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creativenostalgiastuff · 4 years

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Butterflies

Summary: Virgil made Roman promise that he wouldn’t fall for him. Virgil never made the same promise. And as they get ready for the High School Theater Awards, Virgil is left not quite sure what he thinks. Pairings: Prinxiety Warnings: homophobia mention, theater mentions, falling mention, stress, worry, awards, kissing, flowers Word Count: 5853 Author’s Note: I was watching Phineas and Ferb and Isabella says a line that was my springboard for this story. It takes place after Locked and before Last Words. I guess it's kind of forming its own Prinxiety Human AU because I keep adding more to this set up. Anyway, again this can be read as part of that or separately. Up to you. Just lots of feelings that were fun to explore.

Virgil lays on the stage, a foot dangling over the side as he places his head down on his knee, waiting, amongst the confetti scattered across the floor. The lights are up in full, the castle backdrop that had been used in at least twenty different productions before this one swaying slightly in the breeze from the open backstage door.

He closes his eyes, listening to the commotion in the vestibule outside of the theater. All of the families, friends, teachers, and other students gushing over the cast of the show, congratulating them for their performances and hard work. It will still be a bit before the cast comes in to turn in their mics, not that Virgil minds. He knows his family isn’t out there (he didn’t tell them when the show was… or even that he was in another show) and he doesn’t like crowds anyway. He is happy to just sit there and calm down from the show hype.

Virgil takes a deep breath, shakily letting it out as he looks around the theater. Admittedly, Virgil can’t quite figure out why his chest feels so tight. Maybe it has something to do with the release of all the pent up stress from his role as Prop Master. Running backstage had been stressful enough when he wasn’t in a leadership role, but lord help him when it came to being put in charge of the props.

Or, maybe, it had something to do with the impending high school theater awards nominations. The student critics had been attending the show all weekend. Their reviews would come out by Wednesday, nominations for awards announced Friday, and then two weeks until the Gala where the winners would be announced.

“Oh, Virgil!” a sing-song voice rings as the door to the theater opens. “You have visitors!”

Virgil smiles as his eyes find his friends. Patton skips down the center aisle towards him, a flower tucked behind his ear, probably from a cast member’s bouquet.

“It really was a great show,” says Patton, his grin large and genuine. “And you did a great job backstage! Everyone is talking about it. Best Junior Senior show in the history of the program! I can’t wait to take a turn at it next year with you guys!”

“It is regrettable that we were not able to participate in this show,” Logan nods. “You designed a fantastic, functional carriage and your props organization system was highly regarded by both the cast and crew.”

Virgil laughs dismissively as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie’s pocket, “Right. System. Or, you know, excessively fussing over items to the point of annoying the cast into submission.”

“You did well, Virge,” Patton reassures. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a nomination.”

“Yeah, nominations,” Virgil blinks as he thinks about the upcoming city awards for the different high school theater programs. Cinderella was the last show before nominations were announced. “I don’t know. It's a talented city.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Patton encourages. “Go to the cast party and just relax. What’s done is done.”

Before Virgil can respond, the doors open and a blob of bright, glittering blue fabric fills the doorway. An arm emerges from the blob followed by the torso of a girl shouting, “Ay, yo, Prince! Push me through!”

“Dude, I’m trying. Your hoop is stuck!”

Virgil sprints up to the stuck Cinderella, “Woah, wait, stop! That hoop is a rental! Alana, back up, fold the hoop and then come through.”

Alana does as directed and gets through the doorway easily this time, “Yeah, I think the costume department would cry if I tore this dress. How many hours did it take?”

“It was a semester project for Talyn, so more than you want to know,” Roman answers as he follows his princess through the door, straightening the golden crown on his head. Virgil can’t help but notice the confidence that was almost glowing around this Prince: his posture straight and tall, a smile that could stop traffic, a sparkle in his eye that made them seem bright and full. Snapchat wished it could make a filter to make people look like Roman did after a great performance, thought Virgil as he took in the sight of his friend.

“Virgil?”

Virgil shook his head, snapping back to reality, “Sorry, yeah?”

Alana turned around and pointed at the battery pack hidden on the hip pocket at the back of the dress (did Virgil say how amazing the dress design was for student work?), “Take my mic? I need to get out of this monstrosity.”

“Right,” Virgil says as he helps Alana get out of her mic, trying to ignore Roman; a task which was getting harder for Virgil as their friendship grew. Roman was such a big personality he seemed to demand attention. That meant that the more time Virgil spent with him, the more attention Roman took.

“Roman, Alana!” Patton calls as he bounces up and wraps the two leads in a big bear hug, “I am so proud of you two! That was such a good show!”

Virgil finally untangles Alana, “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” she responds as she turns to face the group, “And thanks, Patton. It was a good last run. Only thing that would make it better is if we can at least get a nomination my senior year. It’d be nice to leave a legacy.”

“What is a legacy?” Roman immediately starts asking, striking dramatic poses. “Its leaving seeds in a garden you never get to see.”

“Come here, Mr. Legacy,” Virgil quips back with a roll of his eyes. “Before you pull a wire with your dramatics.”

“And I’m going to get out of this,” Alana says as she grabs as much of her dress as she can.

“Need help with doors?” Patton asks, already headed towards the door.

“That’d be great,” answers the princess. “Logan, can you help grab more of this?”

“Yes ma’am,” responds Logan as Alana hands him an armful of dress. “How did you do this for the production?”

“Mice,” Alana answers flatly as she picks up more dress. She takes a moment to pointedly make eye contact with Virgil, as if trying to send a secret message. Whatever the message is, Virgil doesn’t catch it, but it does make his ears red as the three of them maneuver her out of the theater and down to the green room to change.

Virgil returns his attention to getting the mic off of Roman. The costume strategically hides his mic pack in his red sash, the wire running along it up to his shoulder before it blends into his hair. Easy enough to free. Without a word, Virgil gets to work fishing it out of the sash as his friend works to free himself from the mic in his hair.

They are friends, right? After the events in the locked choir room, Virgil doesn’t really know what is happening as far as their relationship, if you want to call it that, is concerned.There was a time where Virgil couldn’t stand the sight of Roman Prince. But things change. Roman has been true to his word, not telling anyone about Virgil being gay. They are fine doing things without Logan and Patton with them, which hadn’t always been true.

Throughout the run of the show, Roman had gone out of his way to ensure that Virgil was included when the cast and crew did things; extending invites and offering rides. And Virgil realized he didn’t mind the large social gatherings with Roman. Something about Roman was almost calming, reassuring in those situations. Virgil almost found himself waiting for the next party, just so that he could hang out with Roman when he was in his element as Mr. Popular. Wanting to spend time with friends was normal, right?

“So, Virge,” Roman asks quietly, pulling Virgil from his thoughts, “you are coming to the cast party with me, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” Virgil begins, stuttering. With me?

“I mean, I’m taking Logan and Patton in my car, so it just makes sense you’d come too,” Roman explains as he hands the mic over his shoulder to Virgil, his words fast. “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume you’re going. It’s totally up to you. Just, you know, you always have a seat in my car if you want it. ”

It takes Virgil a moment to steady his voice, aiming for his signature indifference, as he takes the mic and checks the battery is turned off, “Sure.”

“Perfect!” Roman turns, a smile beaming before he starts walking towards the door. “Give me five to change and then we’ll head out!”

Virgil waits until the door to the theater clicks before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He takes a steadying breath as he heads towards the sound booth, his face burning up and heart fluttering.

~:-:~

Virgil sits in his last period class, his leg bouncing as he watches the second hand on the clock make its rounds, counting down the minutes. Why does the last period on the last day of the week always feel like the longest? He knows he isn't the only one anxious for once.

The whole Cinderella cast had been a mess since Wednesday when they got their reviews from the student critics. They had been overwhelmingly positive, showering them with praise for everything from their costume design to their ensemble to their leads. Virgil found it hard to stay realistic, getting swept up in the hope of his fellow cast and crew. The energy had been undeniably infectious and Roman was definitely the patient zero of the group. As soon as that bell rang, the whole theater department would take off running to check the board.

“They do realize the stampede of students will be worse than when they post the cast lists, right?” Logan inquires to Virgil, turning in his seat to face him.

Virgil shrugs, chewing absently on his thumb nail, “Will that stop us from doing it?”

“No, I would think not,” Logan smirks as he turns back and folds his hands on his desk. Virgil rolls his eyes at Logan’s quiet patience.

“What are the odds we get nominated again?” asks Virgil, leaning forward so that he could talk softly to Logan’s ear.

“As I have told you, it depends on the category,” answers Logan while still facing front, his hands folded on the desk. “North Valley had a well recieved My Fair Lady, Mount Battenhorn’s stage for Les Mis was all anyone wanted to talk about in the forums for months.”

“Right, right,” sighs the emo as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit back to the clock and the remaining few minutes before they would be dismissed. His class was about as far from the theater as he could get. Virgil would have to push upstream of the students if he wanted to check the board. Fast, too, if he wants to catch his bus.

Virgil can’t help the burning question from bubbling out, “But like, what are the chances that Roman…”

“Roman will get nominated?,” Logan finishes the question in unison with Virgil. He sighs as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “As I have told you the last three times you have asked in this class alone, I am optimistic of Roman’s chances. As I am sure you would agree based on your personal experience, he makes a very convincing Prince Charming. ”

Virgil stops, not quite sure what Logan is trying to insinuate. Was that referring to Virgil’s experience of Roman as an actor, a friend, or something else?

“Excuse me,” a voice comes over the PA system, cutting off Virgil from retorting. “Teachers, please command a presence in your classroom.”

There is a pause before the voice continues, “As many of you are aware, our theater department just wrapped up the Junior Senior show last weekend, Cinderella. Ms. Martin, the director, is here with some big announcements.”

“Well this is unprecedented,” comments Logan, loud enough for Virgil to hear. Virgil can feel his pulse skyrocket, adrenaline flooding the system. This can only mean something big. They wouldn’t announce publicly no nominations, right?

“Thank you, Principal Arthur,” the director’s high soprano voice said. “I am here to happily announce that this year’s show set a new school record for nominations, with a total of four nominations!”

“What?!”

“We have nominations in best costumes, best supporting actor in a musical lead actress in a musical, and best musical!” Ms. Martin rattled off quickly, her voice getting squeakier with each word. “The awards will be given out at the Gala in two weeks. Congrats to everyone on a job well done. Oh, and I need to meet with you all in the theater immediately. Thanks and congrats!”

Virgil doesn't remember standing up. All he knows is that he is looking down at Logan, still sitting in front of him with a smirk, “I guess the odds of nominations were pretty good.”

“We were nominated.” Virgil states, not quite sure he can believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

The teacher motions towards the door, “I believe your presence was requested in the theater, Virgil?”

“Right,” Virgil says as he picks up his backpack and hurries out the door. When he gets to the doorway, he sees fellow cast and crew members in the hallway, running and jumping, whooping with excitement. Virgil can’t tell if he wants to join in for a moment as he takes in what they said. The cast is nominated. Roman is nominated.

Roman. God, he would be so excited.

A cast member runs past him, “Come on, Virge! They’re waiting!”

Virgil takes off after the rest of the cast, joining in the growing group of theater kids as they get closer to the theater.

Once in the theater, he follows his fellow techies to the back of the theater as the cast fills the stage, just as they always did for full rehearsals. The whole room is loud with whoops of excitement and genuine joy. Someone hits the lights for the house, leaving the lights for the stage on from the drama class that had just been in there before the cast had taken over.

“Can I get a mic?” the director yells from the stage, hardly audible over the excitement. She’s a short woman, blending in easily to the small ocean of high school students. One of the sound kids finds a mic and runs it up to her. “Thanks, is this thing on?” the director asks.

“Someone get the spotlight!” shouts one of the actors.

“I’ll get it,” Virgil yells back. He honestly had missed being in the lighting booth for this show, having gotten his start in the technical side as a spotter. Quickly, Virgil scrambles up the ladder to the lighting booth tower. It takes him a second to turn the nob on the light to turn it on, his hands shaking from the excitement. Finally he gets it, turning on the spotlight and hitting the director.

“Ah, thank you,” the director calls. “Okay, quiet down. I know we’re excited, but I have a few things we need to cover before dismissal.”

The chattering continues until a “Quiet on stage!” is barked by a familiar voice with a demanding presence. Virgil’s eyes follow to the sound of the voice over the others and smiles at Roman. The cast quiets down at the request of their Prince.

“Thank you,” Ms. Martin says. “First of all, congratulations to everyone for everything you have done. We wouldn’t have gotten the Best Musical nomination without each and every one of you.

“As you are aware, the Gala is in two weeks. We have been asked to perform a song from the musical at the Gala. I would like to suggest we honor our fabulous leads by going with ‘Do I Love You’. Any objections?”

There’s silence before someone yells, “Give it up for our Prince and Princess, both nominated in their category!”

Virgil finds Alana in the crowd as people turn towards her and hits her with the spotlight quickly while flipping the other one on and spotting Roman too. Both of them laugh as they try to block the light to see who is spotting them.

“Let’s not forget our behind the scene’s nominations too,” Alana calls, finally giving up trying to see Virgil on the spot. “Talyn for that beautiful blue mammoth of a dress, as well as the rest of the costume department!”

Virgil finds Talyn in the group to spot them too and swinging the light from Alana to Talyn.

“And to our beautiful director for all of her hard work,” Roman shouts as the kids break into applause and cheers. Virgil swings Roman’s spot back to Ms. Martin who has tears in her eyes. “We wouldn’t have set the school record without her!”

A student starts blasting music through the sound system to the cheers of everyone in the theater. Virgil takes a deep breath as he watches the stage, all of the students are hugging one another and dancing in celebration. The room truly feels electric. Virgil can[t help but watch Roman as he make his way through the entire stage, congratulating everyone, before jumping off the stage and making his way to the tech crew, continuing the celebration with them. A few of the other cast members follow him, with a few techies climbing on the stage until it was just one sea of celebration. Virgil is happy to watch from his place on the tower, feeling part of the joy while being comfortably separated. He never wants this moment to end.

The bell rings, causing all of the students to scramble to find their discarded bags. Virgil watches, mesmerized by the movement below him.

“Okay, Alana and Roman, I need to see you first thing Monday so we can set a schedule to rehearse before the Gala,” Ms. Martin shouts into the mic and the students start to rush for the door. “Great job, everyone! I’ll let you know more details as I get them. Thanks and have a great weekend!”

Virgil sighs, resigning himself to miss the bus after seeing the rush for the door. He needs a minute to calm his shaking hands and falling from scaffolding was not something he plans to do. He sits on the ledge, swinging his legs and waving to the other techies as they head out of the theater.

Ms. Martin points at him from her spot on the stage, “Virgil, aren’t you going to miss the bus?”

“Yes, ma’am, but its okay,” he waves to her. “I just need a minute to wrap my head around it all, if that’s okay.”

“Well don’t take too long,” she calls back, her eyes drifting to the bottom of the tower where the sound equipment was kept. “I’ll be in my office doing paperwork. Holler if you need me?”

Virgil nods and watches her exit the stage. He takes a deep breath, continuing to swing his legs back and forth. The adrenaline in his system was finally starting to calm back to what Virgil would consider an acceptable level now that the others had left. Virgil pulls out his phone and checks the time. He curses under his breath when he does the math in his head; if he leaves now he might walk in before his parents. Maybe.

It's not that his parents are bad. They just don’t get Virgil, you know? They are always fighting over really dumb things, like his hoodie or his hair or why he wasn’t dating. After his coming out to Roman, Virgil just didn’t want to deal with questions his parents might ask. He could never tell them that he was gay.

Virgil rubs his eyes, telling himself to stop sitting here thinking and go home. He gets up on the platform and quickly hits a few buttons to turn back on the lights to the house and the stage lights out. He scrambles down the ladder when an unexpected voice says, “Hey, Virge.”

Startled, Virgil’s feet slip and he falls, “Shit!” He feels his body tense as he readies himself for the inevitable contact with the ground.

Instead, he is surprised again by a pair of arms catching him from the fall.

“I guess the promise was that I wouldn’t fall for you, not the other way around,” Roman’s amused voice came. Virgil feels his heart skip a beat having nothing to do with the fall he just experienced.

He opens his eyes and lets out a laugh of relief, “Roman, warn a guy next time, will ya?”

Roman winces at Virgil’s point, “Sorry. Still excited I guess.”

“Yeah, the cast did great,” Virgil responds as he places his feet on the floor. “Best Musical and all. I’m sure it wouldn’t have happened without you and Alana getting your own nominations.”

“That’s kind, but it was a group effort,” adds Roman as he helps Virgil get steady on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil teases, “But is the great Roman being humble? I never thought I would see the day.”

“You wound me, sir,” Roman retorts, bumping Virgil with his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, humility is the least of my many redeeming qualities.”

“Oh, right, my apologies,” Virgil laughs as he rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot who I was talking to.”

Roman picks up Virgil’s backpack from where he had unceremoniously thrown it on the ground, dusting it off, “I wanted to ask, some of us were going to go get ice cream to celebrate. Logan and Patton are coming.”

“Oh,” Virgil responds. As soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself in the face. Really? All of that clever banter and now all you have is oh?

Roman extends his hand to Virgil, still holding the backpack in the other hand, “You up for it, or do you need to get home?”

Virgil swallows hard, trying to ignore the somersaults his stomach was doing, as he takes the offered hand. The simple touch is like flipping the switch in his head that made him worry and panic. For Roman, he has all the time in the world.

“Yeah, ice cream sounds nice.”

“Sweet,” Roman slings the backpack on his own shoulder, keeping a hold of Virgil’s hand.

~:-:~

Virgil stands backstage at the High School Theater Awards Gala, fidgeting with the sleeves on his borrowed-from-the-costume-department metallic purple jacket. Talyn had insisted he wear it due to how it matched his purple Converse he had insisted on wearing. He didn’t mind the look it gave him with his black dress pants and button down shirt, only it was a bit impractical given his task of helping Alana manage the blue sparkling dress that had earned the nomination. He wasn’t sure why it was him helping and not one of the other techies who had the job during the show, but he didn’t ask questions.

On stage they are announcing another award, a technical award. The school had won for best costume already, thanks to Talyn’s beautiful and practical designs. They had taken everything into account, such as Alana’s nervous fidgeting with the beading on the dress, a habit she often showed backstage as she prepared for this section of the show. The costume department had reinforced the beading to allow her to fuss without breaking it.

Virgil checks on the single flower he had placed in his pocket earlier, ensuring it is still okay. His breath catches at the sight of the red petals against the black lining of the jacket. He swallows hard and closes the jacket, nodding to himself. Now is not the time to think of that. Roman would win his award. He returns his attention to Alana, walking up to her spot in the wings.

Virgil bites at his thumb as he looks across the stage from his current place. In the other wing Roman sits on a box, staring at the floor, blankly. His body reads as tense, folded up on itself more than Virgil is used to from the man.

Roman had been acting weird the few days leading up to the Gala. He was more argumentative, more withdrawn, and refused to listen to reason. He insisted on using all of his free time and energy to work and rework the song for the Gala, ignoring their pleas for him to take care of himself. They had all tried to distract him by watching Disney movies or playing board games. Patton had baked cookies and brought him food whenever he refused to stop working. Logan had made a schedule to help Roman optimize his time to take care of himself.

Virgil, admittedly, didn’t really know what to do. He had spent most of his time just sitting with Roman as he worked through the song, not saying much except the occasional reassurance that Roman knew what he was doing. Virgil wanted to do more, but he just didn’t understand. The performance had nothing to do with who won the award. This performance was supposed to be for fun.

Yet Virgil is nervous too, isn’t he? Maybe because he was worried of what would happen if Roman lost the award. Or maybe for other reasons. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

He looks at Alana, acknowledging her own anxious energy as she messes with the reinforced beads, “You okay? You know you already won, right?”

Earlier they had announced her win. She had been crying in relief and excitement as they had been getting set up for the performance, but now she clearly seems on edge. All that was left out of their nominations were Roman for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical and Best musical.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Alana admits. She turns slightly to look at him without moving the dress, “Yeah. Can you do me a favor though, before I go on?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

She nods across the stage, “Go calm him down. He’s making me nervous looking that pale.”

Virgil snorts, “You say that like I haven’t been trying to all week. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Go talk to him?”

“You think I’m your best bet for talking?”

“Just try. You always have an effect on him. I think he needs you right now.”

Pushing the knot in his stomach down, Virgil agrees he has to try, “Alright. Just don’t move until you step on that stage, got it?”

Alana nods again, so Virgil slips around the backstage, avoiding all of the moving people and props, until he ends up behind Roman. Virgil stops and tries to think of something to make Roman laugh. He could just say hi, but that could scare the guy if he wasn’t careful.

He could say what he was thinking: that he would never get tired of Roman in the Prince costume. That Roman had nothing to worry about. That he would make them all understand why he was nominated in the first place. That everyone was so proud of him, that Virgil was so proud of him. That he was glad they got locked in that choir room. That he was glad they were friends. That he, maybe, wanted… No, it wasn’t time to worry about the gift in his pocket and the words he might end up saying.

Virgil takes a deep breath before choosing his words, “I was going to say something clever, but honestly I got nothing.”

Roman keeps staring absently at the floor, “Hey, Virge.”

A stagehand passes them, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder as he does so, “Two minutes, your highness.”

“Thank you two,” Roman mumbles as he stands up.

“I’m here, Ro. What do you need?” Virgil asks in a rush, wanting to help before it is too late.

Roman’s head snaps up to look at Virgil and the use of the nickname. Virgil swallows the lump in his throat as he realizes he had never actually said that name before, only sending it in group messages with Logan and Patton before. He isn’t sure if its okay or not with Roman.

Roman gives a small smile, “Honestly? You won’t hate me?”

“Not possible,” answers Virgil as he crouches down so that he can be eye level with Roman. “Whatever it is, I got it, promise.”

“Just… hold my hand?” asks the Prince in a small voice.

Virgil takes Roman’s hands in his own, his heart hammering hard inside him. He looks over the actor, not saying anything as Roman holds on and closes his eyes. Virgil can’t help but watch in awe as Roman takes deep breaths, seemingly breathing in confidence with each breath.

“One minute,” the stage hand comes back and informs them. “Mic is going live now.”

Roman stands, nodding, pulling Virgil with him, still holding his hand while he takes his position in the wing. Virgil can’t help but notice the almost electric feeling in his hand in Roman’s. He’d be lying if he didn’t say it was intoxicating, standing in the wings next to Roman Prince about to go on stage.

The music comes in under the MCs voices, helping to set the tone for the love song. Roman gives a final squeeze to Virgil’s hand before he lifts it up and kisses it softly, causing Virgil’s brain to go crazy with bells and alarms. Virgil reaches up and straightens the crown on Roman’s head before giving him the thumbs up and a smile.

Roman and Alana enter the stage and sing the song, “Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful” like they were born singing it. They hit all of the notes, the staging is natural, and they both look absolutely stunning. Virgil just watches from his place in the wings, like he had every time the song was done for their show. He just adores how Roman sings the song, so full of meaning and emotion. He would never admit it, but it was his favorite moment in the whole show. He ignores the lump in his throat that forms when he realises its the last time he will watch them perform this song together.

They end the song to the roar of applause at the kiss. Roman and Alana take their bows before Roman escorts his princess off stage towards Virgil. The two of them are beaming, knowing that they nailed it. Virgil can’t help but beam with pride for the two of them.

Not saying anything, Roman lets go of Alana’s hand and takes Virgil’s. He doesn’t stop as he pulls Virgil through the crowded backstage, taking his mic and handing it to the techie waiting for it without breaking stride.

“Roman?” Virgil finally asks when he finds his voice. “Where are we going?”

“Need some air,” Roman answers breathlessly as he pushes on a door marked with an exit sign. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Virgil says as he stops. He takes off his shoe and places it in the doorway, preventing the door from closing completely behind them. “We don’t want to get locked out.”

Roman nods and walks a few steps away from the building into the alleyway, letting go of Virgil’s hand, “You’re always looking out for us.”

Virgil leans against the brick wall as he watches Roman pace in the alley, just trying to catch his breath and calm himself down. Roman’s hands are on his hips as he walks the nervous energy out, causing Virgil to grin before saying, “You did it, Roman. You guys killed it.”

Roman shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face, “Yeah? You think so?”

“Obviously,” Virgil adds as he crosses his arms to try and stop them from shaking. “They’d be crazy to not have you win your category. Anyone with eyes can see you deserve it.”

“That… means a lot, coming from you,” admits Roman.

“Uh, I’ve been trying to tell you that all week!”

Roman laughs as he approaches Virgil, staying on the bottom stair, “Well, you know, I never do listen.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Hey, Prince!” Alana’s voice comes as she leans her head out the doorway, working to put her earrings back in her ears. “Get your butt back in here. They’re getting ready to announce your category.”

“Coming,” Roman responds as Alana disappears back inside. Virgil grabs Roman’s hand as he starts to pass, “Ro, wait, I almost forgot.” He pulls out the single rose from his inside coat pocket and extends it to Roman, his hand shaking. “For good luck, not that you need it.”

Roman takes another step towards him, “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

Before Virgil can say anything, Roman kisses Virgil softly, gently, yet electrifying. Virgil is caught off guard and tense for a moment before he relaxes into the embrace, closing his eyes and accepting the moment.

“Roman!” barks Alana.

Roman pulls back, causing Virgil to come back to reality, at the separation. “I’m sorry. I…” Roman mutters as he hurries past Virgil and heads inside before Virgil can say anything.

Virgil stands there, stunned for a moment as he tries to process what just happened. Roman Prince had just kissed him. And Virgil had wanted it to keep going. It's the most alive Virgil remembers feeling. He hears a commotion inside the theater and snaps back to reality. Roman.

Virgil grabs his shoe and heads into the theater, and hears the MC read all the nominees in Roman’s category. He starts running, sliding into the wing as they read off, “And the winner for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical goes to Roman Prince.”

Roman walks on stage, radiating at the announcement, waving to the crowd. Virgil knows Roman needs the validation from others when it comes to his creative work. And now he had it. Virgil joined the cheering as tears started filling his eyes. He can’t help the pride welling up inside of him for his friend.

Roman accepts the trophy and waves it in the air, signing thank you to the audience as the MCs start ushering him back towards the wings to keep the show going. Virgil isn’t thinking, he just starts moving towards Roman coming off stage. His Prince’s eyes find him, tears of joy shimmering, as Virgil offers him a hand and pulls him further off stage and out of the way.

“Virgil, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

Virgil leans in and kisses Roman to stop him from talking. Virgil is gentle, but pushes all of the things he hasn’t said to Roman into it. All of the longing, the pining, the quiet hoping. Roman melts into him, wrapping an arm around him to pull them closer together. Virgil pulls back and wipes away a tear that had fallen down Roman’s cheek with a soft smile. “Butterflies,” he says in response to Roman’s statement earlier. “You give me butterflies. Always.”

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #prinxiety fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roman prince #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #human au #theater kids #theater awards #kisses #homophonia mention #kiss #fall #awards #butterflies

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makarov-my-beloved · 3 years

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Watch Dogs: Legion x AmRev

@burgoyned Ch. 8 complete! Feedback and thoughts if you wish ^^

Chapter 8: It Takes Two To Resist

Readying his stance, Howe gave a small “come at me” sign with his right hand. Immediately he dodged a sharp kick to his head. Glad those weeks of training with Clinton paid off. The Horseman gave a jab, and Howe blocked it with his hands. A sharp pain arose, and he quickly pulled back. Fuck! He’s wearing a brass knuckle! Spikes shone on the gold brass knuckle that was now red with his blood. Shaking it off, Howe quickly dodged another attack. “COME ON KICK HIS HEAD OFF!!” “BREAK HIS LEGS!!” “PULL HIS BONES OUT!!” the crowd was yelling. Oh boy, this gonna be a long one. William attempted a punch, but the man swiftly dodged the attack. His black leather vest glistened under the spotlights. Blood was now dripping from the open holes in Howe’s right hand. He secretly gestured towards his friends while avoiding another kick to the head. Gage turned to the others. “Might as well make this quick.” He leaped over the railings. The announcer yelled, “THIS IS GETTING MORE INTERESTING BY THE MINUTE!!” Gage whistled towards the Horseman. “HEY, YOU!! OVER HERE!!”

Realizing he was outnumbered, the “White” Horseman beckoned for two of his teammates to help. One wearing a black bandana with a neon red skull appeared and the other also wore a black bandana with a neon green skull. The “Red” Horseman had a thin frame, while the “Green” Horseman was a burly figure. All wore the same outfit as their leader. The “Red” Horseman proceeded to attack Gage. Gage yelped and quickly ran. Howe, who was watching Gage avoid the attacks, ran over to the “Green” Horseman, and gave a sharp knee to the head. His attack, however, was blocked as his opponent grabbed his kneecaps and threw him across the arena. William was knocked into Gage, and the two men hit the ground. Stunned, Howe looked up to see the “White” Horseman kneeling over him. Pulling out his phone, he said “Listen. We don’t have to fight. I’m just here to see my brother Richard. I just want him to meet me at The Earl’s Fortune tonight. There is something urgent I need to speak to him about. Please.” I don’t know why I’m pleading with this man. He might not even be Richard.

Thankfully, the “White” Horseman got up and walked away from Howe. Looking over, the fighter saw Gage slowly getting up while rubbing his head. By this time, the crowd was growing restless over the event. He watched the Horseman speaking to his other crew members in low whispers. After some time, the three Horsemen left the arena with the “Red” Horseman giving a finger towards Howe and Gage. As they disappeared backstage, the crowd groaned in displeasure. The announcer spoke out. “WELL, THAT WAS CERTAINLY A TURN OF EVENTS! WE LIKE TO THANK YOU FOR TUNING IN AND HOPEFULLY SEE YOU HERE NEXT TIME!!” The spotlights shut off and the main arena lights turned on. As the crowd dispersed, André and the others jumped in to help their friends up. “Glad you almost got yourself killed today,” Burgoyne joked as he pulled Gage up. “Yeah well…it’s something…” the recruit moaned. Clinton noticed the blood dripping from Howe’s right hand. “Let’s head back to the Safehouse. We should get that checked out.

DedSec left the arena and by the time they arrived the clock on the Big Ben chimed 6:00 PM. Entering the pub, the crew walked past the lounge and bar where Clinton spotted a familiar face chatting with Hanger. He turned to the others. “You guys go on ahead-“ “CORNWALLIS! HOLY CRAP WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” André exclaimed. Cornwallis turned around and saw DedSec looking at him. “I’m just here to relax. Oh yeah, the nice job nearly getting your head kicked off today. You guys were also at the event, yes? Saw y’all standing in the front row,” he said, smirking. Clinton shook his head while Howe looked away feeling his face turning red. Gage and Burgoyne ushered their friend into the Safehouse while André and Clinton stood by the bar. Looking at this watch, Cornwallis chugged his vodka before getting up. “Well, it was nice seeing you here. Gotta run.” “Wait! Don’t you want to join DedSec?” André asked. Cornwallis gave him a weird look. “Why would I want to join a terrorist organization?” “André come on. He’s not going to budge,” Clinton muttered, tugging at his friend’s sleeves. André did not budge. “We’re not a terrorist organization! Just come to the Safehouse and we’ll show you!” “Maybe. Listen, I’ve got stuff to do, and I don’t want to get put on Albion’s hitlist or something, so unless you can prove to me that I can trust your organization I’ll have to decline.”

Cornwallis turned to leave the pub. André groaned in frustration before following Clinton. Reaching the main room, André propped down on his seat. Bagley spoke up. “I’ve managed to clear all the junk data from the laptop. It appears that this is more complicated than we thought. It’s a tangled web of connections all leading to Germain. We’ll need to take care of the others first.” “Great. Can we leave that aside now? I’ve just met a friend of mine upstairs and he won’t join my crew.” “A pity. Just as pitiful as the fight today. Could’ve seen some action occurring.” “Yeah, well, I don’t want my head to roll Bagley,” Howe snapped as he stormed out from the back room. Gage and Burgoyne followed quietly behind him. Raising his bandaged right hand, Howe continued. “I can wear this as a badge of pride, but let it be a reminder I will NOT be setting foot near that place again!” “You’re just bitter you didn’t win,” snickered Gage.

Howe collapsed onto the sofa and stared into the distance. Clinton, who was leaning against Bagley’s table, got up and followed Gage and Burgoyne upstairs to the pub. Only André and Howe were left in the Safehouse. Playing with a Rubik’s cube, André looked at his friend. “Come on now. It was once in a lifetime opportunity. You took it well.” “Yeah, well hopefully that person can pass on my message to Richard, and he can meet me at the pub.” “Oh? You extended an invite? How brave of you. Hopefully, he gets it.” “We shall see,” William sighed as he turned over and fell asleep.

Hours passed until Howe felt himself being jolted by André. “I think he’s outside the pub waiting for you,” the hacker whispered. Howe checked his phone. It was 9:00 PM. Stretching, the fighter got off the couch and shook his right hand. “What makes you think it’s him?” he asked. André held up William’s phone. A message was on the screen. “‘Outside. Where are you?’” it read. “Hmph. Ok. See you in a bit,” Howe said quietly as he left the Safehouse. Walking into the pub, he saw Hanger comforting a now drunk Burgoyne at the bar while Gage and Clinton talked and laughed. Patrons sat at the lounge while BBC News aired on TV. Walking out, Howe looked around before spotting a hooded figure pacing back and forth next to a grey sport motorcycle. Suspicious, Howe approached him. The figure turned around. The facial look and structure were unmistakable.

Wearing a spiked long leather vest zipped up, black jeans, and grey spiked combat boots, Richard took off his hood. “Richard…Oh my God, I’m so glad to- “ “Just cut your bullshit and tell me what you want,” his brother snapped. He’s still not over that argument. “Listen, I checked the records from the Metropolitan Police Department and her name isn’t listed.” “And?” “I also went to the hospital near the explosion site-“ “Wait, Royal London Hospital? You were there too?” Richard stopped and stared at his brother. So it was him! “It was you… You left that note on the car…” William’s head began to feel faint. Tapping his heel against the stone road, Lord Howe smirked. “So, you knew. I did clear out all the data at every hospital. No names were found. I guess you were right. Caroline isn’t dead.” “You finally believe me? Does that mean you’re speaking to me again?” “Perhaps. I did find a trace of something from the explosion site. I do need someone to help me clean the cache first.” “I know someone who can,” William said with a smile.

Leading his brother into the pub, Howe punched the code to the Safehouse. “I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much!” William gently sobbed. “Then why didn’t you let me knock you out?” Lord Howe asked snarkily. Always with that attitude. Leading him into the main room, Howe pointed to a holographic speaker on the table. “This is Bagley. He’s our main coordinator of DedSec. And this…” he motioned towards André “…is John André, our leader of DedSec.” André turned around. “Oh my…Lord Howe! A pleasant surprise!” the hacker got up from his chair to shake hands with the MMA brawler. “I heard you’re a fan of DeFaLT! I am too!” “Cool. Anyways, I have this,” Lord Howe pulled out his phone. “I need someone to decrypt data I hacked from the explosion site. Heard you could do it.” “Yes sir! Please allow me!” Lord Howe handed André his phone and the hacker began processing the information.

Bagley spoke up. “I find it genuinely surprising there was more data recovered from that site. Where exactly did you locate this?” “In the security building next to the stadium,” Lord Howe responded. “I see. Perhaps there might be a correlation between the building and that stadium.” André looked at his laptop. “I’m not picking up anything unusual so far, but we’ll have to keep an eye on it. To be honest, I doubt there is anything too scary on it. Could be someone’s search history leaked.” “Quite possibly. We’ll have to keep checking on it once it finishes processing. In the meantime, why don’t y’all head upstairs and relax?” “That is nice of you, Bagley. Alright, meet you two upstairs!” André quipped happily as he grabbed his soccer ball and ran out.

William looked over to his brother. “Well, it’s nice to see you again.” Lord Howe said nothing as he looked at the laptop before leaving. Why can’t he just get over it? The fighter followed him upstairs to the pub where André stood in front of the TV along with Clinton and Gage. Burgoyne has his head on the counter, completely passed out. The brothers stood next to Clinton as they watched Lord Germain hold a press conference. “Rest assured,” he said, “Britain will be more secured as ever as today I am announcing a new intelligence agency that will work alongside Zero Day.” He unveiled a covered board behind him and on it was a sigil with a lion under a checkered shield spelled ‘SIRS’. It was encased by a triangle entangled with a circle and the words ‘Signals. Intelligence. Response.’ All in black in red color scheme, the SIRS logo looked grandiose. Continuing with his speech, Lord Germain proclaimed, “Today will be the day Britain will blanket itself under the safety and security of SIRS. Every man, woman, and child will no longer feel threatened by the hands of terrorists…” he proceeded to incriminate DedSec until one person in the audience yelled, “YOU’RE THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR LETTING THEM GET AWAY WITH IT!” Everyone grunted in agreement.

Gritting his teeth, André shoved past everyone and stormed out of the pub. In the lounge, patrons shook their heads while others growled in anger over the new measures Lord Germain was placing. “Motherfucker,” Gage hissed under his breath before walking away with Clinton. William looked at his brother. “Feeling a bit peckish? I know a good Japanese restaurant here in Central London.” “I guess,” Lord Howe muttered. The fighter smiled. Might start chipping away that ice. The two left the pub only to find two Albion guards standing around the silver motorcycle. “Greetings gentlemen. Is there a problem?” Lord Howe asked cheerfully, masking his annoyance. “Yes. Your license is out of date. You’ll need to re-register with DVLA, or your vehicle might be impounded.” Suspicious, William pulled out his phone and scanned his brother’s vehicle. He just got a new license two days ago.

Richard cocked his head. “Perhaps you’re mistaken. That vehicle was registered two days ago.” “It says on our records it’s expired,” the guard snapped. Sensing the tension, William quietly slid his bag off his shoulder as his brother snorted. “If I were to guess, the two of you must be getting nothing out of that bloody arse on TV otherwise you wouldn’t be out here looking for trouble.” “You dare insult the Minister of Security and Safety?!” “Yeah, I just did what are YOU going to do about it?” Lord Howe sneered, getting into the guard’s face. “Why you-“ Before the Albion guard could act, the brawler grabbed him by the gun and swung him over his shoulder. “HEY!” his partner exclaimed as he raised his gun. William immediately smacked his face with his crowbar before using the sharp edge to stab the guard in the throat. People nearby stopped and watched. “Billy, get this guy up!” Lord Howe ordered, pointing to his victim on the ground.

Did he just call me ‘Billy’? Is he finally letting me in? Excited, William hoisted the guard up by pinning both his arms behind his back. Stretching his legs, Lord Howe smirked at his victim. “Sayonara, motherfucker!” he jeered and swung his right leg. Metal spikes from the boots connected with the guard’s side neck which the sharp needles tore into the neck’s muscles. The swift kick dislodged the guard’s head which rolled onto the stone pavement. Blood spattered everywhere. William quickly dropped the body onto the ground as people cheered on. “WOO DO IT AGAIN!” one person yelled. Smiling from an adrenaline rush, Howe looked at his brother. “I guess we’re back in business?” His brother smiled. “We’re back in business.” They stood in a moment of satisfaction as the crowd cheered them on. Recruitment Complete.

#watch dogs legion x amrev

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oinkawater · 4 years

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can i request a fic based on 'it's all coming back to me' by celine dion pleaase!! i'm so obsessed with the song!! hmm, maybe an akaashi or oikawa x fem!reader thank you so much!!

AH YES this song is my heartbreak jam!!! and i had a few scenarios in mind so i did BOTH HEHEHE and they’re equally long so i apologise

oikawa tooru

and i banished every single memory you and i had ever made

but when you touch me like this

and you hold me like that

i just have to admit that it’s all coming back to me

“Okay, meet back at this queue in 15 minutes? You get your stuff and I’ll get mine,” you instruct your boyfriend slowly, making sure that he heard you through the loud music booming in the department store.

“Okay! I’m not a child — see you in 15 minutes, baby,” he laughs. He puts his hand on the back of your head and reeled you in to press a kiss a kiss to the top of your head. “Be safe.”

You know this department store like the back of your hand. The times you spent in here roaming around with your boyfriend could beat the number of hours you’ve slept in the past 2 months.

Planning for an event important to so many people in your life has proved a lot harder than you thought. Now you’re in a haste trying to get decorations for the amatuer engagement party you’re throwing.

You found yourself at the aisle with wall decorations. You hum to yourself, pressing a fingertip to your lips as you scanned the filled shelves.

“(y/n)?”

“Oikawa?” The name rolled off your tongue even before you could properly process who was calling out to you. You listened to that voice every single day for 3 years — you couldn’t forget it even if you tried your hardest. “Hi?”

“Hi,” he says with a breath, shoving his hands down his back pockets. He raises his shoulders up as he looks at you, quite unsure of what to say. Instead, he just repeats himself by accident, “hi.”

You smile. “Hi. I haven’t seen you since...”

“High school graduation,” Oikawa sighs softly. “So, how have you been? You disappeared from everybody’s radar since then.”

“Yeah, I took my degree in London,” you stated. “I stayed with my dad. I actually just moved back here a few months ago.”

You’d piled away every memory you had with Oikawa. As much as you can, you pushed it into the back of your mind where it should belong. When the wound was still fresh, it

Now that he’s standing right in front of you, you could suddenly remember it like it was just yesterday. The laughter, the craziness, the things you’d gotten yourself into. They’re the stories you’d never ever forget but you’ll never tell anyone about it — it’s a memory for you to keep and hold on to.

Your boyfriend might not have had the best history with Oikawa, but he’s a part of your past whether he liked it or not.

“We should totally get dinner some time,” Oikawa grins. His eyes widen when you lifted your head in shock. The intention of his invite sinks in almost instantly and he flinches as he covers his mouth. “Like, with Iwa-chan and Makki! Mattsun, too! I bet they’d be glad to see you’re back.”

Your shocked state prolongs for a while, but eventually, you started laughing. You could see he was cautious with the words he was going to say to you. “I’d actually like that. I was thinking of reaching out these past few days but I didn’t exactly know how to start.”

Sure, you were trying to get rid of the awkwardness between you. But it wasn’t entirely a lie just to ease off the tension. You genuinely meant it.

“Well, I’ll call you!” Oikawa exclaims, instinctively pulling you in for a tight hug. “Or I’ll text you. Whichever’s convenient. I’ll see you around, (y/n).”

And just like that, he turns around to continue with his shopping.

You stand where you are, hand still hanging in the air from hugging him back so abruptly. A gush of familiarity washes over you as you stand there, still in a complete state of shock.

There’s not a lot of things that can leave you at a loss for words, but Oikawa will always be the one to make the impossible happen.

All the memories came back: that God forsaken first date, his volleyball matches and the heart wrenching break up. There were several things that factored to your break up and you still couldn’t entirely understand everything that had gone down.

“Hey, babe,” a hand sneaks up on your lower back and a kiss is planted on your forehead, “you’ve got everything?”

You jump and turn to face him, a wide smile replacing the frown on your face. “Yeah, just one more thing left.”

Oikawa had walked away a significant distance from you before he remembers that he doesn’t have any way to contact you. The groupchat would absolutely not shut up about it.

He whirls around and calls out your name, his shout is silenced by the sight in front of him and it told him that his friends’ words would probably hurt less.

Because there you are, all coddled up with the one person he couldn’t come to terms with. You’re in Ushijima Wakatoshi’s arms as you scanned the shelves again.

A sigh escapes his lips. Pressing his lips together, he nods slightly and turns back around to continue his day. This was his chance to make things right — to apologise for being so selfish when you were younger.

But maybe there’s just some things that should be left unsaid. So he just walked away.

akaashi keiji

there were hours that just went on for days

when alone at last we’d

count up all the chances

that were lost to us forever

Long distance is difficult. Having schedules that barely allowed proper conversations made it even worse to attempt to keep a dying relationship afloat.

It’s even more difficult since there is no relationship to uphold. You broke up a while after you moved for college, but whenever you’re back in town, you just couldn’t stay away. It’s worse because neither can he.

Whenever you’re together after months, it always felt like the hardships never happened at all. Months seemed to pass by like years whenever you were apart.

You’re lying on your stomach, face smushed into Akaashi’s arm as you lied in bed. Akaashi slips his hand under your shirt and rubs your bare back, eventually pressing his thumb into your shoulder. “I missed you so much — I missed this.”

You hum in response, pressing a chaste kiss to his arm. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

He inches forward and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Believe it, babe. I’m here.”

You reposition yourself to your side and try to make out his face in the dark of your bedroom. You nuzzle your face into his shoulder, a hand going around him and rubbing circles on his back. “You smell so good.”

“Everything is just not the same without you,” Akaashi mutters into your hair. “I swear, I just want it all to end. I love having you around.”

It was so hard not to miss him. The breakup was innocent and you ended on good terms. The closeness you had with one another is too good to permanently let go of.

“I wish I could stay,” you whisper, repositioning yourself once more. You press your back against his chest and let out a heavy sigh, grazing your fingertips up and down his forearm. “I just want to be with you.”

He buries his face into your hair sprawled out behind you. At some point, his perception of time whenever you came back changed. He never noticed it up until recently when Bokuto pointed it out.

Akaashi wasn’t just counting down how many days he had left before he can see you — it’s how long before he can hold you; before he can touch your skin.

When you’re together, it’s how many times does he get to see your face before he has to wait months before grazing upon the emotions that dawn on it. How many more times can he hear your laugh before he has to hear it over the phone every once in a while.

“You smell so good.” He props himself up on his elbow and moved the hair from your neck. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, his other hand trailing down to your thighs. “I can’t fit 5 months into the 3 days I have with you, (y/n).”

The air in the room quickly gets slightly more intense — he sucks on the skin and his hands still roaming around your bare thighs. “But I’ll try to make sure that we make up for the time we were apart.”

“Keiji,” you whisper shakily as he moves up your neck, still sucking on your skin sloppily. His hand blindly searches around for yours, squeezing it when a struggled moan pasts your lips. “Keiji, please.”

It’s a very complicated relationship that you have right now. You’re not exactly together, but you’re not exactly single either. You could do whatever you want while you’re apart, but you just could not bring yourself to see other people.

It scares you to see other people. Keiji is the greatest person you know and you don’t want to find out if there’s someone who can top the impression you have of him.

You just couldn’t let go.

You lie on your back as he moves on top, nudging your nose with his. “(y/n).”

“Keiji,” you sigh out, your fingers tangling themselves into his hair. Your back arches and your eyes widen when his hand moves higher up on your thigh. “I love you.”

He nods, processing your words. He dips back down to lock you in a deep kiss before he says it against your lips, “I love you too.”

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years

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2010s Art: Music, Games, and TV

So I love all forms of art. It may not seem like it since I tend to stick mainly to movies, with the odd cartoon or video game thrown in, but that’s really because movies are more my thing due to not being massive time investments. Like, don’t get me wrong, I gamed, I watched TV, I listened to music, but it was a lot more casual than my deep dive into becoming a major cinephile.

With games and TV, it was mostly issues of money and time respectively. I have a few consoles, mostly Nintendo and Sony ones, and my wife helped me experience Xbox games, but I just don’t have the money needed to experience every good game that comes out. With TV, the time investment is the biggest roadblock, especially when all the best shows have hour-long episodes these days. With movies, I just have to spend 90 minutes to two hours on average; for TV, it’s countless hours I could be watching movies. As for music… well, I listened to a lot, I just don’t feel totally qualified to properly rank and list songs and albums.

So instead of the big decade-spanning list for movies that I’m doing, I’m going to go over some things I enjoyed from the past decade and maybe a few things I didn’t in music, TV, and video games. Here’s a little guide so you know what stuff is something I consider one of my absolute favorites in any given medium - if it’s from this decade, it will be in bold, and if it’s from a previous decade but I experienced it this decade, it will be underlined.

Television

I figured I’d get this out of the way first since it’s the medium I have the least experience with. Let me put it this way: I have seen only one season of Game of Thrones, the first one (and by all accounts I dodged a bullet by dropping that show). I also had the misfortune of jumping in to The Walking Dead right as it was gearing up for its abysmal second season, which turned me off that and led to me only watching an episode here or there.

I had better luck watching live action shows on streaming. I managed to get through almost all of Pretty Little Liars on Netflix, which was a chore in and of itself; it’s a good show, but boy could it ever get arbitrary and frustrating. Speaking of Netflix, I think it goes without saying that Stranger Things is their best effort; from the likable cast of kids to the awesome soundtrack, even though it never really surpasses season one the show always has something cool going on in one of its plots. My other favorite from Netflix would probably be their take on A Series if Unfortunate Events, which is how you do adaptation expansion right; everything they add feels like it’s in service of fleshing out Lemony Snicket’s dismal world, as well as giving Patrick Warburton an incredible dramatic role as the Lemony narrator himself.

Amazon managed to score two hits in my book. The first is the unbelievably fun and charming Good Omens, a miniseries that somehow got me to love David Tennant and Michael Sheen more than I already did. The second was the gory joyride that is The Boys which while not the smartest or most original superhero satire is definitely the most fun.

While I didn’t watch the whole show and would not consider it one of my favorites, I do want to give props to Hannibal for introducing me to Mads Mikkelsen. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only person aside from Hopkins worthy of playing everyone’s favorite cannibal. Another show I DO consider a favorite despite slacking on keeping up with it is Ash vs. Evil Dead; I only needed to see a single season of Bruce back with the boomstick to know this show was a masterpiece.

On the animated side I have much more to talk about. Not since the 90s have we been spoiled with so many genuinely great and varied cartoons. We got Adventure Time, Regular Show, Steven Universe… really, Cartoon Network raised the bar this decade and made up for an awful 2000s. They even finally gave Samurai Jack a conclusion, which despite the mixed results, was still a real exciting phenomenon to experience.

Of course, my favorite CN show came from Adult Swim. I am of course referring to Rick & Morty, a fun sci-fi adventure comedy that attracted the most obnoxious fanbase possible in record time. While certainly not a show you need a high IQ to understand and having an atrocious third season, it still manages to be funny and thought provoking in equal amounts. Seriously though. Fuck season 3.

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is another great show that I sadly fell off the wagon of around the fifth or sixth season. It never got bad of course but it never really engaged me like the older episodes, though what I’ve heard of the last season makes me wish I’d kept up with it. It was a great show with a lot of heart and character, and I’m not sure we’ll ever see a show like it again.

Netflix did not slack in the animation department; I didn’t catch their most famous show (it’s the one about a certain Horseman) but I did catch their fantastic take on Castlevania, which as a huge fan of the series was a real treat. Where the fuck is Grant though?

My two favorite shows of the decade, however, are what I see as the pinnacle of East and West: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and Gravity Falls.

JJBA is a series I had vague passing knowledge of, only knowing its existence due to seeing Stone Ocean referenced on the Wikipedia page for air rods when I was younger and, of course, the memes that spawned from Heritage for the Future, which were inescapable back in the day. As soon as I got into the series, it became one of my biggest inspirations, teaching me you can be deep, complex, and filled with great character interactions while also being so batshit insane that every new and absurd power is incredibly easy to buy (looking forward to the rainbows that turn people into snails, animators). They managed to get through the first four parts and start up the fifth over the decade; so far my favorite part is four, mainly due to the magnificent bastard that is Yoshikage Kira (played time perfection by D.C. Douglas) and in spite of serial creep Vic Mangina playing the otherwise lovable asshole Rohan Kishibe.

Gravity Falls on the other hand is just a fun and engaging mystery show that manages to excel at being episodic and story-driven all at once. There’s only one or two “bad” episodes across two seasons, and it lasted just as long as it needed to, wrapping things up with a satisfactory ending that still gave fans a few mysteries to chew on. It also gave us Grunkle Stan, perhaps the greatest character in all of animation, the pinnacle of “jerk with a heart of gold” characters who is hilarious, badass, and complex all at once. This is my favorite western animated show…

...but then the last year of the decade threw a curveball and, if I’m being honest, is on par with Gravity Falls: Green Eggs and Ham. Netflix really wanted us to know 2D animation is back in 2019; between this show and Klaus, the future is looking bright for the medium. It’s a fun, funny roadtrip comedy that knows when to be emotional and when to be funny, and it’s all filtered through the wubbulous world of Dr. Seuss. It’s just a wonderfully delightful show.

And on the subject of JoJo, I had a kind of love-hate relationship with anime this decade. The attitudes of anime fans turned me off from anime for a long while. Sure, I checked out stuff like Attack on Titan and Sword Art Online, but neither series really clicked with me. The main anime I loved this decade were ones that started in the 2000s and ended in the 2010s, like Dragon Ball Z Kai and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. I suppose I did enjoy My Hero Academia, which is a really fun show with an awesome and varied cast and great voice acting. Love Froppy, best girl for sure.

One of the most unfortunate things about this decade was how many great shows got screwed over by their networks. Sym-Bionic Titan, Thundercats, and The Legend of Korra were all great shows in their own right but were treated like shit by their respective networks. It really makes me upset that stuff like that not only happened, but continues to happen to this day.

But let’s not end on a bad note; let’s talk about the astounding returns old shows got. Invader Zim got a movie as did Hey Arnold, with the latter in particular finally wrapping up the dangling plot threads, but those are actual TV movies so they don’t really fit here; what DOES fit is Static Cling, the triumphant return of Rocko’s Modern Life. A forty minute special, it follows Rocko and his friends as they navigate the modern age, trying to bring back Rocko’s favorite cartoon. Rachel Bighead’s arc in this in particular is pretty groundbreaking and awesome.

Also awesome was the first few episodes of Samurai Jack’s return, though it did end up petering out halfway through the season and ended on an anticlimactic note. Still, Tom Kenny’s Scaramouche, the sheer amount of continuity, and the awesome final curbstomp battle against Aku are worth giving this a watch. And if nothing else, stuff like this gives me hope for future revivals. What will we see next? Gargoyles comeback? Batman Beyond continuation? KENNY AND THE CHIMP REVIVAL?! Chimpers rise up!

Music

Much like everyone, I listened to a lot of music this decade. There was a lot of shit, and I definitely used to be one of those “wow no one makes good music anymore” morons, but I grew out of that and learned to look in the right places.

Let’s start with the albums I loved the most. Continuing her meteoric rise from the 2000s, Lady Gaga drooped her magnum opus, Born This Way, an album that successfully showcases her skills as she takes on numerous pop styles. No two songs sound the same, and with a couple of exceptions every song slaps. While we’re on the subject of pop stars, Gaga’s contemporary and lesser Katy Perry managed to hit a home run with the fun bit of pop fluff that was Teenage Dream.

Weird Al was sorely missed for most of the decade, but what albums he did drop featured some of his best work. While Alpocalypse doesn’t hold up quite so well, it’s still solid, but even then it is blown out of the water by Mandatory Fun, an album that just refuses to stop being funny from start to finish. And that’s not the only funny albums this decade; aside from artists I’ll get more into later, George Miller AKA Filthy Frank released Pink Season as one of his last great acts as his character of Pink Guy. The album is as raunchy and filthy as you’d expect. And then for unintentional comedy, Corey Feldman dropped Angelic 2 The Core, an album so musically inept that it ends up becoming endearing; it’s The Room of music.

As I gamed a lot this decade I got to experience a lot of great video game soundtracks, but the two I found to be the absolute best were Undertale and Metal Gear Rising’s. I couldn’t tell you which soundtrack is better, and I’ve actually made a playlist on my iPod containing my favorite tracks from both games. Pokemon had solid soundtracks all decade, but they definitely were better in single tracks such as Ultra Necrozma’s theme from USUM and Zinnia’s theme from ORAS.

And speaking of individual songs, there were a lot I really loved. The disco revival in the easel ide half of the decade lead to gems like “Get Lucky,” “Uptown Funk,” and… uh, “Blurred Lines.” The controversy to that one might be overblown, but it sure isn’t anything I really want to revisit.

Corey Feldman may be the king of unintentional comedy, but this decade was seriously ripe with so bad it’s good music. The crown jewel is without a doubt the giddy, goofy “Friday,” but I think the equally stupid but also endlessly more relatable Ark Music production “Chinese Food” is worth some ironic enjoyment as well.

Meme songs in general were pretty enjoyable, though it came at a price. Remember when everyone tried to be funny by ripping off “Gangnam Style?” Remember when people took that Ylvis song at face value? Irony and satire were lost on the masses. I think the best mene song of the decade, though, is “Crab Rave,” a bouncy instrumental dance track with a fun music video and an absurd yet hilarious meme tacked to it. And then we have “The Internet is for Music,” a gargantuan 30 minute mashup featuring every YTMND, 4chan, Newgrounds, and YouTube meme you could think of (at the time of its release anyway),

Then we get into artists. Comedy music was great this decade, with Steel Panther and The Lonely Island putting out great work all decade, but by far my favorite funny band is Ninja Sex Party. Dan “Danny Sexbang” Avidan and Brian “Ninja Brian” Wecht are pretty much my favorite entertainers at this point, with them easily being able to go from doing goofy yet epic songs where they fuck or party to doing serious and awesome cover albums where Dan flexes his impressive vocals. A big plus is how all of their albums are easily some of my favorites ever, with not a single bad CD, and that’s not even getting into their side project Starbomb. These guys are a treasure.

Then we have Ghost, a Swedish metal band who play up the Satanic panic for all it’s worth. These guys captured my interest when I heard the beautiful “Cirice” on the radio, and despite that song rocking the fuck out, Imagine my surprise when it ended up being only middle of the road awesome for this band! With killer original songs like “Rats,” “Mary in the Cross,” and “Square Hammer” to a awesome covers like “Missionary Man” and “I’m a Marionette,” it’s almost enough to get a guy to hail Satan. I think they appeal to me mainly because they have a style very in line with the 80s, most evident on tracks like “Rats.”

While I’d hesitate to call him one of my favorite musicians yet (he is really good so far though), one of my favorite people in entertainment is Lil Nas X. From his short but sweet songs that crush genre boundaries to his hilarious Twitter feed, this guy is going places and I can’t wait to see what those places are.

And finally, the guy I think may be one of the greatest creative geniuses alive and who has nearly singlehandedly shaped Internet culture with everything he does… Neil Cicierega. While it’s not like I only discovered him in the 2010s - the guy has been an omnipresent force in my life since Potter Pupper Pals debuted - he definitely became the guy I would unflinchingly call the greatest artist of our time over that period. Whether he’s releasing the songs under his own name or as Lemon Demon, you can always be sure that the songs are going to burrow into your brain. His Lemon Demon album Spirit Phone, which features songs about urban legends and the horrors of capitalism, is easily my pick for album of the decade. And then under his own name he released three mashup mixtapes: Mouth Sounds, Mouth Silence, and Mouth Moods. All three are stellar albums, but only Mouth Moods has “Wow Wow,” the bouncing track about homoerotic bee-loving Will Smith and outtakes so good they deserve to be on the next album.

Video Games

Having a PC this decade was great because it let me experience a lot of games I probably wouldn’t have otherwise, like Half-Life, BioShock, Earthnound, Mother 3, and Final Fantasy VI and VII. All of these and more are among my favorite games of all time now, but we’re here to talk about the stuff from this decade I consider great.

It’s hard to talk about this decade in gaming without mentioning Skyrim. Yes, it has flaws and the main storyline is a bit undercooked, but there’s so much fun to be had dicking about in the wilderness it’s hard to be too mad. And if you have mods, there are endless opportunities to expand the game. The same is true for the other game I have sunk countless hours into, The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth. Not only is there a thriving modding community, but it has been supported and encouraged by the creators and some mods have even made the leap into becoming fully canon! It’s always a blast to revisit and see how far I can break the game with item combos.

Surprisingly, Batman managed to get not one, not two, but THREE awesome licensed games this decade! Arkham Asylum, Arkham City, and the unfairly maligned Arkham Origins all kick as much ass as the Dark Knight himself. The former two reunite Mark Hamill and Kevin McConroy as Joker and Batman while the latter features numerous stellar boss battles. The combat in these games is so graceful and fluid, you WILL feel like Batman at some point, be it after flawlessly clobbering two dozen mooks or silently eliminating a room of thugs before they even realize you’re there.

Pokémon had a bit of a rocky decade; it started out strong with the fifth generation, the best games in the series with a great story, region, and sidequests and then just went downhill from there. Not incredibly so, of course - the games were always fun at least - but gens VI through VIII were not the most graceful steps into 3D. Still, every gen managed to produce some of my all-time favorite Pokémon. Gen V had Volcarona, Chandelure, and Meloetta; Gen VI gave us Hoopa, Klefki, the Fairy type in general, and a gorgeous mega evolution for my favorite Pokémon, Absol; Gen VII had the Ultra Beasts and Ultra Necrozma, some of the coolest concepts in the series, as well as Pyukumuku; and Gen VIII gave us Cinderace, Dracovish, Dracozolt, Polteageist, Hatterene, Snom, and Zacian. And those are just samplings mind you, these gens are full of hits.

Bringing back old franchises yielded amazing results. Look no further than the triumphant return of Doom in 2016, which had you ripping and tearing through the forces of Hell with guns, chainsaws, and your bear fucking hands. This game is HARDCORE. Less bloody and gory but no less awesome was the return of not just Crash Bandicoot, but Spyro as well in remakes that are easily the definitive ways to experience the games. And don’t even get me started on the remastered DuckTales!

Platinum games did not fuck around this decade, delivering Bayonetta 2 and Metal Gear Rising. The former is a balls-to-the-wall sequel to the amazing original Bayonetta that, while lacking in bosses quite as impressive as the first game’s, is more polished and has a fun story and a better haircut for Bayonetta; the latter is an action game so insane it makes the rest of the Metal Gear franchise look tame in comparison. The latter in particular is in my top ten games ever, with every boss battle feeling epic, all the music kicking ass, and Raiden truly coming into his own as a badass.

Speaking of Metal Gear, the divisive The Phantom Pain easily earns its place here. While much fuss has been made about the game being “unfinished,” it still has a complete and satisfying ending even if it doesn’t totally wrap up the dangling plot threads the young Liquid Snake leaves behind. The overarching themes as well as Venom and his relationship with characters like Kaz, Paz, and ESPECIALLY Quiet make this game, with his and Quiet’s being particularly beautiful and tragic. The Paz quest, Quiet’s exit, and the mission where Snake has to put down his men after they get infested with parasites are all some of the most heartbreaking moments in the franchise. But it’s not all tears; there’s plenty of fun to be had harassing Russians in Afghanistan while blaring 80s synth pop from your Walkman. Oh yeah, and fuck Huey.

The Ace Attorney series also thrived, with both Spirit of Justice and Dual Destinies transitioning the series into 3D a lot more graceful than some other franchises while still maintaining the with and charm the series is known for. And if that wasn’t enough for my point-and-cluck adventure needs, Telltale had me covered with The Wolf Among Us and the first season of The Walking Dead. The stories and characters of those games are so good, it’s enough to make you sad they never got a timely sequel or sequels that weren’t shit respectively.

This decade is when I really got into fighting game, though I’m not particularly good. I supported Skullgirls (and am even in the credits!), and got into Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3 and JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: All-Star Battle (and I also got into its spiritual predecessor, Heritage for the Future). But by and large my favorite fighting game of the decade and the one I’m actually pretty good at is Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, the most ridiculously ambitious crossover in video game history. The fact that the game is STILL getting more characters added is a testament of how insanely great the game is because instead of being mad that there’s so much DLC, people are going rabid waiting for news of more. It’s such an awesome, complete game out the door that the DLC feels earned rather than half a game being held hostage. Other devs, take note!

A lot of franchises put their best foot forward for sequels. God of War III was an awesomely bloody finale to the original journey of Kratos, with more epic bosses than ever; now he’s off fighting Norse gods, and I hear that game is even better! Portal 2 is just an absolute blast, and easily surpasses the first game on the merit of having Cave Johnson alone; the fact we get Wheatley and the malfunctioning personality cores honestly feels like overkill. Then we have BioShock… 2. While it’s certainly not as good as the first game, I think it was a lot of fun, and it got way too much flak.

I think it definitely aged better than Infinite which, while still a good game in its own right (it’s hard to hate a game with a character as endearing as Elizabeth), definitely was not warranting the levels of acclaim it got with such a muddled narrative. “Overrated” and “overhyped” are not words I keep in my vocabulary and I certainly would not describe Infinite as such, but I do feel like people got swept up in the gorgeous visuals and the story bits and characters that are effective and so weren’t nearly as critical of its flaws. It’s still a good, fun game with an interesting world, but it pales in comparison to the other two BioShocks. I feel like The Last of Us is in a similar boat. That being said, I couldn’t tell you why; it has a great story, good characters, plenty of replayability, and fascinating enemy design. But despite all that, I appreciate this game more than love it. It’s the Citizen Kane of video game sin that regard at least.

I’d be remiss to not mention the big indie successes of the decade. Shovel Knight is easily one is the greatest platform era ever made, taking everything great about the platformers on the NES and SNES, removing the bullshit, and delivering numerous bonus campaigns with unique playstyles. Then there was Abobo’s Big Adventure, a marvelous mashup of all sorts of games starring the beloved Double Dragon mook as he goes on a bloody quest to save his son. It’s a blast and there is tons of variety but some sections are definitely as hair-pullingly difficult as the games that inspired them. And then there is Doki Doki Literature Club, the free visual novel that brutally subverts your expectations. Sadly, I do feel the game loses some impact on subsequent playthroughs, but it’s still a great, effective story that skillfully utilizes meta elements.

Still, the greatest indie success of them all is Toby Fox’s masterpiece, Undertale. Charming, funny, emotional, and populated by a cast of some of the most fun and lovable characters ever conceived, this game was an instant smash and is still talked about to this day. Sure, things like Sans have been memed to death, but it’s hard to not just love and cherish the beautiful world Toby Fox managed to create. This game may not be the greatest game of all time, but for what it is I wouldn’t hesitate to name it the game of the decade.

There was a lot of great art in the 2010s, and while I couldn’t get around to all of it, I’m so happy with what I got to experience. Here’s hoping that the 2020s can be just as amazing!

#Music #video games #TV

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beyond-the-mirror · 5 years

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Music of the Night

The long wait is finally over!

Just another V x fem!reader I decided to start. This story takes place in an AU where almost everything is the same except for a few details, which include the fact that V is basically the Phantom of the Opera of this universe.

Tagging @thedyingmoon and @minteyeddemon, I remember how excited you both were when I shared this concept, it’s a bit long but I hope you all enjoy it!

Without further ado, let’s start!

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Chapter 1: Hauntings

The imposing building stood before you, intimidating you and stealing your breath for a few moments.

“Calm down (Y/N). You got this, you got this.” You cheered to yourself to shake your nerves away, closing your eyes taking and deep breath before exhaling. Opening your eyes once more, you crossed the grand entrance with renewed determination.

This was it. This was the day you were finally able to achieve your live long dream: Performing at Fortuna’s Opera House.

Once inside the building, a receptionist signaled you to the backstage entrance, kindly thanking him you rushed to your meeting with Monsieur Lefevre, the current owner of the theatre.

Performers as well as backup dancers and stage crew members rushed everywhere you looked, apparently a dress rehearsal for an adaptation of Puccini’s grand opera Madama Butterfly was about to take place in that very moment, meaning that everyone was pressured to get every single detail perfectly before the première in a few days.

Disoriented and a little overwhelmed by the crowd, you became lost in your way to find Lefevre’s office.

“Excuse me miss.” You heard a soft feminine right next to you. Figuring it was directed at you, you turned towards the voice. A young woman stood in front of you, she was wearing a gorgeously tailored dress with tiny flower petals resembling small butterflies sewn to the fabric, the jewels she was wearing also shared a butterfly motif and her long auburn hair was styled in a simple yet elegant up-do.

“I couldn’t help but notice you looked a bit lost, are you looking for someone in particular?” Her voice had genuine concern towards you.

“Uhm yes actually! I have an appointment with Monsieur Lefevre.”

“Oh you must be the new dancer! His office is right this way, please follow me.”

You let out a sigh of relief once you arrived at the owner’s office. Thank heavens for this woman’s help, otherwise you feared that you would have arrived late to such an important meeting for your career.

“Thank you so much, you totally saved me there! My name is (Y/N) by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure, mine is Kyrie. If there is something you need help with or any questions that you may have, you are welcome to ask me anytime.”

A member of the stage crew then called for Kyrie, her queue to appear on stage getting closer. She waved at you and wished you good luck before departing towards the stage. Alone once again, you knocked on the office’s door and awaited for an answer before entering.

“Ah Miss (Y/N)! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Mr Lefevre received you warmly, you shook his hand before also greeting the woman standing next him. “I’m sure you still remember Madame Trish here, right now she was telling me about your stunning performance in the auditions. I’m sure you are going to be an excellent addition to our company.”

“Oh no, the honor is actually mine Monsieur. Performing here has been my childhood dream, I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity.”

“Your skills and talent make you worthy of a spot here, you don’t have to thank us.” Trish placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “But enough of that now, let us show you around the place so you get to know it better.”

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The more you walked, the more you knew about the hectic schedule of everyone in the theatre, still that didn’t erase the starstruck look in your eyes. Trish explained with detail your daily schedule and activities, most importantly your dance lessons which will be imparted by herself nonetheless and that she will have zero tolerance for late arrivals, with exception of critical emergencies of course. Monsieur Lefevre kindly pointed out that although strict and a little frivolous, Trish was actually a very caring woman, her dedication was what made her the current choreographer and supervisor in charge of all performers.

At the end of your long tour, Monsieur Lefevre invited you to watch the rest of the rehearsal from the first row, with Trish now leaving to supervise everything. On stage you spotted Kyrie, who waved at you as soon as she recognized you. As you had deduced earlier, she was the main soprano of the theatre, when she started performing and singing as Madama Butterfly you were stunned by how spectacular her voice sounded.

‘Everyone here is so talented’. You pondered to yourself as you watched the entire scene, the backup dancers supporting Kyrie’s number and the stage crew operating the moving scenery and carrying the props. You hoped to fit well in this place.

During a break, your cellphone rang and you excused yourself to answer the call. After reaching a quiet enough place, you answered. It was a call from your mother.

Just a year ago, your father died from cancer, it was already on terminal stage when it was detected. Instead of taking chemotherapy, he wished to spend the little time he had left with you and your mother. You remember his last words towards you.

“My child, I know how you dream of becoming a singer. Hold on tight to that dream and never let go, one day you shall achieve everything you set your sights upon. I love you my angel of music, I shall always watch over you.”

His words gave you the strength to keep going forward and move on. Eventually your mother wanted you both to move out of Fortuna, but you decided to stay, wanting to become independent and start living by yourself. She respected your decision, and from then on, she would often call you to check on you.

After saying goodbye to your mother, you ended he call. However when you headed back to the stage you noticed that something felt odd. The hallway was empty, only the far away sound of the rehearsal could be heard, but for some reason you didn’t feel quite alone, in fact, you felt like you were being watched.

You glanced everywhere, but you didn’t spot anyone. Shrugging it off as your imagination, you continued walking through the hallway. It was then that you heard a whisper behind you, quickly turning around you thought you caught sight of a shadow rushing behind a corner. You took a couple of steps towards it, still not sure if what you saw was real or a part of your imagination.

“Hello?” you called out, but no answer came.

“(Y/N)”

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest. Trish was right behind you, having looking for you before finding you in the hallway. “There you are. Come, I want to introduce you to everyone.”

After getting to know your coworkers, you definitely felt welcome in this new little world.

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“So (Y/N), do you believe in ghosts?” The girl in the seat next to you, Nico, questioned you out of nowhere.

It’s been a couple months since you started working at the opera house. You and Kyrie instantly became friends and she introduced you to Nico, the stage crew coordinator who took care of every prop and moving scenery in the theatre. You would often hang out together, right now you were enjoying dinner at a small coffee shop downtown, you even found Trish along the way with Lady, a friend of hers who worked as a bounty hunter of sorts, she didn’t want to specify more about it but you respected the discretion. You five ladies had been having a moment of girl talk when Nico brought up her question about ghosts.

“I really can’t say I believe in them, I’ve never seen one myself but who knows? Why do you ask?”

“Well, just wondering in case you haven’t heard about the rumors.”

You looked at her in confusion until Kyrie decided to explain to you.

“I guess you haven’t heard them. People believe that a ghost is currently haunting the opera house, but so far no one’s been able to see it properly.”

“Yep.” Nico interrupted after taking a sip from her smoothie. “So far the only evidence are disappearing objects, props appearing in places they weren’t before, and some even claimed to have seen a shadow moving behind corners.”

A shadow moving behind corners?

“I personally don’t believe in such nonsense.” Trish stated nonchalantly. “Those might as well have been caused by careless crew members who would rather blame a ghost than admitting their irresponsible actions.”

“But what about what the concierge claimed the other day?” Kyrie continued with the conversation. “He said he heard a male voice in Box Four, which is odd because that box was empty that day, in fact no patron has requested that box in quite some time.”

“Maybe someone entered the box while security wasn’t looking?” You wondered aloud. It is true that you witnessed what Nico had previously said about misplaced objects and how sometimes you would feel watched although nobody was around but you, then again, Trish’s explanation actually made more sense than the existence of an actual ghost.

“Ghost or not, I hope whatever it was won’t cause you any trouble in the future.” Lady added in the hopes of changing the subject. “But enough of that, how about we instead talk about much more positive stuff?”

Though everyone in the booth agreed, you still had your doubts.

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It was just another day in the opera house, rehearsing and practicing your choreography for the next play. You were just finishing your dance lessons when you were approached by Nico.

“Hey there darlin’! Would you mind taking this props to the storeroom over there for me? Apparently a spotlight got damaged and I’ve got to check it out.”

After letting her know you didn’t mind at all, she gave you a thumbs up before leaving. Poor Nico, she really deserved a break.

After storing all the props away, you glanced around yourself. Noticing that the storeroom was empty, you decided to practice singing. After all these years, you still weren’t confident in your voice, and when your father died, it got worse, only singing when you were alone and sure nobody could hear you.

You started with one of your favorite songs.

“What if I were a snow storm burning,

what of I were a world unturning,

what if I were an ocean,

far too shallow, much too deep.

What if I were the kindest demon,

something you may not believe in

what if I were a siren

singing gentlemen to sleep.”

Suddenly the lights went out and the door to the storeroom slammed close, leaving you in almost complete darkness and making you let out a small scream of surprise. For some odd reason, the room felt much colder than before, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

A voice deep inside your heart told you, you were not alone in this room.

“I heard an angel singing, when the day was springing…” A dark male voice sounded from inside the darkness that surrounded you. You glanced around, looking for whoever was speaking, but you found nobody.

Was this the phantom that haunted the opera house?

“Mercy, pity, peace; is the world’s release. Thus she sung all day, over the new mown hay, till the sun went down and haycocks looked brown…” the voice continued, making shivers run down your spine. “Such beautiful voice, like that of an angel from The Creator’s celestial choir… a diamond in the rough that has yet to be polished, a flower that has yet to fully bloom.”

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

“Hush my divine angel, no need to fear. I am merely a patron of this fine theatre, one that has watched over its many successful plays in delight. And if you allow me to be frank, your voice is one of the most delectable I’ve heard during my stay here.”

Whoever this entity was, you had to admit his voice was having a calming effect on you despite how scared you were feeling. It was soft like fine silk and molten like pure honey dripping down.

“What do you want?” You inquired this mysterious ghost.

The entity chuckled deeply, one that you could feel rumbling in your chest. “You fear rejection, that’s why you hide your precious talent here, where no one but yourself can witness it. Alas, I have found you my shy angel, and now I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

You took a few steps backwards hoping to find the door, however your attempt at escaping was thwarted when someone grasped your wrists from behind.

You let out a gasp. You could feel his breath on your neck “Running away from me? You hurt me so my child.” He spoke right next to you ear. The phantom’s presence was so overwhelming, and complete with his deep sensual voice you couldn’t help but blush and submit to him.

He slowly let go of your wrists, but you remained completely still. “I have looked after this opera house from the shadows since many years ago, its meaning a very important one for me. I have watched over you too, I have witnessed your determination, your fierceness to pursue your dreams and keep moving forward, they have warmed my heart deeply so.”

He turned you around, and though you couldn’t see him well, you could feel his eyes connecting with yours “I wish to help you achieve your dreams.”

You felt scared no longer. His embrace was so warm and safe, like a guardian willing to protect everyone that sought refuge. You still had your doubts though, who was this mysterious man? Was he really a ghost? A spirit tasked with protecting this building?

You closed your eyes. Without realizing it, you were already answering him “W-what do I have to do?”

A moment of silence. “Everyday, at 12 o’clock, this area is left completely unsupervised. I believe it is also the time all ballet dancers take an hour long break before continuing their lessons. At that time, you shall meet me here. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Complete silence. Before you knew it, the presence in front of you disappeared and shortly after, the lights went back on. When you opened the door, the voice spoke again.

“I shall be waiting for you, my angel of music.”

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So there you go! The first chapter of Music of the Night.

We meet the girls Trish, Lady, Nico and Kyrie in the opera house and befriend them shortly after. I’m planning to add the rest of the DMC cast as well so stay tuned.

A few references in this chapter: The song reader sings at the storeroom is called ‘What If’ and it’s by Emilie Autumn. Also, when the concierge mentions hearing a voice from Box Four it’s a reference to the original play; however in the original it was Box Five, I changed it to Four since according to a japanese superstition, the japanese word for ‘four’ sounds almost identical to their word for ‘death’. Quite befitting to this story and V in particular don’t you think?

#devil may cry #phantom of the opera #au #dmc v #v x reader #v x you #fanfiction #fanfic #romance

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matildainmotion · 4 years

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An Encouraging Blog about Despair

Recently I have been in despair. I notice as I write this that despair is like love – it’s a feeling that you do more than feel – you are in it. In love. In despair. Something larger than you, in which you reside, an atmosphere, a weather.

I am not good at being in despair. At Halloween I wrote a blog about fear, about being good at feeling afraid. I’m experienced at fear, paradoxically comfortable with the discomfort of it. This is not true of despair, at which I am terrible. Fear is energetic. It makes my heart go fast, ready for fight or flight. Despair makes me want to lie down and never get up again, and I don’t know how to manage this, how to carry this wish for an absolute lack of action, a kind of anti-wish, a wish for no more wishing.

I had an afternoon of despair in John Lewis in Kingston. It was one of the last shopping days before Christmas – crowds of people, multiple storeys of multiple mounds of stuff. I had to steer the children past the gold-wrapped chocolate boxes and giant gingerbread men, walk them through glossy, mirrored aisles of carefully coloured lipsticks and nail varnish. We made it to the lifts. We were headed for the bed linen department: displays of patterned duvets covers; shelves of fitted sheets; a choice between foam, feathered and other kinds of fluff-filled pillows. My son and I had a disagreement about which duvet cover to purchase for my husband. My son wanted the blue, stripy one. I wanted the one in black and white with a pattern reminiscent of trees. I thought I should get to choose what I bought for Daddy. He was okay with that, he said, as long as I agreed with his choice. He got angry and tried to kick me. His little sister meanwhile was running up and down the shiny floors and veering off to press her nose against the glass of the balcony that looked down over the many other departments. In that moment, for many reasons, I wanted to lie down and never get up again. Not on one of the display beds. Right where I was on the department floor, between the balcony and the start of the shelves of sheets. It was not because of the kids – they were my best reason to keep standing. But I couldn’t do it, because I am not good at despair- I’d rather be scared or angry. So I got more angry with my son, which wasn’t fair, and we all ended up in tears, and Daddy got more sets of duvet covers than I had intended.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine, writes Mary Oliver, who died this year, in her poem Wild Geese. Let me try to do that, to tell you about my despair, in an attempt to get better at it. This is the time of year for writing lists – lists of things achieved in the last year, lists of things to get done in the next. Hopeful lists. Lists are generally hopeful – they imply possibility. I don’t think, out of all the lists I have written in my life, I have ever made a ‘To Despair List.’ Let me do that now.

Here are some things about which I am in despair:

- My impatience with my mother, which comes from not wanting her to be nearly 80 and ready to sit down sometimes, or to focus on the small things – what kind of wood to put on the stove- when I am screaming quietly about the big things (the melting ice, rising seas) which I know she cannot fix but still, like a little girl, wish that she could.

- How often I do not stop to give someone who is homeless money, either because these days I pay for everything by card and so have no change, or because I am not brave enough to get over the awkward, uncomfortable gap of me, upright, walking past, and the man or woman, sitting, propped up outside Tescos with a paper cup.

- How when I do have the courage to stop and give money a part of me believes this makes everything okay.

- The election result and Boris Johnson. How I do not allow the children to call each other names but do allow them to call Boris Johnson “a stupid idiot,” even though I know this solves nothing and, long term, makes the deep divisions, that are the real problem, worse.

- Climate change, of course, but also how I am too cowardly to read the literature that would make my despair better informed.

- Consumerism, how many duvet covers I could choose, how gross are the inequalities of rich and poor, and the many ways in which I participate in the system that creates this disparity.

- The number of emails I get every day from people doing good work and asking for money to support their work and how I do not know to which to give or how much because it is all good and all critically important.

- How often I end up shouting at the children or making threats to them despite having read numerous conscious and alternative parenting books.

- My ability to sleep soundly through the night.

- Brexit, what it will mean and how I keep on putting off getting my daughter a passport.

- My children staying seated at the kitchen table and eating a wholesome supper I have made them – an image of motherhood I daily fail to fulfil.

- The big things – racism, poverty, refugees, rape, war, starvation, environmental destruction - and knowing that under all the big things are a million little things, specific people, animals, habitats, details, and a million moments of exact and awful loss.

I could go on, but that will do, for now, because writing this list has reminded me of when I was 7 and rather religious, and the lists I made back then. I used to go in secret to my room every day after school and pray. I felt simultaneously embarrassed about this- too shy to tell even my mother- and yet also that it would be shameful not to do it. I had decided that to be a good person it was necessary for me to list, on my knees, every day, all the people and troubles that I knew – it took me a good hour and I remember worrying about how to explain my absence to everyone during this time. Even back then I felt furtive about despair, about my sense of inadequacy in the face of all that is troubled and all that needs care in the world.

You do not have to be good, writes Mary Oliver. You do not have to walk on your knees/ For a hundred miles through the desert repenting./ You only have to let the soft animal of your body/ Love what it loves./ Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine./ Meanwhile the world goes on…

Meanwhile the children, those soft animals, are growing up. My son turns eight next week. What to do? How to go on, caring for him and my daughter, whilst despairing? I can’t lie down and weep whenever I wish. Punishing prayer is not the answer either, but I do find myself coming round to a word that has religious connotations: faith.

I am finding that being a mother requires me to have faith in the future. I realise as I write this that faith is different from hope. I can feel hopeless but be faithful. Hope has expectations. Faith does not. Hope involves trying to guess what the future might look like. Faith involves embracing genuinely not knowing. I am in despair, I can live in hope, but with faith, I am not ‘in’ it – rather it is something I must actively put into other things no matter how I am feeling: I must have faith in the children.

When my husband and I got married we wrote our own wedding vows. The ending of my vows to him went like this:

I don’t promise never to have crazy crushes, or even fall in love with other men, women, books, landscapes, ways of life….but I promise to be faithful to you, for you to stay as my centre, my home. A final word on being ‘faithful’ - not sleeping with anyone else seems like the least of it. Faithful, full of faith - faith is a belief not based on proof: I promise to believe in you and in our togetherness for the rest of our lives, even at the times when there is no evidence, no proof that it is a good idea.

Rereading this vow helps me now. I hope my children may live long and joyful lives, but I often despair that this is possible – there is no proof that it will happen. Meanwhile, I can still have faith in them and in my act of caring for them. I can believe in this process – the process of them growing up and me witnessing and supporting them to do it, however imperfectly it unfolds.

As has become my practice, I find it useful and affirming when I align my mothering and my making. I am writing a novel. I have been writing it for a long time, for the same length of time as I have been a mother. I hope it will be brilliant. I hope it will get published. Some days these hopes seem ridiculous. However, every day I have faith that it is worth my writing it whatever happens.

The first gift my husband ever gave me was a book called The Gift by Lewis Hyde. In it Hyde describes the act of making and the act of giving as inextricably connected. You make something, then you give it away so that you can make something else, and then you give that away too, and on and on. When you make and give in this way it is an act of faith because you have to let go entirely of whatever you have made – you do not know and cannot control what will become of it. Like being a mother to a child. And maybe this is what despair has to teach me, because being in despair, like being in love, involves a kind of letting go, a relinquishing of control – no wonder I’m not good at it.

Meanwhile, as the children bounce on the bed, with its new duvet cover, I read others online discussing how much to share or not with their children of the woes of the world that are present and coming, and of climate change in particular – do we bring them up to be aware? Or protect them from the anxiety of it for as long as possible? It is a good question but there is something in it that, for me, is often missing from the conversation. It is this: the future is theirs, not mine. My son learnt to read by studying danger signs and the exact instructions to be followed in states of emergency – I suspect he and my daughter both understand more about the future already than I do. To quote from another poet, Kahil Gibran, “Your children are not your children…For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.” I can tell them what I know about climate change but my knowledge is necessarily limited, no matter what I have or haven’t read. I can’t tell them about the future – I can’t even visit it in my dreams. But I can continue to have faith in them and in their tomorrows. I can continue the process of mothering and making, of giving away whatever I have made, including them.

“Meanwhile…” Mary Oliver says again, “Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,/ are heading home again./ Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,/ the world offers itself to your imagination,/ calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -/ over and over announcing your place/ in the family of things.”

Meanwhile, the world keeps on offering itself to you, whoever you are – the world, the geese in it and everything else, carry on gifting regardless. Isn’t that amazing? And my job, I think, in despair or in love, has to be to keep on offering my imagination back to the world, regardless. I will do that, even if all I can offer right now is a blog about despair.

One thing I offered to the world a few years back is a thing called Mothers Who Make. It is a grass roots, peer support network, growing across the UK and overseas. It is about announcing the place of two activities- mothering and making - in the world, over and over, keeping faith in their value no matter what, no matter how lonely or despairing any mother may feel.

If you are a mother and a maker, of any kind, you can come to a hub meeting and tell the other women there about your despair, and they will tell you about theirs. You can also tell them about what you love. And you do not have to be good. You can find out if there is a meeting near you here.

And if you cannot make it in person to a group, you can connect online - we have a lively Facebook community.

Mothers Who Make is currently unfunded and so if it feels like a good kind of gifting to you, an act of faith you can make, you can give us £3 per month, so that we can, meanwhile, go on – go on making and giving, making and giving, for now and for the future which we cannot visit, but which our children will.

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grade11faithproject · 4 years

Text

1. Short Story

Dear Annie

November 6, 2017

Dear Annie,

I’m sorry I wasn’t able to visit you at the hospital today. School really has a way of keeping you busy at the worst times, I guess. The head office all of a sudden announced that they wanted some of the high school students to stay around till 6pm just to help with the decorations for the upcoming school play, surprisingly I was one of them. Yaay! (note the sarcasm) I honestly think they aren’t really thinking things through, they should’ve told us in advance, and should have at least lessened the homework for today. The worst thing about it is that we didn’t even do anything! Majority of us just sat there staring into nothing, while the student council, drama club, visual arts club, and the teachers discussed/argued (well the arguing went between the students of the clubs and the student council) about the appropriate designs and props for each scene. If you were there you probably would’ve gotten us out, but unfortunately for me I’m not as sneaky as you are. So I just stayed for 2 hours. It really was a waste of time, I wished they just planned this before-hand, before demanding that we stay in the auditorium to help with props and designs that haven’t even been planned yet! Ugh, seriously this is such a bad day. I was low-key regretting not listening to you when you taught me how to sneak out of school during after class practices, but of course knowing me I’m too scared to do things on my own. I guess this is a sickness of mine, relying on you too much.

A funny thing happened on my walk home though. I passed the bakery where we always hung out in, and ordered some hot chocolate. The owner saw that I was alone, and asked where you were. I told her that you were sick and couldn’t make it to school. Then she gave me the hot chocolate, she handed me a bag of cookies and told me it was on the house, and for me to give to you as a ‘get well soon’ gift. The funny thing about it was that she referred to you as my “partner-in-crime” when in reality I’m kind off just your assistant. I don’t mind though, I don’t like doing too much work anyway. I guess I’ll just try to drop this letter off tomorrow when I come visit you, hopefully the head office won’t make us stay till 6pm again.

-Mark

P.S.

I’m sorry, I ate the cookies.

November 10, 2017

Dear Annie

Remember what you told me 3 years ago? You told me it was around midnight and you went to down stairs to get a glass of water, but you were greeted with the sight of your mother crying. You said you dreaded the sight, that it was the most heart breaking thing you have ever seen. At first, I couldn’t really get why you felt so bad, I mean everyone cries, it’s only normal for your mom to cry too. I guess at the time I couldn’t really relate since I didn’t have a mother of my own, but when I visited you at the hospital today, I can finally say that I see what you mean. I told your mom that I wasn’t going to be able to visit you today since I thought the school was going to make us stay till 6pm again, but turns out they didn’t so I went to visit you while totally forgetting to tell your mom about it.

When I got to your room and opened the door, I was greeted with the same sight you saw that night 3 years ago. Your mom was sitting on a chair beside your bed, holding your hand, crying while begging you to wake up. It really was heart breaking to see. It was heart breaking because the woman I saw nearly everyday, who was always so strong, always put on a smile, faced her problems head on, had been putting on a mask to cover her genuine sadness. I’m not an idiot to not realize that she’s obviously really sad about this, and it’s only normal that she’s crying, but this really was my first time seeing her cry. What was even more heart breaking was when she saw me enter, she let go of your hand, dried her tears and once again put on a smile. She even got up from her seat just to hug me. That’s when I started crying, for you and for your mom. If you were awake you probably would’ve teased me about how ugly I looked when I cried. I used to hate it whenever you did that, but now I would really give anything just for little moments like that.

-Mark

November 13, 2017

Dear Annie,

So the school made the whole high school department stay after class again for an announcement. You could clearly hear the groans and complaints from all the other students, I honestly didn’t want to stay either, but I guessed it was just for an announcement, at least they weren’t making us stay till the sun finally set. So the drama club wanted to announce this year’s school play. To everyone’s surprise it was the Wizard of Oz. They also announced that they will post forms for those who want to audition for what characters they want, and that they would post the date for the auditions on the bulletin board as well. When we were finally dismissed, the drama club president approached me and told me to tell you about the play since she was really rooting for you to play as the Good Witch of the North, she even gave me the sample script for you to memorize. I nearly scoffed since that type of character doesn’t really seem to fit you. I’m thinking you would make a great Wicked Witch of the West. I wonder how you would look like with green skin. Hurry up and wake up already, I really wanna see you play.

-Mark

November 27, 2017

Dear Annie,

Your dad came to visit you today. Let’s just say the visit was quite a surprise to both your mom and I, and let’s just say your mom wasn’t really happy about your dad visiting you nearly 4 weeks after your accident. She asked what took him so long to get here, and he replied with the most revolting answer, “I was busy with work, I had hundreds of paper work to file”. Honestly if I only had the courage to talk back to you dad I would’ve, but unfortunately I don’t, and your mom already beat me to it. She told him, “This is so like you, you’re so selfish and all you care about it work. Your daughter is on a hospital bed fighting for her life, and all you can think about is all the paper work you have to file”. I really wanted to laugh at that time because it reminded me of that time when we were in the 8th grade and it was your first time acting in a play, you were the main character too, you told your dad about it, but in the end he didn’t even sit on the seat that you reserved for him. Then when the play was over, I went backstage to come get you, but then I saw you crying and you told me that your dad was so selfish, that he knew how important this was to you, yet he couldn’t even make time for you and that all he could think about is work. Obviously both situations weren’t a laughing matter, I just found it funny how similar you are to your mom, and how you would probably say the same if you saw him, and if you were conscious. Although you most likely wouldn’t actually say that to your dad, I guess that what you and I have in common as well.

-Mark

December 3, 2017

Dear Annie,

It’s has been officially a whole month since your accident. Rereading the first sentence makes it look like I’m so enthusiastic about it. Please wake up, I’m really lonely in school nowadays. Although I have Eric to hang out with, but it’s really not the same. I mean we are good friends, but he’s just not you. I’m not trying to have Eric as your replacement while you’re gone, it’s just that I can’t seem to find anyone who understands and relates to me like you do. I don’t know if this is a sign that I’m that much of a difficult human being, if that is the case then I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, or I really should’ve listened to you and actually socialized with other people. Ugh wake up already, it’s almost Christmas, and knowing how lazy you are, you probably haven’t even bought me anything and I also planned something for you, so you better wake up before Christmas. I’m kidding, but seriously though everyone misses you. I miss you.

-Mark

December 15, 2017

Dear Annie,

So today was the auditions for the school play, and I approached the president of the drama club. I was about to tell her that you couldn’t make it to the auditions, but then she told me that she knows and that she wishes you a fast recovery, then left to go inside the auditorium. Dumbfounded wasn’t even close to how I was feeling after that. Although I don’t really know why I’m so surprised about the school knowing about what happened to you when it’s only normal for this kind of stuff to travel around. I don’t really know anyone, other than me, Eric, and some of the teachers, who knows about what happened to you. It’s not like Eric and I have any other friends in school to tell this to. So maybe the teachers were probably talking about it, and some of the students overheard. It’s just a theory. Why am I so upset about this? It’s not like I could’ve done anything from the news from spreading, nor was I the one who told anyone about it. Other than that happening, I lost my last remaining pencil, spilled my juice on my uniform, and lost my homework. Quite a nice day don’t you think so? Ugh it really is a Monday, but at least Christmas vacation starts on Wednesday this week.

-Mark

December 25, 2017

Dear Annie,

Merry Christmas weirdo! I spent the nearly whole day at your house, since I volunteered to help your mom cook dinner. After stopping by to visit you in the hospital, your mom, dad, and I went to the grocery that afternoon buy some stuff that was needed for dinner. When we got back to your house, I was expecting your dad to just be sitting by the dining area while doing some work, but to my surprise (and your mom’s too) he didn’t. Your dad asked if he could help prepare dinner and your mom gave him certain tasks to do and such. It really felt like we were a family preparing our own Christmas dinner, your mom started telling your dad about things he’s missed out on, and your dad would crack some jokes here and there, he asked how my aunt and I was doing. Then after cooking dinner, I was about to bid your parents goodbye, but they asked me to stay for dinner since no one was really home since Aunt Lucy went on vacation. I had a really great time, although I feel bad since you should’ve been the one who was there, not me, it feels like I’m stealing something of yours, like I’m stealing the opportunity for you to see your family happy and complete. I really wish you were there to witness it and be able to experience it, it was everything you told me you wanted. Well, I guess I don’t have a gift from you this year, nor can I continue on with the plans I made, I’m so disappointed. Just kidding, gifts aren’t really that important and my “plans” could always be moved on some other day. I really just want you to wake up. Merry Christmas, Annie.

-Mark

January 1, 2018

Dear Annie,

Happy New Year! Dude, now I see why you’re so annoyed with all these posts about, “It’s the New Year already, but why haven’t you changed yet?” I do agree these posts are really irritating, seriously what makes a person think that just because it’s a brand new year other people are automatically going to change? Just let theperson change when they’re ready. New Year celebrations are really overrated, it’s literally just another year, it’s just that that the calendar is different, and everyone is going to get a year older again. Same with birthdays too. I remember we would always be so excited about Christmas, our birthdays, New Year’s, but as we got older things changed, those celebrations aren’t as exciting as they used to be, oh well that’s growing up for you (as what my aunt would always say).

Awhile ago your mom asked me why I kept writing you letters, I guess she was weirded out by me, I mean I have to admit it is a little though. None the less I told her that it was a way to keep you updated about what went one while you were asleep, like whenever you wouldn’t be able to make it to school, I would tell you what happened and the homework that needs to be done. Your mom was touched that I took the time out of my day to write you, I told her that it wasn’t a bother. I am your best friend after all.

- Mark

P.S.

Speaking of homework, you have a lot to catch up on.

January 12, 2018

Dear Annie,

A miracle has come upon us! I finally found your hair tie that you’ve been looking for. Turns out it was in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I’m not sure how that got there, but I’ll just leave it there. When you read this one make sure to remind me to give it back to you. Oh, and I also found your missing pen inside one of the drawers on my bedside table. We’ve been over each other’s houses for so many times, I wouldn’t be surprised my missing pencil was probably at your house.

I miss having you over, I miss hanging out with you, I miss teasing you, I miss going out to that bakery we pass by after school, I miss talking to you, I miss hearing your laugh. God, I miss everything about you, Annie. Please just wake up so everything just goes back to normal. I really have something to tell you, but it’s something I just don’t feel comfortable writing on paper.

-Mark

January 31, 2018

Dear Annie,

I always knew the world was unfair, I just didn’t know it was this much of a cheat. It was unfair to everyone, to me, to your parents, to your other friends, and especially to you. Why does it have to be this way? This wasn’t meant to happen, none of this was meant to happen. Your accident, you falling into coma, none of that was supposed to happen, and now.. I can’t even bring it up, it just makes everything feel worse. I feel sick to my stomach, I feel like I’m having nightmare that just feels too realistic. Please tell me this it is a dream, please tell me when I wake up, you’ll be there sitting on the couch watching “Beauty and the Beast” for the hundredth time already. Please Annie, wake me up from this horrible nightmare. I can’t take this. I miss you so much, but I guess missing you it the only thing I can ever do. I can only miss hanging out with you, I can only miss talking to you, I can only miss seeing you.

There are so many things I wish I could’ve told you. I wish I told you how ridiculous you look when to do the chicken dance. I wish I told you how much you sucked at video games. I wish I told you that when you laugh you sound like you’re about to have an asthma attack. I wish I told you that your smile is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. I wish I told you that every time I saw you cry it would break my heart into a hundred pieces. I wish I told you that even if you sound like a seal, hearing you sing could make my entire day. I wish I told you that seeing you happy was the best thing in the world. I wish I told you how much I love you.

Surprising, huh? Probably not. I’ve had a crush on you since we were in the 3rd grade. I thought it was just a feeling that would come and go, but it wasn’t. As the years passed, the crush I’ve had for you never went away like I’d hoped, but it did the complete opposite. For the past 9 years, I’ve only fallen deeper in love with you. I fell in love with the way you belted out all of your favourite songs, I fell in love with your weird personality, I fell in love with the sound of your laugh, the way you scrunch your nose in the slightest bit whenever you smile. I fell in love with you, Annie. I was supposed to tell you last Christmas, but I wasn’t able to because of what happened. I’m sorry, I know I told you that I didn’t want to write whatever I had to say in paper, but now this really is the only way to confess to you.

This is going to be my last letter. I wrote these letters for you to read when you wake up, but there’s really no need for that anymore. I miss you. So I guess I should end this letter now.

Good bye, Annie. I love you to be moon and back.

-Mark

P.S.

Tell my parents I said “Hi”.

#short story

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reekierevelator · 5 years

Text

On the Eve of the Wedding

Finishing up at work on Friday nights was never easy. There was always one last thing to do. And then another last thing. And another. It was never easy ensuring all the vans had returned from making deliveries and all next week’s orders were fully processed and ready to be loaded first thing Monday morning. And presentation was important. If the vans came back filthy a quick hose down was necessary.

Being loading bay supervisor was a reasonable job but I was hoping to make transport manager before I hit thirty. After that I figured it might be time to settle down. But that Friday all I was thinking was at least it was the end of the week. So, at last, time for a pint at the local, the works’ crowd gathering in the Sheared Sheep, just to be sociable and wind down, reducing the week’s stresses and strains to old war stories, something to make each other laugh about.

And Friday nights I liked a drink. Didn’t take the old jalopy in on Fridays. So later I’d generally pick up fish and chips or a pizza, or end up in an Indian restaurant with some of the gang. If I got the early bus back to my little bachelor pad on the outskirts of town I’d maybe get something delivered. But this Friday night was different.

It was Rebecca Ralston, the red head from the marketing department. I seemed to have been bumping into her for the last few weeks. The main offices were at the opposite end of the site to the loading bay but somehow she’d felt the need to come over several times, wanting to talk to me about planning new adverts for the vans, different colour schemes, scheduling printing, application to the vehicles and so on. And this even though the current advertising contract still had almost a year to run.

Not that I minded. She was a bubbly sort of girl, an effervescent personality. Irregular teeth like pushed over tombstones but still easy on the eye. She brought a little brightness into the windowless little office in the dark cavern of the loading bay. She liked to talk with a hand on my arm or my shoulder, making sure she had my attention. And that day she hinted that after work on Fridays it wasn’t unusual for her to find her way to the Sheared Sheep. As it happened it suited her, she said, living close enough to just walk home if she happened to stay late.

Unfortunately, it was nearly eight when I finally got everything wrapped up and made that watering hole. The pub was already in that in-between phase where most of the early evening ‘couple of pints after work’ crowd had already been, drunk their quota, and gone off to catch buses and trains, while only one or two of the genuine locals had as yet made an appearance.

But Rebecca was there, sitting on the edge of one of those leather sofas they’d refurbished the place with, the typical modern décor reflecting the changing functionality; more coffee shop or restaurant these days than the traditional beer-swillers’ second home.

The sofa was angled towards the door and as I entered she looked up at me under her curls and neatly shaped eyebrows and I could see she already had a glow on. She smiled that girlish crooked teeth smile and raised her hand in a nominal gesture of welcome. The black jacket of her office trouser suit was slung over the arm of the sofa. Her pretty powder blue blouse and black trousers looking fetching.

Two of the new young recruits to Accounts sat beside her. They noticed me as they followed Rebecca’s gaze. She introduced them as Jerome and Melissa but as I joined them they both rose to leave, even refusing my offer of a round, insisting instead that they had other obligations and had to rush home. But they would be sure to see me around the office – sometime. People from the main office don’t mix much with the van loading fraternity.

Rebecca held out an empty glass saying she wouldn’t mind another double vodka tonic with lemon and ice, and when I returned from the bar the pub was even emptier. Rebecca made a show of looking around all points of the compass, her short red curls bouncing, before she declared the Sheared Sheep mutton.

‘It’s really dead here, isn’t it?

I nodded and took another swallow before concluding the guest real ale, Crafty Brown Cow IPA was something less than acceptable. It seemed fermented from liquidised mince.

‘There’s another place up off the main road that’s livelier,’ Rebecca was saying, and I’d hardly had time to sit down before she’d grabbed my hand and we were on the move.

The Hardened Artery wasn’t my usual kind of place but it was certainly busy. A three piece guitar band was playing 50s rock n roll on a tiny stage and there were even young trendy types trying to dance. I rooted around and managed to scrounge a couple of stools and we proceeded to shout at each other, exchanging inane pleasantries over a medley of Johnny B Good and Hey Bo Diddley.

‘I like your shirt,’ she shouted, making me glance down at my red and blue striped button-down Ben Sherman.

‘I like your blouse Rebecca,’ I shouted back.

‘Call me Becky,’ she insisted.

‘Ok,’ I said, ‘call me Steve.’

The band were roaring into Promised Land as Becky drew her stool much closer to mine saying she couldn’t hear, and I picked up floral notes from her eau de cologne as she pressed her legs up against mine. She waved her hand around ostentatiously like a fan in front of her face and undid the top buttons of her blouse as she complained about the heat. I felt myself definitely getting very warm too. I might not be quite God’s gift but I was sure I was picking up signals and the sap was rising. I wasn’t wearing a tie I could loosen but I took off my jacket and instead undid a few buttons of my shirt revealing the pecs and heading to the six pack.

Another few drinks in that sweaty room and the long working week was catching up with me. I was dreading the long cold bus journey home and found myself glancing down at Rebecca’s newly revealed cleavage with a certain amount of wishful thinking.

‘After a final couple of brandies we fell out into the cold dark street and, saying how late it was, Becky suggested, as even in my increasingly inebriated state I somehow thought she might, that I spend the night at her place and leave off travelling home until the morning.

After a twenty minute walk, or rather stagger, including various impromptu stops for clinches and kisses, her place turned out to be a bedsit in a big old converted house, part of a street of big old converted houses. The furnishings were Spartan. A lack of chairs meant I had to sit on the bed while she retrieved a couple of bottles of beer from an otherwise suspiciously empty cupboard. After she’d applied the bottle-opener and handed me mine she plonked herself down across my knees, draping her arm around my neck. I only had time for one more sip of beer before her lips locked on mine and we toppled backwards on to the bed.

She was wildly enthusiastic and I wasn’t complaining, but that degree of gay abandon did engender a certain sort of ‘last time before the end of the world’ feeling. It was a long time before I was allowed to sleep.

Afterwards, in the morning, I commented that of the various women I’d known she was unusual in not living amid a clutter of clothes, shoes, accessories, and a jumble of make-up jars and bottles.

She said ‘Well, to be honest, that is usually me too, but I’ve already moved almost all of my stuff to Denis’s place.’

‘Denis?’ I queried cautiously.

‘My fiancé. I’m moving in to his place after the wedding.’

For a moment I thought, hoped, I’d misheard. But Becky rambled on, unselfconscious and unconcerned. ‘The wedding’s at three o’clock tomorrow. Well, three o’clock today now, of course,’ she said peering at her little bedside alarm clock and giggling. ‘The dress – floor length, dazzling white and lacy - is laid out at my Mum’s, along with all the other stuff. The cake’s a beauty – three tiers. I’ve got to get to HairWays at eleven. Full hairdo and manicure treatment. I’m going for cherry red nail-varnish to match my lipstick. The make-up will take forever. Sorry, it’s a bit late to send you an invite. But there are still one or two things no-one’s chosen yet on our gift list – I mean, only if you really wanted to…’

‘You’re… you’re… getting married - today?’ I managed to stammer.

She stretched her arm under the bed and brought forth a little box. ‘Yes, I am,’ she said, opening the little box and putting the ring on her finger. She held her arm up in the air to watch the diamond sparkle.

‘And Denis?’

‘Oh, he plays rugby, professional now. And he’s been working nights as a doorman, mainly the Jacaranda Club, - to help pay for the wedding.’

‘Ah... he sounds like a great guy.’

‘Yes, but I’m not married to him yet, am I Steve? And you’ve got lovely blue eyes and you’re really quite firm and muscular too – it must be helping to load all those heavy boxes. You know the girls up at the office have been talking about you for a while. We like to see your hose on the forecourt. I thought, well, I might as well make use of my last legitimate opportunity. At least that’s what they all told me when we were out on my hen night last week.’

‘Oh really?’ was all I could find to say.

Maybe I looked a little disappointed or pensive because she peered into my apparently lovely blue eyes and bit her lip with her unusual teeth. ‘Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you.’ she said. ‘Steve, you don’t feel I’ve just been using you, do you?’ She burst into a big smile. ‘I mean, it was good fun, wasn’t it?’

‘Well, yes,’ I had to admit. ‘Really, it was great. And no, I suppose… I mean, I was as keen as you were… It’s just…’

‘Oh, well that’s all right then, isn’t it?’ Her eyes shone brightly. ‘And it’s only nine o’clock. I won’t be Mrs Denis McGlone for another six hours. We’ve still got at least another hour before I have to be going.’

And as she fell into my arms I tried hard to clear all the frightening images of giant prop forwards and burly bouncers from my mind.

#Reekie Revelator #edinburgh #wedding #humour #humor #short story

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peaky-yamyam · 7 years

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Long Way Home - Part 3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tommy hangs around for a short while once we reach the house to make sure I'm settled. He starts a fire, happy to demonstrate once I explain the reason I have no idea how to operate the damn thing is because it was too warm in the states to need a fire, not because the only heating I've ever known was controlled by a thermostat in the hall…

“After that debacle in the bar, is it safe to assume you have no money?” Tommy asks, dusting himself down and lighting another cigarette.

I almost ask him to step outside, but catch myself just in time and turn my mind to concocting a believable lie as to why I have no money.

“I… umm… no,” I reply, desperate to fill the awkward silence. “My… case was stolen on the boat-” I catch Tommy’s eyes flit to the suitcase that's propped up by the door so I elaborate, “-my main case, the one with everything in. I know it was stupid of me to put all my money in there, but it was in a big purse and it wouldn't fit in my handbag-” I can hear myself rambling and I know the key to a good lie is to keep it simple so I stop myself and fake a sob to make it all seem a bit more real before continuing, “-I only took my eyes off it for a second… I don't have anything now but a few pairs of knickers and trinkets I could fit in that case… I'm in a strange place with absolutely nothing,” I mumble, flopping back onto the settee.

Tears start to roll down my cheeks and Tommy sits himself next to me, rubbing a careful hand across my shoulder. I wish I could claim to be such a good actress but it's the reality of the situation that's caused me genuine upset, the shocked response of earlier melting into panic and fear now.

We sit like that for a while, me quietly sobbing as Tommy feebly massages one shoulder, until he finishes his cigarette and reaches inside his jacket.

“Here,” he says, handing me a pile of paper.

“What's this?” I ask, wiping my face dry.

“It's five quid. Use it to get some food, or some drink, or drugs. Whatever it is you need to do to deal with this. I'll come and see you again in a week, but if it goes before then, or you need anything else, come find me.”

I want to protest, a nagging alarm bell ringing in my head, screaming at me that he's going to want something in return, but I can't see another way so I take the cash and offer my thanks.

“You remember how to get to the shop?”

I nod, fiddling with the fragile paper in my hands.

“Right, I'll see you in a week then,” Tommy says, making his way to the door. He stops just as he touches the handle and turns back to face me. “Oh and Kate? Welcome back.”

It takes me a while to motivate myself to move from the sofa, the crackling of the fire hypnotising as plans and ideas career around my head. After an hour, and a hysterical fit of tears, I feel comfortable in my plan and finally push myself to my feet.

The house is fully furnished, the kitchen still set up ready for visitors; it as if it's inhabitants have just popped out. In a way it's eery, wandering around the home of dead woman I've never met, yet there's also something comforting about the familiarity of my old home.

The house had always felt old fashioned, decorated with worn carpets and wallpaper, furnished with threadbare furniture, so in a way it's nice to see the place decorated as it should have been and, as I realise now walking the familiar rooms, my family has barely changed it in all the years it had been lived in.

The stairs don't creak like I remember and the banister doesn't wobble but when I walk into the room directly in front of me, the room I spent most of my childhood and teenage years locked away in, it's almost like nothing has changed. Sure the furniture is old fashioned, but everything is set out the same. I run my hands across the wooden surface of the dressing table and peer out the window onto the dark street.

Even without proper light though, I'm starkly reminded of where I am, of the ridiculousness of the situation and remember my plan.

Blend in, for now.

I try this room first, assuming that this must have been a daughter's room, but the wardrobe and dressers are empty. I have more success in my mother's old room, like the rest of the house, it seems this room has remained untouched since the woman passed.

There aren't many clothes in there; a few hats, a couple of everyday outfits, a slightly more extravagant dress and what I assume was an outfit for church, make up the entirety of the wardrobe. I settle on a high necked white blouse and stiff dark blue skirt, finished with what was probably Mrs Fowler's best hat. Luckily we appear to be of a similar size and her clothes fit remarkably well. I repin my hair, folding the lengths up to mimic the shorter style I saw the women wearing earlier. I manage to find a pair of shoes that fit and a small bag that goes with the ensemble, and when I put everything on together I actually don't look half bad - a little old fashioned even for the time, but put together nonetheless.

I transfer all my things into a more fitting suitcase, pack my handbag and prepare everything for a trip back to the train station tomorrow morning.

“Ey up, it's Miss Sleepyhead again. Small Heath that bad ey?”

The chirpy voice snaps me from my consuming thoughts and when I look up, I see it's the same conductor from yesterday.

“I...umm, no Small Heath is fine, just got stuff to do.”

He holds his hand out and gestures for the ticket I'm fiddling with.

“Back to Worcester? Single?”

“Yep.”

“You ay comin’ back then?”

I don't answer.

“Hat looks good by the way. Suits you, the whole Edwardian high neck thing,” he adds, clipping my ticket and gesturing to the train.

“Thanks,” I mumble, snatching my ticket back and walking past him, pausing just before I board. “Is this the same train as yesterday, like the exact same one?”

“The one and only,” he replies, and with that I hop up the step and find the same spot I sat in yesterday.

The journey seems longer without music and I spend the entire time fiddling nervously with skin around my nails and trying to drown out the drabble of voices around me.

We arrive in Worcester exactly on schedule, meaning I boarded the same train going the same route as yesterday, only when I step back onto the platform it's different, older, and when I glance at the large clock above me, the date is clear next to it; 20th September 1919.

I sigh and turn on the spot, heading straight back to the train.

“Back already?” the conductor asks.

“Yes. Any chance you can let me ride back to Birmingham on a single fare?”

I must look pathetic because he glances quickly around and nods, moving out the way so I can board.

“Sumet ay gone to plan?” he asks, following me back to my seat.

“You could say that… I just, I want to go home.”

“Well, we’ll be settin’ off in a bit. Just relax Miss.”

I smile and nod, but I’m glad when he wanders down the cabin and leaves me on my own again. I rest my head against the window and allow a few quiet tears to escape as I wait for the train to depart.

There must be something about this train, because before I know it I’m being awoken by the conductor as we pull into Moor Street Station, only this time it’s not a gentle shake and a polite “Miss” but a sharp prod to my shoulder. “Oi, Sleepin’ Beauty. Off the train,” he orders.

I groan at the sight of him, still dressed in his 1920’s garb and as I glance out the windows and notice the lack of high rise buildings I drop my head back against the window, hard.

“Woah! I’ll ‘av you for criminal damage if you ay careful,” he jokes, handing me my bag from the seat next to me.

“What’s your name?” I ask, flicking my eyes to him without moving my head.

“Rob.”

“Right, well Rob? Fuck off,” I say, grabbing my bag from him and storming down the aisle, but when I reach the door I pause. I know this whole situation isn’t his fault, in fact, he’s done nothing but help me out.

“Rob,” I call, “thanks for today, with the ticket. And waking me up...again.”

“See you around,” he replies with a smile, waving as I exit the train.

But I doubt if he realises just how much he’ll be seeing me over the next few days.

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic

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i-may-have-a-point · 7 years

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Review of 13x23 “True Colors”

I have not said this since 13x16, but this was a great episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Was it perfect? No. But it did show us that the show we have loved for so long is still capable of bringing it. I have a feeling this is going to be a long review, so grab a seat, and let me know what you think.

The episode opens with Meredith talking about those moments in life when everything seems to be going well. She says it’s as if the stars align. And we’ve all been there right? Literally, everything is perfect…so we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And in this episode, the shoe crushes them.

It’s interesting that the last episode I loved was directed by Kevin McKidd because this one was, too. He is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors for the show. I thought the scene where the Army soldiers show up at his door to tell him about Megan was so well done. I know it was frustrating to not hear exactly what they said to him, but it is also realistic. In life, there are often life-altering moments that we don’t see coming, and it is as if we are not fully experiencing them. Our body is there, but our mind goes someplace else. For Owen, he is thrown back into his experiences overseas, finding out Megan’s plane crashed, and the guilt of being the one to tell her to get on the plane. He hears what they are saying, but he isn’t processing it correctly because of his PTSD. This is such a likely reaction from someone who has been through what he has, and Kevin impressed me with his delivery of it.

Stephanie returns to the hospital. Webber signs off on her returning, probably so he can feel guilty later, and she jumps back in to work. I am still trying to figure out the point of her suspension if they weren’t actually going to go anywhere with her supposed anger issues. I guess in a roundabout way it led to her being on the rapist’s case because Eliza wouldn’t let her do Neuro, but other than that…

Alex is in L.A. imagining multiple scenarios of pummeling Jo’s husband. I have to say, as much as I don’t want Alex in jail, a part of me was sad that he didn’t really leave him bloody on the sidewalk. And this is a good sign for Jolex, even if Jo wasn’t even in the episode. The fact that Alex envisions different ways of hurting the man who hurt her shows how much he still loves her.

Then we meet our patients. April and Bailey are with Allison, and Deluca and Stephanie have Keith. It looks like they were having sex in their car and one of them accidently hit the gas pedal, which causes lots of sex talk amongst the doctors throughout the episode. They never pass up a reason to talk about sex at Grey-Sloan.

Cut to Owen on the elevator. He is still very much in his own head. The muffled audio and focus on the sound of Owen’s breathing instead was an effective way to show that he is not registering his surroundings. All he hears are his own thoughts. The baby who choked on the coin comes in, completely blue. Owen’s survival instincts are still there. He may be rough and insensitive, but he saves her.

Back to Allison. April, Bailey, and Maggie are working on her. Maggie says, “I hope the sex was good.” April replies, “Is sex in a car ever that good with all those windows?” And the Japril fandom freaked. Guys, I get it. It’s been eight weeks. But this was not a dig at the 11x16 Japril scenes. This was a genuine April Kepner reaction. April, who was a virgin until she was almost thirty and has had sex with one man in her entire life, is definitely not an exhibitionist. And I’m gonna get a little TMI here, but she’s right. The backseat of a car is not roomy, seat belts end up in places they shouldn’t be, and then there is the paranoia that someone could see you. I’m with April. Car sex may be fun and hot at times, but there are many other places it could be better.

Allison wakes up asking if the guy she was with is alive, and at this point, the entire audience knew something was up, but of course, our Grey-Sloan doctors do not.

Jackson, Stephanie, Meredith, and Deluca are with Keith. Eliza is there to complain about something, as usual, and Stephanie gets stuck with babysitting duty.

We have our first hint that Erin, the little girl who keeps wandering away, is going to have more of a story when Mer finds her digging through drawers in the hallway that they apparently don’t keep locked but are full of loaded syringes of epinephrine. Totally believable.

Arizona and Amelia give the choking baby a clean bill of health and Amelia gets her first hint that something is up with Owen when the parents ask to see him because he “pounded” on her. Amelia finds him. He snaps at her, but she doesn’t push him for more yet.

Jackson and Stephanie are conveniently in the room with Keith when he wakes up. Props to Jesse Williams for pulling that tube dripping in saliva out of his mouth with no gloves. When I saw the spit drop, I gagged a little. Keith seems like a sweet, concerned boyfriend. Poor Keith, right?

Mer and Riggs find Erin in the radiology department messing with equipment. Mer’s comments, “I know this girl. She’s trouble,” and “Some people just need a nanny,” seem off to me considering she went off on a guy for mom shaming a woman in the plane episode who was just trying to do her best in the situation. This feels like a similar situation and she has a completely different reaction. Now, obviously this was just a moment they threw in there so Mer could see how great Riggs is with kids, but they still need to write her character consistently. They return Erin to her dad and Mer invites Riggs to dinner with her kids. If I’m being honest, I’m still not completely sold on their chemistry. I personally think Riggs and Maggie could have been interesting, but this is Grey’s Anatomy, so Grey gets the guy.

Then we get the scene by the OR board with Maggie, Deluca, Arizona, Stephanie, Jackson, and Eliza discussing Allison and Keith and sex. There is a lot being said in this scene and the dialogue moves fast, so I had to watch it a couple times to see and hear everything. Arizona says, “Car sex is only for when it’s new.” Jackson adds, “Or it could be cheating.” And again, the Japril fandom flipped out. Ya’ll. Again, this is not about 11x16. Honestly, that comment is about Jackson and Stephanie having sex in the car after Bailey’s wedding if anything. Stephanie picks up on it, too, I think, which is why she gives him a look and smacks his arm. Jackson and April were not technically together when he had sex with Stephanie, but he felt so bad about it, he went to tell April because he didn’t want her to hear it from someone else. Sounds like it felt like cheating to him. There is more talk of how uncomfortable car sex is and then they transition to how sweet it is that Keith and Alison asked about each other. They discuss whether it was love or not and Jackson says, “This isn’t love we are talking about here. This was emergency sex, and they were just too damn horny to remember the parking break.” Cue freak out number three. Again, I think he is actually talking about this specific situation. The camera didn’t linger on his face to show him deep in thought of his own situation, which Grey’s often does when lines have a deeper meaning. But if I force myself to read into this and relate it to Japril, I just think it means they are confused about what Montana meant. Jackson and April have been talking about sex a lot in the episodes since Montana, so my guess it they are either having it or they want to be. I didn’t get any negative Japril vibes from any of their comments about sex in this episode.

Mer and Amelia. I really wish they would have let Mer listen to Amelia in this scene. If they are sisters, they should listen to each other, but Amelia is often told her problems are a result of her overreacting while Mer’s problems are real and should be dealt with. I wanted this scene to go differently for once.

Amelia sees Owen freak out on the baby’s parents and realizes he is not okay. These two have had some great scenes lately, and this episode is full of more good stuff with them. We find out Megan is alive. I really think that this is setting up a season 14 story. Megan showing up is something we all saw coming since season 12 (just like Jo’s husband returning), and it will create drama for at least Owen, Amelia, Mer, and Riggs. I am interested to see how things play out with Riggs and Mer because Riggs loved Megan at one point. It is all a bit too similar to Derek and Addison, but as long as it doesn’t take them 27 episodes to do anything with it, it could be good.

Brooke Stadler, huh? How does Alex know all of this? Did Jo tell him? I think he said he hired a private investigator, but he would have had to have a name to investigate in the first place. Whatever. I’ll let it go because the story is moving right now. We all know it could be worse.

They remembered Teddy Altman! Another small detail that made this episode really good.

The Jackson and Maggie elevator scene. Guys, go back and rewatch this scene. Maggie is 100% talking about her views on Mer and Riggs. This is her reacting to the small scene at the beginning where she watches Mer and Riggs switch badges because they have each other’s. She is sitting behind the nurses’ desk and the camera shows her briefly. She is clearly still hurting. She says, “Maybe they are in love or maybe they were just horny. It doesn’t matter. We all love, we all get horny, and we all get hurt. And then we come through to the other side. And we get to help them do that. We get to help them find love again…or screw again. Either way. But I think they’re in love. I choose love.” That entire ramble was her inner debate over whether Mer and Riggs are in love or just screwing. That is why she uses we to describe it. She is a part of what she is talking about. She is the one who got hurt that she mentions. But she is choosing to believe that Mer and Riggs love each other because that makes it hurt less. This is not her hinting about sex or love with Jackson. And he is just letting her talk. He evens says he has no idea what she is talking about. And he barely looks at her when they have scenes together. They have been in scenes often since 13x12/13x13, whenever her mom showed up. There have been zero looks, zero lingering touches, zero moments of slow music playing in the background. We miss Japril so much that people are reading into these scenes. Stop doing that!

Then, Allison shatters all their illusions that she was having some lust filled car sex by telling Bailey, Maggie, and Jackson that Keith kidnapped her and tried to rape her. They call security and Jackson realizes that Stephanie is with him. I know not everyone liked this, but I, for one, appreciate his concern. She is his friend, and she is with a dangerous man. I would be surprised if he wasn’t concerned. I also want to add that the guy playing creepy Keith is a great actor. He was believable as both the concerned boyfriend and the psychotic killer. Great casting.

Alex lets Paul go without saying anything. Just like Megan being transferred to Grey-Sloan, this is a set up for next season’s drama. These are those seeds that Debbie was talking about.

When Keith stood up and held that scalpel to Steph’s neck, I really wanted her to punch him in the liver. She’s a badass. I wanted to see her take him down.

Owen sleeping on Amelia’s lap was the sweetest thing. We need more loving moments between our main couples. This episode had no fighting couples or relationship drama, and it was one of the best of the season. I hope someone who matters is paying attention to that.

For Japril lovers, watch the scene where Bailey is giving instructions to the security team and calling for a code orange again. They deliberately show April is in the room with Allison, then Jackson comes in and announces Keith and Stephanie are missing. The camera pulls away, but if you watch Jackson, his eyes are in that room on April. It’s a small moment, but it’s there.

Jerrika Hinton was fantastic in all the scenes with Keith. The scenes on the stairs and in the hallway they were trapped in had me on the edge of my seat not breathing. And then Erin appeared. “Hi.” Creepy Keith asked her name, and I started freaking out. Where has this fantastic storytelling been all season?!

Mer took learning that Rigg’s fiancé is alive better than I would have. But she makes a good point. If it were Derek, she would want to know immediately. As much as I am not into Griggs, if they do this story right in season 14, it could be really compelling.

Jackson and Maggie sit on the gurney and talk about Stephanie. Jackson is stressing. I get the question of why isn’t he worried about April and Harriet. But, come on, he specifically knows Stephanie was with him because he left her there. He feels responsible. This doesn’t take away from the fact that he cares about April and Harriet and wants them to be safe, but this story is about Stephanie right now. And as much as my Japril heart wants him to go check on his girls, I just pointed out that he saw April. He knows she is okay right now. They showed April in that room for a reason, so we knew Jackson saw her. They didn’t make a big thing of it, but it happened. And again, nothing about this conversation between the two of them is anything to freak out about.

As hard as the scene where Keith tries to start the fire is to watch, I have to say I am so damn proud of Stephanie. It’s violent, and it’s ugly, but how badass is it that she literally set a rapist on fire? Unfortunately, he didn’t burn fast enough to take the crazy out of him. His last act alive is to purposefully set off an explosion, and Stephanie selflessly tries to stop him. Now this may be a spoiler, and I apologize if it is, but we know from the BTS pic that Sarah Drew posted that April, Jackson, Ben, Bailey, and Webber more than likely operate on Stephanie in the finale, so she is probably not dead at this point. I say at this point because I think she does die in the finale.

I know this is a long post, and if you have made it this far, thank you for sticking in there. I do have one more thing I want to talk about, though, and that is Japril. Or rather Jackson, April, and Stephanie. I know that so many of us are waiting for the finale to come through for Japril to decide if we stick around for season 14. I’m with you all on that, but I want to throw something out there I have been thinking about. Maybe I’m overanalyzing or maybe not, but here goes.

I think that in life, and in fiction, people meet for a reason. Sometimes it’s a good reason. We find friends, lovers, mentors, or just a helping hand or needed smile. Sometimes we meet people for reasons that aren’t always good. These are the people who teach us the hardest lessons. They hurt us, they leave us, they damage us, but we come out stronger in the end. I think that Stephanie was a part of Jackson and April’s life for a reason. Maybe the show didn’t get this deep with their connection, but I can’t help but wonder. Stephanie joined the show in season nine. Correct me if I am wrong, but the first scene that April and Stephanie interact in is the scene where April sets Jackson and Stephanie up for Bailey’s wedding. This is obviously a significant moment between the three of them although none of them knew how significant at the time. This moment leads to the car sex that Jackson calls cheating in this episode, and of course, that moment where April tells Jackson that all she can think about is kissing him. April unintentionally hurt herself by setting them up, but she acts like an adult and doesn’t treat Edwards badly. We see this in the scene where she teaches her to run the pit. It’s the same episode where Jackson and Stephanie are trying to have sex, but she mentions April’s name and he can’t go through with it. “Kepner’s running me ragged.” Instead of going with his feelings, Jackson dates (ignores?) Stephanie and April gets engaged to Matthew. Stephanie being in their lives at this point helps Jackson learn a hard lesson. He realizes while working on his first big throat patient that he loves and wants to be with April. He stands up at April’s wedding (Thank God), but Stephanie gets hurt in the process. The dynamic between the three of them has always been this cycle of hurting and learning from each other. Stephanie seems to get over the hurt of Jackson leaving her, and we don’t see much interaction between the three of them until we get that awkward scene where Stephanie does the ultrasound and ultimately discovers Samuel’s OI. I think it was completely intentional on the show’s part that Stephanie was the one to find this. She tells Jo that she wished horrible things for them, although she would have never wished for this. This is another time when they are in each other’s lives at a significant point and one of them hurts the other. It’s not intentional, but it happens. They hurt, they learn from it, and they move forward. After this point, things are not good with Japril. April goes to Jordon, Jackson is hurt by her, and she returns to an uncertain situation. In 12x05, Jackson uses Stephanie to hurt April. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Her flirts with her just enough to get a side eye from April and from the audience. The cycle continues. For a bit, it seemed as if the purpose for Stephanie being in Jackson and April’s lives had been fulfilled. April and Stephanie even seemed almost friends. They work well together, Steph helps her with Tinder, and they banter in the on-call room when April is sleep deprived. It seems as if they are all done hurting each other. Until now. So here is where most of this is just my theory or speculation. There is a reason that Jackson is the one who left Stephanie with Keith. This is another way one of them has hurt the other, but this way ends up being physical. And I think that Stephanie being hurt and Jackson feeling guilty over it will be the last lesson he learns from Stephanie being in his life. I think that Jackson and April are on the team that works on her in the next episode, but they aren’t able to save her. Stephanie dying would be incredibly significant for Jackson since he feels responsible, and may prompt him to finally tell April how he feels. This is the last lesson. I think that Stephanie had a significant role in pulling them apart in season nine, and she will have a significant role in putting them back together now. As usual, I could be wrong. This could all be coincidence and the writers may not have put this much thought into this dynamic. Either way, we find out for sure in one week. Try to hang in there Japril fans. There is no excuse for the poor writing and continuity, but from the BTS pics and videos that Jesse, Sarah and Debbie posted, it looks like we will finally see them interact at least. And if they let us down, then, don’t worry, I will have plenty to say about that.

#grey's anatomy #japril #jolex #omelia #13x23

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