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percywinchester27 · 4 years

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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-4)

Word count: 4.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam’s POV

The ringing got to the point where Sam reached out and almost flung the phone across the room. It was the first time in over a week that he’d actually managed to fall asleep, that too in the early hours of the morning. Who was even calling this early?

He opened one eye to read the name on the screen and promptly sat up in his bed.

“Dean?” He answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah!” Dean’s voice sounded absolutely normal on the other side, goofy even. “I just woke up super early to go for a walk. For the first time. I thought you’d be proud. It was your idea after all.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Aren’t you always up at five anyway?”

He had a point, but today was not the day.

“If it’s nothing important, I’m going back to bed,” Sam declared. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while.”

“Aren’t you by yourself for like two more weeks? What’s keeping you up now?”

Nightmares, horrors and well, the woman I had loved with all my heart who abandoned me seven years ago?

Sam almost said it. Almost. The words died on his lips, though.

“It’s nothing. I’m just really tired,” he said finally.

“Those guys at work still giving you a hard time?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nobody is giving me a hard time! It was one case and over a year ago. I’m not five. You can’t kick people’s asses for me anymore.”

“Just give me the names.”

Sam laughed. For the first time in a week, the knot in his chest loosening. Maybe that’s what he needed. He should have called his brother sooner.

Dean deserved to know about Y/N. Hell, Sam should have called him the moment he walked out of that classroom. He would have, too, had it not taken him a whole day to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t dreaming to begin with.

That’s where he saw her afterall… She was the part of his worst nightmare. He would be damned though, if she wasn't also the loveliest dream he’d ever dreamt, ever felt.

“Sam?” Dean asked. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

“No.”

“Okay, I lied,” Dean admitted. “I’m not exercising or anything. I just couldn’t fall asleep. I don’t know, man. I had this weird feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right with you.”

Sam held his breath, feeling a strange ache within him. Dean always knew.

“Everything’s alright, Dean.” I am just slowly going insane here.

There was a heavy pause and Sam was almost convinced that Dean could see through his bullshit. When Dean spoke, his voice held a gravity. “If there’s anything, and I mean anything at all, you’ll call me, right?”

“Who else do I even have?” Sam said in a low defeated voice. “Of course I’ll call you.”

“Now you get back in that bed, and sleep your ass off!”

Amazing how his brother could be so insightful one minute and order him around like he was a three year old the next.

“Bye, Dean.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

*click*

Sam fell back into his bed, staring at the perfect beige ceiling. It hadn’t been more than two years since he’d moved in the faculty accoms and what with all that had happened since, he’d never had the time to move out, or even properly look for a better place.

He closed his eyes, knowing perfectly well how pointless it was. Sleep wasn’t going to come… what came instead was the image of her, looking at him with absolute horror from the top row of the lecture hall. And despite everything that had happened, Sam had wanted nothing more than to run across the steps and hold her in his arms. Hold her so tight and never let go.

However, before he could move, she had fled the room, like mirage. Leaving him to question if it had been real at all. Maybe the years had got to him and he was hallucinating. It was the first time in his career that he’d frozen on the dais. And only when someone called his name, had he come back to the now.

In fact, he’d been so sure that it had just been a play of his mind, that he’d left the class promptly and actually verified the student admission list from the administration office.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

After that all he could do was walk back to his house aimlessly.

This couldn’t be happening. What was he going to do? Run back to her? Find her and then what?

Things weren’t the same now. He didn’t know anything about her life anymore.

Then the anger came.

How dare she? How could she have absolutely destroyed him like that and then come waltzing back into his life just when he had managed to put it back together, painfully and piece by piece.

He could go back and take a look at her entire application; know what she had been up to. But would that even matter?

Sam had spent the whole day just sitting by himself in the dark, and even the next. Calls from work, and college be damned. He couldn’t go in there and pretend like he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to rage and riot and ask her why she had left him like that!

But he was more than just a heartbroken man. And he wasn’t twenty five anymore. He had responsibilities now, people who looked up to him. So locking himself up wasn’t an option. He had to face the world, even when he didn’t want to. Especially then.

When he stepped into the room on Friday, he’d made up his mind to not look for her. The eye contact might not mean anything to her, but it just might be his undoing. And after all he had been through, he couldn’t fall apart now. These were his students and they didn’t need to see that.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried at all. Y/N wasn’t there. Had she run off again? Was it really such a bad thing for her to be in the same room as him?

It took him a while to get on track. Knowing that she wasn’t there, did help, made it easier to concentrate, easier to set out the syllabus.

Over the weekend, Sam made a game plan- pretend that she didn’t exist, whether or not she attended classes. If he convinced himself that she was still gone, he could go on with the lecture. After all, he could do it for two hours a day. It shouldn’t have to be that hard.

It was very hard.

She wore purple on Monday, and he’d be damned if he didn’t admit that his heart sped up when he saw her. That one glance was all Sam allowed himself. It took every ounce of his will power to concentrate on what he was speaking.

It did not get any easier as the week passed. Sam did get better at controlling his face, if not his emotions and by Thursday, even managed a few jokes that hit the mark. All the while, he didn’t dare look at her, still not confident that he could handle it. It helped that he was busy with a twisted property matter at work that required multiple trips to the court. It kept him engaged and his mind occupied.

Sam was so ready for the weekend by the time Friday rolled in. One more class and he’d be free of the agony for two more days.

He did not look at her still. He came very close once, when the girl right ahead of her answered a question, but his gaze only lasted long enough to make out that she was wearing beige today.

In the minutes after the class ended, a small group of students gathered around him asking doubts about the topic. It was a somewhat hard concept to understand, and it provided him with further distraction.

Next to them, a commotion caught his eye, A boy was standing on the side of the dias. Right next to him stood Y/N.

“Thank you, but I already have plans for the weekend,” she said, her voice polite.

Sam clenched his fists. The sound of her voice was enough to repeal each and every effort he’d put into remaining fortified through the week.

Her voice was just as soft and kind. Without consciously deciding to, he abandoned the conversation he was having completely to listen to her, yearning more for the sound of her voice like his life depended on it. Another girl had joined Y/N and the boy. Then, Y/N left, without saying anything.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Sam wrenched himself back into the conversation. It was the girl who had answered his question.

“Mr. Winchester, my name’s Rebecca Staten,” she said, leaning close. “What about the internship applications? At Acton Griswold.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. The hiring is all HR, and I have little to no say in it.”

“Oh, but it would be wonderful getting to work with you.”

Sam backed away quickly, grabbing his case and laptop. “I assure you working with me is highly overrated. See you next week!” He concluded and left the class in a hurry.

The moment he was out, the anger returned, at her and himself. She didn’t care about what happened to him, and yet here he was pining after her like a lovestruck teenager. She already had plans, while he spent his evenings in darkness trying to get her out of his head.

Now, Sam lay in his bed, still clutching to his phone even after Dean had long hung up.

It was 5:30 and for once he didn’t feel like stepping out of his bed. Who knew? Maybe the world had some more crap to fling in his face.

Sam closed his eyes remembering the day when he’d first realised what she meant to him.

*******************************

21st July 2006

“If you stayed quiet any longer, I’d have to start worrying,” Dean said, glancing at his brother from the driver’s seat.

“What?” Sam shrugged.

“You know what I’m talking about!”

“You don’t know shit!”

Dean shushed, glancing at a sleeping Jo in the backseat of their car. “She had a rough night,” Dean whispered. “Stop shouting. You’ll wake her up.”

So much concern. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you’re the one to act pricey,” Dean hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s up with you.”

“What’s up with me?”

“It’s that girl, Y/N. Isn’t it?” Dean asked. “You’re worried about her.”

Sam said nothing. What was he going to tell Dean when he himself didn’t know why he was so worried for her.

She had gone mute with shock at first when Jo broke the news to her. Slowly as her face started to crumple, she looked at him once and excused herself to go upstairs. Jo had given him one sympathetic look as he stood there in the middle of their living room, then followed her cousin to the room. He had seen himself out after the maddening urge to run after Y/N, hold her and comfort her had been squished. Afterall, he barely knew her… it wasn’t his place to comfort her in any way… and yet, it had simply felt wrong to walk out of that house knowing she was distraught.

He had been restless since, unable to concentrate on preparation for his interview. Her sweet smile and then the shocked look on her face kept coming back to him, to the point where he regretted not following her to her room. Maybe, just maybe she would have let him help.

Ellen had driven Y/N to her hometown that evening, while Jo had stayed back to look after the diner. Dean, who Sam suspected was more than just sweet on her had been making home calls for leaking sinks and what not.

Now it was his turn to drive her to the funeral. Sam had ridden along without really explaining to either of them… why? He needed to figure that one out for himself first.

“I just- I don’t even know why I’m going there,” Sam said, finally. “I mean, you’re driving your girlfriend. What am I doing?”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t contest the girlfriend part, neither did he make a sarcastic retort.

“You have plenty of time to find out,” Dean said, without taking his eyes off the road.

“She’s just so different,” Sam thought out loud.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Jo said from the back seat. She was up and looked absolutely exhausted. “It’s so hard to get through to her.”

“What do you mean?”

Jo stretched her arms and ran her hands down her dress, trying to smoothen it. “I have never been close to her,” she said. “After my aunt and her husband died in the crash, Y/N went to stay with her grandmother. She visited us once in three years or so but never stayed for more than a week. She has always been quiet. Even as a kid she was polite and soft spoken. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her well enough, but I kinda dreaded her visits cause each time she came, mom would have a mini complex over how well-behaved she was and I was a mess.”

Dean chuckled, finding that funny for some reason.

“I love having her over now, though. And I get why she’s been so grown up. Her gran was pretty awesome. She took care of Y/N sure, but Y/N had to take care of her, too. Had to be sincere and not trouble the old lady. Her gran called her ‘the little ray of sunshine.’

Seemed apt enough to Sam. He’d rather die than admit to his brother and Jo, but there was this light that Y/N seemed so full of, that he couldn’t get enough of.

Sam shook his head, dispelling the insane thought, embarrassed.

“This, Y/N,” Dean asked, “She has anyone else?”

In the rear-view mirror, Sam saw Jo shaking her head sadly.

“It’s just us now. I bet mom’s tried to get her to move in with us… but Y/N doesn’t budge. We’ve tried to get her to move here plenty of times.”

“But that meant she’d have had to leave her grandmother,” Sam said. “She wouldn’t have then. What’s stopping her now?”

“Self-respect,” Jo said the word like it was dubious.

Sam understood this better than Jo. The feeling that you were causing discomfort to others, that you were a burden… your existence, an obligation.

Bobby had loved him and Dean like his own kids and Karen had been so sweet, but deep down he and his brother always knew the sacrifices they’d had to make to raise two boys. Cutting the edges to make the ends meet. It had been the reason that the moment Dean was old enough, he’d moved out, pulling Sam with him. And Sam couldn’t have been prouder of his brother. They both missed Bobby and Karen, and the love and warmth, but, at least Bobby didn’t have to break his back overworking now. He could kickback a little and enjoy some privacy with his wife.

Dean was staring straight ahead. From the set of his mouth and the intensity of his eyes, Sam could make out the shift in his brother. A newfound respect for Y/N because of the luxury she had given up for the sake of her grandmother.

When Dean spoke, he confirmed it for Sam. “So, Y/N is by herself now?”

Y/N… and not ‘that girl.’

“It’s just awful,” Jo said angrily. “Y/N loved her gran more than anyone in the world. I don’t know how she’s going to get over this.” Then her voice steeled. “We’re not going to listen to her this time. She can’t live in that crap town by herself. She’ll have to move in with us now.”

“Won’t be that hard to convince her,” Sam added, “She’ll get her acceptances in a month or so and by fall she’ll be off to wherever anyway. It’ll be a matter of a few months. You can press that.”

“Yeah,” Jo said slowly, giving Sam a scrutinising look, like it was slowly dawning to her just how much he knew.

Sam cleared his throat and looked out of the window.

Jo pointed the directions to the church when they reached the town and Dean found the perfect parking spot. Sam adjusted his coat as he stepped inside the Church. The funeral was being held in the side room, and almost everyone from the small-ish town seemed to be there. Jo disappeared into the crowd immediately trying to find Ellen, and after a look to make sure that Sam was alright, Dean followed her.

This left Sam all by himself in a funeral full of strangers.

A few elderly women gave him a once over, trying to place him, and Sam moved away quickly, guessing that the family would be up ahead.

“... poor girl… I don’t know what else he has to live for now…”

Sam halted at the words.

Two middle aged women were talking to each other. The second one scoffed lightly. “Literally. Old Gertrude didn’t really own a fortune to leave behind. Just the old house and a now useless bakery. That girl can’t bake to save her life, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!” The first woman said, “That child’s distraught!”

“She’s no child,” said the other woman, whom Sam was beginning to hate, “She’s eighteen. At her age I was married to my Robert and little Jonathan was already on his way. Besides, she’s a jinx, don’t you think? Got her parents killed when he was a child and now…”

Sam walked away as fast as he could before he said something in anger that he would regret later.

At the very front, on the podium was a close casket. People moved slowly making hushed conversations around it. At the foot of the casket, next to the rows of chairs stood Ellen, in a sharp, black skirt and jacket, talking to a man in low voice. On the first two chairs sat Jo, Dean beside her. She seemed to be wiping her tears while Dean held her hand.

Sam’s eyes scanned the milling crowd. Y/N was nowhere to be seen amongst them. He looked at the aisle and then at the chairs, finally spotting her on the last chair of the second row, sitting by herself, staring blankly ahead. Then, he noticed the little things… how people were looking at her and then averting their gaze. The expression on her face wasn’t exactly sorrow… it was the look a person’s face might hold after they had lost everything they had. Everything. Just looking at her filled Sam’s heart with dread. Those who wanted to meet her were unable to because Ellen strategically blocked the path to get to her. She’d engage them in a small talk and then they’d go away.

Sam cut across the line of chairs in the 5th row and reached the edge of the hall. The chairs had been arranged in a way that there was little no space left to walk, but Sam managed, flattening himself against the wall and inching towards where Y/N was sitting. He walked right past her to the seat beside her, but she didn’t notice, she didn’t even blink, just stared fixedly at the mural of wreathed flowers over the casket.

“Y/N?” he said quietly, and she startled out of it, unseeing at first, then realising that he was there.

“Sam.”

Her voice was thick and so unsteady that it broke Sam’s heart.

All he wanted to do was reach out and hug her, comfort her in anyway that he could. For now, he placed his hand over hers, something he had done before, so it wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.

“Sam,” she whispered again, gripping his hand tightly with her other. Tight enough to hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” he said fervently, feeling helpless at her pain. “Tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked lost, her Y/E/C eyes flitting from his face to the side and back again. She was about to say something, but at the very moment the pastor called for attention. They were moving the casket. The pastor gestured to everyone to begin moving towards the cemetery. Over his shoulder, Sam could see Ellen giving him a curious look and she wasn’t the only one. There were so many pairs of prying and questioning eyes. To the point where Sam began to doubt whether Y/N would want to be seen with him. However, she held on to his hand steadily as she rose. He stood up with her.

Y/N did not let go of his hand even as they walked to the churchyard, and Sam stopped giving a single care about what anyone was thinking. Her hold on him was steady, but her fingers still shook and her other hand was clutching the fabric of her plain grey dress tightly.

The pastor asked her if she had any last words to say for her grandmother. Y/N resolutely shook her head and they lowered the casket into the earth. People walked up to her to offer condolences, hugs and words of kindness, and she nodded in acknowledgement, eyes cast downwards.

Sam wondered how it looked to others. Did she appear to be a graceful image of grief? Elegant in her sorrow? Or whatever crap the crazy writers were writing these days. To him the shiver of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest was very clear... very there! She wasn’t some beautiful, solitary figure of sadness, she was a person, breathing and living, who was barely keeping it together.

Ellen was the last to hug her, tightly. Sam had to let go for her hand.

“It’ll be alright, Darling,” Ellen said, stroking her Y/H/C hair. “It might not feel like it now, but things will be fine.”

No they wouldn’t. Things would never be fine, Sam knew. Not the fine that Y/N was used to… She’d just learn to live around the hollow of her missing Gran. One day at a time she’d get used to living like this… and that would become her new fine.

Jo hugged the two of them behind and Y/N closed her eyes, damp now, returning the hug tightly.

Almost everyone but Sam, Dean, Jo, Ellen and Y/N had gone back to the church for the dinner.

“Do you want to go inside?” Ellen asked, when she finally disentangled herself.

Y/N shook her head. “I’d like to stay here for a while.”

Ellen looked unsure but she nodded. “I’ll be inside. You’ll come find me?”

Y/N nodded gratefully.

“Okay then.”

Jo kissed her cousin on the cheek and left with her mother.

Dean walked over to Y/N, his step somewhat hesitant. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents as a child,” he said quietly. So quietly that Sam could barely hear it. “And I know what it’s like to live your life for just that one person who is left behind with you-” he gaze flickered towards Sam- “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. God knows I’d not want to live for a minute if something happened to- happened to Sammy.”

She looked up, a spark of fear in her eyes. Her whole frame jerked. Dean was taken aback just for a split second before an understanding look dawned on his face. Sam didn’t recognise even a bit of what had just passed between them.

He was even more surprised when all of a sudden Dean opened his arm and Y/N let him hug her briefly.

He might have whispered something, or it might have been nothing at all, but when he let go, she held on to his sleeve.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her eyes brimming now, tears starting to flow earnestly for the first time.

“You look after yourself now,” Dean said gently. “I’ll see you inside.”

He clapped Sam on the shoulder and after casting one long look at her, Sam turned to leave with his brother.

“Sam!”

Her voice was stronger now, and no sooner had she uttered the words, he was moving to be next to her.

“Will you… will you stay with me?” She asked, eyes expectant, and beyond anguished.

“Of course,” he said breathlessly.

He looked back to ask his brother to leave, but Dean was already at the gate of the churchyard, walking further away.

The sun was setting against the horizon in front of them, and the chill in the air was beginning to settle. Y/N rapped her arms around herself. Sam remembered the first time he had seen her do that, outside the bar. He would have shrugged out of his coat had Y/N not unfolded her wrap and thrown it over her shoulders. She leaned towards him, and as if it was the most natural thing to do, Sam wrapped one arm around her shoulder, drawing her close against his side. He let her borrow whatever warmth she needed on this cold, cruel evening.

“Sam,” Y/N said after a while. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He didn’t reply, simply ran his hand over the side of her arm, as they stood silently in front of the freshly covered grave.

*******************************

Sam opened his eyes, almost smelling the air from that evening, almost feeling the heat of her body. Then sighed.

He needed to stop doing this to himself. Some might say it would have been easier to forget it all. Sam didn’t believe in that. He’d revisited the memories that meant so much to him over and over, till he remembered the last detail, till he could go relive them at his beck and call.

Of course they brought a boat load of pain, even the good memories, but Sam considered it a good bargain, all things considered. He hadn’t wanted to live a day where he couldn’t remember the precise colour of her eyes, or the sweet shyness of her smile.

And now precisely this habit of his was screwing him over when the real Y/N was right in front of him, and he couldn’t reach out to touch her like he could in the memories.

Then again, the real Y/N didn’t care for him one way or another.

Sleep wasn’t going to come purely because it was a Saturday. Lying around in bed was pointless. He rolled over in the bed and his eyes fell on the photo on his night stand.

Looking at the picture, the loneliness hit afresh. The person in the photo had become his sole reason to live as a functional human for the past two years. Sam missed those arms around his neck more than he could put into words. The missing was so bad, that it almost twisted his guts.

“Two more weeks,” he reminded himself. Two more weeks and he could see that face, that dimpled smile again. It was his reason to smile.

He placed a kiss on the frame and got out of the bed. Better to be productive than mope around all day. And who knew, if he managed to get busy, maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t think about Y/N.

*******************************

A/N 2: So now that we something about Sam. What are y’all thinking? ;)

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nerianasims · 4 years

Text

Billboard #1s 1984

Under the cut.

Yes -- "Owner of a Lonely Heart" -- January 21, 1984

The full version of this song is way too long. Not surprising from a former prog rock band. The music is good and interesting, but it loses me before the end even in the shorter single version. There's too much stuff. As for the lyrics, maybe that prog rock gloss made people think they were profound, but they look like self-help. Some incredibly 80s Reagan-era individualism, better to be alone than to be hurt, you're the only one you can count on, blah blah blah. Not for me. 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Culture Club -- "Karma Chameleon" -- February 4, 1984

The video to this song has nothing to do with it, unless there's supposed to be a connection between the con artist on the fantasy world 19th century steamboat and the guy who keeps coming and going whom Boy George is singing to. And I didn't fully realize the "you come and go" double entendre until just now. I like the video, anyway. And I like the song quite a bit. It's a very cheerful-sounding song about being strung along by some asshole.

Van Halen -- "Jump" -- February 25, 1984

Van Halen was something boys were into. It's weird how we delineate these things. At least back in 1984, if it got coded as a boy thing, then if you were a girl and also found it interesting, you'd damn well better hide it or certain other more socially powerful kids would tear you to shreds. That was my experience, anyway. (And if other girls were into it and you were not, you were also in serious trouble.) So though when I heard Van Halen songs I thought, "hm, I'm intrigued," I did not dare pursue that interest. Except for this song. This one was allowed. It's fun.

Kenny Loggins -- "Footloose" -- March 31, 1984

Footloose is a pretty good movie. At least I remember it being so when I eventually saw it in college in the 90s. Anything that stands against censorship, and for art and people having fun, already has an in with me. Also Kevin Bacon's great. The song isn't about the movie particularly; it's just about how dancing is wonderful. Though there is a hint at the movie: "You're playing so cool/ Obeying every rule/ Deep way down in your heart/ You're burning yearning for some/ Somebody to tell you/ That life ain't passing you by/ I'm trying to tell you/ It will if you don't even try." Yeah. Agatha Christie at one point lamented that young people in the 1950s were far too serious and self-righteous, and really needed to go dance in fountains. I feel the same now as she did then. Though wait until after the covid vaccine's been widely taken. Anyway, this is a good dance song.

Phil Collins -- "Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)" -- April 21, 1984

It's a lament about being dumped. Apparently, Collins wrote it about his wife leaving him out of the blue, taking the kids and the dog with her. Ouch. There's a great drum part, which keeps the song from being too boring, but I still don't like it. Phil Collins' serious love/heartbreak songs don't do it for me. I find this one depressing without being cathartic.

Lionel Richie -- "Hello" -- May 12, 1984

I remember this video from when it was on the air. Mostly because of the Lionel Richie clay head. But also because I was like... is she his student? Isn't that a bad thing? Even though she's an adult in college, I still thought you weren't supposed to do that? I've had a major squick against teacher/student relationships, even in fiction, since I was a kid. Possibly this is because I come from a family of professors. (I didn't get a PhD and am therefore the black sheep.) Without reference to the video, the song is terrible. The lyrics are just repetitive cheese, whatever, but the song is so slow and blah and I don't like Lionel Richie's singing.

Deniece Williams -- "Let's Hear It For the Boy" -- May 26, 1984

I keep being surprised that there are people who think someone is worthless if they don't have a lot of money and don't dress fashionably. In this song, the titular boy also can't dance, but is that a thing that people get dinged for in reality? I don't know, maybe. This song was in Footloose, and it's the same sentiment as "My Guy"; her boy isn't some smooth-talking rich brat, but "he's my lovin' one-man show." He's like Edward Ferrars, not Willoughby. It's a fun song.

Cyndi Lauper -- "Time After Time" -- June 9, 1984

This is one of the greatest songs ever. Not just pop songs. Any song, of any type.

Duran Duran -- "The Reflex" -- June 23, 1984

These lyrics make no sense. That doesn't matter for this song much, which is all about the music. Which is not the best of Duran Duran's music. For all the many, many, MANY different musical ideas in it, it's actually kinda boring. They'd have done better to simplify. I imagine this sounds something like cocaine feels, though drinking way too many Mountain Dews to pull an all-nighter's my only comparison. Duran Duran were never my favorite, but I do enjoy many of their songs. This one, meh.

Prince -- "When Doves Cry" -- July 7, 1984

Prince only two songs after Cyndi Lauper? Is it my birthday? The song's lyrics start out being about the amazing chemistry between the narrator and "you." That establishes why they're together. Then Prince moves on to how they "scream at each other," and it's what it sounds like "when doves cry." He's accusatory -- "How could you just leave me standing/ Alone in a world so cold?" But then he goes right into thinking maybe it's his fault: "Maybe I'm just too demanding" etc. It's a sexy, thoughtful, and anguished song about a relationship in trouble. I like to think they'll overcome their problems and stop screaming at each other. Trust me, it's very possible. Also the music is great.

Ray Parker Jr. -- "Ghostbusters" -- August 11, 1984

Um. I have no idea how to evaluate this one. I heard it first in the theatre when I saw the movie, but I heard it years after every week when I watched the cartoon. It just... is.

Tina Turner -- "What's Love Got To Do With It" -- September 1, 1984

I have an overwhelming memory of hearing this song when I was alone in the grocery store as a teenager. I have no idea why the memory's so strong. Maybe it was the first time I went to the grocery store by myself? Maybe I ran into a guy I had a huge crush on, though I don't remember that? (If I was 16, that could have been one of any three guys... Romance is my secondary aspiration, after all.) In any case, it's a good song. The attempt to pretend love is a bunch of chemicals and doesn't truly matter is a pretty common one for the broken-hearted. And Tina Turner's great as always.

John Waite -- "Missing You" -- September 22, 1984

Two songs in a row about being in denial over matters of love. Interesting. This isn't the most fascinating song ever, but it's a good solid song about heartbreak that isn't gloopy at all. In the main vocals, Waite keeps insisting "I ain't missing you," but in the background is a soft voice that sings "missing you" over and over. That's a smart artistic move.

Prince and the Revolution -- "Let's Go Crazy" -- September 29, 1984

I liked a lot of pop music when I was 7, but I didn't get Prince. His songs sort of slid out of my brain as a "thing for grownups," and who could understand grownups? He was short and wore fancy outfits, and that's about all that registered. When I hit puberty, though... yeah. This song is more adult than that, though, and I don't mean sexually, though there is plenty of sex in this song. "You better live now/ Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door." The song is about sex, partying, and death. Also Prince was an astonishing guitarist, along with everything else. It's not one of my favorite Prince songs, because the lyrics are pretty depressing and it's super loud, but it's still great.

Stevie Wonder -- "I Just Called To Say I Love You" -- October 13, 1984

I never really listened to the background beep-de-boops in this song before. I've wondered before why this song, with its simple lyrics and melody, didn't bore me. It's the beep-de-boops. They, along with Stevie Wonder's perfect delivery, make this song musically complex. And the simple lyrics, with the more complex musical counterpoints, absolutely work. It helps that this is the kind of thing people really do.

Billy Ocean -- "Caribbean Queen" -- November 3, 1984

That heavy breathing after the line "I get so excited just from her perfume" is unfortunate. Otherwise, it's a song about how he met this "Caribbean Queen" on vacation and she "tamed" him so he's no longer looking for "love on the run." Sure, why not. I'd like a little more story to it, but that's me. It's got a good beat though, and is enjoyable enough as-is.

Wham! -- "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" -- November 17, 1984

I just realized I don't like this song. The beat and hook are sort of irresistible, and as a dance song the music absolutely works. But there's too much nostalgia about stuff that George Michael actually wasn't old enough to be nostalgic about. He was only 21 at the time, born in 1963, and yet he was singing about Doris Day. You can homage anything at any age, but... meh. And speaking of age, it's kind of a childish song and George Michael's voice was always more on the mature end, even if he was young at the time. For me, it hits a jarring note.

Daryl Hall & John Oates -- "Out of Touch" -- December 8, 1984

The beginning makes it sound like this is gonna be a relatively hard rock song, but that ends after a pretty short time. It's still really loud, with huge drums, and Hall pretty much shouts the song. Hall & Oates were great when they stripped stuff down. All this noise doesn't work for them. There are neat parts when all the noise suddenly stops and there's total silence, but then it goes right back to the rather uninteresting loudness. Not for me.

Madonna -- "Like A Virgin" -- December 22, 1984

And so it begins. Backstory: Madonna went to the same high school as my mother. She was friends (maybe more? he won't talk) with one of my uncles. When my grandmother saw the Like A Virgin album on the rack at the store, she said, "I'm so glad [he] didn't marry that girl." When my mother told me that, my reaction was "Are you kidding? We'd be rich!" But my family cares about PhDs and not money. My uncle ran wild in high school, but eventually became a successful career diplomat (and stopped being a jackass) after the woman he was in love with told him he'd better shape up or else. Also he looks a lot like Guy Ritchie, so that was weird for a while. I'd be in the grocery store and for a second think, "Why's my uncle on The Enquirer with Madonna?"

So anyway, the song. The way Madonna sang it in later iterations, I like it. I can't stand the version that became a #1 hit. The Betty Boop voice is just ugh. I love a lot of Madonna's music, and she would be something of an inspiration to me in later days, with her unapologetic persona as a woman who liked and wanted sex -- and enjoyed shocking the censorious -- but I was 8 at the time. I didn't get any of it, I just knew she sounded squeaky in this song and it bugged me.

BEST OF 1984: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. WORST OF 1984: "Hello" by Lionel Richie

#billboard number ones

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smkkbert · 4 years

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Last Wish (6/13)

Oliver feels like his life is crumbling when his best friend reveals that she is sick. Desperate to help her through the toughest time of her life, Oliver puts all his energy in fulfilling the wishes on Felicity’s bucket list. His hardest challenge - Felicity’s last wish on the list is getting married.

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

* * *

Chapter 7: Overwhelmingness

Sitting behind his desk, Oliver tapped the end of his pen against the top of the table repeatedly. It created an annoying noise that Oliver would like to switch off, but he couldn’t stop tapping the end of his pen against the table. He needed that movement to deal with his nervousness as his eyes were glued to the framed photo that was sitting on the edge of the desk. It had been there for years, but it had almost become invisible at one point. He hadn’t paid much attention to it because he had taken it for granted, just like everything the photo stood for.

Oliver dropped his pen to the top of the table and grabbed the photo. Leaning back, he looked at the photo more thoroughly. It had been taken in July before Thea had died. He and Felicity had been in California to hike together. That day, it had been incredibly hot and they had barely made it to their destination, but they had succeeded at last. They had taken a selfie then, smiling at each other while their arms were wrapped around each other.

Looking even more closely, Oliver could see the love in his own eyes. There was a deep joy there that came right from his heart, and everything about him showed how much the woman in his arms meant to him. Back then, he had been so deeply in love with Felicity already. Through the years, it had never become less. It had only grown into more and more. He just hadn’t been ready to admit it to himself and now it was too late.

No matter how much he had tried to push the memories away, he saw the scene that had happened two days ago flashing in front of his eyes again and again. When he closed his eyes, he was felt himself being caught in that horrible moment again. It was why he didn’t dare to close his eyes anymore. He felt haunted enough by what had happened already.

Felicity had looked so helpless when she had collapsed. She had lost all control about herself, and all he had been able to do was stand back and watch. He hadn’t been able to help her.

It had only taken eight minutes until the ambulance had arrived, but it had felt like an eternity. Every second really had been an eternity of its own. Felicity had had trouble breathing since the seizure must have affected her muscles of respiration too. It had almost felt like she was dying right there. He had never been more afraid.

Once the paramedics had arrived, her condition had been stabilized rather quickly. She had been unconscious, but she hadn’t cramped anymore. They had taken her to the hospital, and, since he was her fiancé, he had been allowed to come with them. In the hospital, another period of waiting had started until Oliver had been allowed to see her eventually.

Being Felicity’s fiancé had already paid off. He had been allowed to go with her to the hospital, and he had been allowed to see her although the doctor had said that she needed a lot of rest. He had stayed with her the entire night, just holding her hand and watching her sleep. That way, he had been there when she had woken up. He had been the first she had seen when she had woken up.

Oliver closed his eyes for a long moment and took some deep breaths. He knew that he had to focus on the only thing that mattered now and that was that Felicity was already doing a lot better. Her doctor had checked her through thoroughly and prescribed her some pills that should help to prevent such seizures in the future. She could come back home in a couple of days, but the doctor – Oliver couldn’t remember her name – wanted to use the chance of having Felicity in the hospital to do some more tests. He had eventually convinced Felicity to do it.

He should be with her, Oliver thought for the umpteenth time since he had left her hospital room a couple of hours ago. He shouldn’t have left, no matter how much energy Felicity had put into convincing him to go home. Of course she had been right when she had told him that he needed some rest too, and sleeping in an uncomfortable chair two nights in a row was not going to be good for his back.

The moment he had closed the door behind him, Oliver had already felt like he shouldn’t be doing it. He shouldn’t leave her, but he had been too tired to fight her on it once more. The hours he had spent worrying about her had just left him physically and emotionally exhausted.

Felicity’s condition was going to become better. She was not going to be okay, but she was going to recover from the seizures.

With a long sigh, Oliver put his elbows to the desk and dropped his face into his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut. Although he could see Felicity’s wide eyes looking at him with panic once more, Oliver kept them squeezed shut. Taking in some deep breaths, Oliver breathed against the memories. They didn’t disappear, but they felt a lot less threatening.

Felicity couldn’t die. Not yet. He needed more time. He hadn’t had a chance to make all her wishes come true. He had promised he to make them happen, but how was he going to do that if that much time was taken from him?

“She needs to be okay,” Oliver whispered, “I need more time. So much more time.”

He repeated the words again and again, feeling the words overwhelming him as he started processing their meaning. He would never have enough time with Felicity. Even if they got the months that the doctor had promised her when he had diagnosed her with cancer, it wasn’t enough. No span of time could possibly be enough to prepare himself of losing her.

By the time a low knock occurred from the door, tears were streaming down Oliver’s face. He wiped them away quickly before he took in a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“Yes?”

The door open, and Oliver almost expected Raisa to stick her head into his room and ask if he wanted some hot chocolate and a midnight snack. Of course she would have already prepared it, so she would come in and put the small tray onto his desk. Then she would smile at him warmly until he opened up to her. When he had been younger, something like this had happened rather often.

Tonight, it wasn’t Raisa, who was paying him a visit though. Instead, his mother opened the door and flashed him a warm smile. The rare image of seeing his mother without any make-up and dressed in her nightgown and a dressing gown surprised him almost more than the fact that his mother was visiting so late in the night itself. In his entire life, Oliver remembered seeing his mother like this maybe five times.

“Hello, Oliver.”

Moira tried to hide it behind a light tone of voice, but Oliver knew that she could see the remains of the tears on his cheeks. Tightening the belt of her dressing gown around her waist, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind herself. Oliver wasn’t sure if she wanted to make sure his dad wasn’t going to wake up or if she wanted to shut out his loud snoring. Even a closed door couldn’t do much against that though.

“You are up late,” Oliver said quietly, “I thought you were already asleep.”

“We were.” Moira sighed. “I just wanted to grab some water. When I saw the light, I wanted to check if everything was alright. I didn’t think you’d come home tonight.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “Felicity wanted to sleep and told me to go home because I couldn’t do anything for her as long as she was asleep anyway. She said it was better if I came back tomorrow morning, once I had tanked some energy too. We were both too exhausted to fight the other, so I just agreed to it. I didn’t want Felicity to waste her energy on a fight. I will get up early tomorrow morning and bring her some breakfast.”

“That she is probably not going to eat.”

“Yeah,” Oliver replied with a sigh and nodded his head, “probably.”

Felicity’s lack of appetite was another thing that worried him a lot. She had so little energy as the cancer was sucking it right out of her body it seemed. That she wasn’t eating much didn’t help either. She needed vitamins and proteins and all that other stuff to help her through the exhausting days.

Grabbing the list of things that he had to organize and do in the next days, he added Finding Felicity some yummy food to the list. Lately, she was only eating to do him or Raisa a favor. Maybe if he found something that she was actually hungry for, she’d eat a little bit more than the few bites she was getting down every day.

“Is everything okay?”

“I am thinking about Felicity’s wishes.”

He waved with his to-do list. When Moira stepped closer and reached out her hand for it, Oliver hesitated before he handed it to her. Not saying a word, he just waited for her to say something. His mother took her time to read it thoroughly though, nodding her head slightly.

“You have quite some work ahead of yourself,” she said eventually, putting the list back down, “and all that in addition to the wedding preparations though it might be better to put them on hold with how Felicity-“

“No,” Oliver said firmly, “it’s quite the opposite. We have to put even more effort into making this wedding happen as soon as possible now. It’s the cherry on top of making all the other wishes come true.”

“How is it going on that front?”

While Oliver leaned back in his chair with a sigh, his mother sat down on the armrest of one of the armchairs. She was looking at him closely, but there was patience in her eyes too. She didn’t want to force him to tell her anything. She wanted to know, but she was okay if he told her that he couldn’t tell her.

“I only made three wishes happen so far,” Oliver said eventually, figuring it was best to tell his mother something, “and two are in the making. There is just not enough time to make all of it work, and I don’t want to waste too much time away. I want to be with Felicity, but I can’t do that if I have to organize that much.”

“You know that your father and I will support you in whatever way you need us to, right?” Moira’s voice left no doubt that she meant it. “We will do whatever we can do to help you with this or anything really. We-“

“Thank you,” Oliver interrupted his mother and had to clear his throat as the emotions were making his voice sound husky, “but I want to do this on my own. This my gift to Felicity.”

Moira nodded her head slightly. Something in her eyes told Oliver that she had something more to say, but she wasn’t sure if or how she should say it. Since Oliver was sure that she’d say it sooner or later anyway, he perked up his eyebrows.

“I am sure that Felicity won’t be angry with you if you don’t make all of these wishes come true. She certainly appreciates the offer, but I think that it’s even more important for her that you are here with her.”

Oliver lowered his gaze to the table. He knew that his mother was right. Felicity needed someone to lean on. She shouldn’t feel alone because she had been or felt alone for too long already. She needed to know that he was there every step of the way. He would never leave her, no matter how bad things would get.

When his mother put her hand to his shoulder, Oliver lifted his gaze towards her. She was looking at him the same way that she had been looking at him the day that his hamster had died. Telling unwanted truth was not her strength.

Just when Moira opened her mouth to say something, Oliver brushed off her hand and straightened back up on the chair.

“I have to do this for her,” he insisted, “because I promised her, and I will never break a promise, at least not one that I have given to her.”

“Why?”

Oliver frowned. “Why what? Why don’t I just give up and, with that, break a promise I have made to my best friend?”

“No, why do you want to do this?” Moira asked. “It’s not just for the promise you have made.”

For the break of a second, Oliver wondered if offence was the best defense and he should be a little petulant. He knew what his mother was aiming for. He knew where she wanted to take this conversation. Oliver just didn’t want to follow her on that area. He didn’t want to talk about this, not now and not with her.

Oliver knew that his mother would only feel like she was on the right track and try digging a little deeper. He couldn’t have that. He didn’t have the energy to fight with her either.

“Oliver.”

His voice was only a low whisper. It was so soft, but Oliver felt himself building thick walls around himself. Whatever his mother wanted to say now, he didn’t want to hear it because she’d hit the bullseye easily.

“Oliver,” his mother said once more, and Oliver scrambled up all his courage to look at he, “no matter what you do, nothing can prevent Felicity from dying.”

Oliver held his breath, knowing that, if he did as much as taking in the slightest breath of air, he’d start crying and he wouldn’t be able to stop. He wasn’t ready to do that. He wanted to be alone again, so he could get lost in his thoughts for another couple of hours until he could grab some food for Felicity and go visit her in the hospital again.

“What you are doing is honorable,” his mother continued eventually, “but it’s not going to change how this sickness will end for her. You are doing a wonderful job at making this last time better for her, but there is no way around the truth. You have to face it – the sooner, the better. Felicity is going to die.”

No matter how often he had thought that he had finally really got it, it just hit him again. After everything that had happened in the past hours, Oliver had been on the verge of breaking down already. The vehemence of his mother’s words hit him all the harder. With a deep sob, he dropped his face into his hands.

“She can’t die.”

Oliver knew that it was stupid because he knew that he really had no power about it. Still, the thought just killed him. Losing Felicity would just hurt too much. It was going to rip away the ground he was standing on. How was he going to cope?

“Oh, my beautiful boy.”

His mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and leaned her cheek against the back of his head. She swayed him from side to side slightly, almost like she was seeing her baby boy in him right now and wanted to rock him into sleep like she had certainly done when he had been a baby. Oliver hesitated before he leaned back into her touch and let her hold him like that.

“I can’t live without Felicity.”

Moira tightened her arms around Oliver, holding him even closer to her. Even through his pain, Oliver realized how heavy his words must weigh on her. Moira had lost one child already. Knowing that the woman that she had learned to love as a part of the family in the last years was going to die and that her death was going to take a lot of his will to live had to be hard on her. With her experience in losing a child, a sentence like that had to scare her.

Oliver would take it back if he didn’t think that it was so very true. Lying wouldn’t be fair. At least this way, his parents were prepared when all of his will to live faded once Felicity had died.

“I know that Felicity helped you after Thea’s death. She helped all of us.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without her.”

“I know,” his mother said once more and kissed the crown of his head, “she has been such a great support for all of us. She has been exactly what we needed after we have lost Thea, and we never really got a chance of thanking her the way we should have done. I don’t know what your father and I would have done without her either.”

Oliver nodded his head, knowing that his mother was right. They had needed Felicity and her sunny mind too. The entire family had needed her because Felicity, as different as she was from Thea, brought the same sunny and joyful mind.

“Felicity will be missed dearly by all of us.”

Again, Oliver nodded his head because he knew it was true. His parents wouldn’t have agreed to have Felicity live with them and they wouldn’t have put so much time into making sure she was comfortable here if it was any different. Maybe his parents could hide their grief more or they weren’t yet experiencing it.

Either way, Oliver knew that Felicity was going to leave a void in the Queen Family that couldn’t be filled.

“But of course I know that it will be even worse for you.” Moira made a meaningful pause. “Given how much you love Felicity.”

Oliver pulled out of his mothers embrace to look at her. Wiping his tears away, he considered brushing it off. A single glance into his mother’s face told him everything he needed to know though. All denying would be hopeless because she knew the truth. She had probably known it for a long time already.

“I love her, mom.”

Moira nodded her head and took his hand between both of hers. Comforting him with that touch, she just waited for him to say more.

“I have loved her for so long, but it took me forever to find the courage to tell her.” Oliver took in a trembling breath, feeling a wave of relief streaming through him. Telling someone what he felt for Felicity or even just saying it out loud finally gave him the liberty to really breathe through again. “When I finally did, it was completely overshadowed by Thea’s death.”

“So you told Felicity what you feel for her?”

“No,” Oliver replied, shaking his head, “I wanted to tell her the night Thea died. Then I got that call that Thea was in the hospital and-“

Oliver shook his head, wordlessly saying that it had all gone to shit after that. He hadn’t been able to tell her what he had been feeling after that. Thea’s death had overshadowed everything. He would have been no good as a boyfriend at that time.

Looking back, Felicity had had him around her neck as it had been. Whether she had stood by him as a girlfriend or his best friend had probably not made much of a difference. She had been the one he had called when he had needed her, no matter what time of the day. She had been the one he had told everything to. She had been his rock.

The only difference was that he had missed out on all the kisses and declarations of love that he might have needed more than ever at that time.

“We will never get a chance of being more than friends and weirdly married friends though. We will never get a chance at really being together.”

Oliver hated himself for the fact that he hadn’t realized how urgently he had needed to tell Felicity about his feelings for her. These past months, he had been a lot better. He had almost been back to his old self. It would have been the perfect time to tell Felicity that he loved her. He couldn’t possibly tell her now.

“Why do you think it’s too late?”

Oliver chuckled almost dryly. “Have you met Felicity lately?”

“To me, she is still the same person she has been since I met her.”

“Of course she is.” Oliver frowned, finally realizing what his mother was thinking saying that. “Do you really think that, just because Felicity is sick, she means less to me? Do you think that I cannot see who she is because of the tumor?”

Moira narrowed her eyes at him slightly. She looked like a mother who was now checking up the guy that wanted to date her daughter. That was how much Felicity meant to her. She wanted to protect her and her heart, even if it was against her own son.

“Do you see her through the disease?”

“Of course I do,” Oliver said, his chest swelling with the need to tell Felicity how he felt about her, “Felicity is sick, but she is still Felicity. Even if she will be in a wheelchair and in need of a colostomy bag, I will still love her just the same. She is my Felicity.”

Moira seemed to be satisfied with the answer Oliver had given because she simply replied, “Then why don’t you tell her that?”

Oliver shook his head. With their time threatening to run out, he had thought about confessing his love to her again and again. Whenever his thoughts had even just grazed the topic, he had quickly reminded himself of what the logical consequence of the situation was though.

“A relationship or even just considering if she has feelings for me too should be the least of Felicity’s priorities right now,” Oliver said with husky voice, “because she needs all her energy to keep going on.”

Felicity was sick. All she should think about was getting a little bit better though. Oliver knew that she was never going to be really better, but she could get a little better. She could get well enough for him to make the rest of her wishes come true.

Right now, Felicity and her wellbeing really were all that mattered.

“Felicity needs to know how you feel about her,” Moira said though, “she deserves to know that because she deserves to make her own decision.”

Oliver shook his head, but Moira squeezed his hands and shook his head. She wouldn’t allow any objections. She had made up her mind, and nothing would change that.

“Felicity needs to know how you feel about her,” Moira insisted, “and she needs to be the one in charge of the decision. Otherwise, you will always regret it.”

Looking at his mother, Oliver felt his heart sink. As much as he had tried to tell himself that it was different, he knew that she was right. He wasn’t in charge of this decision. The only person who could decide if Felicity could risk her heart right now was Felicity herself. Everything else would just take away from the person Felicity was – a strong and independent woman that didn’t want life to decide for her.

His mother was right. Oliver had to tell Felicity how he felt about her.

* * *

The TV program was pure trash by now. There really was nothing good the usual TV program offered. Felicity didn’t know a single one of the shows that was currently on air, and one of the very reasons was that most shows that were aired were terrible reality TV shows that felt so far from reality that Felicity didn’t know why they possibly deserved that name.

Once she had reached that first program again, Felicity switched off the TV and put the remote to her nightstand. She rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket right under her chin. Although it was quite warm, she felt a little bit cold. It was probably the general hospital atmosphere.

With all the time that Felicity had spent in hospitals during her childhood, she had learned to hate them with passion. The sterile, while walls and the smell of disinfections reminded her of the long hours she had spent in a hospital as a child made it hard to endure it now. She felt like she had been taken back into her early childhood years.

Releasing a long sigh, Felicity shook her head. She couldn’t allow herself to think about those times for too long. Just dealing with those old memories robbed so much of the energy she didn’t have.

As a quite skilled and well-educated woman, it was even worse to be in the hospital now. Oliver had brought her three books, but she had read all of them this morning already. Now she was back to being bored again, and she really wasn’t good at being bored. Sitting back and waiting wasn’t her strength. It never had been, and given how little time Felicity had left, she doubted that she would learn to make it happened in the future. There was no time for a lesson like that.

She had talked to Dr. Schwartz earlier today. Her condition was stabilized, and her medication had been adapted to her latest symptoms. Everything that could be done had been done. That was why Dr. Schwartz had agreed with her that she could leave the hospital and go home.

Home. It was weird how quickly she had learned to think about Queen Manor as her home. The castle-like mansion had always felt like it had escaped from one of the Christmas holiday movies or maybe the Disney princess movies. Anyway, it had never really felt like a place that anyone could really fell home at.

Felicity had spent a couple of days there now, and she had already experienced the exact opposite thing. Queen Manor, as crazily aloof as it was, it could make for a great home. The stone walls and everything still looked incredibly cold and unpersonal, but the people inside really make it a home.

Raisa was the glue that kept the family together. She found the right food and drink for any occasion, and she always knew when somebody was in need of it. She had an almost magical feeling for people around her.

Moira and Robert, as often as they were out of home, always did their best to make the walls surrounding them really feel like a home. They wanted it to be more than a house or manor. They really wanted it to feel like a home, a place to feel comfortable and where you could always be yourself.

And, finally, there was Oliver. Oliver was like the most wonderful human being that Felicity knew was possible. If it wasn’t for him, she wasn’t sure if she would make it through this time. He was always there for her, always trying to make things a little bit easier for her.

Her eyes found the ring he had pushed onto her finger barely some hours before she had started cramping. She was going to be Oliver’s wife, and he was going to be her husband. It wasn’t like it had been playing out in her dreams again and again, but at least it brought her a little closer to being able to pretend it was. She was going to die, so she should be allowed to pretend that things were different.

When she was back at Queen Manor, maybe she and Moira could start planning the wedding. Who knew how much time she had left?

A lot knock at the door made Felicity startle from her thoughts.

“Yes?”

Felicity’s heart jumped up into her throat when Oliver stuck his head into the room, and she was sure that her cheeks turned red. She lifted her hand and nervously combed her hair with her fingers. She was almost sure that there was little to no hope for her to look somewhat okay without her special hairbrush.

Felicity had no idea why she suddenly felt like a lovesick teenager. She had had feelings for Oliver for quite some time now. It had been no secret to her, and the engagement shouldn’t have changed much about it. After all, it was just an engagement between two friends. Still, her body reacted like it was all real.

“Hi,” she said, her voice sounding an octave too high, “you’re back.”

“And I brought you breakfast.”

Felicity scrunched up her nose. She still wasn’t a fan of breakfast, now even less than before. Dr. Schwartz had told her that she should be eating breakfast. She wouldn’t be released if she didn’t eat. Just the thought of eating anything made her stomach cramp again though.

“Don’t look like that,” Oliver asked with a chuckle, closing the door behind him, “I got up in the middle of the night to make these Monte Cristos with waffles.”

Felicity frowned, looking at Oliver. He smiled innocently, stepping next to the bed. He leaned over her face and placed a firm kiss on her forehead.

“How do you know about Monte Cristos with waffles?”

Oliver chuckled and leaned further forward until their noses brushed together. Felicity felt like her heart was thrumming in her chest. It caused the blood to rush in her ears so loudly that she could barely focus on anything else. If she angled her face just a little bit, her lips would brush against Oliver’s.

She thought back to the kiss in the library. It had come as a surprise, but it had felt so incredibly right. It had felt like it had been a long overdue. It had felt like it should have happened a long time ago already. It had felt like it was supposed to be.

“You told me about that, dummy.”

With a chuckle, Oliver leaned back and sat down on the side of the mattress. He dropped the bag with the food into her lap and to Felicity’s own surprise, she unwrapped the foil around the food and took a bite.

“This is actually delicious.”

Oliver grinned. “The first point on my to-do list can be ticked off then.”

Felicity perked up her eyebrows, taking another bite. “How many are left?”

“Quite a few,” Oliver replied with a sigh, taking her left hand in both of his and stroking his thumb over the diamond of her engagement ring, “some more important and some less important.”

“What is the most important one?”

Oliver looked at her intensely. She could almost read in his eyes that being here with her was the most important part, but Oliver didn’t say a word. He lowered his eyes and shook his head slightly.

Felicity frowned slightly. Oliver had turned into a person that was carrying his heart on his tongue lately. He had talked about his feelings a lot which was a nice change. Felicity liked to see him so open about it. He had been bottling his feelings up inside of him for too long. She had had to worm his thoughts and feelings out of him for so long.

“How are you doing?”

Felicity’s frown deepened slightly at the sudden change of topic, but she let it go. She could see that Oliver had barely slept. The dark circles under his eyes said enough for her to know. It was a pity because she had sent him home last night, hoping he would catch some well-needed hours of sleep. Apparently, he could have just stayed here as well.

“Better,” she said eventually, “at least I feel fitter. The doc says it could get worse again though and that very soon.”

Oliver nodded his head and squeezed her hand. “I know, but don’t worry. I will be with you through every step on the way.”

“I know that,” Felicity whispered and put her right hand on top of his, “and I couldn’t be more grateful. You are the best friend possible.”

There was a glimpse in Felicity’s eyes that she didn’t know how to describe. She wasn’t even sure what it meant. Since Oliver lowered his eyes, she didn’t really get a chance to make up her mind about it either.

She frowned once more, wondering what was going on with him today. Watching him for a while longer, she caught sight of the continued rubbing of his thumb against her engagement ring. Her stomach dropped when a suspicion regarding Oliver’s strange behavior dawned her.

“What happened to me was quite intense,” Felicity said carefully, her voice sounding husky, “and if you want an out, I get that. I mean you didn’t really know how bad it could get before you saw it and-“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Oliver said, shaking his head to hush her, “I am your best friend and your future husband. There is no way that I am going to leave you now or ever.”

Felicity cocked her head at him. “Oliver, I-“

Again, Oliver shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Felicity perked up her eyebrows. “You don’t even know what I want to say.”

“I don’t need to know,” Oliver replied, “but I have some strong suspicions, and those are enough for me to know that my answer has to be a no.”

Felicity chuckled. “But if you change your mind-“

“I won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

At that, Oliver pursed his lips. He sucked in a deep breath which caused his shoulders to tense slightly. He avoided her eyes for a moment before he grabbed the remains of the food from her lap and put them to the nightstand. Taking both of her hands, he moved a little closer to her then.

Again, he was weird, Felicity thought to herself. There was something about his behavior this morning that was just really weird. He was a little out of himself. The lack of sleep hadn’t been good for him it seemed.

“Felicity, I came here for a reason.”

Felicity perked up her eyebrows, unsure if she should chuckle in expectation of some playfulness or if she should fear some bad news. Oliver’s eyes told her it was the latter. The warm smile on his lips told her it was the first. She really wasn’t sure.

“I need to tell you something.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly. She still wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to expect. It was almost a little bit weird how much trouble she had to read Oliver lately. There had been a time when she had known what he was thinking even before he had said a word. The dramatic times they were caught in just changed a lot of things.

Oliver continued to look at her, but not a single sound fell from his lips. Slowly, Felicity really started to think that this morning wasn’t going to take a good end. Something was really going on here.

“Spit it out, Oliver,” Felicity told him lightly, “before you choke on it and-“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Felicity smiled at him. “You are my best friend, and you can tell me anything. you-“

“No,” Oliver interrupted her firmly, shaking his head, “I love you.”

Felicity didn’t understand, at least not immediately. A long moment passed before it finally clicked with her. Oliver really, honestly loved her.

Her surprise made her breath get caught in her lungs. Her heart skipped a beat before it started racing in her chest. Goosebumps ran down her spine and spread all over her skin, creating a nice tingling.

There were only a few situations when Felicity was speechless. This was one of them.

“I love you, Felicity,” Oliver said once more and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, “I have loved you long before Thea died already.”

So her feeling hadn’t betrayed her. She had had a feeling that there was something going on between her and Oliver. She just hadn’t been entirely sure.

“I wanted to ask you out that night she died,” Oliver continued, his voice soft and low, “but then we got the news that Thea was in the hospital and she- she died.”

Oliver’s voice almost broke saying that, and Felicity felt the need to squeeze his fingers and comfort him. She just couldn’t move. She felt completely frozen, unable to say or do anything other than staring at Oliver.

“After she died, my life just crumbled. I wasn’t able to focus on a single thing anymore. Everything apart from her death seemed to be meaningless.”

Felicity’s heart was pounding against her ribs so loudly that Felicity wouldn’t be surprised if Oliver could hear it. She had trouble to focus on his voice over the throbbing noise.

When Oliver wanted to continue speaking, he suddenly stopped. Felicity frowned, but Oliver chuckled a little nervously and squeezed her fingers. “You have to breathe, Felicity.”

Only now Felicity realized that she was still holding her breath. She sucked in the air quickly and realized how much she had really needed that breath. Her lungs were aching from the need of oxygen.

Once Felicity felt able to listen again, she nodded her head. Oliver shot her a brief smile.

“You are more than just my friend,” Oliver continued, “so much more. You are the person I can always turn to and the person I feel the most comfortable around. With you at my side, I know that I can be myself. I am a better person just because I know you. You have inspired me to be better, and I love that about you and about us. I- I could go on and on about how I feel about you and why, but…”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders, looking at her intensely. He was giving her time to process and to react to his declaration of love. There was an expression of relief in his eyes, joint by a glimpse of nervousness. How long had he been thinking about telling her about his feelings and how much courage must it have taken him?

Felicity knew that she needed to say something. When someone told you they loved you, they expected some kind of answer. Her mouth was so dry that Felicity doubted that she’d get a single word out.

For how long had she been dreaming that Oliver would say these words to her? How many different scenarios had she envisioned in her dreams? How much had she longed for a moment like this?

If he had told her the exact same words a couple of weeks ago, Felicity would have probably flung her arms around Oliver’s neck and told him how much she loved him too. It would have been the happiest day for her.

Her entire life had changed though. Things weren’t the same anymore. Everything was different since she had been diagnosed with cancer once more. She was going to die, and there really was no hope left. Everything she did no could possibly hurt the people she would leave behind even more, and that really was the last thing she wanted.

Felicity loved Oliver, but it just wasn’t that easy.

Clearing her throat and avoiding Oliver’s eyes, Felicity grabbed her left arm and pulled both of her hands out of his touch. She didn’t need to see his face to know that her actions hurt him or at least disappointed him. He was probably suspecting that this wasn’t going to go the way he had hoped for.

“You cannot be in love with me.”

Saying those words physically hurt Felicity. Everything inside of her was trying to fight her on saying them or any of the other words that were on her tongue. She knew that it had to be done though. She needed to say these words, and Oliver needed to hear them.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” Oliver said lightly, using her silence to try and convince her otherwise it seemed, “though, even if I had one, I am not sure I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He pushed his fingers under her chin and angled her head back, so her eyes met his. Everything about his face was so soft like all he really wanted was to gently convince her that he loved her and that it was okay that she loved him too. It only made it harder.

“You have fall out of love with me then,” she told him, “I don’t know how though I am sure that you will get a lot of help from the ladies in the club and-“

“Yeah, about that,” Oliver interrupted her, still sounding so incredibly soft although there was a little bit of shame or embarrassment in his eyes, “I know it looked like I had a lot of flings lately, but the truth is that I didn’t sleep with any of the guests in the club or anyone really in the last years. My barkeepers and waiters told you that I took some of them home, but the truth is that I just brought them to their homes when they didn’t have any friends around and felt unsafe. I haven’t even been thinking about being with any other woman since I realized how I feel for you. It’s only been you.”

How many women dreamed that the man they loved would say something like that to them? If things were different, Felicity would certainly want that too. With the way things were, he was only making it more difficult though.

“Oliver-“

“I know what you want to say,” Oliver interrupted her, “and I understand that you are scared. I am scared about losing you too, but I don’t want that to stop me from enjoying the time we have left. I can love you for the rest of your life, no matter how long or short it’s going to be.”

It would be too great if it was true. She could just tell Oliver about her feelings for him, and she could sweeten the time she had left for herself. Despite the impending death, those would be some of the happiest weeks of her life she guessed.

Felicity knew better than that though. She had seen Oliver after Thea’s death. She had seen how heartbroken he had been. He had been completely out of himself, barely recognizable anymore. What had happened to Oliver back then couldn’t happen to him again because she wasn’t sure if he could pick himself back up after that. She never wanted to see him like that again, especially when she knew that she couldn’t help him.

“You have to forget what you are feeling for me.”

“Forget you?” Oliver smiled, shaking his head. “Never.”

No matter what Felicity would say now, it wouldn’t change Oliver’s mind. He had already decided that he wanted to adhere to his feelings. He wanted to live them, no matter the cost. Obviously, he had completely forgotten how much he had suffered after Thea’s death.

Felicity sucked in a deep breath. If the nice version wasn’t going to help, maybe the not-so-nice way was going to tell Oliver that she couldn’t let him do this.

“Then you have to leave.”

Oliver looked at Felicity incredulously like he wasn’t sure if she really meant it. Only when she continued to look at him with determined eyes, Oliver seemed to get that she was indeed being serious here. His smile fell.

“Felicity, I-“

“Go,” she told him once more, her voice even harder, “and find some woman to remind yourself what it’s like to be with someone, someone who is not sick.”

“Okay, I know I have ambushed you with this, but-“

“I’m serious, Oliver,” she told him once more, “I want you to leave.”

Oliver faltered, and Felicity could see him considering his options. He could fight her or accept her decision. Felicity tightened her jaws, trying to look as convincing as possible, and it seemed to be enough for Oliver to realize that a fight wasn’t going to help him here.

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head, “I will leave you alone for now.”

Felicity had trouble biting back her tears when Oliver got up from the edge of the mattress and headed towards the door. The way he was walking with his head lowered, looking like he was completely defeated, broke Felicity’s heart. She knew that she had to stay strong though. It was better for Oliver.

With his fingers already wrapped around the door handle, Oliver turned back around to Felicity once more. His eyes looked a lot sadder than they had before, but there was still hope there. He wasn’t going to give up easily.

“I love you, Felicity,” he said once more, “and nothing will change that. You can try to keep me away from you, but that won’t make me love you any less either.”

Felicity felt her breath getting caught in her throat once more. She held her breath, just waiting for Oliver to say what he felt the need to say and leave. She hoped it wasn’t going to take too long because he shouldn’t see the tears that she had trouble holding back already.

“If you don’t want to be with me, that is fine. I will accept your decision, and I will be your friend throughout all of this nonetheless.” Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “But if you only reject this because you think it’s better for me, then I have to tell you that you are wrong. This is our only chance to be together, and I would rather take it than give it away.”

Felicity wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure if Oliver really got what he was getting himself into. He also didn’t know what he was getting her into.

“Call me when you are ready to talk,” he said, “night or day, I am always there for you.”

With that being said, he left the room.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Felicity felt a sob rising in her throat. She slapped her hands in front of her lips quickly to muffle the sound. Tears were running down her cheeks, and she couldn’t do anything against it.

She had always known that life wasn’t fair. It was one of the first things she had really realized about life, she guessed. It really wasn’t fair. You could do everything right and were still punished terribly.

Why couldn’t this have happened months ago? Why now that everything was too late?

Oliver was wrong if he honestly believed that there was still a chance for them. That they wanted to be together just wasn’t enough here. She was selfish enough to not try therapy, but she wasn’t selfish enough to pull him even deeper into her disaster. She couldn’t do it.

Even if it broke her heart.

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @mrt2501 @arsipaci14 @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl-blog @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups @snorlaxishere @sonothappening118

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akfanficlove · 4 years

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“What if I remember?” - #SeblaineWeek2020

Written for Seblaine Week 2020 – Hurt/ comfort

Sebastian had proposed. A week later, he was in an accident, Blaine not knowing if he’d make it and remembering the day he went back to Dalton, met Sebastian again and – in the end – fell in love. This hurt so much when I was even just writing it but I love how it turned out.

He remembers. He knows it happened, yet he can barely believe it. Why is he silently sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to beeping machines when he wants to scream at Sebastian to finally wake up? The hand that’s holding his boyfriend’s for dear life is sweaty. No, wait, not his boyfriend’s – his fiancé’s. It can’t be, it’s only been a week since Sebastian went down on one knee during their vacation in Paris.

Paris, where Sebastian had lived as a child and where he spent six months as an intern in college. Paris, where they wanted to go together after graduation, then after getting their first jobs, then after Blaine’s first show closed on Broadway.

Finally, 2 years after Sebastian had returned home to San Francisco, they finally went there and it was everything Blaine had dreamed about. They were strolling down the Seine late at night, eating crêpes and kissing under the Eiffel Tower, just like Sebastian had promised. And then, on their last night, Sebastian had insisted they’d go to this little restaurant in Montmartre that’s a cute café by day and a funky bar by night, even though they were both tired, so why exactly couldn’t they just order room service and go to bed?

Blaine knew why when Sebastian took his hand, his palms sweaty and shaking a little. “Blaine Anderson”, he said, “you are the most ridiculous person and a pain in my ass. But every day I wake up next to you and for a moment I am so in awe that you are still with me.”

His voice trembled a little and Blaine’s eyes started to fill with tears because, no, he couldn’t mean that, this couldn’t be… “You are stubborn and you drive me insane when I know there’s something bothering you but you brush me off like it’s fine. I hate it when you sing in the shower before I had my morning coffee and hate even more how I could never ever hate it when you’re singing because it’s beautiful. You have this smug smile when you know my arguments are better but your puppy eyes will make me give in anyways and we really need to talk about you not using them for evil purposes like having dinner with your strange public school friends you insist you like.”

Blaine gasps half-mockingly, half self-conscious (Sebastian might have a point about him using that method to get his way).

“All of this should have me running for my life as fast as I can, yet, you are in every way said puppy – one look, one smile and I’m done, Anderson. Actually, thinking about leaving you kind of leaves me shaking with fear because I might be able to survive without you but I would hardly call that living, so I’d really rather not.” Sebastian actually blushed and Blaine was about to yell “yes, I do!” before he even heard the question.

However, Sebastian got down on one knee, holding out a small velvet box with a beautiful simple silver ring with a row of very small black diamonds and asked Blaine to marry him right there in a little restaurant in Paris. It sounds cliché and cheesy but Blaine likes cheesy and he likes Paris and he likes the ring and, hell, yes, he wants to marry Sebastian! For a fraction of a second there’s an image in his head of the boy he used to love, the boy he thought he would marry one day and in another lifetime or universe maybe he would, would have proposed with a big romantic gesture and a moving speech, but here and now, he kissed Sebastian as he slid his finger through the ring.

At home, they threw a little get-together a few days later to break the news to their families and closest friends, both of them still basking in actually doing this, taking this next step together. They wanted to officially tell their fellow ex-Warblers, Blaine’s public school friends Sebastian pretends to dislike (although he knows Sebastian has a soft spot for Marley, likes playing video games with Sam and Sebastian’s relationship with Santana, founded on a deep respect for each other’s wit and snarky banter, Blaine will never understand) and a few other friends on a bigger party next saturday.

Next saturday seems so far away right now. He doesn’t really know what happened, couldn’t listen to what the doctor told him a few hours ago when he stormed into the hospital after a call that began with “Mr. Blaine Anderson? You are the emergency contact for a Mr. Sebastian Smythe. I’m sorry to inform you that there was an accident…”

Everything is a blur now. He went where they told him to go. He moved when the nurses needed some space to change Sebastian’s IV-drip. He laid his head in the crook between Sebastian’s head and his shoulder, held his hand carefully, unable to say anything but “Please don’t leave me…”. He’s been like that for hours.

It’s getting late and visiting hours are long over, one of the nurses obviously feels sorry for him, that’s the only explanation he has why he’s still allowed to be here. He really must look as awful as he feels. His whole body hurts when he moves to get up, not wanting to go but not wanting to cause any trouble for the lovely nurse who let him sit with Sebastian a little longer. He kisses Sebastian’s forehead. He knows, Sebastian doesn’t like this, feels like a little kid when he does it, and maybe Blaine does it on purpose to make Sebastian finally wake up. He remembers fragments now, that the doctor said something about “potential brain damage” and “we just need to give him a few hours, maybe a day or two” and Sebastian “being lucky”. He really wants to believe her, has a deep respect for doctors after seeing some of his friends like Wes and Jeff suffer through med school. So, he hopes she’s right and reluctantly let’s go off Sebastian’s hand.

Turns out, going back to their apartment was not a good idea. Everything around him is Sebastian and when he’s finally in bed, the only thing he can think about is What if?

What if Sebastian doesn’t wake up tomorrow?

What if he wakes up at night, now knowing where he is, what happened and looking for Blaine?

Or what if he wakes up not even knowing who Blaine is? What if what they had is gone now?

Something in Blaine’s stomach doesn’t feel right and he needs to get it out one way or the other. He runs towards the bathroom and makes it just in time before he throws up his breakfast and some of the shitty coffee he had at the hospital. For the first time since the call, he allows himself to break down into tears. He sits on the cold tiles of their bathroom floor, grabbing his curls when the sob’s ripple through his body.

What if Blaine goes back tomorrow and they tell him, Seb will never wake up?

What if they ask him to decide to turn off the machines or believe in wonders?

Oh dear god, what if he actually dies?

Usually, when Blaine is upset, he finds comfort in Seb’s arms and a solution for whatever problem in his analyzing way of thinking. Blaine gets up, washes out his mouth to get rid of the sour taste and makes his way back to the bedroom. He falls down on the mattress and curls up into a ball. He reaches for Sebastian’s pillow and hugs it tight, smelling the faint smell of the cologne he knows Blaine likes, and why? Why did it have to be Seb? Why now? Why doesn’t he wake up already?

Silent tears stream down Blaine’s face, memories flooding his brain: Sebastian laughing because Blaine’s very small mom was hugging him so tight when they told her about the engagement. Sebastian in Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the parks, the ring and his smile. Tears he tries to hide every time they watch “Moulin Rouge” or a Disney classic. Date nights in the park for the 4th July, sitting on a blanket watching the fire works explode over the Golden Gate Bridge. Little moments like them holding hands all the way back to the hotel with their National’s trophy. Their first kiss a few days later when Blaine burned his tongue on scalding hot coffee, Sebastian being there to soothe the ache. All the way back, Blaine’s first day back at Dalton, not officially attending classes yet but in his uniform anyway to try how it would feel. He remembers. He remembers Sebastian starstruck-expression and the hand on his back. He remembers the warmth that was partly because he was so excited to be back and partly because something stirred in his belly he didn’t dare name yet, not back then.

It’s that warmth he craves now. That warmth he wishes he could give Sebastian. He falls asleep with tears drying on his lashes, his body on Sebastian’s side of the bed. He sleeps restlessly but when he does, he dreams about that day at Dalton that changed everything.

It’s 7 a.m. when he slowly wakes up, feeling even more exhausted than when he fell asleep. He just wants to shower and go back to the hospital. Before getting up, he looks at his phone, a little anxious to see a message from the hospital there telling him bad news although it’s a ridiculous thought. They would’ve called if something was wrong, right? Yeah. But they would’ve also called if Seb had woken up, a bitter voice in his head tells him.

After the shower and getting dressed he dials the hospitals number where they tell him visitors were not allowed sooner than 8:30 which leaves Blaine with one more hour to ki– to spend. What he wanted to say is a bad, bad word. A bad, bad word he purposely doesn’t use, afraid he might jinx something. Blaine huffs. Sebastian would so make fun of this, of how Blaine behaves when the doctor’s prognosis was that he would be fine and Blaine wishes more than anything for Sebastian to come home and make fun of him. He’d gladly take a life full of rolling eyes, half-smiles and shaking heads if it meant that Sebastian would just be fine. He loves this man and no God would be cruel enough to take him from him, right?

Blaine sits down on the couch, completely ready with his shoes on and watches to clock on the wall on the left side of their TV tick. He unlocks his phone and scrolls through his pictures.

There are a lot from Paris, one of them in front of the Louvre – it didn’t stop raining this whole day. One of Sebastian in a small café with a French newspaper and an espresso. One of him kissing Sebastian’s cheek out of a sudden and Sebastian’s eyes wide in surprise from when they finally made it up the hill to Sacré-Cœur and enjoyed the view.

Then there are other pictures. Sebastian with his arms slung over Hunter’s and Beat’s shoulder on the night of their housewarming party for their offices of the advertisement agency the founded together. Sebastian, Kitty and Marley dancing on Sam’s birthday party last year, his boyfr– his fiancé’s tie undone and probably too many buttons of his shirt open to be appropriate. Yet, they seemed like they didn’t have a care in the world. A picture of Sebastian and him hugging in front of a huge poster of Blaine’s face on Blaine’s opening night on Broadway. It’s the look in Seb’s face, so proud, so in love, so excited that has Blaine’s heart breaking a little and makes tears sting in his eyes. His thumb brushes over their faces. “Seb, you can’t leave me now…”, he whispers although no one’s there that could hear him.

How he made it to the hospital, he has no idea. His whole body aches and it’s getting worse the closer he gets to the room door. When Blaine opens it, he actually stops breathing, only to let it out in a deep sigh when he finds Sebastian in exactly the same position as he was yesterday. “He looks so fragile”, Blaine thinks and he wants to do nothing but hold his boy in his arms. Maybe that’s why he dismisses the chair and lays down next to Sebastian, curled into his body, careful not to accidently pull out the IV-drip. How often he had found himself in almost exactly this position when they were cuddling in bed after an orgasm or when Blaine’s had this awful cold last winter. Blaine cups Sebastian’s cheek and stroked lightly. During the 5 days of the cold when he thought he might actually die, Sebastian kept him company in bed when he could, took a few days off of work to take care of him, brought him soup and water and tea and advil. And he sang to him, Blaine remembers, the memory might be a little fuzzy but he remembers his soft voice in his ear grounding him. So Blaine starts singing softly, if only to help Sebastian ground himself:

“I still love you

I still want you

I still need you

After all.

For better or worse

Sickness and health

Till death do us part

After all.

Please don’t leave me…”

It must be hours since Blaine has arrived. His voice is starting to get hoarse, his face is wet from tears Blaine couldn’t stop from falling and he feels exhausted. When the song is over, he burries his face in Sebastian’s neck and breathes in before getting up. He needs to go to the bathroom and even though he’s not hungry, he knows he should get something to eat. Before he turns to leave the room he leaves a lingering kiss against Sebastian’s forehead and mumbles “I’ll be right back…”. He walks towards the door.

“You know I hate it when you do that, B.”

Blaine stops in his tracks. He’s afraid to turn back around. What if his brain is playing tricks on him? What if he’s sleep-deprieved and going crazy?

“Makes me feel like a child.”

Blaine turns. Deep green is looking at him. There’s a crocked smile on a beautiful face and Blaine rushes back to the bed and grabs this handsome face. He doesn’t feel the tears of relief but he feels the chains that suffocated him burst in his chest, suddenly it’s easier to breath again. He doesn’t hear himself whisper his name again and again in awe. But he does feel it when Sebastian turns his head a little and winces but kisses his palms.

“Hey…”

Blaine blinks. “Hi… oh my god, Seb, you scared me so much!” He launches himself into his fiancé’s arms with an “I love you” but scrambles to his feet when he hears him groan in pain. “Shit, I’m sorry, Seb, I’m so, so sorry. Wait, let me get a nurse or a doctor, fuck, you must be in so much pain and I– I’m just so glad, you’re awake…” He wipes tears and snot away with the back of his right hand. Sebastian is awake. He’s awake.

Sebastian just smiles at him. “It’s okay, B, I’m okay, I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor, not right now.” He grab’s Blaine’s hand. “Why don’t you lay down again?” He scoots over and Blaine obliges, raveling in the feeling of Seb’s finger’s lacing through his curls. He’s awake.

“Oh, Blaine?” – “Mhm?” – “We have to postpone the party. I am so not giving Hunter the satisfaction of showing up with bruises on this usually perfect mark of beauty…”

Blaine just rolls his eyes and hugs Sebastian tighter even though he hears him hissing in obvious discomfort. Good. That’ll teach Sebastian to never, ever scare Blaine like that again. “I swear to God, Seb, if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll burn your French vintage-writing desk without batting an eye.”

#seblaine week 2020 #seblaine #2020 #blaine anderson #sebastian smythe #sebastian x blaine #hurt #hurt/ comfort

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my-arlington-academia · 5 years

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Alistair birthday fanfic (that has nothing to do with his birthday!)

Hey guys, guess what day it is? It’s March 1st!! Which means… It’s Alistair’s birthdayyy!!! 👏👏🎉🎉 Anyways, I made a list with each character’s birthday in order:

Alistair: March 1st Karolina and Tegan: April 25th Ellie: June 19th Neha: July 7th Tyler: August 21th Tadashi: September 17th Claire: October 5th Axel: November 20th Raquel: December 3rd

So basically Alistair is this year’s first birthday boy! (And well… all years actually, he’ll always be the first birthday boy 😂) It also made me realize that I missed Raquel’s birthday 😭 shame on me, shame on me…

Well, I tried to write a short fanfic again, sorry if it’s super sucky or cringe but I love Alistair very much thus I’m going to post it anyway 😤 (Scholar is a she in this one since last time I wrote them as a he, also the fanfic is around 1k words long!)

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Scholar wasn’t the brightest when it came to having, or rather trying to have, a conversation in a big group of people. At first she was following just fine but when she got distracted for even 10 seconds she couldn’t follow anymore. The topics were changing at a great speed and she wasn’t always familiar enough with the subject to say something valuable and even when she did, there was no time to share her piece of mind. Once a person stopped talking the first person to speak next would take the spotlight and it was needless to say that Scholar wasn’t great at anything that involved speed.

She was sitting with all of her new friends in the cafeteria and the debate was starting to get heated, the only people missing were Karolina and Neha but it wasn’t that surprising. Karolina still didn’t want to hang out anywhere near Scholar and Neha was busy most of the time with either school work or Rao designs.

That is why at some point Scholar just started… zoning out. Since she wasn’t taking part in the conversation anymore she just assumed that no one was looking her way. And she was right. Everyone was chewing and talking at the same time or at least trying to swallow as quickly as possible. Then there was Claire who was just too polite to do that so she was just listening carefully to whatever Tyler and Tadashi were debating about.

Scholar was at the edge of the table just in front of Alistair who also seemed to be listening closely while eating a burger. That’s when, in a daze, Scholar’s gaze landed on his hands. At first, she was randomly staring off into space. Her eyes were too tired and they needed to be out of focus for a little bit. But when her sight cleared up again she immediately looked away out of embarrassement.

‘Crap! I hope he didn’t notice that I was staring… Well it’s not like I was staring on purpose though.’ Scholar was a bit flustered. Even so, she looked at his hands again. This time with her own free will which made her feel even more nervous but she just couldn’t help it. She was really mesmerized in a weird way. Of course, she was used to the fact that guys have most times bigger hands than girls do but with Alistair it was different. It looked like every single one of his fingers had muscles capable of snapping a thick twig, however despite that, they also looked really gentle. ‘Is it bad that I want to hold his hands? I bet it would be really nice to hold hands with Alistair… And do other things too… Oh my God. What am I thinking again?? What am I? A creepy hand fetishist?’

That’s when her heart sunk into her stomach. “Um… Scholar?” Her eyes moved up to see his face crisped into a worried smile. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at my burger for a while now, you want a bite?”

Thank God he thinks that she was staring at the food and not his hands… But she was so sure that he wouldn’t notice anything at all so she panicked anyway. “Oh no, I was just uh… wondering if you can cook! Since all of us always eat food from the cafeteria I started randomly thinking that and my eyes just wandered off. Sorry!” Scholar was kind of bad when it came to improvising on the spot, let’s just hope that he would buy it. Well, knowing Alistair he wouldn’t force her to share something she didn’t want to talk about. Alistair’s worried smile changed into a genuine and happy one and he moved his chair closer to the table to talk with Scholar.

“Oh, sure I can. I’m not the best but since I’m the eldest amongst my siblings I can make basic stuff easily at least. What about you?” At the other side of the table, the debate was coming to a close and more ears were getting interested in what Scholar and Alistair were talking about, one on one nonetheless.

“Oh really? Well you do seem to be great with your han- uh. Nevermind.” Scholar’s cheeks had taken a pink shade even though that type of stuff happend rarely to her. As for the other side of the table, a couple of them had heard that. Of course, Ellie was the first one to make a comment.

“Oooh. Talking in secret the both of you, huh? How do you even know that Alistair is “great with his hands” Scholar?“ Honestly, Alistair hadn’t caught on the subtext until Ellie kicked in. The poor boy blushed too.

"What do you mean, how do I know? Just looking at his hands is enough!” Scholar pointed her finger towards them as if she had just stated the most obvious thing in the world and everyone looked that way. As expected, Alistair suddenly became self-conscious because of all the staring. But after a short silence Ellie finally shrugged, admitting defeat. “Well, good point. But that still sounded kinky.”

While it seemed like Tyler didn’t really follow or get what happend, he got up from his chair and flexed his arms in front of the amused gazes of the whole group. “Oh please. My arms and hands are just as good, don’t you all realize the enormous effort that goes into my paintings? The grip strength I need to hold my brush 4 hours in a row? Gotta have strong arms for that much talent.” Tegan snorted. “Of course.”

Tyler looked at Tegan with an exaggerated nonchalant expression. “Is that jealousy I see over there, my dear Tegan? No need to be so upset, everyone has their own qualities and talents. As for you, I would say the neck is your toughest part.” Tegan’s eyes widened in surprise. “My neck? … Oh, you mean because it can hold my really heavy big booty brain?” Tyler grinned. “No, because of all the times you were sleep deprived and had to learn how to sleep in a sitting position.”

While everyone was laughing and jokingly praising Tegan’s spine, Claire squinted her eyes in a hilariously confused expression. She must be thinking: 'What does a big booty brain even mean?’ She out of all people, since Claire was in the health sciences department and was aspiring to become a neurosurgeon, that term must’ve piqued her interest even if she had the suspicion that it was nothing serious.

The rest of the lunch break was spent in more ridiculous debates and Alistair lost in his thoughts. 'Was Scholar looking at my hands earlier?’ He had figured it out but he still heavily doubted his judgement. Because there’s no way that Scholar would stare at his hands, right? There’s no reason she would. This time around Alistair was the one to stare at her hands. But he was being much more obvious about it. Her hand was so small compared to his. Her fingers were thinner and her nails had a tame shade of pink. “Alistair? Is something wrong with my hands?”

Just when he was starting to get afterthoughts Scholar snapped him back into reality. “Wh-what? Not at all! Your hands are really pr-” He was obviously about to say “pretty” but it would make him look even guiltier than he already was. So he tried to use another word. “Pr-Precious!”

Unfortunately for Alistair it was a much more endearing term than “pretty” but fortunate for Scholar because she was really giddy about the compliment. “Oh… Thank you uhh…” This time around no one heard them. But both of their minds were left with the exact same thought. 'This better not have awakened a weird hand fetish or something…’

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Aaannd that’s it! On a scale of 0 to 10 how cringe would you rate this? I hope that one day I’ll reach 0! This whole fanfic is basically the meme that goes “Oh boy, I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me!” By the way, just so we’re clear I do NOT have a hand fetish 😂 I swear this was just for wholesome comedic purposes. Also, just so you guys know, my birthday is in 2 days! *wink wink nudge nudge*

#sweet elite #se #alistair drew #fanfiction #fanfic #wow I was born 2 days after Alistair if that is not fate then I don't know what is 😂#no but seriously #I wrote this based on a scene from I Love Yoo #you know the one with Dieter?#when he's eating a sandwich and Yoo is like #oh don't mind me I'm just looking at your hot hands 😉#this was the most awkward and funny thing I had seen in a long time

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sanikori · 6 years

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So, i forced myself to watch Leaving Neverland...

And i swear, i've never hated some stangers in my life to the point where i want them dead. I felt my oxygen leave me and i was choking on my fucking tears from all the lies. I felt so sick, that i puked 5 times. But now i've recomposed myself so that i can expose these liars. I didn't want to go back in time and know how in feels to be a moonwalker in 1993. I wanted people to still talk about Michael, but not like this, never like this.

First things first, as Michael Williams, stated on Twitter, Michael has been investigated from the FBI for 13 fucking years.

Here we see 72 officers and 50 FBI agents in the Neverland Ranch in Santa Barbara. They searched every angle and interviewed everyone to find evidence and guess what? They found nothing.

He's been proved innocent at not 1 but 2 trials. To this day, there's still no valid proof that Michael did any of those things.

Even Michael’s fucking bodyguard stepped in to defended him and expose Wade.

Here's some of the bullshit they said in that documentary, Let's start with James Safetruck: James: "I've spent Thanksgiving in 1987 with him at his home" Wrong, Michael was in Australia as a part of the Bad Tour in November 24 1987 James: "Michael didn't want us spending any time with women and cut contact with me after puberty"

Really James? then how come we see you AFTER puberty holding an umbrella for Michael while Michael's ex wife, Lisa Marie Presley, was there with the both of you. James: "I was abused by Michael in New York in 1989 after he performed at the Grammys" Fake. The Grammys were in Los Angeles and Michael didn't perform at the Grammys in 1989. Now let's go with Wade Robson Wade: "I was molested by Michael between ages 7 and 14" Wade is now 36 so it happened from 1989 till 1996. So you're telling me that these "rapes" happend DURING the Chandler investigation and DURING Michael's marriage to Lisa Marie Presley as well? and the FBI found nothing? really? bitch please.

Here comes my favourite lie Then there's the MANIPOLATED footage of Michael begin honoured at the Regent Hotel and he apparently recorded a message for Wade "on his birthday" where Michael "says" "Hello Wade, today is your birthday"

The video at the Regent Hotel was recorded on the 20th February in 1990 while Wade's birthday in on the 7th of September and the original video was meant for Elizabeth Taylor.

Also Wade and James didn't even really grew up with Michael, they didn't even know Michael that well... they BEGGED to have Michael's attention and since Michael is an angel, they got it. Also i'd like to tell you that it’s the same Wade that DEFENDED Michael not only once, but 3 mother fucking times.

If you two are saying that Michael raped you both, then how come that Macaulay Culkin (the kid from the "Home Alone" movie) the one who literally grew up with Michael by his side, who basically lived at Neverland and was a child like the both of you, said that nothing happened between him and Michael and is still defending him to this day?

They change their stories every fucking second too. Wade has changed his story 4 times and James 2 times. Wade's first version of the story: Michael threatened and manipulated him that they'll go to jail if he says anything Wade's second version of the story: He didn't "realize" he's been abused Wade's third version of the story: He felt shame Wade's fourth version of the story: He ALWAYS knew what Michael did but he didn't realize it was bad (because who doesn't have anal sex with kids, right?) Then there's James: James's first version of the story: Michael and his people were threatening him to keep quiet and James refused to testify but he and his mom knew he had been abused James's second version of the story: He didn't realize he was abused till 2014. They're so worthless that they don't even know how to lie. If you gotta lie about a dead man to earn money, do it properly. It's also funny how they don't mention that Michael was around little girls as well and not only boys, whenever it was on the streets or in Neverland. Meanwhile Oprah just said "Fuck you" to 3 generations of Jacksons by backstabbing the man who welcomed her in his house by siding with these little shits. Not only Oprah knew, but she provited the “victims”. Also the reason why Oprah promoted "Leaving Neverland" is because at the Sundance, it was also a documentary about Harvey Weinstein, who is an actual pedophile and has been found guilty. But since he's Oprah’s best friend (yes, you heard that right) they just diverted the attention in media to Michael instead of Weinstein But Wade is the one i hate the most because not only he is a liar but he's also the REAL pedophile... his reputation was so bad that kids at jumpdance called him "Uncle Perv" and the mothers wanted them to stay away from him. Like, there's literally a photo of him side hugging a girl and his left hand is close to her breast while he has his right hand on his fucking dick.

He cheated on Michael's niece, Brandi Jackson (the two have been in a relationship for 8 years) with Britney Spears which resulted in Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me A River" song and he did hard drugs. Not to mention that he made out with his SISTER ON STAGE! and this bastard has a son which i really feel sorry for... but most of all, he's a crazy ass bitch. Paris Jackson (Michael's daughter) and Taj Jackson (Michael's nephew) are both REAL victims of sexual abuse, stop to think how these two feel about this. Also Taj found texts with Wade in 2009 where Wade is thanking Taj for letting him go to Michael's memorial

Also Taj recently stated in an inteview that Michael's third son, Bigi (Blanket) Jackson is not talking anymore. And the teachers are worried about him. He literally won't speak, at all.

In conclusion: Michael Jackson is innocent. He’s the real victim.

Please, tell what would lead him to do such a thing?

You're just gonna forget all the money he gave to charity? the many lives he saved? how he considered his fans as part of his family?

I've been a fan of him since i was 4 and i'll love and defend him till i die. This man saved me with his music in my darkest times, i feel protected whenever i see or hear anything related to him, he's my inspiration, my everything and if i could make a dead celebrity come back to life, it would be him... i was meant to go to his "This Is It" concert in July, meeting him for the first time but... it never happened... because he left... i've been called a pedophile supporter just for defending him... do you know how much this hurts? I've seen "moonwalkers" turning their back on Michael like it was nothing... i've been told that i need to accept the fact that my hero is in reality a bad guy, that i'm protecting him just cause i'm a fan.

They made you belive that he bleached his skin when in reality he suffered from Vitiligo and wasn't confident enough to show it to the entire world.

They made you belive that he changed because he had too much plastic surgery when in reality he suffered from Lupus. But even if the did have too much plastic surgery, why should it matter since half of the celebrities have plastic surgery?

They made you belive that he was gay when in reality he has been married to Debbie Rowe, who gifted him with Prince and Paris, and Lisa Marie Presley, he crushed on Diana Ross and Brooke Shields, was kissed on stage by Taitana Thumbtzen aka the girl in TWYMMF (The Way You Make Me Feel) and how to forget his infamous In The Closet song with Naomi Campbell? but even if he was, he’s still Michael.

They made you belive that he was a Junkie when in reality he had many medical illnesses that needed medication and a lot of painkillers.

But most of all, they made you belive that he was a pedophile when in reality he wanted to create the childhood he never had in his adulthood and there's nothing wrong with that, he couldn’t trust adults because instead of seeing him as a human with emotions, they saw him as a cash machine. If it wasn't for the kids, he would have already killed himself, he wouldn’t care to live and he said that he would rather slit his wrists instead of hurting a child.

It's not about defending my idol just cause i'm one of his countless fans, it's about giving a voice to a man who's no longer here to defend himself.

How am i going to belive them since they're accusing Michael Joseph Jackson, the same Michael that didn't want to step on a bug and called his bodyguard to take it while saying "Don't kill it!" while he was performing on stage? the same Michael that would have died for a squirrel?

This man is dead

Attacking a dead man isn't brave.

James Gunn is still alive and he signed with a major studio

Where in everyone in the media?

They are a bunch of pathetic cowards.

So guys please, don't watch this so called documentary cause they are calling:

His ex wives liars

His friends liars

The people who worked for him for over 20 years liars

His fans liars

His FAMILY liars

But they want you to just belive the word of two proven liars.

It’s been almost 10 years since we lost him.

Wake the fuck up.

Can’t belive we’re in 2019 and you decide now that he’s guilty for something he never did. Evan Chandler forced his son, Jordan Chandler, to accuse Michael for money. Then when Michael died, Evan regretted it so much that he hanged himself. I'm waiting for Wade, James, Oprah, Martin, Connrad and everyone who belives them to do the same thing since they're all nothing but a waste of air. But don't you worry cause Taj is making a TRUE documentary that proves Michael's innocence and once it's released, they will watch their lifes crumble into tiny pieces with their own eyes and i will be there, smiling while eating pocorns. Anyone who’s a brain washed moron who don’t belive that Michael is innocent or even thinks of calling me a pedophile supporter needs to fuck off right fucking now because you will be attacked visciously, blocked and reported so DO NOT BOTHER ME

In case you didn’t understand, i’ll gladly repeat in a more vulgar way since it’s the only way you can all communicate with other people

DUMBASS BITCHES DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME! STAY THE FUCK BACK!

You guys don’t bother to do your research, you should hear both sides of the story to come to a conclusion instead of going along with everything they say. You all eat their plate of lies just like you eat your mother’s food at lunch time. You don’t ask yourself “Are they lying to me?” no, you just go along with every single fucking thing they say cause you’re dependent from the Media.

Face it, we are in the right and we’re going to win this battle. Also, these people without Michael in their lifes, would have been nothing. PS: Someone needs to tell Wade that fantazing about having Michael's dick in his mouth at age 11 in not normal.

Now i want you all to blast at all volume the songs Money, Tabloid Junkie, Morphine and Leave Me Alone in honour of these good for nothing liars as you read this post of them begin exposed from head to toe by me

#michael jackson

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Ghost of Tsushima Review: A Beautiful Homage to Akira Kurosawa

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Ghost of Tsushima is a daring departure for Sucker Punch, who since 2009 has worked solely on the Playstation-exclusive Infamous series. While those games were steeped in modernity, offering sprawling cityscapes players could explore from top to bottom via superpowered “conduits” Cole MacGrath and Delsin Rowe, Ghost of Tsushima’s open world is set in feudal Japan. It’s here that we meet young samurai Jin Sakai, who must defend his homeland, the titular island of Tsushima, from an invading Mongol army.

Right off the bat, the shift in time period and milieu to 13th century Japan is notable because Sucker Punch handles it so brilliantly, especially for the team’s first foray into the samurai genre. Japanese history and culture are woven into every single facet of the game so elegantly and organically that you’d think the team had been developing games set in feudal Japan for the past decade, not sci-fi superhero romps. More than anything, Ghost of Tsushima is a moving homage to Japan, its history, and its people.

The story opens with a massacre. A massive Mongol army, led by the cunning Khotun Khan, storms the beaches of Tsushima and is met by the island’s woefully outnumbered samurai contingent. When the leader of the samurai challenges Khotun to a one-on-one, fair fight, the Khan renounces the honorable gesture in gruesome fashion, literally setting the courageous samurai on fire in front of both armies. The rest of the samurai are obliterated on the beach, while Jin’s uncle, Lord Shimura, is taken prisoner by the Khan. Jin is also fatally wounded but is miraculously nursed back to health by a new ally, a thief named Yuna who needs his help in return.

These opening moments set the tone for the rest of the game. The philosophical conflict between honor and deception is the beating heart of the story and permeates the gameplay in riveting ways. As you fight to take back Tsushima from the Mongols, you can approach enemy encounters in two ways. You can choose to fight honorably, like a true samurai, and challenge enemies to a “standoff,” a quick-reflex mini-game of sorts in which you and one of the baddies face off one-on-one and see who flinches first before one of you slashes his blade through the other. You’ll then have to take on the rest of the enemies all at once, which is no easy task.

The other option is to fight like a “Ghost,” sneaking into enemy camps, killing the bad guys in their sleep, poisoning them, using intimidation tactics to scare them into fleeing battle. It’s an effective way of evening the odds between you and your foes, but it rails against everything the samurai stand for.

Countless games offer the player the option to approach combat either stealthily or head-on. This is far from a novel concept, and in this respect, the combat in Ghost of Tsushima offers little innovation. But what is innovative here is how Sucker Punch has taken the classic device of stealth vs. frontal assault and given it new life by expertly integrating it with the themes of the story.

Jin meets a handful of allies on his journey, each with their own multi-chapter story arcs that delve into their respective backstories. There’s sensei Ishikawa, a master archer whose protege has gone rogue and joined the Mongols. Lady Masako is a warrior and grandmother whose entire family was murdered by the Mongols, though she suspects they may have died after someone close to the family conspired with the enemy.

Each of the characters explores the honor vs. dishonor theme in unique and surprising ways. The dichotomy is most starkly represented in the clash of ideals between Lord Shimura, who is unshakably honorable and would rather die than gain an unfair advantage in battle, and Yuna, who understands that, to beat an enemy who fights dirty, you may have to put honor to the side for the sake of saving your people. Of course, Jin is caught in the middle and struggles to decide what kind of man he wants to be.

Aside from the ties to the story, the gameplay is fun and engaging. The swordplay combines parries and dodging with a more strategic approach to melee, as you try to find ways to build up your enemy’s stagger gauge. You can also use “ghost weapons” to give you an edge in battle, like kunai (throwing knives), smoke bombs, arrows, and more. There are also four stances to master, with each being effective against a different enemy type. Switching between stances is integral to combat and becomes second nature over time. There’s also an insanely cool fifth stance that I won’t spoil here, but it’s spectacularly badass.

Stealthing is strikingly similar to what you’d see in an Assassin’s Creed title (this is a compliment), and the game gives you myriad ways to kill enemies without raising alarms, like throwable wind chimes and firecrackers that allow you to manipulate their positioning or hallucinogenic darts that turn them against each other. Again, this is all stuff we’ve seen before, but it’s pulled off well here.

Release Date: July 17, 2020 Platform: PS4 Developer: Sucker Punch Productions Publisher: Sony Interactive Entertainment Genre: Action-adventure

Unfortunately, there are little gameplay flaws that needled at me, especially in the later hours of my playthrough (it took me around 45 hours to finish the game). The swordplay requires quick reflexes, and mastering parries and dodging is absolutely pivotal to your survival. The problem with the swordplay is subtle, and a little difficult to explain, but I’ll say it like this: in most games that are particularly challenging, when I die, I feel like it was my fault because I made a mistake, I just wasn’t fast enough, I hadn’t mastered certain skills. But on many occasions in Ghost of Tsushima, I felt like I died because the game didn’t give me a fair shot, like it was the game’s fault that I failed, not mine. It’s possible that I just wasn’t very good at the game, but it felt at times like I wasn’t given a choice in the matter. Your mileage will vary with the game’s difficulty level.

There are other things that bugged me, too, like the unreliable climbing mechanics (I swear, sometimes hopping onto a rope or branch that’s literally right in front of you is way, WAY too difficult). But overall, I had a great time playing the game and felt super powerful by the time I’d filled out my skill trees, which is no surprise considering the game was made by the same folks who made Infamous.

On a nuts and bolts gameplay level, Ghost of Tsushima doesn’t feel all that unique — there is some very familiar open-world stuff here. But on a presentation and storytelling level, the game is out-of-this-world amazing. Visually, the game looks stunning. The late-stage PlayStation 4 graphics really deliver, and coupled with the strength of the art design, Ghost of Tsushima is a true head-turner. The character models look fantastic and can emote on a level that supports the drama of the story. And while the different suits of armor that Jin acquires offer unique gameplay perks, I honestly just collected and upgraded them almost exclusively as an aesthetic indulgence. They look so freaking cool.

But the real stars of the show are the environments, which look picturesque from every conceivable angle. The wind-swept, verdant hills of Tsushima are intoxicatingly pretty, to the point where I’d get caught up ogling for minutes on end at the smallest of details, like the way the moonlight bounces off blades of grass or the way Jin kicks up crimson-red leaves that have blanketed the ground over time. I could go on forever about the dynamic day/night cycle, the beautiful rendering of different fabrics and materials, the horse animations. But instead, I’ll just say that this is the most breathtaking game, visually, that I’ve seen in recent memory.

A lot of love also went into infusing the game with Japanese cultural references, particularly in how the developers pay homage to the samurai genre. Each mission, for example, is bookended by cinematic intertitles that evoke old samurai cinema, Japanese characters, and all. But without a doubt, the most obvious/most amazing homage is “Kurosawa Mode,” which presents the game in black and white, with one of the best film grain filters I’ve ever seen in a game, resulting in an experience that looks almost exactly like a film from the iconic Japanese auteur’s oeuvre, right next to Sanjuro and Seven Samurai. If you’re a long-time fan of Kurosawa, turning the mode on may even elicit an “I’m not crying…you’re crying!” response — it’s that pretty.

I initially intended on playing the entire game in Kurosawa mode but quickly realized that it would be problematic to do so for a few reasons. Some missions require you to “follow the (insert color) flowers,” which is obviously impossible in black and white. And in combat, blockable enemy heavy attacks are signaled by a blue glint, while unblockable ones have a red glint. Combat is tough enough as it is, so…yeah. I only turned the mode on when I was riding on my horse through the countryside and I felt like treating myself to some eye candy.

Taking time to smell the cherry blossoms and have a respite from the game’s many missions and side missions is crucial because Ghost of Tsushima is a long, long game. The missions aren’t overly repetitive — most of them feel really special actually, like when you climb a mountain in freezing cold weather and must race from campfire to campfire on your ascent, or one armor quest comprised of several one-on-one duels with straw hat swordsmen scattered about the map, each with a distinct personality. But 40-plus hours is 40-plus hours, and while the main tasks of infiltrating enemy camps, liberating farms, and searching for special gear can lead to questing fatigue at the tail end of the game, the nice thing is is that you can always slow things down and just enjoy the scenery to break things up. There’s even a nifty photo mode to play with, and if any game warrants a photo mode, it’s this one.

Jin’s story isn’t just a means to an end, or a lazy excuse to drag the player from gameplay scenario to gameplay scenario. The story is incredibly well written and profound in its messaging and imagery, so much so that I believe it’s one of the best modern entries in the samurai genre, regardless of medium. All of the characters you meet and the little tales that unfold across Tsushima are filtered through Jin’s inner struggle with what honor really means and whether or not it’s worth dying for, which gives the story an incredibly strong narrative backbone. Despite the game’s epic scope, Jin’s journey actually feels quite intimate and personal. The same could be said of Kurosawa’s best work, and that’s just about the highest compliment I can give.

The post Ghost of Tsushima Review: A Beautiful Homage to Akira Kurosawa appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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subvertingyourexpectations · 5 years

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Top Ten Films of 2019

2019 was… I’m gonna be honest, not a very great year for cinema. Aside from a handful of standouts, I have seen very few things that completely blew me away. Especially given the past few years, we haven’t gotten a Roma, or a Phantom Thread, or a Denis Villeneuve movie. Anyway, this is my top ten favorite films of 2019.

But first…

Films That Would Make It But Didn’t “Technically” Come Out in 2019

Long Day’s Journey into Night

I already talked at length about this film, but I love it to pieces. It has twisted the visual language of cinema into its own beautiful and bizarre version, crafting a puzzle box of a movie that I absolutely adored. But, it technically came out at the end of 2018, so it can’t be on the list.

Tigers Are Not Afraid

If you like foreign films, this is a must-see. If you like tragic dramas anchored by some terrific child actor performances, this is a must-see. If you like horror movies, well, it’s not really a horror movie but people keep describing it as one, so you should probably see it. It’s a beautiful little imaginative tale about the effects of the drug war on orphaned kids, and if you can catch it on streaming I would definitely check it out. But, even though it came out in limited release in August, it came out in Mexico in 2017, so I can’t include it.

One Cut of the Dead

Maybe the most original film I’ve seen in years? The first half is a terrific little zombie flick all in one camera shot, and somehow the second half expands on this and is ten times better. Watching this in a packed house was one of my favorite moviegoing experiences of the year. It’s one of the most funny and, again, original movies I’ve seen in years.

Shadow

UGH ALL THE GREAT FOREIGN FILMS DIDN’T COME OUT IN 2019. Anyway this movie is incredible and is maybe the best use of grayscale I’ve seen in any film.

Movies That Might’ve Made the List But I Sadly Have Not Seen Them Yet

Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Pain and Glory

1917

Bad Education

Little Women

The Souvenir

Okay, now onto the actual list…

10. Ad Astra

Brad Pitt and James Gray’s remake of Apocalypse Now in space is maybe the weirdest premise for a movie, and yet I really enjoyed Ad Astra. There’s clearly some touches of studio interference that make this movie worse (read: Brad Pitt’s narration), but the underlying themes of anxiety and depression are some of the best I’ve seen on screen. Couple that with Brad Pitt’s best performance of the year (yes), the visual splendor on display, and this movie is an easy inclusion in my top ten of the year.

9. Uncut Gems

I need to go lie down. After really enjoying the Safdie Brothers’ previous films (Good Time and Heaven Knows What), I was really excited for this movie, and I was not let down. The frenetic, dare-I-say crackhead energy that the Safdies are able to convey in their films is immensely satisfying to watch, and the way Adam Sandler channels it is one of my favorite performances of the year. The last twenty minutes of this movie is just pure panic attack.

8. The Irishman

Somehow Scorsese’s 209-minute long epic is one of the most watchable films of the year. This is just a terrific example of everyone firing on all cylinders; the performances are great, the script is great, the editing is unbelievable (this movie feels like it is two hours long), and the directing and thematic development towards the third act is some of Scorsese’s best.

7. The Farewell

A calling card for director Lulu Wang as much as it is for Awkwafina in dramatic roles, The Farewell is an absolute delight. The family dynamics throughout all feel refreshingly authentic, and the film masterfully weaves between its comedic moments and tragic undertones. If it wasn’t for some choices made at the ending, this would probably rank higher on my list.

6. El Camino

How bad was 2019 for film? A Breaking Bad movie is my sixth favorite film of the year. It doesn’t matter if we “needed” this movie or not, El Camino is just so incredibly well-made and enjoyable. It’s always a pleasure seeing something new in the Breaking Bad universe, but more than that I think this film is a genuinely beautiful swan song for one of the greatest characters in television.

5. Waves

This movie is meandering, aimless, pretentious, and completely style over substance. And yet, the last half hour of this movie hit me harder than almost anything this year. Regardless of how you feel about the characters, I feel like Waves has an overwhelmingly positive message in the end, which is to grow away from your hatred and learn to forgive and love. I’m sure many people will find the way this movie gets to that message to be kind of pointless and wandering, but to me it just turned a pretty good film into one of my favorites of the year.

4. The Mustang

My local 3-screen art house closed in April of this year. I went there as often as I could, because they were the only theater in town that would play a lot of independent and foreign films. It was the first place I saw Roma, and the first (and, let’s face it, last) time I saw Stalker on the big screen. The last night they were open, I went and saw The Mustang, not based on anything to do with the movie, just because I wanted to be there one last time. It was completely sold out, far busier than I’d ever seen them. In the past I’d always had free roam of where to sit, but that last night I was in the third row from the front.

If Ad Astra is about depression, then The Mustang is about anger, and learning to overcome your anger and grow as a person. It’s about a prison in Nevada that has a rehabilitation program where violent convicts train wild Mustangs, which are later sold to local ranches and farms. Roman (a terrific performance from Matthias Schoenaerts) is one such convict, and his personal struggle to overcome his anger is beautifully realized against the backdrop of having to fight a wild animal. (Seriously, he goes in swinging and it does not end well for him.) It’s a great story, and it’s a must-watch if you haven’t seen it. The emotional ending coupled with the fact that my favorite theater was closing left me a complete wreck when the credits rolled. (I’m starting to realize my top five films all just boil down to “the ending wrecked me”.)

3. The LEGO Movie 2: The Second Part

This is like The Mustang but for kids.

Okay okay, hear me out, I only saw this movie once when it first came out 11 months ago, and I’m not ever watching it again because I thought it was perfection. I feel like on a repeat visit the songs will become grating, the plot will feel ridiculous, and the themes of toxic masculinity that I appreciated so dearly will seem like faint whispers instead of clear subtext. And yet in the theater, I absolutely adored the songs and the plot and the clear subtext about being a better brother/man. The real-world parallels that were a surprise twist at the end of the first film are used beautifully in The Second Part, because the plot is simply just one big metaphor for a little sister who wants to play with her older brother. It’s touching, it’s funny, and it gets stuck inside your heart. It’s such a shame that the LEGO film franchise is all but dead, because if we had kept getting films like this, children’s movies would definitely be better for it.

2. Parasite

Everything fantastic about this film has already been said about it by people far smarter than me, so I’ll just say this: it is every bit as amazing as people hyped it up to be. This movie is a biting satire, a laugh-out-loud comedy, and an edge of your seat thriller. It has left an imprint on my brain since I first saw it back in October, to the point where as much as I have tried to analyze and dissect, this film, I don’t know if there’s a single flaw with it, there’s genuinely nothing I would change about this movie. If you see one movie this year, it should be Parasite.

1. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

In July of 2019, I had to make probably the biggest decision of my (brief) career thus far. I was going to leave my management position at a 24-screen theater I’d loved dearly to go work in an office. I loved everything about the movie theater, I’d worked there for almost four years, but at a certain point it just had diminishing returns. Newer upper management and constant changes coming down from the big-whigs had turned my favorite building into a place I started to resent, a place I didn’t recognize. I tried to fight the change, and re-institute everything I loved about this building that I practically grew up in, but you can’t fight change, and you shouldn’t romanticize the past.

I’ve never seen these themes more realized in film than in The Last Black Man in San Francisco. It tells the story of Jimmie Fails, a native San Franciscan who has to watch the city he’s loved his whole life descend into a rapidly gentrified hellscape that leaves many homeless and helpless. He often visits his childhood home, a beautiful three-story house with a “witch hat” on top, now owned by an older white couple. This doesn’t stop him from romanticizing the house, romanticizing the past, as he constantly visits and attempts to fix up the house, oftentimes clashing with the current inhabitants.

This disdain from the couple is an all-too-real parallel message that he’s getting from the city itself: You’re not welcome here anymore. Much as Jimmie has tied his identity to this home, and this city, he is hardly welcome in either. But for one brief instant, he gets to live his dream. The house gets stuck in a familial dispute, causing the older couple to move out. Leaving behind a big empty house that no one is occupying, Jimmie and his best friend Montgomery decide to just move right in, and have their way. They bring in all the old furniture from Jimmie’s childhood, they paint the walls, repair the original woodworking, all in service of Jimmie’s dream to simply exist in this space, and preserve something sacred.

Eventually though, reality comes crashing down, and try as he might, Jimmie can’t stay in the house, and he has to learn a hard truth: you cannot tie yourself emotionally to a physical space. Whether it’s a house, a city, a job, you simply cannot love something that doesn’t love you back. You will get hurt every time.

But it’s so easy to love. It’s so easy to play the piano in the entranceway of your childhood home. It’s so easy to relax in the sauna upstairs, or smoke on the balcony, or just lay on the floor and admire the witch hat. The Last Black Man in San Francisco makes you fall in love with this house, and with Jimmie and Montgomery, and as much as we see ourselves in them, we too have to learn the same lessons. As much as we want to inhabit a space, and get the fullest potential out of it, you cannot ever stop change, and you cannot stand in the way of it without going insane.

And maybe it was just because I was going through this personal development the first time I saw this movie, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. It stuck in my brain so much that by the time I saw it a second time, I was a complete mess; I cried four times. I cried for Jimmie, I cried for the house, and I cried for myself. I cried for the things we all lost, the things that would never be the same, and because we would have to learn to accept that. This is what’s so beautiful about The Last Black Man in San Francisco, and on top of the phenomenal acting, emotional script, and gorgeous visuals, it’s what made it my favorite film of the year.

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foliea · 5 years

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Rubber Band - Tyler Joseph Imagine

Paring: Friend!Tyler x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,630

warnings: brief mention of self harm, a bit of angst but mainly sweet

authors note: this has been plaguing my mind for days now. And honestly it’s probably my favorite fic i’ve written ever. I’m super proud of this and I hope you all like this as well. Also I spent like two and a half hours writing this, it’s 4 am I’m tired.

March 17, 2006

as I walked down the halls on my way to the gym, I tugged down the sleeves on my hoodie. Insuring no one would see what tortures I put myself through.

Just as I rounded the corner into the next corridor I felt someone run right into my chest. “Uh, sorry...” I muttered as I stuck my hand out to help the girl, who had fallen to the floor. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She took my hand and hoisted herself up. “No harm done.” She smiled while dusting off her jeans. She slowly looked me up and down, eyes lingering on my arm. I quickly looked down only to see that my sleeve had been scrunched up near my elbow.

The girl sighed as I yanked the sleeve down. There was a brief slapping noise before she extended her hand out to me. In it was a singular rubber band. “Here take this. And uh when ever you feel the need to...” She trailed off looking to my now covered arm. I nodded understanding what she meant. “Just pull it back and let it go. Keep doing that until the feeling goes away.”

Hesitantly, I took the rubber band from her. “Thank you...” I looked up realizing I had no idea what her name was.

“Y/N.” She smiled.

“Thank you Y/N.” I quickly pulled the rubber band onto my wrists, just as the warning bell rang.

“I’ll see you around...”

“Tyler.”

“Tyler.” She repeated with a small nod before walking off.

Over the next few months Y/N and I swapped numbers to keep in touch over summer.

July 6, 2011

As I walked into the small coffee shop, a bell signified my entry. Despite living in Columbus my whole life, I had still yet to come here. “I’ll be right with you!” A small yelp was left out slightly after.

I walked up to the counter and stood there awkwardly waiting for the girl to appear from the back of the shop. As I stood I inspected the store. There were two other people there, an elderly couple, sitting by the window.

“Okay sorry about that.” The girl appeared behind the counter with a grin on her face. She seemed familiar. “What can I getcha?”

I froze realizing I had no clue what I wanted. Hesitantly I looked up to the chalk board behind the girl. As I searched for something that I knew would please me I fiddled with the rubber band on my wrist.

“Ya know I gave you a rubber band in our sophomore year of high school not thinking too much about it.” Suddenly it hit me.

“Y/N?”

“That’s my name don’t wear it out.” She let out a light chuckle at her own joke. “How are you these days, Tyler?”

“Honestly? Pretty good. My band has our CD Release party in a couple days. Well I say band... It’s really just me and my friend Josh on stage singing and playing drums...”

“Sounds like a wonderful time. Maybe I’ll show up.”

“Really?” she nodded with a toothy smile on her face.

“Now, have you decided on what you want?”

I quickly ordered my drink and handed her the money, making sure to leave a little extra in the tip jar.

Maybe I’ll have to come back to this cafe more often.

July 8, 2014

I nervously stood in front of the mirror when there was a knock at the door. “Come in!”

“Hey, Ty.” Y/N smiled. “Ready for your big day?”

Although on the inside I was screaming yes. I still shook my head. “No... What if she walks out on me?”

“Tyler there is no way in hell that Jenna is going to walk out on you. You two are so in love its disgusting.” We both chuckled.

There was another knock at the door. “Tyler, Y/N c’mon we gotta go.” Quietly, we both stood up. She patted my shoulder giving me one last reassuring smile before running off to find Josh.

Ever since I had introduced the two, Jenna and Y/N became inseparable. Meaning that when it came time for Jenna to pick her bridesmaids, Y/N had to be on the list. And of course Josh would be one of my groomsmen.

----

“And yeah I know I probably should have ‘practiced’ my speech but I felt like wigging it would be better...” as josh when off on a tangent about how he didn’t practice his speech and everyone was listening intently, my mind wandered to how incredibly lucky I am. I just married my best friend and along with her, I have two of the greatest other best friends.

“Okay it looks like it’s my turn to talk.” Y/N let out a dry chuckle as as stood up. “The first time I ever met Tyler, I was on my way to chem, totally dreading it cause I had a test, when all of a sudden I run right into someone’s chest.” As she retold the story her face would falter only to perk of at certain points. “... It’s crazy to think that I made three life long best friends because of a stupid rubber band...”

She passed the mic onto one of Jenna’s other bridesmaids as she sat down, hands fiddling with something in her lap. From the distance I was at I couldn’t see but the look Josh had given me said it was something familiar.

August 25, 2016

Josh and I quickly ran off stage only to be greeted by the open arms of Y/N. “You boys did amazing.” We smiled pulling her into another hug.

“Couldn’t do it without our number one fan cheering us on!” Josh laughed poking her stomach

“Cheering? No. Taking the best concert pics you’ll see in your life? Yes.” All three of us laughed again walking back to our dressing room to gather out belongings.

As we packed I could see Y/N’s smile falter while she quietly pulled at something on her wrist. “You boys... and girl... ready to hit the road?” Our tour manager asked, peaking his head through the door slightly.

“Yep!” Y/N jumped up off the couch quickly, turning to us. “I’m gonna head out to the bus to get ahead on editing these photos.” and with that she walked out.

December 28, 2018

“I remember the day pretty well for it being twelve years ago.” Slowly I told the story of how Y/N and I met, how I invited her to our CD Release, how she comforted me when I got nervous before my wedding, how she would take photos for us on tour.

I could see her family crying in the front row, Josh quietly wiping his tears away as he held onto her little sister. Jenna was staring at me, silently encouraging me to finish.

“But most importantly I remember the last time I saw her. There was something broken behind her E/C eyes. Something that I knew was too late to fix.” I sighed. “I didn’t think too much of it at the time though, I thought maybe she had spilled coffee on herself this morning, or maybe she was stood up on a date. I just wished I would have noticed that she was grabbing the rubber band on her wrist just a bit more than usual.”

I rubbed my hand over my face, messing with my own rubber band. “I’m sorry.” I swiftly put down the microphone and ran off the to bathroom.

September 30, 2019

“Hey Y/N. Sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while. Tour, you know how it is. Anyways I thought I should say hi since it is you’re birthday and everything. Life’s been hectic recently. Josh and I just finished the final leg of the Bandito tour. The fans love it, they miss your photos by the way. Like a crazy ton. We’ve already started working on our next album. It’s gonna be better than any of our others. Okay maybe not Regional since that’s always been you’re favorite- actually scratch that, it will definitely be better than Regional. Everyone misses having you around. Especially Josh, but he’s been doing better recently. Jenna misses having another girl on tour with her. Oh that reminds me, Jenna designed our newest tour bus. Its awesome. Or I guess in Twenty One Pilots fashion, sick as frick. My mom misses you as well. She says I need someone around to convince me not to get anymore tattoos. I still have that uke you made me. The one with the art from each album. Don’t get mad at me but I added yellow tape so that Trench fits into it as well. Wait I almost forgot, Jenna and I have a kid coming soon, we don’t know if they’ll be a boy or girl but we decided that if it is a girl we’ll name her after you since you mean so much to us. I still have all the Polaroids you would take of me, you, and Josh. It’s crazy to think of how long it’s been since those were taken. It’s getting pretty late so I think I should go... Bye Y/N.” I slowly stood up brushing the dirt off my pants. I started to walk away before stopping in my tracks and turning around. “Wait I was going to sing for you... one sec.”

I sat down again pulling my ukulele out of my bag before starting to play Truce. “Take pride in what is sure to die.” I sang as I strummed the last cord. Silently I removed the rubber band from my wrist and gently placed it on the ground. “I’m sorry friend.” I said turning away from the grave.

#tyler joseph #tyler joseph fanfiction #tyler joseph imagine #tyler joseph x reader #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots fanfiction #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots x reader #josh dun #josh dun fanfiction #josh dun imagine #josh dun x reader #sophies writing #sophies favorite alien boy #sophies favorite skeleton boy

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nagatsukinura119 · 5 years

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Day 3 at Japan Expo Malaysia (28th July 2019)

Today was the last day. The day that I would last see the KiREI members. Cue gonna be a cry baby and go through Post Concert Depression (look it up hahah). Since I wanted to make the most of it, I wore the KiREI T-shirt I bought the first day I met them, which is gorgeous by the way (albeit it was a stock from their concert in Bangkok), especially the back side and I really love it!

As I said in the part one in Day 2’s report, I promised Hanapii that I was gonna draw an illustration for them. But here’s the thing, I initially thought to just post it on Twitter, but then my father said, “You should show them tomorrow” and that was exactly what I did! Now, the previous night’s adrenaline rush and fatigue was no joke, I was so exhausted, and my mind was so jumbled since I was still processing what happened at AKB48’s concert and at the airport (toldya it was VERY overwhelming). Thankfully I brought my drawing tablet in this trip (I don’t know why I did, but thank God I did). I barely finished sketching until I succumbed to exhaustion and went to sleep. The next morning I literally finished breakfast within 10 minutes and went back to our room and stayed there to finish the illustration. Since their last concert started at 2, and I had like 3 hours left to finish it (I wanted to be there by 1). Thankfully I finished on time and I quickly made my way to Pavilion.

When I arrived, once again I was surprised with the lack of people waiting at the stage (outdoor by the way), and this time I didn’t care what people thought and I just stood at the front row under the blazing sun, all in black clothes, and texting to my Discord fellas (lol). So first Austin and another host went up the stage and gave a quick introduction about KiREI and apparently KiREI was made up of 3 disbanded idol groups named “Tokyo Clear’s Smile” (this is the group where Hanapii originally came from, which I found out a couple nights ago lol), “Spring Chubit” and “Astarisk”. The girls were called in and dear gosh! Today they wore yukata again, but different designs than the first day! I just really like it when J-idols wear yukatas or any form of traditional clothing. It’s even more amazing that these girls were not just dancing, but also jumping in them! You have to admire their abilities, if not, impressed, cuz here’s the thing some of their dances were pretty vigorous, and after seeing their performances 3 times now, I could tell that Chori-chan is the ‘genki’ girl as she tended to jump the highest, dance with the most energy and also the one to rile up the audience. Miayan has the best and brightest smile that would capture anyone’s hearts (which explained why she has a fan account). Meanwhile Hanapii has the best balance in terms of her dance, her movements weren’t too extreme, and the fluidity and precision made her dance moves better, hence for me she’s the best dancer among the trio.

For this performance, Mianyan noticed me the most and as I said, her smiles were SO BLINDING! I could feel myself getting overcome by it that I had to look through my camera lens instead of my own eyes lmaoooo. Since I’m heavily biased for Hanapii I tended to look at her the most, and I couldn’t help but realized that she seemed a bit down today. I guess it wasn’t surprising since 3 days straight of performing and doing meet-and-greets could tire anyone. However, when she made eye contacts, she made sure to smile as much as she could (God I love her). Meanwhile, Chori-chan climbed in my Oshimen radar because of her bright and energetic interactions with the audience, including myself, especially whenever she invited the audience to chant with her. She’s really like the Takamina in this trio (that’s what I call ‘charisma’!)

Before they started the fifth song, Chori-chan told us that it would be their last song (cue the “Eeeeehhh~” by the audience), and I started to sob and felt my heart twinge a bit. Emotions from the previous night in the airport kind of resurfaced and once again I told myself to not cry or that would make them feel bad if they noticed. Their last song was ‘Dame Otoko’ and I’d say this was my most favorite after ‘Say Yeah! Away!’ (which I kept humming and singing to when I was at the airport the night before) and ending it with this song just made it twice the impact. The performance went splendidly but there was one point again the tears just started to leak, and I had to use my camera to hide my face. Again, I was like “NO. Don’t ruin this for them!”

After they were done, they girls professed their love for being in Malaysia, wanting to come back again (OH HECK YAS, please come back again! And I will too!) Then everyone was called for the obligatory group picture, and now me being in the first row finally paid off!

After the photo session the girls needed some time to freshen up for the last greet-and-meet session. And being the excited fan I was, I waited nearby at their booth, trying not to stand out as much as I could lol. When the booth opened, I immediately lined up behind some prepared fans. This time the man who was selling the merch definitely remembered me as he was like “Welcome back!” This time I was gonna be greedy and bought two Cheki tickets for each member and a towel. He was counting the total cost and I told him “Sanbyaku ringgit (300 ringgit)” which impressed him, and he was like “Oh! Your Japanese is good!” While I was telling him that wasn’t true, he noticed the KiREI T-shirt I was wearing and smiled even more. Honestly I really wanted to shake his hand right then and there, to thank him for his great work, but we just ended up chatting a bit more hahahah.

Before I was about to join the line, Hanapii saw me and she thought I was gonna immediately take pictures with her (oh you sweet darling). But I told her that today I was going to take pictures with everyone, and that I would start from Mianyan, then Chori-chan and finally her. When I went to the line Chori-chan spotted me and immediately assumed that I was gonna take pics with Hanapii as she asked “With Hanapii, right?” I told her I was gonna take pictures with everyone this time, and she was VERY happy, as in she started hopping (ADORABLE).

So I took a picture with Mianyan first. She kept saying I was cute and ‘comel’ (Malay for ‘cute’) and she wrote that on the polaroid frame. I told her where I was from, and since she had a confused look (cuuuuuteee) so I explained the location. I also thanked her for following me on Twitter (she was the first one who followed me). For the first round she and I took a pic with the freshly bought towel hahaha (she was really impressed that I wore their T-shirt too). I was gonna take another picture with her since I bought 2 tickets for each of them but she needed to assist to take pictures for other people, so being the social awkward I was, I stood back awkwardly and ended up going back in line since I wasn’t sure if I should’ve stayed and wait for Hanapii and Chori-chan to be free so I could take pictures with them.

While I was lining up in the very long line I realized Hanapii ran past me to the end of the line to give the last guy a sign that says ‘the end of line’ ah so adorable, at the same time I guiltily thought “Ah crap, I bought 6 tickets which meant I basically took 4 to 5 people’s chance to interact with the girls…!” When I reached them, I made sure to use two of my Cheki tickets in one go so that I didn’t have to go back in line as I specifically said, “Two tickets”. Chori-chan was so happy when I said I was using two tickets (can she get more adorable??). The first round she and I did a heart pose and when she was signing it poor girl thought my main name was “Nagatsuki” she actually remembered me on Twitter (gasp!) and she double confirmed my name with Hanapii like “‘Nura-chan’ dakke? (Was it ‘Nura-chan’?” And Hanapii was like, “Un! Nura-chan!” LOOOL! Before taking a picture for the second round, I told her on my Twitter I post my art and showed her an illustration of them that I made. She went “Amazing!” so many times I thought she was going fangirling as she started hopping on the spot (SO KYOOT). For the second round she held me close with one hand while her other hand was patting my head (I find this a bit endearing since she and I are about the same height while the other two are taller). While waiting for the polaroid to print and while she was signing them she kept saying I was cute and all, then asked if I was travelling so I told her that I came here in order to visit the event, that I was willing to fly over. She then asked me to come and see them again in Japan and before I could even respond she pulled my pinky with hers and made a pinky promise looooooooool. I remember I was so shocked that I stuttered, “Ahhh yeah yeah I’ll definitely try”.

Since Mianyan was busy I had to take pictures with Hanapii first in order to let the line go smoothly. I don’t care how many times she has greeted me with the cutesy “Nura-chan~~~” my heart still fluttered so much! Before we could take a picture, I mentioned about the previous day’s promise that I’d draw something for them and showed my illustration to her. She was like “Eh?!?! No way!” as I told her that I finished it earlier that day. She was so shocked that she was speechless and Chori came over to us and was like “Amazing right! She even drew my red ribbon!” while pointing at my phone. They traded a couple of words together and I just stood there smiling like an idiot. So we ended up taking a picture with that illustration lol.

For the second round, Hanapii was so happy with my visits, my support and the illustration that she was thanking me so many times and she literally hugged me so closely for the picture (I’m not joking, even I was like “Is hugging okay???” and she was like “Yes its completely okay!”). I thought that I still needed to put some distance between our faces, just as precaution, but nope, Hanapii pulled me so close that our cheeks were touching each other! IM SO GLAD IM A GIRL cuz so far I’d seen when they hugged guys (I was the only girl who lined up for the meet-and-greet), they still put some distance. So yeah, I was SO HAPPY with how Hanapii treated me. I then told her that I teared up a bit during their last song since it was their last day and she was like “Eehh don’t cry~” and started patting my head. She then said, “Let’s meet again in Japan, I’ll wait for you.” I thought I’ve died enough. But this comment, THIS COMMENT. I remember I blanked out for a second or two and just nodded (I couldn’t make that promise since I needed to consider my circumstances but MAN I WANTED TO PROMISE HER SO BAD). I was very reluctant to leave and this may sound pretentious but it seemed like she didn’t want me to go either cuz when she held my hands it was firmer than the last 3 times she shook my hands. Before leaving she asked me if I was gonna attend the closing ceremony later that night. Sweetheart you know I won’t miss it for the world so I promised her that I would.

For the last handshake I told Mianyan that I cried during their last performance and she was like “Ehhh~ don’t cry~ were they happy tears?” I took a second or two to rethink my words and spewed “It was both happy and grieving tears since this is the last day” hence we both ended up laughing. I was gonna show her the illustration on my phone, she ended up commenting my Murayama Yuiri lockscreen “Ooh~ cute!” and I almost had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying “Ah that’s another idol (who happens to be my waifu)” so I just giggled a thanks. Thankfully she was also very happy with the illustration that she took the phone from me (she also added I must post it on Twitter). She then asked me if I just started liking idols (girl if only you knew hahah) so I told her I’ve always loved idols. After taking the picture, Chori-chan told us I was good at winking (I didn’t realize I winked to be honest) so Mianyan went “Ehh seriously??” and quickly checked the polaroid frame and was like “Oh yeah!” while I was fluttering, going “oh nononono, I didn’t mean to do that”. Then she asked something I did not see coming, “Can you do it to me?” and I was like “Eh?” then she said SO CUTELY “A wink”. I laughed embarrassingly at first, but I did it anyway and she was soooo happy. I knew Mianyan is the boldest among this trio but guuurrrrllll you’re climbing on my Oshimen radar too strong! And that’s how I ended my last meet-and-greet session with KiREI members in Malaysia.

Day 2 reports are here (KiREI) and here (AKB48)! To be continued in Closing Ceremony!

Bonus pictures:

#Japan Expo Malaysia 2019 #KiREI

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montymcallister · 5 years

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( 5 ) New Messages

W117 Main Street, Renter’s Row, Downtown Edgewood July 14, 2019, 2:28am

Monty had Known it would be a tequila kind of day long before it had actually become a tequila kind of day. He’d woken up with the certainty settled solidly in his gut the way feelings sometimes took root after a dream. What he hadn’t expected--perhaps hadn’t remembered from the Dream--was that it would be a tequila kind of day because of the absolute shitshow that had rapidly unfolded at what was supposed to be a simple family meal.

His siblings had wanted him to get to know their kids, and his parents had said--indirectly, through Donnie--that they had something they wanted to discuss with him. So they’d tried for something more relaxed than their usual weekly family dinner. Likely because he had never shown up for another, after the Ambush Dinner.

And then it had all gone to hell when Clarissa and Elias hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of trying for a deeper reading.

So. Tequila. Cheap, brand-new-bottle tequila he knew he could kill any built-up alcohol tolerance he had with. It wouldn’t be enough to actually fix anything, but it would hopefully be enough to satisfy the ache in his chest that had refused to fade since The Fuck-Up.

Of course, the closer he got to being completely smashed, the more actually going through all the messages and calls he’d ignored since leaving his parents’ house earlier that day sounded like a reasonable idea.

How much worse could his day get?

With that thought in mind, he boosted himself up to sit beside the bottle of tequila on the kitchen counter, then settled back to dive in, a glass of tequila in one hand, his phone in the other.

From: Clarissa 1:48 PM Monty come back 1:50 PM We didn’t mean to upset you 1:56 PM Please call me back We’re worried 2:10 PM At least tell us you’re not still driving 2:14 PM Monty 2:21 PM Fine. Call Mom when you’re feeling better

Funny, how not once in her whole series of texts had she even attempted to apologize.

Monty threw the tumbler in the direction of the sink, barely flinching as the glass shattered on impact with the sink’s interior. He braced one hand against the lip of the counter as he shifted into a more comfortable sitting position, his other hand bringing the tequila bottle to his lips.

Funny, how she claimed to be a family-oriented person, with all the shit she pulled.

Funny, that what she never saw what she did as a psychic to be in conflict with her oath as a doctor. Do no harm his ass.

From: Elias 1:49 PM We’re really worried about you 1:58 PM At least call someone back

Figures, for the guy most likely to have known what state Monty had left in to have been the most obtuse to what he’d done. Two measly texts in the span of an hour.

From: Actually Satan 1:52 PM Ur freaking mom n dad out

The insults and strong strong language of the next texts from Nate nearly had him hurling his phone across the room.

Asshole. Motherfucking-

No. No. He was not letting Nate get to him. No

From: Bastard 2:03 PM This is childish, even for you.

Fucker.

If he hadn’t been planning on finishing the tequila at some point, the bottle would have found itself following in the tumbler’s wake.

Fucker.

He hurled a metal water bottle--swiped from the counter he was sitting on--across the room to spare the tequila from his flash of fury. It clanged loudly against the cabinets across the way, but did little to actually soothe his flaring temper.

God, did he even want to know what his parents might have had to say about the afternoon?

From: Dad 2:02 PM Answer your phone. 2:11 PM Chester

From: Mom 1:54 PM We need to know you’re okay. 1:56 PM Come back home.

He didn’t even want to unpack whatever it was that left his stomach churning unpleasantly after reading the few brief texts from his parents. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. When had they ever gone out of their way to express more than a passing concern for him, unless he failed to meet their standards?

Monty exhaled heavily.

Would it even be worth listening to the voicemails? If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t even look at who’d called. He’d just delete them all and be done with it. Right?

How masochistic was it to just let all the new voicemails play without looking at the display? He pondered the thought even as he did just that, lightly tossing his phone across the gap between the counters so it landed out of reach.

At least if there was something terrible, his phone wouldn’t suffer the immediate consequences.

One missed call: 1:51 PM From: Clarissa One new voicemail: “Monty, please come back to the house. You shouldn’t be driving right now. We can fix this. Mom and Dad can fix it, if you want. Just call me back, okay?”

One missed call: 1:54 PM From: Clarissa One new voicemail: “Monty. Call me back.”

One missed call: 1:55 PM From: Elias One new voicemail: “Monty, it’s Elias. You’re scaring everyone. We need you to come home.”

One missed call: 4:48 PM From: Ali One new voicemail: “Hey, it’s me. You don’t have to call me back or anything. I know the others have probably been on your case for a while, now. I just want you to know I love you. So. I love you. Be safe.”

He sighed and tipped his head back to rest against the cabinets behind him.

He’d have to call her in the morning, let her know he’d made it home safely. He didn’t like the idea of her worrying for so long, but given how late it was, she was probably asleep, by this point. It was for the best, anyway. He didn’t want her exposed to him drunk and bitter, anyway.

One missed call: 1:30 AM One new voicemail: “Hey, you.” --

He stilled, the bottle halfway to his lips. Monica.

The ache he’d been carrying in his chest--feelings he had been trying not to examine too closely, beyond determining that they made his throat feel tight, and that the worst of them seemed to be attached to memories Clarissa had dug up--twisted. Some desperate, gaping expanse of loneliness soured the taste of tequila that still lingered on his tongue.

Suddenly the decision to spend the night alone had been a horrible oversight.

-- “I didn’t think you had work today, but I’unno, maybe you do. I know it’s not late enough for you to have gone to bed. Anyway, I sent you some pictures from this morning. The surf wasn’t the best when I went, but the sunrise was gorgeous.” --

Fuck, he missed her.

-- “My parents were asking about you again. If you’re not careful, I’m just gonna give them your number, and you can deal with them yourself. My mom keeps asking if you’re eating enough, you know. If she had it her way, she’d probably be sending you meals. Miggy’s back for the summer, too. I could probably talk him into bringing some of her cooking out to you. He’s been dying to meet Ali, you know. I sent him that demo of hers that you passed along to me, and he literally will not shut up about how in love with her music he is.” --

He should tell that to Ali when he called her. Maybe that would be enough to distract her from worrying so much about him.

-- “Okay, I’m not sure if you’re machine’s gonna kick me if I keep going like this, so I’ll wrap this up. But you better call me back when you get around to listening to this. I miss your stupid ass. Night, Monty.”

His phone idled after Monica’s message had ended, eventually disconnecting from his voicemail and falling dark when he failed to reach for it.

The shuddering exhale that left him seemed loud in the stifling silence that followed. When he reached up to rub at his face, his hand came away wet, and he tasted salt when he wet his lips.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.

After a long moment--marked by a quiet filled only by a few faint hitches in his breathing, and the slow drip, drip of the kitchen sink’s leaky faucet--he left the tequila on the countertop and eased himself back down to his feet.

He was still slated for the dinner shift at the Lake House. And he had to call Ali in the morning. Maybe Monica, too. He definitely had to call them both at some point before the end of tomorrow. The end of today? He didn’t even know, anymore. Fuck, he was tired.

With another heavy sigh, he shuffled off in the direction of the couch, leaving his phone where it sat.

He’d deal with everything when he woke up. He just needed to sleep.

#sp #alcohol tw #the continuation of Monty's Terrible Horrible Very Bad Day #(an ongoing saga)

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dentalrecordsmusic · 5 years

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RIOT RIOT RIOT Fest: A Retrospective (Sept. 13-15th)

Words and photos by Ari Jindracek.

Anyone who has spoken to me since the Riot Fest lineup was announced could tell you, probably with a grimace, how excited I was for Riot Fest. The ones I talked to more would probably mention the acts I was looking forward to in the next breath. A music festival for the music I love, in the city I love? To say I was looking forward to this would be a gross understatement. However, I was not prepared, at all, for what Riot Fest would actually be like.

The first thing you need to know about Riot Fest if you've never gone is that it's not just about the shows. There are carnival rides. There are people on stilts. There is more free Pedialyte than you can drink. There's a sculpture of John Stamos made of butter for reasons I can't begin to fathom. The official name on the stage dressings was Riot Fest and Carnival, and that's pretty apt: I was basically going to a carnival for three straight days. Did I ride the rides, you ask? No, because it was 5 bucks for one go on the Tilt-a-Whirl. The ambiance, though, was really fun to be a part of. That probably contributed to Riot Fest being the only fest where I've ever made connections with people. I got two phone numbers (three if you count fellow editor Cae Rosch as someone I met at Riot Fest, even though we'd talked online beforehand) and a business card for someone's Etsy store, and I chatted less at length with probably a dozen people. There was a real sense of kinship in the crowd. People would actually save your barricade spot, and, during Microwave on Saturday, a clump of people actually helped me fight my way forward in the crowd. Maybe it was just my crowds or my blind luck, but I felt supported at Riot Fest, both by my fellows in the front rows and by the staff who gave me extra cherry Pedialyte because I said it was my favorite.

People don't go to Riot Fest just because of Butter Stamos, though (at least, I don't think so). I, like everyone else, was there for the music. At the barricade before shows (and oh, was I at the barricade), people would sometimes ask each other, "Who's your band?" Mine was Senses Fail, who, in an expression of love or maybe good publicity, were playing two sets as a way of compensating for the Chicago date they were forced to cancel during the polar vortex earlier this year. The other acts I wanted to see above others included Frank Iero and the Future Violents, Against Me!, Rise Against, and Glassjaw. I planned around these six sets; about half of the bands I cover here were bands I saw because their set was on while I was camping a stage. This is not the only approach to Riot Fest, and it probably isn't even the best, but it's the one I took. Due to the sheer volume of bands I saw, I will focus only on the ones I found most notable since if I wrote at length about all of them, this review would be a 20-page essay. All sets were excellent in their own way, even if they weren't my favorites; at no point did I wish I was seeing another set, though. Every band I saw, though hugely different, was stellar. They wouldn't be on the bill otherwise.

On day one, I missed the first band at the Radicals stage by minutes; I don't often miss openers, so I felt awful, but the dispersal of the crowd after the set left me a wide-open spot leaning against the barricade. Here I met my first Riot Fest buddy (shout out to Salem) and saw Anti-Flag, whose music I had not heard at all before. They immediately cemented themselves in my good books, not only because their music was terrific, but also because they talked at length about the current political hell America finds itself in with a conviction that their crowd was going to change it. I almost started crying during their speech about gun violence, and again when they talked about how distraction politics are screwing over disadvantaged communities. I also collected from them my first ever setlist, by bartering for it with my first ever band guitar pick. (The setlist has a chunk ripped out of it, which is why the person next to me was willing to trade it. Their loss.)

Senses Fail was the next band up, but I'll talk about both of their sets at the same time. After spending my time at Radicals stage, I bounced around the festival a bit: I grabbed some merch and a giant funnel cake, then tried to watch Dashboard Confessional but couldn't get a spot that wasn't behind the light and sound tent, where people were having drunk conversations. The next set I saw, my last of day one, was Glassjaw. I was lucky that they were playing Worship and Tribute because that's the only one of their albums I've listened to enough to know any lyrics. As this was an album play set timed almost exactly to the length of the album, there wasn't a lot of time for the band to interact with the crowd. Glassjaw played a steadier set rather than a harder set, as is their style. To my memory, there wasn't a lot of crowd surfing or moshing (although this might not necessarily be true; I was in the outskirts of the crowd). Trappings aside, the album was amazing live. The crowd clearly knew the words to the songs -- one perk of knowing the exact setlist ahead of time -- and the mix of long, sustained notes with the rich instrumentals was stunning.

The second day of Riot Fest, I got to Douglas Park comfortably early (aka, before the gates were opened) and headed for Rebel Stage as soon as I could. This was 11AM. I would be camping there until about 7PM, minus a short bathroom and water break. The first band on Rebel Stage was Monarchy Over Monday, which was a notable act to me for two reasons. First of all, they were all high school students and the youngest band at this year's Riot Fest. Second, the head of my department at work knows their parents. (The head of my department was there. Let me tell you, it's a bit weird to see your boss's boss's boss in overalls and a band shirt while she tells you how to properly break in your new Docs). I'll admit I wasn't expecting Monarchy Over Monday to shred, but they wouldn't be playing Riot Fest if they weren't good, and they were very good. The only thing I thought they were really lacking was stage presence, but that was only to be expected since they didn't have the longest history of big shows to pull from. They're good and I'm sure they'll learn.

The Rebel stage stayed pretty low-key until just before The Damned Things came on. Like, I would bet, a lot of the other members of the crowd, I'd heard of The Damned Things as the side project of Fall Out Boy members Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley. Beyond this, I went in aware of all of one of their songs, and I'd pulled that from the official Riot Fest playlist. (Honestly, I was only prepared for 3, maybe 4 of the sets I saw at Riot Fest. I didn't know anything about anyone. It's hard to research bands when your default is listening to the same album on Spotify until you wear it out). I can easily say that I enjoyed watching The Damned Things more than I've ever enjoyed a Fall Out Boy show, and that's without the emotional investment and the lyrics in my head. The band played hard and the crowd went hard. The frontman chatted and joked with the audience (I can remember that he played matchmaker for a friendship between two dads who had never met) and the music, including that one song I knew, was fun to hear, to clap along with, and to sing when possible.

The colossal crowd stuck around for Microwave next (I barely remember their set, so focused was I on not falling over as I tried to claw my way back to the spot I'd asked someone to save while I got water and then over as I fought my way back to the barricade) and then Senses Fail. Now, I've been listening to Senses Fail with the fervor of obsession, on the day of writing this, since August, with breaks of a few days at the most. I'm not the best at learning lyrics, but I could sing at least the chorus of every single song they pulled out over two sets. Three of their members keep liking my tweets. You could say I'm biased in Senses Fail's favor as I write this. But, with two high energy, high caliber sets, how could I not be? On day one, they played all of Let It Enfold You, one of their most popular albums, and on day two, the remastered version of their first release, From the Depths of Dreams; the popular single "Can't Be Saved" was also featured on both days.

The stage show featured Buddy Nielsen doing dances that clearly marked him as a dad, but, like, a cool dad, and twirling and throwing his microphone with such confidence that I never once worried he'd drop it. I will not pretend to be unbiased in my analysis of Senses Fail’s set. I have been listening to their music in days-long bursts since July. I had tickets to see their canceled show over the winter. Senses Fail’s sets were the ones I was most looking forward to, and I was not disappointed. True, like Glassjaw, they did not have much time to interact with fans. Beyond introducing the band and a few songs, there was hardly any audience interaction (I managed to interact with the band, though, since I was at barricade; during one of the songs on From the Depths of Dreams, I gave frontman Buddy Nielsen a little wave and he waved back at me in abject confusion). I can hardly remember looking anywhere other than back to see if I needed to hold anyone or up at the dervish that was Buddy Nielsen for the two sets.

Everyone on stage looked like they were having the time of their lives; I would routinely catch them smiling bright, though they’d usually get back into their music before I could get a picture. It wasn’t just a good set musically, it was fun to watch and fun to be a part of. I happened to make friends before Senses Fail on both days, too (shout out to Salem and Jace), so I was enjoying the show with people I knew. In my crowning moment of Riot Fest glory, I got a hand on Senses Fail’s day two setlist; I ended up sharing it with my new concert pal, because I’m a nice person, but I don’t think I have ever cherished a piece of paper more. If Senses Fail had played on Sunday, too, or any other day after Riot Fest, I would drop anything to go see them (as of writing, they’re still on tour, so go see them and record a video for me if they play “Blackout”).

The final act I saw on day two was Rise Against, the only band on the lineup I’ve covered before. This marked the third time I had seen Rise Against in a single year, and it was, for obvious reasons, drastically different than the other two sets of theirs I had seen. What I remember most isn’t the songs they played -- singles, mostly, as one does at Riot Fest -- but the way they talked about their hometown of Chicago. Frontman Tim said that he grew up near Douglas Park, the site of the festival, and later talked about writing “Swing Life Away” (my favorite Rise Against song) in a neighborhood near the one I currently live in. As a resident of Chicago, I always love hearing people talk about it and hearing the joy with which the frontman of the band talked about his home, which had come out to support him in a big way, was more powerful to me than hearing “Savior” again. The music was great, obviously. The music was just not what I was thinking about; I was thinking about my place in time, at my first music festival in the city I consider my home.

On the third day, I arrived early again, got water, and made a beeline for the only stage I had not yet spent any time at, the Rise stage, to camp out for Frank Iero and the Future Violents. I got there maybe fifteen minutes after the first people were admitted for the day and couldn’t get a spot at the barricade. Two bands (Ultra Q, which I had heard of in former incarnation Mt. Eddy, and highly-sensual ska band Save Ferris) played beforehand, but the crowd didn’t thin as people, myself included, craned their necks, searching for the Future Violents’ uniforms. The crowd was different than the acts I had been front-and-center for on the previous two days: they were louder before the band actually came on, cheering for the band members as they came on stage to check their levels, and more subdued for the first half of the set, refraining from mosh pits and crowd surfing entirely, despite the cutthroat wave of people trying to get as far forward as possible, crushing me and the others in the second row. The crowd turned around when the band played “Medicine Square Garden,” my favorite song of the Frank Iero solo era, and the crowd surfing became nearly constant. It was almost dangerous; I saw someone get kicked in the face, and I wrenched my shoulder trying to hoist a crowd surfer into security’s arms. The band had middling audience interaction, somewhere between Rise Against and Glassjaw, but the crowd would’ve gone wild with or without it, so in love were they with the band.

Despite knowing very few songs by Against Me!, I was amped to see them. I caught their set at Wicker Park Fest last year and live close enough to Laura Jane Grace that, in theory, I could pass her on the street. After the Future Violents set and, you know, the other two days of Riot Fest, I thought it might be prudent for me to chill in the back of the crowd and not fight my way into the pit, especially since I was not prepared to sing along. Despite the fact that this was also a packed set -- the band was playing not one but two big-ticket albums, Reinventing Axl Rose and Transgender Dysphoria Blues, and this was after they had played two albums the night before -- the band took their time between songs for Laura to reiterate that Riot Fest was her favorite festival two or three times, and their set was even over early. A well-oiled machine of punk rock, they drove through the albums with finesse, excellent musicianship, and help from the screaming crowd. The only weird thing about the set was that, halfway through, a chunk of people peeled away to go see the B-52s, which wasn't about Against Me! but about how Riot Fest schedules their acts. I've known for some time that I need to know way more about Against Me!, but after having the time of my life singing along to "True Trans Soul Rebel," which is one of the handful of their songs I remember, I know that next time an opportunity comes around for me to catch one of their sets, I'm going to be ready.

This was where my Riot Fest adventure ended for the weekend. I had intended to check out Taking Back Sunday, but when faced with the choice between sticking around and getting home at midnight only to wake up for work at five the next morning, I made the choice that got my blistered feet out of my brand new Docs faster. I regret that on and off, but I had experienced so many things in three days that I am still overwhelmed by it. In trying to remember even my favorite sets from Riot Fest, I just get a blur of things in my mind: reaching over the barricade for a setlist, holding up crowd surfers, feeling like I was about to cry and laughing like a freak with adrenaline; meeting eyes with performers, shaking hands with new friends, waiting for unfortunate amounts of time to fill my crumpled water bottle so I could turn it into cherry Pedialyte. There's a reason why people from all over come to Riot Fest, and it's that, within that blur of memories, I know I had the best time of my life. I'm already looking forward to next year's lineup.

Ari Jindracek needs to know where Buddy Nielsen got that shirt with the flowers on it, like, two weeks ago. You can find Ari on Twitter.

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Subscribe to the DRM YouTube channel.

#ari jindracek #riot fest #riot fest and carnival #live review #senses fail #taking back sunday #dashboard confessional #against me!#glassjaw #microwave #frank iero #frank iero and the future violents #Laura Jane Grace #save ferris #the damned things #monarchy over monday

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markrichardson · 6 years

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My Year in Spotify Listening

Like a lot of people I checked out the Spotify year-end summary thingy, and since Spotify is only a certain percentage of my listening, the results were surprising, and I tried to figure out what it meant. In general, I listen to new music via iTunes, if I am sent promos. That only encompasses a certain amount of new music of course, but if I’m sent a download, I tend to use that for my listening all year long. Often, I’m “done with” an album more or less by the time it comes out, but sometimes I’ll keep listening (as w/ DJ Koze this year) and I do that with my promo files. My Spotify listening tends to be a mix of things I stick on a few different playlists based on mood or genre, and they could come from anywhere (but they aren’t usually new).

In terms of my favorite artists (Bill Evans wound up in my top spot, somehow, followed by Joni Mitchell) it was hard to figure out how it’d happened, because I didn’t spend the year obsessed with either. Then I looked at my 100 most played songs, and that did bring back a few things. I’m not sure if the whole list is in order, but the first 5 songs in the playlist are the 5 listed when Spotify gave me my most-listened-to tracks of the year, so I think so? Anyway, that’s what I am going with here. This is how my Top 10 songs show up on the playlist, in order, with one exception: in the middle of the list was Bow Wow Wow’s “See Jungle,” which I already wrote about on Tumblr 8 years ago (and about which I have very little to say now, except that yes I do still listen to this song a fair amount), so I’ve omitted that and included No. 11.

Wussy: “Runaway” This was my favorite song of the year, it has 600 plays on Youtube and 5,400 on Spotify, which makes me a little sad. Technically it’s not from this year—Wussy put this out on a small-release tape or CD-R a few years ago—but I’m still counting it. This is the rare case where the streaming media playcounts tend to match the responses of folks I’ve talked to about this song—I mentioned to 4 or 5 people, and in each case they said “Yeah that’s kind of nice I guess...why do you like it so much?” I’ll try to answer that here.

First I should say that I have no real interest in or knowledge of Wussy. They’re an indie rock band from Ohio, most notable at this point for the fact that Robert Christgau loves them, and has written rapturous reviews of their work over the years, which surely has helped them to achieve whatever small amount of notoriety they have. I checked them out here and there but they didn’t make much of an impression on me. I wish I could remember how I came across this particular song, but I can’t, probably either Twitter or a streaming media algorithm. But I loved it immediately, like, stop-what-you-are-doing-and-listen kind of loved. It just clicked.

The first thing that comes to mind is the chorus: “I love you, let’s run away.” That’s the theme of so many of my favorite songs, I mean, the first album I bought in my life was “Born to Run,” and if you could sum up the first three Springsteen albums in in 6 words, “I love you, let’s run away” wouldn’t be bad. And I think I liked that this song didn’t try for poetic phrasing, just said it in the simplest way possible.

But the romance of a song like this has a shade of darkness to it, and that draws me in even more. Escape is never a long-term strategy. Eventually you have to figure out how to make life work when you’re in the thick of it. So while it’s such an appealing dream to exit the world with someone you’re crazy about, there is a shelf life to that sort of gesture. I relate to this idea of being fed up with everything in the moment and wanting to jump in the car with the only person who gets you, but eventually, the car is is going to need gas. What then?

I didn’t know when I first heard this song that it was a cover, so the immediate impact of it was as a Wussy song. But I learned that it was written and recorded by another Ohio artist that people in the band had known, a woman named Jenny Mae. She died last year. Pitchfork did a news story on her passing. She was 49. And when I found that it was her song, I listened to her version and I loved it almost as much (but not quite), though her take also made my Spotify Top 20. I did think enough of her version to order the 7-inch, which was her first release. When I read about Jenny Mae’s life, the song took on another layer of meaning. She suffered from mental illness and self-medicated with alcohol. And she was described by people who knew her as brilliant and creative and hilarious but also impulsive and self-destructive. Which for me gives a sentiment like “No one likes us anyway / I hate my job / Sweet, sweet are the innocent / I love you, let’s run away” and “40 ounce between your legs/ Shakin up my heart / Turn around and look at me / Light another smoke” a different tint. These are the kinds of things you say when in the throes of a rush of feeling, but they’re not impulses you can safely follow for a lifetime, even though goddammit, sometimes I want to.

Bo Diddley: “Nursery Rhyme” In Richmond early this year I bought an old Bo Diddley album called The Originator. I saw it in a used bin, it was $20, and, it was pure instinct, I had a feeling it was interesting. For me, buying used records, $20 is a fair amount of money, I don’t pay that for something I’ve no idea about, typically. But something compelled me to pick it up. I was intrigued that it had none of the hits I knew. And I took it home and when I put it on a short while later it blew my mind. This surprised me because on the one hand it sounds so much like the idea of “Bo Diddley” I keep in my brain, the one rhythm we know from the song he named after himself, but this was just so controlled, so well rendered, with so much atmosphere. The whole thing is brilliant. I became particularly obsessed with this cut from the record, and then I started exploring the “Bo Diddley” beat in general, reading whatever I could about it and listening to examples. This kind of random deep-dive is the best thing about the internet era for a music fan.

Mulatu Asatke: “Tezeta (Nostalgia” At nights when I hang out with my Mom at her condo in Michigan I play music over a Bluetooth speaker I bought a year ago. My Mom’s default has for a while been to put the television on, but at some point I asked her about playing music instead so we could talk or just hang out, and she grew to like it. Sometimes we’ll chat about stuff, and sometimes she will play Candy Crush on her iPad while I do things on my phone, which sounds distant but is actually very comforting to me. One of the things I’m doing on my phone during these evenings is finding songs to play. It’s quite fun (and interesting) for me to say to myself “What is a playlist that would make my Mom happy?” and then try and figure out what that might be on the fly. She was never really a music person so I don’t have a lot to go on, mostly her age, a story or two about a song she liked, and a vague knowledge of what she might have heard on the radio in my lifetime.

In September, my Dad died, and I stayed with my Mom in her condo for a number of days that month. I felt a strange mix of feelings. On the one hand, he was father, I missed him, I thought about never being able to talk to him again, to not be able to share the things in my life. I thought about the fact that I wouldn’t be able to learn more about his life, my knowledge of which is pretty sketchy. There were all the usual things a person would be sad about. But then there was the fact that he had a severe and debilitating case of Parkinson’s disease for the last eight years, and at times he suffered so terribly. I remembered how on a few occasions he called me while he was delusional, he would tell me that he was sure he was going to die. One time, he told me that he saw someone in the driveway who was going to kill him. Another time, he said that it was hard to explain but that he had been split into two people, and he couldn’t take it, he was terrified. I told him that it would be better tomorrow and he yelled, “I’m going to be dead by tomorrow!” I would get calls like this while I was walking to work in Brooklyn 700 miles away, and I would feel so helpless. And so when he passed, I thought about him during situations like that, and also felt like maybe not he had some peace.

A night or two after my Dad died I was sitting with my Mom, talking, and playing music. She dug out some old photos and we were looking at them, pictures from her in high school that I had never seen. I wanted to see everything, learn every detail. And over that Bluetooth speaker I was playing some random playlist I had found called something like “Jazz for late night.” I wanted background music. And while we were hanging out and talking, this song came on, “Tezeta” by the Ethiopian jazz bandleader Mulatu Astatke. And man, it’s hard to describe, but the mood of this song so perfectly captured the exact feeling I had. The phrase that comes to mind is “bombed out,” that’s the way it seemed, like I’d been beaten up and thrown in a ditch and my ears were ringing and now I was trying to reorient myself after all that had happened. There was a feeling of weariness and sadness but also a feeling that life continues, that we have to gather our memories and keep on. And this impossibly beautiful song captured every bit of that, the one-chord riff moving ahead, in spite of it all, while the sax line captures all the sadness dripping off everything at the same time. I listened to it constantly in the weeks afterward.

Galaxie 500: “Fourth of July” (live) One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite band in my favorite version. This song is indicative of how (as with all songs on this list) when I’m in the mood I can listen to one track over and over. On a couple of occasions in 2018, I listened to this maybe 8 or 9 times in a row, immediately hitting “back” when it had finished. And the thing I was typically listening to was Naomi Yang’s bassline, which to me holds the lion’s share of the song’s feeling. Her bass playing in Galaxie 500 is so incredibly emotional to me, and it was never more so than here.

Pusha T: “Infrared” The one truly “new” song on here.” I didn’t have an advance of this record so I listened on Spotify when it came out and I loved it. And this song in particular seemed so perfect, the carefully constructed rap, executed as if it’s coming off the top of his head, the sample—I listened to this many times in a row on a few occasions, and it also sent me to revisit Clipse, which brought me a lot of joy.

Joni Mitchell: “Carey” Another song about freedom, but here it’s real. Blue is a perfect record but I probably revisit this one more than any other single song because I’m so in love with the production—that bass, that hand percussion...sonically, an album recorded almost 50 years ago simply cannot be improved upon. I remember hearing this one on AM radio when I was very young. It was a single, b/w “This Flight Tonight,” one hell of a 7-inch. I’ve always thought the picture it painted was so incredibly romantic—”Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam, maybe I’ll go to Rome / And rent me a grand piano and put flowers 'round my room.” Hey, why not! And if Carey is indeed keeping her in this tourist town, we know it’s only for another hour, another day, another week, whenever she’s ready, she can’t be tied down. But then, that’s the future: this night, now, is a starry dome, and we’re alive, inside it.

Arthur Russell: “That’s Us/Wild Combination” Sometimes w/ my favorite Arthur Russell songs you can hear the strain as he creates a new genre trying to get a particular unnamable feeling across. But not this one. Sitting in a room with his friend Jennifer Warnes he made a song that feels as natural as a breath.

Carole King: “Pleasant Valley Sunday” I’m in awe of Carole King’s ability to write songs that sound perfect on the radio. Even if her prime hitmaking years only lasted a bit over a decade, the number of her songs with her name on them that left a huge mark on culture is staggering. Her demo for the Monkees hit “Pleasant Valley Sunday” shows how perfect everything was before the artist who would bring the song to the public got anywhere near it. I found this one on Youtube 8 or 9 years ago and it’s been in regular rotation since.

Hank Williams: “The Angel of Death” In February and March I was doing research my Pitchfork Sunday Review on Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska. It’s one of my favorite records, and I’ve wanted to write something long on it for years, so spending time w/ it as the winter wound down was an intense pleasure. It’s common knowledge that Springsteen was listening to a lot of Hank Williams when he was writing the album, and when I came across this song, I became obsessed with it. One, the melody sounds right off Nebraska, and “My Father’s House” (another song I listened to a lot this year) especially seems directly modeled on it. But this song has so much going for it on its own. It’s about death and the moment of judgement, but Hank’s melody and phrasing don’t sound frightened. It’s hopeful, a prayer instead of an admonishment.

Guided by Voices: “Motor Away” I’ve loved this song for years but I listened to it intently around the same time I was playing the Hank Williams, when I was thinking about leaving Pitchfork. I’ve never been a big fan of Robert Pollard’s lyrics (though I love many of his tunes), but he second line here is the one I couldn’t put out of my mind: “When you free yourself from the chance of a lifetime.” That’s where I felt I was. Editing this music magazine that I cared so much about was the culmination of a dream that took a long time, a ton of work, and a fair amount of luck to realize. When the chance of a lifetime comes along, you’re supposed to hold on to it as tightly as possible for as long as possible, until someone finally pries it away, which will happen eventually. I knew that. And yet, deep down, I knew that after 11 years, I wanted to try something else. Run away, motor away, drive away. Sometimes a song can give you the tiniest push.

#writing #myfather

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fics-for-my-heart · 6 years

Text

Soul Burn (p3)

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, your skin burns in that spot till you touch them again.

Work Count: 1817

Warning: swearing

A/N: Here’s Part Three, Sorry it’s an hour late 😬. I’m not sure now many parts this will be, I’m thinking maybe two more? We’ll see. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

It had been almost two weeks since Toms confessions on Ellen and the internet was still buzzing. With the promise from Ellen to help him find his soulmate, people from all over were flocking to social media to say that they were the one.

“Have you heard anything about how they are doing the search?” You asked Julie one afternoon while baking.

“There’s been a few rumors going around. But I’m almost positive they aren’t using social media because it’s a mess. My guess is they are using a burn match site, or some other way.” She shrugged, running her finger through the side of the bowl to eat the extra batter.

Just as you were about to respond, both of your phones dinged. Julie checked hers as you stuck the brownies in the oven. “Well I guess what answers that question.”

“Hm?” You turned, picking your phone up. It was an email from the convention company. It was an invitation for everyone who attended Toms panel to return for another panel tomorrow, a way to make up for the catastrophe of the previous one. “So, some Cinderella shoe fitting type shit, alright.”

“We are obviously going.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well duh.”

——

“Are you sure that will work?” Tom was a little skeptical on the plan Ellen had just filled him in on. They would go back to the convention center, invite everyone who had been there that day for the panel back, and while they gave another panel, Tom would look for the girl who gave him the soul burn. “How do we know she’ll be there?”

“Well, we don’t. But, it’s worth a try.” There was some noise from the other end of the phone. “Tom, I have to go, but I’ll be in Y/HT with you tomorrow okay. Have a good flight.”

Tom hung up and ran his hands up and down his face. It was worth a try. He wanted to solve this mystery more than anything. He rolled himself out of bed and made his was to Harrison’s room.

“Mate, wake up.” He shook the sleeping boys foot. “Ellen’s thought of a plan but we have to leave soon, like in an hour to make a flight.”

Harrison grunted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before sitting up. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll fill you in on the way to the airport. Let’s go.” He tapped Haz’s foot and headed out to pack.

——

“Are you excited?” Julie asked as you waited in line at the doors, her voice was low so no one else would hear.

You shrugged, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. “I mean, yeah? But I doubt he will be able to recognize me? It’s been months. Also, I doubt they are going to walk around and examine everyone’s wrist.”

“Who knows, but it’s worth a shot.” She responded as the line began to move.

“Right wrist please.” The security member requested when you reached the door. Julie stuck her arm out as he placed a bright green band on her wrist. You followed suit pulling your sleeve up, he eyed you as he placed the band on your wrist. “The numbers on your bands are your seat numbers.” He nodded to the room as you thanked him and walked away.

It was another hour before everyone was in and seated. You were acutely aware of a few people around the stage looking at you. At first, you thought you were just being paranoid, but then Julie mentioned it.

“Do you think they know?” Her voice was almost inaudible as she glanced around the room. “They’ve been watching you, or at least this area, since we sat down.”

You moved a little closer to her, grabbing her hand. “I don’t know but it’s kinda giving me the creeps.”

Before she could respond, Bill made his way on stage again. “Hello everyone! This seems all too familiar. I do ask though that no one start a stampede.” There was an awkward laugh from the room. “Well, we once again are honored to welcome Tom Holland back.” There was a cheer as he stepped on the stage. Your breath caught as your mark started to tingle.

Tom felt it to, a confused look flashed across his face as he pretended he didn’t feel it. “Thank you for having me back, I’m so glad to be here.” He scanned the first few rows before taking a seat.

“So, what’s new since we last spoke? I know Avengers 4 is hitting theaters in a few months.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s really exciting. Still don’t know much! But I’ve heard great things from RDJ about it.” Tom was clearly a little distracted, slowly scanning the face of everyone.

“What about Spider-Man, got any tea you can spill on that one?” Bill poked, trying to get him to crack.

“Actually, yes. I can say something about what the movie is about.” His voice was serious, but he still scanned the room.

“Well, do tell!”

“It’s about.” Tom took a deep breath. “Spider-Man.” His eyes grew wide as the room filled with laughter. They grew even wider as he made eye contact with you. “The new Spider-Man movie, I can confirm, is about Spider-Man.”

Julie laughed, then noticed that Toms eyes hadn’t moved in a few moments. Your hand squeezed hers and it took everything in her not to lose her mind.

“So, Tom.” Bill knew what to do, it had been planned this was, and Toms answer determined how everything went from here. “If you’d like, we can open the floor up for questions.”

Toms eyes never left yours, there was a weird feeling flowing through you that you couldn’t quite explain. “Sure Bill, I’m sure there are some burning questions out there.” He winked.

“Oh my god.” You whispered, dropping your head in your hand. Toms laugh filled the room, it was obvious now to you and Julie he was watching you.

Julie started to push herself into you. “Holy shit.” You looked at her, putting your finger over your lips. The last thing you wanted to do was cause a scene.

Tom spoke with a lady from the stage while another person set up the a microphone for people to ask their questions. A few questions in, someone tapped your shoulder, you looked up to see the same lady Tom was speaking with.

“Ma’am, there has been a problem with your seating.” Her face had a soft smile. You spin your head around the Julie who looks just as confused. The lady leans down. “May I see your seat band.” You nod, slowly lifting your sleeve. Her fingers graze across the mark. “Just as I thought. Would you come with me please. You may come as well.” She nods at Julie who jumps up.

The lady starts a loud conversation about a car with its headlights on as you walk out, which just confuses you even more. Once you are out of the room, she leads you to an elevator. “Sorry about all the confusion, we don’t want anyone in there knowing that the real reason we are here is to find you.”

Julie’s hand wrapped around yours. “I knew it.” She had a massive grin on her face. The lady hit a floor button and the elevator moved. You were there, but not there? Like you could feel your body moving and hear them talking but the nerves had completely taken over. This was actually happening. You were minutes away from meeting the person forces unknown believed was the one you could spend the rest of your life with.

“The two of you are more than welcome to make yourselves comfortable. We aren’t sure how long the questions will go on for but Tom will be up as soon as the finish. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” She nodded her head at us before leaving.

“I think, I need a drink.” You sigh, sitting on the couch. Before Julie could answer, the door opened and Ellen walked in.

“Oh my god, Ellen.” Julie’s eyes were huge. “Holy moly. This day just keeps getting better.”

“Ladies, hello.” Ellen smiled as she made her way to the couch. A hand extended.

Julie reached out first shaking her hand firm. “Hello, I’m Julie. This is Y/N. She’s a little shook right now so.” Julie trailed off as she pointed at you.

“Um. Sorry. Wow. This is a lot to take in.” You shook Ellen’s hand.

“I totally understand. Just know that we won’t make any public announcement unless you want us too. We don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Ellen sat in the chair across from you.

You processed what she said, then nodded. “Thank you.”

Having Ellen there helped calm your nerves, she was so easy to talk to and eventually you forgot why you were there. It was about an hour and a half till you heard the card reader on the door beep, and a very nervous looking Tom entered the room with Harrison close behind.

“Hello.” His voice was soft and his finger twisted together. “I’m Tom. But, you probably already know that. Oh balls, I’m sorry I’m a bit nervous.” Tom ran a hand through his hair and looked at his feet, the tips of his ears were pink.

Julie pushed you off the couch whispering under her breath. “Go. Go.”

You stumbled, feeling your own face turn red as you faced the nervous boy in front of you. “Um, I’m Y/N.” Tom looked up, a small smile on his lips. He looked younger up close. With a handful of freckles spread over his face. His eyes were curious as he scanned your face. Taking in your own dusting of freckles and the way your Y/E/C eyes traced his face.

“So, you wanna make it official?” He asked, holding his arm up to show his mark.

Slowly, you pulled your sleeve up, revealing your own mark, that was currently burning more than it had in months. Tom reached a somewhat shaky hand out, and with timid fingers wrapped his hand around your wrist. You followed his movements with your eyes, then, did the same with your hands.

The tingling intensified. Your jaw dropped as you felt it move up your arm, taking over your entire body. Toms grip tightened slightly as the same feeling washed over him, both of you holding your breath.

You both sighed as the feeling practically evaporated from your systems. Both staring at your hands, neither moving.

“So, that was intense.” Harrison spoke first, causing you and Tom to jump, having forgotten you weren’t alone.

When you finally removed your hands, the marks were, in fact, gone.

“Well,” Tom spoke, a toothy smile taking over his face, “looks like you really are my soulmate.

*~~~~*

@strang-ersclub @greenarrowhead @klausbaudelaireee @thebookwormfairy

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #peter parker #tom #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

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