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onmykneesforhotdilfs · 3 years

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Oooh i'm gonna with #3 please! And Valtor as a bartender.

He truly loathed his job.

The disgusting smell of cheap drinks spilled on the bar mixed with the stench of sweat and cheap perfume, from grinding bodies on the dancefloor and humping barely-legals in the corner, made him nauseous. The music was loud to the point his heartbeat developed arrhythmia whenever a bass boosted song played through the obnoxious sound system. To make matters worse, one of the speakers was set directly above the bar and Valtor was sick of buying earplugs every week, because if he didn’t use any protection, he’s pretty sure he would go deaf before he hit 40 and he once again cursed himself for forgetting them at home.

A particularly high note came on, and the crowd cheered while Valtor cringed as he felt the microscopic hairs in his ears, sensitive to high notes, shrivel up and die. He rolled his eyes as he spotted a tall blonde dragging taller brunette towards the restroom. Apparently, couples basically dry humping each other on the dancefloor and sucking their faces off in the corners wasn’t enough, so universe also decided to throw in a couple about to commit an indecent act in a public bathroom?

He was just about to call one of the bouncers when it hit him – he doesn’t care. Oh well. What can you do?

A woman, wearing something Valtor could only describe as lingerie, came to the bar and ordered a fruity cocktail and for the umpteenth time, he wondered how his life turned into this? How did he go from graduating on a prestigious college, having a stable job and a fiancée, to wiping down spit from the counter top on a Saturday night.

He used to be a successful attorney, his yearly salary reaching up to five-zero figure, a stable relationships, loving girlfriend and more, and yet, all of that collapsed under the enormous weight couple of words held.

His hands worked on autopilot, mixing the necessary drinks while his thoughts were miles away.

Now, whatever’s left of his past life lives in a small condo across the town and Valtor chuckled at the irony of life giving him lemons while he chopped one to mix it into the cocktail. He squeezed the juice out of the poor fruit, with probably more force than was necessary, getting some of it on his shirt in the process.

“What are you chuckling about?” The woman was leaning over the counter, her chest basically spilling out of her dress as she played with the ends of her dark hair.

Valtor raised an eyebrow as he bent down to retrieve one of the decorative umbrellas. “Nothing that would be of interest to you.” He saw her flinch in surprise at the rather sharp tone he unintentionally used. “Miss.” He added as an afterthought, hoping it would make him look less abrasive. Unhappy customers don’t tip well after all.

“Oh. Well maybe it does interest me. You’ll never know unless you try.” The woman smiled flirtatiously while her fingers continued twirling the strands of her hair. “I’m Mitzi, by the way.” She offered her hand to him.

Valtor only quirked an unamused eyebrow. “I don’t remember asking for your name.” The smile was quick to disappear from her face and she snatched her hand back like it’s been burned.

He closed his eyes as his tongue, once again, proved to be faster than his brain. It’s what got him into trouble a lot of times and this one might’ve just taken a cake because if the girl went to complain to his boss, he’d be in a world of shit. “I was trying to be nice, but it seems to me you’re too much of an asshole to appreciate it.” Mitzi gritted out with obvious false confidence because a fierce blush was very much present on her face. This obviously didn’t happen to her a lot.

First time for everything, Valtor thought.

“What I would really appreciate, Mitzi,” Don’t do it, “is if you could stop your 36C's, that you stuffed into a 34B bra, from spilling all over my counter.” You absolute moron! “I have to wipe it.”

Now you’ve done it.

Mitzi turned even reader, and Valtor wondered if he should start dialing an ambulance just in case, but she only snatched the drink he placed in front of her and threw a 5$ bill in his face. “Jerk!” And just like that, she was gone.

“Have a nice evening!” Drop dead.

He rolled his eyes and took a glass that needed wiping just to occupy his hands for a minute because he felt like a coiled string, just about to snap and burn everything in its path.

“I have to say,” girl’s voice reached him, “you just fixed my evening.” Valtor lowered the glass to the solid surface and turned to face the owner.

His brain short circuited.

Though her body was mostly obstructed by the counter, he could see that the navy blue slip dress she wore draped beautifully across her slender figure. She was also incredibly short that even standing up straight, in what Valtor assumed were ridiculously high heels, she was at least head and a half shorten than him. But the most obvious, and striking thing about her, was her red hair. Valtor never even thought that hair could be as vibrant as hers.

In his almost 35 years of life, Valtor has never seen someone as interesting as the girl standing in front of him.

When he finally shook himself out of his stupor, and when it became painfully obvious he was making her uncomfortable with his gawking (really, there was no other word for it), he smiled and spoke. “Well, I’m pleased to hear that because it will undoubtedly ruin my life.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her reporting you.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Her ego is too big for her to accept she just got rejected.”

“You know her?”

There was something nostalgic in her smile. “I used to know her… or maybe I just thought I know her.”

Valtor observed the unusual girl in front of him. In his several years as a bartender and even before, he developed quite a knack for reading people. She seemed, to him at least, like one of those lost souls that recently had their world turned upside down but tried despite to appear normal. You and me both. “Would you like something to drink?”

Her head snapped up and her electric blue eyes met his. “Oh! Yes, um,” she fidgeted slightly, her hands wringing together and picking at her nails, “anything with vodka.”

He nodded and turned his back on her to find a bottle of the best vodka the club had to offer. He didn’t know why he suddenly paid so much attention to what he’s mixing into drinks but something pulled him towards this girl like gravity and he was too weak to resist it. “Straight?” He asked without turning around.

“Ummm, that’s a bit personal don’t you think? I mean, I just met you.” Valtor stopped what he was doing and turned his head so she could see the confused frown on his face. “I don’t even know your name. As far as I know you could be a serial killer.”

It downed on Valtor what she was talking about and he chuckled at her adorable rant. “I meant the Vodka.”

Her lips shaped into a silent “O" and he saw how her neck and face turned red from embarrassed. She moaned and buried her face into her hands. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He picked the bottle and turned back around so he was facing her. He extended his unoccupied hand across the counter top. “I’m Valtor.”

She shook his hand, her hand incredibly small in his huge one, blush still present on her cheeks. “Bloom. And yes, straight vodka is fine.”

“I’ve only seen Russians drink vodka by itself.”

“I’m quarter Russian. My mom’s dad is from Russia.” Valtor nodded along as he fixed her a drink.

“Impressive.”

“it’s really not. It only made me the laughing stock of the entire class.” She took the glass filled with clear liquid, their fingers brushing together on accident, and Valtor felt a spark rushing up his nerve endings. “But, I can drink most people under the table so I guess I should be grateful.”

Humor was obviously one of the things she used to deflect the pain and trauma bullying inevitably caused. “Your hair is very… unusual. Natural?”

She nodded. “Yup. This is one of the things I inherited from grandpa.”

“Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t my intention.”

“No no, don’t worry.” Her lips wrapped around the edge of the glass as she took a sip and closed her eyes to savor the feeling of burning liquid sliding down her throat. “It’s actually one of the nicest things someone has said to me about my hair.”

Valtor looked at her with a small smirk on his face. “That bad, huh?”

“You don’t want to know.” Bloom tilted the glass and took a large swing of the drink, only a small amount remaining at the bottom. “What about you?”

Valtor shrugged. “What about me?”

“You have an unusual hair too.”

Indeed. His long strawberry blond hair was tied in a ponytail, but unlike herself, he loved his hair and didn’t particularly give a damn what anybody else thought about it. “I don’t really care about somebody else’s opinion and neither should you.”

“I’ve stopped that long time ago.” Valtor nodded towards her almost empty glass and she slid it towards him for a refill. “But you know, scars remain.”

He nodded. “That I do know.” Valtor saw another guy coming up to the bar so he excused himself. As soon as he moved away from her, the unpleasant sensations that accompany prolonged presence in a loud room came rushing back like a rogue train and Valtor felt the onsets of a headache forming. He served the guy and returned to Bloom who was now nursing her drink instead of knocking it back like the first time.

“So what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She quirked one eyebrow. “A girl like me?”

“Not to be rude, but this doesn’t seem like your cup of tea.”

She laughed. “It’s my friend’s birthday. She dragged me here against my will while promising she’ll stay with me the entire time. It took me turning around for her to vanish without a trace with her boyfriend.”

“That friend of yours,” he started, “wouldn’t happen to be a tall blonde dragging a brunette with her?”

“That’s her.”

Valtor made a face. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing a lot of her tonight.” His eyes slid to the direction of the restroom.

Bloom followed his gaze and she groaned when she saw where her friend went to. “Not this again.”

“Again? This happens a lot?”

“Unfortunately, it happens more than I would like to.” She rubbed her forehead.

“Right,” he drawled, “because who doesn’t like seeing their friends going at it.” Sarcasm was dripping from his words.

“How long have they been in there?” She asked while looking at her wrist watch.

“Fifteen minutes or so.”

“Damn animals. I’m never coming to the club with her again.”

An amused chuckle escaped him. “That’s not the first time you’ve said that, am I right?”

She smiled and took a sip of vodka. “Nope.”

Just as he opened his mouth to ask her another question, her blonde friend wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Valtor’s eyebrow did a backflip. How she managed to avoid detection while leaving the bathroom was beyond him.

“Damn Bloom, I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already seducing hot bartenders!”

“Stella! First of all, I am not seducing anybody,” Maybe not intentionally, “secondly, it’s been almost twenty minutes and thirdly, what happened to your promise of not ditching me? And the moment I turn around, you’re already gone?”

Stella, if Valtor heeard correctly, giggled. “Oh live a little Bloom. Besides, it’s not like you were in a bad company.” Her eyes ran over Valtor’s form. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of that.” She ogled Valtor like a piece of chocolate cake.

“I’m standing right here.”

“Okay, that’s enough for today! We’re going home.” Bloom grabbed her purse and was about to pull out her wallet when Valtor raised his arm to stop her.

“It’s on the house.”

“But Blooooom,” There was really no words to describe the sound that exited blonde’s mouth, “we just got here.”

“The fact that you're talking about having a threesome with a stranger says enough about your state.”

“I’m pretty sure Brandon wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, time out. Let’s go.” She turned towards Valtor, a small card between her fingers. She leaned over the counter while one of her arms stayed behind, supporting her friend. “Thank you.” She slipped the card into his hand. “Call me if you wanna talk sometimes.” And with that, she spun on her heel and dragged Stella towards the exit.

Valtor stood in shock, not knowing how to react for a few minutes, staring at the business card in his hands.

Bloom Peters MD.

He shook his head, hand safely pocketing the precious cargo before he picked up the glass she’s been drinking from and turning around to wash it. The sound of retching caused him to turn around in time to see some wasted man empty the content of his stomach on an obnoxious red carpet. The stench of vomit mixed with other delightful aromas and Valtor was once again reminded how much he hated his job.

#winx club #baltor x bloom #bloom x baltor #bloom x valtor #sparxshipping #valtor x bloom #bloom #valtor #winx #sparxshipping questions #sparxshipping requests #sparxshipping prompts #sparxshipping au

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new-sandrafilter · 4 years

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Timothée Chalamet and Eileen Atkins Interview - British Vogue May 2020

“Maybe your knuckles weren’t bleeding, but there was ice,” Timothée Chalamet tells Dame Eileen Atkins. He is recounting, with no small amount of awe, how he first came to hear of the legendary 85-year-old actor with whom he is about to appear at The Old Vic. It transpires that Oscar Isaac, Chalamet’s co-star in the upcoming blockbuster Dune, was at the receiving end of Atkins’ fist in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood (all in the name of acting, of course). Chalamet was duly impressed.

“I gave him the worst time of his life,” says Atkins, bristling at the memory, before merrily launching into several candid, very dame-like stories from her time on set – “That was a nightmare movie. A nightmare.”

It is a Saturday afternoon in late February, and the two actors – one a titan of British theatre with an eight-decade career; the other, Hollywood’s most in-demand young leading man, with an insatiable Instagram following – have just finished being photographed together for Vogue. Chalamet, 24, in louche, low-slung denim and a white T-shirt, has folded his Bambi limbs into a chair next to Atkins, whose hawkish frame, in a navy jumper and jeans, belies her 85 years.

“Do you like being called Tim or Timothée or what?” Atkins asks in her warm but brisk RP, all trace of her Tottenham upbringing erased.

“Whatever works,” he replies in a bright American accent, that shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes. “Anything.”

“So you won’t object to ‘darling’? I call everyone darling. I’m told I mustn’t say it these days.” He assures her he is fine with it: “It’s a rite of passage, being called darling by Dame Eileen Atkins.”

“You always, always, have to put the dame in, otherwise you can’t address me,” she jokes.

It’s good the two are getting all this sorted now. A couple of days after our interview they will begin rehearsals for a seven-week run of Amy Herzog’s play 4000 Miles, in which they star as a grandmother and grandson, each quietly dealing with their own grief. Chalamet takes on the role of Leo Joseph-Connell, a somewhat lost 21-year-old who experiences a tragedy while on a 4,000-mile-long cycle ride with his best friend. Atkins plays Vera Joseph, his widowed 91-year-old grandmother, upon whose Manhattan doorstep Leo unexpectedly arrives in the middle of the night, unsure of where else to go. What follows is a wonderful, and wonderfully witty, study in human relationships, a portrait of two generations with decades between them trying to make sense of the world.

Its stars, who’ve met twice previously, in New York last year, are still very much getting to know each other – and are confident in the appeal. “There are things like this play – hoping I don’t butcher it – where you can just sit back and go, ‘Oh, this is a delicious meal,’” says Chalamet. Atkins agrees. “I have a phrase in mind that I shouldn’t really say because it’s going to sound terrible in print.” Which is? “I find it a dear little play, a really dear little play. I think it should be very moving. But who knows? We might f**k it up.”

It’s unlikely. Atkins has been a regular on The Old Vic’s stage since the 1960s, going toe-to-toe with greats from Laurence Olivier to Alec Guinness, and fellow dames (and close friends) Maggie Smith and Judi Dench. Chalamet, meanwhile, is a relative novice, with only two professional plays under his belt. But since his turn as Elio in 2017’s Call Me by Your Name (for which he was Oscar-nominated), his celluloid rise has been meteoric. Roles in Lady Bird, Little Women, The King and Wes Anderson’s upcoming The French Dispatch have not only earned him the slightly fraught badge of “heart-throb”, but proved him to be among the most captivating actors of his generation.

He says he couldn’t resist the opportunity to come to the capital. “There was something exciting about doing a play that feels very New York in London,” Chalamet explains of taking on the part. He’s a diehard theatre fan, too, revealing he saw the six-and-a-half-hour epic The Inheritance – twice. “There are films like The Dark Knight or Punch-Drunk Love or Parasite that can give you a special feeling. But nothing will be like seeing Death of a Salesman on Broadway with Philip Seymour Hoffman or A Raisin in the Sun with Denzel Washington.”

Herzog’s writing particularly spoke to him. “Leo’s in a stasis that was very appealing to me,” he continues. “We find our crisis in moments of stasis, but there’s an irony to it when you’re young, because the law of the land would have you think that to be young is to be having fun, to be coming into your own. But as everyone at this age who’s going through it knows, it’s often a shitshow.”

It’s safe to say that, in casting terms, director Matthew Warchus, also artistic director of The Old Vic, has hit the jackpot. He first took the play to Atkins three years ago, but it was only towards the end of 2019 that Chalamet came on board. When it was announced, in December, that Hollywood’s heir apparent to Leonardo DiCaprio would be making his London stage debut, the news was met with a level of hysteria not usually associated with the 202-year-old theatre’s crowd.

“Oh, my friends have told me who the audience is,” Atkins chimes in when I ask who they think will be coming to see the show. “It’s 40 per cent girls who want to go to bed with Timothée, it’s 40 per cent men who want to go to bed with Timothée, and it’s 20 per cent my old faithfuls.” Is Chalamet prepared for the onslaught? “I think it will be 100 per cent Eileen’s faithfuls,” he demurs.

On the surface, they can seem quite the odd couple. Chalamet, raised in Manhattan by an American dancer-turned-realtor mother and French father, an in-house editor at the United Nations, may be living a breathless, nomadic movie-star life but there’s an iron core of Gen Z earnestness there. He arrives on set with minimal fuss, even deciding to wear the clothes he came in for one shot, before knocking out some push-ups, politely ordering an omelette and generally being divinely well-mannered.

He turns on the star power for the camera, though, and I can confirm it’s as dazzling up close as it is on the red carpet, where he has, famously, casually redrawn the rules for male dressing. From that Louis Vuitton sparkly bib at the 2018 Golden Globes, to a dove-grey satin Haider Ackermann tux at Venice last year, he’s a true fashion darling. Then, of course, there’s his dating life – from Lourdes Ciccone Leon to Lily-Rose Depp – that remains an endless source of fascination to millions worldwide. (All this, it must be said, is of significantly less interest to Dame Eileen.)

Atkins started dance lessons aged three, shortly before the start of the Second World War. By 12, she was performing professionally in pantomime, not far from where she grew up in north London, the youngest daughter in a working-class family. A fast-established theatre star, wider fame didn’t find her until late in life. Despite memorable turns in Upstairs, Downstairs and Gosford Park, it was the 2000 television hits Cranford and Doc Martin, when she was in her early seventies, that finally made her a household name. Today, she lives alone in west London, since her second husband, the TV and film producer Bill Shepherd, died in 2016. She has often spoken of being happily childless, and has zero time for razzmatazz.

And yet, despite their differences, the pair appear perfectly matched. They already have their grandmother-grandson dynamic down pat. Atkins does a fine line in mischievous eyebrow-raising, and at one point recites a limerick that is, honestly, so rude it almost makes her co-star blush. Chalamet, meanwhile, is politeness personified, still trying to work out his thoughts on various subjects, less inclined to give so much of himself away. There is a physical likeness, too, in their delicate features and fine bone structure. They share a naturally melancholic look, one that melts away when they laugh.

Their upcoming play, which premiered to rapturous reviews Off-Broadway in 2011, “about a block” from Chalamet’s high school, LaGuardia, could have been written for them. “Other than not being American, I’m very like the old woman,” says Atkins of the Pulitzer-shortlisted play. “I can’t be bothered to learn the internet.” If there’s one thing she won’t tolerate in rehearsals, it’s people on their phones. That’s the only thing that will “piss me off ”, she says, brusquely.

Ah, phones. Are they really the symbol of generational disconnect? “It’s easy to point to these things,” Chalamet says, tapping his phone on the table, “as the cause or the symptom, but I think my generation is a guinea pig generation of sorts. We’re figuring out the pros and cons and limits of technology.”

Equally, Atkins is keen to distance herself from some of the criticism levelled at her age group. “There’s a saying isn’t there: if you’re not very left wing when you’re young, you’re heartless. And if you’re not very right wing when you’re old, you’re foolish. I’m not political, but I’m not with this government I can assure you – and I’m not with Brexit. I wanted to wear a sweater saying ‘I did not vote Brexit’, because it was all old people who did. Not me, not me,” she snaps. “I went on the march.”

Both are in agreement that intergenerational friendships are too rare these days. “So. Important,” Chalamet says, hitting the table between each word. “There is so much to learn from people who have walked the path of life. That’s why I’m so looking forward to these next couple of months.”

Atkins is thoughtful on the matter. “I don’t miss the fact I don’t have children, but I do envy my friends who have grandchildren,” she says. “About five or six years ago I met a couple of young people – they are just about 30 this year – and, do you know, we go out together. And people immediately say to me, ‘Are these your grandchildren?’ And I say, ‘No.’ And they say, ‘Your godchildren?’ And I say, ‘No, they’re just friends.’ Everybody thinks there is something weird about all three of us. They just don’t get it. But the boy makes me laugh more than anybody and the girl is enchanting. I have more fun with them than I do with almost anybody else.”

I remind Atkins about her description of today’s youth as being overly serious. “I do call them the New Puritans, yes,” she says, before motioning to her young co-star. “He probably drinks like a fish.”

Chalamet, currently single, is remaining tight-lipped about plans for his new London life, and how many late-night manoeuvres in Soho or Peckham it may involve. “I’ve got friends here, which is nice. But I’m here for this – to be terrified at The Old Vic.”

Before we leave, there is a final thing to clear up – Atkins’ aforementioned limerick. “Do you know about the Colin Farrell situation?” Eileen asks Timothée. No, comes his reply. “Better get it over with now because someone will tell you,” she says, proceeding to explain how, when she was “69, about to be 70” and filming Ask the Dust with a 27-year-old Farrell, “he made a pass at me. He came to my hotel room. He was enchanting. I let him chat for two hours, thoroughly enjoying it, but no not that. He was very cross I didn’t.”

But then, she explains guiltily, she later told the story during “some stupid TV show” (Loose Women), where despite her best efforts at keeping Farrell’s identity secret, the internet did its thing and news got out. An apology to Farrell was required. “So I left a limerick on Colin’s phone…” she says. She clears her throat: “There once was a **** of a dame…” she begins, in her imitable theatrical timbre, before reeling off one of the filthiest rhymes I’ve ever heard.

There is a moment of stunned laughter. “Wow, that’s sincerely amazing,” comes Chalamet’s response, as Atkins finishes the verse. He gives her a solemn oath: “I promise I won’t hit on you.”

4000 Miles is at The Old Vic, SE1, from 6 April

#timmy #timothee chalamet #4000 miles #british vogue app #Eileen Atkins #my edit

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umbry-fic · 3 years

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Road Trip!!

Summary: To drive off some post-exam stress, Lloyd, Colette, Sheena and Zelos decide to go on a road trip around the country. What could go wrong?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder, Sheena Fujibayashi Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Sheena Fujibayashi & Zelos Wilder, Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving & Sheena Fujibayashi & Zelos Wilder Rating: G Word Count: 6485 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 26/01/2021

Notes: A modern day AU set in Singapore where I send everyone on this itinerary!

Do note that the last part of this fic has been removed as it uses workskins that don't work on Tumblr. If you'd like to access the full fic, do read it on AO3!

@frayed-symphony did an amazing piece of fan-art for this fic!

~~~

“Why is this road called 99 bends if there’s only…” Zelos squinted through the car window at the trees going by, wracking his brain to recall how many turns they had done. It had definitely been less than 99, but how many had there been, exactly? “... 9 turns?”

“I don’t know, idiot. Maybe because we haven’t actually left the road yet? Be a little patient, would you? And don’t talk so loud, you’ll wake Colette up!” Sheena hissed, shooting Zelos a withering glare as she removed her elbow from the cold windowsill to give him a small slap on the arm. Seriously, would it hurt him to shut up for once?

“I don’t see how this is possibly being soft?” Zelos hissed back, covering the rapidly reddening patch of skin on his arm and inching away from his companion in the backseat. Did Sheena not see the irony in her actions? At least Colette didn't seem to have stirred in the front seat; still soundly sleeping with her head lolling to the side, a serene smile on her face. But at this rate, Sheena's less-than-quiet yelling was going to wake her up.

"It's way too early in the morning for this..." Zelos whispered forlornly. He would greatly prefer to not be awake at 7 am. He was a night owl and staying in bed till 11 was the norm for him! It also meant he could avoid Seles for the most part, since she liked leaving at the earliest of hours to go spend the day at the neighbourhood library. But that was just a plus.

It was seriously unfair that Sheena was bright-eyed and alert so early in the morning. He was going to be stuck with her in the small space of a car for the next 7 hours. He had doubts over whether he would still be alive by the end of the first - Sheena was already eyeing him as a cat would her prey. He was going to be ripped to shreds within the hour. Why had he agreed to this again?

“I think it’s just, uh… exaggerated? Is that the right word...?” Lloyd pointed out, adjusting the rearview mirror and looking at his friend’s reflection in it, hoping he had somewhat diffused the argument. Still, Sheena looked like she was about to pounce on Zelos, which was slightly worrying. Lloyd would prefer if everyone stayed in one piece. It wouldn’t be a fun road trip otherwise! And that was the only reason he’d suggested the idea of ferrying everyone around in the first place.

Everyone was stressed after exams and they deserved a chance to let out those pent up emotions. What better way than to tour the nation in a single day? It was the perfect opportunity to have fun with friends!

Lloyd hadn’t considered that murder might happen in the backseat. That might throw a wrench in the plan.

“There’s no way this road could actually have 99 bends. It would be like a really long snake if it did. It would take up too much space.” Lloyd muttered, turning the steering wheel to navigate yet another bend. The road was already difficult to drive on. Add on more turns and it would be hell for a new driver like him. He’d gotten his driver’s license in the first half of year 6 while juggling school and driver’s lessons, and he was not ready for such a difficult challenge.

These roads were already difficult enough to drive on, what with the plentitude of crazy drivers that loved to haphazardly cut lanes and sound their vehicle’s horns way too much. Stressful was the only word that could describe it.

Wait, that was the same word he’d just used to describe the school year. Did that make this whole trip redundant?

“Mm…”

Colette shifted slightly, slowly opening her eyes. The last thing she remembered was Lloyd picking her up at the void deck of her HDB. They had set off to pick up Zelos and then Sheena, but she had no memory of doing any of that. Just little flashes of watching parks and various HDBs passing by...

Her hands, feeling around blindly, grasped something soft and woolly wrapped around her. Blinking fully awake, she recognised the blanket that currently formed a snug cocoon around her.

"See, you woke her up!"

"You were the one who started yelling first! Don't blame me!"

There was the familiar backdrop of Zelos and Sheena arguing. She must have fallen asleep somewhere on the way if they were already in the car.

"You can go back to sleep if you want. This part's not very exciting. I'll wake you up if we're getting out of the car," Lloyd whispered, having heard Colette shifting in her seat despite not diverting his attention away from the road. What a responsible driver!

"It's fine. I’ve slept enough." Colette freed her arms from the blanket, letting it fall such that it only covered her lap. The a/c was switched on (as it always was in Singapore, where it was eternally summer), and you could feel it particularly strongly in the front seat. Looking out the window to figure out their whereabouts, all Colette saw was trees. As expected.

Turning her gaze back towards the blanket, she traced the familiar pattern of green dogs that dotted it. Green wasn't a colour that dogs naturally had, but it did elicit some old memories.

"Isn't this the blanket your mother knitted? She'd wrap us in it every movie night. You used to cover your eyes with it when you got scared." That memory made her giggle, just a little. Lloyd got scared at movies that weren't even supposed to be scary. He'd burrow in the blanket, then, and grab onto her arm so tightly that she'd once thought he would leave permanent marks.

"Of course you'd remember that," Lloyd grumbled, cheeks turning a pale pink at that embarrassing memory. Colette had just blurted that out in front of their other two friends as well. "Mom keeps it in the car in case anyone gets cold. You're always wearing sweaters, so I draped it on you while we were at Zelos' place."

"Thank you."

"Ahem." The sound of Zelos clearing his throat echoed through the car. Colette craned her head to see both Zelos and Sheena resolutely not looking at the two of them. "Sorry to be the third wheel, but can I know where we're going next? You didn't bother sending us the itinerary, Lloyd."

"If you're a third wheel, then what am I? The fourth wheel? That's even worse!" Sheena groaned, resting her forehead against the cold window. If things were going to be like this for the whole trip, maybe she should just open the door and fling herself out of the car before it got too unbearable. Alas, the doors were locked.

"An incorporeal banshee," Zelos muttered, which earned him another smack from an irate Sheena.

"I have no idea why you two are going on about wheels. This is a perfectly fine vehicle with four perfectly functional wheels!"

Zelos groaned, dragging his hands down his face. He'd unknowingly agreed to a torture session, hadn't he? Why had he thought this was a good idea?

Well, he was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, so he might as well continue working on the plan. It was the one thing he knew Sheena would willingly work with him on, so it was the perfect solution to prevent his death. Zelos would rather not have to dig his grave today.

"Yeah!" Colette chirped in, eager to defend Lloyd. "Besides, Lloyd did send the itinerary to the group chat! You two just buried it under your argument about cheese!"

“Cheese…?” Zelos echoed. He had zero memory of this ever happening.

“Oh god, I remember this. It’s another one of those midnight conversations that I wish never happened.” Sheena leaned back, letting her head fall over the back of her seat so she was peering into the trunk of the car. Huh. There were some weird things in the trunk.

Oh, Zelos thought. One of those inane conversations fuelled by a blend of coffee, tiredness and the spirit of craziness.

“I mentioned mozzarella and you started arguing blue cheese was better! Not all of us can afford that, you know!”

“Stop yelling at me! I am not responsible for your inferior taste in cheese!”

Colette giggled, turning back to face the road. Zelos and Sheena were as energetic as always. This looked like a fun road trip already!

~~~

“And you said you did your research?” Zelos asked, raising one eyebrow as he pointed at the sign next to the securely closed gate.

“Closed on… Tuesdays…” Colette read out slowly, realisation slowly dawning on her as to why they were currently stalling at the end of a one-way road. “Oh no, Lloyd, it’s Tuesday!”

Lloyd put the car in reverse, praying that no one would drive into this road at this inopportune moment. Then again, the road had been empty and silent for a reason. Everyone had known the goat farm was closed. Everyone except, well, them.

“The article didn’t say anything!” Lloyd grumbled. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe through the power of Google? Don't you remember the importance of primary research?" Zelos drawled, only to get slapped by Sheena again.

"That's not what primary research means, dumbass."

"I think the main problem is how we're supposed to get out of here…? I'm sure we're all hungry," Colette pointed out. They had already gone to a few other places and taken some cool photos! It had been a fun time all around, but it was time for lunch and the goat farm was meant to be the lunch spot. She had rather fond memories of coming here with Lloyd on a primary school learning journey - they had fed the goats and eaten some delicious food. It was a shame that it was closed today.

"The first step would be getting out of this road." Lloyd scanned their surroundings with a nervous eye. This was a dead-end, so there was no way to drive back to the main road without turning around. And the road was scarily narrow...

"Lloyd, I can take over from here," Zelos said, unbuckling his seat belt and bending over the front seat to tap Lloyd on the shoulder. Ignoring, of course, Sheena's violent protests at how dangerous this was. "You need to do a three-point turn. And no offence, but I don't trust a newbie to do one without scratching the car or ending up on the side of the road. Especially on such a narrow road."

Lloyd paled, remembering the promise (it had been worded more like a threat, really) that his father had made him before agreeing to let him use the car. Not a single scratch on it or Lloyd would never see the light of day again.

After a quick switch in seats, Zelos manoeuvred the car out of its perilous position with ease and they were on their way again.

"You make it look so easy," Lloyd mumbled, slightly jealous. Zelos was driving with confidence that he would like to emulate. Not that it was surprising. Zelos had been driving for the past two years.

"He's only so good at it because he's old. That's the only reason he has years of experience over you," Sheena snickered. She wouldn't give up any opportunity to make fun of her oldest friend.

"Who're you calling old? You're only one year younger than me!" Zelos grumbled.

"You're still the oldest," Colette pointed out. "You're older than me and Lloyd by... 2 years, right?"

"I get it! I'm old! This is the cruel fate I suffered for not being born here!" Zelos said mournfully. Really, he would rather have not lost two years of his life to being held back in the school system.

“It’s kinda sad that we’re at the same point as you two despite being older, huh?" Sheena muttered. "At least you won't need to lose another two years to National Service, Zelos. Thank your lucky stars for that."

“Don’t mention that. Not now.” Lloyd desperately tried to push all thoughts of National Service out of his head. Nope. This was meant to be a fun trip! No depressing thoughts! No! “Do you want me to switch back, Zelos?”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Zelos called back, turning back out onto the main road to begin the game of weaving between lanes like a madman. “You’ve been driving all morning. Anyone mind if I take us to Sembawang food centre for lunch? It’s pretty close if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Oh! I want carrot cake!” Colette cheered, mind already drifting to the delectable cubes of radish. It was one of her favourite foods...

“Black or white, though?” Sheena pondered. The black one had a tad too much sweet sauce for her taste, but she was mostly neutral. Maybe she'd get something else entirely. Fishball noodles, perhaps...?

“Black, obviously. How could you ever think white was the superior choice?” Lloyd replied, horrified.

“No objections, then,” Zelos said cheerily, flicking on the signal and moving the car onto the turning lane. Sheena, meanwhile, set the route on her phone without any prompting from Zelos. “Sembawang food centre it is! But Lloyd, am I allowed to floor the gas on the expressway?”

“NO!”

~~~

“Mmmmm.” Colette stirred her glass of ice milo with a straw before sipping from it contentedly, resting her chin on her hand. A plate, emptied of carrot cake, sat next to her elbow on the table. “This is bliss…”

“Nothing beats ice milo,” Lloyd agreed, shovelling the remainder of his plate of black carrot cake into his mouth. The chewiness of the radish cubes, the sweetness of the sauce, combined with the cold, sweet taste of milo… It all added up to perfection.

“Cretins,” Sheena muttered distastefully. "Ice milo is not the peak of drinks."

“No need to act so smug just because you drink brown rice green tea every day, Sheena. I know you drink packet milo at home," Zelos rebutted, nursing his cup of black coffee. He was glad that there was something to raise his energy levels. Colette and Lloyd could wake anyone up in their boundless energy, but even they could not overcome - well, a night staying up surfing social media and not sleeping.

“Shush, you!”

Colette giggled, staring at her two friends argue with each other. She knew it wasn’t anything malicious, but simply how they showed their friendship towards each other. They had been like this for as long as she’d known them, which had been… “I can’t believe we’ve been friends for six years already!”

Sheena paused in her act of strangling Zelos, sitting down to consider Colette’s statement. Zelos hung his head, sighing in relief. Another attempt at his life that he had avoided.

“Has it really been that long since you crashed into Zelos at the school canteen?” Sheena asked, resting her elbows on the table and leaning across, grinning. She hadn’t relived that memory in a long time, and she excelled in any opportunity to embarrass him. “Don’t you remember, Zelos? Colette -”

“She crashed into me at rush hour in the school canteen while I was holding a tray full of food,” Zelos replied in a deadpan tone. He loved Colette as a friend, but that was a disastrous memory -

“Ha! I remember. Zelos had seaweed soup down his front for the rest of the day,” Lloyd snickered. He didn’t often think back to so long ago, but this was a perfect opportunity to reminisce! “He smelled like teriyaki chicken in class for the whole day. Our teacher was staring at him the whole time.”

“Please stop,” Zelos mumbled pitifully, burying his face in his arms. “I have done my very best to bury that memory forever. And that was your lunch, Sheena! You held partial blame!”

“Yeah, no,” Sheena retorted cheerily. “You required a little humbling then, anyway, Mr High and Mighty.”

“I hate you,” Zelos replied gloomily. “Why am I still friends with you?”

“We PRs need to stick together.” Sheena punched Zelos in the arm in the same playfully gentle way she always did. “And I, uh…” She turned away, muttering something under her breath.

Colette looked on in curiosity, observing the bright pink spots that were beginning to form on Sheena’s cheeks. Zelos smirked, raising his head to antagonise Sheena again. “What was that you were saying? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yeah, Sheena. I couldn’t hear you either,” Lloyd interjected, busy trying to scoop ice cubes out of his glass with his straw and failing horribly. “Could you repeat that?”

“I said I value your company, alright?” Sheena snapped, refusing to make eye contact with Zelos. Why had she brought this upon herself? “There, did you catch it this time?”

“Noted,” Zelos said smugly. One point for him, finally!

“I really am sorry for the time I crashed into you. I do that way too much,” Colette said guiltily, fiddling with her utensils. It was true, though. The number of times she had crashed into people just this week was more than she could count with her fingers. The amount of inconvenience she had caused was staggering.

“Hey, it’s fine! Don’t put yourself down. Besides, if it wasn’t for that, we would never have met!” Lloyd retorted, waving a fork threateningly in her direction.

“Ah, right. I forgot that you two have known each other for basically forever,” Sheena said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Somehow, Lloyd and Colette still didn’t pick up on it. “You two have been childhood friends for, what, 14 years?”

“More or less!” Colette replied. The math checked out. At least she was pretty sure that was right? They met when they were 5 or 6… And they were 19, now…?

“We met when Colette crashed into me at the playground and nearly knocked me off the climbing towers,” Lloyd said absentmindedly, returning to his quest to retrieve an ice cube. "I remember that we were pretty high up, so it was kinda scary."

“That’s why I’m banned from the monkey bars for life…” Colette said sheepishly.

“That’s… interesting.” Zelos stared with wide eyes, speechless for once in his life. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard this story. It was certainly an unorthodox way to meet your childhood friend, by nearly causing bodily harm.

Now if the two of them would realise what was so incredibly obvious, maybe he could stop having actual headaches over plotting harebrained schemes.

But that... was way too much to hope for.

~~~

Lloyd watched with a tiny smile as Colette’s head perked up the moment the next song on the radio begun to play. He’d switched the radio over to this particular station earlier that morning, knowing that Colette loved it.

Colette hummed under her breath, swaying to the music. She loved Chinese songs, especially listening to them on the radio. They were perfect to close your eyes and relax to.

They also brought back some of her earliest and most cherished memories.

Sitting in the backseat of this same car back when she had still been the same height as Lloyd, head resting on his shoulder, listening to the radio and the sound of Lloyd’s father humming along while she was still half-asleep. They had stayed in the same HDB and experienced all the advantages: being able to visit each other whenever they wanted, going to the same primary school, and commuting to school together. They had spent almost every second together. Playing catching around the school field, puzzling through their homework together, lazily spending afternoons at each other’s houses and playing video games…

Waiting for Lloyd at the gate of their secondary school, every morning without fail. She would break out into a smile whenever he showed up, and they would walk to the canteen together, hand-in-hand. The moments before assembly were spent in bliss, a rare sanctuary from the constant stress of school. They would talk about anything and everything while they shared a single pair of earphones, listening to her latest favourite song.

When finally, they were separated by attending different tertiary institutes, she would spend hours every week (not that she didn’t already) texting him over the phone. Every time a message from him lit up her phone screen, her heart would swell with happiness and she would scramble to unlock her phone screen. The silly little pictures and comments he sent her never failed to brighten her day. Her favourite part of the week became talking to Lloyd over the phone on weekends, letting the sound of his voice drift into her ears just like her favourite music. And still, she would send newly released songs that she liked to Lloyd to see what he thought. During the rare weekends that they were both free, they would meet up with Zelos and Sheena for ice-skating and karaoke. Lloyd always let her pick the songs.

She liked this song quite a lot as well. It was sweet.

The sound of Aska’s voice coming over the radio grew steadily louder as Zelos rotated the volume knob. “I know you like this song, Angel. So why don’t you sing along?”

“Won’t I be annoying everyone else? I don’t want that…”

“It’s all right,” Sheena waved her worries away, grinning back at Colette from the front seat. “Zelos and I had our fun screaming English songs earlier. It's only fair you get to do the same, so sing your heart out!”

“It’s really OK?” Colette muttered, shyly lowering her head. “I don’t know…”

“I like your singing! So go ahead!” Lloyd proclaimed, grabbing her hand from across the backseat. Colette stared with wide eyes, flushing immediately.

“Well, you can sing along too,” Colette replied, looking away to hide her blush. “It’ll be more fun that way.”

“I - well, I don’t know! My singing is way worse than yours!”

“I’ve heard you sing at karaoke before, Lloyd. You sound just fine! Come on, let’s do a duet!”

“OK, OK!” Lloyd laughed, shifting closer in his seat, of course without escaping his seatbelt. “Let’s do this, I guess!”

“My god, they are dense,” Sheena muttered.

“They are, quite literally, singing a song about how deep one's love is,” Zelos agreed. “Can they get any dumber?”

“I mean, Lloyd’s Chinese isn’t… great…”

“It can’t be this bad. I refuse to believe that. I know he barely passed his O level Higher Chinese, but surely he can still get the basic gist!”

I wonder what they’re arguing about? Colette thought, before discarding that thought entirely, too engrossed in singing along with Lloyd by her side.

~~~

“Don’t you two want to join in too?” Colette asked, confused as to why Zelos and Sheena didn’t want to partake in a photo before the famous Casuarina tree in Upper Seletar Reservoir. They had taken the time to drive here, they should at least commemorate it!

“No, it’s fine! We’ll take a photo after you two.” Sheena waved away Colette’s concerns, staring with a furrowed brow at the tree. Honestly, it didn't look too impressive to her. What to do now…? The place looked romantic enough for her and Zelos’ purposes, but the problem lay in how to initiate the conversation on the other two’s side. Remembering what she and Zelos had read about the Casuarina tree, an idea formed in her head.

Making eye contact with Zelos, Sheena made a little heart shape with her hands, hoping he would be on the same wavelength as her. Thankfully, Zelos seemed to understand, because he nodded with a slowly growing smirk. “Hey, Bud! Did you know that newly-weds take their wedding photos here?”

“Really? That’s nice!” Colette exclaimed. “The atmosphere of this place is very romantic. We can take some nice photos here. You two sure you don’t want to join in?”

Sheena resisted the urge to scream and dig a hole for herself in the dirt to hide in for the rest of eternity. She loved her friends, but having to face them staring lovey-dovey at each other every second of every day without realising they were doing it had been driving her insane for the past year.

Zelos’ smile was twitching at the corners now. He had to be as exasperated as her by this point. “Yeah, we’re sure. How about you two do a pose? Like a heart shape?”

“A heart shape?” Colette thought about it for a moment before breaking out into a giant smile. “That’s cute! Do you mind, Lloyd?”

“Sounds great!”

Sheena grabbed Zelos’ hand and begun tugging with all of her might. They needed to talk. Like, now. Zelos, thank god, put up absolutely no resistance and let himself be pulled along like a rag doll.

“Where are they going? We need another person to take the photo!” Colette asked, staring in the direction that Sheena and Zelos had run off in utter confusion. Zelos and Sheena tended to run off at random times. To do what, she didn't know. She would really like to find out.

“Don’t mind them. We can just take a selfie!”

“OK, we are now… ” Zelos craned his head to scan his surroundings. “Directly overlooking Seletar Reservoir. We should be far enough to discuss things now, right?”

“Yes,” Sheena got out through gritted teeth. “I am completely and utterly done. Nothing we do has worked! Do you remember that one time we all bought tickets to a romance movie and then bailed on the two of them? It was on Chinese New Year, so I couldn't even pay student price! AND I STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN MY THIRTEEN DOLLARS BACK YET!”

Zelos groaned. “You tell me. Remember that time we did the same thing with a karaoke session? I had to tell them it was a treat, which means I haven’t gotten my twenty-six dollars back.”

“You’re rich, though.” Sheena replied. “You live in like… landed property.”

“But I’m still stingy.”

Sheena looked back at Colette and Lloyd, who had resorted to some funny positions to take selfies while still doing a pose. They were adorable, but there had still been no progress made. At all. It was infuriating.

“What do we do now?” She muttered, putting her weight against the railing so she could lean out over the sparkling blue water and enjoy the slowly building breeze.

“I don’t think we can do anything,” Zelos replied, shrugging hopelessly. “At this point, I don’t think they would notice if an asteroid struck the Earth. They’re too busy spending time with each other. I propose we give up and just let nature take its course. They’re happy enough as it is.”

“But god, it’s frustrating,” Sheena groaned, leaning out further so her entire upper half was hanging free of the railing. Zelos was inching closer in case she really did fall, but that was unlikely to happen given her excellent sense of balance that he had witnessed firsthand. Still, did she really have to do such dangerous things all the time?

“It is, but that’s how they’ve always been.”

Sheena sighed, deciding to simply enjoy the serenity and let go of any thoughts concerning her other two friends. A quiet moment with her oldest friend was rather rare to come by, given how bombastic he usually was. “We were talking about how all four of us met at lunch… Honestly, it was pure coincidence that the two of us met in primary school.”

“I like to think that it’s fate!” Zelos proclaimed, winking at her. Under the noontime sun, high in the sky, his hair seemed even redder than usual. He had undergone quite a transformation since the end of Junior College last November. Zelos had sported short hair in line with the ever-present school rules from the moment she’d met him, but the lifting of those restrictions had finally given him the chance to grow it out. The shoulder-length curly red hair, being lifted in the wind… Honestly, she thought it fit him.

“Yeah, sure,” Sheena snorted. “It’s just like you to proclaim it’s - EEK!” The first cold raindrop hit the back of her bare neck, startling her so much that she nearly lost her balance and toppled into the reservoir. Only Zelos’ hand, secure on her shoulder, kept her from dipping head-first.

“Geez, Sheena. Don’t give me a heart attack, would you?”

“Sorry, old man. But thanks.”

“Wow, you seldom thank me,” Zelos replied, raising one eyebrow in surprise. “And I’m not that old! I’m turning 21 this year! That’s still pretty young, right? RIGHT?”

Sheena looked up into the sky, which had rapidly turned from blue to grey. The storm cloud in the far distance that she had noticed in the corner of her eye some time ago had made its merry way over. Following the trend of the previous week's weather, it would be raining cats and dogs soon.

“You two!” Colette ran over, yelling with one hand held above her head in the vain hope that it would shield her from the rain. “We should hurry back to the car before it gets any heavier!”

“Come on,” Zelos muttered. It was his turn to pull Sheena along as they made the short run back to the car.

By the time everyone was back in the car, they were all utterly drenched and resembled bedraggled rats. Lloyd winced at the amount of water they were dripping on the car seats. Hopefully, no permanent damage was done. They should have brought an umbrella out of the car.

Poor decisions were made.

“Hey Lloyd, did you, by any chance, check the weather forecast?” Zelos asked, accepting the tissue that Colette was offering. Somehow he had ended up in the backseat instead of the front seat. Well, he would gladly let Lloyd drive now.

“Uh… I didn’t,” Lloyd said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I… sorta forgot to?”

“It’s been raining for the entire month of January and you didn’t think to check the weather forecast?” Sheena asked. Wasn’t that… common sense? Never mind, she was expecting too much of Lloyd.

“It’s so heavy,” Colette said, peering out of the window with her nose pressed to it. The view was completely obscured by the white screen the dense raindrops formed, the patter of the rain against the window drowning out all other sounds. “It’s going to get so cold… We can’t really go on to the next destination like this.”

“We can go to my place,” Lloyd offered. “My parents will be out today until the evening and this trip was supposed to last until 6.”

“Huh. Well, no objections here,” Zelos replied. “Just get us out of this rain.”

“Can we play Smash Brothers again?” Sheena asked. “That was fun the last time we went to your house.”

“Sure,” Lloyd shrugged, turning the key in the ignition and starting the engine. “Smash Brothers it is.”

~~~

“Kirby! I want Kirby!” Colette pouted, clutching the single Joy-Con securely in one hand with a Pikachu plush settled in her lap. The moment they had gotten to Lloyd’s place, she’d tied her hair into a messy ponytail and put on one of the hoodies she’d left there from her various trips. It had little ears on the hood and Totoro’s face emblazoned across the front. It was adorable, but best of all, it was warm and toasty. And she really needed that given how cold it was.

It was comfortable here, tucked between Lloyd and Sheena on the sofa facing the television mounted on the wall. Zelos was lounging on a separate plush back chair that he’d dragged from the dining table, carefully snacking on a pack of Mamee Noodles that he’d pilfered from the pantry. Lloyd had warned Zelos that if he got even a single crumb on the floor, he’d be dead meat.

“I’ll let you have Kirby,” Sheena decided, moving her cursor across the screen. “But I’m getting Sheik. Prepare to lose!”

“Why so competitive?” Zelos wondered, hovering the cursor over the random option. “It’s just a casual game. We’re even playing with items on.”

“It’s the spirit, Zelos! Better get into it, because I’m coming after you first!”

“Wha - Sheena, that’s not fair! Don’t pick on me!”

The four of them proceeded to play a few rounds where, more often than not, Sheena and Zelos would get engrossed in defeating each other while Colette and Lloyd simply goofed around. It was fun, but of course, they got tired of it after a while.

Colette eventually found herself sitting behind Zelos, gently braiding his hair. There wasn’t much to work with, but there was just enough for a fun little side braid. Sheena was kicking back with a packet of milo, while Lloyd was sitting on the floor sifting through movie DVDs that he'd pulled out of a cabinet.

The Pikachu plush had been abandoned to sit on the floor, alone. If Noishe was still alive, he'd have snatched it off the floor and run off with it already. Lloyd would then have proceeded to chase Noishe all around the apartment. Colette missed Noishe. A lot.

“Are you planning to grow this out any longer?” Colette asked, gently threading one bunch of hair through the other. She didn’t want to pull too hard and risk hurting Zelos. “I think it would look good on you.”

“Maybe,” Zelos replied, glancing down at his phone, which he was busy scrolling through. “It used to be this long when I was still in Germany. At least I won't need to chop off all my hair in February, unlike a certain someone."

“Gah, bald Lloyd is something I do not want to think about.” Sheena blanched, taking the straw out of her mouth. “That image is straight out of my nightmares.”

“I don’t like thinking about it either,” Lloyd muttered, pulling out the DVD for Tangled. Did his family’s blu-ray player even still work? It had been a pretty long time since they’d played a DVD instead of just using Netflix. “Can we just stop talking about this altogether? Please?”

“I'm not gonna stop talking about my hair! It’s fabulous -” Zelos froze, staring down at his phone screen in abject horror. “Colette, what time is it?”

“Huh?” Colette stopped mid-threading, confused, one hand still holding a bunch of red hair. She craned her head to consult the clock hung on the wall (which, to Lloyd’s eternal chagrin, still displayed his baby pictures from the first year of his life). “It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Crap, I need to go,” Zelos cursed, stuffing his phone back into his jeans and scrambling to his feet. “I have an online interview at 4.30.”

Sheena’s mouth fell open as she stared at Zelos in astonishment. “The interview for the scholarship is today, and you didn’t think to say anything until now?”

“Yeah, Zelos. We could have just rescheduled this trip or something. Why didn't you tell us? Are you going to make it home in time?" Lloyd piped up in concern.

“He stays close enough that he should be fine if he doesn’t miss the bus,” Colette said, mournfully watching the braid she had done unravel before her very eyes. “You remember where the bus stop is, right?”

“Of course I do! I’ve come here enough times to know that much!” Zelos called back, busy packing his stuff back into his backpack. He haphazardly zipped it up, his water bottle still hanging out the side precariously, before slinging it over one shoulder. “I’ll just be on my way, then!”

“I’m going with you, idiot,” Sheena grumbled, picking up her bag as well. “I leave you alone for a month and this happens.”

“You can’t leave me alone with them,” Sheena hissed under her breath at Zelos as they left the apartment and walked into the lift lobby. “I will die.”

“Well, we’re the only two here now.” Colette swung her feet up onto the sofa, pushing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “What do we do now?”

“We can still watch Disney movies!” Lloyd raised the Tangled DVD, grinning. “You up for it?”

“Sure! I love Disney movies!” No objections from her side.

Lloyd inserted the DVD into the Blu-ray player, bundling the blanket into his arms and heading over to the sofa to seat himself next to Colette. Gingerly, he tucked the blanket around the two of them. The wind from the rain was still howling outside the apartment, and the air was still rather chilly.

“This is nostalgic,” Colette whispered, resting her head on Lloyd’s shoulder and taking his hand as the movie started.

“It’s like nothing ever changed.” Like she had never moved away from this HDB, like they were still little children attending the same primary school, like they had no responsibilities resting on their shoulders…

The fatigue from the morning that had been chased away by the cheer and enthusiasm of her friends slowly sneaked up on her, here with a blanket keeping the warmth around her and the soft, warm colours of the television swimming in front of her eyes. Not to mention Lloyd’s presence, comforting and familiar. It was enough for her to close her eyes…

~~~

And that was the position Kratos and Anna found Lloyd and Colette in when they got home: Colette still soundly sleeping and Lloyd sitting ramrod straight in his attempt to not awaken Colette.

~~~

Full fic

#fanfiction #one shot #tales of symphonia #colloyd #colette brunel #lloyd irving #sheena fujibayashi #zelos wilder #preview

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avversiera-writes · 3 years

Text

try again; in everyday we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Then

Summary: some comedy,, more doing the deedddd, some comedic relief, hah! light-hearted stuff while the glaring dramatic irony lingers

Word Count: ~4k

Author’s Note: ik ik it’s been a while! almost done tho. thank you for reading <3

also on AO3.

Chapter 1 - Now | Chapter 2 - Then, part 1 | Chapter 2 - Then, part 2 | Chapter 3 - Now |

Tobirama is busy meeting with delegates from Kumogakure, and you are stuck being a wife in your own home, trying not to get embarrassed in front of the servants as you talk about replacing the broken bed in your room and changing the curtains around the house, or some other household detail that needs attending. You also talk with the cook in the kitchen about dinner, as Tobirama’s students are going to come over tonight, and you want to make sure that the food will be up to their tastes.

You trudge through your day until past noon, deciding that it is a good time to drop by the Hokage mansion to get your stubborn husband to eat something. The more Tobirama gets busy, the more he ignores the simplest ways to sustain himself. It is even harder to get him off when he is hard at work and is very focused on his tasks. He has a way of zeroing in on whatever he is doing, and while he is quite efficient at it, hours can pass him by before he even considers taking a break.

This part of Tobirama, you admire and loathe him for it, because he rarely thinks about taking care of himself. It has always been work for him, and you know that he enjoys it more than anything, despite the stress that it brings him.

Now that you have taken a step back from being an active shinobi, you are able to look after him in your own way. There are times he resists being looked after, but after some pushing and prodding on your part, he would grudgingly accept it.

Being married to him and getting to know more sides of him is thrilling, and it makes you fall for him even more.

In your bedroom, preparing to drop by the Hokage office, you study your clothes, deciding which kimono you should wear and which outer robe or pair of sandals you want to match it with. You have never really thought about fashion that much, because you often opted for practical clothing. Now that you are the Hokage's wife, you know you have to look the part, and also, it does not hurt to wear something pretty for your husband.

After deciding with a light green kimono with a slit on the left leg, and pairing a yellow outer coat to complement it, you step out of the bedroom to head down the kitchen.

The house is quiet, except for the quiet footsteps just outside the house, indicating that the servants of the house are keeping away to give you some privacy. You really do not mind their company, but they are gone before you can express your sentiments.

You make a mental note to change that. Despite being in a village where classes of people are blurred, it seems to be different within clans. You know that some of the Senju have married with the common folk and into other clans, but since the two heads of the clan are Hokage, that part of the family is treated almost like royalty.

You shake your head. Hierarchies were the least of your problems, especially one that involves family. In the shinobi world, it is simpler, and there are many opportunities to move up your rank. Whereas, being part of the more mundane life, it is a whole different world from what you knew.

You uncover the pan where the cook had left the fried fish that Tobirama likes and you begin to pack it into a box, along with rice and some side dishes that he sometimes eats along with this kind of dish. You prepare his tea, and a few rice cakes, then you wrap everything into a nice blanket to make it easier to carry.

Footsteps approach the long kitchen, and you whirl around, only to spot Miura Kimiko.

“My lady, I am so sorry to interrupt!” Kimiko expresses.

“Oh, it’s you,” you greet. You throw a smile at the last minute to reassure that there is nothing to worry about. You are completely caught off-guard by her presence, since no one is really around you at the moment. “I have been meaning to talk to you.”

Kimiko smiles kindly. “Really?”

You let out a nervous giggle. “Well, it turns out that I may need your help after all. You know, with the...” You trail off and you give Kimiko an embarrassed look.

Kimiko’s face lights up in joy, and you finally let out a genuine smile. “That’s great, my lady!”

You press a hand to your forehead and laugh. “I had no idea that he would be so quick to decide. He seemed very eager.”

Kimiko laughs, and you take Tobirama’s wrapped lunch.

“I see,” Kimiko walks towards you, and pauses at the cupboards. “I will have to make a quick trip to the market. We can talk later, and I can show you and give you your first batch of tea for fertility purposes. Then, along the way, we’ll talk of the supplements that will ensure a healthy birth.”

You meet her eyes. “Thank you, Kimiko-san. I really appreciate this.” You give her a small bow. “I will put my trust in you.”

“I am honored, my lady,” Kimiko replies, and from there, you leave her be in the kitchen to make your way towards the Hokage office.

There was some waiting to be done, once you get in the Hokage office. The mansion is flourishing with many people, delegates and their aides that have been authorized to stay there for the duration of their visit. It seems that peace negotiations are coming along well, judging by the atmosphere of the place. There is no tension that you feel. You hope that Tobirama’s alliance with Kumo will come along soon, though you foresee the many months of more political talks that will ail his office hours.

Sensing that Tobirama will not be available immediately, you tell one of his guards that you will be waiting in the library for him, and make your way there.

You smile at the familiar sight, the moment you step in. It has been a while since you have been here, in this place, where you and Tobirama had spent a lot of your earlier years together, and where your love probably first budded from. You learned more from each other through observation and silence, and of course, your nonstop banter that somehow turned into a dance of flirtationship.

It seems so long ago.

You look to the table where the two of you had spent countless hours poring over research books, record books and writing into scrolls and manuscripts about plans for the growing Academy. This place has evolved–it used to be smaller. There are now more bookshelves that are being filled with newer books, and the restricted section, only accessible to those jounin level and higher, are also growing, no doubt due to your husband’s non-stop inventions. He had a huge hand in writing a lot of academic research and theory that will certainly help the future generations. That is what he is hoping for, after all, to build something that will last.

You finally sit at your table, where dust is gathering and swirling in motes due to the sunlight peering in from the window. There is a clock at the back of the library, and it clicks loudly, echoing in the dusty, warm place to signal the passing time.

You trace a finger on the table, remembering that Tobirama found it childish that you doodle on random things, and then you remember telling him off and to mind his own business.

“What are you smiling about?” Tobirama’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you turn your head to his direction. He comes closer and he glances at the table, probably coming into a realization. “I see. You were a bit of a terror back then.”

Tobirama sits across from you, and you notice that he is wearing his Hokage clothes.

“Long day?” You ask.

“The day has not even begun to start,” Tobirama sighs, and he begins to roll his sleeves back. “It is hard to keep track of the delegates coming in and out, and harder to make sure that our own delegates in Kumo are not messing up anything.”

“Well, have a little faith,” you tell him.

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure a little faith will do it. One of them, by the way, is my eldest nephew, and he is everything Hashirama is and none of his mother’s tact and charm.”

“Your brother is charming, stop it.” You crack a smile.

Tobirama narrows his eyes at you as he unpacks the lunch you have brought him. “Yes, he has charm, and he is sunshine and all about inspiration, that will dazzle the leaders of Kumogakure.”

You roll your eyes. “This is a good thing. He gets to show off the youthfulness that peaceful times can only bring.”

If Tobirama could laugh out loud, this moment would be it. However, he lets out a huff of breath with a small smile, his version of being amused. “Perhaps. That ought to be the winning argument.”

You let Tobirama eat in peace, and instead, decide to wander around the library to find the old places you used to crash into when you and Tobirama had to pull all-nighters, or when you just needed some space from him being a blunt asshole. You pull out the books that he used to recommend you, and flip through the pages where he had left tiny notes and markers for you to find. All of them, you have kept and preserved.

Back then, you found this part of Tobirama confusing and annoying, because he keeps passing you one book after another in the guise of studying it, but now that you think about it, this was his way of letting you know that he was interested. You remember the folded papers and bookmarks that would fall out when you open them, and your miffedness from trying to collect them from the ground. You were convinced that Tobirama was out to get you.

“You know what, husband, I take it back. You were a bit of a charmer back then,” you note as you sense him approaching. You slide the book back into its shelf, creating a cleaner path from the dust.

“And you were quite mean,” Tobirama says with a hint of mock wonder. “What were your words? That I was a senile, arrogant bastard who can go stick–”

“Alright, alright,” you interrupt and shoot him a glare. “I said I take it back.”

“Yes, but my poor heart,” Tobirama sarcastically replies.

You look at him, feigning bewilderment. “Are you joking around with me? Wow ! You are capable of such things!”

Tobirama smirks. “I am capable of many things.”

You scoff. “Your audacity at this moment, Lord Nidaime.”

Tobirama does not even look like there is a hint of shame on that proud, stoic face of his.

You bite back a smirk, and the two of you stare at each other for a short moment. The air between you changes, and before you know it, Tobirama is pushing you against the bookshelves, his mouth on yours, and his rough hands slipping through the slit of your kimono to grope your hips. You hear books fall to the floor and scrolls rolling on its surface, and your hand goes above your head to find some sort of purchase.

“Maybe I should have done this earlier and saved us the confusion of finding out if we really did like each other,” Tobirama roughly whispers into your ear.

“If you did, I would have certainly, absolutely have stabbed my katana into your–”

Tobirama steals your last words by pushing his tongue through your mouth and you moan, pleased.

“Can you really afford to waste time like this?” You gasp as Tobirama delves into your neck intensely.

“I’m the Hokage,” Tobirama answers curtly.

“Some abuse of power right there.”

You close your eyes as Tobirama’s hands cup your ass and presses you against his body, where you can feel his half-aroused erection. You grind against him, and he pushes you into the bookshelf again, where you can feel the edge of the shelves pressing against your back.

“Haven’t you had enough?” You ask him beguilingly.

Tobirama stares at you with a serious expression, and something about it makes you weak. “Of you?” He plants a tender kiss on your lips. “If you begin to impose too much.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, goodbye. I’ll see you at home. Enjoy your erection.”

You attempt to leave his grasp, but he steadies you in one place with firm hands.

“Where are you going, and with this cut in your clothing? Let’s put it into good use, shall we?” Tobirama says in a low voice.

He whirls you around, and hikes up your clothes up to your hips. The cool air makes you shiver, and you grab onto a shelf to steady yourself. Tobirama is taller, and he is pulling you against himself, making your balance unsteady.

Your husband runs a hand between your thighs, and you can’t help but moan when he begins to rub his fingers against your heat. He stops, and then you hear quick shuffling of clothes behind you. You reach behind you to feel Tobirama and you let out a low chuckle when you realize that he has opted to shed his Hokage robes.

“You have got it bad, Lord Nidaime,” you murmur.

“Yes, poor me, whatever shall I do now,” he says quickly. He grips your hip and positions it so that he can perfectly align against your entrance.

Then, he slips in, and you let out a long drawn moan as he sheathes himself inside you completely.

You hear him murmur curses, and you gasp as he rears back, only to slam himself back in with a precision that immediately paints your vision white. You forget you have legs, and you almost fall down as Tobirama begins to thrust into you unforgivingly. You let out a cry, and his hand quickly slaps over your mouth.

You hear his harsh breaths, getting louder and faster. Your lower back curves a little bit more, and the angle changes, and Tobirama begins to pound the spot that makes your body buck into him wildly.

With nothing to support yourself, you accidentally tear the shelf in half above your head, and more books come crashing into the floor. Tobirama moves the two of you away from the mess, and he plasters you against the wall. You can only gasp as he resumes his fucking, and the slick sounds of skin against skin, of the neck-breaking speed that Tobirama snaps his hips to, makes you come so hard that you only remember worrying about the roof or the floor caving in until Tobirama places you on a table, and begins to fuck you there.

You cry out, slewing curses with a creativity that only comes when you are high.

The table beneath you breaks, and Tobirama lowers your conjoined bodies onto the floor. You hold on to his shoulders, and lean back as he uses his tongue and his lips trace your neck and to plant light bruises there. You grind into him, chasing another high, and you end up pulling at his hair to expose more of his neck.

You suck on the side of his neck, and his hands on your hips begin to guide you into a slow, agonizing rhythm. Finally, the two of you kiss, and Tobirama gives you a hard thrust upwards that sends your legs flailing, and you feel his cock twitch inside you as he breeds you with his hot seed.

“Oh my gods,” you murmur, but you are not sure if you have said it out loud.

Tobirama is still breathing harshly against your shoulder, and he is holding onto you like a tight coil. You feel his heart thundering against his chest, and as you come to, Tobirama shows no sign of letting up his grip. Slowly, you run a hand down his arm to soothe him. You give light kisses on the side of his face, and you continue to caress him gently.

"Too much?" You ask teasingly.

Tobirama coughs, and even that sounds embarrassed. "We're really doing this."

"It hasn't set in yet, huh?"

Tobirama squeezes your waist with his arms as his reply and you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Are you going to let go of me?" You ask tentatively.

Tobirama lets out a sigh and you stifle a giggle. It is rare to catch a very soft Tobirama.

"Are you not tired?" Tobirama asks.

"No, not at all." You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. "Are you? Is your age catching up?"

Tobirama scoffs and he immediately scowls. "I am not that old, and I can go for more if you want."

You lean towards him languorously, a victorious smile spreading across your lips. "Yes, but you have a job to do."

Tobirama slowly eases you off of him. "They can wait. I think I'll get a chronic migraine because of some hard to please delegates."

"With that expression of yours, one might think you already do," you can't resist saying back.

Tobirama stares at you blankly. "Now I get why people are wondering why I married you,” he deadpans.

“I beg to differ, Lord Nidaime, I’m quite the catch,” you smile cheekily as you watch Tobirama’s ears flush pink.

You give your husband a few quick kisses on the lips before he can react, and you move away to stand up and gather yourself.

“Whoah.” Your legs wobble slightly as you take a step.

Tobirama catches you by the elbow, and you feel your face blush from his action.

“Careful,” he warns.

“Right,” you say in a quiet voice. You survey the damage and you swallow nervously. “Um...I am going to stay here, and clean up and also make sure that I do not look like I just got mugged.”

Tobirama throws you a dirty look as he searches for his clothes. “Don’t worry about the mess, I will take care of it.”

“I was talking about myself,” you run a hand through your hair.

Tobirama quickly puts on his clothes, and you watch him, surrounded by the broken bookshelves and the books littered on the floor. You can sense that the two of you are panicking about getting caught, or having someone walk in here, especially when the Hokage mansion is housing so many people.

“You’re the worst,” you blurt out.

Tobirama raises an eyebrow and slides on his sandals. His serious expression becomes funnier as his hard features begin to morph into helplessness. You note the blooming bruises on his neck, and you gesture at it, with the same helplessness.

“Right,” Tobirama awkwardly says and tugs his collar up.

The two of you stare at each other with the familiarity of two strangers in the wrong place, and Tobirama skeeters out of the library in the most elegant way that he can muster, and when he is gone, you slide to the floor, staring at the space in front of you, then, you begin to laugh out loud.

Instead of going straight home, you try your best to clean up the library, and to check your image on the glass window to make sure you look representable. Then, you wait for Tobirama in a common lounge since this whole ordeal took the whole afternoon, and it is now nearing dinner.

You wrap your outer coat tighter, and try to mask the slight limp that you have developed over the course of the afternoon.

Finally, your husband is out of his work’s clutches for now, and the two of you hurry home, trying to beat Tobirama’s students there so that the two of you can freshen up.

However, your plans are ruined, when you find the six of them standing on the yard, aghast as the servants haul out the bed that the two of you have broken, and they watch, as a new bed is carried into the house.

Tobirama stiffens beside you, and you manage a small smile, knowing that you look disheveled as you feel.

In the yard, both Hiruzen and Danzo look horrified, Torifu is pale, Kagami and Homura have their mouths opened, and in all of their eyes you can see a growing realization, while Koharu struggles to keep her face from deviating from her usual strict expression.

Tobirama stands beside you, calm and collected, regal and shameless. He nods, and he leaves you in the yard and walks abruptly into the house.

“EW!” The boys shouted.

Koharu rolls her eyes and she starts to walk away. "Get it together," she snaps.

You resist the urge to put a hand on your face to cover up your embarrassment, and instead, choose to walk towards the house with your whole chest.

To be continued...

Chapter 5 - Then >>

#angelica writes #Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x you #tobirama x reader #naruto fanfiction #you never said goodbye timeline/au #'til death do us part

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angelhummel · 3 years

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what do you hate about next class? just curious lol, i've watched it and i didn't hate it but it def feels like a different show compared to tng

Ahhhhhh it was just such a downgrade from the original show in general lol. I mean just looking at the episode titles and how everything is #SquadGoals #NotAllMen like these things were dated in 2017 lmao it’s embarrassing

And I know it sounds contradictory to complain that the show sucked, then complain that it was too short, but it was. Like they went from 40 episode seasons (which were really like twenty 45 minute episodes since everything was a two parter) to only ten episodes a season. There was no room for any fun. No room for growth or character moments. Everything was like a life or death after school special PSA and it was exhaustinggg

and sorry but that bunch of characters were some of the worst the show has ever seen. frankie, esme, lola, hunter, baaz, vijay. awful awful awful. genuinely sorry if you love any of them but they were not ittt. and even characters i liked, like zig or tiny or shay, were acting stupid as hell. oh and they put my favorite character in a coma and then made him mute/mostly absent for like two seasons (: i hate it

also it felt like the majority of the show was about race?? and being written by these 100 year old white people. it just felt so performative and fake woke and ugh. shay having to ask her dad what racism was?? zoe dressing up as a geisha?? winston saying maybe goldie should just take her hijab off?? THE ZOO??? i dont have to say anything else

and not about race but one of my absolute favorite moments. when the queer student union room was being repurposed to be the muslim student union room or whatever. and zoe is like “well where are we supposed to gather?” and grace is like “gay people already won all their battles. they dont have anything else to fight for. the muslim students need it more” with literally zero trace of irony or joking. it was so fucking funny oh my god

So yeah. Just a combination of the cringey slang and the fake wokeness, the worst characters I’ve ever seen, mishandling the characters I did like, and cramming everything into ten episodes per season and giving nothing room to breathe.

#not glee #degrassi #asks #answered #my thoughts #sorry if you like love next class or any of those characters lmao #Anonymous

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gunmetalarchived · 3 years

Text

winner takes it all; pt 1 | a discord thread with @epiitaphs + @consultingsister

ALEX

It had been 48 hours since she had last closed her eyes, and they stung with exhaustion. Alex couldn’t tear them away from the door though, knowing what was coming. She was about to watch her life fall apart, for the third time.

It would play out something similar to the events of two days earlier. He would be hauled in, bag over his head and hands bound together with multiple zip ties. They only managed to catch her because her weakness was known. They were monitoring Sams home, watching for any trace of the prize they were after, Sam still had the alarming bruise on the left side of his face where he had been knocked unconscious. They were tied up and transported to the government black site, to here. Where she had no real choice but to sign away her life in the hopes it might keep her family safe too. She had turned out Sams rational protest at the sordid series of events to state Mycroft dead in the eye. She knew a predator when she locked eyes with one. This wasn’t a rescue attempt, it was a death sentence. But once she could live with.

From the other side of the mirrored glass, she watched that door unblinking. She could have been in that room, she could have taken him in herself. Yet she knew for certain if there wasn’t a bulletproof layer between them then Sebastian would kill her. He still might, given the chance. He still saw the red flags throughout his time with Moriarty as little romantic hints. He had no objectivity, although he had no reason to either. Why fear the man when killing you would be such a heavenly way to die?

She had told Sam to go home, promised she wouldn’t be far behind. He had the destruction to pick up after their flat had been raised by swat teams. He didn’t need to watch what was about to happen, he deserved more than that. Seeing a cornered caged animal was horrifying in itself but when it was someone you knew? Someone you cared about? This was something Alex needed to bare alone.

Or with whoever opened the door she had her back to.

SHERLOCK

Perhaps it was because he didn’t believe that he had ended up in hell. It had more filing cabinets than he imagined. More interrogation rooms. At least Mycroft was happy. Although he didn’t smile much, he walked around with a self-satisfied air. Mycroft Holmes was not a bad man but he was perhaps petty. For example, he didn’t need to haul Alex Moran and Doctor Prescott from their home in the middle of the night. It as just because he could. Sherlock had handed over the keys to the kingdom and Mycroft was happy enough pretending to be the King. No Jim, Morland getting old; a black hole was forming and Sherlock had intended to get as many people to safety as he could before the end. Only, watching Alex give nothing for six hours didn’t exactly feel like safety. Mycroft taking more than he needed because he could wasn’t what he wanted. Maybe he was the clever one, he certainly got everything he wanted.

Sherlock was tired. He thought he might sleep more when he was dead. In the hours since Alex had agreed to everything Sherlock had done nothing but stare at a laptop screen, read through documents and guess at where to find Sebastian Moran. At least this one, he considered, would be satisfying.

For a moment, he stood in the hallway, one door to his left (soon, they would bring in Sebastian, shine a spotlight on his face and demand from him) and to his right, the safety of the observation room. Maybe he could sit and sleep for the next twenty-minutes. Only, when he opened the door the feeling of lightning shot through him, energising him. That bastard. How could Mycroft not tell him; how could he allow him, after all their planning, to just walk in on her again.

It was panic that tightening around his throat. He could hardly close the door and walk away now. He didn’t want to either. “Alex?” His voice was hoarse, unused for days, only to give an address for Seb. “Alex, I didn’t-- I had no idea--”

ALEX

She expected.... well, she didn't know that what she had expected. But certainly not a man who had called her, who she had watched die. She had seen it, seem him plummet to his death through the scope. That definitely wasn't a trick, nor was the voicemail that sounded so genuine. It had been two months of complete silence. She had watched her back, watched her brothers back, watched Sam struggle from afar all hoping beyond hope that there would be a chance of it being a mistake. Except as she stared into those big green eyes she felt nothing but pure rage. How dare he?

He said her name like he hadn't said much in years. Almost six years exactly. He had held her through the night and known it was going to be goodbye. And she had buried the person that loved him since then. Years of dodging direct contact, of trying to stay just out of sight to save face. And now he stood right in front of her, defying all logic.

She moved across the room to him as fast as physically possible, but instead of reaching out to pull him close, her balled fist connected with his jaw in a strong right hook. Her lips curled up in s snarl, half out of breath just from trying not to strangle him them and there. " Code. Fucking. Zero" was all she could manage through gritted teeth, grey eyes glaring at him with unbridled fury.

SHERLOCK

He saw it coming. Passionate was how he might describe Alex Moran. Psychotic would probably be more accurate. And he could already hear Celia saying you enjoyed her touching you too much. Only she wasn't talking to him now. Or he wasn't talking to her. He guess there was a difference. He couldn't really do anything to stop her but he didn't try. He braced himself for the pain and fell backwards, holding his jaw with a small whine. "I know-- I know."

Sherlock rarely cried but shame crashed over him like a wave. Anger too. Why was Mycroft doing this to him? Punishment for picking Alex over Cee, maybe? He let the force of her punch carry him to the floor and he stayed there. "I am dead. I am dead. Alex you were not-- I wasn't-- I have no excuse, I was not supposed to even be in the country but that-- I needed you to--- move on."

But she had moved on, she would go home to Sam after all this and that was exactly what he wanted. "What can I say," he was begging, "what can I do? I am so so sorry, this is not what I wanted."

ALEX

She stood there in ill fitting borrowed clothes, the t shirt she has slept in still underneath. Her hair was wild and falling out of its messy hun by now, a hot mess if she had ever looked one. She pulled back her leg to aim a kick at him on the floor, and stopped. Her shoulders heaved with heavy breaths. This was a conversation they needed to have, another time she could kick the life out of him for scaring her like that. But right now? Right now she had enough to think about.

Alex stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. It was hardly proud, but it was something. She couldn’t look at him right now. “Keep your eyes up, if you want your brother in one piece. I’m sure as hell not saving his life.”

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but the connection to his jaw was enough to know even in her sleep deprived state this was real. Just... one thing at a time. Get home to Sam. He needed her right now. She didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed back on the door just... waiting. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

He had been the one to pick up the pieces last time. It was some kind of poetic irony he was going to get to see the creature she was so afraid of. And yet she also meant alive, or as alive as they could be. Maybe she’d be able to see his face one day without that long black coat whipping around his legs as he—

Too soon.

SHERLOCK

Sherlock didn't get up from the floor. Exhaustion was likely taking over. He had gone longer periods of time without sleep (once he conducted an experiment which included shots of adrenaline and energy drinks) but this was a different sort of tired. One knee bent, the other leg stretched out, he almost wished she would keep hitting her. Likelihood was, she had no idea what he had done, what he had agreed to before the fall, or she would have kept going.

She is mistaken into thinking he has fallen into the same trap with her.

"I couldn't care any less about how many pieces my brother is in. I hope he tears him to shreds. Mycroft was never any good at field work; he likely won't even go in." Sherlock didn't care much for violence either way; no need for it but it never really scared him. He had also never understood Alex's fear of her brother, although he could never decide if thats because he was sure his siblings could and may kill him and had accepted it, or was sure they could not.

They had both turned their back on him with relative ease this past month. He wondered if he had also been wrong about Alex. The punch meant so little, he hardly registered it as a mark against her. He deserved it of course, the man who would never lie to her, back from the dead.

"Why are you? Surely Prescott will be anxious to be home with you; will seeing Sebastian help?"

ALEX

He didn’t move from his pathetic heap, and after a few silent breaths, Alex extended an arm. She wasn’t looking at him, but it was a truce. A middle ground. Because she didn’t want him dead, she just didn’t know what to feel. It was too much in the last 48 hours, the last two months. The place where her heart had been was filled with an empty numbness when she wasn’t in Sams arms. She had watched the world collapse around her too many times to have faith in anything or anyone else. Even Sherlock.

He spoke like he really meant it, like he wanted Mycroft dead. That could be arranged. No, no that was the point of all this. It was a real fresh start. Her eyes were still glued to the door as she waited for his hand.

“Help? Nothing will help.” Why was she here? Sam did want her home, and there was no need for her to watch the consequences of her betrayal. There was never going to be a way to erase that look from her baron, knowing he would end her life given the chance. It was a totally different thing to accept it, actually seeing it meant sleepless nights and burying her heart behind a wall of steel and barbed wire. She didn’t know what the real answer was. “Why are you?”

She parroted it back at him, an old trick for deflecting he would read through in seconds.

SHERLOCK

For a moment he doesn't want to take her hand in fear that he will pass right through her. It was a fear he had since he was little, they he had died and no one, not even him had noticed. Since learning the truth from Cee, he thought he might know where this fear had come from. Still, it was silly to imagine he was a ghost. When he reached out, her hand was as solid as it ever was.

"He ruined my life."

It wasn't fair to give Seb all the credit on that one. Moriarty had a hand in it, his father, both his siblings. Alex to some degree but he would never think like that. He stands next to her, almost shoulder to shoulder. "I brought him in. I want to see the look on his face when he realises he has lost."

ALEX

She had pulled him to his feet before she could bite back her anger again. “Don’t. Don’t fucking talk about him like that.”

She still wouldn’t give him the benefit of her gaze. Especially not now. Sebastian had his fair share of the destruction but it wasn’t fair for him to take the blame when her hands were soaked in blood. Alex was far from innocent, and choice didn’t matter. At least she was aware of what was going on, Sebastian had all of that stripped from him. James Moriarty had found an addict and just changed the drugs for power and adoration. Same as Sherlock switched his high from heroin to danger.

She visibly flinched as Sherlock mentioned his role in all this. But she didn’t have the words to wound him, there was no victory here. No winners, only survival.

“I remember when you used to care about people. What is life without love? Where’s your fucking compassion now?” It was said in a quiet voice, hollow, empty. Exhausted and hoarse. She sounded like a shell of a person as well as looking like one. “At least he stayed sober.”

SHERLOCK

"You're a hypocrite, Moran. You can speak about my brother however you like, a man who does what he does for the good of the British public. Your brother is a murderer and a thief. Your whole family is. Do not pretend your causes were righteous; the Moran luck has run simply run out."

He had never spoken to her like this. He doubted he had spoken to anyone like this. But to hear his words, his preaching of love and forgiveness thrown back at him, the jab about his inability to stay sober, it was too much. Everything he had lost, everything he would continue to lose because of her and her family. She would gain, she couldn't see it now but she would gain as he fell further and further down a path he had been avoiding since he was seventeen. The one person, maybe the two if you counted Celia, who could save him would hate him and that was the end of it.

"I have no compassion for men from good families and good homes who knowingly caused others pain for his own self-serving desires. The world is full of them, Sebastian is no different."

ALEX

She launched at him before she knew what she was doing, the one concession being that her forearm was pressed against his chest and not his throat. She slammed him against the glass, the flicker of pain showing in her face as her shoulder took the impact. But she glared at him, grey eyes boring into his soul now. If he still had one.

“Funny. I don’t remember you minding much when I was fucking you. Or was getting your dick wet worth putting that aside? Is that where your line is?”

She had never claimed to be anything other than a monster, he was the one looking for a chance to play saviour. He needed this as an ego boost. All that talk about caring clearly meant nothing.

“Men like you? Silver spoon up your arse and all. Where’s the good in getting high and playing dead?”

At least she was here. At least she was going to watch as her brother exploded. She slammed him again, bristling with hate now. He had no idea what it meant to lose everything, and there was a pain in her eyes he would never have seen there before. Living through hell justified anything in the name of getting out alive.

SHERLOCK

He hardly reacts. Pain shoots through his, his lower back makes contact with the border of the fake mirror but the pain feels distant from him. To die at her hand, is that the way he wanted to go?

"It was never about the sex, you know that." His fierce tone has softened; not kind, just tired. "I know what I am. I have never pretended to be a good person, I am an addict, a spoilt rich boy. I try everyday to make decisions that will benefit others. Most days I fail. But we continue on. You cannot say the same for your family. Defend them if you have to, it's your nature to do so, but do not expect me to pity your brother, or your cousins, when they are in the hell they themselves created."

Even now, with her body weight pressed against him, he cannot lump her in with the rest of them. He knows he should. The logical side of brain says there is no difference. "I doubt Mycroft will let you kill me, he would be at risk of losing you to a prison cell if he did."

ALEX

“Neither did I.” She spat it back at him, wondering whether his cheek would come up in a nice bruise. This was so different from falling apart in his arms the last time they had been those close. It was funny to think that Alex really thought that night might be the closest she had come to death. Now she was a living breathing corpse. No passport, no records, no state and no identity. But she had a deal, a deal that could keep the few people she cared about from knowing the indefinite hell of being trapped in the same four walls with no escape. None of them knew the true extent of human cruelty. Now they might not have to.

Her hands moved from across him to his throat, but before she could apply any pressure, the door opened. The door she had been so laser focused on. In a split second she shoved him out the way, and watched as the hooded figure was bolted down to the table. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, her whole body wound so tight it was visibly stiff. Her jaw was clenched, her full attention on the person who could only be her brother. Sherlock was going to get what he wanted, he was going to see them both fall apart because he could. Because she had made every single bad choice in her life to protect the person she was loyal to above everyone, and yet he would cut her off as it was convenient.

Maybe she should have been relieved no one could find August or Bash. Maybe it was a mercy.

SHERLOCK

As she reached for his throat he thought both of how wonderful it might be to not have to live the life he had backed himself into and, with quite a different feeling, how she had once trusted him with the knowledge that she liked a hand around her throat. Nothing even close to worry occurred to him. He closed his eyes and hoped for it.

Before she could finish him, or as was more likely, someone came in to stop her finishing him. The sound or the door opening and close came through a radio he couldn't see, although he assumed there must be a button somewhere so they could communicate.

He stepped back from her, although instead of watching Seb, he watched her, the back of her head. Mycroft followed Seb in and Sherlock recognised the happiness in his brother's walk. Finally. The folder full of documents hit the metal table with a sharp slap and Sherlock attempted to melt into the shadows behind Alex.

SEBASTIAN

Sebastian was having a rough couple of weeks, to be honest. Alex had left - finally - having apparently decided he wasn't three steps away from an overdose at any given moment. It'd been nice. And maybe he'd started spiraling a little bit, but then Rich had found him and offered him a job. And that was nice - something to do. Except it'd been a week of that - weird as the situation was - and now he'd found himself grabbed, hooded, and transported somewhere.

To be honest, he'd wondered when this might happen. He wondered on the ride over, after they got him more or less immobilized, whether this was the result of the information Moriarty had told him a little before he'd died. If so, he was going to get free and kill a few people. If they let him. Sebastian wondered if they'd be stupid enough to let him go after this. The proper response was death or wasting away in some hole somewhere, but guilty consciences might get in the way.

He struggled as they unloaded him, figuring he might as well be the biggest annoyance possible before they killed him, stopped struggling when they finally put a pistol to his head to walk him down the hall. They should have done that from the start. And maybe the first few bruises should have gotten him to behave, but he didn't have anything to lose.

They dragged him into a room, yanking his arms forward to cuff him to the table. He sat, sprawling as much as someone handcuffed to a bar on the table could. He couldn't see properly beyond the weave of the bag, but he could hear the slap of a folder on the table, feel the puff of air on his hands. "So who is it I'm speaking to? Don't want to run the risk of ruining a pretty face, is it?" They couldn't see the grin behind the hood, but it was there, despite the blood and bruises. "I'm handcuffed, how much do you think I could do? I appreciate the caution a little, obviously. Feeds the ego to think you're afraid."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

The victory was hollow but he would take it. After the years that he had put up with the whole Moran families antics, it had become personal and he would enjoy this. It wasn’t just the Moran’s either. It was Sherlock choosing Alex, it was Celia choosing Morland. The fragile ecosystem his mother had left with him had fallen apart. Only now he felt like he had it back again. Maybe not quote as complete as before, but he was back on top.

He strolled into the integration room, closing the door firmly behind him, pulling at his tie. He glanced up, just for a moment into the mirror, imagining Alex standing behind it. That little bitch imagined she had called the shots on this one; he wondered is Sherlock had told her yet that they had been in control since the beginning. Mycroft moved past Seb, reaching up in the corner of the room to yank out the wires that lead to the security camera. What the British Government didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them. After all, he had done much worse than his in the name of national security and they had thanked him for it.

His movements were slow, controlled and then, pausing for a moment in front of Seb, he slammed the other man’s head down hard against the table. It was a rush, he’ll admit that. He understood the pull of violence, he was just a better man than Sebastian Moran. He knew when to say no. He doesn’t hold his head down, instead moving away as quickly as before.

Sherlock, despite himself, moved forward and, with more caution than Mycroft was showing, slowly reached out towards Alex. “Don’t… my brother is a bully who’s never got to act on it before, he wants you to react, he wants to know he’s getting to you both.”

ALEX

The voice on the speaker system, though tinny and filled with statics, cut to her core. It was the first time she had heard him on over a week, since she had left him to hopefully restart his life. There had been a small chance he would still relapse, but with a crushed phone and no friends it would be difficult. At least harder. Alex had put off leaving as long as physically possible. Even worse, she had excused the insults hurled at her in the name of grief and pain. She had sat outside the locked door that allowed him to cry, to feel something for the first time in years outside of pride. She was as loyal as a dog, and had been treated like one. Maybe that was why she was always so keen to jump to his defence.

Her brother made jokes like he couldn’t be intimidated, rule 101 of getting under your interrogators skin. She didn’t really register she was holding her breath, but the audible smirk in his time had her on edge. She had been there once. Maybe she couldn’t watch this. For a moment the nausea was too much, yet right as she was about to look away and focus on Mycroft, he seemed to move to the corner of the room.

Alex moved closer to the glass to get a better look. “What the fuck is he-“ And there, right as he placed his hand on the bags she knew that look. She had seen it too many times in her nightmares. Right as they pressed the knife to her skin, right as the carved along her rib cage with the branding she would bare for life. The sign of someone enjoying pain in others.

“NO.” It was guttural, almost like a scream but low and animalistic. But their booth was soundproofed. None of it would carry through to the interrogation room itself. She hovered, wondering how many bodies she would have to leave in the hall to get into that room. If Mycroft had turned the cameras off, he didn’t want to be disturbed. “He’s a person, not a fucking pressure point. If he kills him, I swear to god-“

SEBASTIAN

The door shut, trapping him and whoever this was in the room together. He had to imagine it was a Holmes. Wouldn't that make sense? In fact, he rather hoped it was - that'd make the experience better. A regular interrogator wouldn't have the same attachment to the situation and that'd just be tiring. Something was happening over further from the corner. He couldn't quite tell what, but footsteps approached once more and he decided to concentrate more on that.

Which turned into concentrating on just how hard his face had hit the metal table - definitely metal, the way his nose ached and dripped blood onto the hood and down over his mouth. He grunted at the impact, unable to cushion himself in any way, given that his wrists were currently attached to the table. He sat back up slowly. Must have turned the cameras off, then. Oh well. Seb didn't want a rescue anyway. He felt a little bad about abandoning Rich, but he was resourceful enough to find someone else for protection. If Seb died here, that was better than a box of a cell deep underground.

He hacked a little to clear his throat. "That wasn't much of a defense. Didn't your mother teach you violence wasn't the answer?" Sure, Sebastian's probably had, even if he'd clearly ended up ignoring such advice. "Very big of you to attack a man who's tied down. I can't even see your face. Makes me think you're too much of a coward to kill me. Not even interested in having the option on the table?"

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

"He won't," Sherlock assured her, quite confident in that, "but he won't make this easy for either of you." His arm remained stretched out, only inches away from her arm, having there.

Mycroft continues his silent vigil around the table. Suit jacket off, neatly hung over the back of the other chair, he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. It wasn't just Seb he saw in that chair. It was all of them; every Moran, every criminal, every terrorist who cannot think further than their own bank account. At least the terrorists believed in something. His mind moved in a similar direction as her brothers; he had no time for men who made a sport of violence. They all had it within them; the spark that causes bar fights after too many beers. Intelligence sorted the men from the boys. Only he wasn't in the mood to be an Oxford man today. Moran would suffer and in that moment, he may have time to think about all the people that suffered because of him.

"I imagine it's the same sort of feeling when you shoot a man from a hundred meters through a telescope," Mycroft said finally, his tone steady. "Skins not really in the game but it's still satisfying."

ALEX

“No.” It was quieter this time. Soft and barely audible. Spoken as you would a prayer. Maybe that was the true meaning, the true weight to her words. She wanted to take it back. They sounds suck like honey in her throat, on her tongue, knowing whatever was about to happen she had technically agreed to. On paper. None of this was supposed to be happening. She didn’t pull her eyes from the bag, now stained with what alex would assume was the blood of a gushing nose. She could hear all of it, crackling over the sound system and yet she was doomed to watch.

It was sitting in a cell listening to AJs screams all over again. It was beating her fists bloody against a door, handcuffs cutting away at her wrists in the struggle to make them stop...

This was all achingly familiar. Even the way he took his time to roll up his sleeves, the careful folds as to keep his image clean. It certainly wasn’t his shirt. “He’s enjoying it Sherlock. Look at him. Look at your brother and tell me that’s fair.”

She glared back to him for a second, trying not to let the desperation show. She still had her pride, but not for long.

SEBASTIAN

Not much in the way of conversation, then. Sebastian was patient, but he was patient mostly on rooftops or on hillsides. Times like these, a lack of engagement grated on him. Couldn't let it show, though. Maybe that was the one nice thing about having a bag on his head. Still, he'd rather have it off. For all that he was seemingly relaxed, the back of his mind was still very aware of the time he'd been here, the time he might have left, the fact he couldn't see the man's hands.

"Satisfaction of a job well done, maybe." Was this the same? He didn't think so. "You are gloating. The job's not done yet, and that's still what you're doing. Sure," he gestured vaguely, the handcuffs clattering as he did, "you've got me here. Well done. You're not finished, though. I am still very much your problem for the foreseeable future. I've got all day - do you?" Sebastian might not talk much most of the time, but when he had a captive audience and time to kill, he could get going well enough.

"Now if I wanted to gloat, I'd tell you that the satisfaction comes from the seconds before the bullet makes impact. You watch them through that scope and it's up to you to decide whether they live or die - or for me, at least. I'm good enough not to miss. And then once you've pulled the trigger you've got a few seconds where the bullet's flying through the air and you really are God. Only you know what's about to happen, and with complete inevitability, it does." He shook his head, wincing a little at the motion. "It's not comparable, this and that. The satisfaction isn't that they know who did it - I don't have to stand in front of my target and tell them it was me. If you don't gloat at me, I'll never know who was responsible - that's where your satisfaction comes from - the knowing. Your skin's more in the game than you want it to be, I think."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

Sherlock clears his throat, lowers his hand. "Mycroft... my brother believes that Moriarty was, likely indirectly, involved in the attack that cause Bridget... Mycroft's wife... she's not been the same since. Your brother is linked to... a part of the organisation that got our neice killed, that destroyed his wife, that had got some of Mycroft's best agents killed. This isn't just fair in his eyes, it's just." Never make decisions until you have all the facts. Even then, have an exit plan. Begrudgingly, Sherlock had always followed that advice, even though it came from his father.

Mycroft, through the one-way-glass reached forward and pulled the bag from Seb's head, only holding the corners with finger and thumb, then folding it neatly in his hands. He was careful to stand away from the man. He might hate the hitman but he was more than a little aware of his abilities. "For you? I have all week. And you can take that as a compliment, Moran. I have been aching to have you in that chair. But not before I knew I had you. And I do have you."

He smiled, surely satisfied. "I have removed all walls between us. We can be open and honest now. Moriarty is dead. Your cousin August is protecting my little sister, your cousin Sebastian is serving time at her majesty's leisure and your sister-- well, she recognised a losing side what she saw one."

ALEX

“He’s not in his right mind. You know that. I fucking told you, the night he tried to...” This wasn’t right. Her brother was rattling on with some speech about playing god, when none of it mattered. “You put him in there. You found him, let him in the room with Mycroft, How could you?”

The deck was stacked against her from the start and she was only just starting to realise it. Her head snapped back to the scene in front of them at the mention of August- that was new information too. Mycroft had used the words untraceable less than 24 hours ago when she had asked where on earth her family was. And Bash? In prison? All those demands seemed futile now.

“This is a fucking game to him and- a-and...” and what? She moved to the door, grasping at the handle and forcing it down. And down again. Yet the door wouldn’t move.

This whole thing had been a set up from the start. And her body was full of panic as she scrambled to fill in the blanks.

SEBASTIAN

There went the bag. Finally. He blinked a little in the new light, gave Mycroft a charming smile that was perhaps made less charming by the amount of blood on his face. He'd have to worry about flashbacks later though - and anyway, it was his blood, which was better. He wasn't planning on biting Mycroft, though the temptation was certainly there. "Oh, I do, Mr. Holmes. A whole week just for little old me? You shouldn't have." That gave him something of a timeline, though he was doing his best not to construct one that could be taken away.

A grin. "Have you? I'm very flattered, to be honest. It's very nice to meet you, I'll say. On this end of a scope, of course." Whether or not that was true didn't matter. "You do have me, Mr Holmes, very good observation." His tone as patronizing as could be, though it shifted for the next part. "All tied up, too. You can get closer - I won't bite. Unless you're into that." He looked around the room briefly. "Do you really have me, though? I'd have thought you'd look less tense if that was the case."

Smug bastard. Sebastian would very much like to throttle him, and would absolutely have tried if given the opportunity. "Honest? Don't lie so soon, it'll destroy the rapport you're building. I think we both know honesty only has a small foothold here." And openness? It depended on the information, which - interesting. A cold smile across the table at Mycroft. "She did leave suddenly - I had wondered a little. She did always hate the man. I suppose then it was only a matter of time before the rat jumped ship." August was safe, then. Bash might die. Alex would die if they ever crossed paths. "So did she give me up or did she cling to the notion that I might care about her survival enough to thank her for holding out? I'd love to know just how much to thank her when I see her next."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

Sherlock took a step back from Alex again, his back against the wall, his face full of something like grief, or regret but he didn't excuse Seb. He couldn't. They had gone too far, done too much. "I hunted him down because you asked for his pardon. It's the only reason he is in here." That was cruel, but he wasn't going to take the blame fully for this.

Mycroft considered that, if he wasn't holding all the cards, that Seb's calm would frustrate him. If he really needed something from the hitman, if he was desperate.... but it wasn't like that anymore. Sure, Seb likely had enough information about Jim's web to fill a library but would good was it now? The whole thing was being picked apart, mostly by other criminals looking for their slice of the pie before the party was over. The job wasn't over, he wasn't about to retire anytime soon but this would at least mark the end of the Moran's being a thorn in his side.

"Not something I could say for sure, Moran. Why don't you ask her yourself?" With obvious glee, Myc moves across to the mirror and presses on the button by the side. The room behind the screen lights up. Sherlock, seeing where his brother was heading had backed away into the shadows but he would not be hidden. Mycroft smiled between Alex and Seb. "A nice family reunion, I'm so glad I could witness this. Why don't you tell him what you've done for him Alex? I'm sure he will be ever so grateful."

#epiitaphs #consultingsister #( v: post fall MI6 )#discord thread 010 | winner takes it all #YES I NAMED IT AFTER AN ABBA SONG #AM I WRONG #torture tw #panic attack tw

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underachievers-please-try-harder · 3 years

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Review // Faye Webster - I Know I’m Funny haha

For NME. Read online.

There are few things scarier than playing it straight. Just ask Atlanta’s Faye Webster, the 23-year-old singer-songwriter who’s spent the last seven or so years wilfully defying genre norms, sharing folk songs via left-field hip-hop imprint Awful Records and sneaking alternative R&B in front of alt-rock audiences.

Add to that a self-deprecating streak that’s spawned lyrical gems such as “Even my tears have gone room temperature” (from 2019’s ‘Room Temperature’) and “My dog is my best friend, and he doesn’t even know what my name is” (‘Johnny’, released the same year), and Webster’s subversive approach seems pretty much hard-wired by this point. It’s a combination that’s paid off, too: her last album, ‘Atlanta Millionaires Club’, was the best-reviewed of her career, and ‘Better Distractions’ from this new record was one of Barack Obama’s favourite songs of 2020.

Of course, insouciance and self-deprecation are all well and good under normal circumstances, but what happens when – to quote Cher in Clueless – you’re majorly, totally, butt-crazy in love? The answers lie on ‘I Know I’m Funny haha’, Webster’s fourth, most straight-down-the-line full-length release.

“I didn’t know that I was capable of being happy right now / But you showed me how,” she coos with zero trace of irony on ‘In A Good Way’. ‘Better Distractions’ finds her flat-out lovesick, mooning over an absent lover via the gentle tinkle of piano and sighing slide guitar. On the title track, Webster is desperate to impress her partner’s family at dinner, but takes the titular description as some small consolation.

Wry self-deprecation and biting wit are still hardwired into Webster’s story-telling (‘A Dream With A Baseball Player’ details her teen crush on Atlanta Braves outfielder Ronald Acuña Jr), but overall there’s a level of honesty at play here that she might previously have found alarming. And that conformity extends into her songwriting, which largely finds her sidelining her more experimental impulses to focus on Americana, lounge music and lush, retro-leaning soft-rock.

There are shades of Virginia singer-songwriter Natalie Prass in Webster’s pillow-soft tones, which remain as heavenly as ever, and are particularly bewitching caressing the stripped-back balladry of ‘Half Of Me’. And she sounds even better on ‘Cheers’, her sweetly tremulous delivery contrasted beautifully by the aggression of buzz-saw guitars. While there’s a sense that Webster’s not taking the songwriting risks she once was, this transcendent set suggests sincerity suits her.

#faye webster #i know i'm funny haha #secretly canadian #album review #album reviews #review #reviews #album #albums #nme

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takadasaiko · 4 years

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Growth and Comfort Do Not Coexist (a Veronica Mars oneshot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: When Logan and his Navy buddy get volunteered for the Career Day fair at Neptune High on the same day that Veronica is hired by Principal Clemmons for a case, Logan's two worlds cross with some soul-searching results.

Notes: When I started this series the plan was to keep it as a pretty strict extension of canon, but after going through S4 again I feel like it's more accurate to say that it's a very subtle AU with most of canon intact. Most of the time, you may not even be able to tell, while others I'm going to splinter off a bit more. This is one of those times. I haven't finished the novels yet, but I understand that Logan provides a bit of backstory on how he joined the Navy in the second one. At least in spirit it lined up pretty closely with the head canon I was already getting attached to, so I decided to keep the head canon for this series. I'll try to let you know in any future fics as well if it splits for information I know was provided.

Growth and Comfort Do Not Coexist

One of the countless ironies in his life was that it had been his father that had started him on his love of quoting others to find his own way. It made sense, even if he hated it. An actor regurgitating others' words in his own voice and making a mint of people for doing so, but Logan hadn't stopped with movies. He watched everything, read more than admitted to in his younger years, and stored every word, every syllable that he could away in the library of his mind to work into his own vocabulary. He'd honed a quick wit and sharpened his tongue to a razor's edge of protection over the years. It hadn't defended him at home, but it left him ready to take on anyone outside of those walls willing to come at him. Anger had fueled him and made him deadly to the point that he'd driven off nearly everyone that was willing to challenge him for whatever reason.

Almost everyone, and those rare few that had remained had been his saving grace. All these years later he could acknowledge that. Duncan Kane who had been willing to walk off when he'd crossed that line into total jackassery, Dick Casablancas who had done what he could - if he even knew he was doing it or not - by harassing him out of the deep funks he fell in, and that shining beacon of light named Veronica Mars that had reminded him of his own mortality while simultaneously easing the sting of the wounds inflicted by his life. It hadn't always been easy, especially with Veronica. Aaron may have led him to a love of words, but as Logan closed the door to his convertible - tucked in a line of clunkers and high-end cars that made up the Neptune High parking lot - he knew that he never would have made it this far on words alone. He had always craved support. Needed it. And even after Veronica had left, fleeing the black hole that Neptune felt like at times, he'd found it.

He just wondered what kind of quote he could rattle off that could somehow find peace between his then and his now as he stood looking onto the high school that he'd graduated from, the life that he'd left so far behind in so many ways, but he was drawing a blank. No, this was what it was, and really he couldn't even trace it back to a place where he could remember agreeing to this potential powder keg of a day. The order had come down and he'd said yes sir like a good soldier.

"The rest of the squad and I have a bet going on just how much trouble you got into back in the day."

Logan turned to look at Dave Riley, one of the very few people on the planet that he would be willing to die for. He straightened, showing himself to be a good three or four inches shorter than Logan and skinny as hell. His strawberry-blond hair and green eyes that were too big for his freckled face gave him an air of innocence that Logan knew he used to his advantage. That Midwest drawl did it too. People always underestimate him, but Riley had scored even higher than Logan had on the ASTB-E - Aviation Standard Test Battery - which was saying something. He wouldn't have had anyone else watch his back in the air. Thankfully the Navy had agreed when they assigned Riley as his Weapons System Officer.

"Yeah? You really think it's a fair bet for you to weigh in on?"

Riley shrugged and flashed a wide grin that would have put anyone else at ease. Logan knew better. The more innocent he looked, the more shit Riley was likely to pull. "I'm just here to be the honest voice to deliver back anything I learn."

Logan snorted. "Uh-huh."

"Trust issues. You've got them, my friend."

"I've just known you too long."

"Maybe, but you do trust me."

"Doesn't mean anybody else should."

"Maybe I just want to see pre-bottom-of-the-barrel Echolls. They all saw you after you enlisted, but me? I saw you before and it was not a pretty picture."

Logan snorted, the corners of his lips quirking up as he caught Riley out of the corner of his eye. "Weird. See, I thought you were into me, because I kept telling you to fuck off and you kept coming back."

"You wish," Riley chuckled and shrugged. "Seriously though, what was I supposed to do? No telling what you would have done if I'd just left you there by yourself."

"Flunk out and drink myself to death?"

"Yeah, probably."

Logan finally turned to meet those amused, green eyes and his smirk eased out a little. "Rather have you at my back than anyone else."

"Better believe it, brother," Riley answered and reached up, ready for Logan to tap the back of his hand off of his in an old ritual. "You ready to go talk up the Navy to a bunch of teenagers that remind you of yourself?"

"'Originals cost more than imitations.' Suzy Kassem.'"

Riley snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're one of a kind," he chuckled as they started towards the building.

Logan flashed him a broad grin as his gaze swept the parking lot that they were walking through, finally falling on a familiar blue Hyundai that didn't belong there. Or maybe it did. Maybe a student there just had the exact same make and model of car that his girlfriend had. Coincidences happened. Sometimes. In theory, at least.

"Remind me again how we got roped into this?" Riley asked, drawing his attention back around.

"Pretty sure Wallace - Veronica's friend - put in the specific request. He's a teacher here."

"And here I am. Dragged in because of you," Riley sighed dramatically and Logan popped his fist against his shoulder, receiving a shit-eating grin and response dripping with false cheer in return. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!"

"Logan!"

"Speak of the Physics teacher and he appears. Like magic," the man in question muttered, receiving a muffled laugh from his cohort as Wallace Fennel broke into a light jog towards them. "I hear we have you to thank for this," Logan directed at Wallace.

"I just put your name into a hat. No clue what had to happen to get a couple of aviators in."

Logan opened his mouth to take advantage of the oh-too-easy joke that Wallace had left open for him when Riley cut him off. "Technically, he's the aviator. I'm the Wizzo." Okay. So maybe he brought some of his Midwest propriety with him. There was a first time for everything.

"The what?" Wallace asked, tilting his head a little to the side in question.

"Weapons System Officer," Riley clarified. "WSO. Wizzo."

"Because we're in the Navy and we nickname everything," Logan popped off and tilted his head towards the man standing on his right. "Lt. Dave Riley. He literally watches my back."

"I shoot the assholes, Echolls makes sure we don't get shot by out-flying them," Riley added.

"So you're Goose?" Wallace asked.

"Yeah… just with less death."

"What do you need us to do, Wallace?" Logan asked, watching students filing in towards their first classes of the day.

"Are you going to hate me if I tell you that I didn't warn Clemmons it was you?"

"Pretty sure if you had he would have shut it down."

Riley straightened, interest piqued again. "And exactly why would this Clemmons fellow hate you?" It took less that two seconds for Riley to turn that inquisitive look on Wallace and, while Logan knew the man had to be able to keep up with Veronica in order to stay in her life as long as he had, it would have been nice to think that he didn't have to worry about fielding questions all day. There was a reason he didn't intentionally connection his life with the Navy to his life in Neptune with the exception of Veronica. Ah well. No turning back now. Good thing he was well versed in pretending things didn't phase him.

"I got some dirt," Wallace offered.

"And here I thought you came along to have my back," Logan grumbled, his glare sliding towards Riley.

"Always, man, but the rest of the squad is relying on me."

"Yeah, when'd you get promoted?"

"Even the squad leader has to own up," Riley teased, nudging Logan's shoulder as he strode forward. "Whatcha got for me. Wallace, was it?"

Logan did not like the look Wallace wore as he said, "How 'bout a trade? I'll tell you about the time Logan and one of the other guys from our class put the lit teacher's car on the flag pole -"

Riley's grin only broadened. "On?"

"On," Wallace confirmed, "if you tell us his call sign. Man will notshare. Can't be that bad, right?"

Logan snorted and started back towards the buildings, hearing a far-too-amused Riley agree to the terms and Wallace's story began. This was going to be a trip.

---------

Some days being a PI was exciting. An unexpected client dropped into the office with an interesting story, lots of holes in it that they didn't think you could possibly discover, and a whole puzzle to solve. And then other days it was your old high school principal who showed up with the Case of the Missing Lockbox. What was in the lockbox, she had no idea, just that it was connected to Career Day - she had zero recollection of having a career day at Neptune High. Wow. - and that it mustbe found.

And it was. Almost before Clemmons had finished rattling off his explanation of just how important it was. There was something in that someone needed and he needed…. Really, she'd lost track. Whatever the reason he wanted it, she found it hidden under a loose floorboard in the gym. The rest was history as soon as he'd signed and handed her the check. As soon as she found where Mac had gotten off to, she had no interest in sticking around.

At least until she spotted a very familiar figure standing at the Navy booth talking to an excitable teen about the F/A-18 Hornets that he flew.

Veronica felt her lips turn up at the corners without permission as she inched forward, waiting behind him until the kid was gone. "Take me to bed or risk losing me forever," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

Logan turned, cringing as he did. "I swear, if I never hear another Top Gun reference today…."

"You can live a long and happy life?" she offered.

"Exactly. What are you doing here? I thought I spotted your car."

Veronica leaned against the booth, never breaking eye contact. "Oh, you know, solving cases. Stopping crime. Paying the rent." She waved the check in her hand in front of him.

"One of the kids steal something from Clemmons?"

"You know they did, but I fixed it." He snorted a laugh and Veronica cracked a full grin. "Wallace rope you into this?"

"He did. I'm a good friend. Please feel free to remind him of that at any and every possible moment."

She felt her playful smile soften a little, but a voice broke in from the other end of the booth. "Hey, V!" Riley called, offering a wave when she looked over.

"Look at you standing on two legs," Veronica returned and motioned at the potential recruits. "Ask him how he broke his leg a few months ago. Go ahead. Ask him."

"You're not helping," her boyfriend grumbled with feigned irritation.

Veronica turned back to look at him. "So you and Wallace are friends now?" she asked, circling back around to their conversation. "I like the sound of that."

"I like Wallace. I may have even won him over with this one. It's Mac I'm hesitant about. What'd I do to her?"

Veronica cringed a little. "I think it was Parker."

"Seriously? She knows Parker broke up with me, right?"

"There was something about me involved, I don't know. She's around here somewhere bolstering the campus security. You'd have to ask her."

"I think I'll leave it as one of life's many mysteries."

She laughed, inching in. Hell, she did love him in those Navy whites. Her hand reached forward of its own accord, fingers touching the fabric there and ready to curl into it to pull him closer to her, but he caught it before she could. "I'm technically on duty."

"You're technically on duty when you get home from deployment and haul me off the deck to kiss me," she reminded him, her voice low and he'd have to be an idiot to miss her meaning. Logan Echolls was a lot of things, but an idiot wasn't one of them.

"They give me some leeway there. Not so much when I'm telling kids why they should enlist."

"You telling them to get shot at for a living?"

"Hey, now. Technically I have never gotten shot."

"And you've jinxed yourself."

"It's really not as likely if they're on the ship," he answered, his smirk more cocky than she would have liked. She knew all too well that they had come under fire.

"You're not funny."

"Seriously? I hear you find me hilarious."

Veronica held his gaze, those perfectly thin lips of his stretched out into a smile that made her want to drag him back to some secluded corner right then and there, but she knew she couldn't. He couldn't. Or wouldn't. For all of Logan's flippancy towards authority in their youth, he'd found something sacred in the Navy. She wasn't sure if it was the authority, per se, or something deeper that was just reflected there. He'd grown up alone in many ways, even before his parents had died, and certainly without the usual limitations that most children received. He had never told her the full story of how he'd tumbled into the Navy of all things, but her working theory was that it had something to do with the structure and direction that it provided.

Whatever the case, he loved it. His job, his squad, every inch of it. He didn't just love it, he respected it, and for that reason he would respect the fact that he was there to represent it. Oh, if only sixteen-year-old Logan could see himself now. What would he say?

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mars," he teased, drawing her attention around.

"There was nothing to say that it was inthe gutter, Echolls," she countered, grinning up at him.

"You need a mirror? All the evidence you'll need for - what do you call it? - a money shot."

Her grin grew as her voice dipped. "Usually fewer clothes for that."

"Give me a couple hours," he promised.

Veronica loosed a laugh out on a breath and leaned against the booth, her gaze drifting out to the crowd of kids. They looked like them years before in so many ways. In others, nothing at all. For the first time in a long time she found herself desperate to see the ghost of Lilly Kane dancing through the throngs of students, laughing and teasing and alive. She'd missed so much.

"So, your buddy Wallace told me about the car on the flagpole incident," Riley's chipper voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "but even as spectacular as that is, it couldn't possibly warrant that look."

Veronica followed where he was pointing to see a very nervous looking Van Clemmons standing with Wallace, the principal's gaze fixed on Logan who was chatting with a student.

"Oh, you know, started a few fights, kept getting charged with murders he didn't commit."

"There was more than one?"

"Well, only one in high school," she answered with a shrug. "Looks like you boys may get let go early. Hiya, Mr C."

The principal looked over on his way to the booth, startled and he mumbled something about a dangerous pair. Veronica snorted a laugh and looked back at Riley. "So how do you like the old stomping grounds?"

"It's an experience. Never thought I'd see kids driving Teslas and Beamers nicer than Logan's to class."

She liked Riley, but she didn't often get time alone with him. She wasn't sure if Logan intentionally kept his Navy and his Neptune life a little bit separate, but she did know that as soon as Clemmons could pry his students away long enough from the Navy table he would politely thank the guys for their time and send them on their way. If she wanted to pick Riley's brain at all, now was a chance she hadn't expected. "You guys met sophomore year, right?"

"Yeah. After you left." His gaze slid over to her. "You fishing for intel, Veronica?"

"Just curious. Tell me you didn't sign on to get a few new stories on him."

"Where Echolls goes, I go," Riley answered with a shrug, but as Veronica waited a little of the mirth washed off. He turned to meet her gaze fully. "A few fun anecdotes are one thing, but this? It changed his life. That's his story to tell, V."

She nodded slowly, turning back to find a missing Logan and Mac having appeared at some point, now patiently waiting with Wallace. Wallace started forward. "Hey, Veronica. Didn't know you were going to be here today."

"Missing something or the other," she answered offhandedly. "Where'd Logan go?"

"Not sure. Fair's wrapping up so the kids can get back to class. Clemmons let you guys go early." Wallace extended a hand. "Lt Riley—"

"Just Riley's good, after the stories I got from you." He happily shook the offered hand, his grin returning. "So if Echolls wandered off, who's the lucky volunteer to drive me back to my car at his place? Unless you have extra keys to the Beamer, V. I'd be willing to slum it."

"But would you be willing to stake your life on it if you wrecked Logan's car?"

"Fair."

"We can take you," Mac offered. "If you're parked at their place it's not too far out of the way."

Veronica shot her a questioning look before filing she dug in her purse for her keys and tossed them at Mac. "You two kids be good. I'll grab a ride home with Logan."

She watched Riley turn a funny sort of smile on Mac who fell into step with him towards the parking lot. She would have to file that away in things to figure out later. For now, she had a Logan to track down.

----------------

Veronica had been busy chatting with Riley when Clemmons gave them the all clear to head out - not a huge surprise and probably the reason Wallace had tried to keep quiet who he'd managed to snag out of the aviation department to come in - and he just needed a couple of minutes to work through the thoughts that he'd shoved down below the surface since arriving on the campus. The students had been called back into their classes and had left the halls deserted, Logan standing alone on the school crest with one hand stuffed deeply into his trouser pockets, the other holding onto his uniform cap.

He hadn't been here since graduation, not that many people made an effort at returning to their high schools, but Logan had made even less so. Hell, he wouldn't have bothered with his ten year reunion if Sean Freidrich hadn't released those videos of Carrie to his instagram account. He didn't have a lot of positive memories associated with it. Sure, early on he'd been popular enough. Money tended to do that in Neptune, as did prestigious parents. Logan had had both. Funny, he'd still had to face most of the battles that had rolled in alone. Especially the ones that counted for anything.

"Hey handsome," a familiar voice chimed behind him and he felt Veronica's hands touch the small of his back lightly as she circled around, her smile flirty and light. "Deep in thought about all the scandalous things that happened here?"

"Yep. I'm pretty sure we made out in that corner. That one too. Oh, and there's the infamous women's bathroom that you kept dragging me into."

"You liked it."

"I did."

Veronica circled around him and he couldn't help but feel his smile turned a little more real. Well, one good thing had come out of it all. Her.

"What are you really thinking about?" she asked, her tone a little less teasing now and damn her. She did see right through him, didn't she?

Logan felt his smile even out, the weight of his thoughts settling back into place from their momentary relief. He let the feelings roll around in his mind for a long moment until they got enough traction to form something like words. Another moment or two and they even started to make at least a fraction of sense. "I've been trying to reconcile who I was with who I am," he said slowly, tasting each word as it left his tongue to make sure it was the right one that best coincided with the emotions that had bubbled up like a geisser ready to shoot towards the sky.

Veronica was uncharacteristically silent as she settled in next to him, both standing on the emblem in the middle of the hall and looking down the long stretch.

"I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. It's easy to say I was young and stupid, but I think…. It used to be easier to keep it all separated. Even living here, when I dated Carrie…. It was different. She had no interest in the Navy. The two worlds were completely separate. Riles only met her maybe… two or three times."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was awkward and forced. In the end it was just easier to live two lives, but since you came back it's been… complicated."

He could feel her tense at his side and he risked a look. Well that wasn't a happy look. More of a hurt-desperately-shoved-under-irritation look. "Sorry I complicated things," she groused and Logan scrambled.

"That's not what I mean. I mean, it is, but not like that." He pulled in a breath, trying to find a way to express it in a way that she might be able to understand. "I mean I want Riles to know you. I want you to know him. I want to be friends with your friends and vice versa until they're ours. I just… don't know how to do that without opening myself up for a hell of a lot of shit toted out for everyone to see."

There was another moment of silence from her and Logan shifted from one foot to another, feeling exposed. Finally, he heard her draw in a breath. "'Growth and comfort do not coexist.'"

Logan blinked hard. "Ginny Rometty," he cited, surprise lacing the name.

"I guess? You had it as your voicemail one time. One of your inspirational quotes." Her careful smile flooded him with a sense of warmth. "Seemed to fit."

"Yeah," he breathed.

"I get it," Veronica murmured, looking back down the hall. "When I went to Stanford, I cut ties with everything. I didn't want the two worlds colliding. I never dated anyone for long enough for him to feel like he should meet my dad or anything. To come home. Even with Piz who knew so much of it. I just… kept it separate."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't think I wanted to be that person."

"I love that person."

A small smile tugged her lips out and she reached for the hand still stuffed in his pocket. "Can I ask you something?"

Funny, that question would have terrified him a decade ago, but he heard his response roll off his own tongue without reservation. "Anything."

"Why'd you choose the Navy? I'm glad you did. I've seen…. What it gave you. What it did for you. I just wanna know how you got there."

Logan pursed his lips and considered the question for a long moment. It wasn't the first time she'd asked and she wasn't the only one curious. Just earlier that day Wallace had tried to press Riley for it. Good man Riley. He'd run his mouth about a lot, but not when it counted, and this did.

And because it counted, he knew Veronica deserved to hear it from him.

"I was okay all summer," he started, feeling a little numb as he spoke. "I thought you'd come back. I thought we'd...do what we did back then. Fall apart, come back, try again."

"I transferred."

"Yeah."

"Without telling you."

"I got the hint," he murmured, trying not to sound too bitter. He tightened his hold on her hand in his. "I never really… learned how to process things, I don't think. Not things that mattered. Hell, my go-to when my mom threw herself off a bridge was to hire my best friend's ex girlfriend to prove she wasn't really dead." A mirthless chuckle left him and he felt her tighten her hold on his hand. "I fell apart. Hit bottom. I was on the edge of flunking out, drinking waytoo much, and then this asshole sat down at my table in the cafeteria and just started babbling on about the design of a jet. Honestly, I was so hungover I couldn't tell you what jet he was talking about. All I remember is telling him to fuck off and he thought it was hilarious."

"Riley," Veronica said softly and Logan nodded.

"Riley. He's a stubborn bastard. He kept on me until somehow we became… friends, I guess? Something close to it. Found out later we'd had a class freshman year. The one Wallace and I had where I lost the bet and went streaking through it?" Veronica snorted a laugh at that. She had rolled her eyes pretty hard at the time. "He saw something, through all the bullshit. I don't know why or how, but he had… faith. Ended up convincing me to join ROTC and it was the first time I think I really found structure in my life. I always thought it'd be exhausting but it was… nice, somehow. Not just some assholes that had no business telling me what to do getting off on it, but these people had my back. I eased off the drinking, got my grades up, and did what I had to to get my wings."

"That's… amazing."

"You hear me say Riley saved my life and sure. In the air, definitely, but before that. He got me in the air."

The bell rang. "I'm glad he did," Veronica said earnestly as the doors started opening all around them and she tipped up on her toes to press the briefest of kisses to his lips before the students started to flood out. "Let's go home."

He nodded, words escaping him in that moment as she took him by the hand and led him towards Neptune High's exit, the chatter following them out.

-----------

It felt like a weight had been lifted off that Logan hadn't even known was there. He had always known what had drawn her into the life she lived, what had driven her to find an outlet for the questions that raged after Lilly's death, but that small, lying voice in his mind had told him that she'd be upset if he explained how he had gotten to where he was. She'd be hurt, thinking that he blamed her for finally scraping rock bottom. Or angry that he had. Whatever the case, it would be his fault and clearly it would drive a wedge between them.

But it didn't. Instead she'd taken it in stride, seeming to be more grateful that Riley had been stubborn enough to help him through it than upset that he'd crashed and burned after she had left. They had both done what they had needed, and they had needed it. As much as they'd loved each other they had been so young and so angry and hurt by the world around them. Jaded and pained in ways they couldn't work through together, not at that point. No, they had had to work on themselves, to find themselves, before they could come back together. And they had. Of course they had. Their story was epic.

Logan pulled the BMW around to park it on the street, brows drawing together at the sight of both Veronica's blue Hyundai and Riley's Mustang. "I thought he'd be halfway back to San Diego."

"Yeah, and I thought my car would be at the office…."

They slipped out of the convertible, finding the steps leading to the apartment empty of waiting guests. Logan heard Veronica's voice and glanced over to see her phone pressed to her ear. "Uh huh. Suuure," she answered with a wide grin. "See you in a sec." She ended the call and motioned towards the beach. "Riley forgot his keys in the apartment and Mac decided to wait with him."

Logan tilted his head and they started the short trek to find his Wizzo and one of Veronica's best friends sitting on a beach towel that must have been in her trunk, deep in conversation. Mac was the first to turn at their approach. "Hi there, Hollywood!" she greeted, her grin quick and mischievous.

And suddenly he knew what the conversation had been about. He locked eyes with Riley whose grin was a bit more sheepish. "Traitor," Logan muttered even as Veronica barked a laugh.

"You finally got it out of him. 'Bout damn time." She turned a clearly fake apologetic look at him. "It's not so bad. You've told me some of the other guys' call signs and they're a lot worse."

"It wouldn't have stuck if he hadn't been such a baby about it early on," Riley chuckled.

"Asshole," Logan huffed without any real spite in his voice.

"Yeah, you love me." Riley stood, brushing off his uniform. "I should head back. Good meeting you, Mac. Loved the story about the scavenger hunt. We should do it again sometime." He glanced back pointedly at Logan. "Cross the streams a little, huh?"

Logan rolled his eyes a little, but he knew the smile inching into place was going to give him away. It was nice to find some weird equilibrium between two pieces of his life. "C'mon. Let's grab your keys."

"Oh, wouldn't you know it?" Riley stuffed his hand deeply into his pocket and returned with his keys. "Oops. There the whole time. See ya next time."

Veronica snorted a laugh as Riley sauntered his way up the beach towards the road. "He's a sneaky little bastard."

"I warned you, " Logan chuckled. "He's been looking for high school stories all day."

"And freshman year of college," Mac offered as she stood, stooping back down to grab the oversized beach towel. "But he does pay well with stories from after you ghosted everyone. How did you stay in ROTC with some of the stuff you pulled?"

Logan flashed her a smug grin and Mac laughed, shaking her head.

"You wanna stay for dinner? We can order Thai," Veronica offered.

"I think we have chicken. I can cook," Logan countered.

"You cook?" Mac asked, the amusement still strong in her eyes. "This I have to see."

"I even know how to wash dishes," Logan countered.

Veronica nodded at the distant figure just reaching the street. "Bet we can grab Riley before he leaves. Swap a few more stories?"

"There's no stopping you now, is there?"

"Flood gates aren't open," she agreed.

"I'll go catch Dave," Mac offered and she was gone before either of them could get a word in.

Logan looked to Veronica, finding those clear and curious blue eyes on him too. "Did she just call him Dave?"

"Pretty sure she did."

"Huh."

They started up the beach towards their friends, Logan risking a glance at the woman he loved out of the corner of his eye and feeling a strange sense of peace washing over him despite what would likely turn into a one-up-manship of stories that evening. Growth and comfort didn't coexist, it was true. It had nearly killed him to find a way to survive everything life has dealt him, He couldn't go back and change the past, and he didn't think he wanted to. Without the struggles he faced, he never would have grown like he had, and that growth had brought him here. It had brought him back to her, and for that he would endure any pain.

-----

Notes:

Hat tip to @his-beautiful-girl_Beautiful_Girl for the Suzy Kassem quote and all of the fantastic folks in the VM Fic Club that were willing to help me find the best quote to use there 3

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VMFanfic #VeronicaMarsFanfic

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borisbubbles · 4 years

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32. AUSTRALIA

Montaigne - “Don’t break me”

youtube

🤡 KLOUN 🤡 🤡 KLOUN 🤡 🤡 I MOU KLOUN 🤡

HA HA HA HA -- Afrodyti Fryda -- Jessica Charro

Normally I wouldn’t be ranking Montaigne this low, actually :o I do feel like there is *some* potential to be had from her entry and it could’ve been reached greatness in Rotterdam, but since ESC has been cancelled, we’re going to see none of it. So, all I have to go by is the live AD version I just posted, which... I lowkey dislike? Let’s dissect this sucker.

Song Analysis

Every once in a while, we get that sort of avant garde-esque entry where I’m like “Okay, I get what you’re doing and I like the idea but the execution, babe. It just ain’t there.” I think “Don’t break me” might be the new textbook example of that archetype? I know some media love portraying “Don’t break me” as... what was the Wiwi headline again?

The problem is, it don’t add up.

Like, what exactly is alternative about this entry? Not the music, despite the statements claiming otherwise. Montaigne wrote this song together with established “indie” songwriters DNA, hits of other ’indie’ miracles “Don’t come easy”, “Tonight again” and “#WeGotLove”. “Don’t break me” is equally indie, that is to say, not indie at all and blatantly mainstream. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, (DBM is hands down the best song DNA have produced for ESC) but don’t sling LIES at me.

Secondly, the staging, we need to address the staging, hunties cuz boy it ain’t holdin’ up. (lol I’m merely channelling Wiwi Adams because that’s what the spirits whisper to me - that is to say, pink gin & tonic). There are some *conceptual* strong points to me, clearly spliced in to fabricate some perception of free artistry, but the execution of it is lacking. In lay man’s terms: IT’S SO FUCKING INCOMPETENT OMG I should stan... but don’t because, well.

Et tu quoque, Sennek?

Montaigne herself said she styled her marionette-frock after mr Mime (Mimes aren’t marionettes? Am I missing something?), but it’s Not Very Effective when your style is more inline with Grundel Toad. YES, One Shot Camera Angle, yes super artsy and creative were it not for the fact that Trijnwreck Oosterhuis already pioneered this and it came off similarly feeble.

I however am not *that* offended by “Don’t break me” or its act as many others appear to be though. Again, the song is decent and it’s mostly brought down by a lack of performing experience on Montaigne’s behalf. While not good, it’s salvageable at the very least.

However, I’m more annoyed that this (decent) mainstream song is being sold as innovative and mold-breaking, neither of which it actually is. This is the root of the problem imo. The utter denial of "Don’t break me’s” own mainstreamness and the desperation to prove the opposite.

And honestly, this even applies to Montaigne herself? Her appearance, creative decision making and hell, even her own social media posts read a bit too much “How To Be Different For Dummies.” to really make it believable. ”I AM ALTERNATIVE. HERE’S MY PORTFOLIO OF UNCONVENTIONAL HAIR COLOURS AND UNIBROW STYLES TO PROVE MY POINT SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO TALK TO ME. WANNA SEE MY ARMPIT HAIR? I JHERI-CURLED IT YESTERDAY.” Her brand of off-beatness feels shallow and uninspired because it is. She being conformist with regards to her own nonconformity and that makes her a bigger slave to societal norm than you and I.

NF Corner

Lol this was not a great Aus Decides. Sadly the standard wasn’t nearly as high as it had been last year. I cheered *FOR* Montaigne at the time, that’s how bad it was. There were several *atrocious, easily last in this ranking had they won”-entries she needed to slay (DIE JACK! DIE MITCH! DIE CASEY!) and she did. A pity my interest very quickly evaporated, but oh well, such is life. Fortunately there were a few... decent-ish entries that I’d like to share. Don’t hold you breath, though - this selection had no Electric Fieldses.

Vanessa Amorosi - “Lessons of Love”

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“Lessons of love” almost completely passed me in studio - I liked it mostly because “Absolutely everybody” was a BOP and I was edging for a good performance, which... Vanessa delivered honestly. CRAWLING OUT OF A CAR CRASH <3 The one-woman vocal bidding war she engages in once the first chorus hits. The rainy drizzle <3 The song’s merely adequate but Vanessa’s affect and the staging are enough for me. A ballad that in fact isn’t boring and provides a host of tiny little gems I can cling onto for three minutes, what a treat!

Now I’m mentioning ballads, (um, this is about Aus Decides 2020; of course ballads are being mentioned), this one was pretty good too.

Didirri - “Raw Stuff”

youtube

“Raw stuff”, like Vanessa’s song, completely passed me by in studio version (except, I didn’t even bother simulating appreciation here - disheveled, homely men aren’t my thing, cf.: Salvador). “Oh a stripped down power ballad with personal meaning” well am I ever not interested?

And then the live disarmed me, lol. I have NO idea why but it just clicked for me. iDidirri managed to give it certain sincerity, a certain pathos that I could empathize with and the staging (which was highkey good - Non-boring piano ballads! The Concept!) provided me with enough sustenance. I also firmly believe that had “Raw stuff” made it to an actual ESC stage, it could’ve won the whole thing - it has that Salvadorian quality, minus the pretence. Alex Callier quaking in his boots rn.

But anyway, the ONE song everybody and their dog loved was of course also a fave of mine. It is, of course,

Jaguar Jonze - “Rabbit hole”

youtube

CHASE ME IN TO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

From pretty much second one Jaguar IMMEDIATELY unleashed her inner psychotic weirdo self, flailed her body around on designer furniture (dislocating her shoulder!!! what a trooper), LITERALLY tore down the walls around her and snagged every wig in the audience. SHE’S A JAGUAR, A MARE, A GAZZELLE

*THIS* how you indie. Not Mundaigne’s safer-than-seclusion puppetfest. You inject genuine personality quirks into your song and performance, don’t give *a single* fuck about what other people think. And like any good indie song, you aren’t rewarded for your nonconformist attitude by “professional” juries. 😁

and now she has coronavirus! STAY STRONG GIRL :( (lol she streamed a jam sessions a few days back, I’m fairly certain she well) WLU!

Australia 2020 & Australia 2021

“Don’t break me” is one of those entries where qualification *entirely* depends on how good or bad the live was. Usually you can tell whether X will (not) qualify UNLESS their live is much worse than expected (or better if they’re a projected NQ). This does not apply to Montaigne; The “Don’t break me” we saw at Aus Decides definitely *would* have NQ’d, but who knows about the modified, improved version. It could’ve Katherine’d itself, it could’ve Sennek’d itself, it could’ve KMH’d itself. Who the f knows and I ain’t gonna spec on it. What I do know is that the subpar singing and dancing would not be present in the final product because, you know, rehearsals. The real hurdle for “Don’t break me” was something different: namely Montaigne herself and her compulsion to break the mold by not breaking it at all. All the decisions w/r/t the staging and styling can be traced down to her and these decisions suck because they are being made for the wrong reasons. Like, you don’t *NEED* tryhard symbolism when your (actually pretty goodish) song already possesses good and transparent lyrics. It’s okay to be MAINSTREAM, Montaigne, it is OKAY to be Mundaigne. Don’t let your ego get in your way. LOVE YOURSELF, sweet Jessica and BE YOU!!! For all our sakes...

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

Australia deserves a few senheads, I think. Not many because, yep, a whole NF with self-composed songs and they STILL went for the ballad that had a DNA co-writing credit. SIGH. However, I do believe the *funk* of Montaigne’s ordinary uniqueness, and how it bled into mainstream indie song, is kind of a Freaky! thing (it’s similar to how Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic”, a song about irony, contains zero examples of actual irony - which ironically enough makes it one of the most ironic songs ever penned), if a severely diluted one. Oh well, beggars cannot be choosers, I guess.

Score: 1 Senhits out of 5.

#Eurovision #Eurovision 2020 #Eurovision Song Contest #Australia #Montaigne #Don't Break Me

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littletonoemotion · 5 years

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이 태민: The Moonwalker Pt. 3

Part 3 has arrived, though it was terribly late! I’m fairly certain that this will be the last part, unless people request otherwise. Thanks for showing this little fic a lot of love! It feels really nice whenever I log into Tumblr and there’s a new like or something. ^^ Remember! If there’s anything you want to see from me, I always have inspiration for writing and I’m always willing to take requests.

If you’re a little shy or nervous; literally don’t be. I’m multi-fandom trash, so I’ll write for pretty much every group and in pretty much every genera, style or whatever the heck you’re into. XD Enjoy!

“So, how many dates is this?” Taemin asked, sipping his espresso with a content smile, almost a little smug.

Je Kyo rolled her eyes. “Zero. A full zero dates.”

“You’re so mean!” he whined, setting down his glass. “We’ve been hanging out like this for months!”

She shrugged. “Yup. We’ve been getting up at unholy hours to hang out just because you’re afraid of the dark.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark! I told you: it’s a condition. Like, a serious one. You wouldn’t want to see me like that.”

She gave him a look. “Sure thing, dude. Whatever you say.”

He huffed, “You’re so difficult. But back to my original point! These are clearly dates!”

She shoved him playfully across the table. “In your dreams, pretty boy!” She settled back into her chair, a comfortable booth seat in a cozy cafe. She looked out of the window, admiring how the city looked with the sun barely up. “It’s pretty, yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I am pretty nice.” She shot him a glare, making him laugh. “I’m kidding! Of course, I’m kidding!” He took a deep breath, composing himself. “Yes, it’s a very pretty view.”

She smirked. Now was her chance! After all the teasing from the strange man that had walked into her flower shop a few months ago, she could finally get back at him. “Not as pretty as you,” she said, flashing him a winning smile. She topped it off with a wink.

He froze for a moment. There were no witty comments, no rolling of the eyes, no awkward chuckles. Just him, sitting across from her, his cheeks dusted pink and his eyes wide.

Je Kyo snorted, narrowly avoiding hitting her latte when she collapsed in laughter. “Your face!” she laughed. She didn’t even care about people staring at her at this point. She was having too much fun. “That was priceless!” She pulled out her phone, snapping a quick picture.

He pouted for a full minute before he finally spoke again. A smile made its way onto his full lips. “I win,” he said.

“What?” she asked, sliding her phone back into her coat pocket.

He looked proud of himself. “I win!” he repeated. “This proves your undying love for me! You even took a picture of me, which, let’s be honest, you’re gonna be using as your lock-screen for a long time.”

She dipped her fingers in a glass of ice water, flicking the leftover droplets at him. “You ever heard of ‘teasing’ or ‘joking’, you dork? That’s what that was—not a love confession! I swear, you’re so socially ignorant sometimes.”

A few drops fell from his chin. “Sure,” he chuckled. He grabbed a napkin, wiping his face. “Believe me, you’ll fall for me one day—Je Kyo? Are you okay?”

She quickly shook her head, trying to draw herself out of her own all-consuming thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said quickly. “Just staring at something.”

That, in itself, wasn’t a lie. She just hadn’t told him what it had been.

She must’ve been seeing things, right? Things like that didn’t happen to normal people. A certain ethereal glow to the eyes, a glitter like sparkles or moon-dust.

Though...

She’d thought for months now that Lee Taemin was far less than normal.

The memory played in her head over and over again, like a song on repeat. So that’s when she’d fallen for him, huh?

It wasn’t often that there were times like this in her life. Quiet moments that she could enjoy all to herself and roll her eyes at the cliche feeling of the whole thing. She always felt a sense of irony when she had a moment of peace, considering how rare it was.

Though, her peace was different from most people’s. What’s new?

When people think of calm, they think of sunsets and ocean waves, mountain tops and whispered ‘I love you’s, raindrops on windowpanes.

For her, ‘calm’ was a glass of tea, bought on sale at the convenience store. It was late nights, warm days with cold breezes, and her son fast asleep in their home, unaware of how cruel the world could be.

She wanted to keep him safe from that as long as possible, or at least give him hope that things got better. But how could she do that when she barely believed it herself?

Je Kyo stirred a spoonful of honey into her mug. The twilight looked rather lovely shining in through the slightly cracked window at the back of her apartment.

Despite how pretty the scene was, Je Kyo had come to dread twilight for one reason and one reason only. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her beating heart and racing thoughts. She just wished her anxious feelings would go away.

But somehow, even though there were butterflies of unfounded nervousness in her stomach, she’d never felt calmer. In a way, she felt accepting of the strange feeling.

She glanced back at Dongin, sleeping soundly on the rock-hard, dreadfully uncomfortable couch they called their own. A small smile graced her chapped lips.

“You goof,” she mumbled even though he couldn’t hear her, lost too deep in the land of dreams. She walked over to him, wiping the corner of his mouth with her sleeve. “Drooling all over the place... Nasty,” she chuckled.

There was a knock on the door, gentle and held with an easy rhythm. She opened the door without checking through the peep-hole; she really didn’t need to. “Tea’s in the kitchen,” she said.

“Not even a ‘hello’?” Ah-In chuckled.

Je Kyo shut the door behind her, careful to be quiet with it. “Sorry,” she said. “I just really want to get this off my chest. Preferably as fast as possible.”

Her neighbor nodded, ever-understanding. “All right, then.” They both ended up settling down on the fire escape, not wanted to wake up Dongin. “So, what’s up?”

Je Kyo took another glance at the sky, her headache worsening. She let out a heavy sigh. There was no backing out of it now, was there? “Have you noticed me acting a little strange these past few months?”

Ah-In nodded slowly. “If I’m being honest... Yes. You haven’t really been yourself, though I can tell you’ve been trying to mask it.”

She let out a bitter chuckle. “Guess it didn’t work all that well then,” she joked. She shrugged, taking a quick sip of her drink. “Well, what can I say? I tried.”

“Did you bring me here just to tell me that?”

Any trace of a smile left her face, but even then, she didn’t look sad. She didn’t look distressed, she didn’t look angry—she just looked numb. She didn’t meet her eyes, staring off into the distance, her eyes scanning over the cityscape. “Innie,” she started quietly, “I think I’m going insane.”

A breeze rushed by them, blowing their hair and buffeting their thin cardigans. Ah-In’s hoop-earrings acted as a sort of wind-chime. Je Kyo almost chuckled at the added atmosphere. What a movie-like scene, she thought.

Ah-In stared at her. “What?” It was more of a gasp than a question. Not even a gasp, just a breath, lost in the wind like a wisp of lost time or memory.

Je Kyo took another sip. “Insane,” she hummed. “You know? Crazy, mad, deranged, demented, unhinged, lunatic—you get it. I’m just not in it anymore.”

“In what?”

She thought for a moment. “Life, I guess,” she finally settled on. “For the past few months, I’ve been hearing voices and even though they freaked me out at first, now I’ve gotten used to them.” She chucked, tugging mindlessly at a strand of hair. “That’s not really normal, huh?”

She dripped a finger in her tea, stirring the liquid slowly. The subtle warmth felt nice against her skin. “The voices have gotten more and more... Enticing, you know? Like they’re calling me towards them, and honestly, I barely have the strength to tell them ‘no’ anymore.”

She looked over to her friend, a sad smile on her face. “You know, if it wasn’t for you and Dongin, I would just kill myself.” She could feel herself tearing up a little bit. She scoffed at herself, smacking her cheek a little. “Well, isn’t that rich? Throwing myself a little pity party over here.”

The whole time, Ah-In had been gazing at her with thick emotion swimming in her eyes. Je Kyo expected pity or concern, but instead, she looked proud. After the initial shock, at least. “You’re not throwing yourself a pity party,” she said. “You’re finally spilling your feelings, and that’s a blessing.”

“It’s a blessing for me to be totally screwed?”

Ah-In shrugged, a smile creeping up her cheeks. “Maybe you’re screwed, maybe you’re not—but either way, you’re not dead yet, are you?” Je Kyo stared at her. “You’re obviously holding onto something, or you would’ve jumped off this building a long time ago. I saw you almost do it when you were younger.”

Je Kyo flinched at the memory. “Not exactly something I look back on fondly...”

“But do you remember how you snapped out of it?”

She brought the mug to her lips. “I kinda blocked it out of my life completely, so no. Please, enlighten me, though.” She started chugging the rest of the drink.

“You found out you were pregnant.”

She paused, pulling away slowly. “That was the day I got the results back, wasn’t it?”

Ah-In nodded. “Exactly.” She wrapped an arm around Je Kyo’s shoulders, rubbing her arm soothingly. “Which confirms my theory. I already knew this, but you care about other people so much more than yourself.”

She scoffed. “Who do you think you’re talking about? Since when have I—?”

“Forever,” Ah-In said firmly. “I’ve never seen you be selfish.”

She shifted a little. “Oh, shush... Flatterer.”

“But despite that, I think it’s time you be a little selfish.” Je Kyo furrowed her brows at her, a question in her eyes. “I think the voices will go away if you do what’s best for you, for once. Not for Dongin, not for me, not for the future. Just for you, in this moment.

This beautiful present that you never get to spend enough time in.” She turned to look at the setting sun. “Because... Despite how shitty people can be, ‘right now’ is actually pretty beautiful.”

Je Kyo snorted.

“Why are you laughing?” Ah-In whined.

She covered her mouth, trying not to draw any attention from the people walking down below. “Y-you swore!” she said through muffled giggles.

She crossed her arms. “You think I don’t swear?”

“Not what I said.” There was a pause. “But totally what I was thinking.”

Ah-In gave her a light shove. “Je! I’m trying to help!”

She grabbed her friend’s hand. “I know.” She gave it a quick peck. “And I thank you.” She stood up, crawling back into the apartment through the window. “Can you watch Gin for a little while?”

“What?” Ah-In leaned her head in, watching Je Kyo toss on her shoes and a jacket. “Why? Where are you going?”

She opened the door, giving her friend and son one more look before stepping out. “To be selfish.”

Je Kyo sat at the bus-stop, kicking her feet back and forth childishly. The city was dark and quiet, it felt like she was the only one there. It was eerie, in a way.

The moon was full and bright in the sky, giving minimal light to the dark streets. It was moments like these that made Je Kyo wish that the neighborhood council weren’t so lazy with their plans for streetlights. Yet... She wasn’t afraid.

She was prepared for anything that was to come.

“Why’d you ask to meet here?” A familiar voice came. It was gentle and smooth and completely unmistakable. It was one she had, unintentionally, become quite attached to. “I told you that nighttime was a bit of a no-no for me.”

She turned around. There was Lee Taemin, standing there with his hood up, hands in his pockets and full-length pants on. That basically confirmed her theory. “I asked you to meet with me because I figured it out.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Figured what out?”

“You.” She stood up, walking closer to him. “I figured you out.”

He backed up a few steps. “What’re you—?”

She tugged his hood off and pushed him into a patch of moonlight. Her breath almost got taken away. “I knew it,” she whispered. “You’re a moonwalker, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

In the moonlight, Lee Taemin barely looked human anymore. His eyes shone with a sort of glowing opalescence, he looked almost transparent and his hair dripped with light, literally dripping onto his shoulders and leaving a trail in its wake.

He was shocked at first, but his face quickly relaxed. “So you figured it out, huh?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” She took in a shaky breath, putting her hands in her pockets. “I noticed.”

“You don’t seem shocked.”

She shrugged. “I’m more shaken than I seem, I promise.” She breath came out in thick plumes in front of her. Why did tonight have to be so cold? It didn’t help make her any braver. “I just can’t believe a moonwalker’s really here. Like, that they really exist.”

He shuffled. “Are you disappointed?”

She thought for a moment. “A little, yeah.” He looked at her, eyes wide. “I’ve been lying to you. Not for long. Only for about a month.”

“...About what?” he asked.

She sighed. “I’m seriously in love with you. But now, I’m just disappointed because I’m realizing that none of it was real. You’re just trying to take me away from my son.”

He shook his head. “No! That’s not what I—!”

“You only got close to me so you could feed on my loneliness, put voices in my head and eventually steal me away... You’ve been lying to me way longer than I have to you.” She hadn’t even noticed her tears that were dripping against the cracking pavement.

She was more emotional about this than she’d expected.

He took a step forward. “Je Kyo, I—”

She cut him off, “I’m just sad because my on-going theory about humanity is being proven correct once again.” She laughed bitterly. “People suck. Big time.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Well, guess what?” She met his eyes, determination burning in her own. “I’m not going to let you take me away.”

He sighed. He took a few more ginger steps forward. “I’m not... Going to take you away. Where did you hear that rubbish?”

She took a step back for every step he took forward. “All the stories!” she snapped. “There’s never been a good story about you people! It’s all freakin’ gloom and doom!”

He kept advancing on her. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to believe everything you read?”

She balled her fists. “My parents didn’t stick around long enough to teach me that particular lesson, no.”

“I’m not going to take you away from Dongin. From your life.”

There was an anxiousness growing in her stomach that only grew when her back bumped against a wall. They were inches apart. Not even inches. Mere centimeters. The strength left her. She couldn’t feel angry anymore. Just there. “...Then what’re you going to do?”

His hand trailed slowly up her arm, giving her goosebumps and leaving his glow in a path leading upwards, the shape of his slender fingers. “Make you less lonely. That’s what it says in the stories, right? Do those damn stories ever specify how?”

She felt stiff. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Maybe she didn’t even want to. “No, I supposed they don’t,” she muttered.

“We do it by giving you lonely humans what you’re lacking.” He paused. “Love.”

She frowned. “But it’s not real. If it’s not real, I don’t want it.”

He shook his head. His eyes looked somewhat pleading. “No, no, no—it’s so real, I promise! For most moonwalkers, yes, it’s done for the purpose of their existence, but you and me... We’re something special.”

She looked away from him. “How am I supposed to trust you? Believe that this isn’t just because of your flippin’ otherworldly purpose?”

He thought in silence for a moment. “Because this is how I feel right now.” He brought his hand to her cheek.

She flinched, but immediately relaxed against his palm. She didn’t know what she was expecting, really. She had thought that the glowing essence he possessed would feel somewhat cold, like the moon looked. “It’s very... Warm,” she said quietly.

He nodded, trying to smile a little. “Very warm. Because I’m nervous.”

She met his piercing gaze. “Nervous?” she echoed. “Why?”

“Because of you,” he chuckled. “I feel like a child around you... I get so fluttery and all over the place, all I can do is tease you some days. All because I don’t know how to deal with myself.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Some divine being I am.”

He examined her face. So close to his. So tempting. “You know...” he whispered. “I’m sure if I kissed you right now, my knees would buckle.”

Her cheeks felt hot. She didn’t know if it was because of his hand against her cheek or something else, but all she could do was shake her head. “Don’t lie to me, please.”

“I’m not,” he said. He sounded so sincere. “When I first came into your flower shop, I was just there because of my instincts—because of what my ‘programming’, for lack of a better word, told me to do. But soon, when you took me to all those cafes and fast food places and thrift shops, I started missing your laugh when I wasn’t next to you. Your witty quips, your casual and hardworking nature, your dedication, and your smile.”

She shifted her weight. “That’s... Specific.”

He found himself leaning closer. “Do I need to list more? I have thousands.”

“No, that’s... That’s quite enough.”

His lips brushed against hers, making both of them shiver. “May I?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “The anticipation is killing me.”

With this one answer, she could make the decision for herself whether or not to be lonely anymore. She could have it all, if she wanted. Her son, her friend, her crappy job, her chill twilight hours and the guy that she’d fallen head-over-heels for.

Would that be too selfish?

Well... She came out here this cold autumn night to be selfish. Might as well go all the way. If it ended up breaking down eventually, that was fine. Even the brightest thing in the world, like the sun, sets at some point.

With a deep breath, releasing all the fears and tension and hatred she’d been holding onto for years, she whispered, “Hell, yeah.”

THE END

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freunwol · 6 years

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theory: freud is chronica is evan??

and this isnt just desperation i have proof

warning this is long as balls

Transcendent related

His disdain for transcendents not barring him from using time magic to seal off travelling prior to that point, which would require him to call upon Rhinne….unless he can do it himself.

Some transcendents reincarnate. *some.* And none of the ones we know of now do that, to our knowledge. So why would they just throw that tidbit in if it’s not relevant? Coughevancough. (relevance explained in heroes section*)

Freud was able to regain a memory that there was a sixth hero. Luminous, the one who is part transcendent, did not. Black Mage remembers Eun because, in his words, he is a transcendent. It’s possible that it is in fact because he made up the plan, but you think you’d remember almost giving up your entire existence for a spell, Lumi? And then suddenly not having to?

Of course there’s the possibility that Lumi’s lying about forgetting or that BM was lying about remembering because of transcendence but that’s a whole other can of worms…

I’m not discrediting him making the plan playing into this though, it could contribute and that’s why Freud remembered and not Luminous The Fragment Of The Transcendent That Remembers

Hero related

Prior to Heroes of Maple trying to make Eun’s situation into a curse, he was fully erased from history. Not only from memories, but from the physical situation of existence, given that he is erased from photographs and any trace of him left behind is erased as well. This is different from a curse, and even with Lucid’s help, Black Mage likely wouldn’t be able to literally obfuscate the past. Time powers could, and if Freud were Chronica his spell would be directly related to time.

Plus it is already, since it stopped anyone from travelling prior to that point.

If that were the case, wouldn’t this make recovering Eun’s existence next to impossible since you can’t change anything relating to the past anymore?

Even making it a curse it’s applicable, if just an extremely powerful curse. I can’t quite logic this part to much beyond pure speculation, but I do think that Freud had much more to do with the effects of this, considering that it was his spell.

Freud said himself that he remembered that there were six heroes since he himself designed the sealing spell!

*Relating to Evan and reincarnation. It’s an obvious conclusion to make that Evan is his reincarnation given that they look alike. It’s made more obvious by a direct connection that Evan does have to Freud- through Mir. Mir was Afrien’s egg, and thus probably(/definitelycuzalltheotheronyxdragonsgotmurdered) his child, and was intended to reinstate the soul bond. A reincarnation and the son of the guy who had a soul bond with the prior incarnation, it makes too much sense to be a coincidence and literally everyone knows it.

Lumi cited Freud as his intellectual match, and the only person ever to be such.

Mirror World related

This one goes in a few different places, so bear with me. In the Zero storyline, Alpha finds the transcript explaining transcendents that states that Rhinne and Alicia were “content in their roles”, and that Black Mage was not and begun chaos because of this. We know for a fact now that Black Mage was not content, not only as a transcendent but as a pawn of whatever greater power exists in Maple World. His methods are of course horrible and he’s the worst yadda yadda but he’s fighting against the system- something Freud is hinted at considering, from his conversation with Lumi. It would make for an interesting perspective, given that he himself is a transcendent, but then it could be that he feels guilty that the transcendence system is causing so much pain and suffering for the world he loves so much, and the only way for it to work is if all three are “content in their roles”, something they are not likely to be.

This is speculation, but it could make sense- could repeated interaction with humans and a closer connection to the world make a transcendent less “content”? We know that White Mage’s intentions were, originally, for the good of the world, trying to reform it into something peaceful, that eventually was corrupted. We also know that Alicia is supremely disconnected from humanity, seeing them as lesser than the other creatures and much worse. This disconnect could make her more content with her existence, with less curiosity regarding humans and the inner workings of the world and more focus on the other creatures. (This may intersect with information about Darmoor, since he’s both the transcendent of life and ruler of the lef he may have gotten too immersed in their life and gotten “discontent?”) Freud, loving Maple world, could have reincarnated himself as a human to learn more about humanity, and is growing discontent with the roles of transcendents seeing its effects as an insider as well as an outsider?

(This is kinda starting to sound like a Jesus thing, being born as a human but also still divine and knowing human pain and all that shit… I’ve jokingly compared him to Jesus before but this is ridiculous if true oh my god this would be the funniest thing if I’m right about any of this FREUD IS JESUS)

BACK TO MIRROR WORLD why was Freud in mirror world if he’s dead? And of all people that we know of? Sure, Phantom and Evan are there, but both of them are connected to those places in some way- Evan grew up in Henesys, and Phantom probably grew up in Ariant. And both are alive. As is everyone else we see in mirror world, younger or older or whatever. So why the fuck is Freud there? We also know for sure that it is in fact all based on the present day since there’s nobody from the past and Leafre isn’t full of demons (used to be demon land but they were forced out…) so why, out of everyone there, is Freud there if he’s dead?

Bit anecdotal, but they did have Freud there in the section where they introduced the idea of relics that help wield the power of the transcendents, and we got Lapis and Lazuli from this.

Could the Freud’s Journal quest somehow be slightly related to this? It’s a stretch, but the ring could be some kind of relic, since restoring it gives you a lil fairy kinda similar to Lapis & Lazuli…

This is a real reach, but in the Mirror World, the chief of Leafre called Freud an explorer, which is what Sugar was before it was revealed she was the spirit of Maple World or whatever…

Speaking of Sugar, do seal stones work into this? I doubt it a little, since you *need* five other people and he likely had those five other people...But then again, that’s quite a fantastic invention to realize how to make… I’m not sure.