 3 Baby, It's Cold Outside 4 Le Jazz Hot 5 Maybe This Time 6 And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going 7 Come What May 8 To Sir, With Love 9 As If We Never Said Goodbye 10 Valerie 11 Somewhere Only We Know 12 Cough Syrup 13 Teenage Dream 14 Not The Boy Next Door 15 It's Too Late 16 It's My Life / Confessions Part II 17 Start Me Up / Livin' On A Prayer 18 When I Get You Alone 19 The Happening 20 The Boy Is Mine 21 Home 22 Don't You Want Me 23 How Will I Know 24 Bad Romance 25 Not While I'm Around 26 Scream 27 Shake It Out 28 On My Own 29 Hate On Me 30 Bills, Bills, Bills 31 4 Minutes 32 True Colors 33 There Are Worse Things I Could Do 34 Go Your Own Way 35 Jessie's Girl 36 Proud Mary 37 Tongue Tied 38 Last Christmas 39 Somebody Loves You 40 Back To Black 41 Sweet Transvestite 42 For Good 43 At The Ballet 44 Gloria 45 Blame It (On The Alcohol) 46 Like A Prayer 47 So Emotional 48 Misery 49 Nasty / Rhythm Nation 50 Toxic 51 Don't Speak 52 Born This Way 53 Dog Days Are Over 54 Defying Gravity 55 Last Name 56 Womanizer 57 I Will Always Love You 58 Broadway Baby 59 The Lady Is A Tramp 60 I'm A Slave 4 U 61 Centerfold / Hot In Herre 62 Thriller / Heads Will Roll 63 Bust Your Windows 64 Candyman 65 Brave 66 Boys / Boyfriend 67 The Scientist 68 The Scientist (Acapella) 69 Dream On 70 Hey Jude 71 I Lived 72 I'm Still Here 73 I Believe In A Thing Called Love 74 Me Against The Music 75 Like A Virgin 76 My Man 77 Everybody Wants To Rule The World 78 I Have Nothing 79 Blackbird 80 Got To Get You Into My Life 81 Animal 82 3 83 I Follow Rivers 84 Just The Way You Are 85 Constant Craving 86 Don't Stop Me Now 87 Hung Up 88 Let's Have A Kiki 89 Love Shack 90 Marry The Night 91 Hit Me With Your Best Shot / One Way Or Another 92 It's Not Right, But It's Okay 93 I Want To Hold Your Hand 94 All You Need Is Love 95 Getting Married Today 96 Don't Rain On My Parade 97 Don't Stop Believin' (Regionals) 98 We've Got Tonite 99 Smooth Criminal 100 Uptown Girl 101 Sway 102 If I Die Young 103 No One Is Alone 104 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee 105 No Scrubs 106 Mamma Mia 107 Papa Don't Preach 108 Teenage Dream (Acoustic Version) 109 Santa Baby 110 We Found Love 111 Roar 112 She's Not There 113 Spotlight 114 The Way You Look Tonight/You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile 115 Some Nights 116 Rumour Has It / Someone Like You 117 You Make Me Feel So Young 118 You Keep Me Hangin' On 119 I'll Stand By You (Amber) 120 Hand In My Pocket / I Feel The Earth Move 121 Crazy / U Drive Me Crazy 122 Funny Girl 123 Cold Hearted 124 Keep Holding On 125 Bye Bye Bye / I Want It That Way 126 I Know Where I've Been 127 I Kissed A Girl (Season Six) 128 Hopelessly Devoted To You 129 Homeward Bound / Home 130 Into The Groove 131 Hold On 132 Tell Him 133 Nutbush City Limits 134 Because You Loved Me 135 Perfect 136 Cherish / Cherish 137 Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah) 138 Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead 139 You Are The Sunshine Of My Life 140 Tik Tok 141 The Safety Dance 142 Oops!... I Did It Again 143 Run Joey Run 144 Time Warp 145 Something's Coming 146 Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go 147 The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face 148 Vogue 149 Downtown 150 Diva 151 Dancing With Myself 152 Rockstar 153 Wrecking Ball 154 We Are Young 155 I Saw Her Standing There 156 Jumpin', Jumpin' 157 Just Can't Get Enough 158 Take Me To Church 159 Wannabe 160 It's All Over 161 Take Me Home Tonight 162 If I Were A Boy 163 Landslide 164 Pompeii 165 The Bitch Is Back / Dress You Up 166 Christmas Wrapping 167 Buenos Aires 168 Call Me Maybe 169 You Can't Stop The Beat 170 Seasons Of Love 171 Safety Dance 172 Dream A Little Dream 173 Alfie 174 I Want To Break Free 175 Baby One More Time 176 A House Is Not A Home 177 Daydream Believer 178 I Don't Know How To Love Him 179 Hungry Like The Wolf / Rio 180 Suddenly Seymour 181 People 182 Silly Love Songs 183 Love Song 184 Shout It Out Loud 185 Some People 186 One Of Us 187 Sing! 188 Up Up Up 189 Torn 190 Popular 191 This Is The New Year 192 Paradise By The Dashboard Light 193 Let It Snow 194 Let It Be 195 Never Can Say Goodbye 196 Touch A Touch A Touch A Touch Me 197 La Isla Bonita 198 Tightrope 199 My Love Is Your Love 200 Love Is A Battlefield 201 Losing My Religion 202 Total Eclipse Of The Heart 203 This Time 204 I Dreamed A Dream 205 Leaving On A Jet Plane 206 Locked Out Of Heaven 207 Chandelier 208 Girl On Fire 209 Telephone 210 Don't Cry For Me Argentina 211 Human Nature 212 Halo / Walking On Sunshine 213 Anything Goes / Anything You Can Do 214 Make You Feel My Love 215 Stronger 216 Nowadays / Hot Honey Rag 216 Pumpin' Blood 218 Papa Can You Hear Me? 219 Summer Nights 220 Sweet Caroline 221 Superstition 222 We Will Rock You 223 Alone 224 Hello, I Love You 225 Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now) 226 A Hard Day's Night 227 Mine 228 My Prerogative 229 Beauty School Drop Out 230 My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It) 231 Extraordinary Merry Christmas 232 Every Breath You Take 233 Express Yourself 234 Everybody Talks 235 Everytime 236 Marry You 237 Moves Like Jagger / Jumpin' Jack Flash 238 My Favorite Things 239 Santa Claus Is Coming To Town 240 River Deep, Mountain High 241 My Life Would Suck Without You 242 Be Okay 243 Applause 244 Cool 245 All I Want For Christmas Is You 246 American Boy 247 Cell Block Tango 248 Breakaway 249 Don't Dream It's Over 250 Let Me Love You (Until You Learn To Love Yourself) 251 Whatever Happened To Saturday Night? 252 Without You 253 Science Fiction Double Feature 254 Loser Like Me 255 I Kissed A Girl 256 I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You 257 I Can't Go For That (No Can Do) / You Make My Dreams 258 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 5) 259 Empire State Of Mind 260 Old Time Rock & Roll / Danger Zone 261 Take My Breath Away 262 You Get What You Give 263 Take On Me 264 Beautiful 265 It's Time 266 ABC 267 Afternoon Delight 268 Don't Stand So Close To Me / Young Girl 269 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 1) 270 Colorblind 271 Cool Kids 272 Dancing Queen 273 Songbird 274 Somebody That I Used To Know 275 Singing In The Rain / Umbrella 276 I Feel Pretty / Unpretty 277 Borderline / Open Your Heart 278 In My Life 279 I'm Still Standing 280 Blow Me (One Last Kiss) 281 Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? 282 Do They Know It's Christmas? 283 Mustang Sally 284 Pinball Wizard 285 Anything Could Happen 286 America 287 Any Way You Want It 288 Higher Ground 289 Flashdance... What A Feeling 290 My Life 291 Let It Go 292 If I Can't Have You 293 L-O-V-E 294 Closer 295 Addicted To Love 296 Heroes 297 A Boy Like That 298 Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend / Material Girl 299 Holding Out For A Hero 300 Dinosaur 301 Disco Inferno 302 Party All The Time 303 Raise Your Glass 304 Push It 305 Lean On Me 306 Pure Imagination 307 Lovefool 308 Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' 309 Americano / Dance Again 310 All Of Me 311 At Last 312 Promises, Promises 313 Hair / Crazy In Love 314 Happy Xmas (War Is Over) 315 Chasing Pavements 316 Don't You (Forget About Me) 317 Love Child 318 School's Out 319 Poker Face 320 Boogie Shoes 321 Bootylicious 322 I Love New York / New York, New York 323 One Less Bell To Answer 324 Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours 325 Rehab 326 I Don't Want To Know 327 Shout 328 I'm The Greatest Star 329 I Love It 330 Never Say Never 331 Juke Box Hero 332 One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer 333 Glad You Came 334 For Once In My Life 335 Here Comes The Sun 336 Baby It's You 337 Drive My Car 338 Last Friday Night 339 Roots Before Branches 340 The Only Exception 341 Survivor / I Will Survive 342 All Or Nothing 343 Time After Time 344 You're The One That I Want 345 Yeah! 346 Starships 347 You've Got To Hide Your Love Away 348 Story Of My Life 349 Something 350 We Need A Little Christmas 351 Gold Digger 352 Beth 353 Fighter 354 Forget You 355 How To Be A Heartbreaker 356 Get Back 357 Love You Like A Love Song 358 There's A Light (Over At The Frankenstein Place) 359 We Got The Beat 360 Make 'Em Laugh 361 Sing 362 U Can't Touch This 363 Try A Little Tenderness 364 Pony 365 On Our Way 366 Lucky Star 367 Loser 368 Over The Rainbow 369 Outcast 370 Stop! In The Name Of Love / Free Your Mind 371 What Makes You Beautiful 372 Will You Love Me Tomorrow / Head Over Feet 373 Wide Awake 374 Wishin' And Hoping 375 Yesterday 376 Out Here On My Own 377 You're All The World To Me 378 Somethin' Stupid 379 Someday We'll Be Together 380 River 381 The Longest Time 382 Somebody To Love 383 The Edge Of Glory 384 The Most Wonderful Day Of The Year 385 Lucky 386 Memory 387 Mary's Boy Child 388 Longest Time 389 My Dark Side 390 Taking Chances 391 The First Noël 392 Smile 393 Celebrity Skin 394 All That Jazz 395 A Thousand Years 396 Big Girls Don't Cry 397 Ain't No Way 398 Don't Sleep In The Subway 399 Doo Wop (That Thing) 400 Don't Stop 401 Uptight (Everything's Alright) 402 New York State Of Mind 403 Turning Tables 404 Vacation 405 Fire 406 Hold It Against Me 407 I've Gotta Be Me 408 Endless Love 409 Run The World (Girls) 410 Saving All My Love For You 411 Give Up The Funk 412 I Am Changing 413 I Melt With You 414 I Could Have Danced All Night 415 Fat Bottomed Girls 416 Hot For Teacher 417 Never Going Back Again 418 Imagine 419 Jolene 420 Arthur's Theme 421 Damn It, Janet 422 Control 423 Barracuda 424 Copacabana 425 Barely Breathing 426 I Look To You 427 Come Sail Away 428 Jump 429 Clarity 430 Friday I'm In Love 431 Jar Of Hearts 432 It's Not Unusual 433 Footloose 434 Here Comes Santa Claus 435 Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy 436 Help! 437 Greased Lightning 438 Hell To The No 439 All Out Of Love 440 (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman 441 Candles 442 All By Myself 443 Hello Goodbye 444 It's A Man's Man's Man's World 445 I Say A Little Prayer 446 It Must Have Been Love 447 Just Give Me A Reason 448 Come See About Me 449 Born To Hand Jive 450 I Want To Know What Love Is 451 I Wish 452 I'll Remember 453 Get It Right 454 (I've Had) The Time Of My Life 455 I'll Stand By You (Cory) 456 Forever Young 457 A Change Would Do You Good 458 Smile (Charlie Chaplin song) 459 Best Day Of My Life 460 An Innocent Man 461 Dreams 462 All About That Bass 463 Home (originally by Michael Bublé) 464 Black Or White 465 Baby 466 Bad 467 Problem 468 Oh Chanukah 469 What Kind Of Fool 470 Wings 471 You're My Best Friend 472 You're All I Need To Get By 473 White Christmas 474 Whenever I Call You Friend 475 Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' 476 What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger) 477 Wedding Bell Blues 478 More Than A Feeling 479 More Than A Woman 480 Our Day Will Come 481 P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) 482 Here's To Us 483 Honesty 484 Hall Of Fame 485 It's All Coming Back To Me Now 486 Teach Your Children 487 Night Fever 488 What The World Needs Now 489 Listen 490 Let Me Love You 491 Live While We're Young 492 Light Up The World 493 Trouty Mouth 494 Werewolves Of London 495 Kiss 496 Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 497 Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) 498 Mickey 499 Mean 500 Mercy 501 Merry Christmas Darling 502 Let's Wait Awhile 503 Man In The Mirror 504 Rather Be 505 Rise 506 Good Vibrations 507 Faithfully 508 Firework 509 How Deep Is Your Love 510 Fix You 511 Fire And Rain 512 Give Your Heart A Break 513 Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree 514 Little Girls 515 Cry 516 Bust A Move 517 Bridge Over Troubled Water 518 Bring Him Home 519 Cheek To Cheek 520 Break Free 521 As Long As You're There 522 Big Ass Heart 523 Bitch 524 Bamboleo / Hero 525 Away In A Manger 526 Deck The Rooftop 527 Christmas Eve With You 528 Angels We Have Heard On High 529 Creep 530 Crush 531 Make No Mistake, She's Mine 532 Lose My Breath 533 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee (Reprise) 534 What I Did For Love 535 Wake Me Up 536 Thousand Miles 537 Take A Bow 538 Still Got Tonight 539 The Music Of The Night 540 Stereo Hearts 541 The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late) 542 Take Me Or Leave Me 543 I'm The Only One 544 Isn't She Lovely 545 I Just Can't Stop Loving You 546 I'll Never Fall In Love Again 547 Unchained Melody 548 You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch 549 You Have More Friends Than You Know 550 You Should Be Dancing 551 I'm His Child 552 You Learn / You've Got A Friend 553 Somewhere 554 So Far Away 555 Uptown Funk 556 The Winner Takes It All 557 They Long To Be Close To You 558 Tonight 559 Being Good Isn't Good Enough 560 You May Be Right 561 To Love You More 562 Don't Wanna Lose You 563 Do You Hear What I Hear? 564 Ice Ice Baby 565 Don't Go Breaking My Heart 566 Don't Make Me Over 567 I Won't Give Up 568 I'll Be Home For Christmas 569 I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For 570 I Still Believe / Super Bass 571 I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) 572 I Want You Back 573 Father Figure 574 Everybody Hurts 574 Gangnam Style 576 We Are The Champions 577 Stayin' Alive 578 Superman 579 The Rose 580 Don't Stop Believin' (Rachel) 581 Fly / I Believe I Can Fly 582 Gives You Hell 583 I Love L.A. 584 Mr. Roboto / Counting Stars 585 O Holy Night 586 Only The Good Die Young 587 One 588 Silent Night 589 Piano Man 590 Sexy And I Know It 591 Sgt. Pepper's Lonley Hearts Club Band 592 Pretending 593 Physical 594 Danny's Song 595 Stand 596 The Final Countdown 597 You Can't Always Get What You Want 598 You Are Woman, I Am Man 599 You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' 600 Your Song 601 Say 602 No Air 603 Need You Now 604 No Surrender 605 Piece Of My Heart 606 Thong Song 607 Blurred Lines 608 Another One Bites The Dust 609 I Was Here 610 Bella Notte 611 I Know What Boys Like 612 God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 613 Glory Days 614 Friday 615 More Than Words 616 Waiting For A Girl Like You 617 Welcome Christmas 618 You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) 619 You Give Love A Bad Name 620 We Built This City 621 Whistle 622 Who Are You Now? 623 You And I / You And I 624 Take Care Of Yourself 625 Tell Me Something Good 626 The Rain In Spain 627 Can't Fight This Feeling 628 Jingle Bell Rock 629 In Your Eyes 630 Hello 631 Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) 632 I Only Have Eyes For You 633 Jingle Bells 634 Joy To The World 635 I Wanna Sex You Up 636 Fight For Your Right (To Party) 637 Feliz Navidad 638 I'm So Excited 639 Uninvited 640 The Living Years 641 The Fox (What Does The Fox Say?) 642 O Christmas Tree 643 One Love (People Get Ready) 644 Ohio 645 Only Child 646 Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love 647 My Sharona 648 Dance The Night Away 649 Poison 650 My Cup 651 Not The End 652 What It Feels Like For A Girl 653 Listen To Your Heart 654 Little Drummer Boy 655 One Hand, One Heart 656 Bein' Green 657 Big Spender 658 Billionaire 659 Ben 660 Gimme More 661 Burning Up 662 Hey Ya! 663 Hey, Soul Sister 664 Baby Got Back 665 Blue Christmas 666 Bohemian Rhapsody 667 Far From Over 668 The Trolley Song 669 Starlight Express 670 Whip It 671 You're The Top 672 Red Solo Cup 673 Next To Me 674 Rolling In The Deep 675 Rainbow Connection 676 La Cucaracha 677 (You're) Having My Baby 678 A Little Less Conversation 679 Happy 680 Highway To Hell 681 Same Love 682 Rock Lobster 683 Girls Just Want To Have Fun
#glee#glee song ranking#ranking#my thoughts#mine#umm so funny story#well first of all some of the mash ups werent even together#like anyway you want it and lovin touchin squeezin#they were listed as their own songs#i thought they'd end up being closer but they arent and thats hilarious#also there's the scientist and then the scientist acoustic?? idk what that is#but they're close together#umm home by michael bubbles#it did not tell me what the song was#it literally said (michael buble version) or something#and i did not think to look it up until after my results#sooo... if i knew it was a rory song it would not be that high lmao#anyway as you can see it is a bit of a mess#but my top ten is really solid again<3#oh also there was only one 'just the way you are'#so i chose to pretend it was the s5 version which is why its higher#than if i were pretending it were the s2 version
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Champion Part 10
Jungkook x Reader
Racecar driver / street racer au
Genre: Romance, slow-burn, suspense(?), fluff, slightly smutty later on in the story
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
Synopsis: You might have gotten your start on the street, but you’ve always had bigger plans. With a new sponsor backing you, you’re all set to work your way up in the motorsport world and make it big.Your dream is to take down Jeon Jungkook, who is currently one of the best drivers in the sport. He doesn’t quite know how he feels about this rookie winning all the races and getting all the attention, but it reminds him why he’s racing in the first place–to be nothing but the best, and leave everyone else in the dust.Things get complicated when he falls head over heels for the competition.
...
The strategy was set, everything planned out as much as possible, and it was looking like you were doomed to lose. You were starting near the back, and the whole team’s morale was low because of it. The garage was unusually silent, lacking the chit-chat that had become the norm before a race. No one was smiling, or even making eye contact if they could avoid it.
“Is everything okay?” You asked Jimin after pulling him aside. You had accepted your probable defeat that morning, knowing that you’d have to pull off the impossible to stay with the team after today. Starting at the back wasn’t exactly an ideal situation. If you came in last after drawing so much attention to this race and your supposed rivalry with Jungkook, you’d make the whole team look like a joke and Hoseok wouldn’t have any choice other than to drop you.
But you weren’t expecting the rest of the team to be so down about it.
Jimin grimaced, shrugging. “Hoseok’s been in a shit mood all morning, I’m surprised he hasn’t been onto you like he has us. I’d avoid him if you can.”
It turned out that that wasn’t hard to do at all. Hoseok was everywhere that you weren’t. He talked to the press, he chatted with other teams, and never sought you out. It wasn’t hard to figure out why; he simply had no hope for the race, and if you weren’t winning for the team, there was no reason for him to be there.
That wasn’t going to stop you from giving it your all, though. You were convinced that there was still a chance you could come out of this okay. Then, as if the sky was taking pity on you, it started to rain.
You were in one of the trailers that were set up as your team’s offices stretching when it started, the pitter-patter on the roof increasingly loud and steady. You zipped your jumpsuit quickly and after a moment's hesitation grabbed your helmet. You left your visor up once outside so you could feel the rain on at least a small part of your face.
You smiled for the first time that day, closing your eyes and tilting your head up to the sky. You were good in the rain.
This changed everything, making the pavement unpredictable and forcing drivers to rely entirely on their instincts. And it might just be the miracle you needed.
The rain stopped abruptly on your face, and you opened your eyes to see the inside of a blue umbrella over you. It took you a split second to remember that your visor was up, just long enough for you to make eye contact with the holder of said umbrella--Jungkook. You slammed it down, and braced yourself for the worst.
“What are you doing out here?” He looked like he couldn’t stand still, hopping from one foot to the other. His suit was only done up to his waist, the top half hanging limp. He should have been cold with just his undershirt covering his torso, but he didn’t seem bothered.
You said nothing, still unsure if he had recognized you.
“Shouldn’t you be warming up? Talking to your engineer?” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe standing weirdly and looking at the sky like you’re in an 80’s music video is the way you get in the zone?”
You shook your head and reached for your notepad, but quickly realized that you’d left it in the trailer.
Jungkook must have noticed your fumbling and waved a hand for you to stop. “We both already know it’s the 80’s music video, there’s no need to answer.” A hint of a grin started to pull at his mouth despite his best efforts, and he quickly changed the subject. “Look, I came to find you because Seokjin said you might have something you needed to say to me?”
You started to shake your head, then paused. Was Seokjin trying to give you a hint that you should tell Jungkook now? Surely not. There was too much of a chance that it would throw off Jungkook’s race. Even though a large part of you was sure that now could be the last opportunity to tell him if you wanted to salvage your relationship, there was simply too much at stake.
“He must have just meant that you were going to wish me luck,” Jungkook concluded, though he didn’t seem too sure of it himself. “In that case, thanks, but I don’t need luck. You’re the one who needs it, and I’m not going to wish you any because that’s not what rivals do.” Jungkook smiled. “Which you would know if you weren’t such a rookie. You could learn a thing or two from me, you know.”
You had to bite your tongue not to shoot back a smart remark.
The race was a disaster for the majority of drivers. One thing after another kept going wrong for your opposing teams, and the smallest wrong move sent your rivals hurtling off the track.
Even you lost it for a moment, a rear tire locking up and sending you into a spin. Luckily, the only real damage was to your tires, and you were able to defend your position.
You fought your way up to fourth nearing the end of the race. Jungkook was in second, and looked like he was having trouble with his tires.
You couldn’t see exactly what happened going around the next corner--who had made the mistake or who ran into who first. All you knew was the two leading cars had collided, scattering debris across the track and into the oncoming traffic. You hit something--or perhaps it hit you, technically--that did considerable damage to the front of your car. But you could drive it enough to keep up with the safety car that was sent out on track, which was all that mattered at that point.
The car in front of you wasn’t as lucky, having punctured a tire in the chaos and having no choice but to pit.
Which left you in first.
“Well done,” Taehyung said over the radio, sounding as though he was trying very hard to stay professional but couldn’t quite contain his excitement. “Two more laps to go, the race is yours.”
“Is everyone alright?” You asked, though you knew it was unlikely Taehyung would know.
“They would’ve stopped the race if it was anything life-threatening,” Was all he responded with.
You didn’t have a chance directly after the race to check in with anyone. Camera’s flashed, and it felt like a million people were trying to talk to you all at the same time. Yet, it was Yoongi’s voice that stood out when paired with a devilish smile he asked, “How does it feel to win literally just because you didn’t crash?”
You were glad your helmet hid the glare you sent him.
Pushing past all of the random people who stood in your way, you made your way to your team's miniature headquarters for the weekend.
You were soaked, cold, and angry.
The race ended behind a safety car. It hardly felt like a victory. Yoongi was right; you didn’t win, you just managed to stay on the damn track.
You pulled your helmet off as soon as the door was shut behind you, only for it to be thrown open a moment later by Hoseok.
“What are you doing?” He asked incredulously. “You’re supposed to be out there accepting handshakes and talking–er, writing–to journalists about what just happened. You won a race that Jungkook was in, and you’re–you’re–” He waved his hands around vaguely. “You’re acting like you lost!”
“You call that a win?” You scoffed quietly, undoing the top of your jumpsuit to let it hang around your waist. Hoseok’s frown deepened, but he said nothing. “Was anyone seriously hurt in the crash? Taehyung didn’t sound too sure over the radio.”
Your manager sighed, leaning against the wall next to the door with his arms folded. “From what I’ve heard, it’s nothing serious. Mostly just some minor cuts and bruises. I overheard someone say Jeon got a concussion, but he must be feeling okay if he’s up to texting you every five minutes.“
You paused your frustrated pacing to turn to Hoseok.
"You looked at my texts?”
“Only the lock screen,” He replied mildly. “You must have dropped it in the garage earlier today, Taehyung found it.” He pulled it from his jacket pocket and held it out.
Silence hung in the air while you glanced through the texts Jungkook had sent.
[Jungkook 2:45pm] That doesn’t count as me losing just fyi! It was bad luck
[Jungkook 3:01pm] Y/n tell me ur not planning a party
[Jungkook 3:02pm] Y/n
[Jungkook 3:04pm] dude
[Jungkook 3:04pm] i didn’t lose. I DNF’d. Doesn’t count.
[Jungkook 3:05pm] am i at least invited to the celebration of someone who supposedly beat me? I expect an open bar.
It was nearly four, now. You felt a pang of guilt as though you had been ignoring him. There was no way you could have replied to his texts sooner, but he didn’t know that. You answered with a short “Are you ok?”
“I thought we talked about you two being all buddy-buddy?” Hoseok cleared his throat pointedly. “But you don’t listen to much of what I say, do you?"
“Hoseok–”
“Forget it,” He didn’t bother to stick around to listen to your excuses, slamming the trailer door behind himself.
[Jungkook 4:09pm] yeah I’m good.
[Jungkook 4:09pm] doc says i just need to take it easy. Seojin’s a little freaked out which is pretty funny. his eye has been twitching for the last hr.
[Jungkook 4:13pm] so are we partying or what?
You chuckled, shaking your head at your phone. Jungkook really was something else.
[You 4:14pm] Nah not really feeling up to it. Rain check?
You needed to make things right with Hoseok, which meant going back out there and making an appearance for the press.
After zipping your jumpsuit back up and securing your helmet, you stepped back outside. Yoongi was doing some kind of live show directly in front of your trailer, and he spotted you before you could change your mind and run away again.
“…And what a perfect coincidence that you’re here!” He said as he caught your arm and pulled you lightly into the shot. You didn’t bother trying to get away. This was what Hoseok wanted, for you to stand there and let people talk at you. “We were just discussing your incredible dumb luck.”
You had a long day ahead of you.
Before you left, you’d satisfied every journalist, signed hats, and taken pictures with what felt like half of the people in the paddock. Hoseok hadn’t been any help whatsoever, leaving without a word after an hour. When you finally dragged your feet into your house, you wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep.
But Hoseok’s sleek mercedes-benz was parked in front, and something told you he wasn’t there to talk to Jimin.
Cold food was left on the stove as though it’d been forgotten about, along with an untouched bowl on the table.
You found Jimin and Hoseok in the living room, with Jimin chewing his nails and avoiding looking directly at Hoseok.
“What’s up?” You asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “You disappeared on me today.”
Hoseok’s eyes slid from where he’d been glaring at his phone over to you slowly. “You’re suspended,” He said lowly.
“I’ll leave you two to discuss,” Jimin said abruptly, standing to leave. He patted your arm on his way out. You couldn’t blame him for wanting out of the situation, but part of you wanted to make him stay so you wouldn’t have to face Hoseok alone.
“I don’t understand,” You made your way over to sit across from Hoseok. “I won today. I interacted with reporters, I was social–”
“When, exactly, were you going to tell me about the Coldwater situation?” He interrupted, his voice ice cold.
You felt like the floor had dropped from under you. “I can explain,” You started. “Please, let me explain.”
“Jimin already tried arguing the whole blackmailed story,” Hoseok replied flatly. “What I don’t get is why you decided not to tell me, if it’s true. I might’ve been able to help. Or we could have come up with a plan to reveal your identity earlier than we had originally thought. We could have figured something out. But now…” He dragged a hand over his face. He looked tired, haggered, as though this one conversation had taken every bit of energy out of him.
“I thought I could handle it,” The words felt hollow as you said them.
“No,” Hoseok shook his head. “You thought you could get away with it. There’s a difference.” You weren’t sure how to respond to that. “I’m indefinitely suspending you from the team.”
You could feel panic rising, and you tried to take a breath to calm yourself. “No. I made a mistake, and I’m so, so sorry. But I’ll make it up to you. I won today, I’m good for the team.
Hoseok’s expression didn’t change. “The only reason I’m not terminating the contract right now is because you just won.” He shook his head. “When we met, I told you my conditions were honesty, and no more illegal activity. I needed to know I could trust you, above anything else. And clearly, I can’t.” He shrugged, standing from the couch. He suddenly didn’t even seem angry anymore, just disappointed and resigned. “I’ll let you know when I decide what further action I’ll be taking. Don’t bother to show up for practice on Monday.”
After Hoseok was gone, you stood slowly, hardly even aware of what you were doing.
“Y/n…” Jimin hovered in the doorway, looking as lost as you felt. “He’ll come around.”
“I’m going for a drive,” You muttered, stepping past him.
“Y/n,” He tried again. “Give it some time. Think about it from Hoseok’s perspective, it’s a lot to take in. But he’ll understand once he has a chance to think it all over.”
But you could tell from his tone he was just as scared of the future as you were.
You didn’t plan to drive to Jungkook’s house. You got on the highway on autopilot, and went wherever felt right until you found yourself only a block away. Even then, you weren’t planning to see him until you realized it would be creepy to have driven all the way there only to sit in your car across the street. His lights were on, so you knocked once, twice. Just when you were about to call it a night and leave, he opened the door.
“Hey…” Jungkook paused, as though waiting for you to explain. “I wasn’t expecting… Did you text?” He glanced at his phone as he spoke to check it. He looked sleepy, and you wondered if you’d woken him up. Above his right temple was a bruised cut with two stitches.
“No,” You shook your head, suddenly feeling like you should have just sat in your car and been weird. “I just…Sorry, it’s late. I should go.”
Jungkook blinked owlishly at you. “It is late. You should stay.” He stepped out of the way for you to come in, then waved for you to follow him. He stretched and yawned loudly as he went. "There’s leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
Jungkook had apparently been half-trying to play a zombie apocalypse video game, too tired to get past the level but too awake to sleep. You could relate to that feeling; you yourself were exhausted, both mentally and physically, but you knew if you tried to sleep now you’d lay staring at the ceiling until morning. He switched the game to multiplayer and tossed you a controller before asking; “Is everything alright?”
You focused on the game for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer. “Not really. But I’d rather not think about it.”
Jungkook frowned slightly, but let it drop for the moment. You were sitting on his bed side by side in front of the slightly ridiculously large screen on his wall. "I watched the playback of the crash,” You noted as Jungkook’s avatar fell off the rooftop only to respawn a moment later. “It looked pretty bad. Are you really okay?”
“You didn’t see it live?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow teasingly, but you suspected it was a genuine question.
“I missed it in all the commotion,” This, at least, was true. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Jungkook smirked. “Did you come over because you were worried about me?”
“I was worried,“ You admitted. "But no, that’s not the only reason.” You were trying to be more honest with him, even if you didn’t much like it.
Jungkook sighed and leaned back on the pillows, ignoring the game completely now. “I’ll be fine. The doctor said I could go home, so…” He shrugged. “My reserve driver will have to drive in my place for a race or two, but I’ll be back to a hundred percent by the rematch.”
“Rematch?” You repeated, now setting down your own controller to look at him.
Jungkook nodded as though it was obvious. “I didn’t win today. But,” He held a finger up. “There’s no way 52 is satisfied with the result either. We need to race one on one to settle this.”
“Jungkook…” You started, not sure yet where you were going with this. As the situation currently stood, it didn’t look likely that you’d be able to race him a second time–or anyone else, for that matter. "That… Might be a difficult thing to talk Hoseok into. And anyway, how could you arrange a race with just two teams…?”
Jungkook shrugged, unconcerned. “We could do it for charity. I don’t see any reason why Hoseok wouldn’t agree to it.” He tilted his head to the side. “Unless there’s something I don’t know?”
You shook your head somewhat unconvincingly. There was a mutual understanding between you that, though you joked about the rivalry between Jungkook and ‘52’, actual team politics and strategies were off limits. Up to this point, Jungkook had never asked you who 52 was, what was going on within the team, or what Hoseok’s greater plans were because it would put you in an uncomfortable spot.
“I ran into Hoseok while leaving the paddock,” Jungkook mused. “He seemed pretty angry for a guy whose team just won a race I participated in.”
“You realize how egocentric that last bit made you sound?”
“Is it egocentric if it’s true?” He countered without missing a beat. You hoped he would take the bait and get distracted, but he didn’t fall for it this time. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed how weird he was acting. There’s a rumor he and 52 had some kind of falling out.”
It was easy to forget sometimes just how perceptive Jungkook could be. You couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t an outright lie or would give too much away, so you picked up the game controller again.
“Does that mean it’s true?” He asked. If anything, your silence seemed to have made him more interested.
“Can we just not talk about Hoseok’s driver?” It came out harsher than you intended, and Jungkook looked taken aback. “What difference does it make to you, anyway? It’s not like 52 being stupid and pissing Hoseok off is going to affect you.”
“I thought you liked 52,” Jungkook’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What did he do?”
“Ruined everything,” You muttered. The game wasn’t fun anymore, and this wasn’t the distraction you had hoped it would be. You took a shaky breath and looked down at the controller in your hands rather than at Jungkook. “That fucking asshole 52 ruined everything.”
You were very aware of Jungkook’s gaze on you, and the fact that he could probably tell that you were holding things back.
It was over, you realized. There was no reason for you to continue lying to him about being 52.
“Jungkook, 52 and I--” You closed your eyes. It was like a bandaid, you just needed to rip it off. Except the pain wouldn’t go away after you ripped it. You could lose Jungkook completely, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.
“Did 52 hurt you?” Jungkook interrupted as though he said the words as soon as it occurred to him.
You opened your eyes to look at him. You were so caught up in your own thoughts it took a second to comprehend, and Jungkook took your pause as confirmation.
“If he did, I swear to god, I’ll figure out where the fuckwad lives and--” He was halfway out of bed as he spoke, though you weren’t sure where he thought he was going in his t-shirt and boxers at 3am.
“It’s nothing like that!” You couldn’t help the slight laugh as you caught his arm and pulled him back onto the bed. You knew it shouldn’t be funny, and tried to fix your face into something serious. “You didn’t even let me finish my sentence!”
Jungkook didn’t look entirely convinced, but he settled back down next to you against the pillows.
“52 and I...Aren’t getting along too well right now. Maybe you should ask Hoseok what happened.” You hated that you couldn’t get the words out. But you couldn’t lose Jungkook tonight, too. “Can we talk about something else?”
Jungkook looked anything but satisfied with your response, but shrugged with one shoulder before rolling onto his side so he was facing you, his head propped on his hand. “Sure.”
You scooted closer to him, getting comfortable while you tried to think of how to phrase your next question. “You’ve talked about retiring from racing since we first met,” You started, and Jungkook nodded. “But you’ve never really told me why. I don’t understand why anyone would willingly leave the sport. Especially someone who loves it as much as you do.”
Jungkook chewed his lip for a moment. “I do love the sport,” He agreed, a small smile flickering across his face. “And I think I always will. But it’s not really a part-time thing, you know?”
You shook your head no.
“There are other things I want to do, and I don’t really have time as long as I’m a driver.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do, then?”
Jungkook cleared his throat, glancing away from you. “You’re going to laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
“Jungkook.”
He reluctantly met your eyes once more. “I want to open a lamb skewer restaurant.”
“Well. That’s very specific,” You said, trying very hard not to laugh. It wasn’t that his dream was funny so much as the way he was telling you about it. His ears were red, and he was pouting ever so slightly.
“I knew you’d laugh,” He complained.
“I’m not laughing,” You lied, unable to hold in your giggles. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s just,” You interrupted yourself to catch his lips with your own, one hand traveling up to run through his hair. “You told me yourself that you can’t cook.”
Despite himself, Jungkook grinned back. “I said I want to own the restaurant, not be the chef.” He moved so his legs straddled one of yours, his body tantalizingly close to your own without actually touching you.
“And I suppose you’ll have a wall dedicated to displaying all of your trophies?” You asked. You wanted him closer to you, but he already knew that. You could see it in the glint in his eyes. He wanted you to make the first move.
And just like that, it became an unspoken competition.
“Please,” Jungkook lowered himself just a hair, leaning in as though he was about to kiss you but stopping when his lips barely brushed yours. “I’d need more than just one wall for all of my trophies. And then I wouldn’t have room for the stage.”
“The stage?” You repeated, eyebrows raised. “Why do you need a stage in a lamb skewer restaurant?” One of your hands ghosted up his arm and down his abdomen to pull at the hem of his t-shirt without quite touching him. It ended up bunched around his shoulders, but he didn’t take it off.
“For the live bands,” He smirked, one hand leaving where it had been propped near your head to slowly make its way down your side. You could just barely feel his fingers through your jeans as they traced their way down your thigh and back up painfully slow. “And the stand-up comedians... And open mic nights…” You could see his resolve beginning to melt.
“You’re not really going to have open mic nights, are you?” You teased, then lowered your voice to a whisper. “What if someone covers a nickelback song?”
Jungkook actually snorted at that. “That would be unfortunate. Which is why open mic nights would be a twice-a-year thing, and I’d pre-approve the song list.”
His lips were once more mere centimeters away, just barely out of reach.
“You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” You asked, all joking leaving your voice.
“I have,” He nodded, his hair tickling your forehead as he did so. There was something akin to worry in his eyes, and you reached up to brush his hair away from his face.
“I think your restaurant sounds wonderful,” You assured him, and you noticed an immediate change in his facial expression. Any sign of worry was gone, replaced by a playful glint in his eyes.
“You won’t think I’m boring if I leave the sport?”
“I don’t think it’s possible for you to be boring.”
“So true,” Jungkook leaned forward and finally kissed you slowly. You pulled him closer, reveling in his warmth.
When you pulled away briefly to breath, you couldn’t help but mutter, “I totally just won that, by the way.”
Jungkook laughed, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. “Somehow, I’m okay with that.”
...
A/N Omg thank you for sticking around to read this! Hopefully I'll be updating a little more frequently now. What are your thoughts? Feelings? Let me know! I absolutely love hearing from you guys--your wonderful feedback is what makes this so much fun. Thank you so much for reading! And I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and staying safe. I'm here for you guys! If you ever need an ear to listen, someone to rant to, or anything else, my inbox is always open! I love you all <3
#champion#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagines#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fluff#bts jungkook scenarios#Jungkook Series#jeon jungkook fluff#bts jungkook fanfic#racecar driver au#bts scenarios#bts fluff#bts scenario#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts imagine
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Fujimi Orchestra - Wandering Violinist (Book 2, Part 1)
Author: Akizuki Koh Illustrator: Keiko Nishi (Read Book 1 Here)
Content Warning! 18+ Yaoi/BL/Soft Noncon This volume doesn’t have rape per say, but there are references to what happened in the first volume, so just in case I’m still providing a warning. Nothing is super explicit. Also, if you want to start with this book there is plenty of recap throughout the book to catch you up on characters and situations.
And we’re onto book 2! This book also has two parts, so hopefully I’ll have the second done in the next few weeks. If you want to read on Google Docs: https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSuh6ZZf--fQVn8mkSKkovlnZgIfKcD0vL1dmNRBBo2xVNMPw3EHBpNChs0vW4zq5qymXWQcZsvZmib/pub#ftnt1
Part I : Wandering Violinist
I have no apartment… no roost… not for tonight. I looked around in the hot and humid summer night; I couldn't even mumble because I was completely stunned by the situation. If I had to guess at the statistics, I’d say that the Fujimi-cho neighborhood -- where 80% of the residents live in apartments -- is like a ghost-town every year around this time. This is because there are many brave people who insist that they celebrate the ‘Bon Festival in my hometown,’ undeterred by the hustle and bustle of expensive flight tickets or the hellish rush to return home. It kills two birds with one stone: they make their dutiful family trip, and they don’t have to pay for accommodations when they get there.
Actually, I — Yuuki Morimura — was one of those people. The reason I say ‘was’ is because I had just returned to my dear home-town after a two year absence on one such obligatory trip. I’m 23 years old and a music instructor at a public high school, as well as a violinist and concertmaster of the Fujimi Citizen’s Philharmonic, also known as the ‘Ni-chome Philharmonic’ or just ‘Fujimi.’ I seem to be considered a quiet and serious person because of the glasses I’ve worn since junior high, and often mistaken as younger than my age thanks to my slim body and feminine face (that I’m not so pleased with); I actually think I’m a pretty assertive person. I moved to Tokyo for music school, and then Fujimi-cho, which has become my second home ever since.
Since my mother passed away, Fujimi feels even more like my second home. So as I returned from my three-day ‘homecoming’ trip and smelled the familiar scents of Fujimi, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I arrived before Fujimi’s rehearsal day, just after nine o’clock in the evening. Many of the shops in Fujimi Ginza around the small train station were already closed, each shutter with a sign on the door that said they were closed for tomorrow’s Obon holiday; well, as far as the rest of the country is concerned, tomorrow is the real Obon holiday. I took advantage of the fact that I work at a school with summer vacation to beat the rush of people returning home. This was always my trick that I used in the summer when I would go back home to the country. I would take care of my obligations before the proper Bon Festival and spend the three days when Fujimi-cho was quiet, playing the violin in my empty apartment building. It was the only thing I enjoyed in the summer, as I don’t have any other hobbies.
Now the steel frame of the building was exposed to the sky, and underneath my feet was rubble that seemed to be made from the collapsed walls, along with black trash that must have been furniture. I had entered the alley and turned the corner as usual, and saw the scene that was now in front of me; it was a total loss fire. Both my building and the one on the other side of mine were at least 80% burnt down. I scratched my head and turned to the right. The liquor store on the corner was still open.
“Excuse me, good evening!” A lady came out while using a fan. She looked me up and down and made a sympathetic face. “Ah, the Miyajima apartment building over there burned down yesterday evening, I heard about it on the NHK news,” she said.
“I didn’t hear anything about it, I was back at my parents’ house.”
“Oh, you lived there?” The woman scratched her cauliflower-like permed head with the handle of her fan, probably because she was uncomfortable dealing with a person she didn’t know. “That’s terrible. The fire spread quickly and the firefighters didn’t show up for a while because it was right in the middle of rush hour, you know.”
“Um, did anybody...die?”
“It was a blessing that you weren’t there, the people who were left were burnt to a crisp. They were all dead by the time the firemen got there.”
“I see…”
“I heard it started from tempura oil. Yamamoto-san on the first floor was the origin of the fire. His wife always looked very careless.”
“Ah...Thank you,” the lady seemed like she wanted to keep talking, but I hadn’t recovered enough from the first round of information to keep up with more rumors. I bowed my head and left the store. The only question for now was where I could sleep tonight… I wondered if there were any hotels in this town. I remembered seeing a few love hotels, but as I walked towards the station I realized I needed to find something else: money. I didn’t have any.
I put down my travel bag and violin under the streetlight and checked my wallet. No matter how many times I counted it, there was only 3,000 yen. Naturally I didn’t have much left, since I had given most of my money to my sister when I left my parents’ house. It was only fair since I stayed for three days at the place she was living with four children and a husband on the salary of a civil servant, while also maintaining a large country house and fields. I wanted to be considerate, and also make a small gesture since I was now a salaried employee, so I left her with enough money for a meal. But now…
“The bank won’t be closed even on Bon holidays,” I said to myself. No — tomorrow is Saturday! No, wait, I can still withdraw money, my card is in my wallet. So in the morning I can get money. I picked up my bag and case, which was now all I had to my name, and started walking. Oh yeah, my scores, my CD player, the CDs themselves, my clothes, my wardrobe, my futon, my toaster… all burned. Everything, everything…! I was hit with the sound of an oncoming car and rushed to get out of the way. As I looked at the red glow of the receding tail lights, I thought of the word ‘penniless.’ I have a violin, an ATM card, and a few clothes for the time being, so I’m not completely broke, but I’d be grateful if I could at least talk to Ishida-san, the caretaker of Fujimi, who I know I could rely on. But he’s on his usual week-long summer vacation. His whole family left for Hokkaido in the country on the same day that I left, and of course his coffee shop Mozart is also closed.
There were only two other members of the orchestra who knew where I lived: Natsuko Kawashima, a flutist, and the conductor, Tounoin. I had been in love with Kawashima for three years, even proposed to her, but we finally settled as friends in the orchestra. And Tounoin… well, I thought about going to him. He would be more than willing to let me stay, but that ‘willingness’ was the problem. He was gay, fell in love with me, and raped me — though the rape was an accident, as Tounoin had thought I was also gay and that I wanted to have sex with him. I respect Tounoin as a genius conductor, and I also think he’s a very good man, as he was willing to give up his affections towards me and not bring that kind of trouble into our relationship as musicians.
That’s why… I don’t think I should go to his place to stay. No matter how much help he offers or how strong his willpower is, I don’t want to give him the opportunity to spoil me. He’s a human being too, and you never know when his self-control might slip… I don’t want to ruin the friendship we’ve established. I couldn’t impose on him like that, but I also couldn’t think of anywhere else that would let me stay. The list of Fujimi members and school staff had burned to ash in the fire, and there were a lot of people that I couldn’t remember their full names to look them up in the phone book.
I was flipping through the pages of the city phone book, trying to find a hotel, when I heard the sound of rain. It started raining. Then it was pouring. It seems like bad luck was following me like a bad smell. I took out ten yen from my wallet and picked up the phone.
“Hello, do you have any rooms available? Yes, for tonight. Oh, that’s great. Where are you located?” I thanked them, hung up the phone and wondered out loud, “Yeah, that’s pretty far. The cab fare alone would wipe out all my money. I wonder if they would let me stay without a deposit?”
I heard a noise and looked outside. A soaking wet businessman was waiting, so I opened the phone booth and said, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” and dashed under the eaves of a building to avoid getting wet. I hurriedly wiped the drops of water from my violin case. I decided to wait for the rain to let up and then walk to the hotel; since I only had 3,000 yen I really couldn’t spend it on the cab. But the evening downpour, which I assumed would stop if I waited it out, did not let up even after an hour. I waved my hand at the approaching lights of an empty cab and repeatedly counted the contents of my wallet in my head.
---
After going through 5 other hotels, the sixth hotel receptionist — my last ray of hope in the whole town — was a gentle, motherly woman with a pleasant appearance and tone of voice… “Oh, that’s the thing, isn’t it?”
I said quickly, “I have an ATM card, so if the bank is open tomorrow morning, I promise I can get the money! I know you have a rule that you have to pay in advance, but I won’t cause any trouble!” Needless to say, I’m not very good at this kind of negotiation. But there was nothing else I could do. I was so embarrassed that my forehead broke out in a cold sweat, but I persisted desperately. “I’m begging you. I can’t stay out in the open in this rain!” The woman, who seemed to be going through hardship of her own, looked down with a troubled expression. ‘One more push,’ I thought.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but if there’s any way…”
“Well, let me have your driver’s license.”
“Oh, that’s —“ I was sure that I had finally found a solution. “I don’t have it.”
“You don’t have a driver’s license?” It was heart-wrenching to see her face, which had finally softened somewhat, switch back into cold rejection.
“...my insurance card was burned. But..!” I pulled my ATM card out of my drenched back pocket. “I’ll leave this with you!”
The woman shook her head apologetically. “That doesn’t prove your identity, does it?”
“But if you look up my card number…”
“Can you prove it’s yours?” I was about to open my mouth to argue against her rude suspicion when the sound of rain started up again.
The easy-going face of welcome had turned into a cruel mask when she looked back at me. She said quietly, “Anyway, we don’t accept single guests.” Basically, I was interfering with their business, so get out of here.
“Ah, I see. Thank you.” Apparently this is the way the city is. I thought I could handle the love-hotel atmosphere, but I was naive. I gave the guests that had entered behind me some space so I wouldn’t have to look at them, but it seemed to be an unnecessary precaution.
“Oh, let’s take this room!” I heard the excited girl’s voice behind me as I walked out, not feeling the least bit guilty about being in a love hotel. This was the last of my hotel choices, and I had run out of ideas. I wondered if the heavens had come to regret their cruelty to me, as it was raining lightly when I went outside. But the situation wasn’t any better just because the rain was lighter.
“Police, maybe?” I had heard of something called ‘tiger boxes’ that were used to protect drunks, but I wondered if they would have anything for a lodger like me. ‘It’s all so bad!’ I thought, but that was the only option I could think of at this point. However, the police station was behind the Fujimi train station, which took me 20 minutes to get there by car, and now I had to walk back... “I’ve got 820 yen in my pocket, so I have no other choice.”
The problem was the violin, which could not get wet. I decided to put it in my travel bag, and used my summer jacket as a furoshiki for my overflowing clothes. I walked out into the rain, which was cold on my already soaking body. There was nothing else I could do.
—
“Achoo!” I sneezed, waking up. I was greeted by masculine-smelling air and unnecessary air conditioning. It seemed that I had caught a cold. I put my glasses on and looked at the round clock on the wall; it was barely 7am… I had stumbled into this police station a little after two in the morning, managed to get them to understand my situation, and they let me stay in the dormitory nap room.
“Achoo!” I guess it’s time for me to leave. After all, the air conditioning was too cold in here. I folded the blanket I had borrowed and left the dormitory room. I looked around for the middle-aged policeman that had helped me earlier, but maybe his shift had ended. I turned around and saw a policeman who looked younger than me.
“Oh, you must be Morimura-san.”
“Yes, I was staying here. Thanks to you, I was saved. This is for the person who helped me last night,” I offered him a box of sweets that my sister had given me to take home, “It’s a little wet from the rain, but inside is manju.”
“Oh no, that’s too much.”
“No, I’m really grateful.” As I was saying this, my nose started to itch again. I sneezed and bowed.
The city was already hot and humid, so I was grateful for the chills that were creeping into my body. I bought the cheapest lunch at a convenience store in the middle of the street and headed for the bank. It was 7:24am on August 13th, and in 30 minutes I would be able to say goodbye to the miserable feeling of having just 500 yen in my pocket. But I didn’t know… I didn’t know that today is the day the door of hell would be flung open.
It’s hot… the cicadas are so noisy. And… there was no money. The lack of money I thought I had was extremely shocking, there must have been some mistake. I’m sure it was just some small clerical error, like a paycheck failing to transfer. I did buy a new suit for the school year and paid for it in one lump sum with my bonus, but that should have gone through in July… but the ‘balance of 2,637 yen’ on the statement the cashier spit out was an unquestionable fact from the employee that was working that Saturday. He told me to come back on Monday for more details. The bank book, which was supposed to be a clue to solve my money question, had been reduced to ashes along with my personal seal and ID card. And the only thing that could guarantee that I am Yuuki Morimura was an ATM card, which could be stolen or picked up…
If it had been the bank where Kawashima-san worked, she probably would have taken care of it. Fujimi’s most beautiful flutist, Natsuko Kawashima, who had rejected my desperate proposal, was the type of person who would be strong in an emergency situation like this. But she’s not here, and anyway as a man I couldn’t just go to my girlfriend’s workplace and cry to her. For an hour I was at a loss for what to do, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this, envying the heavens and cursing my fate. Maybe I was stupid to have left with only my violin and a few changes of clothes. But! I had taken proper precautions against fire, and I was only gone for three days. Usually you don’t have to think about the possibility of your apartment burning down in such a short amount of time.
The sun was shining on the benches, and shadows stretched out over the ground. I was craving grilled fish… but what was I supposed to do now, when it’s two more days until Ishida-san comes back? I was able to withdraw 2,000 yen from my credit card, but with a grand total of 2,511 yen it was barely anything. I pulled out the notepad I kept in my pocket. I knew I had only Mozart, Kawashima-san’s house, and the number of the school staff room written down. The school was closed for the Bon holiday and there was no answer on the phone. Kawashima-san was the only one who could help me. But… I said to myself, ‘Is it really worth it to go through all this?’ Of course, I wanted to just wait it out, but if I had to… if I did, I’d have to stay out in the open for two more nights. The policeman last night was kind enough to help me, but the way he acted made it clear that the police were not a hotel, and I was already feeling sick from my search for shelter in the rain. My pride as a man wouldn’t let me rely on Tounoin.
As I soothed my dry throat with lukewarm water from the park fountain, I made up my mind. By the time I found a phone booth, I had sweated out more than I had drunk. I wondered if Kawashima-san would be at work or if she was off? In this case, I could barely spare even ten yen. In a desperate mood, I figured that she would have gone to work, so I looked up the number of her workplace in the Town Pages, which I was grateful to have even if it was in tatters.
The reply on the other end of the line was, “Kawashima-san is off today.”
I took my wallet out again… oh, ten-yen coins, you are valuable after all. I dialed her home number, and the voice that answered was that of a mother.
“I’m Morimura of the Fujimi Philharmonic. Is Natsuko-san at home?”
“Ah, the concertmaster. Thank you for always taking care of my daughter,” said the warm voice. I felt the dark clouds in my chest clear. Thank God.
“Oh, of course. So, where is Natsuko-san?”
“This morning she went scuba diving in Izu with a friend. She’ll be back the night of the 15th.”
I couldn’t remember if I had said a proper greeting when I hung up the phone… as I exited the phone booth I felt that my last hope was gone. I’m finally going to have to live on the street. But… but… what the hell am I supposed to do? I asked myself over and over, and reluctantly arrived at the answer I already knew, the only solution. I have no choice but to go to Tounoin. Go to him… I’ll just borrow some money. As long as I have money I can do whatever I need to do; get a hotel room, ask the principal for a new ID when school resumes after Bon, go to city hall to get a certificate of seal impression, and then take it back to the bank. It’s just a debt, I will owe him a favor, but I can pay him back as much as I borrow.
I walked, keeping my face down from the sun that was beating down on me. I was sweating profusely, yet an inexplicable chill ran down my spine. I put my hand to my forehead, which wasn’t even hot, but I felt like I was having a heat stroke. I need to borrow money to buy some cold medicine...a hotel… a cool room… I should have called Kawashima-san last night instead of trying to be proud and stick it out on my own. But it was so late at night… and either way it was too late now.
—
The Telephone Pole Mansion was silent and open as usual. On the wall opposite of the door to apartment 11 there was a row of mailboxes with numbers from 11-71 on them, and on box 71 was a handwritten name: “Kei Tounoin.” There was an elevator door next to it, and in front of the door an abandoned tricycle with the name ‘Mamiko’ written on it in permanent marker. I pushed the trike aside and pressed the button. I got off at the fifth floor — which was the end of the line — and climbed the remaining two floors, breathing hard. They say only idiots catch colds in the summer, but I felt myself getting more and more sick. But I had to act cool in front of Tounoin. He’ll probably tell me to use his place instead of a hotel, but I don’t want to accept a favor I can’t return. I had rejected him. Actually, he really wasn’t the kind of guy I could borrow money from, either… I finally managed to get to the apartment, and was anticipating getting to change clothes since the ones I had been wearing were soggy from being worn since yesterday. I put my hands in my pockets — I just remembered, I don’t have the key…
I usually have the key to his place. It was the middle of last month when Tounoin offered me his apartment, since mine didn’t allow the practicing of musical instruments and I had no other decent place to practice. At the time, we were still like a rabbit and a wolf, and I was the rabbit running away. I resisted and resisted, not wanting to be lured into the wolf’s house by some kind of trick. But then we developed a proper relationship as friends, and I decided to accept that his offer was out of kindness, not a trick. Since then, I’ve practiced here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night, and Sunday afternoon. I have a duplicate key because Tounoin’s apartment is soundproofed, and he plays music so loud that he doesn’t hear if somebody knocks. He gave me the key so I could come in on my own, but I had left the key in my apartment. On the morning I left, I put it in a bag of rice in the kitchen, along with my personal seal, bank book and other valuables…
He had no doorbell. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I knocked a few more times, then thought to put my ear to the door, but it seemed to be silent behind it. Just to be sure, I looked for a window, but there was not a single window on this side. I went to the edge of the aisle and looked, but no, there was no window on that side either. There was a window across from the door inside… but regardless there was no sign of anybody being in the apartment.
“He’s finally away…” did he go to his parents’ house, or on vacation, or just out shopping? No matter what Tounoin was doing, my situation was simple: I had no other place to go, no other option. As long as I had the key, I could go in; Tounoin wouldn’t mind if I came in when he wasn’t home. It would be much easier to wait in an air-conditioned room, and I would without hesitation, but without a key… it’s metal, so there is a possibility that it didn’t burn up in the fire. But to find it, I would have to go back down the stairs and walk for twenty minutes in the hot sun. Then I’d have to dig around in that pile of rubble, and what were the chances of finding it? Even if I did find it, it might be useless, and either way I’d have to come back here… by then, Tounoin might have returned. So I decided to just wait. Fortunately there was a roof over the passage, and the elevated location allowed for good ventilation. I sat down in the aisle with my violin case beside me on the concrete, which was cool and pleasant in the shade. Looking through the bars of the railing, the city was the color of scorched gold in the midsummer sun. I’ll wait here until it cools down in the evening, and if he doesn’t come back I’ll go look for the key…. but what if the key doesn’t work? Whether it’s there or not, I’ll have to come back, but what if Tounoin doesn’t come back tonight?
Then I’ll just spend the night here outside. No one but Tounoin comes up here anyway, and it’s summer so it shouldn’t be a problem to sleep overnight… but what if he’s on vacation? I haven’t heard anything about that. He’s probably shopping or something, he’ll be back in the evening. As I stared blankly at the scenery thinking about this, I began to feel sleepy. To tell the truth, I didn’t want to move anymore. The sooner I went to look for the key the better, and the sooner I could take some medicine the better. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I was thirsty and I knew I could get a cold drink at the convenience store downstairs. But once I was sitting like this, I didn’t feel like getting up again. I felt like I didn’t actually sleep much at the police dormitory, and yesterday was still yesterday…
I had helped Mimiko with her farm work in the morning, took my nephews to the town swimming pool, and taken a six-hour express train ride home, and then when I was feeling relieved to be home, the apartment was gone. And all that time I wasted looking for a hotel… after all that, it’s not surprising that I didn’t get a good night’s sleep. In other words, I was utterly exhausted. And to top it off, I was coming down with a cold. I laid down with my bag as a pillow, just to give my body a rest. After a short nap I would take a fever reducer… and then go find the key… I laid down, staring at the concrete ceiling of the aisle and the blue sky beyond, thinking about the pile of scores I had that were now burned. I hadn’t finished learning more than half of them, maybe I should have brought at least those with me… I couldn’t help thinking about it now.
...I opened my eyes with a start and realized I had fallen asleep. My body ached all over, probably from lying on a concrete bed. But I didn’t feel like waking up, I was feeling very sluggish, as if I were being held in a metal box. I wanted to look at the time, but I couldn’t lift my arm to put on my watch. ‘Never mind,’ I thought, ‘This is the top floor, and the only room up here is Tounoin’s, so I can afford to take my time. I’m sure he’ll have something to say when he gets back, and there’s no need to move when it’s still so hot…’ With this thought, I was sucked back into the darkness of sleep. But it was a sleep that I shouldn’t have fallen into, like what people experience when they’re in distress on snowy mountains.
I was burning hot when I woke up again. I forced open my heavy eyelids. Through the bars of the railing, at the same height as I was lying, the orange sun was blazing, and I was basking in the west sun. I tried to get up, but my body felt like a bag of wet sand. If I stayed here, I would dry out in the sun. I managed to crawl up on all fours and move to the little remaining shade by the top of the stairs. As I let my head fall limp, I thought of something. The violin! I shouldn’t have left it in the sun like that… I crawled back to the apartment door, grabbed the violin case, and went back to the shade. The coldness of the concrete made me feel uncomfortable, like a myriad of worms were slithering under my skin. Chills kept running down my spine incessantly. I was already starting to doze off, thinking of how awful this was. The sound of cicadas chirping somewhere in the distance was becoming more and more faint. Water… water… when it gets cooler, I’ll have to go to the convenience store… barley tea, juice...water...water…. I found myself depressed. When I came to, it was pitch black. I felt cold, and when I moved my entire body was filled with aches and pains. My head also felt like it was going to crack open, and the breath on my lips was hot. I felt like I couldn’t get up, but I managed to do so because I knew I was in danger of dying out here. Going down the stairs, however, was even more dangerous. My legs were unreliable, and my hands were shaking as I clung to the railing with what little strength I had. Still, I somehow managed to reach the elevator and descended to the ground floor.
I staggered the 30 meters or so to the corner store and went in. The brightness of the white lights hurt my eyes.
“Excuse me,” I said, leaning against the register, “Do you have any fever reducers?”
“No, we don’t,” the cashier replied, “But there’s a pharmacy a little bit down the street.” He seemed kind.
“How far is ‘just a little bit…’” It was too far for me now. “Could I have a bottle of Pocari?” The clerk asked me which one. “No, a large one.”
“Two bottles are six hundred and eighteen yen.”
With trembling fingers I took the change and the heavy package and left the store. I didn’t have time to go looking for the keys. I literally crawled back to Tounoin’s front door on the seventh floor, relieved to see that the violin I had left behind was still there, and then I completely ran out of steam. I would fall asleep intermittently, waking up with chattering teeth, and then fall asleep again only to wake up drenched in sweat… each sleep and awakening had a similar sense of torment and nightmares, and time passed slowly. Every time I woke up, I would first check to make sure my violin was safe, then take a sip or two of Pocari, touch the violin case again and fall back into another painful sleep.
I felt like my beloved instrument, which was ‘only two million yen’ in the eyes of musicians, was still very precious to me even at this moment when I felt on the brink of death. When I was a student, quite a few of my friends had instruments worth 2 million, and some played on ones worth 3 or 5 million. I wondered how they managed to squeeze that out of their parents. The violin is a small but expensive instrument, with the best ones like Stradivarius costing hundreds of millions of yen. Because of their nature, being made with wood, the sound gets better with age, so the 300,000 or 400,000 yen new violins lined up in the window of a music store are only considered entry-level instruments. When I was a student, I used a brand new violin that cost 700,000 yen. My mother spent all of her savings to buy me the best one she could find in the country, and that was how much it cost to get the violin and the bow as a set. The sound is somewhat proportional to the price, so no matter how hard I tried my instrument could not match that of a 3 million yen instrument. That’s why when I got out of college and started a temporary job, the first thing I did was buy this violin. I had already given up being a professional, but I really wanted an instrument that had a better sound; it was the culmination of around four years of frustration. I sold my 700,000 yen set for 600,000 yen, keeping the bow, and then added 1.4 million yen of my own from a personal loan to purchase my current instrument. I was really happy at the time, and now with only one more payment, my beloved instrument will be mine in both name and reality. Then, I will buy a suitable bow for it… probably something around 500,000 yen… with a loan again, but I will do it to get a new bow. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to afford it. And then I wished I could play the violin just one more time before I died, if this was to be my last moments…. when I think about it, I was being as sentimental as something you’d see in a shoujo manga, and later I blush when I recall being like that. I’m proud of myself for being a violinist, and under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have ever thought of pawning my violin for money. But I’m a fool, and in some way it’s more manly to be foolish.
That was what I was thinking about when I absentmindedly changed thoughts to the man who seemed to not be coming back, no matter how long I waited. I thought I heard footsteps, but figured it was just another hallucination. But the sound was getting closer… a white object appeared on the stairs, quickly turning into a Panama hat with black eyes under the brim. As I was lying on my concrete bed, all I could see was what came into my field of vision from the other side — a man with only a head, then a neck… his eyebrows were tight, the eyes underneath long and narrow, with a well-defined nose that even from the front you could tell was high.
“No way,” the lips murmured. Then the shoulders appeared under the man’s neck, and a hand came up and lifted the Panama hat, which he fanned his face with. The man’s dark hair was long and full, tucked in tightly from the hat; it didn’t look rude or obnoxious because the style suited him. “Morimura… san? What are you doing here…?” With a clatter of footsteps the whole body appeared, a solid 190cm tall body in an elegant linen suit. He was holding a trunk that had customs stickers in one hand. Had he been traveling abroad…?
“Hey,” I smiled, or at least I thought I did. It was Kei Tounoin, the 22 year old unknown genius conductor who had dropped out of the Music Department of the National Fine Arts University — which he was accepted straight into — because he had ‘nothing more to learn’ after one year, and then he studied abroad in Germany and Austria. His present status was as the permanent conductor of the 2-Chome Phil, or Fujimi Orchestra, an amateur ensemble of people who love music. “I’ve been… waiting for a while…” I said in a raspy, shrill voice. Before I realized it was me speaking, I was folded into the chest of the suit that had quickly appeared.
“Morimura-san! What’s going on? What the hell are you doing in a place like this?!”
I was going to answer, but I lost consciousness…
--
When I woke up, I was in the water. At first I just felt vaguely cool and comfortable, when I heard a chuckle in my ear. My face was wiped with a cold towel dripping with water, and I opened my eyes.
“Oh, you noticed,” The one who said this in a very relieved voice was Tounoin, who was looking right into my face from above. I tried to sit up, as I was using his arm as a pillow, but I heard a bang and realized I was lying in a Western-style bathtub filled with water. Completely naked.
“Wha-ah…” I jumped in shock.
Tounoin said in a serious voice, “I had to hurry to lower your temperature, it was over 40ºC.” I was relieved to hear that, but then my eyelids began to feel heavy… “Wait! Just one sip before you go to sleep,” he said with a panicked voice, and his arm snatched me up in a hug while he placed something hard and cold to my lips. A cup…? “You’re dehydrated, just drink as much as you can,” he said. Adam woke up and took a bite of the apple, but when I covered my crotch with my hand I felt even more embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said and shoved a thin object into my mouth. “It’s a thermometer,” he told me.
When he saw the temperature dropped to 37º he let me lean back into the water. I noticed that the sleeves and chest of his expensive linen suit were soaked from where I was leaning against him. “I’m sorry… I feel lost… put it on…” when I mumbled with the thermometer in my mouth, Tounoin smiled.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I was scared because I was afraid he was going to kiss me. But he only leaned in to read the thermometer. The door behind him slammed open, and he murmured, “It’s about time he got here.”
“How is it? Has it gone down a bit?”
“Seven degrees in one minute. I’ll move him to the room. Oh, can you get a bath towel for me from the cabinet over there? Two or three for the bed.”
“I should have brought a nurse,” said the man, opening the cupboard as he thrust his stethoscope into his pocket. Tounoin tried to pick me up, but I said I could walk myself. Both of them got irritated at me, thinking that I was just embarrassed. But the problem was the bed that I was brought to… two months ago, I was raped in this bed… but I couldn’t very well say that to Tonouin, who had taken care of me like a mother, nor to the doctor. After all, I don’t have a place to go home to, and I can’t look for an apartment until I get better.
“I’ll give you some glucose. You can still give him water. Basically the only medicine he needs is water and rest. Let him have some porridge when he has the energy to eat. I’ll come back tomorrow to see how it goes,” said the doctor, who left quickly after finishing his diagnosis.
I had enough energy to talk, “Are you related to that doctor?”
“He’s my uncle,” was the reply. I tried to tell him that there were pajamas in my bag, but he ignored me.
Instead, he pushed the dial button on the phone he pulled out from under the bed, but I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying. “Hello, this is Kei. No, from Fujimi… please tell him it will be a little while before I can come back. No, I have a guest.” As I listened I felt his voice soften, and it occurred to me that he had a family, too. I hadn’t thought about it before…
When I woke up after a good night’s sleep I felt much better. I put on my underwear and pajamas, went to the bathroom on my own, which also made me feel better. My precious violin had been placed on the shelf above the audio components. When I told Tounoin about my unfortunate situation, he expressed his deepest sympathy and said I could stay in his place for the time being.
“I can’t annoy you any more than I already have,” I said. He had taken care of me and slept on the floor so I could use his bed.
“I see…” he said, his tone of voice sounding slightly angry. “I don’t think it’s annoying.”
“Well, I think it will still be two or three more days until I can get everything sorted out. So I’m sorry for that.”
“Yeah. But there’s no rush, you can stay here until you have the energy to play the violin. Conductor’s orders.” I laughed, and Tounoin laughed too. He’s a handsome man, but with his usual expressionless face he looks dour and misanthropic. However when he smiles, he looks very youthful and friendly.
—-
It was the third day I had occupied Tounoin’s bed. I had been thinking that tomorrow I could go out and look for an apartment, but I fell asleep… I woke up in the middle of the night because of a faint sound of music, just a murmur. 'That is… that’s Tannhäuser,' I thought, the song that filled up this room when it was at full volume on the night two months ago, when Tounoin forcibly embraced me! ‘Oh my god!’ I thought, and felt like jumping to my feet. But my body stayed still like it was bound up by rope. No, I was holding my breath like a rabbit who had heard the snort of a wolf, who was stalking him. I stifled a gasp, then fearfully opened my eyes.
The room was dark, illuminated only by moonlight streaming in through the window, where the blinds were lowered… Tounoin was in his usual place, looking like his usual self on the other side of the room: facing the console cross-legged with his back to the bed. The sound of Tannhäuser was leaking from his headphones. The broad shoulders of his back made me wince, and inwardly I took an escape stance. Tounoin raised his arms and folded his hands behind his neck, then slowly curled his body forward. He stayed like that for quite some time. I could only see his curled back as I secretly watched him, fighting the memories that came back to me no matter how hard I tried to push them away. I don’t want to remember, but why is it that inconvenient memories are so vivid? I was attacked and raped while this song was blaring at maximum volume… the feeling of his thing going into me, the pain of it tearing my ass and the sensation of my internal organs being pushed out of my mouth when he was penetrating me. The uncountable minutes of humiliation, feeling crazy, embarrassed, terrible… I felt unbearably miserable, I really want to be able to erase this from my memory! Of course I didn’t want to do it… but I had gasped and moaned, and he was saying, “I love you”... no way! I wish I was lying, but the facts are what they are.
I don’t know why he’s listening to that song, but before I knew it the sound stopped, and the silence made me choke up even more. The sound of my heartbeat throbbed in my ears as I pressed my head into the pillow, and I was worried Tounoin would hear it. I swallowed hard… how long was the silence going to last? Tounoin, motionless as a stone, murmured faintly, “Yuuki… Yuuki…” in a piercing whisper. Then he took off the headphones and stood up. I shut my eyes quickly. I felt a presence approach the side of the bed, and the raggedness of his breathing was stifling. I tried my best to pretend to be asleep. Tounoin seemed to be staring down at me. “If… if he’s willing…” he said quietly.
I decided what I would do and how I would do it, but I was confused. If he comes at me like he did that other time, I’m going to punch him in the face and run away, but… can I do it? ‘I will!’ I shouted at myself. Tounoin is a good man, and he saved my life, but that’s one thing and this is another! It has to be different! Tounoin was still standing there. The tension in my throat was so great that I felt my face begin to flush, thanks to the struggle to stifle screaming and the feeling of wanting to leap out of bed.
I thought I had reached my limit when I heard his baritone voice say, “I’m sorry…” and he softly ruffled my hair. I opened my eyes when I heard the footsteps move away from me and the sound of blankets being spread out. Tounoin was lying with his back to me on a blanket on the wooden floor, instead of his bed that he had given up for me. He knew. He knew that I was awake, that I was curious about him. He knew I was afraid that he might do something, even though Tounoin had sworn never to force me and was keeping his vow. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but I was scared to do that because it would give him hope… if I made him want to try again, when he was trying to give up like a man…. well, honestly I was afraid of Tounoin. Our friendship was built on the thin ice of his self-control, and if I take one careless step and it cracks, I will be swallowed by the flames of his passion that are still burning underneath. I knew that for sure from that afternoon in July.
I also knew that I couldn’t allow myself to succumb to pleasure in the arms of a man; I couldn’t forgive myself after my body confessed itself unintentionally. He had hugged me with arms that were free of lust and apologized. I had said ‘I understand, but I’m not going to be in a romantic relationship with a man no matter how much he loves me.’ He accepted it when I said those words, and then we settled down into the normal friendship I had hoped for… but the way Tounoin was fighting with himself now, the bitter battle between his true feelings and the pretense he showed me tonight, that was the truth. He only put on the ‘just a friend’ act for me, a false image that twisted his true feelings. I knew I had to snap out of it with an ‘I’m sorry,’ which I was able to say by pushing down my emotions through reason, but it was much more painful than I had expected. He said that we would go find an apartment tomorrow, and that was the scream of his suppressed emotions. I knew I shouldn’t have stayed here… I like Tounoin as a person, but I can’t accept him the way he wants me to. I’m like a fish laying in front of a cat, ready to be eaten. I can’t let him do this to himself anymore.
The next day we took a cab to the real estate office. I said we could walk, but Tounoin was adamant, so we drove. We actually went to four real estate agencies, but couldn’t find anything that I liked so decided to try again another day. While we were out I also went to the school I worked at, which was two stops away by train. The vice principal was there, and he expressed his deepest sympathies for my situation and gave me a new ID card after I had requested him to reissue it over the phone. I immediately went to the city hall, got my seal registration card and went to the bank. Tounoin asked the branch manager to check my bank account in a calm and unobtrusive tone, and got the answer that I should wait for a few days. The bank book with a balance of 637 yen was quickly reissued with a single three-sentence stamp, since he showed his passport and acted as my guarantor. It seemed my body was still not up to full condition since I fell asleep in the cab on the way home, which worried Tounoin a little.
As soon as we got back Tounoin pushed me to go to bed, and then Ishida-san came to visit suddenly. It seems that Fujimi’s caretaker was very worried about me, since I had been missing since the fire. He said, “Well, I got a call from my landlord as soon as I came back from my vacation. He asked me if I knew where you had gone, so I called your family but they replied that you left them on the 12th. I didn’t say anything about the fire, I just told your sister that I had urgent business for Fujimi. Since the police assured us that nobody died in the fire, I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.”
Come to think of it, Ishida-san was my guarantor for my apartment contract. “Thank you for everything,” I bowed my head from the bed. “I was going to call my sister after I found a new apartment,” I added, “But Tounoin didn’t think I should mention the mishap with the fire. It’s not really a nice thing to talk about, after all.” Ishida-san nodded in agreement.
“It’s a good thing you have shelter right now. How is your cold?”
“I'm getting better. I’ve been troubling Tounoin-san a lot.”
“So, are you going to find an apartment?"
“It’s hard to find a cheap place where you can also practice violin.”
Ishida laughed, “I hope the landlord decides to rebuild, but he is getting old. I did hear that he will be compensated for the spread of the fire."
“That’s right, even though the landlord didn’t start the fire.”
“Well, that’s about it. So…” Ishida-san rummaged through the bag he brought with him. “There’s not much in there, but be careful when you open it,” he said, placing an envelope next to my lap.
“Oh no, no, you shouldn’t have.”
“It’s not much, just a gift. This is the kind of situation for it, after all. And you don’t need to give anything back in return; we’ve known each other for a long time, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” He smiled at me and sat up. “Are you going to stay here until you find an apartment?”
I was about to reply ‘no,’ but Tounoin said “Yes.”
“That’s good. I’ll see you later, then. Is rehearsal still off for tomorrow?”
“No, I’ll go.”
“Oh, yes. Well, we can’t have rehearsal without Morimura-chan, and Tounoin-kun isn’t going to attend either. You don’t have to force yourself.”
After Nico-chan left, looking busy, Tounoin and I had a disagreement about where I would stay until I found an apartment.
Tounoin said, “I’ll be staying at my parents’ place from tonight, so you can take your time finding an apartment.”
“That’s…! No, I’ll go to a hotel.”
“That would be a waste of money,” I choked up… it’s true that if the bank doesn’t figure out my situation, I’m penniless.
“But I can’t just kick you out of your own place…”
“It’s okay, I should be dutiful to my sponsors sometimes, after all.”
“Where’s your hometown?”
“Seijo.”
Wow, a high-class residential area! “But then, won’t it take you nearly two hours to get here?”
“Well, yes.”
“I can’t bother you like that.”
“I told you, it’s not a bother.”
“But it’s definitely inconvenient.”
“It’s about time I slept on a decent futon anyway.”
“Well, let’s switch. I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”
“You’re a sick man.”
“I’m better now!”
“Then why don’t you go for a run around the town?”
We were dancing around the subject, he knew it and I knew it. Tounoin wants to get out before his emotions get the better of him. I can’t make the man who saved my life leave his own apartment. But to hold him back would be to continue tormenting him… 'Oh, righteousness or humanity!' I thought, and then I realized that it wasn’t out of duty or courtesy that I wanted to keep him around, is it? It’s just my stubbornness, and that I don’t want to admit that I’m actually afraid of him….
“Okay,” I said. “I feel really bad for you, but if it makes you feel better…”
Tounoin laughed with a huff, “I’m telling you that I don’t think you can sleep well with me around, so I’m removing myself.”
I was pissed off that he pointed out the truth so bluntly, “I trust you, don’t I?”
“Do you?”
Now I was really annoyed, “So why don’t you sleep with me tonight?” I thought I’d lost it as soon as the words came out of my mouth, but I couldn’t unsay it. “If you don’t want to sleep on the floor, then sleep next to me. I don’t mind,” I told him, confident he would refuse.
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” he said with a sly smile.
“Then let’s go with that.” He smiled at me as I looked up at him, feeling like I had dug my own grave.
“I’m a better sleeper than Morimura-san.”
—
… Tounoin’s daily routine is that of somebody who is young and doesn’t have a regular job (I think, I never asked him about it), but is very precise. He wakes up at seven in the morning and has bread and coffee for breakfast. Then, he runs the washing machine and cleans the room with a rented mop. When he's done, he takes out a book or two from the cabinet full of scores, spreads them on his knees and studies them. He wasn’t playing recordings this time, but apparently just reading the music in his head; I had heard that only geniuses of Seiji Ozawa’s level could do that sort of thing without the assistance of an instrument. Usually you play piano or something at least. Conductors use the score, a book of music that contains all the parts of the orchestra (brass, woodwinds, strings, percussion), and each page has all the staves needed for the instrumental parts. The conductor’s job is to understand the flow of each part and how it interacts with the harmony in the complex combination as a whole. To be blunt, it was a task that my mind could never handle, but Tounoin apparently can construct it completely in his head. I knew he was a true genius. But of course, he didn’t seem to be doing it effortlessly either. He was doing it in his usual manner, with the score on his knees, but the level of tension and concentration was completely different from when he was reading with the recordings. He doesn’t talk to anyone, but I feel like I need to refrain from even breathing…
He does this from around eight o’clock, sometimes until the afternoon, without taking a break, and then would take a nap. After sleeping like a dead man for an hour, he would put on recordings in addition to reading the scores. Then he had dinner delivered from a restaurant (today while waiting for the food, he remembered the laundry and went to put it in the dryer), and after he finishes eating, goes back to playing recordings and score study. He finishes up around twelve o’clock, takes a nightly bath, and goes to bed. He doesn’t have any sort of nightcap or alcohol; he was a man who lived a life completely immersed in music.
I looked at the clock every five minutes, waiting for midnight to come. Well, maybe waiting wasn’t quite the right word, it was more like being in a state of trepidation. It was a little past midnight when Tounoin took off his headphones and turned the components off. He turned around to see if I was asleep (of course I pretended to be), turned off the light and walked past my side of the bed to the back door. Incidentally, this apartment is very well designed, except for the fact that the room isn’t square in shape. The first thing you see when you walk in is the audio equipment with five speakers that look like they cost a million yen. When you remove your shoes, you can see a large window at the other end of the room, and when you step inside the flooring is cork. The bed is at the far end of the room, and next to the double-sized bed there is a row of doors on the wall. The three closest to the entrance are cabinets full of musical scores. The fourth one leads to a cabin in the back, which houses a bathroom with a Western-style toilet, a storage area with laundry facilities, and a dining/kitchen area, all crammed into one functional space.
After finishing his nightly studies, Tounoin went into the captain’s room for his usual bath, but he didn’t come out for a long time, while I waited and waited pretending to be asleep. He usually doesn’t take long baths, but it was over thirty minutes at least. Tired of nervously waiting, I actually dozed off instead of pretending, waking up when I felt the bed sink. Tounoin had laid down in the empty spot by the wall. He fidgeted a bit behind me with his back to me, but he soon quieted down. Then came the sign of someone who was satisfied with the comfort of sleeping. I couldn’t help but listen attentively to the sound of Tounoin’s breathing less than a meter away. If it didn’t switch to the sound of deeper sleep, I wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully myself… but it wasn’t long before I started to hear his breathing slow and fall into a regular pattern. For now I was relieved, and was ready to fall asleep too. But… my mind was still racing and I couldn’t quiet it. It wasn’t that I wasn’t tired, but I hadn’t been out of the apartment in days, and even if my body is tired my mind is so sharp that it refuses to sleep. And then the more impatient I am to sleep, the more I hear Tounoin’s sleeping breath, the smell of his shampoo, and other things poking at my consciousness that brought back memories from that night and afternoon. This man who suddenly revealed himself as a passionate person, who attacked me and stole me away, when I had only known him as an impudent and calm conductor… this man who plucked my pride and twisted my flesh into a type of affair I’d never known… this man with wide shoulders, a broad chest and strong arms, that held me captive and dominated me, stopping me from challenging him with his strength…
For a moment, I remembered the feeling of something thick and hot ramming into my ass. I twitched, and at the same time I realized that my penis was on the verge of rising. Why is my body in such a state of rebellion against my will? How was it that a single, forced experience made me a homosexual who wants a man? But… but… smelling Tounoin’s scent… his presence… is what causes this change in my body. He already understood, I convinced him that I can’t be his lover, and he has not laid a finger on me as promised. I...I...I… stiffened at the sound of a sigh behind me.
“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” The sleepy voice had a faint hint of a teasing smile. The bed creaked as he turned over, and then Tounoin fell asleep with a swoosh.
‘Damn it!’ I thought. I was supposed to be worried that he would break the chains of his reason! Yes, I was. He really wanted to have sex with me, but out of concern that he couldn’t keep his vows he was going to stay at his parents’ house. Because I hinted at that, his vain counterattack was this accusation that I didn’t trust him. The rest was just saying words for words’ sake, but… okay, I’ll buy it. I’ll buy it. I’m determined to see how much more of this you can take, until you give up! But if you lose it and come after me, I’ll laugh my ass off and ask what happened to your vows! Yeah, that’s right, I’m going to laugh about it. Once my mind was made up, all I had to do was sleep. Oh yeah, I’ll laugh it up. He’s going to get a real good night’s sleep…
I woke up twice in the night. Why is that? ‘I’m a better sleeper than you…’ get out of here with that kind of joke!
—
I woke up in a daze. It was cool and chilly, and I nuzzled my nose into the warmth in front of my face. I heard, “Good morning.”
“Mmm…” I replied softly. Huh?
The warmth was the chest of Tounoin’s pajamas, and I had slept hugging him! I tried to sit up, but he pulled my head back and said, “Now do you understand? I have confidence in my ability to reason,” reminding me of what I had thought before I fell asleep. I steeled myself to prepare for an escape.
“Yes, but you’re not a good sleeper, are you?”
Tounoin laughed, “I’ll be as careful as possible.” Now I’m sure you’ll be sleeping with me as long as I’m here. Don’t start barking now that your tail is out, wolf… I’m perfectly fine with it. But the AC is so low in this room that it feels good to be together… I’m in trouble… I fell asleep again and was woken up for lunch, and I felt embarrassed.
In the afternoon the two of us went out to look for an apartment again, but we didn’t find anything that day either. I withdrew my requirement for being able to practice the violin. I was satisfied with my modest request to be able to afford the rent, and making sure it was in Fujimi-cho, not too far from the station. But I couldn’t even find one that would satisfy those modest wishes. Most of the apartments in Fujimi-cho are bedroom-focused, and the emphasis on family units seemed to be a bottleneck. I didn’t mind living in an apartment with one or more baths, but the rent was accordingly expensive…
I had a Fujimi rehearsal in the evening, but I was tired from visiting real estate agencies. But I had promised Ishida-san that I would attend, so I started preparing in the evening. I realized that if I don’t play for a day, I can’t move my fingers the following day. Aside from the right hand that uses the bow, the left hand has to play on the strings almost of its own accord. To make up for a week’s absence of practicing, I spent three hours before heading to the Civic Center. But… fuck! This is just Allegro! Why can’t I move my fingers better than this?
“Morimura-san.”
Oh, I’m depressed, I missed it again. And it’s in such an easy position…
“Morimura-san!” He shouted in my ear. I looked up to see Tounoin looking down calmly.
“Go ahead, I’ll be on my way shortly.”
“Are your clothes OK? If you want to change…”
“No, thank you. It’s fine, it’s fine.” I only had two sets of clothes in my travel bag, and the ones I was wearing at the moment were procured by Tounoin because he thought it would be inconvenient to keep wearing the same clothes. He has good taste.
“So, we should leave soon. We can stop at Fujimi on the way home for dinner.”
“Yeah,” I nodded and thought to myself, is he acting like my guardian? Yeah… he is.
—
Fujimi’s summer vacation lasted ten days, and I returned on the second rehearsal after the vacation. I was escorted (or so it appeared) by Tounoin. We stepped into the main conference room of the Civic Center and got down to business as usual. I took out the folding chairs from the storage area and arranged them, took out the folding table and arranged it, then the tuner and checked the batteries… Tounoin helped me quietly, and when he was done he disappeared to somewhere else.
The first person to arrive was Ishida-san with his double bass, “Well, you’ve come out after all.” Apparently he had come to set up the venue in my stead. Everybody else seemed to come very quickly as well, and when they came up to talk to me they all knew about the fire in my apartment. I shouldn’t have felt annoyed that they were worried about me, but I also felt embarrassed, so I just said, “Thank you” and “It’s okay.” Kawashima-san also came to give her condolences.
“I was worried when I heard from my mother that you called me. Where on earth did you go…?” as she said this, the beautiful flutist looked at me with a puzzled expression. She knows about my relationship with Tounoin, except she stopped short of saying anything out loud.
I took the initiative, “Yes, actually, I’m staying at Tounoin-san’s right now,” Ishida-san knew about it, anyway. I added firmly, “In a clean and respectable way, as a housemate.”
Kawashima ran her white fingers through her pretty hair, “So are you still following the trend?”
“Of course not! I’m not gay!”
Kawashima-san cut me off, chuckling, “I’m sorry, I have to admit I have a little grudge against you, so I felt like teasing.” It was a one-way love triangle between me, Kawashima-san and Tounoin. I was in love with Kawashima-san, she fell in love with Tounoin at first sight, and Tounoin fell in love with me… then I was dumped by Kawashima-san, she was rejected by Tounoin, and of course I have no intention of becoming a lover to a man. But it was a joking manner of resentment. After all, she’s the one that keeps trying to get me and Tounoin together. She seems to think homosexual couples are ‘trendy,’ but you know… a man and a man bedding together is just an awful sight.
That evening we were supposed to be finishing up Finlandia, which we’ve been working on since last month… I took a break, and hadn’t touched my violin for a week. I looked at Igarashi-kun, the student cellist, and thought, ‘Well… let's see.’ I clapped my hands to get his attention. “Since everybody seems to be ready, can we try playing the part together? Strings, let’s do all the strings together and all the winds together. Timpani, please join the winds. Kaizuka-san, please take the lead of the wind section.”
The principal oboe raised her hand to gather the other winds, and I joined the string group, taking advantage of the rattling and rearranging. “Ichiyama-san,” I called the second violin leader. “I’m sorry, but I need you to be the leader today.”
“But Concertmaster, why are you stepping down?”
“I haven’t played for a week, so my fingers are completely rusty. I want to get back in shape before Tounoin-san gets here. Sorry to be so selfish.” Ichiyama, who was an accounting manager of a construction company in the next town, nodded seriously.
“I heard you were sick in bed with a cold. How are you feeling now?”
“Better, thanks.”
Igarashi-kun smiled at me as I joined the circle. He was especially happy, but everyone was already tired of practicing the monotonous long notes. The winds began to play and Ichiyama-san frowned. “I can’t hear very well,” he said. For the next forty minutes, until eight o’clock, we concentrated on uniting the string section.
“Stop, stop! We have to listen to each other more. If the string parts are not played like a single instrument, it will be more disjointed when we put it together with the winds. Then, let’s take it from bar 32.” The group with the timpani added to the woodwinds and brass seemed to be working hard to create the right harmony, playing and stopping. Playing and stopping. I had been able to instruct them on the right way to practice.
“Sorry,” said Nico-Chan, scratching his head. Ishida-san, who held the title of ‘Fujimi Citizen’s Symphony Orchestra Caretaker,’ had been sentenced by his wife to have his instrument taken away when he almost destroyed his main business, Mozart coffee shop, because he was so devoted to Fujimi. As a relief measure for the situation when we lost our bass player, we won her pardon so he could return to playing after almost ten years of being benched. He couldn’t help that he couldn’t produce a solid sound, but Ichiyama-san had been a friend of Ishida-san’s since the formation of Fujimi, and therefore had a relationship that allowed them to complain freely. Ishida-san apologized and tried his best to meet the order of playing ‘crisply’ in a serious manner. This was one of the things I liked about Fujimi, how in the family-like atmosphere warnings and advice were exchanged very naturally. We were all getting better together while having fun.
“Morimura-chan,” Ichiyama-san’s voice made me turn around. “You’ve got a lot of tension in your shoulders.”
“Oh, yes,” I lowered my violin and did some exercise with my shoulders. I’m getting really stiff.
“So, let’s start at measure forty-eight,” It’s really wonderful to have such colleagues, I thought. Oh, I’m in tune… yes, it’s going well. Eventually, at exactly the right time, Tounoin walked through the door after his five-minute observation and climbed up on the podium. I wondered where he had gone off to; I had thought he was going to be there for the earlier part of the rehearsal since he came over with me. Then I realized something: could it be that he did it for me? I didn’t mind at all, but it's true that I didn’t want it to be obvious that we had come to rehearsal together.
—
I was packing up to leave after Tounoin’s usual, ‘We’re done’ when Igarashi-kun came up to me, looking like he wanted to talk.
“So I heard that you were laid up for a while,” Igarashi is a current student in the cello department of the local music university, who started school the same year I graduated. He’s a cute guy who looks up to me for some reason. He’s talented, motivated, and cheerful, and also tends to be the ‘mood-maker’ in Fujimi.
“I caught a cold when I got stuck without a place to stay,” I replied, “But I’m all better now. Why?” I opened the floor for him.
“Actually…” he scratched his head, “The thing is… I’ve been ordered by the orchestra director to transcribe some music. It’s for a program in next month’s school festival, and it’s due tomorrow. I gathered my friends and we worked hard, but we still have a third of the score left to do.”
“Haha… what’s the piece?”
“A symphony composed by Kitagawa, a senior student in the composition department. It’s long and complicated.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come to rehearsal tonight.”
“If I didn’t take a break from it, I’d be dead by now. I’ve been up all night for two days and still haven’t finished.”
“So are you trying to get another cat’s paw?” Igarashi rubbed the back of his head as I talked.
“Sempai, please. I’ll get you midnight snacks and breakfast!”
Transcribing music is literally copying music, but not the easy way with the photocopier. What Igarashi and his friends were doing was creating parts from the conductor’s score, the music that represents the entire piece. However, for each player in the orchestra the score is inconvenient, since all the notes of the instruments are written in the music, and each page only consists of four to six measures per page, requiring frequent page turns. So for the performers, a part must be made from the score, a transcription of the part from the general score, and it must be done for each instrument; for first violin the first violin part, oboe for the oboe, percussion for percussion. Of course, for major works by popular composers such as Mozart, Beethoven and Toshiro Mutsu, the publishers give you both the score and parts if you buy them (or if there are copyright restrictions, you can rent them for a fee) — or copy them if you can get away with it. However, the ones that Igarashi and his colleagues are working on are by a student composer, with only the original score to work with…
In other words, the only option was to take the score and write out the parts, which I had done many times. The ‘Freude Orchestra’ was formed as a music college club, and had a tradition of playing newly composed pieces by fellow students mixed in with regular concert programming. In Fujimi, whenever I needed to make my own arrangements for missing parts, I was the one to do the transcribing (Nico could do the arranging as well, but as a busy coffee shop owner he usually didn’t have time to do it). So I know firsthand the difficulty Igarashi and the others are facing.
“Okay, I’ll help you out,” I answered. “Where have you been working on it?”
Igarashi looked relieved, “In my apartment, we only have the string parts left to do.”
“Is it a good piece?”
“It’s not bad. Mayuzumi said it was a great work, but…”
“Hahaha!” I realized that the only people left in the practice room were me, Igarashi and Tounoin, and everything but the chair I was sitting on had been put away. I told the tall conductor, “I’m going to go with Igarashi-kun to help him with some transcribing right now, so please go home first.” He stared at me for a moment and nodded. He quickly left the room. “I’m staying with him for right now, since I haven’t been able to find a reasonable apartment,” I explained.
“Oh…” Igarashi nodded. After that, I felt like he was secretly biting back a laugh, but that was probably my paranoia. “Well, you really saved my life. I was wondering what I would do if Morimura-san refused me.”
I finally escaped, didn’t I? But while listening to Igarashi’s smiling voice, I was thinking of how Tounoin’s back looked somewhat depressed as he walked away. It’s not a bad feeling to have somebody worry about you, but he’s being overly protective. I’m a full-grown man, I can take care of myself. I don’t need a guardian anymore.
—-
Igarashi’s apartment was on the third floor of a newer reinforced concrete building, just a few blocks from my old place that had burned down. The room, which was about six tatami mats with a kitchen, was fairly clean, and two exhausted-looking coworkers were waiting for Igarashi to return with his helper. The windows were open and the air was a bit stuffy, but there was no fan running. A pile of staff paper scattered about the room was the reason why they couldn’t have any inadvertent breeze.
“This is Kikuchi on clarinet and Oyama on piano.” Kikuchi was a small man with pouty lips that looked like the type of person who would play clarinet. Both of them were dressed in running shirts and pants, and their eyes were red, their faces full of stubble and fatigue.
“I’m Morimura. How many more pages do you have to do?” The symphony, titled Yuguna, is a large work with a performance time of fifty minutes, filled with waves of sixteenth notes mixed with thirty-second notes in modulation after modulation, a characteristic of modern music. I could tell from a glance of the score that it was a difficult piece. However, I could see a glimpse of talent in the unique melodic quality of the phrases, which was probably why it was chosen as the piece for the Freude Orchestra’s regular concert. But...I put my face close to the handwritten copy. Is that a C? Or is it a D?...D apparently… it’s hard to tell.
“It’s hard enough to read, isn’t it?”
“I think you should probably re-write the whole score while you’re at it,” I said, and the atmosphere quieted down. I realized that I had lost my mind. Damn it, these people…
“Well, I guess Kitagawa-kun will conduct, so I’ll just leave it at that.”
I tried to recover my position, but then one of them said, “Yoshida is the senior in the conducting department, he’s going to conduct it…”
“So…”
“I’ll take care of the conductor’s score.” Igarashi’s face lit up as I said it with a sacrificial look of resignation.
“I’ll do the second violin,” Kikuchi said, “Who’s gonna take cello?”
“I don’t mind doing the cello part,” Oyama said, staring at the copy of the score, “Just the cello.”
“How much time do we have?”
I flipped through the part, trying to assess how long I thought it would take, when Igarashi said in a small voice, “I promised to have it done by nine o’clock…”
“... in the morning, right?”
“Hahaha, well…”
“So we’ve only got ten hours! What are you waiting for? Staff paper! Pens!” There was no point in transcribing music if you can’t make it accurate and legible. And most of the time, you have to race against the clock.
I started with the first violin part, one of the two that I had been assigned. There is only one conductor’s score, but there are eighteen violins in a full orchestra. Priority was given to the many. I wrote in the note heads as fast as I could, going back and adding the stems after I had written a few measures' worth. Then I wrote the accidentals as needed — oops, it’s in B-flat from here. Damn it, I don’t want anybody to get keystroke from… for moving chords around so much. It’s a six-bar break, not five. Oh, is it natural or sharp? No, it’s natural. Hey, is that an E or an F or… uh…
“Igarashi-kun,” I called out to him from halfway across the table, where he was focused on his own work.
Without looking up, Igarashi placed something in front of me. It was dice.
“Is this..?”
“If it’s an even number, it’s E.”
“So you want me to roll the dice to decide which pitch it is? That’s random…” I mumbled, and began to examine the chords to try and draw a conclusion from their spelling.
“Iga, give me the dice,” said Kikuchi, who was behind me using a beer container as a desk. Igarashi tossed him the dice.
“I need them too,” said Oyama, who was also using a makeshift desk next to me.
“What, you’re all doing it that way? You’re lousy transcribers, aren’t you?”
Kikuchi muttered to me as he rolled the dice for Oyama, “I’m sure Morimura-san will figure out why soon enough.”
I knew that if I had to guess and interpret every chord, I would never make the deadline in time. Damn it, if it’s difficult, it’s probably a great piece. I don’t get this music at all! I started working on it about ten o’clock, and it was past midnight when I finished the violin part with the measure numbers written in. I skipped checking the music at this point and started transcribing the whole score. If there were any mistakes, they could find them in rehearsal and if not, then it’ll be what it is. After all, I had to finish this thick book of sheet music by eight o’clock at the latest… But let’s be real, this is impossible! It’s physically not possible to do in seven hours what it would take three people like Igarashi and his team two days and nights to do. But we had to get whatever we could done. As I wrote the names of the parts on the second sheet of the score, I called out to Igarashi, “The piano parts are done. I can’t finish the score by nine o’clock, but I’ll do as much as possible.”
“You’ve finished the violin part already?”
“Really? Wow, that’s fast!” Igarashi picked up the completed part. “I can’t believe this is handwritten! Morimura-san, you could make a living as a transcriber!”
“What? Which one? Wow, that’s great.”
“That’s true, the first violinists are lucky.”
“Ah…” I didn’t have time to be happy even if they praised me. Okay, brass is done. Next is…. but it’s so hot, even with the windows open, because there’s no breeze coming in. The rest of them were wearing only their underwear; they had told me to take mine off too, and I would feel better. So I took my shirt off, though I wasn’t wearing underwear so I was only naked on top, but it’s only guys here anyway.
I was writing out the harp section on page 43 when I heard, “Oh, it’s finally done!” Oyama exhaled a deep breath and suddenly fell back onto the tatami floor. “It’s already four o’clock and I’m starving,” he said and rummaged through the bag from the convenience store that was left there.
“There’s a ramen if you want it,” replied Igarashi, still moving his pen.
“If you make it for me, I’ll eat it.”
“What about you, Morimura-san?” He asked me. I was about to answer ‘no’ when I remembered that I had skipped dinner, and I was almost at the limit of my energy with my stiff shoulders.
“I’ll eat. I missed dinner.”
“So you want me to make two?”
“No, just one.” I quickly sipped the cup of ramen while reading the rest of the score, and returned to my writing. As I started the fiftieth page, Kikuchi announced that he was done with his work. As soon as he finished his ramen, he flopped down beside Oyama, who had fallen asleep, and he did the same.
“So depressed that they’re done already,” muttered Igarashi. Oyama was snoring, Kikuchi had a peaceful sleeping breath, and the sound of Igarashi and my pens running on the paper… the smell of ramen and the sweat of tired young people… I noticed a cool breeze coming through the window, and when I raised my eyes it was light outside. I breathed in the brief freshness that comes between the tropical night and a hot day. Now only a hundred pages to go.
When Igarashi packed his and the other’s finished bunches of parts into paper bags and left the apartment, I was still wrestling with a job that would take another six hours. The sun was on the way up. The hot room was somehow even hotter; sweat dripped from my hair as I bent over the staff paper, so I wrapped a towel around my head. It trickled down my bare chest and armpits, even on the back of my hand. Sweat gushes out in beads no matter how much I wipe it off, making the pen slip in my hand. I took a short break when I had just started the 100th page. In order to reduce the remaining 50 pages as much as possible, I did one more page in the three minutes I was waiting for the cup o’noodles to be ready, but it took me longer than I thought it would, and the ramen turned into udon.
As I slurped down the bloated noodles, I thought about how I was too good-natured. I felt like an idiot for staying up all night on a job that has nothing to do with me or Fujimi… speaking of which, I wonder if Tounoin was worried about me. But at this hour, it would be an imposition to make a phone call, and I don’t even know his phone number in the first place… well, it should be ok, I already mentioned that I was doing the transcription, and he should know that it’s a time-consuming job. I finished the soup, drank two glasses of Aquarius to rehydrate myself, and took up the pen to resume work. Ahh, my hands hurt, my eyes are tired… but if I rested now, I wouldn’t be able to finish the job. Give me strength… I wrote the last symbol on the last page, and the long, long job was done. Eighteen hours of work! My fingers were so stiff they creaked when I tried to put the pen down. I took off my glasses, which felt like they were burrowing into my nostrils, and placed them on top of the finished score. I was tired~
Igarashi and his friends had not returned yet. Come to think of it, he said he had rehearsal in the evening. It’s hard for the underclassmen when they’re overworked by their seniors… I was going to just leave my score behind and go back to Tounoin’s place, but when I laid down to stretch my back — which was stiff as a board — I didn’t want to get up again. I decided to sleep while looking after the house until Igarashi returned. Feeling my tired body falling asleep, I patted myself on the back for a job well done.
—
I smelled food and drink. The sound of voices, sometimes loud and sometimes guttural. It sounded like I was in the middle of a drinking party. I turned over in my sleep, thinking it was too noisy.
“Oh, Morimura-san, are you awake?” I heard Igarashi’s voice say, and felt him come over to look at me. I pretended to still be asleep. They were probably celebrating being done with the transcription, but right now I wanted to sleep more than drink.
“Morimura-san, we have Oden. Hey, Morimura-san.” I didn’t want it, just let me sleep.
“No, he won’t wake up,” I heard Igarashi say to his friends.
“Ah, well he’s a great person. Did you see the score? He rewrote it down to the last page. I admire him,” Kikuchi replied.
“He’s a very serious person, he never makes mistakes on the violin. He practices like a pro, I bet.”
“And he’s cute, too…” Oyama’s voice said, “I didn’t notice it until I saw him sleeping just now. So amazing.” His speech was slurred, so clearly he was drunk.
“Hey, Oyama, don’t be weird,” Igarashi said with a laugh.
“What do you mean ‘weird’? Beethoven and Karajan had male lovers. Genius lives in homosexuality,” after making this startling counterargument, he seemed to stand up.
“Hey Oyama, sit down,” Igarashi said.
“Hehe, just look at him,” he said, and inwardly I frowned as I felt liquored breath on my face. “The more I look at him, the more attractive he is… so cute. Haha, he has such a beautiful chest… and smooth skin… and perky nipples.”
“Hey if Morimura-san wakes up he’s going to kick your ass!” Kikuchi yelled. Oh, I’ll kick his ass alright.
“Beethoven, Karajan… why are you making up that kind of bullshit?”
“Someday you’re gonna get killed, saying that kind of stuff.”
“It’s not bullshit, and I’m a genius. When I see a guy like this I get so horny… he’s so sexy...” The reason I didn’t take action until the person speaking slammed into me was because I was just too tired to bother moving.
“Whoa!” It wasn’t me who screamed, but Igarashi and Kikuchi. My mouth was blocked by the boozy lips stuck to my face. As I struggled, Oyama gasped and said, “You look so sexy, ahh…” as he groped my chest and stomach.
“You idiot! Stop it! Stop it!”
“Oyama, goddamn it, stop!” The two of them were yelling and trying to pull Oyama off of me.
I twisted Oyama’s ear, which he grabbed with his struggling hand, then I slapped him as hard as I could in the face.“You perverted son of a bitch!” I shouted and glared at him.
Oyama looked at me soberly, “This… you! You hit me! I’ll fuck you up!!”
“Oyama! That’s enough!”
“I’m sorry Morimura-san, so sorry!”
“Dammit, let me have a shot at him!” Oyama yelled, and still tried to grab at me while being pinned down by Igarashi and Kikuchi. I almost punched him, but I thought twice about it when I noticed a poster of some chamber music group on the wall behind Oyama. That’s right, I’m a violinist, and my hands are my most important tool. I looked around and saw a bottle of wine. I grabbed it in my other hand and swung it over Oyama’s head; he thought I was going to crack his skull, and Igarashi held up his hands in surprise. But what I threw at his head was… alcohol. After I emptied the contents of the bottle on Oyama’s head, I threw the bottle down.
“There, I’ve cooled you down a bit, asshole!” I spat at him between my clenched teeth. I glanced at the three rigid men and put on the clothes I had taken off. Damn it, if I had known I’d get mixed up in something like this, I wouldn’t have agreed to do anything. I stepped into my sneakers and opened the door.
“Oh, Morimura-san, please wait!” Igarashi dashed after me, but I ignored him. “Sorry, I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry this happened after you helped me so much. I’m sorry!” Igarashi was crying. “When he gets drunk he turns into a monster, but he usually doesn’t do that sort of thing! I’ve never seen him do anything like that before.”
“So are you saying it’s my fault?” Igarashi fell silent for a moment when I sprayed him with the cold anger that was inside me. I looked at him sideways. Igarashi followed me and wept with a crumpled face. I sighed and stopped. “...I know it’s not your fault. I can’t tell you not to worry about it, though.”
“I’m sorry…!” Igarashi squeaked out and sobbed. “Oh I… I can’t go to Fujimi anymore.”
“...are you saying you’re going to make the cello section vacant?”
“No, because I…”
It came out of nowhere. The blood that had been frozen in the pit of my stomach shot up to my head and I yelled as loud as I could, “Don’t be stupid! Don’t you dare waste that shit score I just transcribed for you! And now I’m repaid by getting teased by a drunk and being told that our only cello is quitting? Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Igarashi’s eyes darted as he looked up at me, mumbling, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry…”
“It’s all right, as long as you understand,” I said, and walked away. I thought how the tone of voice I used was like Tounoin’s. Come to think of it, Tounoin… is he worried? It was already night again, and I had left my watch in Igarashi’s apartment, but it was too late to go back. I hurried through the humid night, passing by the convenience store near the apartment. Remembering that I was hungry, I turned around. No, wait, I don’t have any money. But I went ahead and took a peek at the clock at the cash register before I turned the corner again; just before one o’clock… ‘I wonder if Tounoin is asleep,’ I thought, and then I realized: I don’t have my keys. I still haven’t made another spare since I lost the last one, and the last time I left the apartment I was with Tounoin, so I didn’t realize that I would need it. I’m in trouble… guess I’ll have to camp outside of the door again…
I knocked several times, but there was no answer and the door didn’t open. I twisted the knob, hoping that it would work — the door was unlocked. It was dark in the cool, air-conditioned room, and Tounoin seemed to have fallen asleep. Feeling like a curfew-breaking teenager, I stealthily took off my shoes and entered the room, trying to dampen the sound of my footsteps. Tounoin was in the bed, asleep. I slipped my violin case on the shelf and walked quietly to open the door of the cabin without making any noise. I took a quick shower (the hot water needs some time to come out, but I didn’t want to wake up Tounoin), changed into my pajamas, and crept into the kitchen to get at least a piece of bread. I found a sandwich from the convenience store sitting on the table, a box of cup soup, a cup and a pot of hot water. As I took a bite, my heart was filled with a sincere feeling. ‘You’re a good guy, Tounoin…’ as my rumbling stomach settled down, I was ready to forget about what stupid Oyama had done to me, that damn drunk. I turned off the lights in the cabin and snuck back into the main room. I slipped into the space Tounoin had left open for me, and breathed a sigh of relief.
I heard a half-asleep voice say, “Oh… you’re back…”
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Did you finish the transcription?”
“It was an all-nighter, eighteen hours of work.”
“...are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just want to go to sleep.”
“Good night.”
“Good night,” I said, and I fell asleep right away… around what seemed to be dawn I woke up because it was cold, but it was too much effort to get up and turn off the air conditioner, so I chose to huddle closer to the warmth that was near me. It was so warm… Tounoin seemed to notice and hugged my shoulder, but I was already drifting back to sleep so I didn’t know, and didn’t care. I’m not sure if it’s because I trusted that I would be safe with Tounoin, or because I believed he was different from Oyama and that narcissistic, violent homosexual Yasaka.
—
The next day was super, as if all the bad luck I had been having was turned upside-down. It was literally my lucky day. First of all, the manager of the bank came to visit me with a gift. He told me that due to a computer processing error, my salary — which should have been deposited into my account — had been transferred to another customer’s account. The manager bowed his grasshopper-like bald head and said, “Please keep this matter to yourself.” He left me a noshi envelope with a greeting card and a brush writing on it. Inside was two months of my salary. I showed it to Tounoin.
“This is how much they gave.”
He sniffed in frustration, “I’m not sure if that is adequate compensation for their part in causing these difficulties.”
“Well, yes, but it’s all over now…”
“If that’s what you want, then it’s not my place to tell you otherwise.”
“But I feel bad, you know… crashing in front of your apartment and all…”
“I was happy to do it,” Tounoin said, turning away from me with a sigh. I remembered that I needed to find a new apartment as soon as possible; I felt bad staying here forever.
The second lucky break came at a real estate agency in a neighboring town, where I went separately from Tounoin.
“There’s a one-bedroom and bath for 40,000 yen, a three-year old condo on the 6th floor.”
“In Fujimi-cho?” I was about to jump for it without question, but the old owner���s eyes flashed behind his glasses.
“To be honest, it’s been hard to keep occupied. Since this past April, three people have already left within a month of each other.”
“No way… did somebody just move out again?” The realtor shook his head in disbelief.
“The person in the apartment above play music loudly at all hours of the night and day. But you can’t complain about it, because it’s occupied by the landlord’s son, so you know…”
What? Could that be…? “Is it a tall apartment building down the corner from a convenience store…?”
“Oh, do you know it? It belongs to the bank president, so the facilities are top-notch, but just that one room on the 6th floor has been vacant since June. The floor is the only part that isn’t soundproof, and nobody could stand the ‘noise’ coming from the ceiling. So the rent has been discounted by 80,000 yen.”
“How big is it?” The realtor gave me a look like I shouldn’t ask, but told me that it was a Japanese-style eight-tatami-mat room with a four-and-a-half-tatami dining and kitchen. It also had AC and heating. “I’ll take it,” I said. “40,000 for a one bedroom with bath, AC and background music is too good to be true, I’d even put up with a ghost or two.”
“Well, if you say so…” the agent pulled out a contract with a face that said ‘Don’t come crying to me later.’ The name on the rental contract was ‘Inmitsu Tounoin.’ I thought of an old gentleman with gray hair, but if he was Tounoin’s father he couldn’t be that old. Rent can be paid via bank transfer; so, he’s the son of a banker, I knew he wasn’t a commoner. I’ve got three months’ deposit and money for the key, plus rent for this month and next month thanks to the ‘condolences’ money from the bank —but that’s a small price to pay for luck. “Ah, also I’d like you to get a guarantor.” The agent pointed to a blank space on the contract, “Here’s where your name and address are, please put your seal here.”
“Is it okay if I bring it back in a couple of days?”
“Yes, that’s fine. Here’s the address. Oh, right, you know where it is, don’t you? Now, the key.”
I took the key and asked, “Which bank president is the landlord?”
“Fujimi Bank, sir?” He looked at me like he couldn’t possibly not know the president of a long-established bank in this area.
“Oh… and that’s located in…”
“It’s in Seijo. But I’m the property manager. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me.” It seems that I wouldn’t have a chance to cross paths with Tounoin’s father; I was a little curious what kind of person he is. On my way home, I stopped by Ishida-san’s Mozart.
“Oh, in Tounoin’s building?” He smiled and said, “Well, I’m glad you found a nice place.” He smiled and said, “Since you found an apartment…” he pulled out a cardboard box from under the counter. It was full of sheets, towels, tea bowls, cups, pots and pans… “Kawashima-san is indeed a solid office worker. She made a ‘list of items needed to reconstruct a house’ rather than just gathering donation money, asked people to give their unused items from their houses, and it turned out to be enough for a whole house. That was the idea.”
“She’s going to make a great wife, I’m sure.” She knew that I’d mind if it was money, so she collected practical items. The fish that gets away is always big… “Um, so, could I get some coffee vouchers?”
“You don’t have to give anything back in return.”
“Yes, but I want to give something to Tounoin-san.”
“Oh, I see. So you want some coffee coupons?”
“It’s practical, isn’t it? Please, I’ll take three books of ten vouchers.” Ishida-san smiled a little apologetically; I’m sure that he knows I’m buying them as a way to repay him for the money he gave me when he visited.
“By the way, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Ishida-san stepped up to the counter, changing from owner of Mozart to that of Fujimi caretaker, “For our next piece, why don’t we do Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto?”
“A violin concerto?”
Ishida-san looked around quickly and whispered with conspiratorial enthusiasm, “I got the hall reserved at the Civic Center. There was a cancellation for Sunday, November 27th.”
“So… would it be a regular concert?”
“Not anymore, it would be a proper concert.”
“Oh, are you sure we have enough time to prepare?” Ishida-san nodded smugly as I was leaning over the counter.
“I was thinking that we should do it this year, now that we have Tounoin-san with us. I really wanted to do it after New Year’s, but I heard that the hall would be under renovation from January to May. I happened across that cancellation, so I jumped at the chance even though I was a bit busy.”
“Yes, I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”
“So I thought I’d like to include the Mendelssohn.”
“That sounds great! But… what about the soloist?”
“There’s already one,” Ishida-san pointed at me.
“Me…? I’ll be the soloist?”
“Icchan agrees.” Come on…
“But we’ve never done a piece with a solo before…”
“So that’s why we should do it. It’s good for us to do one once and awhile.”
“But then what about the first violins…”
“We have Goto-chan, Miyake-chan, Kijima-san, Nitta-san, Yoshiko Suzuki-san, Hirota-san… why don’t you ask Haruyama-san to join from the seconds?”
“Then the second violins would be Ichiyama-san, Higashi-san, Hirai-san…”
“Seven people would be enough, right?”
“Yes, in terms of just numbers…” but when it came to balance of competence...
The door chime rang and a group of housewives walked in, and Ishida-san turned to welcome them and prepare some glasses of water. “Well, you should think about it, and discuss it with Tounoin-kun.”
“Yes, I’ve always wanted to do a concerto, but…”
“All the strings were saying that they wanted Morimura-chan to do a solo.”
“Hah...haha.”
—-
On my way home my feet were skipping lightly. ‘We can have a concert, we can have a concert. For the first time in two years, Fujimi can have a concert!’ I ran around the corner, bounded up the stairs and opened the door with my freshly made spare key. The sound of the Brandenburg Concerto hit me, but I was deaf to it today.
“Tounoin! Tounoin! I slid down on my knees in front of him, where he was sitting cross-legged in his usual spot. “We’re having a concert! November 27th!”
Tounoin made a gesture of ‘I can’t hear you, please wait’ and went to stop the music. As soon as the sound stopped, I repeated myself, “A concert has been scheduled! Sunday, November 27th, Shimin Kaikan Hall! Ishida-san was able to get a date because of a cancellation, and asked me if I wanted to play the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto!”
Tounoin looked at me from in front of the console, and I realized that I was very excited in contrast to his calm demeanor. My face flushed. “No, but do you know, it’s been two years since we had a concert.”
“November?” Said Tounoin in a cold voice.
“I know it’s soon, so it’s going to be hard, but it’s at the end of the month… so it’s about three months away, right?
Tounoin’s complexion softened, “It depends on how we do it. I don’t mind.”
“Really? Great…! So…” he glanced at the envelope in my hand.
“Oh, did you get something?”
“I was kind of lucky today, I found an apartment as well.” I pulled the contract out of the envelope, and when I was about to show it to him, I noticed the look in his eyes was somewhat complicated. At once I felt something flutter in my stomach; it was the first time I felt that. “It wasn’t a bad idea to crash here, but it was an emergency situation for both of us. Anyway, the place I got is cheap, well-equipped, and convenient. I’ve already signed the contract.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Tounoin with a deep sigh. If I remained here, it would only cause more suffering… the word ‘Love’ is very similar to the word ‘Strange’...
“Well, actually, I do need a guarantor,” I opened the contract and placed it in front of him. “Would you mind?”
“Yeah, well that’s already...” he said as he picked up the contract with a hand that was trying not to show his reluctance… I froze. I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not, his normally cool, long eyes were round.
“Not bad, huh?” I asked. Tounoin secretly panicked and turned his head, pretending to read the contract.
“...It’s okay, I guess. How much is it?”
“40,000. But it’s only a minute’s walk to the civic center. I think it’s great. Now, why don’t you say something?”
With his head down, Tounoin patted various pockets. Then, “I’ll go get a pen,” he said.
“I’ll also need your seal,” I said, starting to stand up.
“Please stay here,” Tounoin said, “...I’m afraid I’m going to have to hug you.” Then he ran off into the cabin. I laughed, I couldn’t believe that the man who sells himself on his pride and arrogance lost his nerve like that. Just because I happened to get an apartment in the same building as his, that’s all. Then I felt a stinging pain in my heart at the thought. I got up and went into the cabin, but when I saw Tounoin’s back at the kitchen table, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the right to ask him if he wanted to continue being a snake charmer for the rest of our lives, and it’s hypocritical for me to consider his feelings when I made the decision that I wanted to be his friend and nothing more… I pulled another envelope out of my pocket and approached his back.
I was spoiled by his kindness, but that together with when he agreed to give up on pursuing me, for the time being made us even. “And also this. I don’t know if I can thank you enough, but I mean, I feel…” I put the envelope over his shoulder on the table.
He opened it as delicately as if it were a sparrow’s tapestry and froze again, but this time he got over it in an instant. “Thank you, I’ll treat you to Mozart’s coffee for the time being.” He turned around and had put on his poker face… ha, he’s not good at accepting this.
“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be over there to talk about everything until the performance.” Here as well.
“‘I’ll never go out with you for coffee or dinner,’' He said with a smile, reminding me of what I had told him. After all, this was the game between us. I want to make sure that we are friends, and Tounoin wants to develop into lovers. But I won’t be the one to lose.
—-
I woke up in the middle of the night after being kicked twice. The next morning, while Tounoin was making coffee and I was cooking bacon and eggs, I mentioned it to him.
“Well, you stole the blanket twice and gave me an uppercut,” he replied.
“I think even a double bed is too small for two men.”
When I glared at him, he said, “Well, it’s big enough if you’re embracing each other,” and laughed… that was the first time I ever heard Tounoin laugh out loud. The kitchen here is nice and bright. For the one in my apartment, it remains to be seen.
#long post#light novels#bl light novel#light novel translations#fujimi orchestra#fo#yaoi#yaoi novel#Akizuki Koh#Nishi Keiko#kei x yuuki#orchestra#classical music#tw: noncon
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This really made me think. I hope you are enlightened by this as I was at this point of a hard day.
Awsome Conversation between God And a Man. Read it and don’t forget to share it with your friends.
Man: God, can I ask You a question?
😝😳
God: Sure
😌
Man: Promise You won’t get mad …
😒
God: I promise
😌
Man: Why did You let so much stuff happen to me today?
😒
God: What do u mean?
😒
Man: Well, I woke up late
😳
God: Yes
😒
Man: My car took forever to start
😳
God: Okay
😒
Man: at lunch they made my sandwich wrong & I had to wait
😳
God: Huummm
😒
Man: On the way home, my phone went DEAD, just as I picked up a call
😁
God: All right
😒
Man: And on top of it all off, when I got home ~I just want to soak my feet in my new foot massager & relax. BUT it wouldn’t work!!! Nothing went right today! Why did You do that?
😰
God: Let me see, the death angel was at your bed this morning & I had to send one of My Angels to battle him for your life. I let you sleep through that
😊
Man (humbled): OH
😔
GOD: I didn’t let your car start because there was a drunk driver on your route that would have hit you if you were on the road.
😊
Man: (ashamed)
😒
God: The first person who made your sandwich today was sick & I didn’t want you to catch what they have, I knew you couldn’t afford to miss work.
😊
Man (embarrassed): Okay
😒
God: Your phone went dead bcuz the person that was calling was going to give false witness about what you said on that call, I didn’t even let you talk to them so you would be covered.
😊
Man (softly): I see God
😒
God: Oh and that foot massager, it had a shortage that was going to throw out all of the power in your house tonight. I didn’t think you wanted to be in the dark.
😀
Man: I’m Sorry God
👏
God: Don’t be sorry, just learn to Trust Me…. in All things , the Good & the bad.
♨💥
Man: I will trust You.
👏
God: And don’t doubt that My plan for your day is Always Better than your plan.
♨💥
Man: I won’t God. And let me just tell you God, Thank You for Everything today.
♨💥
God: You’re welcome child. It was just another day being your God and I Love looking after My Children…
♨💥
REPOST if you believe in GOD
♨💥
Why Do we feel sleepy in Prayer,
♨
But stay awake through a 3 hour movie?
☀♨
Why are we so bored when we look at the HOLY BOOK,
♨
But find it easy to read other books?
☀♨
Why is it so easy to ignore a msg about God,
♨
Yet we forward the nasty ones?
☀
Why are Prayers getting smaller,
♨
But bars and clubs are expanding?
♨
Why is it so easy to worship a celebrity,
☀♨
But very difficult to engage with God?
💥♨
Think about it, are you going to forward this?
♨💥
Are you going to ignore it, cause you think you will get laughed at?
♨💥
Forward this to all your friends.
♨💥
80% of you won't forward this.
☀💥
When one door closes , God opens two : If God has opened doors for you,
☀💥
send this message to everyone
including me....
Author unknown
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Attitude and Layers (Part 2)
Editor’s Note: For those of you reading this post prior to reading Part 1, posted on November 19th, I encourage you read them in order. It is a story well told. I can almost feel the cold, the joy, the relief. This is a re-post of a story from 2012.
By Natalie ‘Dances with Lizards’ Fisher
44 miles to go. Wake up to fog. White on white. Takes us most of the day to go four miles. Pulling out the GPS often. Having to trust technology. Crossing meadows or open areas with no sign of a trail. The usual dip is covered by a drift. When it gets too slick and steep, we know we’re above it. We don’t like to descend because gaining any elevation is such hard work. Maps, compass, check the GPS, look for blazes, look for the line through the mist.
We get to a low point where the trail hits a jeep road. 2 miles to Hart’s Pass. The next section of trail looks just as, if not more, steep and sketchy as what we just came through. We take the road. One of the only times I actually opt for road rather than trail. Even though it’s easier, walking a road has never been fun, and is still not fun.
38 miles out. Hart’s Pass. Our last exit point. My biggest mental struggle. Getting this far today was brutal. If there had been a warm car, with warm people in it, I don’t think I would’ve had the fortitude to continue. As luck would have it, there is just a bleak campsite. Ranger cabin boarded up for the winter. An outhouse and a couple picnic tables all covered in snow.
Not much discussion. Make a hot drink. Cook some food. All Brr has to say is: ‘If we don’t continue, I’ll regret it.”
Final push. This is our moment.
We continue.
34 miles out. On top of another snow covered mountain. I open up the tent in the morning (for the difficult process of putting trash bags on my feet so I can struggle outside into the cold to pee) and the first words out of my mouth are ‘Oh my God.’
‘What is it?’
‘Look outside!’ The world is stunning. Bright sun. Blue sky. In a small tent on the mountaintops. Surrounded by stoic snow covered ridges and peaks. This is why we’re still out here.
22 miles out. We actually made 12 miles today! There’s a celebration. I have to do a mental shift from “we’ll get as far as we can” to “we’re going to make it!” I can finally let myself believe that I’ll get there.
Canada is now our nearest out.
We are going to make it.
16 miles out. 6 miles today.
I worked for every inch of these six miles. All day and most of the night. For six miles.
Up to Rock Pass, down the other side, up to Woody Pass. We keep switching who breaks trail throughout the day.
We took a break at what we thought was the last switchback up. False summit. Got dark. Fog rolled in again. Took a turn down a wrong trail that was unsigned. We knew we were on a trail. We could see the line. The going was easy, but the ridge was on the wrong side. Kept waiting for a switchback to turn us the right way. GPS again. Turn around.
Wind whipping up. Can’t tell if it’s snowing more or just blowing everything around. Finally at the top of the real pass. Round the corner. Ridge is on the right side. Snow drifts are deep. Postholing up to knees or hips with snowshoes on. Brr’s foot has a bruise from the snowshoes. He switches to spikes and we keep rolling.
Work for every step.
Send a prayer to Mother Nature. Please give us a break.
The wind dies.
No more ice blowing in my eyes. I can see the line of the trail. We slowly follow it across huge drifts. Exhausted. Getting frustrated with everything. Stop for a break, but don’t want to deal with the wind chill, so we don’t cook, and just keep moving.
Finally to the top of Lakeview Ridge. Above 7,000 ft. Everything is downhill from here. But I can’t go on. We cook and try to see if we can get some more energy. But we’re done for the night. We’re supposed to get out tomorrow. We’ve already pushed the rendezvous back one day. But 16 miles might be impossible.
Must sleep. Hope that tomorrow is a better day.
14 miles out. We hit the valley. Took all morning to traverse the ridge, descend the Devil’s Staircase and get down to Hopkins Pass.
We can do this. It’s just 6 more miles to the border. Make spam burritos one last time (my favorite trail food: spam, Idaho potato mix, corn chowder, and cheez-its!), out of tortillas for this one. Ready to go. The snow is light on this stretch of trail, but I keep the snowshoes on to keep from slipping.
3.5 miles to the border. Castle Pass. The world is black and white today. Cloud covered sky, trees so dark green they look black. Snow covered world. A raven flies overhead. We take that as a good omen. We’re flying today. Nothing can stop us now. The only question is if we can get to the border with a little daylight left?
November 18. 5:30 pm. PCT mile 2660. We hit the border. [Almost 8 years to the day ago.]
This monument that I’ve been waiting to see for seven months is right before me.
Not a dream anymore.
I’ve had this image in my head of arriving at the monument. What I would do. What my end picture might be like. How we imagine it, is never how it turns out. It turns out the way it was going to happen all along.
It turns out better than I imagine.
Dark. Victory yells. Running and jumping around like crazy. Disbelief.
I pop open a bottle of champagne that I’ve carried for 80 miles. I can now admit to carrying it. (Otherwise that would have been a bottle quietly drunk in a corner). After all that long journey, I absolutely brought a bottle of champagne along for the last lap.
One more hiker mocha with the last of our coffee and instant breakfast mix. Sitting staring at the monument. This is really the end.
We got each other to the end.
Everything is going to happen fast after this.
8 miles to get out. We have people waiting for us. And we don’t want to camp in the broken tent on cold snow another night.
It starts to snow giant flakes.
Haul it.
8 miles to let it settle in that we’re getting out. That we’ve actually accomplished the goal. That I have to go do something other than walk now.
8 miles to laugh about all the moments. Favorite, worst, most epic, hardest, weirdest, most random.
4 miles out. We just made it up one more pass. To the end it is not easy. Mother Nature never lets it be easy.
Just a little further to our waiting family.
11:30 pm. Manning Park.
Anticipation as we arrive at the road. Then the parking lot. Then the resort. Door is locked. A security guard pulls up right as we’re taking off our packs. ’They were just looking for you. Weren’t sure if you were gonna make it out tonight.’
This is it.
In to warmth. In to waiting arms. In to a shower and a bed.
In to whatever happens next.
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