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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Endeavour Theory: Has Morse Already Crossed Paths With Nemesis Hugo de Vries?

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Warning: contains spoilers for Endeavour Series 7 and Inspector Morse episode ‘Masonic Mysteries’.

There’s a beauty to mystery that could hardly be lost on fans of Endeavour, a series with playfulness in its bones, as evidenced by its regular tips of the hat to pop culture and Morse creator Colin Dexter. The show’s viewers understand that ambiguities deliberately positioned as such should be allowed to stand, unaccosted by any fun-sucking need for certainty. We’re not here to unweave rainbows or clip angel wings.

That said, Endeavour does love a game, and its fans love to play along. So while appreciating that some things are destined to rightly remain in the hazy hinterland of maybe, let’s play. The name of this game? Find Hugo de Vries!

Played by Ian McDiarmid in Inspector Morse Series 4 episode ‘Masonic Mysteries’ (1990), Hugo de Vries is a fan-favourite villain in the world of Morse. Erudite and cultured with a love of classical music, he has much in common with the detective, as is fitting for any two nemeses. A great difference of course, is that de Vries is a diabolical killer utterly without conscience.

Ian McDiarmid as Hugo de Vries in Inspector Morse Series 4 episode ‘Masonic Mysteries’

In de Vries’ one and only Inspector Morse appearance, Morse finds himself framed for the murder of a woman from his choir, which is staging a production of Mozart’s The Magic Flute. After the murder, Morse finds almost £100,000 transferred to his bank account from the charity administrated by the victim. Morse’s personal file on the police computer is hacked to insert a fictional past event in which he supposedly attacked a woman, and his guvnor – McNutt at the time – covered it up. His home is set on fire, he’s pulled over and breathalysed after an anonymous complaint is made about his erratic driving, his Jag is vandalised with masonic symbols and McNutt’s dead body is discovered in his bathroom. All of it, realises an increasingly unhinged Morse, is the work of de Vries, who’s borne a grudge against Morse since his sergeant days.

Endeavour being the story of those very days, Inspector Morse fans have been watching the prequel closely for a cameo by the younger Hugo de Vries. After another ‘Masonic Mysteries’ character, Marion Brooke, turned up in Series 3’s ‘Arcadia’, Endeavour writer Russell Lewis was asked in this 2017 interview whether Endeavour would one day bump into de Vries. Lewis replied, “Each thing in its season. I shouldn’t be surprised to see him sooner or later.”

Jump forward four years to a post-Series Eight finale exchange on Twitter when Lewis is asked the same question. The writer’s answer this time is more playful. “Ah, Hugo. Who can say if he hasn’t already crossed our path? He might well have done, of course. On the other hand… ‘Now you see him, now you don’t. That’s de Vries all right’.”

Ryan Gage as Ludo Talenti in Endeavour Series 7

In the spirit of investigation, let’s assess the evidence. Is Lewis just teasing or has Hugo de Vries already crossed our path in Endeavour, namely in the form of Ryan Gage’s Series Seven villain Ludo Talenti?

That name alone may contain all the clue we need. Not only do Hugo and Ludo bear more than a glancing resemblance, but the latter in Latin is the first person of the verb ‘to play’. ‘I play… many talents’ would be an inelegant translation. A better one might include the possible allusion to Patricia Highsmith’s famous conman Tom Ripley, given the epithet ‘Talented’ in his first appearance. Like Ripley, both Hugo and Ludo are master manipulators who charm and inveigle their way to wealth, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake.

To jog the memory, Ludo recurred throughout Series Seven, initially presenting himself as a university contemporary of Morse’s who ran into him after Morse’s wallet was lifted at a garden concert (almost certainly a ruse designed to engineer the ‘accidental’ meeting). Ludo befriended Morse and the pair bonded over a shared love of opera. Ludo’s family is in shipping, he tells Morse, and he travels around raising money for their charitable fund, driven by a pursuit of music and beautiful women.

Endeavour: the Series 8 Finale’s Easter Eggs and Homages

By Louisa Mellor

Endeavour: The Beautiful Poignancy of Series 8’s Last Lines

By Louisa Mellor

When Morse asks him which country he’s from, Ludo is coy, preferring to say he is a “man of the world.” He later tells a childhood story about life during Nazi occupation, which throws up various suggestions but like so much Ludo says, that could well be fiction. For what it’s worth, the saying he cites as from his country, “Do not praise a day before sunset,” is Polish. And what of Hugo de Vries’ nationality? Ian McDiarmid’s accent in ‘Masonic Mysteries’ is difficult to place, though the name is Dutch (borrowed from a famous botanist), and he faked his death in prison in Sweden. (Ludo incidentally tells Morse that he posed as a Swedish policeman on the phone once to track the detective down.) Ludo’s name, it’s revealed in the Series 7 finale, was taken from the gravestone of a 16th century priest on Venice’s San Michele cemetery island.

Ludo Talenti’s priest namesake revealed in Endeavour’s Series 7 finale

To tot up the similarities so far, that’s two criminals, of indiscriminate European origin, around Morse’s age, fluent in the language of classical music and opera, living under assumed names. Both also share a snobbish disdain for the police. Ludo expressed surprise that a man as cultured as Morse would be “a lumpen, plodding petty official” while Hugo sneered at Morse’s colleagues going about in pairs “like low comedians.” They also share a similarly rarefied, Bond Villain-ish way of speaking (Every man has his price, every man, I shall make it my life’s business to find yours,”), and express the same nihilistic attitude. “Life, death, rich, poor, it’s all a roll of the dice, Morse, there’s no reason to any of it,” says Ludo, foreshadowing Hugo’s words when he forces Morse to his knees at gunpoint in ‘Masonic Mysteries’. “He was clever, you see,” Inspector Morse tells Lewis in that episode, “he took one look and knew your weakness right away.” In Series 7, Ludo jokes to Morse that he will find his weakness and exploit it without mercy to his own ends.

What else? The nature of their crimes. In ‘Masonic Mysteries’ Morse tells Lewis that his past encounter with de Vries saw him con Oxford University out of millions of pounds. His scam had a kind of poetry to it – posing as the heir to a Swedish armaments manufacturer, de Vries proposed the building of an institute for peace studies. His later scheme involved stealing money from Marion Brooke’s charitable foundation to frame Morse.

Paperwork from Ludo’s life insurance policy scam. Note the signature.

Ludo’s Series 7 scheme was less poetic, but of a similar flavour. He bought up life insurance policies of people looking for a quick pay out, killed them, cashed in, and disguised the deaths as freak accidents. One such victim was poor Carrie Bright, the cancer-suffering wife of ACC Bright. (In a rather baroque twist, the initials of the locations for each murder spelled out the name L.U.D.O.). Both men wore disguises to do their evil work – de Vries posed as a homeless man to murder Morse’s former guvnor McNutt, and Talenti posed as a healer to gain access to the Bright home and sabotage their Christmas lights, causing Mrs Bright’s death by electrocution. Note in the image above the name of the Executive Director of Ludo’s fake company ‘California Amenity Redemption and Disbursement’ (or C.A.R.D, perhaps another game-play reference…) in the signature on one of his victim’s letters: E. De Vere?

Hugo and Ludo didn’t work alone on their devilish schemes, they each had a female accomplice. Hugo’s was the aforementioned Marion Brooke, a devotee who shared his revenge obsession (Hugo’s the kind of man who makes women kick off their shoes and men open their chequebooks when he enters a room, Morse once told Lewis). Ludo’s was Violetta (played by Stephanie Leonidas), who started a passionate affair with Morse during his holiday in Venice. In the Series 7 denouement, Ludo says that he picked Violetta from the streets when she was 15 years old and “gave her the world,” forcing her to become his co-conspirator in the life insurance murders and the plan to make Morse his “pet policeman”.

On the subject of having police officers in your pocket, Hugo de Vries’ association with Morse’s longstanding adversaries the Masons mustn’t be forgotten. De Vries taunted Morse with his masonic connections, through Mozart’s freemason-themed opera The Magic Flute. There’s no evidence that Ludo Talenti was involved with the freemasons yet, but Endeavour viewers know that they’re in full operation in Oxford at the time.

Endeavour Morse attends ‘The Demon’s Wife’ opera in Venice

Endeavour and Violetta met at a performance of ‘La Sposa del Demonio’ in Venice, an operatic work by Endeavour composer Matthew Slater, which translates fittingly as ‘The Demon’s Wife’. Demons come up a great deal around Talenti and de Vries. “There speaks a devil sick of sin,” Ludo says to Endeavour. “There may not be a devil, but there’s devilry alright, and de Vries…” says Inspector Morse, walking away from Hugo’s burial and doubting whether or not he’s really in the coffin. (De Vries’ name, cryptic crossword fans can’t ignore, shares its first three letters with ‘devil’). And perhaps it just suited his complexion, but Ludo wears deep red numerous times in Series 7, perhaps in echo to de Vries’ burgundy shirt in his sole appearance.

Speaking of that Venetian denouement, did Ludo not die after being shot by Fred Thursday and falling into a canal, putting the kibosh on the ‘Ludo is Hugo’ theory? Well, he was certainly shot, and he certainly did fall into the canal, but did he die, or did that devil live to return and torment Morse under a new name in future adventures? You’ve heard the evidence. What’s your verdict?

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Endeavour Series 8 is available to stream on ITV Hub and Britbox.

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is0gild · 4 years

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 22

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 9,146

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

“Alright, Elsa, you can do this! You're going to get up on that stage and you're going to wow them!"

So all that stuff about me not trying out? Total bald-faced lie. Kudos to any of you who saw right through it. Since, you know… I'm so good at the whole deception thing.

"...alright fine, maybe not wow them, per se… but you can do okay at least, right?"

This was all just for fun, after all. It's not like it was anything important, it's not like it really mattered. It was nothing, just a silly childhood dream. Just one moment, one blip in time that would be over before I knew it. No big deal.

"...passable? Surely, you can at least give me passable!"

Now if only I could convince my reflection of that.

Which, judging by the flat look she was giving me from the mirror on my vanity, was not going too hot.

"Ugh!" I huffed, tossing up my hands and turning away to pace my bedroom floor. "Just try not to fall flat on your face and I'll be happy. Can you just do that much for me? Please?" I snapped, facing my reflection once more.

She scrunched up her nose and gave me a noncommittal shrug.

My shoulders slumped and I hung my head, bracing my hands atop the vanity table. "Look, you've been practicing nonstop since yesterday. And yes, I know what basically amounts to cramming sing-alongs for almost twenty-four hours straight isn't going to make up for the lack of any sort of professional training. Or the absence of any real experience. Or the fact that besides karaoke that one night, you pretty much haven't sung in almost a decade except for maybe a personal concert in the shower once in the blue moon. I know you're going into this blind and have no idea what you're doing and others there will be way better prepared than you and-" I frowned, narrowing my eyes, "...and I had a point. Fudge, what was it again?"

My reflection looked remarkably unmoved by my rallying little speech just now.

"Ah!" I snapped my fingers, face brightening before jabbing my index up against the mirror. "The point was that none of that matters! What matters is you've done the best you could do in the time you had! So worrying about it any further is nothing more than a useless waste of time and energy! So just go on out there, have a good time and… and give it your all!" My hands closed into fists and they made weak, halfhearted thrusts into the air over my head as I gave a tiny, "Woo!"

She just drooped her eyelids at me.

I plopped down hard into my chair with a small growl. "I know I suck at pep talks. Yeesh, you don't have to be so negative!"

I don't know why I even bothered. Reflection Me was always such a downer.

Sighing, I propped my chin in my palm while I brought my other hand up to fiddle with the flower poking out of a miniature vase sitting on my vanity. It was the winter honeysuckle Lea had given me, dried out now because I'd wanted it to last. I toyed with its delicate petals, my fingers gentle so as not to break them. Somehow merely touching it seemed to sooth my frayed nerves and lighten my spirits, even if only just a little bit.

My phone buzzed and I checked it to see that it was a text from Lea telling me he'd arrived and was on his way up. I exhaled slowly. Okay, I couldn't procrastinate any longer. It was now or never. I stood up and made my way over to my bed, on top of which laid the sheet music I'd managed to hunt down after some internet searching. Gathering it up with care so as not to wrinkle any of the pages, I then headed towards my bedroom door.

"Who's a pretty, pretty princess? Daddy is! Isn't that right, jelly-belly-welly-bean?"

The dulcet tone of Rayne cooing down at her own tummy was the first sound to greet me when I walked out into the living room. I blinked, taking in the scene before me as Rayne returned her attention to the, er… "pretty, pretty princess." That is to say, her husband, whose lips were set into a grim line while his left eye gave a little tick. She had him seated in one of the kitchen chairs as she stood behind him, putting the finishing touches on the long braid she'd fashioned his hair into. It was complete with teeny butterfly barrettes, a colorful assortment of flowers weaved throughout, and a giant, frilly bow at the end holding it all together.

More practice for styling her future daughter's hair.

I'd know, since normally I'd be the one sitting in that chair instead of Riku.

Thankfully, it was now his turn to suffer hair bedazzling hell.

"Not one word, Fryse," he grumbled. "Not a single, solitary word."

I held the sheet music up to my mouth, concealing a tiny grin behind it. Then carefully schooling my features, I told him, "I was only going to comment on how masculine and rugged you look this evening."

"Damn straight," he harrumphed, crossing his arms and slouching further into his seat.

"I have the bestest, sweetest, manliest hubby in the whole wide world," Rayne declared happily, pulling his head back so she could plant an upside down smooch to his lips. This seemed to mollify him somewhat. Giggling, she then glanced my way. "You all ready for your big debut, pumpkin?"

Rubbing one elbow, I shrugged, "...as ready as I'm going to be, I suppose."

Her lips twisted sourly as she clipped another glitzy butterfly into his hair. "Still wish I was able to go and give you moral support."

"No no, it's fine," I said hastily with a shake of my head and a small, reassuring smile. "Lea's driving me so it's not like I'm stranded in need of a ride or anything. Plus you have your baby appointment to get to and I wouldn't want to make you reschedule for some silly little thing like this. Really, just don't worry about it."

"Besides," Riku tacked on, "friends and family of those trying out aren't usually allowed in to watch the auditions anyway."

Rayne's cheeks gave a little puff of annoyance. "I'd like to see them try and stop me if I showed up."

There was a knock at the door just then. Knowing it was Lea, I moved to open it and found him standing there, one shoulder propped against the doorframe. He grinned down at me, "Hey, El! Ready to go? I-" he stopped as he looked past me, blinking a couple times. Then the curl to his lips grew a touch evil, "Yo, Raindrop, who's your new gal pal? She's hella cute!"

"Cram it before I curb stomp your ass," Riku ground out through his teeth.

"Threaten me with a good time, mamacita," he purred back at him, waggling his eyebrows.

Riku sneered with a tch, grumbling under this breath, "Better pray we don't meet in a dark alley, clown, because I will crush you."

"Oof, I usually like a girl to ask me to dinner first, but I might be willing to make an exception just this once if ya keep sweet talking me like that, gorgeous," Lea winked. As Riku shot up to his feet with a black look, I ran out the door and grabbed Lea's arm. "Oops, looks like duty calls. We'll hafta continue this later, hot stuff. Call me!" he blew Riku a kiss with a snigger as I dragged him away, slamming the door shut behind me.

I started jogging down the steps, listening to Lea's footfall as he followed close behind. Shaking my head with a soft scoff, I said, "Can't believe Mr Guyliner here is making fun of a dude with flowers in his hair."

"Was only doing it cuz I knew how butthurt he'd get over it," he snerked as he appeared at my side. "Now me personally? Don't have a problem with it. I'd rock a thousand posies in my majestic mane and look damn fine doing it too."

I glanced over at him, one corner of my lips tugging up. "I might have to hold you to that."

He flung himself onto the handrail and slid down past me in a blur. Converse hitting the landing below, Lea spun around to block my way just as I caught up to him, smirking as he brought himself nose-to-nose with me. "Only if you're the one weaving all them pretty lil blossoms into my hair."

My heart spasmed.

Down, girl.

After all, it was only the empty teasing he always did.

I turned my head a little, shooting him some side-eye. "...do I get to choose the flowers?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good." I ducked under his arm to slip past him and make my way towards the next flight of stairs, "Leadwort it is then."

"Well now, that sounds ominous." I could hear the frown in his voice. "Should I be worried?"

I shot him a sly grin over my shoulder. "Depends. Very pretty. Very, very itchy. Hope you're ready to suffer for fashion."

"For you?" he beamed, hopping down the steps two at a time now to gain on me once more. "Totally worth it."

I merely rolled my eyes, electing not to dignify his comment with a response.

Soon enough we'd climbed into his car and were hitting the road. Sunset Hill Auditorium wasn't really all that far, but still a bit further than I'd rather walk. Thankfully Lea had been free and only too happy to give me a lift over, seeing as how Riku and Rayne had a prior commitment on the other end of town. Speaking of, they'd probably left immediately right after us and I idly wondered if Riku was planning on showing up at the doctor's with his hairdo still all fab like that. The image brought a little smile to my face.

It quickly faded however as I stared down at the sheet music sitting in my lap. My fingers twisted at my braid as I took in a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. Now that I'd fallen quiet, I could feel that nervous energy creeping its way back into my chest. It was actually kind of sort of a good nervous. I was a bit loathe to admit it, but a small part of me was looking forward to this.

That said, it didn't mean I wasn't also absolutely friggin' terrified.

I was actually a little relieved that friends and family weren't normally allowed into the auditions. The offer of moral support was appreciated, but ultimately I think I would have been more anxious if Riku and Rayne had been able to come and watch. Anna too, for that matter. I know my sister would have dropped everything to be here in a heartbeat, which is why I hadn't even mentioned anything about this to her. Making a fool of myself in front of strangers? Mortifying, but I'd survive - at least if I royally screwed up, I'd never have to see any of them again and could just pretend the whole big mess had never happened. Not so if people I actually cared about were there to witness me flop hard. And it wouldn't matter how kind and supportive they would have been after any sort of epic failure on my part... in fact, that might have only made me feel even worse.

Still, them not coming was only a minor comfort lost in the sea of dread filling up inside me now. My stomach burned with queasiness and my lungs felt like they were shrinking, making it harder and harder to breathe.

"Hmm," Lea's low hum broke me out of my thoughts. I glanced over at him as he pursed his lips to one side before shaking his head, "Mm-mm, nope. Too tangy. You need to be spoiled rotten with the sugary sweetness."

Feeling that cold anxiety loosen its grip and recede somewhat, I furrowed my brow for a few seconds before it clicked. "Ah. You've ruled out another ice cream flavor for me."

"Yup!" he chirped, switching his car over into the next lane.

"So which one got the boot this time?"

"Ever After."

"Huh," I fixed my eyes on the road straight ahead, squinting slightly. "Didn't you rule out a different flavor previously for being too sweet?"

One of his hands came to rest on the shoulder of my car seat. "Well yeah, but having a sweet tooth is one thing, while suicide by pure, massive sugary overdose is something else altogether. I think you know where to draw the line."

I tipped my head to one side. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" he echoed, quirking an eyebrow as he checked his side view mirror. "...am I wrong?"

"Didn't say that," I muttered, my fingers absently fiddling with the corners of the sheet music. "Just said it was interesting."

He frowned. "Crap. That's gonna bug me now."

I flashed him a half-grin. "I know."

"Cruel, cruel woman."

I just crinkled my nose at him smugly.

I knew he was trying to take my mind off the audition. And the distraction was welcome, but unfortunately brief. I could already feel that frown resurfacing, that apprehensive chill knotting tightening in my stomach once more.

Lea shifted his head slightly towards me, watching me out of his peripheral with a small downward tug at the corner of his lips. "...ya know you got absolutely nothing to worry about, right?" he asked softly. My eyes flicked over to him for a second before staring back down at my lap again. He elaborated, "It's community theater."

My eyebrows knit together. "...so?"

"So that means ya got no one to impress. Nothing to prove. No one's gonna be expecting a Julliard education from you or for you to have a few Broadway shows under your belt. This is all just for kicks. An absolutely zero pressure environment. Just a buncha goofballs who like acting and singing and dancing around in wacky costumes and so have found others who share their same brand o' crazy so they can all geek out together doing what they love in their free time. Doesn't matter to any of 'em how good or bad ya might be. They're not there to judge, they just wanna have a good time." He lightly tapped his knuckles to my shoulder, "So loosen up, will ya? You're gonna have a blast and knock 'em dead."

The knots loosened a little and a small grin found its way onto my face despite myself. "Thanks, Lea."

Surprisingly, his words helped.

For a grand total of two minutes.

Which just so happened to be right about when we were parking in front of the auditorium. Imagine that.

"Break a leg! I'll just chill in the car and you can meet me back here when you're done," Lea told me as he rolled down his window and fished his phone out of his pocket.

I barely heard him over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. Swallowing hard and finding my throat too tight for words, I simply gave a stiff nod before climbing out of the car. Hugging the sheet music to my chest, I stepped over the curb and up onto the sidewalk before pausing to stare at the auditorium's double doors, opened wide to invite people in. My bottom lip tucked in and I made a quick glance back towards Lea who grinned and gave me a thumbs up through his window. Then I looked at that doorway once more.

My eyes hardened. My hands gripped the papers more firmly. My chest puffed up and my spine snapped straight.

Let's do this.

I determinedly marched right up to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the entrance.

Then I spun one-eighty and determinedly marched straight back the way I'd come from.

Lea looked up from his phone, both eyebrows shooting up his forehead. "El? Did you forget-"

Whipping back around, I drew in a deep breath before releasing it.

Alright, let's try that again.

I stomped towards the building once more.

This time I actually made it onto the first cement step before retreating.

Expression blank, Lea said nothing as he watched me do this again (making it as far as the second step up) and yet again (third step). By my next attempt, he'd gotten out and was leaning back against his closed car door, arms folded beneath his chest, ankles crossed. Drat, only the third step again. As I returned and came to a stop in front of him, my eyes narrowed and I released a huff through my nose. He just gave me a small shrug, as if to ask what exactly I expected him to do. I whirled on my heel once more, stormed back towards the auditorium and… fudge! Third step again! Now I was just in a friggin' rut!

Beyond frustrated with myself, I walked up beside Lea this time, folded my arms atop the roof of his car, pillowed my face into them and let out a muffled yell. Then I flipped around, bracing my back against the vehicle and scowled up at the sky.

A pause.

Then Lea piped up, "Ya know you actually have to go inside the place in order to audition… right?"

I whacked him upside the head with my sheet music.

"...take that as a yes."

My shoulders sagged and I hid my face behind the papers in my hands, mumbling, "I can't do this. I'm too much of a scaredy-cat."

There was a snort from him. "You kidding? You're one of the bravest people I know."

I scoffed into the printouts, "Stop patronizing me. I don't appreciate it."

"I'm serious." I felt his hands on mine, gently pulling both them and the sheet music down so I could see him standing in front of me now, hunched down to my eye level. "Do you know what the definition of being brave is?"

"Not Elsa, that's for sure," I muttered, looking away.

"Shush," he flicked my forehead. Rude. "Being brave is not a complete and total absence of fear. No, being brave is taking action despite your fear. Remember your wedding day?"

I fixed him with a dull stare. "How could I forget? I ran away. Like a coward."

"No, a coward woulda done nothing. A coward woulda just done as she was told cuz she would be too chicken to make any waves. A coward woulda stayed, gone through with the wedding and led a miserable life she didn't want just to please her folks. Just because it was the safest, easiest route. But you didn't do that."

"No, instead I oh so bravely ran away like a warrior," I corrected my previous statement with a roll of my eyes.

He nodded, "Exactly! You were frightened, had no idea what you were gonna do, didn't have the foggiest of where to go or who to turn to, and yet you still did it. Took that leap and did the whole independent thing and guess what? You've been thriving!" His hands still cradling mine, I felt his thumbs start to trace soothing circles along my knuckles. "And sure, everything's been new and scary… finding a job, meeting new people, not caving to your family's demands… but no matter how afraid you may have got, you never hid from any of it. You've been facing your fears and meeting each new challenge head on. Now I'd call that pretty damn brave."

Wow, his pep talk game was way, way better than mine.

That said, I still eyed him dubiously. "Really?"

"Hell yeah! Shit, if I had to carry around as much fear inside of me as you do, I dunno if I'd be strong enough to do half the things you've done! You're a goddamn hero, babydoll!" he smiled big. "Now, I know this is something ya really want."

My face heated and I averted my gaze. "...how can you tell?"

"Trust me, I can read you pretty well by now," his fingers tweaked my nose. "So listen up: if you can do all that other stuff that terrified you before, if you can just grab hold and take charge of your life the way you have so far, then this one teensy-weensy audition should be a total piece of cake!"

"You really think so?" I frowned uncertainly at him.

"I know so!" he declared with a laugh. "So whaddya say? Think you're ready to do this?"

Though my chest was still tight with anxiety, I could feel that tiny glow of excitement and longing deep, deep down sparking back to life. I slowly smiled and gave a hesitant nod, "...yes, I believe so."

"Then what're you standing round here for? Go on, scoot!"

I didn't budge an inch. After a few seconds, I hung my head. "My feet won't move."

Lea blinked, then chuckled softly. "Do you need me to give ya a tow?"

I grimaced, "Maybe."

"Alright, I can help you inside, but that's as far as I'll be able to take ya. It'll be up to you to get yourself on that stage."

"Just get me through that door," I agreed quietly.

Linking his hand in mine, he turned and led the way towards the auditorium. I stumbled into a walk behind him, drawing what little strength I could from his warm, steady grip. With his help, I finally made it all the way up those daunting stairs and through that foreboding doorway.

Only to be stopped almost immediately once we stepped inside by someone standing in our way.

That someone being a tall, familiar, skinny guy with a spooky yet snappy suit.

"Elsa!" Jack flashed me what I was beginning to suspect was his signature ear-to-ear grin. "You don't know how thrilled I am to see that you could make it! Here to try out or just observe?"

"...try out?" I said, voice small. Yes, it came out just like that. Like it was a question. Like there was a right or wrong answer and I was just guessing, hoping for the best.

"Splendid, Splendid! Glad to hear it! I'll get you added to the director's list and your name will be called when it's your time to shine. For now, you can just take a seat and watch the others. Lea," he turned his gaze on him now, "good to see you too, but you know the rules. Unless you're here to audition, you're going to have to wait outside."

I unconsciously sidled closer to Lea, squeezing his hand.

Huh. Guess I actually wanted him to stick around and watch me make a fool out of myself. Shocked? I know I was.

Maybe it was because he thought I was brave. Maybe if he stayed, I could trick myself into thinking I was brave too.

Lea snuck a glance my way. Eyes crinkling, he squeezed my hand back before returning his attention to Jack with a sheepish grin and ruffled his fingers through his crimson spikes, "Aw c'mon, man, this is her first time! Could ya maybe be a pal, do me a solid and bend the rules a lil just this once?"

Jack crossed his arms, squinting at him with a flat look. Then he sighed and stepped to one side, his smile back and bigger than ever, "Alright, just this one time though! And you better be on your best behavior, bucko!"

"I will! Scout's honor!" he held up three fingers pressed together and beamed. "Thanks, man! Let's go, El." And with that, Lea was pulling me further inside.

The auditorium was larger on the inside than I expected, with rows upon rows of theater seating stretching out before us. While those seats were far from full, there were still more people here than I'd expected there would be, making me gulp. Auditions were already under way it seemed as I watched a familiar guy I recalled seeing in the food court previously - Joshua, I believe? - dip into a flamboyant bow before jumping down off the stage. Remaining up there was an old, clunky piano on wheels with Mullet Boy from the Blue Sitar seated at it.

"Setzer, you're up," came a call from someone sitting in the middle of the third row, presumably the director. All I could tell about him from the back of his head was that he had choppy, shoulder-length pink hair. Slumping lazily into the seat next to him with feet kicked up onto the chair in front of her was that blonde chick from Cinema XIII - I'd recognize that weird hairdo anywhere.

"Ah, looks like Marluxia The Douche-ah is running the show this time round," Lea whispered into my ear with a nod towards Mr Rosy-Locks as we walked down the aisle. "Not gonna be winning Personality Of The Year anytime soon, but I hear he can be a halfway decent director."

He then straightened back up, eyes scanning the people gathered here for a second before his face lit up, "Oo, let's sit with them!" His hands went to my shoulders and he steered me into a sharp turn down one of the rows. Coming to a stop next to two more faces I vaguely recognized, Lea greeted, "Ladies, mind if we join you?"

The two women looked up at us with friendly smiles, the ginger nodding, "Of course! Take a seat!"

We did just that, with the pair of them to my right and Lea to my left. He reached across in front of me to fistbump the closer of the two girls, "Sweet! Redheads of the world unite, booyah!"

I looked over with a timid grin. It was time once again for another one of my little misadventures into the world of small talk! Clearing my throat and tapping my sheep music against my knees to straighten them even though they were in no actual need of straightening, I asked, "It was Tiana and… Ariel, I believe?"

"Mm-hm!" Ariel closed her eyes as her smile grew. "Elsa, right? We haven't officially met yet, but I remember seeing you around at 7th Heaven that one night! You and Lea were amazing at karaoke! Well… really more so you. No offense, Lea," she giggled.

"None taken. I know my gal's got a beautiful pair o' lungs on her," he slung his arm around my shoulders, hugging me close and pressing a kiss into my hair.

Tiana leaned forward to look past Ariel and meet my gaze, "You really do. Do you work with a professional voice coach or anything?"

I blushed, tugging on my braid. "I, uh… no. No, nothing like that."

"Really?" Ariel's lips formed a surprised little 'o'. Then her face brightened once more, "Well, if you're looking for someone, I can put you in touch with mine if you'd like. His name is Sebastian and he's absolutely wonderful. He can be uptight and a bit of a party-pooper, but he gets results!"

Squeezing my braid harder now, I gaped at her slightly. "You actually have a voice coach?"

This was community theatre, as Lea had made a strong point of earlier. People here weren't supposed to have friggin' voice coaches!

"Yup! I'm going to be a famous singer one day and finally leave this sleepy town to tour all over the world, after all, so it's important I do my best right now! I've been practicing ever since I was-"

"Eric to the stage please," Marluxia's voice suddenly echoed throughout the room.

Ariel gasped excitedly and struck a finger up to her lips, shushing Tiana, Lea and me (despite the fact that none of us were talking) before eagerly sitting forward in her chair, practically buzzing with anticipation. That silver-haired Setzer guy - oh gosh, had he come in costume or was that crazy getup just what he normally wore? - swaggered cockily down the stairs to the right of the stage while another dude was coming up the left. The newcomer had short black hair, dimples when he smiled and I suppose what some might call Prince Charming good looks.

Ariel plonked her elbows down onto her knees and propped her chin up in both hands with a delighted sigh. "Isn't he dreamy?"

Tiana wrinkled her nose and muttered to me behind Ariel's head, "She has a bit of a crush."

"You're one to talk," Ariel snorted, elbowing her in the arm. "Naveen's should be up next. Believe me," she smirked towards me, "you haven't seen heart-eyes until you see the ones Tiana has for this guy."

"Shut up, do not!" she laughed, swatting her shoulder.

Brushing her off, Ariel suddenly pointed towards my sheet music. "May I?"

"Oh, uh… s-sure," I handed them over, freeing up both my hands to strangle my braid now. Noticing this, Lea took one of them in his own, shifting it over to the armrest between us and lacing his fingers into mine. The warmth of his palm against the back of my hand brought me some comfort and I felt a little less restless.

Ariel squinted at the papers for a second before grinning, "Oh wow, I love this song! Good choice! Although, if I remember correctly…" she flipped towards the end. "Ah, yup! A second singer does come in. They only have a couple lines though. I can go up with you and fill in for those bits if ya want, the director shouldn't mind!"

"That's really nice… thank you," I smiled, taking the pages back. Sally had said pretty much the same thing when I'd texted her to make sure the song would be okay, but that still had meant I needed to find someone to sing those few extra lines. I hadn't counted on someone finding me instead. Thank goodness for small miracles.

This was one of my most favorite songs too. One from a musical I'd watched over and over again when I was a child, so often that it'd probably driven my parents to the point of insanity. I had just identified so much with the character who sang this number and it still to this day held a very special place in my heart, even after all these years. I knew this song forwards and backwards. Knew it like the back of my hand. I figured if I had any chance of leaving any sort of good impression here today, it would be with this song.

Looking up from the music notes scrawled across the papers, I saw that that Eric person had left. He'd been replaced by a man with a newsie hat on over his wavy, dark brown hair and was singing something jazzy. The way Tiana was reddening while Ariel giggled and whispered to her, I suspected this had to be Naveen. I tried to just sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Tried to banish the anxiety from my thoughts, instead focusing more on Lea's hand now toying with my fingers. On the way he lightly traced up and down their lengths, making them tingle pleasantly. Hoping that little tingle would help keep the nervousness at bay.

But it didn't.

I began to flinch slightly with each new name called, fearing it would be mine. Feeling a little relief when it wasn't, as well as a little annoyance from just wanting to get this over and done with already. A flinch for when Olette was called, who was sitting with a boy with black spiky hair held up by a headband. I idly wondered if it was that buddy of hers who hadn't been able to make it to Friday night drinks - Pence, I believe? Another flinch for when Yuna was called, some brunette with mismatched eyes who sang a pop song I was unfamiliar with. Two more flinches for each of her friends when their names were called, a perky blonde with a long ponytail full of small braids and a freaky looking goth chick in a tight, strappy leather outfit. And yet another flinch for when Rhyme was called, a girl whose sweet demeanor was at odds with the little skull on her black cap and the rap number she'd chosen to sing.

I had to keep resisting the urge to glance towards the doors in back. The ones leading to the outside world. To freedom. Not for the first time, I wondered… what if I made a run for it? You know, just straight up booked it? The idea did hold merit and was very tempting. Nay, extremely tempting.

The only drawback? I'd hate myself.

Because as much as I was dreading this, Lea hadn't been wrong. This was something I wanted. Like… really, really wanted. I'd been trying to lie to myself, pretending I didn't really care, downplaying how important it actually was to me. But this was something I'd dreamt about since I was little. Sadly, I had lost that dream somewhere along the way as I had grown older. Had misplaced and forgotten it in favor of pleasing my parents, of fulfilling their wishes and expectations for me and how I led my life. I had carelessly discarded it, giving it up for nothing more than useless childhood fantasy.

But now it had found its way back to me and I'd been given a second chance. And even if it ended up going nowhere and turned out to be nothing more than a deadend, I still had to try. I just knew that this was something that I had to do. That I needed to do. For me. For the sake of my own happiness.

...gah, just why did it have to be so scary though?!

And all these women trying out before me? Were so not helping! They were all so amazing and talented. Each one seemed better than the last. Each one had most likely been practicing for this audition for days, if not weeks. Each one had probably done this at least once before. Everyone knew everyone here and were all friends. Everyone, that is, except for me. How could I, a stranger with no real experience or training and very little preparation, possibly even hope to stand a chance?

Man, making a break for it through that back door was looking better and better by the second.

My fingers clutched the sheet music more tightly, wrinkling and creasing it after I'd tried so hard not to this whole time. I didn't really seem to care anymore. I could feel the blood draining from my face and-

"Yawn, total snoozefest," came a sudden whisper in my ear.

I jerked my head around towards it, blinking owlishly at Lea once, then twice. "...huh?"

"Her," he nodded to the current girl trying out, her long golden hair ending in curls. "That Aurora chick. She's got me just 'bout ready to hibernate over here."

My wide eyes darted back and forth between her and him. Then it happened. A tiny snerk, escaping through my nose before I could stop it. Too late I clasped a hand over my mouth. After a short pause, I lowered it to whisper back, "You don't really mean that. You're just trying to distract me."

He bobbed his shoulders and grinned. "Is it working?"

I looked away now, carefully schooling my expression as I attempted to smooth the crumples out of my sheet music. "...maybe."

Next up was Tiana. "Jeez, talk about frog in your throat," Lea murmured low out of the corner of his mouth. A mutinous little snort burst out of my nose and I tried to shush him. Then it was Ariel's turn. "Love that girl to death but I'm sorry, a warbling seagull sounds better." I bit back a soft pft and pinched his arm. I was trying not to laugh, I really was, but each remark was so ridiculous, so stupid, so obviously not true that it was hard to resist. A Snow White was called next - now that was a stage name if I ever heard one. At least, I hoped it was. She'd gotten about halfway through her audition when I heard a hushed, "Tch, who taught her to sing, a buncha tone-deaf coal miners?"

I spluttered, clamping my hand firmly over his mouth. "Okay, you need to stop now," I hissed out in a poor attempt to hide my amusement.

There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Then I felt him licking my fingers.

"Ugh, real mature," I scrunched up my face, snatching my hand back only to wipe it off on his cheek a second later.

"Psh, acting like ya don't like it," he sniggered, cupping the side of my head so he could pull me in and rub his damp cheek to mine.

I squirmed, trying to break free. "Gross! Why? Just… why?"

Grip holding me firmly in place while he still nuzzled our cheeks together, he cooed, "Consider it a good luck charm from me to you! Now you have no choice but to knock their socks off!"

"How old are you, seven?" I grunted, trying to wedge an elbow between us. "You seriously need to gro-"

"Could Elsa please step onto the stage now?"

Both Lea and I froze for a split second. Fudge, I'd all but forgotten where I was and why I was here. Now it all came crashing back to me.

Ka-thunk.

What was that, you might be wondering? Oh nothing really. Just the sound of my heart plummeting to the bottom of my gut.

Before I'd even realized what I was doing, I'd sprung up onto my feet and was walking briskly towards the center aisle with all the grace and dignity I could muster. As if I couldn't still feel Lea's slobber drying on my cheek. Good luck charm, indeed. I'd show him good luck!

...that hadn't come across sounding as threatening as I would have liked.

It took a few seconds for it to really sink in. What I was doing. Where I was going. What I was about to do. I was about to audition… to sing in front of all of these people. I had to remind myself that this was something that I really, truly wanted. It was hard to remember right now in this exact second, but the desire was still there. Way deep, deep down inside of me, there was still that tiny spark valiantly burning away, smothered and small though it may be at the moment.

As each step brought me closer to that stage, I felt it again. That chilly dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. The iciness seemed to spread outward and I slowly grew numb. My mind started to feel detached and far away from the rest of my body, like I was no longer in control of it. Instead, it was more like I was only a passenger as it kept moving me forward seemingly of its own accord now, taking me up those stairs leading to my doom. That's right, my doom. I wasn't being over dramatic here at all. Not one bit.

Conceal, don't feel.

As I started crossing the stage, I was hardly even aware of Ariel out of the corner of my eye, whispering something to Marluxia before he gave a curt nod and she was scrambling up those steps after me. My ankle boots against the hardwood echoed loudly throughout the quiet theater. Too loudly, it felt like. But it paled in comparison to the thundering of my heart - oh gosh, could everyone else hear it too?

Conceal, don't feel.

All too soon, I was reaching the pianist and offering him the (rather abused at this point) sheet music with a shaky hand. He took it, looking it over briefly before setting it down on the music rack and smiling, "Just give me a nod when you're ready."

Ariel popped up then, plonking down onto the bench beside him with a grin. "I'll just sit with Demyx here and jump in for the parts you need me. Don't worry, you'll do great!"

My mouth tightened into a crude approximation of a smile before I turned to face the audience.

Big mistake.

Jeez, were there more people out there now? I could swear there were more people. Somehow, I willed my feet to move me closer to the front and center of the performance area. My fingers were running along my braid nonstop, up and down, up and down. My breathing had become so rapid and shallow. It felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen into my lungs. Could the air be thinner here on stage? You know, all the way up at this higher altitude of a whopping five feet?

Conceal, don't feel.

My eyes darted from face to unfamiliar face, not sure where to look. At the director maybe? That'd make sense, right? He'd be the one to decide my fate here, after all. I glanced down at Marluxia. At that blonde chick next to him - maybe she was his assistant director? Did community theater even have an assistant director? Well I suppose it would just depend on- focus, Elsa, focus! I squeezed my eyes shut with a grimace before opening them back up, looking to that pair once more. By their expressions, they both already seemed so remarkably unimpressed by me and I hadn't even begun yet. No, staring at them would only rattle me more.

I gripped at my braid more tightly and my gaze shifted about once more, almost desperate now, searching for what, I wasn't quite sure. But at last I seemed to find it - a face I knew. Lea's face. There, suddenly, like a beacon in the crowd. I wasn't quite sure how I'd not seen him until now. When our eyes met, he merely bobbed his head slightly and smiled at me. So small, so simple. And yet it filled me with such warmth and encouragement.

Lea thought I was brave.

And maybe, just for this one moment, I could pretend to be.

I inhaled deeply, my breath a raspy hiss through my nose. Holding it in for a couple seconds, I then puffed it out softly, releasing my braid and letting my hands fall to my sides. Finally, I gave Demyx a stiff nod over my shoulder.

Welp. This was it. No turning back now.

It was probably only a second, maybe two, but it felt like an eternity before that first piano note sounded. When at last it did, I swear it practically gave me a heart attack and my knees almost buckled. But I steadied myself, my clammy hands smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles out of my dress as I let the tune wash over me, trying to find solace in its familiarity. I kept my eyes fixed on Lea. Anywhere else and I knew I would lose my nerve completely. I could hear it coming in the music. My cue to start singing. I sucked in a breath.

"Every inch of me is trembling," oh gosh, that had never been more true than it was in this very moment, "but not from the cold. Something is familiar like a dream I can reach but not quite hold." Was I too quiet? Pretty sure I was too quiet. Licking my dry lips, I pushed my quavering voice to be louder, "I can sense you there like a friend I've always known... I'm arriving and it feels like I am hom-" I choked, my tongue stumbling over the word. My pulse flatlined, my blood turned to ice in my veins, and every atom in me was screaming at me to run, run, run.

But I resisted. I don't know how, but I did. Maybe it was Lea's reassuring gaze still holding mine. Maybe it was that spark deep down inside, flaring up obstinately to fight back against the cold fear closing in around my heart. Whatever it was, I remained rooted to the spot, clenching and unclenching my hands and eyes hard.

"I have always been a fortress," my heart hammered in my ears as I stubbornly pushed on, pretending I hadn't made a mistake, "cold secrets deep inside. You have secrets too, but you don't have to hide." Lea folded his arms atop the back of the chair in front of him, bending forward to rest his chin atop them and looking quite content. Feeling emboldened, I went into the chorus, "Show yourself, I'm dying to meet you. Show yourself, it's your turn." I think my voice was getting stronger. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking. "Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life? Show yourself, I'm ready to learn... Ah-ah, ah-ah!" I rang out the last bit and I heard Ariel's voice echo an answering call behind me.

"I've never felt so certain, all my life I've been torn," some of my tension was beginning to melt away and I took a tiny step forward. "But I'm here for a reason, could it be the reason I was born?" I could feel something bubbling up inside my chest… giddiness, maybe? "I have always been so different, normal rules did not apply. Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?" A smile was beginning to find its way onto my face. I couldn't believe it. A small, but actual, genuine smile of pure joy.

"Show yourself, I'm no longer trembling!" I burst out suddenly, almost triumphantly. Lea was lifting his head back up, face slack, eyes round. I had no idea what that meant. Was it a good reaction? A bad one? Either way, I was spurred on to do better. "Here I am, I've come so far! You are the answer I've waited for all of my life! Oh, show yourself, let me see who you are!" I wasn't even looking at him anymore. I was starting to forget about where I was, just getting lost in the was the only thing that mattered to me anymore in that moment.

I brought my voice back down, singing slowly, sweetly, "Come to me now, open your door, don't make me wait one moment more... Oh, come to me now," I repeated the line with more energy, "open your door, don't make me wait one moment more!"

"Where the north wind meets the sea," Ariel chimed in now and I took the moment to close my eyes, pulling in a big breath and reveling in the delightful tingle in my chest. I was entering the home stretch and there was no fear left. Only excitement. "There's a river full of memory... Come, my darling, homeward bound…"

"I am found!" I sang, putting all I had into it, letting the last word stretch and ring throughout the theater. "Show yourself, step into the power! Grow yourself into something new!"

Ariel came in one last time, "You are the one you've been waiting for…"

"All of my life!" I belted out, finishing the line she'd started. "Oh, show yourself! Ah-ah, ah-ah!" I vocalized the notes a few more times, each round louder and more confident than the last before finally ending the song in one long crescendo.

The auditorium was suddenly very quiet except for my low panting as I tried to catch my breath.

Then I heard it.

The sound of clapping. More specifically, of one single person clapping very enthusiastically, reverberating noisily around the otherwise dead silent room.

Feeling my face erupt in heat, I immediately buried it in my hands. I knew who it was, even before I parted my fingers to peek between them out into the audience. Yup. There he was. Lea, up on his feet to give me a standing ovation while everyone else remained seated, staring at him blankly.

The dork.

Ariel was at my side now, snickering as she muttered behind her hand to me, "This is why they normally don't let the boyfriends in to watch."

He didn't look like he planned on quitting any time soon either.

"Hsst!" I blew through my grit teeth at him discreetly. Well… as discreetly as I could, given I was still standing on a stage in front of a room full of people. "Stop it," I whispered, narrowing my eyes on him. I could see Jack making long, annoyed strides towards Lea. "You hear me? Stop. It."

He seemed to take 'stop it' to mean 'applaud harder and pepper it with a few shrill whistles for good measure.'

I sighed, hanging my head and pressing my fingers between my eyebrows.

"D'aw, I think it's cute," I heard Ariel laugh and I hazarded a glance up again. Lea, finally spotting Jack coming for him, had vaulted himself over some chairs into the next row and was trying to make a run for it. "Your boyfriend is your biggest fan."

"...yes," I rubbed a curled finger over my lips, eyes crinkling as I watched the little scene he was making. Sally had been waiting for him on the other end of the seats opposite of Jack. Realizing his mistake too late, she snagged him by the ear before he could backtrack and started dragging him out of the auditorium. "Yes, I suppose he is."

I still had to sing my second song, the one from Wicked itself. That one ended up being a lot less nerve-wracking. Don't get me wrong, a few jitters yet remained to wriggle about my insides, but I was still riding the endorphin high from getting through my first song, making the second one seem like a breeze in comparison. When I was done, the only acknowledgement I got from Marluxia was an impassive, "Thank you," before he was calling the next person. I hurried off the stage and had a quick word with Jack and Sally before saying my farewell and walking outside.

The sun was beginning to set by now, making the shadows stretch long. It wasn't hard to spot Lea, leaning against his car as he thumbed through his phone and waited.

My heart swelled and my feet suddenly had a mind of their own, propelling me forward.

He glanced up, pocketing his phone and grinning big at me as he used his foot to push himself up off the car. "Hey! You kicked some serious ass up th-" A surprised grunt was forced out of him as I suddenly crashed into his chest, hugging him tightly around the waist.

"...thank you for that," I muffled quietly into his shirt.

Lea was very still for a second. But then I felt a small chuckle rumbling throughout his body as his arms slowly wrapped around my shoulders, returning the embrace. "Nah, that was all you, El. I just provided the wheels that got ya here."

I loosened my grip but didn't fully let go. Just enough so I could lean back slightly to smile up at him. "Thanks for coming with me. I didn't think I'd wanted anyone here, but… it made a difference and meant more to me than I realized it would. And thank you for encouraging me to do this and…" my nose wrinkled a bit, "...and for making me get up on that karaoke stage a couple weeks ago, despite my multiple protests."

He snorted, but his face softened as he brushed some of my hair behind my ear, his thumb just barely grazing along my cheek with the gesture. "What can I say? Being a pushy, overbearing asshole is one of my many wonderful talents."

"That's not what I meant," my eyelids drooped.

"I know," he hummed a laugh as he pulled me in for another hug, squeezing me close as he rested his chin atop my head. We stayed that way for a few seconds more before he released a heavy sigh. Then he pulled back, cupped my face with both his hands, tenderly pressed his lips to my forehead, and...

...blew a goddamn raspberry.

I gasped and shoved him away, furiously scrubbing at my brow with my forearm. "Ugh, was getting more of your slobber on my face completely necessary?!"

"Oh without a doubt! I know what a huge fan of it ya are," he smirked cheekily as he made his way around his car to open the door for me. "Now then, shall we get you home, m'lady, so we can spread the good news?"

I squinted at him with a frown as I followed him over and took a seat. "...what good news?"

"That ya got the starring role, of course!" he chirped down at me.

"I did not-" I was interrupted as he shut the car door in my face. Huffing and buckling myself in, I waited until he was climbing into the driver seat to try again, "They won't even be announcing who's getting what part until next week, but I seriously doubt they're going to give me a lead."

"You're right, my mistake," he stuck his key into the ignition and twisted it, shooting me a wink. "They'll give ya two."

"Goodness, I'm getting two leads now?" I fought the upward tug I felt at one side of my mouth. "Do you even know how plays work?"

"Course! That's why I know for a fact that they're just gonna give you all the parts."

I bit back a grin. "Huh. A one-woman Wicked show. Now that'd certainly be a… choice."

"And one I have every confidence in you to pull off!" he nodded chipperly as we exited the parking lot.

I just shook my head at him. Honestly, I didn't care what part I got. I'd be honored just to be included in the chorus if they even gave me that much. But no, all that I really cared about was that I'd actually done it. Gone through with the audition and lived to tell the tale. And sure, it had scared me out of my mind, but in the end it'd been worth it. Because you know what? Turned out I'd absolutely loved singing on that stage. And I knew for sure now that this was something I wanted to do… something that I wanted to play a part in my life, no matter how big or small. And so what if I most likely wasn't going to get the lead this time around? I could just use this experience to learn the ropes and get better prepared.

Better prepared, that is, to totally crush it at the audition for the next show.

Author's Note: And yet another scene where I included the full lyrics of a song sang by a character - again, it's not something I would normally do, but I felt this was a rare occasion where it's important enough to Elsa's character growth that again I shouldn't just gloss over it. But gosh, I feel so awkward writing detailed singing scenes! Why oh why did I have to make her want to do something with singing? This was a story decision I fast grew to regret, haha xD I hope it turned out okay tho! Anyhoo, for anyone out there who hasn't seen Frozen 2, the song she sings this chapter, Show Yourself, is from that - I suggest you give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :) Actually hearing it does it way more justice than I could ever do in writing xD And I've decided that Disney movies still exist in this AU, they're just musicals now and the characters in those musicals most likely just all have different names than their Disney movie counterparts, but the plot is otherwise unaffected xP Fun fact: The ice cream this chapter, Ever After, is named after Corona's keyblade and I imagine its description on the menu would look something like: "Let down your golden lemon soft serve! A specialty from Corona, this treat is garnished with edible flowers and served in a stack of purple waffles cones to form a tower."

So, did Elsa manage to impress the powers that be at the audition? Will she make the cut and land a part the musical? Will she get a lead, a bit part, or the boot? WAS Lea's slobber actually lucky enough to tip the scales in her favor? Find out… NOT next chapter xD No, we have something else on the horizon for next time… could that fated yet dreaded weekend with the folks finally and at long last be upon us? Stay tuned to find out!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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feferipeixes · 4 years

Note

Even though their parents have made it clear that they will not be going back to gravity falls, Mabel makes deals with Dipper to tesser them there whenever their parents aren't around. This leads to a lot of midnight visits that can last until 4 or 5 am, since Stan's sleep schedule hasn't recovered from thirty years spending most of the night in a basement and their parents usually fall asleep around 11

At one end of the hall, a door clicked shut. At the other, a door quietly glided open, and a 13-year old girl’s head peeked out.

“Okay Dippler Effect, Mom and Dad went to sleep!” Mabel hissed excitedly. “Let’s ride!”

“That’s a new one,” Dipper replied in a whisper. The idea of sneaking out in the middle of the night still gave him anxiety, even though he’d done it a million times, even though no one but Mabel could hear him, even though the concept of him getting caught and punished was long dead. “Do you even know what the Doppler Effect is?”

“Sure do! It’s that thing when, like, if someone’s standing in one place listening to you, the sound of your brother’s protests get whinier as he blips away with you to go hang out with your friends!”

Dipper snorted into his hand. “Okay, that was pretty good.” He grabbed his sister’s hand. “Ready?”

Mabel put on a serious face, gripped her Dream Boy High backpack, and nodded. “Ready!”

There was a quick jerk as the air twisted around them – flashing colors filling Mabel’s vision and an awful nausea filling her stomach – and then it stopped. Mabel’s bedroom in Piedmont was gone, replaced by the kitchen of the Mystery Shack, complete with the sounds of a romcom floating in from the TV in the other room, a few empty cans of Pitt Cola sitting on the counter, and a sleeping Grunkle Stan slumped over the table.

Dipper floated over to his Grunkle and poked him in the head. His finger, unsurprisingly, went right through. “I thought he said he’d be awake,” he said, pouting. “Should I visit him in his dream and tell him to wake up, or -”

Mabel clapped giddily – cutting her brother off – threw her backpack to the ground, and unleashed the glee that had been building up within her since they’d planned this trip a couple of days earlier. She screamed at the top of her lungs, causing Dipper to clap his hands over his ears and recoil (which resulted in him clipping halfway through the refrigerator).

Stan jolted upright in his seat. “SOOS, THE COPS ARE HERE, HIDE THE VIOLINS!” he shouted. He blinked sleepily a few times, and then his eyes settled on Mabel bouncing up and down in front of him with a face-splitting smile on her face. “Oh, it’s just you kids. Geez, you’re gonna scare me into an early pension doing that.”

Mabel jumped at her Grunkle and hugged him tight. “Well, someone said he’d be awake at 11 so we could come by right after our parents went to sleep! Did someone forget it was our -”

There was the pounding of boots on stairs, and the door burst open to reveal Ford in a lab coat with ash on his face and in his hair. “Stanley! I heard screaming, what’s going on? Did the man-eating toaster come back? You swore you’d let me be the one to kill it if it did!”

“Calm down poindexter,” Stan started, “it’s just -“

“GREAT UNCLE FORD!” Mabel screeched, peeling herself off of Stan and running over to hug him instead. “You made it! I thought you were still having an awesome boat adventure!”

Ford flinched, but then ruffled Mabel’s hair. “Of course I made it, Mabel. Wouldn’t miss it.” A tuft of his hair spontaneously caught on fire, and he patted it out. “You’ll have to excuse me, I brought some of my research home with me. I must warn you, I may be slightly radioactive right now, so… watch out for that.”

“Haha, YES!” Mabel pumped her fist. “Soon I’ll have magic glitter dandruff!”

“Ask him about the boat trip, ask him about the boat trip!” Dipper whispered in Mabel’s ear. She waved him off.

“So nice of you to show up,” Stan said, getting up and punching his brother on the shoulder. “Did you finish cleaning all of your science crap out of the parlor?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Ford countered, and then paused. “Mostly. Almost. There’s too many people in there right now anyway. But hold on – I only see Mabel. Where’s my former apprentice?”

“MABEL HE’S TALKING ABOUT ME,” Dipper hissed. “Tell him I want to know about his trip and the sea monsters and the cursed gold doubloons he’s hiding from Stan and -”

“Dipper’s right here!” Mabel chirped. “He’s just invisible right now! Speaking of, Grunkle Stan, did you get a sacrifice for him?”

“You know I did, sweetie.” Stan picked up his eight-ball cane and gestured down the hall. “But today’s an important day. He’s not getting none of that rodent’s blood hootenanny we usually get him. We got something special.”

Mabel started hopping up and down so violently that the walls shook and everyone had to cover their ears. “What does that mean!!!!!!!!”

Stan hoisted Mabel up onto his shoulders. “How about you come and look for yourself before you blow the whole house down?”

Mabel cackled. “Onwards, Stan-oshima!”

Dipper eyed his sister jealously, and then floated over to Ford and pretended to sit on his shoulders. He and Mabel stuck their tongues out at each other playfully, forgetting to pay attention to where they were being carried, until -

“SURPRISE!”

Dipper and Mabel both flinched at the chorus of voices, and Mabel almost toppled off of Stan’s shoulders. It was a moment before they could take in the sight in front of them, but by then, Stan had placed Mabel on the floor and people were already coming up to her and hugging her.

“Dude, so good to see you!” Wendy said. “Where’s your bro at?”

Soos pushed up next to Wendy. “Mabel! You made it! Is Dipper here too?”

“Hey, it’s my turn to talk to her,” Pacifica drawled. “You’re lucky I’m even here – my parents would never allow it. Good thing they’re in Venice right now. Why can’t I see Dipper?”

Mabel screamed in joy again. “I can’t believe it, all of our friends are here! Wendy and Soos and Pacifica and Candy and Grenda and Robbie and Thompson and that weird guy who likes America! You all made it! And bro-bro’s right here,” she added, grabbing her incorporeal brother and squeezing him close. “We just haven’t summoned him yet!”

“Sixer. That’s our cue,” Stan said from behind them.

Dipper and Mabel turned around to see Stan and Ford each holding a cake with the number “14″ written in the center. Stan placed his cake on the table, while Ford carried his over to an empty space of the floor where a summoning circle had been drawn out. He placed the cake in the middle, and pulled out a vial of blue liquid from his lab coat. He uncorked it, dropped the liquid into the circle, and then paused.

“Uhh, remind me what the incantation is?” he asked.

“It’s stella splendidum, te invoco -” Dipper started.

Mabel cut him off by grabbing his sides, effortlessly lifting him up, and throwing him at the circle. He squealed in surprise, his little wings flapping frantically as he toppled through the air. He came to a stop a few feet above the circle, at which point Mabel shouted, “COME ON OUT, DIPDOPS!”

Another yelp, and Dipper was yanked out of the Mindscape and into the real world. The cake they sacrificed to him disappeared, replaced by a very nervous looking demon. Even though Dipper trusted his friends in Gravity Falls to be more supportive than his parents, it had been a long time since he’d seen some of these people, and, well, things sure had changed even since the Transcendence. He felt every eye in the room fall on him, examining his fancy attire, his sharp teeth, his pointed ears and gold-on-black eyes.

And then they began to cheer.

“Good to see you little man!” Old Man McGucket yodeled.

The Multibear growled softly. “Such a lovely gathering now that you’re here.”

“The Mystery Twins are back!” Candy joined in.

An incredible sense of relief washed over Dipper. Mabel pushed her way through her friends and pulled him into a tight hug again.

“Can you believe it, bro-bro?” she said, giggling as the rest of the crowd rushed in to join her. “Everyone made it!”

“Yeah, this is incredible!” Dipper wiped a golden tear away from his eye. “Everyone’s still here. Everything’s still okay.”

“Hope you like it, kiddos,” Stan said, ruffling his hair just as Ford did Mabel’s. “Happy birthday.”

The twins grinned. The remaining cake was passed through the crowd until it was resting in front of them.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” Grenda shouted.

Dipper laughed. “I don’t know about you, Mabes, but I’ve already got my wish.”

“Me too, bro-bro,” Mabel replied. “Although I wouldn’t say no to backstage passes to the Boyz 4 Now concert, or maybe a jetpack, or…”

“Just blow out the candles, dummy,” he retorted.

The crowd of their friends and family started chanting “Blow! Out! The candles! Blow! Out! The candles!” The birthday twins nodded and grabbed each other’s hands. They both drew in a large breath. They blew as hard as they could.

Applause rippled through the room, and Mabel and Dipper were happy.

—

At 5am, there was a soft blip, and two teenagers appeared in a bedroom in Piedmont, California. A newly 14-year old girl’s head peeked out the door, looked toward the other end of the hall, and then pulled back into the room.

“Looks like we got away with it, bro-bro!” Mabel whispered. “That was the best sneak out to Gravity Falls to date!”

“It sure was,” he replied, and a warbling note of gratitude filled his voice. “It sure was.”

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #mabel pines #stanley pines #stanford pines #fic #fluff #long post #my stuff #asks #anonymous #i went a little off script from this prompt but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

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haloud · 5 years

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take a chance and don’t ever look back: chapter 2

ao3

Senior year is everything and nothing like it was supposed to be. Maybe if Michael had more chance to watch television as a kid, he would have had a clearer expectation of what was to come; or maybe he just would have had a false hope to rail against.

Whatever the case, in real life he flew blind.

But it’s almost over now. He photocopies his scholarship letter from UNM and sticks it to the roof of his truck so he can look at it when it rains and the stars aren’t out. Final exams are a few weeks out, but for the first time in his life they don’t feel like the end of his world knocking down the door. He did it. He’s in. Everything else is just the credits rolling.

Only one more hurdle to jump.

Michael and Alex still don’t really know each other. Their circles brush a little more these days than they used to—Michael goes where his siblings go, Isobel goes where Max goes, so all three of them go to the Crashdown every day ending in Y. It’s not such a big deal, though, not yet. Prom has always been Michael’s endgame. A big gesture. Something deserving of Alex Manes and his smile and the nose piercing he got over the summer. Max keeps talking about how he and Liz are running out of time, but Michael doesn’t see why things have to end the second he hits the highway. People say long distance relationships never work out, but people also seem to think they’re alone in the universe. Clearly, people need to start using their imaginations.

Now, Michael never skips class, and he’s never really had to put up with bullies despite the rumors he’s homeless because everyone’s too scared of Isobel. But it’s a matter of course that he’d have a handful of hiding places across campus. Last time he grew he ended up too tall to fit in his old spot under the east stairs, but the new spot is even better: a little-used janitor’s closet sandwiched between two auditorium access doors. Spring is his new favorite season, because sometimes when he posts up in there during lunch or after class, he can hear the orchestra practicing for their upcoming concert.

It’s there where he gets the idea to kick off his master plan with a little bit of petty theft. Not the best idea, but Alex hasn’t gotten any easier to talk to, not when Michael’s heart still starts to tap dance whenever they’re in the same room. At least this gets his attention.

Smoothing his hands over Alex’s guitar feels all at once both sacred and utterly profane. He feels it under his palms for hours after giving it back.

And then…Michael always knew Alex was kind, but he doesn’t even have words for what it is that Alex offers him in a steady voice. Nothing to say but thank you, each word like the sound of a gonging bell between them. He doesn’t even get to ask what he was going to ask, too overwhelmed and grateful and awed and small inside.

On prom night, it seems like the whole school’s gone stag this year. There’s Liz and Valenti, of course, but everyone else Michael knows is only coming to party. Even Isobel doesn’t even play at wanting a trophy on her arm this year. When Michael asks her who she’s taking, she goes wan and tense the way she spends too much time going these days and snaps that of course she’s taking him, why, does he not want her to? Some college girl from Albuquerque already making the drive for him?

It stings a little—or, okay, a lot, but Michael gets it better than anyone else possibly could. Sometimes it feels like he knows people best by the way their backs look shrinking in the distance. He doesn’t want that for Is; she deserves to know that she’s always gonna be his best girl. So he spends half the night showing her a good time, making her laugh on the dance floor, keeping her company even when Max drifts away to follow Liz at a distance. It’s a bit of a dent on his plans, but nothing’s more important to him than Is knowing she’s gonna be loved.

The party’s in full swing when she turns to him, eyes sparkling, cheeks pinker than her dress, and says, “Isn’t there anyone else you’d rather dance with? Not that I’m not flattered, of course!”

Michael turns pink too. He feels like he’s been hearing Alex’s name whispered all night, but he can’t be sure because that’s just kind of normal for him. Isobel smiles—not her teasing grin, but a resigned twist of her lips.

“Go,” she says, punching his shoulder lightly.

“Are you sure? I don’t have to—”

“Go, Michael. You’ve done enough. I mean it.” Isobel leans in and kisses him on the cheek. As if to prove her point, she then turns sharply on her heel and stalks like a lioness to some random guy on the dance floor. Michael laughs, shaking his head. Oh, Isobel.

Oh, Alex.

It’s now or never. Michael has to find him in the crush of bodies somehow, has to seize the moment before it’s gone for good. He’s sweating a little too much, though, he’s a little too disheveled, a little too emotional. He just needs to catch his breath, maybe splash some water on his face. Slipping out the side door—really, it shouldn’t be this easy, aren’t these things chaperoned?—Michael sucks in a breath that chills his lungs, the building’s AC cranked up high to compensate for all the grinding, grasping bodies packed into one room. He heads straight for the bathroom, his secondhand dress shoes bouncing eerily off the walls of the deserted school. He rounds the corner, only to slam straight into the sharp shoulder of someone waiting on the other side. It clips him right in the center of his chest and he sprawls back, arms windmilling, until his back hits the lockers with a bang.

“Guerin?” The person almost-shouts. Michael jerks his arms up to cover his face before the voice registers to his brain.

“Oh god, oh god, Guerin, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else—” Alex babbles, and Michael jerks his arms down as quickly as they came up. Alex grabs his shoulders and pulls him forward, presses at a few places on his back to feel for bruising. Michael feels himself ragdoll with a combination of adrenaline leaving his body and the sheer sweet relief of Alex touching him with care, but he manages to coordinate his mouth muscles enough to speak.

“It’s okay, Manes, it’s okay. I’m fine.” He straightens up, holding his arms out to demonstrate. Alex relents slightly; the last thing he does is tug the lapels of Michael’s jacket so it settles neat back over his shoulders.

(He really hopes Alex doesn’t look down.)

The silence rattles around the cavernous hallway. Nothing but linoleum and concrete and emptiness in every direction, but Michael and Alex stand occupying the same foot of space, breathing in each other’s air.

Clearing his throat, Michael says, “Uh, I was just—got a little hot in there. What are you doing out here?”

Alex’s eyes dart off to the side, and he chews on his lower lip. Michael is about to say he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to when the door Michael came through bursts open and spills out four or five loud voices. The color drains from Alex’s face, and Michael doesn’t think, just says:

“I know a place. Come on.”

The two of them take off, cutting through all the shortcuts Michael knows until they reach the narrow auditorium accessway. Even this late at night, the door to the janitor’s closet remains blessedly unlocked.

One thing he didn’t plan for though: it’s a little cramped for two people. Michael’s “don’t look down” problem is going to become a different problem entirely if Alex gets too fidgety. Luckily, it’s at least too dark for Alex to see how he’s lighting up pink.

Potential for embarrassment aside, Michael doesn’t like the angry hunch of Alex’s shoulders, the ducked head, the clenched jaw. He wants to reach out and, and hug him, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. Doesn’t know if comforting him like that would be okay. So he stumbles out, “Hey, a-are you okay? I know it’s probably a stupid question since it’s prom and we’re standing in a janitor’s closet, but—"

“I’m just pissed. It’s Valenti. He keeps popping up, and he hasn’t said anything yet, but I know he’s going to. And everywhere I look there’s a football player staring back. I shouldn’t let Valenti get to me. I kept telling myself this year would be different after last year was so boring and crappy but I’ve spent all night avoiding his stupid cronies instead of having any fun. And then I almost decapitated a perfectly innocent guitar-stealing weirdo.” At that last sentence, his eyes flick to Michael’s and he makes an attempt at a smile, at lessening the tension.

Michael’s shoulders drop in relief, and heart skipping a beat at Alex’s mention of last year, he licks his lips. Last year wasn’t boring for Michael. He’s kind of been measuring time in terms of before last year and after he started waking up with Alex’s name on his lips.

“Night’s not over yet. Pretty much everyone’s still out there. But hey, as Roswell’s resident guitar-stealing weirdo, I totally get it if that’s more your idea of a good time.”

Alex laughs an actual laugh, and Michael has to glance down to make sure he’s just being a sappy dork and hasn’t actually floated off the floor. Then Alex gets serious again and shakes his head.

“Going out and dancing by myself would just encourage them. ‘Get a load of Manes, he’s a loser and a—”

“Who says you’d be alone?” Michael’s voice comes out embarrassingly high-pitched, and he jams a knuckle against his lips. Alex glances at him, one eyebrow cocked, sharp dark eyes flicking left to right like Michael is a puzzle he’s been trying to solve for days.

Maybe even longer.

Outside their little sanctuary and a hallway over, a locker door crashes and the voices from before whoop loudly. The two boys flinch together, and without thinking Michael grabs Alex’s elbow and tugs him slightly behind him, putting himself between Alex and the door. They stay like that for a long moment, as the bangs and shouts move away and go silent. Michael’s head is tilted so he can still look Alex in the eye. Alex’s pupils are dilated in the dim light, but the effect is the same as if—Michael feels a little devoured, just then, a little eaten up. He’s never felt like this before. He wants to bury himself in Alex’s chest and trust Alex to hold him tight. Those long, dark eyelashes flutter every time Alex blinks, and Michael wants to feel them against his cheeks.

Alone again, the outside world feels so far away. Michael turns fully and rocks up onto his toes to bring their mouths closer together, just because he can. “Whaddya say, Manes?” he asks, jerking his thumb in the direction of the faint, faint music.

Alex draws himself up so tall and close it makes Michael’s heart beat faster. His heart falls again, though, when Alex shakes his head.

Then Alex says, “Nah. Not here. If you really want to, you can take me out some other time, where we don’t have to put up with those assholes. Deal?”

He skims his fingertips over the back of Michael’s hand. It restarts Michael’s heart in double-time, makes goosebumps erupt all down that arm. His curls bounce up and down as he nods his head. It’s scary—god, how is he going to come up with something for them to do?—but also Michael can’t stop smiling.

“Maybe I kind of wanted to dance with you, though,” he says.

Alex chuffs a little laugh. “Then maybe I’ll just have to go to dances more often.”

“We-eelllll…” Michael can’t help the spread of his grin, even though all the smiling makes his cheeks hurt. “When you do, maybe you’ll save a spot on your schedule for me?” He knocks his scuffed-up shoe against Alex’s. He’s so warm in this little space they’ve made together. He always picks his hiding places because they feel safe, but he had no idea he could feel like this.

“Yeah.” Alex swallows twice, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I will. I’ll save a spot for you right at the end.”

“The end? That gonna give us enough time?”

“Last song’s as long as you want it to be. Sometimes it even keeps going once you get home.”

Just like that, Michael’s uncomfortable problem is back. His heels hit the floor again flat, and he splutters all undignified as the closet lights up white with Alex’s feral grin.

“I think they’re gone. Shall we?” Alex says while Michael tries to collect himself.

“U-uh, yeah. After you.”

They climb out of the closet into the now-deserted hallway. Alex reaches out and steadies Michael when he stumbles over the lip of the doorframe, but the weight and sensation of his hands just makes Michael feel like Jell-O. At the intersection of the hallway—one side leading back to the dance, one side leading outdoors—Alex stops, grabbing Michael’s wrist to jerk him to a halt too.

“Alex?”

He doesn’t get a response, just intense, calculating eyes boring into him, staring him down. It’s been Michael’s greatest lifelong fear, being dissected, but he lets it happen now. Alex’s eyes pin him down spread-eagle on a steel table, but standing so close to him, leashed by that hand around his wrist, he only feels drifting and docile like a beehive smoked out. He wants to ask what’s wrong but can’t make his brain connect to his mouth to make words.

Slowly, oh-so slowly, Alex reaches out and, with just two fingers, smooths that loose curl back behind Michael’s ear. Michael’s mouth pops open on a breathy little sound as Alex follows that path again, stoking his forehead, combing through his hair. Then Alex nods, just once, like he’s come to some decision. Michael doesn’t know what it might be, but it’s okay, he’s cool with Alex calling the shots from now on as long as they can stay close like this.

“I’m going to the bathroom to freshen up a bit,” Alex says. “Meet me outside by the trellis? We can get food or something before everywhere closes.”

“Y-yeah, sounds good. I’m here with Isobel, but I’ll—I’ll let her or Max know.”

Alex gives him a little smile before he walks away. Michael sways in his direction just a little bit before he collects himself and goes the other way.

Standing under the latticework and the fairy lights, Michael closes his eyes and lets the night feel magical. He lets the whole, vast night wrap around him like the scent of Alex’s cologne pressed up against him in a tiny janitor’s closet. His mind whirls and crashes but for once the noise just sounds like singing.

What if Alex kisses him? Michael’s lower lip tingles, and he bites at it to make it stop. He’s not some blushing virgin; just because Alex is tall and his dark eyeliner makes his eyes look even darker, doesn’t mean Michael should be acting like a princess.

Alex has never had a boyfriend, at least not that Michael knows about. Maybe Alex is a virgin. Maybe Michael could be his first—

The thought makes Michael’s heart skip a beat, and he almost slaps himself before remembering that he is, technically, in public. You’re getting way ahead of yourself, he thinks. Who says Alex wants to be anything more than friends? Maybe Alex doesn’t even want him just because he’s offering. Besides, Michael’s never been with a guy either, so maybe he’d be crap at it…

Great, now he’s just depressed.

“Dude, are you okay? You just went on one hell of a face journey.”

Michael startles bad for the second time tonight, but this time when he whirls around it’s just Max.

“Dude, you know not to sneak up on me.” He smacks Max lightly on the shoulder, and Max rolls with it, nodding.

“You’re right, I know. Seriously, though, you okay? Where have you been all night?”

“Spent most of it with Is, why?”

“Well, she was alone a little while ago when she drove off.”

“She left?”

“Yeah. Said she wasn’t feeling it or something.”

“She was fine when I left her. Hell, she was the one who told me to go.”

They face each other under the fairy lights. Max won’t stop staring. Michael’s skin feels too small for his body.

Finally, Max says, “I’m sure she’s fine. There are a hundred Isobel reasons why she’d want to leave early.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right,” Michael replies, weak with relief. “How’re you going to get home? I’ve,” he runs his hand through the curls at the back of his neck, “made plans, but, uh, what about you?”

“I’ll figure something out.” Max’s voice trails off, his attention already wandering. “I don’t want to leave until Liz does, in case…”

Michael lets out a little bubble of laughter. Shine on you crazy diamond.

“Why don’t you go find her? I’m sure Valenti will stop pissing on her leg long enough for you to get in one dance. Also I’m meeting someone here, so like, would kind of love to not have my dork-ass brother hanging around.”

Max scoffs and shoves at Michael’s head. “Shut up. I’m the cool brother and you know that.”

“Uh huh, says who? Tolstoy? Dostoyevsky?”

“Sholokhov, plebian.”

“Ugh, you disgust me.”

Max laughs again. Then he glances up at the building, brow furrowed. Michael follows his line of sight, heart leaping when he sees Alex hurrying down the stairs, then plummeting into his stomach as Valenti and the rest of the starting line spill out in pursuit.

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

The night ends sudden after that. The football players disperse, and Max does too, either home or wherever Liz Ortecho went, Michael doesn’t really care. There’s a cold little grain of disappointment in his chest, but the skin of his shoulder still burns where Alex squeezed him as he left.

Michael trails his path out to the parking lot, in no particular hurry, now, for the night to end. Alex is long gone. Michael hopes Liz managed to give him some comfort before he drove away, left angry to a house that hates him, and—

He decides then and there that he’s going to the toolshed that night. He hadn’t been sure if he would before, not sure how taking Alex’s charity would affect things between them. But all he care about now is being there, being close enough that maybe it brings Alex a little peace, as if he can feel him, even if he doesn’t know he’s there.

Something rustles under his foot as he steps off the sidewalk, and he moves his foot aside to reveal a champagne-colored rose, delicate and tightly-furled. The same one that had been threaded through Alex’s buttonhole when they stood so close their chests nearly brushed.

Michael cups it in his hands like it might fly away. That night, he fills one of his cupholders full of water and floats it there for want of a vase.

And there it stays.

#malex #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico

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ewankoseyo · 5 years

Text

a chance || yugyeom imagine

A/N: A kind anon requested this last week and I finally got the time to sit down and finish it. Please enjoy! :)

“an imagine where yugyeom and y/n are shipped together by the media and while yugyeom is super shy about it cause he likes y/n, y/n plays along with the ship like promoting yugyeom’s dances, and talking about him in variety shows. yugyeom is super confused if she’s doing this for the boost it’s giving both their careers or bc if she likes him as well”

——

“Close your mouth already, you’ll catch flies.”

Jinyoung smirked over at Yugyeom, who had spent the last ten minutes scrolling through his phone with his jaw practically on the floor. Yugyeom stopped scrolling to glare at the older boy.

“This is all your guys’ fault!”

“Us?” Jinyoung feigned a shocked gasp, placing a hand over his chest. “Whatever do you mean?”

Yugyeom sighed and continued scrolling, still unable to process what he was seeing. “If it weren’t for you guys going on and on about me being the ‘biggest fan’ of the ‘nation’s newest songbird’ on that show yesterday, the whole internet wouldn’t be shipping me with her!” Yugyeom shoved his phone in Jinyoung’s hands. A pormanteau of your name and Yugyeom’s was currently the most trending hashtag on the internet. Clips from yesterday’s talk show of the boys making fun of Yugyeom for being a fan of you were shared countless times.

“I know you guys must be really busy with the recent comeback but in your downtime is there anyone you like to keep up with? Any new music you’re listening to or...?” The interviewer trailed off.

“I think you’re setting us up perfectly, because actually...” Jackson slung an arm around Yugyeom’s shoulders. Yugyeom inwardly groaned, bracing himself for the roasts that were going to come out of this interview. “We wanna talk about how our maknae here has grown very fond of a certain someone!”

“Yeah, you know that really popular cover of ‘You Are’ that everyone keeps talking about?” Bambam piped up.

“Ah, from the nation’s newest songbird? No one can get enough of her YouTube videos. It seems as if she blew up overnight. Didn’t she just join your label?”

Jinyoung cut Yugyeom off before he could get a word in. “That’s correct. But our Gyeomie has been watching her for a while.” Yugyeom attempted to fight off Jinyoung from pinching his cheek.

“He’s one of her many subscribers and has watched all of her covers,” Youngjae joined.

“Is that true Yugyeom?” The interviewer inquired with an eyebrow raised. “What do you like about her?”

“Yes, please tell us Gyeomie,” Jaebum teased. The boys sat on the talk show couch with their heads propped up by their hands, giving Yugyeom their full attention.

“It’s no big deal, I just, uh...” Yugyeom glanced around at all the expectant faces staring back at him, searching for an answer that would prevent any sort of broadcasting incident. “I just really expect her as an artist? She has a unique and powerful voice that puts a twist on her covers. Her original songs are good too...so yeah...”

The boys broke out in laughter from his weak explanation, taking turns in between to make fun of him.

“Aww...Yugyeom’s blushing! Wait until she watches this! We’re going to get this trending online to make sure she does!”

Jinyoung tossed Yugyeom back his phone. “You’re talking about this like it’s a bad thing. You do like her.”

“Yes, but I can’t let the whole world know that...I can’t let her know that.” Yugyeom groaned morosely. “What if she saw the interview?”

“I’m sure she has, but she hasn’t said anything about it yet though,” Jaebum added, coming out of his room to join Yugyeom and Jinyoung in the lounge. He took a seat next to Yugyeom, looking at him expectantly as he showed the younger boy what he was watching on his phone. “I’m surprised you weren’t watching this already, I thought you would have been one of her first few viewers.”

Jaebum and Jinyoung snickered when Yugyeom’s eyes nearly popped out of the sockets, realizing what he was watching. He grabbed Jaebum’s phone out of his hands, holding it closer to his face. You were doing an Instagram live to thousands of viewers, greeting all of those who commented asking you to say hi to them. Yugyeom couldn’t help the small smile forming on his lips as he watched you giggle from reading some of the comments. It was the same laugh he had fallen in love with thousands of times before.

“Oh, JB-sunbaenim is watching this. Hello!” You waved to the camera. “Thank you for watching this and thank you for all of the support from you and the other members. I’m so honored to be in the same company as you!”

The older members silently gave each other knowing looks and smirked as an almost-inaudible squeal unknowingly escaped the back of Yugyeom’s throat. Though your greeting was not directed necessarily to him, he found your just being entirely adorable. Just when he thought it was impossible for you to get cuter, you would manage to outdo yourself without even trying. The whole thing was killing the poor boy.

Yugyeom’s smile was growing by the second as you explained how you were in the dressing room getting ready for a variety show you were guest starring on, until he noticed the upcoming comments.

“JB-oppa is watching this? Maybe Yugyeom-oppa is watching this too!”

“Did you see what Yugyeom said about you yesterday?”

“Unnie, what do you think of Yugyeom?”

“I ship you with Yugyeom. Please make this happen!”

Seeing these comments, Yugyeom felt his soul leave his body. Jaebum and Jinyoung didn’t bother to hold back their laughter as Yugyeom threw Jaebum’s phone back in his lap. He buried his face in a couch pillow, muffling his distressed screams. “Why?! Just kill me already!”

Jaebum forced Yugyeom to sit back up, shoving the phone back in his face. “Wait, let’s just keep watching. It’s getting good.”

“What do I think of Yugyeom-sunbaenim?” Yugyeom’s ears perked up as you read a comment out loud. He grabbed the phone back, eagerly awaiting your answer. “He’s really nice! I’ve run into him a few times at the company and he was nothing but kind to me even if he was busy. He’s helped me to feel very welcome over there.”

“So when the time comes, you guys better have six kids and name them after all six of us,” Jinyoung joked. Yugyeom shushed Jinyoung without removing his eyes from the screen as you continued speaking.

“Hopefully one day I could collaborate with him and the rest of the group. I’ve been following them since day one. I just love Yugyeom-sunbaenim’s dancing! My favorite is from that one show...”

Yugyeom had just about turned into the heart-eyes emoji, staring at the screen with unabashed happiness as you went on and on about his dancing. You didn’t mention anything about watching his interview from yesterday, but maybe what you were saying meant that there was hope that you could possibly like him back? Yugyeom’s heart melted at the thought. How did he manage to fall so hard for you in such a short amount of time?

Yugyeom handed Jaebum’s phone back as you ended the live feed to finish preparing for the show. He moved to grab his coat off the rack and opened the front door.

“Where are you going all of a sudden?” Jaebum asked.

“I think I’ll go practice some dance moves,” Yugyeom replied with a smitten smile before heading out the door.

What happened the next few days should have made Yugyeom happy, but he grew suspicious instead.

Your variety show episode aired the next day. During a game where you had to quickly decide which you liked better between two choices, an image of Yugyeom kept coming up alongside images of other handsome celebrities. Though the show did this to you as a joke in response to recent events, you happily chose Yugyeom each time. When asked about this, you simply replied that you couldn’t betray your labelmate. Despite his heart racing from watching the episode (in the privacy of his own room so the other boys couldn’t make fun of him, of course,) he tried not to think too much of this.

But then after that, you kept talking about him on social media. You shared GOT7′s comeback videos online, but with captions only praising Yugyeom (“If I had Yugyeom-sunbaenim’s feet, I’d never stop dancing!”) You had commented on a fan’s picture of Yugyeom giving the camera a suggestive look at a recent concert with a heart-eyes emoji. When a fan tweeted you asking who you would date in GOT7 besides Yugyeom, you responded by saying you were unable to choose a member that wasn’t Yugyeom.

All of this didn’t go unnoticed by his fans, who would tag him to these posts, asking Yugyeom what he thought. Yugyeom kept quiet, never responding to the matter since it started, because truthfully, he didn’t know what to think anymore. He was (somewhat) fine when his little crush on you was exposed. He half-expected the fans to go crazy about it for a short while, then the buzz would die down if he or the other members never brought it up publicly again. Yugyeom would just live peacefully with his semi-private feelings (and the occasional teasing from the boys.)

But you were actively responding to the fans about the ship, though never directly addressing what Yugyeom had said on the show. You had never mentioned him publicly before, besides the times when you would talk about being a fan of his group. But you were talking about all of the members then. Now, it was almost as if you were encouraging the fans on with this ship. You never confirmed whether it was real, but you also didn’t shy away when people talked about you and Yugyeom. He should have been over the moon from the way you kept talking about him, but when he realized how many more thousands of followers and views on your videos you had gained in such a short amount of time, Yugyeom was beginning to feel, well...used.

Did you really have a thing for him or were you just saying all of that for the publicity?

“I don’t know what she’s thinking right now, but maybe it’s time you go out and do something about it, you know?” Mark suggested casually one day when Yugyeom voiced his concern with the older members. After an honest pep talk with them (“Just grow a pair and confront her already!”) Yugyeom decided he was going to have a word with you about the situation when he had the chance.

That chance turned out to be the following weekend where you were both attending a music awards show. When his manager told him he would be presenting an award with you, Yugyeom knew he had to act fast. As he was backstage mentally rehearsing his confrontation with you, Yugyeom felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned around, whatever speech he had prepared for you completely left his head.

Yugyeom was at a loss for words. You stood there shyly with your hands behind your back, giving him a small smile. With the way your hair was pulled back elegantly, giving him a better view of your face, and the way your gown subtly accentuated your features to make you look like millions of dollars, Yugyeom nearly let himself fall for you all over again.

Nearly. Remembering what his older members told him and the mission at hand, Yugyeom shook those thoughts out of his head.

“Hi,” you greeted him softly with a small wave. “It’s great seeing you again. I was really happy to hear that we were going to be presenting together.”

Yugyeom balled his hands into fists down beside him for a final push of encouragement before donning an unamused expression.

“Are you though?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you really happy to be presenting with me?” Yugyeom pried, a hint of bitterness laced in his tone.

“Yes...? Why wouldn’t I be?” Your mouth shifted into a frown. You didn’t expect this interaction to play out like this. Yugyeom seemed...upset with you? But why?

Noticing your growing discomfort and hesitance with him, Yugyeom dialed back. Even though he was supposed to be confronting you, he didn’t want you to shy away from him. Yugyeom sighed as his hands fumbled nervously below him.

“Do you like me?”

Yugyeom mentally slapped himself. He didn’t mean to be so forward.

“Of course, that’s why I’m happy to be presenting with you,” you replied innocently.

“No, I mean do you actually like me?”

Yugyeom looked at you with wide eyes, holding his breath as he anticipated your answer.

“Yes...” Your answer almost came out as a whisper. You looked down, unable to look him in the eye as you felt your face growing warmer by the second. “Yes, I do like you.”

Hearing the sincerity amid the reservation in your voice, Yugyeom let out a sigh of relief. “But why?”

“Why?” Your eyes shot back up at him. Was that even a real question? “Because I think you’re so cool and you’re such a great singer and dancer and I look up to you. You’re passionate and funny and you care about your fans so much and you’re basically the nation’s most eligible bachelor,” you rambled. With every word that seemed to flow carelessly from your mouth, you wished the ground would just swallow you up whole to save you from embarrassment. “...I thought the whole world knew I felt this way already.”

Yugyeom’s mouth opened and closed in an attempt to find the words to say next. “But I thought—I didn’t know...please don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you were just...using me...”

“What do you mean?”

He furiously shook his head, trying to diffuse any anger and misunderstanding that would arise from you. “I mean, you just joined the same label as me and started to get even more popular than you already were after that whole thing on that show I was on and then you were responding to all the fans about it...but you never mentioned it before that...so I just thought...”

“Sunbaenim,” You sighed, looking almost hurt. Yugyeom’s heart nearly broke at your crestfallen expression. “I’ve never talked about it before because I respected you so much. Then I joined the company and there was a higher chance of me seeing you more often than just in short passing, maybe even us working directly together, and so I kept quiet so I wouldn’t embarrass myself. But then you mentioned me on that show, and the fans kept talking about us, so I thought that maybe I had—”

“A chance?”

“Yes...” You looked down again. “So I kept talking about you online...in hopes that maybe you’d notice me again...”

It was quiet for a moment. You were sure you had blown it with Yugyeom and were ready to make a run for the bathroom to cry when you felt his hands gently take hold of your bare arms. Your head shot up only to be met with his sincere gaze.

“I really like you too, if you didn’t already know it,” Yugyeom whispered. Feeling his fingertips burn from the light touch, he abruptly dropped his hands behind back. Yugyeom mimicked the shy smile inching its way on your lips and looked down at his feet bashfully. “I’m really really really sorry about this whole misunderstanding. It’s just difficult to gauge someone’s true intentions when it comes to the work we do, you know? But that doesn’t excuse how much of a dick I’ve been acting to you just now. Do you think we could just start over and try again?” Yugyeom looked back at you hopefully.

You beamed at him, sending a wave of warmth rolling through his stomach. “Of course, Sunbaenim.”

“Good,” Yugyeom smiled back at you before taking one of your arms to loop it through his. “Now let’s go. I think we’ve got an award to present?” You blushed once again as he sent a playful smirk your way. “Also, we don’t need to be so formal with each other. You’re older than me, Noona.”

You hid your face in his arm, a soft and short bashful squeal escaping your lips as he walked you to the curtain behind the stage. “Okay Sun—I mean, Yugyeom.”

As you called him by his name, Yugyeom was sure he had fallen for you all over again.

And when the fans saw the way he looked at you as the two of you walked out on stage arm-in-arm, they were sure too.

——

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 oneshot #kim yugyeom #im jaebum #mark tuan #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #bambam #got7 fic #got7 requests #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfic #kpop fic

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aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years

Text

Hi babes! Chapter 4 for you! It’s a biggie!

Eternally grateful to the tripod, without @dirtystyles -and @bleedinglove4h I would fall on my face- maybe into someone’s cleavage if I timed it right!!

Ski Da Yo- Chapter 4

It's silly really, the entire scenario that she's found herself in. Ada could laugh, nobody would hear it over the music. It's loud, and people are taking turns at the stage. Though She could go join the group, she should, rather than lurking in the corner like a weirdo, fixated on a previous performance. She's not laughing, even at herself. She'd kinda drooling, way more embarrassing.

But she just had to watch him.

He was in his element, relaxed, on, charming, lit up like a Christmas tree. Merry, bright.

She'd never seen him like this, in the flesh. Glimpses, in the interviews she watched and called research. She'd seen the fuss there, agreed to the picture partly on the strength of it.

She could see it, what the fuss was about. And it was the first real glimpse she'd had, besides those moments she felt she had to steal from him to get on film. She was beginning to think there was a limited supply of Styles' magic. Perhaps, that was why she was only able to get a precious few minutes a day.

Watching him now, that did not seem to be the case. Harry was incandescent and she felt blinded by the light. She could chalk that up to all of her rockstar fantasizes brought to life, but it didn't explain everyone else's rapt attention on him, their enthrallment. Maybe they all had a grunge fetish too?

When she walked in and she clocked him, even with the stupid glasses that obscured his face, festive she supposed, he looked different.

On set he looked, perfect was the word that came to mind, but not in the way people usually meant. Polished and made up and proper in his prince clothes. Perfect, fake. And anxious, like the film was a bit of an albatross around his neck. Or maybe the pressure. And he looked like it was heavy, all the trappings trapping him. Ada worried over it. Like, the movie made him regress. Maybe it felt too familiar. He said that a lot when they talked about scenes, when he was frustrated with himself.

"I know just how he feels."

Because he had been there. Is that why he had such a hard time getting the shot? Because it made him freak out a little, feel like he'd not called his own shots for years? But he'd made these choices. Had agency. Maybe she could help him see it as therapeutic. Because it was a way to safely rebel - a redo, no risk.

She'd talk to him about it. They needed to have that drink. She could order him one now.

Ada shook her head. Not tonight. She didn't want to kill his vibe tonight. It was too lovely to watch, and to live she guessed. No shop talk.

He looked light as a cloud, and as soft edged too. Nothing perfect or fake about him. His skin was a little slick under the stage lights, the ridges near his nose were shiny especially. He had glitter on his cheeks, but not like highlighter, like the glasses he wore were cheap, and shedding tiny pieces of shine.

But he did shine.

And he had sounded good.

Not everybody could sing Nirvana, in a chest voice no less.

She was weaned on that. And really into indie rock, especially grunge, while her dad was fostering 90's slick hip hop. It was a silly means of rebellion, but she took her opportunities to disappoint Garner seriously.

She remembered her dad had called the cover of in utero obscene, which made her laugh as he had just put out a video full of nearly naked females in bikinis, but anatomical drawings were obscene. Okay.

She had snuck a new copy in after he threw the first one away and poured over the lyrics in her baggy jeans and crop top with a flannel. Had a giant crush on Kurt, May he Rest In Peace, and when she met Dave Grohl it may have been the only time she was really starstruck.

Well, she felt like she had been hit about the head by a celestial being currently. Harry had it, that was for sure. How had she missed it? The bushel basket he'd been hiding his light under must have been thick. There was something obscuring her view or his personality definitely. Not tonight. Star power was all over him tonight; that was the boy she had signed up to direct. Right there, from those red carpet clips she'd watched. Those sold her and then she had watched concert footage, shaking camera and all. Those were another level. This silly karaoke gig almost matched the wattage when he was bedecked and bantering on stage. He looked dashing, and like he could carry a movie on his thick shoulder pads all with a joke on his vibrant lips. That man was in this building, singing one of her all time favorite songs. It had an effect.

Wow, the rasp in his voice. God, she was still reeling and hiding out in the back like her crush was nearby.

Her eyes widened.

That's what was going on! She was doing what she had done with Danny Diaz in 10th grade. She wasn't teenage dream obsessed about him, really. But, she'd paid him a lot of attentions, clandestinely. He'd been so cool, and was really into raving. Which, in hindsight, made his post high school life a little clearer. But he liked music that had nothing to do with her dad and he was cute, had long bangs and a shaved head and he could dance! She loved to dance.

She needed to go, before this bloomed like a cherry blossom and she fell off in a great big clump to wait for shoe marks. Like 10th grade, only less poetic.

The pathway to the door was clear. Her heels on the floor made a click click click, though nobody should be able to hear it. She turned back to make sure nobody was following her, was watching, and her heel caught, right in a crack in the concrete floor.

"Shit!" Her ankle twisted and her heard a crunch, that was not good, but her trajectory to the ground wasn't either. Her hands went out to catch her.

He smelled good, like leather a bit, smoky, with a sweet tinge. And he caught her and hoisted her up like she was feather light. She never felt like that, because she was the tallest of her friends, not even tall, just taller, and she had never been small. She had that insta baddie body before it was popular. Grown up in the big titty, little hippy 90's. She always felt huge.

But not right now. He had her, was righting her before her weight came down and she properly broke something. This felt like that time she'd sprained her ankle jumping fences to go skating with the boys. Stupid heels.

Back to the rom com moment she found herself in. He's caught her under the arms. His hands span her whole armpit and his fingers curled into her scapula. Ada spared a thought for how sweaty her underarms might be. Yuck! But she should be ok, she'd gotten properly ready, lots of antiperspirant. She knew that, took a deep breath and then realized she'd missed something. He's staring at her expectantly. The rockstar with the totally revealed charm. Harry.

"What?" It came out with no finesse, like a burp.

"You ok?" Harry was kinda grinning and loose, left eye more hooded than his right, and his breath, definitely 80 proof. She heard the shift and he's no longer got her in a dip fit for a tango . She felt like she'd been whirled and thrilled.

"Um, I think I'm ok." She realized they were still locked in an embrace when she tried to check her foot. Ada looked down at the place his hands had migrated to, on her hips. She didn't really need to look, she could feel all ten fingertips, like little bruise marks formed from hope not pressure. It saved her from looking at her own hands where they were full of the muscular forearms she knew to be covered in tattoos beneath the green button-up he had on. It was a a stall.

But Harry released her the minute he saw her eyeing his familiar hands. She had him well trained apparently. Massive walls between them. They were massively out of place at the moment, regrettable. She wasn't balanced on her feet yet either. Ada nearly fell before he steadied her with a rebound hand at her hip. She caught it to stand on one foot, for safety.

Her ankle circled around ok. She felt a twinge of pain, but it was entirely manageable. That was good. She'd probably need to stay off of it, no treadmill tomorrow, and she'd need to elevate it. Ice too, she could ask the bartender for some. She was plotting how to locate an ace type bandage, and who would be best to ask for that. They may have some in makeup - they'd used them to bind breasts on Wildflower, but she couldn't think why they'd have them for this movie. Harry had perky nipples, but they didn't need to be bound. Stop thinking about Harry's nipples. The lowlight would thankfully mask her blush. Wait, Maybe she could ask his friend, Masa, he owned a gym.

Harry. She could ask him too. And that would be really easy because he was still right there. Holding her hand.

They had laced their fingers at her hip. Ada looked at Harry, he had a huge lazy smile on his face. Pleased as punch. She was punch drunk, though she wouldn't say it. He looked so young and toothy. Though the gathering of sweat at his hairline, little droplets above his upper lip, made him real. Imperfect.

She shook herself and their hands unlatched. "I need ice I think?" Of course she needed ice. What was she talking about? Who even was she? Next she's start babbling, and tuck her hair behind her ear and duck her chin.

"Yeah, and a way to put it up." His head swiveled around and he nodded. "C'mon." He gently took her arm and looped it around his shoulder. He was just tall enough.

The table was closer than she would have liked, a walk under his arms was worth remembering, but it was good for her foot. Harry sat her in a booth and put both hands out in a straight stay there motion then grabbed a chair and propped up her ankle gently. The wrong one, but she went with it.

"Be right back." He tripped a little as he looped off to the bar. Ah, that looked normal. The trip to the bar was only the chorus of the song too. He didn't wait long for the bartender. The whole place seemed to be filled with their group, pleasantly vibrant, but not busy. . It was a quick exchange, with a little sign language thrown in. He was big on hand talking on a normal day. Gesticulating when he described most things. He was very full body engaged and engaging before scenes, before he floated away on her.

Huh, she just thought about that, Henry wasn't gesticulative. A little more in the Akio scenes.

She hadn't noticed that Harry had layered physical control into his performance. She found herself nodding. That was good. Made total sense for a royal.

He was walking back to her now with a thin white towel and he was crunching ice in it. Oh shit - she hadn't switched feet, she'd been watching him.

"Cold!" She flinched, "a little warning Styles!"

"Sorry," he chuckled. "I figured me walking from the bar with a towel after I went over to get ice was warning enough." He curled his tongue a little at her and the ice gave her goosebumps.

Wow, maybe he needed liquid courage on set sometimes. All his nerves were gone.

"Usually someone tells you they are about to put ice on you, even nurses, unless they are trying to be little shits!" She arched one of her brows st him. They were her favorite feature and she used them to her advantage.

"You got me, just wanted to see you squirm, since you get to see me uncomfortable a lot." His slow cadence sometimes bugged her on set. It was another thing she could find irritating, during the literal 11th hour. Ada talked fast. She talked a mile a minute on set because they had shit to do and her brain was usually ten paces ahead of her mouth.

But it was kinda nice, the way he took his time.

"You sounded really good! When you were singing." Oh God he blushed. It was his job to sing, did he know that? "You moonlight in a Nirvana cover band often?" She flexed her foot where his hand was still moving ice around to find the sore ligaments, on the wrong foot. She followed the fire and ice.

He squawked a laugh. "No, just the one time, and only because Kunichi is so persistent. I think he could sell bad fish to a Tokyo chef!" He raised his eyebrows and Ada caught her hand just before she covered her laugh.

"So, it's not the song you've always wanted to sing? That wasn't you living out your teenage rock dream?" He shook his head, just hers then.

"Oh, it's a great song, I love rock." He moved his head like, obviously. His body of work spoke to that. "But I like a little more melody when I'm convinced to do karaoke," he made a drinking motion and she was laughing again. "I like disco divas and duets. And if there is absolutely nobody around to tell on me or god forbid, record, Britney Spears is a blast to perform." He'd placed his hand to block his lips from curious eyes and leaned in to tell her this secret. His lips were plump, they like to reach out and touch her faith.

She was thirsty.

Oh shit, did she just say that out loud? How much had she already had, while skulking in the shadows?

"Sure, what do you fancy?" Quicksilver grin, poisonous and enigmatic.

"Um," what had she already had? "A dirty martini!"

"How dirty?" He flashed his eyebrows.

"Very, three extra olives." She gave him her single brow, the one that she used to dare him when that was what he needed on set.

"Three olives!" He made a shocked face. "Well, I never." And he gave her the goofiest grin and went to grab her drink. He looked comfortable. Like a favorite hoodie she wanted to wear. She only got to really watch him one way. He was back quickly.

He sat by her when he put down her cloudy drink. She'd switched legs while he was away and thought she'd got away with it, but caught his eye as he was studying her legs and he smirked at her.

That was a damn good face. "You need to do that for the scene Monday, the one at the club." Ada segued seamlessly into shop talk. She was actually really excited about that one. It was set at a place she had frequented in her time here; she had really happy memories. She was feeling really excited too, this felt like an actual fresh start, she should have taken Harry up on his offer of a drink ages ago. He was a joy loose. This was the rapport they needed, him loose and smirky, handsome with a side of solicitous and cocky sauce. This was the Harry Styles she'd been waiting for!

🇯🇵🇯🇵🇯🇵🇯🇵

Harry felt like he should get an Oscar for this performance. For his steady hands, that he was currently sitting on, and the confident smirk. It wasn't all an act, but the amount of times he'd had to turn this on like a lightbulb in an interview was invaluable right now. It was mostly fake those times, maybe even faker now. He had been relaxed and joyous, and then he had been so relieved to see her smile at him, he just went with it. But the minute he walked away from her, the first time, for the ice, the nerves kicked in. But he faked it, like a seasoned porn star, because she was looking at him, and touching him, and holy shit! Ada Scott was hanging with him. He would keep the action and make the moans believable.

Wow! Was this the way women felt all the time? When they had to put on some performance for the man they were interested in, or for the men they weren't, but couldn't offend?

It felt easier to relax tonight. The day had set him up for success. Things had ended so well on set, and he'd been in the best mood, and had gotten brave. He'd gone to her trailer. To invite her again. Harry was excited about the evening at the bar and seeing music, though he wasn't sure what it would be like, because it wasn't a gig, nor karaoke, some hybrid he had been told. He liked novel nights out.

But everybody was coming. His whole Japanese network, including Jeff and Masa and his girl!

Everybody but Ada. So he'd put on his man panties and went going to ask her. She needed to be there, and even though she'd turned down all of his invitations and returned the replacement shoes, he was going to ask her again. For the whole cast. They had months left and needed to bond.

He needed to bond with her. It felt possible after their day on set, her brow wasn't creased and she didn't speed walk away. She slowed down enough for him to keep up. They'd had a conversation, not about a scene. He'd kept up and not drifted away on her voice. She walked and talked fast. He liked it.

Masa loved to laugh at him, and was doing just that while he psyched himself up to go talk to her. "Just go ask the lady." He'd arrived to take him back to the hotel to Harry stalling. Masa was giving him a look.

His grin was presumptuous. Harry didn't like it. It felt like he knew. Yuki knee, Masa might. Harry did, know, but he didn't think he was so obvious. Did she know?

"You need a tutu?" Masa heckled.

"What?"

"Your mind is like a dancer on drugs," he made a flitting motion with his hands. "you might need a tutu for making the decision. "

"Oh fuck off, man!"

"Just go ask her. It's a cast party, I haven't even met her and she's supposed to be the leader. She needs to come. A leader should." Masa's brow shrunk.

"She is the leader, she's the boss!" He was full of defenses for her. "If you were allowed on set you'd see."

"Oh, I'm not allowed." Harry had neglected to outright tell him that, just let him be distracted, that would run out when they had to go on location. Whoops.

"You'd make fun of me, I've been totally fucking up. So you aren't allowed. At all."

"Isn't the movie about a royal fucking up?" Masa said after catching his wheezing breath. He sounded like a dragon with hay fever.

Hmmm, Harry'd have to have a think on that. That was a plot point he should consider when he was flagellating himself. Maybe he could use it, all his self frustration. He shook himself and jumped up and down like he was going on stage, when he turned around to tell Masa he was going, he was laughing at him, again.

"What now?"

"Are you going to punch her?" He gulped the air. "You do that before you box."

"I just need to hype myself up." Harry shook his head out.

"She must be really pretty."

"Shut up." She was really pretty, but it had been an asset today, made the scene work and Harry had decided he needed exposure therapy. So he needed to be around her, more. He was gonna go talk to her, get used to her face.

He strode to her trailer and stopped cold outside before he could knock. For once, it was not over nerves, but his jaw which had dropped to the floor. That sound as coming from her trailer.

She was singing. Well! To Mary J. Blige's Real Love. And he wanted to sit on the little steps up to her door and listen.

So she could have gone into the music business, had everything going for her there. Connected daddy, pretty face, hot body, and pipes. Wow, she could belt! He had goosebumps. Her voice was rich and evocative. Deeper that he expected.

And he could not talk to her. Not now. Now she was even more impressive.

So he did what any brave young lad would do.

He asked his manager to do it.

Jeff smirked, but sent the text. And like the magic 8 ball he could be, he made the face he did when the outlook wasn't good.

So Harry had resigned himself to Ada not coming to the bar. He was disappointed, but also relieved. Those two feelings must be dating as often as he felt them together when it came to Ada. If she didn't come, he could relax and have fun, let loose, but not bond with her, or have another chance to impress her. Or throw up on her. There would be alcohol involved again. He needed to gain back the ground he'd lost when he spewed at her feet.

A second chance at a first impression.

But Jeff seemed to be right, as he often was. Ada was softer with him after the last cut because he had done a good job. He'd work that angle to bond.

He resigned himself to having another kick ass day on Monday for him and Ada, and having a great time tonight for himself, free of expectations. He was feeling buoyant, Kunichi had noticed right away, pounced and got him on stage. First on the drums, which he played like a 7th grader after a few lessons, and then on the microphone.

God, it was fun. So fun. And he felt the perfect amount of tipsy, like tomorrow he'd need two paracetemol and extra water, a good sweat and nothing else.

He felt extra intoxicated when he spotted Ada. In tight jeans and a slimmer t-shirt than normal, and high heels. He tried not to stare at her ass on a sneaker day, he was doomed with the thrust the 3 inches gave her curves. She looked amazing, but she looked like she was leaving. And he'd just realized she was there!

The social lubricant in his blood didn't give him a chance to think better of it. He was walking to Ada. He got there just in time. Her heel stuck in a crease in the floor, and he caught her. It was every rom com moment he'd ever sat on his mum's couch moon eyed over in one.

He got to help her. And he was able to talk to her like a normal human, and get her a drink. All in the span of 20 minutes!

She seemed relaxed, her shoulders pressed against her tee nicely, but were down, easy. And she smiled at him, a lot.

He was trying his best not to think, he'd spin out. When he went to get her ice towel and then the martini, god, she kind of flirted, right? People flirted with him all the time, or went mute. She didn't do either until tonight. And he was buzzing, more off the flirting at this point than the alcohol.

The little insecure boy inside, the one who was really loud in new situations or around new people, especially people he admired, was chiming in about the stage. The stage cast a spell on people, and he worried about people who knew him from it or expressed attraction to that aspect of him.

It's why he'd always held back with Helene, regrettably.

He didn't want to make that mistake again, he'd made wrong assumptions that cost him Helene's affections. He didn't want to do that here, wanted to do the opposite. Part of him wanted to dive in, head first, but he wasn't sure. Rejection hurt no matter who you were, and though he'd had his share, Harry's skin was still cling wrap thin. He wanted her to like him too. He wanted this to be real. Which meant he had to be honest, and open. But he was rushing it, like he did when he was crushing.

He was going to let this night be what he hoped it would be, a beginning. And he was that guy, the one on stage, with the smirk, and the wit. He was also less commanding, and lost his cool at times, but she'd seen that guy. He just needed to show her more of his best side, tonight, and on set.

He caught Kunichi motioning to him. Ah, he'd almost forgotten his promise.

He leaned back, let his arm brush her shoulder while he relaxed. He'd turn on the charm for just a minute, he could manage that, he wanted something he'd been a little consumed with for the better half of this night. And he wanted it from Ada.

He flexed the dimple and titled his head to the side. "This smile?" He pointed his finger at his lips.

"That's a good one, but no. The cockier one!" Oooh, he really did love that eyebrow. Gave him tingles.

"I will do my absolute best," he smirked and her lashes fluttered. "If you'll come up and sing with me."

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #a premontion of love #apol #chapter 4 #ski da yo #talk to me

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somethingjustsouthofbrilliance · 6 years

Text

I Got You (Tony/Rhodey secret service AU)(chapter 6)

Some of you asked if there will be a chapter from Tony’s POV. Well, here it is. It’s longer than my previous ones, but there was a lot to pack into it. Hope you, guys, don’t mind. Got a few more Easter eggs in this chapter also - see if you can pick those out ;-)

Links to chapter 1, chapter 5

Tagging @jamesrhodey @supernaturalyloki @chanderefk @aimeeroot21 @markedplaces @mostly-marvel-stuffs @matre-dee @le-ephemere @lo-anlurui @savedbyholmes @kimmycup @typicalcampbell @natty-ts70 @damnhiatus @pubzie @giulisetta @starkravinghazelnuts

Chapter 6

The group at the nearby table abandon their pretense of looking through the menus the moment Rhodes walks away, and Tony has been waiting for it, waiting for them to make a move, and the moment they do, the moment the first of them rises from the table, so does he.

He slams his elbow hard into the nose of the closest goon, causing the man to stumble backwards, eyes watering and hands clamping over the now bloodied face. Delivers a vicious follow-up blow to the man’s temple, dropping him to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

One, he thinks grimly and twists around to drive the heel of his boot into the side of another’s knee.

Two, he adds, allowing himself the tiniest of smirks at the dull sound of bone breaking even as the second assailant hollers and drops, clutching the knee in obvious pain.

He puts the guy out of his misery with a well-aimed kick to the head and turns just in time to duck out of the way of a chair swinging toward him. He intercepts the object by its legs, twists it sharply to the side, forcing the other guy to let go. Then lunges forward, smashing the back of the chair into the guy’s neck with everything he’s got.

Three.

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and he spins around just in time to see one of the group slink away in the direction that Rhodes had disappeared to.

Shit.

He doesn’t bother with the mental tally anymore. He needs to finish this as quickly as possible. Goon number four reaches behind his coat for the gun tucked into his waistband, having apparently reached a similar conclusion. And Tony doesn’t have time for this – not in a crowded restaurant, not when the fifth man is probably already gunning for Rhodes.

He’s still holding the chair, so he swings it at the guy’s head hard enough to crack and splinter the wood. The man slumps wordlessly, an awkward heap at Tony’s feet, and Tony waits half a heartbeat to make sure the guy doesn’t so much as twitch before running full-speed after number five.

He bursts into the kitchen, nearly knocking over one of the workers. A cursory glance at the man’s terror-wide eyes that keep darting toward the back of the room tells him he was right not to bother checking the restroom first – he’s on the right track.

He pulls out his gun, hurries through the busy crammed space, nearly slipping on a spilled mess of pasta and broken glass left in the middle of the tiled floor.

Yes, definitely on the right track.

There’s a shout up ahead, a harsh demanding tone, and he rushes toward it, worried that he is already too late when his ears pick up a dull twang of a blow followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground. And skids to a stunned halt at the sight of the fifth goon sprawled in an awkward senseless heap by the back door and Rhodes standing over him with a cast iron skillet in his hand.

He blinks, shakes his head in amusement. “A skillet tenderized goon chop,” he remarks approvingly, squatting down next to the likely comatose would-be assassin to retrieve the man’s fallen weapon. “Nicely done, Chef Rhodey.”

“I’ve done ten years in the military,” comes a slightly clipped, slightly breathless response. “I’m not entirely helpless. And the name’s Rhodes.”

Tony dutifully ignores the correction. “Former military, huh,” he squints assessingly up at his charge. “Marines?”

Rhodes tosses the skillet, raises his hand to fix the glasses that got tilted a bit during his altercation. “Air Force,” he corrects, “fighter pilot.”

“A flyboy,” Tony hums, straightening back out, the assailant’s weapon held loosely in his hand. Dismisses with a casual shrug, “Impressive, but not a particularly useful skill in our current situation. You know how to shoot?”

“Yeah, I know how to shoot.” Rhodes sounds almost offended now, and Tony grins appreciatively.

“Here you go then, Platypus,” he holds the extra weapon out to him by the barrel, his grin growing wider when Rhodes takes it without hesitation, the weapon fitting into his hand with expert ease. He steps to the door, opens it the tiniest of cracks. “Stay close,” he says, making sure to catch the other man’s eyes. “Keep low. Cover fire only – don’t poke your head up for any reason. Understood?”

Rhodes looks like he wants to argue, brows knitted into a stubborn frown, and Tony can’t have that – can’t afford to have a goddamn politician (even one who may have seen combat) going all Dirty Harry on him. He grips the man’s shoulder, squeezes hard. “Look,” he says, drawing on what little patience he has and trying for placating, “your military training aside, you are an extremely high value target, and those guys out there – their goal is to take you out. My job is to keep you alive. Let me do it. Please.”

Rhodes regards him silently for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

And they’re off.

***

Just as he had predicted, there are more goons waiting outside. The good news is there are only four of them, milling about next to two black vans with tinted windows. The bad news – they spot them all too soon for Tony’s liking – about halfway to the relative safety of the car, and these guys, being outside, are not shy about using their weapons.

He throws out his hand behind him, blindly grabs a fistful of the pale blue fabric and yanks down, forcing Rhodes to duck behind the closest vehicle. He follows suit, wincing in mute apology to the car’s hapless owner, whoever they may be, as bullets pepper its other side. A momentary lull in gunfire has him up on his feet again, firing over the hood of the car and hissing at Rhodes to move while their assailants in turn duck behind one of the vans for cover. Rhodes obeys without hesitation this time, taking off at a low crouch, and Tony fires off a couple more shots, blowing out the vans’ tires, and runs off after him, making sure to keep himself between Rhodes and the shooters.

He unlocks the car on the run, yells at Rhodes to “Get in and get down”. Gets in himself, flinching as the driver’s side window shatters from the impact of a bullet, showering him with glass. He doesn’t wait for them to get in another shot. Slams the key into ignition, floors the pedal and peels out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

***

“How did they manage to track us down?” Rhodes straightens out slowly in the passenger seat, looks back over his shoulder at the restaurant parking lot they had long since left behind.

Tony shrugs, wincing as the movement pulls unpleasantly at his left shoulder. Spares Rhodes a sideways glance. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself,” he admits, barely able to hide his frustration. Because he missed something, he knows he did. He got rid of their phones, they’ve got a brand new credit card, a new car, made sure their movements couldn’t be traced. Hell, he even got Rhodes to get rid of his old clothes, so he would–

Shit.

He glances Rhodes’ way again, eyes narrowed in thought. “You wouldn’t happen to have something on your person that was a gift, would ya? Fairly recent? This year sometime?”

Rhodes frowns at the question, seemingly confused as to its relevance, but he obliges nevertheless, lifts up his left hand to show off an exquisite-looking Bulgari encircling his wrist. “Got this little beast about two months ago,” he says, and his eyes widen in sudden horrified realization as he stumbles breathlessly over the name of the giver, “from Obie…”

Shit, shit, shit

“Take it off,” Tony commands, squeezing the steering wheel harder as he berates himself for being stupid, stupid, stupid not to have thought of this sooner.

A sudden wave of sharp, stabbing pain that tears through his shoulder at the angry motion nearly makes him gasp out loud. He grits his teeth, loosens his grip on the steering wheel a bit, taking a couple of long steadying breaths through the nose. Spares a quick glance at the front of his shirt, unsurprised to see a steadily growing patch of wetness that spreads out from a small hole just below his collarbone. Of-fucking-course.

“Smash it,” he forces out hoarsely, because they need to take care of this first, this is important, his goddamn shoulder can wait. “On the dash… use your gun.”

Rhodes does as he’s told, drives the butt of the gun into the delicate clockwork until the beautiful timepiece is nothing but a mess of twisted metal and broken glass.

“Toss it,” Tony instructs, and what’s left of the watch is sent flying out the open window.

It’s not ideal. Stane or whoever else that’s pulling the strings already has part of their itinerary, they can figure out the rest soon enough even without the tracker. But it should at least buy them some time. Which, judging by the way his shoulder is now a constant painful throb in odd concert with the beat of his heart, they desperately, desperately need.

He thinks back to his original plan. His old house in Malibu. Another 20+ hours away. There’s no way he can get them there now. Not in this shape. They need a stopover, a safe place to rest and get patched up before he gets them back on their way. Luckily for them, they are about an hour away from one – a small safety harbor he himself helped create many years ago for those he swore he would give his life to protect. And he hates the idea of being the one to now bring danger to their doorstep. Would never even think about doing so if he were on his own. But he’s got Rhodes to think about – the man who is now also his to protect. He cannot, will not fail him now.

He flicks another troubled gaze at his bloodied shirt, looks up at the road sign for the rapidly approaching junction with US-54 and turns the car toward the exit ramp, sending a quick mental apology to those, whose lives he’s about to make a whole lot more complicated.

***

“I knew Stane as a kid. Did he ever tell you?” He doesn’t know why he’s volunteering this information now. Blames it on the blood loss. On the fact that the road flickers in and out of focus for him with ever-increasing frequency and they still have about 10 minutes left to go and he desperately, desperately needs to find a way to stay alert. Talking helps. Talking about anything really. He’s just not so sure that starting a conversation about his messed-up childhood with a guy he met only a couple weeks ago, a guy who probably only tolerates his presence out of necessity, is a good way to go. But his mouth no longer seems to listen to his brain’s admonitions, and he doesn’t think he has the wherewithal to fight that particular battle now.

“I… no…” Rhodes sounds equal parts confused and surprised. “I didn’t.”

“Used to come see my… Howard about his projects.”

A wave of dizziness assaults him out of nowhere and he grips the wheel harder to stay in his lane. The wound in his shoulder echoes dutifully, the surge of pain momentarily whitening out the road before him. But it helps, jolts him into greater awareness, buys him a few minutes more. Hopefully enough to reach the house. He blinks rapidly to clear his vision, his chest heaving with breaths that seem too shallow, too inadequate somehow.

“I used to … like it when he came. …Kept Howard’s attention away,” he admits, the words pouring out of him like liquor out of a bottle. And, god, he needs a drink – he would kill for one just about now. Drinking helps. Howard taught him that. He didn’t want to learn. He was too young, he thinks. But Howard said he needed to, so he obeyed. He wanted to be good, wanted his father to like him… or at least… at least not hit him so much. He left him alone when Obie was there, so that was nice… that was nice.

“Wh…what?”

He clamps his mouth shut at his passenger’s appalled gasp, flicks a pathetically hopeful glance to the side, wincing at the expression of stunned horror on the other man’s face. Shit. He didn’t mean to say any of that out loud, he really didn’t. Damn this blood loss.

“Stark, I–”

“S’fine,” he interrupts, turning his attention back to the road, hunching in on himself under the watchful, concerned stare he can feel burning a hole in the side of his face. “Whiskey under the bridge.” A hysterical giggle bubbles forth, and, boy, is he not helping himself here. He doesn’t even dare look Rhodes’ way anymore. Can’t bear the judgment, the pity he knows he’s gonna see in the man’s eyes.

The road winks out for a moment. Comes back veiled in a rapidly thickening gray haze. His left arm slips off the wheel, hanging a dead weight at his side. The fingers of his right one are growing colder by the minute and he can barely feel the leather in their white-knuckled grip. His time has run out.

“See that driveway up ahead?” He nods toward a simple gravel road framed by trees and thick overgrowth on both sides. “There’s a house… at the end of it. Friend of mine… Pep…Pepper.” He’s slurring, he can feel it, his tongue growing too heavy in his mouth. But he still needs to, he needs to…

“Stark?”

He can hear the worry in Rhodes’ voice, can feel the man’s hand gripping his shoulder – a strong solid anchor in an ocean of cold and darkness that’s slowly pulling him under. It’s nice that anchor, but it won’t be enough to keep him from floating away.

“Take the… take the wheel,” he manages on a soft, breezy exhale, as darkness rises higher to engulf him completely.

Rhodes’ anxious call of his name is the last thing he hears.

#ironhusbands au #secret service au #tony/rhodey #special agent tony stark #president james rhodes #hurt/comfort #angst #intrigue #pepper potts #yes i'm introducing her now #and there are more characters to be introduced later #somethingjustsouthofbrilliance writes

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heaven-delight · 6 years

Text

[ETC] 170716 FANBOARD EVENT - Yeri

Hi~ Nice to meet you~ Luvies1~ Uncle2 Rim3 has appeared

I’m gonna start now~ Come on!

Yerim~ Here are sincere book recommendations for you~ Uh~

When you recommended “Was? Wäre? Wenn?” on Instagram, I finished reading the whole book the next day! I think it’s been two years since I’ve read a book... Consider these recommendations from me as a thank you gift~ I don’t know if you’ve read mystery novels, but if you finish reading “The Devotion of Suspect X,” you’ll feel like it’s a great name for this novel! It’s a really fun book. “Ties of Shooting Stars” this is made up of two books, and although it’s kinda loose, it has a plot twist!! Recommend lots of books for us~ I’ll read a lot of books and recommend books to you~~

→ Yeri: Oh that’s super great hehehe I’ll read them! You’re the best, luvie!

Kim Yerim where are you kekekekeke

Hurry up hehe

→ Yeri: I’m over here

Yerim, your dark circles...

You have dark circles under your eyes...

I could see them in the V-Apps, the music shows and even on the “Knowing Bros” episode yesterday..

I know it must be tough for you, preparing for your comeback and going through all those schedules TT

Since it’s the summer, remember to get good food, good sleep and good rest!

Yeri! Red Velvet! Good luck to everyone!!

→ Yeri: I’ll cover the dark circles...

Ms. Yerim! Ms. Yerim! Ms. Yerim! If you had a week for yourself right now, what is the first thing you want to do?

→ Yeri: I’m gonna travel

Ms. Yerim~~~ What do you order at a bingsu4 place? Coffee bingsu vs Fruit bingsu vs Cheese bingsu vs Green tea bingsu?? What do you eat?? ^^

→ Yeri: I like milk bingsu without red bean paste

Yerim, do you have anything you want to eat these days??

What is it?? Tteokbokki??5

→ Yeri: Right now.... I want to eat sweet potato pizza.. With lots of cheese....?

Do you have any movies that you had fun watching recently?

I’m outside right now, and I’m thinking about watching a movie!!

→ Yeri: The most recent movie I watched was “Anarchist from Colony!”

Yerim, I had fun watching “Knowing Bros”

It was fun TT

→ Yeri: Did you have fun...? kekekekeke I haven’t watched it yet... I’m worried kekekeke

Ms. Yerim when you’re feeling down, how do you cheer yourself up?

→ Yeri: Hmmm... I buy an excessive amount of books and read a lot of them. Cheer up!

Yerim could you recommend some of the songs you’re listening to these days

What could there,,be?

→ Yeri: I’m listening to the OSTs of “Fight My Way” a lot these days, but out of those, I’m listening to Kassy’s “Good Morning” a lot. Eventhough the drama is over, I’m still hooked on to the songs

Yerim! Compliments for the pigtails you wore during the “Knowing Bros” skits!!

It’s cute.. TT

→ Yeri: Pigtails? kekkeke Thank youu

Yerim!! What’s your favorite song out of “The Red Summer??”

I like “Mojito!!”

→ Yeri: For me, it’s “Zoo!”

I read the books that you read, Yerm6, “Malice” and “The Good Son!!”

Personally, I thought Keigo Higashino’s “Malice” was super fun...

→ Yeri: hehehe I really like Keigo Higashino’s books too. They’re good.

I shall ask this politely...

I am curious about what Yerm’s favorite colors are

→ Yeri: Black, white, pink. I shall answer politely too kekeke

Did you have lunch? What did you eat?!

Did you have lots of yummy food TTTTTT *sniffles*

→ Yeri: I ate two ice creams so far kekeke Instead of eating food I’m just eating snacks

Yeri why do you want to travel to the UK so much?

I saw you say it on “Knowing Bros,” so I’m curious

→ Yeri: Because I’m a huge fan of Harry Potter!

Did you succeed in getting tickets for the Ariana Grande concert??

→ Yeri: Didn’t the ticketing period end.. TT

Yerim, what do you order when you go to a cafe?

→ Yeri: I... right now, I usually order vanilla smoothies, but I drink americanos too and like milk tea too

Yerim!! What book are you reading these days??

Recommend books for me ♥ ♥

→ Yeri: I’m reading “The Moment!” I’ve never spent so much time reading a book before/

Ms. Yerim~~~ Did you have any nicknames when you were young? What’s your favorite nickname??

→ Yeri: I think I’d been called as “Yerm” the most hehehe

Yerim did you buy lots of snacks??

You said that you were going to bring Japanese snacks home..

→ Yeri: Er.. What was the name of it.. I absolutely love eating the Alfort chocolates, shiori koibito and coconut ice cream TTT My favorite snacks

Young and rich and pretty Yerm~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yerm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! is my luv

→ Yeri: What’s this kekekekek You’re young and rich, pretty too!

The oldest members did a cover stage of Greedy, right? What song do you want to do a cover stage of, Yerim?

Every song? Or Greedy Younger Member ver.? kekeke Personally, I want to hear you sing “The Way” ~.~

→ Yeri: Oh recommend more songs to me! Give me idea

Did you read "Miracles of the Namiya General Store?

That's really fun too TT

→ Yeri: Of course!

Because you have such a nice vocal color, I think it'll be nice for you to sing songs like ballads too!

It was so nice to hear you sing short clips of those on radio shows or on Yoo Hee-Yeol's Sketchbook TT It'll be great if you would sing those during the concert too!

→ Yeri: ♥

Do you know the song "Tattooed Heart?" I want to hear you sing it in your voice

I love that song so much TT TT TT TT

→ Yeri: I like that song too hehe If you see the performance clips of that song, you'll fall in love with it even more!

Tell us one line of your song "Luvie!!"

Please leak just one line of the song TT TT TT TT

→ Yeri: I know that in the end, I’m me Thank you for being bold and brave You know too, right that there’s a lot I ran away because I was scared; I kept myself busy while hiding this It’s OK to be like that.

Yeri, one of your related search words are ‘nationality.’

As expected from UK Rim...

→ Yeri: OMG Really...? kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Yeri, are you really doing Happily Ever After in Red Room?

I’m curious!7

→ Yeri: I’m curious!

Yeri, why do you read so many books?

Do you read books because of a specific reason? I like seeing you read during your busy schedules, but also, I’m curious

→ Yeri: Hmm... It takes me to another world of my own

Rim, what are you going to name your song if you make one??

I’ll be looking forward to it!

→ Yeri: I already wrote lyrics about how I feel at the end of my teen yeras kkk For now it’s named “The Edge” kkkk

Rim, do you have any books that you want to recommend to luvies?

I’m curious!

→ Yeri: Out of the books I read, “The Pursuit of Happiness!”

What if you finish reading “The Moment???”

What are you going to read!!!???

→ Yeri: Maybe out of the books in my room, “Jacob’s Room?”

I’ll recommend songs to the recommendation fairy Yerim!! I think you might like these(?)

O3ohn - Down Bye Bye Badman - Your Wave I’ll recommend two songs!!! Give them a listen if you have time ~.~ They lyrics are so good ㅠㅅㅠ

→ Yeri: How do you know those songs! I listened to them a lot for a while

Yeri, I heard that last time, you put extensions on.. Are they uncomfortable??

..?

→ Yeri: They are

Yerm did you eat good stuff at Osaka?

What did ya eat?!?!

→ Yeri: Oyakodon, Mon chou chou, beef curry

Do you like Baek Yeri’s “As If You Don’t Know Me?.?”

I think your voice will go well along with that one. Sing it next time for us...!

→ Yeri: Of course! I’m Yerin’s fangirl!

Yeri, are you feeling alright? You said that you had an IV in the last V-App ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Rest well at Japan and eat a lot ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠStay healthy I always feel loved by you I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

→ Yeri: I’m alright now hehehe The garlic IV is the best! Don’t worry about me and take care of yourself

Thanks to you I’m listening to a lot of Sesame and Cotton Candy!

I like “song B” and “Is It Over Here” the most hehehe I’ll recommend a band that I’m listening a lot to these days, Life and Time~

→ Yeri: Oh Thanks for the recommendation kekeke I’ll give them a listen

They say that a cute kid is here

Is it true hehe

→ Yeri: hehehe I’m here

I hope you can grow bigger musically Yerim!

With each new album, your voice is getting better and more emotional!! You did as well as everybody expected in the “Red Summer” album!!! I love your emotions!! As a fan I’ll listen and watch a lot and root for you!!

→ Yeri: I’ll always root for you too, you awesome people

Yerim, do you like Cheeze’s songs too? There are lots of good songs like “Madeleine Love,” and “How Do You Think!!”

→ Yeri: Of course

Hi~ Nice to meet you~ Luvies~ Uncle Rim has appeared

I’m gonna go bye

This is fun

I’m back kkkk

Yeri, which character in Harry Potter do you like the most?

My favorite is Hermione Granger!! How about you?~~

→ Yeri: Since I’m blonde these days Malfoy

S...Sorry... I have to go..kkkk

I’ll be back later kkkk

1 This is the name for Red Velvet’s official fanclub. 2 In Korean, this refers to 아재. It’s a shortened form of the word 아저�� (ajusshi), which is used to call middle-aged men in Korean. Recently, it’s meaning has changed to refer to someone who has ‘old’ taste, someone who makes old, corny jokes, and someone who’s late to the newest trends. 3 Kim Yerim (Yeri’s real name) → Rim 4 It’s a Korean dessert made up of various toppings on shaved ice with red bean paste. 5 This is a popular and famous Korean dish that is made up of rice cakes stir-fried in pepper paste, along with other ingredients such as boiled eggs and fish cakes 6 Kim Yerim (Yeri’s real name) → Yerm 7 This is a line from Happily Ever After

#red velvet #rv #red velvet translation #rv translation #rv trans #red velvet trans #t:etc #e:theredsummer #m:yeri

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diinofayce · 6 years

Text

Like A Whisper In The Night - 3

Authors Note: So an early post! I’ve been working on this one a lot, trying to get a decent idea of Layne’s abilities and a hint at who she is outside of The Avengers. I’m so used to seeing these OFCs where they’re healing a broken Bucky and I kind of want to turn it on it’s head a little, have them take care of each other. So bear with me as I work through how I really want to go about that.

Music Note: I’ve been excitedly awaiting DOROTHY’s new album and listened through their entire discography the other day and realized how much their album speaks to the feeling I wanted this book to have. The band will be woven into the rest of this story. All music belongs to them and I would really suggest looking into them, they’re fantastic.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC | Word Count: 7,447 | Warnings: Swearing, Manipulation, Alcohol | Song: Gun In My Hand - DOROTHY

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

~*~

The next day Layne had decided to have a mental health day. She slept poorly, nightmares of Greg Andrews’ memories haunting her. They were mixed in with the girl from Hong Kong and a few from other people she had infiltrated before joining up with The Avengers. In true mental health day fashion, Layne forwent wearing makeup and her long brown hair was twisted up into a heap on the top of her head. She was wearing a thin, black, worn out Motorhead tank top and red flannel pajama pants. She had zero plans of having social interaction with anyone on the team today or even leaving her room. Layne was currently curled up in a mountain of pillows on her bed painting her toenails blue. She took a deep swig out of a bottle of Spotted Cow, the New Glarus sampler pack sitting on the floor next to her bed. It was one of the only home comforts she asked Tony to get for her, the specialty beer only available for sale in Wisconsin. Her stereo was blaring music loud enough to pulse her walls and softly rattle the mirrors. Tony had most of the building set up to be relatively soundproof after Bucky with his night terrors and so far none of her neighbors complained about the volume she kept her music at any time she was inhabiting her room. The guitar and bass hummed together in a deep, melodic tone as the female vocalist rasped over the top of a double bass drum.

“Why did love put a knife in my heart Why did love open up my scars Why did love put a knife in my heart In my bed, in my head, in my heart.

Was it for redemption Was it for revenge Was it for the bottle Was it for the ledge Was it for the thrill that pushes my hope to the edge Why did love, why did love put a gun in my hand?”

It took Layne a few minutes to realize that someone was even knocking at her door under the pounding of her music. She carefully hopped off the bed and opened her door, trying not to smudge her wet polish. Layne was startled again by Bucky being on the other side of her door. She gave a crooked half smile and leaned against her door frame, her arms crossed over her chest. “Well, well, Mr. Barnes. What can I do for you?” Layne tried to play cool, despite the fact that her heart was going a million miles a minute at the sight of him in a tight baby blue V neck shirt that made his eyes seem so much brighter and acid wash jeans.

Bucky looked her up and down really quick, trying to ignore the fact that Layne didn’t appear to be wearing a bra while grimacing slightly at the music that blared into the hallway with her open door. “What is that noise?” Bucky asked, his brows knitting together and looking past Layne. Layne’s smile faltered slightly and she didn’t stop him as Bucky slipped passed her into her room.

“It’s blues rock. Is it too loud?” Layne asked closing the door behind him and then turning down the radio to a more palatable level before she sat back down on the bed and continued painting her toenails.

“Blues-rock, huh? When did that become a thing?” Bucky asked leaning against her couch. Layne reached down and grabbed a Staghorn out of the sampler pack and handing it to Bucky. Bucky took it with a grateful smile and cracked the top off with his metal palm.

“Um, 1960’s? You know, Lonnie Mack and Eric Clapton? No, wait, I guess you wouldn’t. It’s good. I think you’d probably like Eric Clapton more than this stuff; he’s a little more mellow.” Layne pointed her stereo remote and hit a button, Sunshine of Your Love playing softly in the background. “So, this band is technically Cream, but it’s what made Eric Clapton really famous before he went solo. Incredibly talented instrumentalist and his vocals were so necessary for the era.”

Bucky listened and as he intently watched her paint her nails. He couldn’t help but smile slightly at the passion in which she spoke about music. “It’s…groovy?” Bucky asked sounding a little unsure. Layne laughed, a soft bell-like sound that caused tiny wrinkles around her caramel eyes.

“Groovy good or groovy bad?” Layne asked through her chuckle.

“Good. I like it,” Bucky reassured. “More than what you first had playing.”

Layne’s laughter died a little and she nodded, twisting the cap onto her polish and setting it on her nightstand. “Well, when you’re listening outside of your preferred genre you have to separate it out. Start with the words, add the voice, then put in the instruments. But it’s probably a good thing these guys never got picked up, the vocalist just couldn’t hack it,” Layne responded, her tone clipped. She caught Bucky’s confusion and waved her hand before he had a chance to respond. “Never mind Bucky. You never answered on why I’m graced with your presence this morning.”

Bucky hesitated, trying to figure out if he had offended her in some way before getting down to the matter at hand. “Stark called a mandatory meeting and you didn’t show up, so they sent me to come find you.”

Layne’s caramel eyes widened and she dashed over to her desk to check her phone. “Oh, shoot. It died and I didn’t realize,” she tossed her phone back down on the desk and looked at him oddly. “Did they send you because you just found out where my room is?”

Bucky groaned and ran both of his hands through his hair, the orange of the lamps in Layne’s room reflecting softly off of his metal arm. “Vision ratted me out, huh?” Bucky had gone down his list for eliminating rooms yesterday to figure out which one was Layne’s when he was left with two doors that he didn’t know. He chanced the one on the right only to have Vision faze out of the wall next to him. Bucky didn’t even know Vision had his own room. Vision had kindly directed Bucky to the only other door that he couldn’t figure out, the door that happened to be right across the hall from Bucky’s. Feeling like an idiot, he had thanked Vision, not thinking that the android would later go and tattle on him.

Layne laughed again, opening a few drawers in her dresser and pulling random articles of clothing out. “Yes. I was wondering how you managed to find me. You had never been neighborly before, but I figured you found me because of the racket. I’m just going to get changed really quick; you don’t have to wait if you don’t want.” Layne said, disappearing into the bathroom. She took in her reflection in the mirror and grimaced, not expecting to have to leave her room or have anyone in her room she really didn’t put any effort into looking presentable. Layne tried not to think too hard about the fact that she was hanging out with Bucky without a bra on as she got dressed. Putting a little bit of foundation powder on her face and a light coat of mascara she deemed herself relatively okay for a team assembly. She thought a moment on her choice of apparel, knowing it’s not everyone’s version of comfy, but most of Layne’s clothes were concert ready since that was her scene back home. Whenever Layne wasn’t working on papers or in labs for school she was either on or behind a stage. She wondered if Bucky would judge her on the holes and the bare midriff, and then stopped to wonder why she cared so much. Bucky hadn’t put any interest in her until now and she certainly wasn’t looking to turn heads at work.

Bucky waited for the bathroom door latch to click before striding over to her stereo and popping the player open. A burned disc with ‘DOROTHY’ written across the top in purple Sharpie sat in the tray. “FRIDAY? Can you get me a copy of this?” Bucky asked, looking at the ceiling. Recognizing the name he looked up at the walls and saw the poster with the name DOROTHY scrawled across the front of a woman’s bright red lips, tongue out, and two switchblades crossed on other side poised to cut the appendage off.

“Can do, Sgt. Barnes,” came the response, a little too loud for his liking. He looked up as the bathroom door clicked open and quickly shut the tray, moving back to his spot on the couch.

Bucky’s heart sputtered momentarily as he took in Layne’s torn skinny jeans that settled on her hips and her flat midriff showing below a maroon shirt with Motley Crue stamped on the front. She was throwing a navy blue flannel around her shoulders, buttoning it up to just below her breasts and covering the exposed flesh of her abdomen. She looked up from her buttons, noticing Bucky was waiting for her and let out a dazzling smile that made Bucky’s heart sputter again. He cleared his throat and walked over to meet her at her front door, confused about the emotions he was feeling.

“What’s Motley Crue?” Bucky asked, reaching out carefully and moving the lapel of the flannel aside. Layne tsked and shook her head, looking at him with disapproval, not being able to hide the soft pink flush behind her hair. Bucky wanted to run his fingers across her cheeks and feel the heat that sat there.

“If you’re going to keep showing up at my door, Barnes, we’re going to have to do some music education,” Layne responded, heading off ahead of him towards the common room. Bucky shut her door behind them and took a moment to admire how tight those jeans were for a moment before catching up.

“And why all the holes?” he asked motioning to her pants.

Layne laughed, light dancing in her eyes. “Everyone likes a good draft, Barnes.”

~*~

“Alright, everyone,” Tony started, clapping his hands together when Layne and Bucky finally arrived. “The star of today’s meeting is officially here.” He strode over and took Layne by the elbow she let out a small squeak of surprise as she was drug in front of everyone. Her caramel eyes widened and a flush took over her cheeks as she looked up at Tony and then out at the rest of the team that was either lounging on or around the big leather couch in the middle of the room. The only one that wasn’t being apart of the meeting was Loki, who was sitting off to the side in a window seat with a hefty leather-bound tome.

“What? The star?” Layne asked, her mouth going dry. Was she being made an example of? “Did I do something wrong?” she asked hoarsely.

“What? No! Just after the last couple of missions and watching the tape from your incredible interrogation yesterday I think all of us are a little curious to see what you can do in a calm and safe environment,” Tony explained enthusiastically, clapping his hand sharply in the middle of her back. She sputtered and her flush brightened and she looked around the room for any sign of help to get her out of this.

Steve was leaning on the back of the couch and he straightened and walked over to her. “It’s so that we can all get a better idea of how to place you on missions and how to move forward training you. We know your hand to hand combat is mediocre and your gun skills are sort of lacking so maybe it’s better to keep you back as support, like Wanda. Which is okay, we just need to understand it better and the field is too chaotic to watch it happen and get a grasp on it,” he explained softly setting his large hands on her shoulders.

Layne’s eyesight came up to only Steve’s collar bone; she was close enough to take in the sharp, pine sight of his cologne and fresh tang of his shaving cream. He was dressed in a white button-up shirt and jeans and she couldn’t help but smile as she noticed he missed a button. Layne buttoned it for him quick, startling him slightly before stepping back and nodding.

“Yeah, alright. So what do you guys want to know?” she asked fiddling nervously with her fingers. She dug deep inside herself to find that rock star she had always wanted to be, to pull that confidence out and not shrink down to a meek little girl in front of her teammates. She needed to prove she was strong and that she deserved to be here.

Natasha raised her hand from where she sat in between Sam and Wanda on the couch in a white tank top and yoga pants, she must have just come from working out. “Can you show us the thing you did with the persuasion?” she asked, resting her elbows on her knees. Layne licked her lips and stepped over the wooden coffee table that was separating them, sitting on it carefully. She held her hands out, palms up, to Natasha who hesitated for a moment before putting her palms down on Layne’s. Layne slowly wrapped her fingers around Natasha’s wrists and rubbed little circles with her thumbs, she caught Nat’s gaze locking Natasha’s green eyes with her own, her caramel eyes lighting up with flames.

“Tell me, Natasha, how old are you?” Layne asked simply.

Natasha ground her teeth together slightly and cocked her head to the side. “Thirty-three,” she responded, sounding breathless.

“I knew you weren't twenty-five!” Sam exclaimed and clapped his hands together. Natasha twitched a little in Layne’s grasp and Layne raised an eyebrow. Natasha relaxed back into Layne’s grip, seemingly placated.

“Do you talk about me behind my back?” Layne asked and Natasha’s expression darkened slightly.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you say,” Layne cooed softly.

The team watched in fascination as the skin that Layne touched glow with a soft orange light. Sam reached out to touch Natasha’s skin but was stopped when Layne calmly stomped on his foot. As she didn’t have shoes on it certainly didn’t hurt him at all, but it stopped his advance.

Natasha gritted her teeth and her breathing sped up a little. She made a little humming sound and Layne just tightened her grip in response. “That I don’t think you’re up to being an Avenger. That I think that training you is a waste of time and you’re just going to get someone killed,” Nat finally spit out quickly. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she took a deep breath and her expression went back into that look of calm complacency.

The others cast worried glances at each other. The Russian hadn’t exactly been quiet about her opinions on the new recruit, especially after the end of Layne’s mandatory ten hours of gun training. Natasha wasn’t convinced Layne would be good at anything other than getting in the way. However, Natasha was always relatively pleasant with Layne when in the same room or during training.

“Really? How about you tell Loki something you’d never want him to know?” Layne directed sliding her hands up Natasha’s forearms. Layne’s face was calm and passive, she was trying to sound indifferent, but the team could hear the underlying hurt in her voice. Loki looked up with interest for the first time during all of this. He had shown up only because this was supposed to be a team learning experience, he had been working with Layne for months on her skills and none of what she did was very new to him. Even though he had heard and been amused by Layne’s stories of petty vengeance that she would get on her brother’s back home, he had never gotten a chance to witness it in person and was pleased that he got to be apart of her getting a bit of revenge on the red head.

Natasha’s eyes went wide and her skin pale, she shook her head slightly and licked her lips. “No,” she rasped out hoarsely. Everyone knew that Natasha was still upset with Loki for taking over Clint’s heart back in the beginning and they all stared at Layne and Natasha with held breath. No one thought that Layne could convince Natasha into saying something sweet to the Norse God, let alone something she was keeping a secret, the Russian would sooner cut out her own tongue.

“Do it, Natasha,” Layne demanded with more force.

Natasha started making that soft humming noise again, her cheeks flaring red and she bit her bottom lip. Layne stared at her patiently, rubbing Nat’s forearms slowly. “I think his ass looks amazing in those pants he always wears,” Natasha just about screamed. Layne unceremoniously took her hands away, breaking the contact. Natasha gasped, her hands flying to her heart and her skin tinged with a green undertone. The whole room burst out into laughter and Loki smirked to himself, looking pleased, before returning to his book.

“I’ll have to change my wardrobe. I wouldn’t want my ass to distract you on a mission, Ms. Romanoff,” Loki chuckled, serenely turning a page.

“What the fuck, Hardin?” Natasha hissed, venom lacing her words. Everyone’s laughter died out into awkward chuckling. Everyone immediately prepared themselves to have to pull the red head off of Layne before she did any damage to the smaller girl.

Layne just calmly stared into Natasha’s green eyes, her own eyes having cooled and returned to their usual melted caramel color. “I’m sorry that I embarrassed you, but I needed to make demands that everyone knew you wouldn’t want to answer. Although I must say, I had ulterior motives. I definitely thought you were talking about me behind my back,” Layne stood and swung her legs back over the other side of the coffee table so she was standing across from the couch again.

“What did it feel like, Nat?” Bucky asked from his stool at the breakfast counter. He had been watching the exchange just as intently as he had back in the interrogation room yesterday. He could care less about things the ex-mercenary had said and more about how she had been reacting as she was saying it or trying not to as the case may be.

Natasha shook her head, still rubbing at her chest over her heart. “It was like I had sunk into a warm bath and it was like cotton was filling every part of my head. When she asked me a question,” Natasha paused, giving an icy glare. “I wanted to answer, to make her happy. The more I tried to hold the answer back the hotter Layne’s fingers got and it felt like hot coals were sitting in my stomach. Once I answered everything was pleasant again like I was back in the bath. And then Layne let me go and it was like she’d broken my heart. I feel like I have an empty hole in my chest.”

Layne pursed her lips and frowned softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a cure-all for that; it will go away by tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t hurt worse than my pride,” the redhead responded sinking into the couch.

“Would it help if I come do a dance for you in just the pants?” Loki called over from his spot in the window, not even looking up from his book.

Natasha just closed her eyes and looked like she was counting backward from ten. Her fingers twitched towards the blade she kept snapped on her hip.

“Alright, alright, team. That was a perfect demonstration, Layne. Maybe a little too perfect,” Steven said holding his hands up. “How are you feeling, Layne? Can you show us taking someone over?”

Layne looked at Cap and chewed her bottom lip. She should have known that they would want to see that. “I could on, like, Clint, Sam, or Tony if they’re okay with it? It’s probably the safest bet. They’re not enhanced or an Inhuman and I don’t really to put Natasha through that too.”

Natasha’s glance shot up at Layne before back down to her lap, it looked like she was giving her a small look of gratitude. Her heart being controlled like that was more taxing than Natasha thought it was going to be. Sam calmly took Natasha’s hand in his own and patted it softly, trying to ease some of whatever Natasha was still feeling.

Tony shook his head and raised a hand to silence Clint who had started to step forward to volunteer. “We were hoping you’d take on one of the big guys,” he said addressing Layne carefully. “Mostly because we were hoping they could fight back.”

Layne whirled on Tony and sent him a steely glare. “Excuse me? Do you have any idea what that felt like? It was like a chainsaw was ripping my skull in half and I didn’t even ask how Andrews was feeling, but I know you saw how an ass ton of blood vessels in his face all burst.”

“Well, yeah, but the big guys heal quick,” Tony said, still sounding chipper as he thwacked Steve on the bicep. “And we have the doc.” Banner frowned, looking uncomfortable by the whole scenario. Layne and him had spoken some when she had come down to work with Banner in the labs; she told him how much she hated taking people over and how their memories always stuck with her. He couldn’t begin to fathom what awful things Layne had seen in that pedophile's brain and he knew she still wasn’t recovered from it.

“Maybe it’s not the best idea,” Clint spoke up, stepping forward. “She mentioned seeing ‘bad stuff’ in Andrews’ head. The worst she’s going to find in mine is Budapest.”

“Budapest wasn’t that bad,” Natasha said softly from her spot on the couch. “Besides, who knows what’s in your head after your possession from the horned wonder back there. You’re fuzzy on some of it and she could dredge it all back up for you.”

“Okay, we really need to get a beer and discuss what you think Budapest was,” Clint said pointing a finger at her and giving her a sharp look, Natasha just raised her hands in the air and shrugged. “And we all have skeletons in our closet. No matter who she takes over there’s a chance she’s going to see some not okay stuff. But I think either myself or Sam is going to be her best bet.” Clint looked to Sam to help back him up and Sam just shrugged.

“We’ve been fighting less and less ‘normal’ bad guys. They’re enhanced now, Clint, or have powers. Maybe since we have the doctor in the house, it’s not the worst idea to have Layne take on Cap,” Sam countered gently. He looked up as Banner let out an oddly deep grumble. Banner tried to cover it with a cough and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Look!” Layne snapped. “I don’t want to do this to anyone. But I’m one hundred percent not doing it with one of the wonder twins.” She motioned to Steve and Bucky. She’s seen them fight physically she didn’t want to have to fight them mentally. Especially not when she didn’t know that she could be fought against, it was new territory to her and she didn’t want to hurt anyone.

“No, you look, we have the doc here for if anything goes wrong. Which it won't. Because you’re great and we believe in you,” Tony reasoned.

“Stop trying to argue that it’s okay just because Bruce is here,” Layne shot back.

Bucky stood up and walked over to the three. “Listen, if she says it’s dangerous then we should listen to her,” Bucky argued back, stepping between Layne and Tony.

“It’s not dangerous! We’re all here, in a calm and safe environment,” Tony said moving to step past Bucky, but he just squared his shoulders and stared him down. Tony frowned and put his hands up. “Fine, okay, you want to play that way. Kid, you’re not cleared for any future missions until you do this so we can see that you can be in control if it happens again. We can’t just knock you out every time you can’t handle yourself.”

Layne opened her mouth to argue and then closed it with a snap. Tony was right; she couldn’t just go out on the field and become a liability. What if she lost control of an enemy and they attacked one of the team by surprise thinking that Layne had everything covered? She let out a huff of air that flared her nostrils and caused Tony to falter as her eyes flared fire for a split second before she nodded in affirmation. Bucky sighed and turned to her, running his flesh fingers through his hair.

“Alright, doll, let’s do this,” he said bracing himself. Steve immediately stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Buck,” he said softly, scratching his head and giving him a look.

“What? She’s not going to go digging in my brain for anything. Are you?” Bucky asked Layne and she just shrugged.

“I can’t technically look for anything. Like, maybe I can? I haven’t tried. Normally I just get a burst of things when I first infiltrate someone,” she explained, chewing on the corner of her mouth.

Steve gave Bucky and even more pointed look. “What if she dredged up Winter Soldier stuff, Buck? They might have done a fine job repressing it all in Wakanda, but she could accidentally pull it all back to the surface.” Steve asked, his brows furrowed in concern. He rolled up his sleeves and turned his blue eyes to Layne. “Alright, Whisper, it’s you and me.” Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but Steve silenced him with a look. Bucky ducked his head and took a step back, throwing his arms out to the side. He understood that Steve was just concerned for him, but sometimes he got irritated with everyone walking on eggshells around him. It had been two years since he had attacked the Avengers as the Winter Soldier and while he was still plagued with nightmares, they had been less frequent and he was finally starting to feel like he was getting into a healthy space.

Tony clapped Bucky on the shoulder and motioned with his head to move back. Bucky shook Tony’s hand off of him and went to stand behind Layne. Layne looked at him with confusion and Bucky just shrugged. “You hit your face on the floor last time. Don’t need to do that again,” he said curtly holding his hands out on either side of her. Layne cocked her head to the side and smiled softly at this thoughtfulness, placing her hands in his. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat as she entwined her fingers in his and crossed his arms around her waist. He glared at Sam as he snickered a remark into Natasha’s ear, causing her to giggle.

“Super hearing, Wilson,” Bucky grumbled and Sam just smiled wider at him. Clint was giving Bucky the dad eye and Bucky quickly broke his eyes away. Loki had paused reading his book and was watching the exchange with rapt focus.

“Ready, Captain?” Layne whispered. Squeezing Bucky’s hands tightly she took a deep breath, finding her calm center to where she could focus on the beating of her heart and the pulse of blood through her veins. She locked eyes with Steve’s deep blue ones and then everything went dark.

Bucky tensed as Layne turned to dead weight in his arms, he sunk down slowly to the floor and set Layne’s back against his chest, watching his friend intently. Everyone was on pins and needles; Loki had stood and joined the rest of the team around the couch, Clint and Tony were ready to try to knock Steve out if needed, Bruce had come around and knelt down next to Bucky to take Layne’s wrist in his hands and keep track of her pulse. Sam, Natasha, and Wanda all sat forward on the couch looking nervous, Wanda took Vision’s hand in her own.

This was the part Layne always loved, being outside of herself. She felt as soft as a feather, seeing as she had no substantial body or weight. She looked down at the conglomerate of auras, noting that Dr. Banner had two warring inside of him. Layne had never seen Bruce’s aura and she honestly wasn’t surprised to see the calm blue aura battling the neon green. She could see her own body, lit up like a lighthouse in the fog and knew that the army green aura wrapping around her was Bucky and that was not her target. Layne was able to find and hone in on Steve’s aura and pictured her consciousness taking the form of one of Clint’s arrows; she shot herself at the heart of Steve’s aura.

It always hurt a little at first, like getting the wind knocked out of you. Steve’s aura was just as sturdy mentally as she assumed he was physically, it was like ramming into a brick wall. Layne shoved against it and managed to knock Steve’s consciousness out of his body. It happened so fast, the memories hitting her like a freight train.

It was 1940 and Steve was so tiny standing next to a short-haired, clean-shaven Sgt Barnes. Bucky was in full uniform and trying to get Steve to come along with him and two pretty young ladies at a carnival. Steve just dropped his head and waved Bucky on, leaving his friend with a tight embrace before turning away.

The next memory was patched together, flicks of a beautiful woman with brown hair always kept in neat pins and curls changed to a flicker of the woman, much older, laying in a hospital bed. She reached out an aged hand to Steve and he took it, her hand so tiny and frail in his super soldier hand.

The next memory was pain. Layne felt it deep in her core, the pain of losing this woman - who she learned was Peggy. The pain of fighting Bucky on an aircraft and trying to get him to remember who Steve was. The pain of fighting at an airport against his friends to do what he believed was right, the pain of feeling like he will never do enough to serve humankind. The pain behind the fear that he will eventually fail.

The memories passed and Layne gasped, looking out to the rest of the team with vision that was just too sharp and trying to calm the sounds that were just a little too loud. “Oh, fuck. This enhanced thing kind of sucks,” Layne groaned.

Everyone in the room had watched with trepidation as Steve suddenly went rigid before a look of pain crossed his facial features. It was the moment the swear word left his mouth, in his voice, that everyone knew that Layne had successfully entered Steve’s body. Tony walked around to face Steve, sending a quick look to Bucky who looked like he was debating between continuing to hold Layne’s body up or also approach the body of his friend.

“What are you feeling, Layne?” Bruce asked standing slowly and walking over to take Steve’s wrist in his hand to count his pulse.

Layne pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand and took a few deep breaths. “I have some vertigo going on from memories of seeing things from a shorter perspective to suddenly being fucking tall. Everything is very loud and very bright. I can sense Steve is trying to figure out how to reenter his body when I’m occupying it, which is odd because I’ve never noticed it with anyone else.”

Bruce nodded and looked away from his watch. “Both heart rates are normal. I’ll see what I can keep track of if Cap can try to take control back.”

Tony clapped his hands together and smiled. “See, this is all working out fine. I told you.”

Loki’s brows knitted together at the same time Bucky started standing up slowly. “I’d look closer, TinMan,” Loki said coldly as Steve went rigid again.

Layne felt it immediately; it was like stone hands clamped down around her chest it felt like she was being crushed. Steve had found his way back into his body and was struggling to regain his control. Layne flexed her fingers, the muscles and veins popping out along Steve’s fore and biceps with the strain the two were causing. Layne fell to her knees, cracking the hardwood floor as she pummeled Steve’s fists into the ground to catch herself from going face first. Both Bucky and Bruce rushed forward, pushing Steve up to his knees.

“Layne? Steve? I’m going to grab your arm,” Bruce said trying to sound calm, green tinging the outer ring of his irises. “Heart rate is through the roof. One of them needs to let go.”

Bucky placed both hands on Steve’s shoulders, keeping him upright and locked his silver eyes with his best friend’s. Foam started frothing at the corner of Steve’s mouth and a drop of blood ran from his nose. Bucky pulled his metal arm back and was ready to try to knock Steve out until suddenly Steve let out a sizable gasping breath, as if he had been drowning, and grabbed onto Bucky and Bruce for support. Across the room, back in her own body, Layne stirred. Clint and Loki both rushed to her side to help her sit up.

“Heart rate is slowing back down to normal,” Bruce confirmed clapping Steve on the shoulder before going over and confirming the same with Layne.

“Well, that was one hell of a show,” Tony said, looking from the six on the floor to the four on the couch. “I think we learned a lot. What did we learn, Cap?”

Layne shook off the three men trying to ascertain if she was alright to crawl over to where Steve was quickly. Bucky tensed like he wasn’t going to let her near Steve and Layne hesitated. Bucky relaxed suddenly, realizing what he had done, and scooted to the side. Layne looked at Bucky with concern before looking at Steve.

“Hey, Captain, I’m so sorry. You guys said you wanted me to fight you; I didn’t want to you. Does it hurt? Can I get you anything?” Layne pulled off her over shirt and wiped the blood off of Steve’s face. He still looked groggy and like he wasn’t sure where he was exactly. Steve finally looked up at Layne, his blue eyes meeting her frantic and worried look.

“I’m okay, Hardin. It’s fine,” Steve brought his hand up to push her hand away gently and then swipe at his mouth. “That was, just intense. It felt like a boulder hit me in the chest and then I was blind except for a light, but I had a hard time getting to the light.”

“That was your body,” Layne explained softly, clutching her balled up shirt to her chest. Tears were pricking behind her eyes. “It’s always a light, calling you home.”

Steve nodded in understanding and took a deep breath, nausea rolling the pit of his stomach. “When I finally got to the light, I could feel you already there and I knew you didn’t belong. I remember now that the plan was to fight you, but at the time I didn’t even think of that. I just needed to get you out, but I wasn’t a thing with hands or legs or anything. I don’t understand how it happened.”

“It was just your mind, Steve. You attacked me with your mind because I had your hands and your legs and you wanted them back. That’s how it works when I infiltrate in the first place.”

Steve nodded and stood slowly, relying on Bucky for support. He looked down at Layne who was near tears and felt incredibly guilty for forcing her to go through this. “I want you training with someone. I could feel what you’re capable of and while I’m sure you were holding back because it was me, I want to know what you can do if you’re pushed.”

Loki approached Layne and helped the girl to her feet. “I’ve already been working with her; we’ll continue with a swifter time line.” The Asgardian said coolly, looking at the team as if he was daring them to object.

“I’ll help,” Bucky said, raising his hands before anyone could start arguing. “Listen. I’m a lot more equipped to handle mind control powers being aimed at me than anyone else in this room, besides Wanda or Vision. And she needs to go against someone who is enhanced.”

Steve and Tony squared up, shoulder to shoulder, to give Bucky almost identical stern looks. “And if one of those memories she pulls up are the Winter Soldier activation words? Do you come back into your body as Bucky or as the Winter Soldier?” Tony asked with a small bit of venom. It took Bucky back a step; he thought that Stark and him were moving passed everything that had happened as the Winter Soldier and was shocked to hear the small amount of accusation in his voice.

“I saw every memory she did, Buck. If she sees something you don’t want to see, you’ll see it anyway. I tried to lock down certain memories and she saw them anyway,” Steve explained, sounding desperate and a little embarrassed. He wasn’t sure why his best friend was so adamant about putting himself in the way of Layne’s powers, of being the guinea pig.

Bucky growled, sick and tired of being treated like some wounded puppy. “I can handle that. I need to feel helpful here, guys. We could put her in one hundred hours of gun training with Natasha, but it won't matter if she’s still afraid of them. I could run her through the most vigorous hand to hand combat possible and it won't matter if she comes up against someone who’s bigger, stronger, faster. We recruited Layne, gave her a codename because we saw potential for her abilities out on the field. That’s what she has; we don’t give Wanda a gun or hand wraps, why would we do that to Layne? Steve, you’re too busy being Captain America you can’t be here to take the hits again and again. The world still shrinks away when they see me on the field, let me help where I can. We all have dark memories we don’t to think about again, but I’m not afraid of admitting mine.”

The whole room was silent and staring at Bucky. They all knew he was right; they knew this was the best option. It was Tony who finally clapped his hands together and nodded. “Well since that’s settled and we all agree it will probably end up only a little terribly, I’m going to call this the end of the meeting. If anyone needs me I’m going to be reinforcing a suit for when this all goes south!”

Natasha was the first one to leave the common room, sending one last glance of embarrassment and pain to Layne, Clint following after her. Tony took his leave and Wanda and Vision went back to doing a crossword puzzle they had been working on before the meeting started. Bruce made a comment about being in his lab before also taking his leave. Sam stood up and clapped Steve on the shoulder.

“Let’s go get you a beer or twelve,” Sam said leading the still-wobbly captain away from the group and over to the breakfast bar.

Loki turned to Bucky and Layne. “We start training tomorrow at dawn and see how long we can go and decide how often we will meet depending on how it goes,” he said and vanished in a puff of green smoke. Layne rolled her eyes, always thinking his little parlor tricks were ridiculous.

Bucky turned to Layne and shifted awkwardly for a moment. “Did you need a beer?” he asked softly, still feeling bad that he had treated her like an enemy earlier.

Layne smiled softly, her heartwarming with the offer. “No. I think I’m going to go work on some music in my room. Thanks though, Bucky. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning.” She touched the flesh of his forearm softly as she walked passed him and back down to the living quarters. Bucky sighed, his heart hammering from her touch and went over to sit on the stool next to his best friend, taking the beer Sam slid to him. Not that alcohol did anything to Bucky, but even the taste and feel of drinking a beer was calming to him.

“Boy, you got it bad,” Sam whistled, cracking his beer on the lip of the counter. He looked Bucky over with laughter in his eyes as Steve turned to look at him with confusion.

“What? No. I think she’s a good kid and has the potential to be a strong addition to the team. I just want to help,” Bucky insisted, slamming half his beer down in one gulp. He didn’t want to sort through whatever his emotions were with Wilson; Bucky still wasn’t a fan of how he tried to therapist him all the time.

“Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say.” Sam laughed and just pulled the case of beer out of the fridge, setting it on the bar.

Steve took a drink of his beer and looked out the window behind Sam stoically. “If you’re into her, Buck, you should just say something to her,” Steve said. Steve was used to seeing the old Bucky pick up and put down women with ease back in the day, but once they got him back he hadn’t had much to do romantically with anyone. Which Steve understood, Bucky was healing, but maybe it was time to get back on the horse.

“Doesn’t matter. She’ll want nothing to do with me after she’s been in my head,” Bucky said, shrugging and finishing his drink.

“We told you that you don’t have to do it,” Steve argued again.

“He’s being a self-fulfilling prophecy, Cap. He’s afraid of hurting Hardin, so he thinks once she sees whats in his that she won't want anything to do with him,” Sam said, leaning on the counter and raising an eyebrow. “Tell me I’m wrong, Sergeant.”

“I’ll tell you-you're an asshole,” Bucky said and pushed himself off the stool and stomping out of the common room.

Bucky was trying to sort through all his feelings and thoughts on Layne Hardin and put some semblance of sense to them. It wasn’t long until he shook himself out of his thoughts to find himself standing outside her door. Bucky could feel the soft thudding of the bass rattling the door in its frame lightly. He shook his head, wondering how she could stand it being so loud and raised his hand to knock. It was when he caught sight of his raised metal hand that he froze. Bucky opened and closed the mechanical fingers and took a step back from her door. Layne was already going to need all of her focus on figuring herself out; she didn’t need him adding more turmoil to the mixture. Licking his lips and taking a deep breath, Bucky turned from Layne’s room crossed the hall and locked himself in his own.

“FRIDAY?” Bucky asked the air, laying down on his bed.

“Yes, Sgt. Barnes?” the soft Irish voice asked.

“Can you play that disc from Layne’s room, please?”

“Certainly, I’ll play at a lower volume than Ms. Hardin for you as I know you do not like loud noises,” FRIDAY responded and slow, stomping bass drum started followed by a growl of the guitar. Bucky laid there, trying to understand the feel of the music he was listening to before it dawned on him that he had heard the vocalist before. He smiled softly, as Layne Hardin sang from his speakers about whiskey, foolish men, and heartbreak.

NEXT CHAPTER

Tag list:

@tilltheendwilliwrite @inumorph @vaultingphilosophy @this-kitty-has-claws @suz-123 @fiveftofury @hippie-taco-lady @magellan-88 @winterbuttmunch

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #like a whisper in the night #avengers #avengers fanfiction #dorothy #fanfic #diinofayce

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idryusan · 6 years

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part 8. entangled.

solo, detail your parent’s initial and current thoughts on your career choice ( development prompt, +5 exp )

san’s relationship with his parents, with that added element of fame is somewhat complicated. his father? well, truthfully his father has never played a large part in san’s life. stoic, traditional. he’d let his mother take the reigns of san’s life and pull him wherever she’d wanted to. she was like that. all bigger than life, and he was content to work his way into obscurity. they clashed, he thinks. but there had never been room for arguments. san got turned into her hobby, a pet project, and it occupied her time. he was left to his own devices, and his own devices didn’t include san. the man feels like a stranger to him, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

san’s mother though? her thoughts haven’t changed. they’ve remained constant throughout the course of his life. from when he was still a trainee, to debut, to becoming a veteran. she’d always wanted it more than he did. he’s not even sure she’d ever really wanted a son. she just wanted a body to toss residual dreams on top of. that idealization of fame, of having something she could point to, declare was hears. stir up jealousy, or wonder. capitalize off of it. there’s a cafe in seoul, now. inSANiTEA, and it’s something she markets toward the fans. overpriced teas and espressos. memorabilia of olympus strung across the walls, his own signature scratched across the majority of it. pins and travel mugs for sale lining the shelves.

she was the one who turned him into the person that he is. she was the one who forced him into taking dance, acting, piano, singing lessons. she was the one dragging him along to photoshoots as a child. barely five and getting tucked into toddler-sized outfits for clothing shops and campaigns. he had a pretty face, he always had, and she’d taken advantage of that. was hell bent on turning him into a package deal. was hell bent on getting his name strung up in lights, and it didn’t matter how. san, as a child, did what she wanted. of course he did. he wanted his mother to love him. he wanted her to pay attention to him. and that really only happened when he did a good job. when he sat still, when he didn’t whine and cry about itchy fabrics or clips poking into his back. when he wasn’t being dragged off into a hallway, fingers curled tight around his arm and half-stumbling on over-sized shoes shoved onto his feet so that she could lecture him away from the staff. you’re humiliating me. you’re being embarrassing. at four, five, six, seven, he felt bad about that sort of thing, would squirm underneath the pressure of her fingers against his bicep. would blink in a harried fashion when she would get even angrier at the threat of tears. you still have pictures to take. what are you doing. are you a baby? he’d shake his head no. but he sort of was. was at least young enough to be overwhelmed by everything she expected out of him.

by the time he hit eight he had gotten better at sitting pointedly patient between takes. curling fingers in against the underside of his chair and playing boring games by himself. counting cameras, or floor tiles. if he was good enough, she’d buy him a mocha and let him take big gulps in between pictures, lick whip cream off the end of the straw. it’s probably twisted that san considers those moments, of her hand hovering just in front of him, leaning in to suck at a neon colored straw to be some of his favorites. a mother’s love, and she always showed hers through chocolate and caffeine. even now, when he realizes what she’d been doing. keeping him awake, he still can’t manage to paint over those days in a bad light. even now, it’s something he indulges in if he wants to feel better, even if he’s moved on to americanos. but that’s the thing about it, their relationship is odd. it’s cloying, and at times overwhelming. she was a force, one that shoved him toward his future. but without her and san isn’t sure who he would be. he hates her and he loves her all at once.

by the time he was eleven, twelve it was apparent he was skilled in dance. that was where he shone. mediocre in singing, alright at piano, abysmal at playing the part of an actor. but dancing? he could do that. it was decided he’d walk the path to becoming an idol when his instructor imparted this fact onto his mother. and that was how it began. when midas decided that they’d take him, his mother had been overjoyed. san took to trainee life better than most. he was used to the constant criticism, the verbal abuse that got hurled around and masqueraded as advice. was used to working himself to the bone, and used to failing to meet expectations set too high. thirteen, fourteen year old’s probably shouldn’t be. but maybe that was why he succeeded. maybe that was why they stuck him in olympus before his voice even finished maturing. they figured he could take it. and he could. his mother made sure he could. she’d tied a red string of a fate around his neck and forcefully dragged him, choking and struggling toward the checkpoints of his life.

he didn’t like his concept within the group, but she would chastise him if he brought it up. don’t be ungrateful. midas is a big company. do what you’re told, san. do you know how much money they’ve spent on you? and he has, hasn’t he? always done what he was told. at times it feels like his body is covered in hives. that he wants to itch his way out of it. he’s never constructed anything by himself, not entirely, but part of him feels grateful for that. he’s never been given the tools, and at this point he doesn’t even know how. where to begin. he’s been conditioned into depending too much on everyone around him, and it’s left him in a vulnerable position he doesn’t quite understand he’s in. doesn’t quite realize that it’s overwhelmingly difficult, at this point, not to turn and look at someone else. wait for them to make the end-point decision for him. asking for permission on a grand scale.

she’s here for his name value. she’s here to try and push him toward more. suggests acting, suggest chasing after higher acclaim. moves into his apartment for months at a time when he finally has one. pretends it’s like bonding, but it usually consists of more lectures. she has a way about her, a way of making him feel like he’s a child all over again, doing everything wrong. not living up to expectations. san might be hard now, indifferent, angry and stony to the world around him. but all she has to do is level him with a look and it all crumbles away. he’s ashamed, lacking once again. he’s not working hard enough. not listening well enough. wasting space, wasting his life, wasting everything all at once. he’s not sure how anymore, it feels like he’s given every single piece of himself away. what’s left of there to waste? but when she sits him down on the couch and starts in on one of her tirades he believes it. lets his mood sink down deep until all that self-hatred bubbles back up to the surface. everything ends in apologies from his own mouth, mumbled out, nearly apologetic sounding i love you’s before he leaves for a schedule. words that he means. genuinely.

he feels pathetic, sometimes.

he has memories of her watching his rehearsals as a trainee. throwing out barbs of criticism. of her catching him sneaking out of practice early to swallow down ice cream with his friends before he debuted. of getting berated about it for so long, so brutally until he cried. and san had already given up on the concept of crying at that point. he has memories of her ignoring him for three weeks after midas gave him bad feedback to a showcase she’d sat in on. he’d been fifteen, would come home after practice to their shared apartment and sit himself down on his mat. pick at his fingers and occasionally glance up at her profile as she read. hopeful questions, quiet and uncertain that would tumble from the tip of his tongue. do you want tea? or else, i did better today, i worked hard. that would go unacknowledged. until he got thrown into a dance project rehearsal and had wrung compliments out of the evaluators. then she’d decided to stroke his hair back from his face, lay compliments over a tired body, take him out. buy him sugar-laden coffee. tell him she was proud to have him for a son. hot and cold, and san had always been in a shocked state of trying to figure out how to handle that. trying to figure out what constituted as love. he’s learned it’s conditional. if he does well, he’s allowed to have it.

she doesn’t want to hear about his hardships. she doesn’t want to be witness to moments of defeat. doesn’t want to hear about how he collapsed after a concert. just says it was a smart decision when san admits that the article midas put out about him having anemia is fake. not to worry. a silly notion, she doesn’t worry. not about that. she knows san. she knows how strong he is, how far he can go. or that’s what he believes. because what is there left to, if he can’t believe the best of her? if he can’t believe that one day he might hit a point where all that judgement disappears? eight years into a group and it feels like he’s constantly running toward the end of a rainbow, something that’s gone by the time he makes it there.

but one day. one day he’ll find that gold. paint himself with it, a reflection of what midas wants to make him into.

golden. perfect.

it’s warped, what they have. she’s happy to pat at his back, his hair, when she appears on a variety show, in front of a camera. he’s all of seventeen and sobs when he sees her, for the first time in a year after a string of debut schedules, a constant flurry of activity. he’s embarrassed and choking back sobs and crouches in the corner upon the surprise visit of olympus’ relatives. she swipes away the tears on his cheeks, heartwarming captions appear underneath the screen. genuine. and it had been. he’d hugged her, and he can’t remember ever doing it before. ever doing it again after. there’s a discomfort found in physical affection for him sometimes. it feels wrong. he’s not sure why. but it does. maybe because he’s never really had it offered to him.

so san loves her. he does. and there’s a part of him that hates her, too. hates being an idol. hates being apart of olympus. hates having his entire life robbed from him. hates what people have turned him into, have done to him. what would have become of him if she had been just as placid as his father? he can’t even picture it. he was never allowed to opportunity to come up with pipe dreams. he was always in a race to impress. to reach those prescribed milestones.

so his mother says she loves him back. but sometime’s he’s not so sure if she loves him, or the concept of him. the image of san that gets plastered on billboards, the name value of olympus propping him up. shiny, manufactured. known.

maybe she just loves the fame. but it’s hard for san to bring himself to blame her. he’s not sure what else there could be left in him to love. if there was ever anything much to begin with.

#index.#solo.#solo.8 #oops this is long

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amtushinfosolutionspage · 6 years

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DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: Connor McDavid makes his Cup final pick – Wait, is this an option? I really should have been doing this all year long.

The second star: Matt Niskanen’s big night – You know what, I believe him. There isn’t much else to do in Las Vegas.

The first star: Alexander Ovechkin’s face – I enjoy watching Ovechkin watch playoff games.

And that was just one of several reaction shots from this week. In fact, the only thing he apparently doesn’t react to is getting hit directly in the face with a puck:

Be It Resolved

The Golden Knights hosted the first two games of the Stanley Cup Final this week, and as you’d expect, they went all-out on the spectacle. Wednesday’s second game featured an opening ceremony that including a knight, some archers, laser drummers, and a concert by Imagine Dragons, and if you’re disappointed that you missed it then you’re in luck because I’m pretty sure it’s still going on.

We’ve covered the question of the Knights’ pregame festivities before, but let me reiterate my stance here: I’m fully on board. I’m all in. Let Montreal and Detroit and whoever else deliver solemn ceremonies that honor the game’s sacred traditions. We put a hockey team in freaking Las Vegas. Let them get weird.

But maybe, just maybe, they could remember to work in the actual game too.

This is a recurring issue with NHL games, where the start times have drifted off over the years to the point where you just expect everything to be 20 minutes late. It’s not a Vegas problem; they’re just making it worse. Or maybe better, since if you have to wait around you may as well be entertained. I’d rather watch a knight fight an airplane than listen to the broadcast team go over line matchups for the third time, and I’m betting you would too.

But I’d also rather watch some hockey, at least eventually. If that makes me the fun police, then OK. That’s kind of a weird stance for a hockey fan—”Oh, this guy actually wants to watch an NHL game, he must hate fun”—but fill your boots. I don’t doubt that this is all great if you’re one of the thousands of people in the building. But there are also millions of us at home who are patiently waiting for puck drop while this rock band works through their fourth iteration of Generic Arena Sports Anthem, so maybe get to it already.

To be clear, I’m not saying the Knights should rein in their pregame fun when the series returns to town next week. Hell, I want them to take it even further. It’s the Stanley Cup Final, so go all out. Have Wayne Newton do a set. Have David Copperfield fly around the arena. Have one of those weird puppet guys that nobody has ever heard of but have like nine giant billboards all along the strip do whatever it is they do. Find that 50-foot tall Michael Jackson robot that was supposed to be wandering the desert and let it loose. Send out Mantecore to eat Tom Wilson. You’re Vegas. There are no limits.

Just, you know, maybe figure out a reasonable start time for the game and then work backwards. Start the ceremony right now if you need to. This may end up being a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so enjoy all of it. Just don’t forget the hockey part.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

There’s a chance that this will be the last Grab Bag of the playoffs, and that by next Friday the Final will be over and we’ll have crowned a champion. If so, somebody will have scored the Stanley Cup-winning goal, joining a list of players that includes Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard, Bobby Orr and Mike Bossy (twice each), and Wayne Gretzky.

That list also includes a handful of obscure players, including this week’s pick: Wayne Merrick.

Merrick was a big center who tore up the OHL for the Ottawa 67s in the early 70s. That led to the Blues making him the ninth overall pick in the 1972 draft, which was kind of terrible apart from Bill Barber and Steve Shutt. Merrick wasn’t quite as good as those two guys, but at least he made the NHL, which is more than we can say about that year’s tenth overall pick, Al Blanchard.

Merrick debuted with the Blues that season, scored ten goals, and became a regular contributor until he was traded to the Golden Seals early in the 1975-76 season. He finished that season with a career-best 32 goals, although his numbers fell off after the Seals moved to Cleveland. So did pretty much everyone else’s, come to think of it.

Merrick lucked out in 1978 when he was traded to the Islanders in a deal for J.P. Parise (Zach’s father). That Islanders team was about to become a dynasty, winning four straight Cups from 1980 through 1983, and while Merrick was hardly a star, he played a key role while centering the “Banana Line” with Bob Nystrom and John Tonelli. He’d end up playing 95 playoff games with the team, scoring 18 goals. One of those was the Cup winner in 1981, as Merrick’s goal held up in a 5-1 win over the North Stars in the Game 5 clincher.

Merrick played for the Islanders until 1984, then retired. He finished his career with 191 goals in 774 games to go along with those four Cup rings.

Debating the Issues

This week’s debate: The NHL is 101 years old. But is it fun to learn about the league’s history?

In favor: Oh for sure. Over the course of its history, the NHL has provided us with all sorts of fascinating twists and turns, both on and off the ice. I can’t think of anything more interesting than learning all about the key moments that shaped the league we have today.

Opposed: All of that is undoubtedly true, my friend. But history can be so dull and boring. Nobody wants to comb through some dry textbook just to learn about something they enjoy.

In favor: Ah, but history doesn’t have to be dry. What if you could retrace a century of key events, but in a light-hearted and easy-to-enjoy format that placed the focus on the fun and the funny?

Opposed: That sounds great! But does such a thing exist?

In favor: Wouldn’t it be great if it did?

Opposed: Hey wait, is this feeling kind of … off? This isn’t the usual tone for this section. The whole thing seems kind of forced.

In favor: Imagine sitting down with a history of the NHL that was written for the average fan, one who wants to read all about the great moments and the bizarre ones, and everything in between.

Opposed: Like, nobody talks this way. We sound ridiculous right now.

In favor: I know I’d pay top dollar for just such a book!

Opposed: Wait, is this all just some stupid plug?

In favor: But who? Who could write such a book?

Opposed: This is pathetic.

In favor: Well, there’s good news!

Opposed: Let me guess…

In favor: The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL was announced this week, and is available now for pre-order in both Canada and the USA. Hockey fans will delight in this whimsical retelling of the league’s history, with an emphasis on the weird and wonderful. From The Rocket to Mr. Rogers, The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL tells the full story of the world’s most beautiful sport, as presented by the world’s most ridiculous league.

Opposed: Did you honestly just say “whimsical”? Literally no real person has ever used that word.

In favor: In this fun, irreverent, and fact-filled history, Sean McIndoe relates the flip side to the National Hockey League’s storied past.

Opposed: You literally just cut-and-pasted that off the book cover.

In favor: Look man, I spent a year writing this thing. I barely saw my family, I almost went blind squinting at old newspaper clippings, and they’ve sent me “one last round of edits” like six times in the last month. And after all of that, the whole thing still isn’t completely finished because the stupid Golden Knights came along and wrecked one of the last chapters. So help me out here.

Opposed: Sigh. Fine. You do what you have to do.

In favor: Thanks.

Opposed: But can we go back to complaining about instant replay review soon?

In favor: Next week after the Cup-winning goal gets waved off, I promise.

The final verdict: Well gosh, looks like we’ll all be getting our Christmas shopping done early this year!

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Today is the first day of June, and there was a time when that meant that the hockey season would have been long over with. Not any more, of course—the playoffs have stretched into June for years now. So today, let’s welcome the new month by going back to the first NHL game ever played in June.

It’s June 1, 1992 and we’re in Chicago for Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Final. The Penguins are up 3-0 in the series and looking for the sweep and for their second straight Cup win. As a side note, they’re also looking for the 11th straight win in a single postseason, which would tie the record previously held by [checks notes] the 1992 Blackhawks. Huh. Maybe 1992 wasn’t the best year for parity. I’m sure nobody enjoyed it.

Our clip begins with a vaguely weird aside about how the legendary Chicago Stadium will soon be torn down and replaced with a modern arena. The Stadium really was an amazing place to watch hockey, but the weird part is that it wasn’t actually replaced for two more years, so the somber tone here feels a little premature.

Speaking of the end of the Chicago Stadium, it was the Maple Leafs who shut it down, and they did it with a 1-0 win. Eat that, Hawks fans. I’m sure nothing has happened in the ensuring quarter-century that you can throw back in my face.

The scoring starts less than two minutes in when Jaromir Jagr rips a shot that makes Eddie Belfour do an adorable pirouette. Wow, one goal, I wonder if Mike Keenan will pull him, we all joke to ourselves. Yeah, hold that thought.

The Blackhawks tie it up a few minutes later, as Dirk Graham cuts across the zone and beats Tom Barrasso. I know that whenever we do these old 80s or early 90s games, we always beat the whole “goaltending was terrible back then” observation into the ground, but go back and rewatch this goal. Graham basically moves from the inside edge of one faceoff circle to the other—like maybe ten feet total—and Barrasso is reduced to having to do a sideways bunny hop to stay with him, then falls down as soon as he makes the first save. And remember, Barrasso was a borderline Hall-of-Famer. This is just how goalies moved back then. In hindsight, it’s amazing every game didn’t end up being 13-12.

On a related note, the previous game of this final was a 1-0 Penguins win. I’m not sure anything about early 90s hockey made any sense other than Mario Lemieux was good and if you fought Wendel Clark your face would explode. Other than that, you were on your own.

The Penguins come right back a few seconds later with a Kevin Stevens goal. “Ah, look out Loretta.” Did I mention that our play-by-play guy here is Mike Lange? You probably figured that part out on your own.

The Stevens goal spells the end for Belfour, which gives us the opportunity to remember that their backup was goofy European weirdo Dominik Hasek, who at this point is 28 and not very good. Two years later he’ll win the first of six Vezinas. Seriously, my “early 90s hockey made no sense” theory might be on to something.

Lange is telling us a story about Hasek being drafted in 1983 “when it wasn’t real fashionable to draft people,” at which point the Blackhawks score to make it 2-2. I know the goal interrupts Lange just as he was going to make a point about drafting Europeans, but I prefer to imagine he had completed his thought and that it was just unfashionable to draft anyone at all in 1983. (For one team, that was actually true.)

The Penguins regain the lead as Lemieux and Hasek perform a short play entitled “What the Nagano shootout should have looked like.” But Graham comes right back with his hat trick goal, and we’re tied again. At this point we have one of those fun old-hockey-highlights moments where you realize it’s still the first period and remember how much fun this sport is when everyone’s defensive strategy was “Screw defense, I’d rather score.”

Rick Tocchet somehow overcomes the ferocious backchecking of a young Jeremy Roenick to make it 4-3 early in the second. But Roenick makes amends with a fluky goal late in the period, and we head to the third tied again.

It’s always fun during a high-scoring highlights package when the guy putting the clips together is like “Oh yeah, I should probably work in one save.” In this case it’s Lemieux getting a breakaway, only to be robbed by a sprawling Hasek. Maybe scratch that thought about if Mario had been in Nagano. Not because of this save, just because I realized Marc Crawford probably would have had Eric Desjardins shoot instead.

Larry Murphy gives the Pens their fifth lead of the game, and this time they manage to pad it when Ron Francis “beats goaltender Hasek like a rented mule.” The good: Mike Lange. The bad: Every play-by-play guy from the next 25 years who convinced himself his catchphrases were as funny as Mike Lange’s.

Roenick makes it 6-5 off a feed from Stu Grimson with nine minutes left. Why yes, The Grim Reaper was still getting a regular shift with nine minutes left and his team trailing in a Cup Final elimination game. And it paid off. The early 90s. Sense made? None.

But that’s all the Hawks would get, as we cut ahead to the dying seconds. Lange does that wonderful play-by-play thing where he starts in with his “we win” call but then realizes he’s a few second early and has to backtrack. But he makes up for it with his all-time classic “Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley, bring me the brandy” call.

Wait, is it me or did he actually say “get me the brandy”? I’m pretty sure he did. This is like finding out that Sherlock Holmes never said “Elementary, my dear Watson” in any of the books. I swear, if it turns out Lange never asked us to sneak up and mutilate him with a hacksaw I’m going to question everything from my childhood.

And that’s it for our clip. The Penguins win the Cup, and the season ends just hours into June. And in case you were wondering why the season stretched on so long in 1992, it’s because there was a ten-day player strike just before the playoffs. A work stoppage, hockey being played in June, and a Blackhawks/Penguins matchup? Man, no wonder Gary Bettman couldn’t wait to get on board a few months later.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you’d like to see included in this column? Email Sean at [email protected].

DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

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flauntpage · 6 years

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DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: Connor McDavid makes his Cup final pick – Wait, is this an option? I really should have been doing this all year long.

The second star: Matt Niskanen's big night – You know what, I believe him. There isn't much else to do in Las Vegas.

The first star: Alexander Ovechkin's face – I enjoy watching Ovechkin watch playoff games.

And that was just one of several reaction shots from this week. In fact, the only thing he apparently doesn't react to is getting hit directly in the face with a puck:

Be It Resolved

The Golden Knights hosted the first two games of the Stanley Cup Final this week, and as you'd expect, they went all-out on the spectacle. Wednesday's second game featured an opening ceremony that including a knight, some archers, laser drummers, and a concert by Imagine Dragons, and if you're disappointed that you missed it then you're in luck because I'm pretty sure it's still going on.

We've covered the question of the Knights' pregame festivities before, but let me reiterate my stance here: I'm fully on board. I'm all in. Let Montreal and Detroit and whoever else deliver solemn ceremonies that honor the game's sacred traditions. We put a hockey team in freaking Las Vegas. Let them get weird.

But maybe, just maybe, they could remember to work in the actual game too.

This is a recurring issue with NHL games, where the start times have drifted off over the years to the point where you just expect everything to be 20 minutes late. It's not a Vegas problem; they're just making it worse. Or maybe better, since if you have to wait around you may as well be entertained. I'd rather watch a knight fight an airplane than listen to the broadcast team go over line matchups for the third time, and I'm betting you would too.

But I'd also rather watch some hockey, at least eventually. If that makes me the fun police, then OK. That's kind of a weird stance for a hockey fan—"Oh, this guy actually wants to watch an NHL game, he must hate fun"—but fill your boots. I don't doubt that this is all great if you're one of the thousands of people in the building. But there are also millions of us at home who are patiently waiting for puck drop while this rock band works through their fourth iteration of Generic Arena Sports Anthem, so maybe get to it already.

To be clear, I'm not saying the Knights should rein in their pregame fun when the series returns to town next week. Hell, I want them to take it even further. It's the Stanley Cup Final, so go all out. Have Wayne Newton do a set. Have David Copperfield fly around the arena. Have one of those weird puppet guys that nobody has ever heard of but have like nine giant billboards all along the strip do whatever it is they do. Find that 50-foot tall Michael Jackson robot that was supposed to be wandering the desert and let it loose. Send out Mantecore to eat Tom Wilson. You're Vegas. There are no limits.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

There's a chance that this will be the last Grab Bag of the playoffs, and that by next Friday the Final will be over and we'll have crowned a champion. If so, somebody will have scored the Stanley Cup-winning goal, joining a list of players that includes Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard, Bobby Orr and Mike Bossy (twice each), and Wayne Gretzky.

That list also includes a handful of obscure players, including this week's pick: Wayne Merrick.

Merrick was a big center who tore up the OHL for the Ottawa 67s in the early 70s. That led to the Blues making him the ninth overall pick in the 1972 draft, which was kind of terrible apart from Bill Barber and Steve Shutt. Merrick wasn't quite as good as those two guys, but at least he made the NHL, which is more than we can say about that year's tenth overall pick, Al Blanchard.

Merrick lucked out in 1978 when he was traded to the Islanders in a deal for J.P. Parise (Zach's father). That Islanders team was about to become a dynasty, winning four straight Cups from 1980 through 1983, and while Merrick was hardly a star, he played a key role while centering the "Banana Line" with Bob Nystrom and John Tonelli. He'd end up playing 95 playoff games with the team, scoring 18 goals. One of those was the Cup winner in 1981, as Merrick's goal held up in a 5-1 win over the North Stars in the Game 5 clincher.

Merrick played for the Islanders until 1984, then retired. He finished his career with 191 goals in 774 games to go along with those four Cup rings.

Debating the Issues

This week’s debate: The NHL is 101 years old. But is it fun to learn about the league's history?

In favor: Oh for sure. Over the course of its history, the NHL has provided us with all sorts of fascinating twists and turns, both on and off the ice. I can't think of anything more interesting than learning all about the key moments that shaped the league we have today.

Opposed: All of that is undoubtedly true, my friend. But history can be so dull and boring. Nobody wants to comb through some dry textbook just to learn about something they enjoy.

In favor: Ah, but history doesn't have to be dry. What if you could retrace a century of key events, but in a light-hearted and easy-to-enjoy format that placed the focus on the fun and the funny?

Opposed: That sounds great! But does such a thing exist?

In favor: Wouldn't it be great if it did?

Opposed: Hey wait, is this feeling kind of … off? This isn't the usual tone for this section. The whole thing seems kind of forced.

In favor: Imagine sitting down with a history of the NHL that was written for the average fan, one who wants to read all about the great moments and the bizarre ones, and everything in between.

Opposed: Like, nobody talks this way. We sound ridiculous right now.

In favor: I know I'd pay top dollar for just such a book!

Opposed: Wait, is this all just some stupid plug?

In favor: But who? Who could write such a book?

Opposed: This is pathetic.

In favor: Well, there's good news!

Opposed: Let me guess…

In favor: The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL was announced this week, and is available now for pre-order in both Canada and the USA. Hockey fans will delight in this whimsical retelling of the league's history, with an emphasis on the weird and wonderful. From The Rocket to Mr. Rogers, The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL tells the full story of the world's most beautiful sport, as presented by the world's most ridiculous league.

Opposed: Did you honestly just say "whimsical"? Literally no real person has ever used that word.

In favor: In this fun, irreverent, and fact-filled history, Sean McIndoe relates the flip side to the National Hockey League's storied past.

Opposed: You literally just cut-and-pasted that off the book cover.

In favor: Look man, I spent a year writing this thing. I barely saw my family, I almost went blind squinting at old newspaper clippings, and they've sent me "one last round of edits" like six times in the last month. And after all of that, the whole thing still isn't completely finished because the stupid Golden Knights came along and wrecked one of the last chapters. So help me out here.

Opposed: Sigh. Fine. You do what you have to do.

In favor: Thanks.

Opposed: But can we go back to complaining about instant replay review soon?

In favor: Next week after the Cup-winning goal gets waved off, I promise.

The final verdict: Well gosh, looks like we'll all be getting our Christmas shopping done early this year!

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Today is the first day of June, and there was a time when that meant that the hockey season would have been long over with. Not any more, of course—the playoffs have stretched into June for years now. So today, let's welcome the new month by going back to the first NHL game ever played in June.

It's June 1, 1992 and we're in Chicago for Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Final. The Penguins are up 3-0 in the series and looking for the sweep and for their second straight Cup win. As a side note, they're also looking for the 11th straight win in a single postseason, which would tie the record previously held by [checks notes] the 1992 Blackhawks. Huh. Maybe 1992 wasn't the best year for parity. I'm sure nobody enjoyed it.

Our clip begins with a vaguely weird aside about how the legendary Chicago Stadium will soon be torn down and replaced with a modern arena. The Stadium really was an amazing place to watch hockey, but the weird part is that it wasn't actually replaced for two more years, so the somber tone here feels a little premature.

Speaking of the end of the Chicago Stadium, it was the Maple Leafs who shut it down, and they did it with a 1-0 win. Eat that, Hawks fans. I'm sure nothing has happened in the ensuring quarter-century that you can throw back in my face.

The Blackhawks tie it up a few minutes later, as Dirk Graham cuts across the zone and beats Tom Barrasso. I know that whenever we do these old 80s or early 90s games, we always beat the whole "goaltending was terrible back then" observation into the ground, but go back and rewatch this goal. Graham basically moves from the inside edge of one faceoff circle to the other—like maybe ten feet total—and Barrasso is reduced to having to do a sideways bunny hop to stay with him, then falls down as soon as he makes the first save. And remember, Barrasso was a borderline Hall-of-Famer. This is just how goalies moved back then. In hindsight, it's amazing every game didn't end up being 13-12.

On a related note, the previous game of this final was a 1-0 Penguins win. I'm not sure anything about early 90s hockey made any sense other than Mario Lemieux was good and if you fought Wendel Clark your face would explode. Other than that, you were on your own.

The Penguins come right back a few seconds later with a Kevin Stevens goal. "Ah, look out Loretta." Did I mention that our play-by-play guy here is Mike Lange? You probably figured that part out on your own.

The Stevens goal spells the end for Belfour, which gives us the opportunity to remember that their backup was goofy European weirdo Dominik Hasek, who at this point is 28 and not very good. Two years later he'll win the first of six Vezinas. Seriously, my "early 90s hockey made no sense" theory might be on to something.

Lange is telling us a story about Hasek being drafted in 1983 "when it wasn't real fashionable to draft people," at which point the Blackhawks score to make it 2-2. I know the goal interrupts Lange just as he was going to make a point about drafting Europeans, but I prefer to imagine he had completed his thought and that it was just unfashionable to draft anyone at all in 1983. (For one team, that was actually true.)

The Penguins regain the lead as Lemieux and Hasek perform a short play entitled "What the Nagano shootout should have looked like." But Graham comes right back with his hat trick goal, and we're tied again. At this point we have one of those fun old-hockey-highlights moments where you realize it's still the first period and remember how much fun this sport is when everyone's defensive strategy was "Screw defense, I'd rather score."

It's always fun during a high-scoring highlights package when the guy putting the clips together is like "Oh yeah, I should probably work in one save." In this case it's Lemieux getting a breakaway, only to be robbed by a sprawling Hasek. Maybe scratch that thought about if Mario had been in Nagano. Not because of this save, just because I realized Marc Crawford probably would have had Eric Desjardins shoot instead.

Larry Murphy gives the Pens their fifth lead of the game, and this time they manage to pad it when Ron Francis "beats goaltender Hasek like a rented mule." The good: Mike Lange. The bad: Every play-by-play guy from the next 25 years who convinced himself his catchphrases were as funny as Mike Lange's.

But that's all the Hawks would get, as we cut ahead to the dying seconds. Lange does that wonderful play-by-play thing where he starts in with his "we win" call but then realizes he's a few second early and has to backtrack. But he makes up for it with his all-time classic "Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley, bring me the brandy" call.

Wait, is it me or did he actually say "get me the brandy"? I'm pretty sure he did. This is like finding out that Sherlock Holmes never said "Elementary, my dear Watson" in any of the books. I swear, if it turns out Lange never asked us to sneak up and mutilate him with a hacksaw I'm going to question everything from my childhood.

And that's it for our clip. The Penguins win the Cup, and the season ends just hours into June. And in case you were wondering why the season stretched on so long in 1992, it's because there was a ten-day player strike just before the playoffs. A work stoppage, hockey being played in June, and a Blackhawks/Penguins matchup? Man, no wonder Gary Bettman couldn't wait to get on board a few months later.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at [email protected].

DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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firehawk12 · 7 years

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Hot Docs 2017

I didn’t expect to watch as many films as I did during the festival, but the student pass certainly helped encourage watching films that I may have otherwise simply passed on otherwise. This is a couple of weeks late, but here are the films I watched in chronological order of screening date.

Raise Your Arms and Twist — Documentary of NMB48

As someone who follows Japanese culture mostly through the lens of it’s otaku fair — anime, manga, jdrama, and variety shows — it’s almost impossible to avoid the AKB phenomenon. Artificially constructed or not, the influence of this idol franchise simply branches out to other forms of entertainment, making them synonymous with Japanese popular culture.

The NMB documentary is in an interesting look at the idol industry because of both its subject matter and the behind the scenes production issues. There have been several varnished AKB documentaries that have been released previously (at least two have been fan-subbed and are available in places where you would watch fan-subbed content), but there is something interesting about following what amounts to the “farm team” in NMB. Whether this depiction of NMB is true or not, the film wants us to believe that of the four main AKB groups, NMB is the least popular — and that even the popularity of the star of NMB pales in comparison to the regular AKB members. The fact that the film is directed by Toda Yoshihisa, who is a legitimate filmmaker, and not by an insider (for example, the HKT48 documentary was directed by a former member and present manager Rino Sashihara) allows for a unique perspective to the film that makes it more than just a marketing tool.

Yes, the film is promotional — there are countless clips of concert performances, perhaps in an attempt to try to push album sales — but there the film shows some of the less glamorous aspects of being an idol, even for one of the biggest idol franchises/factories in Japan. A couple of stories emerge to help paint an interesting picture of being a member of NMB. Ayaka Okita’s struggle to be given the opportunity to appear in one of “senbatsu” songs (what I take to be the Japanese idol equivalent of summer song), only to be told that she has “behavioral problems” that prevent her from being selected. Ririka Suto, whose Nietzsche-filled monologues frame the film for the audience, reveals to the audience that the idols themselves see their role is constructed, that they have no opportunity to self-actualization because they must perform and conform to the roles assigned to them. We also get to see Sayaka Yamamoto, the captain of NMB and the group’s most popular member, toil in the relative obscurity of sister group AKB’s shadow. We also get to see one of the least popular members, Saki Kono, eventually give up her career as an idol when she realizes that she will never have any fans. The documentary provides a very broad spectrum of the idol experience, exposing it to the audience warts and all. That’s not to say that the girls don’t know what they’re getting into — when the film follows Fuuko Yagura, we see that she wants to be an idol because she sees it as a way to earn an income to help support her family.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this documentary, but it gave me a glimpse into a world that I’ve been curious about but haven’t had the chance to access on my own.

Also, I still can’t get this song out of my head. Durian as a metaphor for love that goes beyond physical appearance, who would have thought?

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Tokyo Idols

I was a bit surprised that there were two idol documentaries at Hot Docs this year, but this film ended up being a nice companion piece to the NMB documentary. Tokyo Idols follows the smaller, lesser known, underground idol groups that dot Japan. There are several idols that are documented for the film, but the film’s primary subject is Rio Hiiragi, an Akihabara idol who struggles to get mainstream attention.

Unlike the girls at NMB, Rio has to do everything on her own. In that respect, watching her basically hustle to get fans, I’m reminded of the Western phenomenon of “Twitch stars” (or even Instagram stars), where people have to continually grind out content to keep viewers happy and subscribed to their feeds. One of Rio’s stunts to try to drum up more fans was to tour Japan on a bike, while constantly livestreaming in order to keep her “home” fans updated. It’s not just about looking pretty, because based on the work that Rio puts into her career, it’s very much about her personality and drive as well.

Indeed, the film also follows several fans — including Rio’s fan club — and you see how these people have essentially placed all their hopes and dreams on the success of the girl that they are choosing to follow. It’s both innocent and also somewhat sad, since for these (mostly) male fans, they’re treating these idols as surrogate daughters or sisters to dote on. Rio’s main fan admits becoming an idol fan because he sees her as a second chance — he might not be able to live out his dreams, but maybe he can help Rio achieve her dreams. There’s an implicit understanding that the relationship they have with her will always be platonic — in a Q&A with the director after the screening, she spoke about an incident when a fan tried to pursue a romantic relationship with Rio and how her fan club had to essentially restrain him from coming to any of her shows.

The documentary also provides some more social context to explain the idol phenomenon, it’s suggested that it grew out of the economic recession and people’s desire to try to find something positive in their lives. The film also critiques it examining the model of femininity the idol industry projects to society. It actually reminded me a lot of the controversy surrounding the notion of the beauty pageant in the West, and how commentators have suggested that perhaps a contest where women are judged on their appearance may help project negative expectations of femininity into society as a whole.

One thing that isn’t really discussed in this film is the actual “profession” itself. Since Rio and the girls featured in this documentary are essentially independent, it’s not clear if they write their own songs or choreograph their own dances. In the climax of the film, Rio gets a measure of success when she is discovered by music producer Hyadain who writes a song for her:

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But there’s no real indication of where her previous songs come from. I can’t imagine that all of these girls write their own songs, so it would have been interesting to see what it takes to actually perform as an idol.

Jeremiah Tower: The Last Magnificent

Although not part of the festival, I watched it in the same week and it IS a documentary, so… I’m going to count it!

I’ve been moderately interested in modern cuisine ever since I started watching various cooking competition shows. I’m not really qualified to make any judgments about food — I think deconstructed dishes are asinine and I was glad that in a Q&A after the film, Tower himself was fed up with the smears and dabs that you see in fine dining restaurants now — but it was interesting to see where the biggest part phenomenon of modern cuisine came from.

Although the origins are contentious, the film suggests that Tower is the first chef to really celebrate local ingredients. So while he is classically trained, he took his skill and applied it to fresh Californian ingredients rather than simply dole out the same old French and English dishes cooked with frozen ingredients that were expected of chefs at the time. The legacy of that simple revelation can be felt today, as even Chinese cuisine is being reinvented by Chinese chefs with Western training who want to feature Chinese ingredients.

The film also tries to be a biography of the man himself, but it is mostly a surface examination of his life. We get an understanding of his troubled childhood and how he found refuge in food, but for a man who famously dropped off the face of the Earth after restaurant failed, the film almost chooses not to explore this troubled time in his life. Instead, the film simply jumps forward to the time when he randomly came back onto the scene by taking over Tavern on the Green, the famous Central Park restaurant that has struggled to be relevant in the face of the contemporary restaurant scene.

I appreciated the film for enlightening me on a subject I have an interest in, but I’m also not sure if this wouldn’t have just been better off as a TV special or an episode of Bourdain’s show instead.

Living The Game

Admittedly, my initial interest in the film was based on the still above, making the assumption that the film would be about Daigo Umehara. I wanted to get a glimpse of the Japanese competitive gaming scene, but also get a glimpse into the life of a man who is fairly reserved in the public appearances that I’ve seen him participate in.

So at first I was disappointed when I saw that other players were profiled in the film — this includes Luffy, Justin Wong, and Gamerbee — but my doubts were quashed when I saw his footage of Momochi and his girlfriend/partner ChocoBlanka. That’s not to say the other stories weren’t interesting — we get to see Luffy try to juggle his life as an officer worker after winning Evo 2014, Gamerbee giving us a glimpse into his life and the troubled relationship he had with his absent father, and of course Justin Wong’s story (which has already been covered in greater detail in another documentary The King of Chinatown) and his infamous loss to Daigo.

But Takao Gotsu crafted an arc with Momochi. Perhaps it was easier to follow a Japanese player over the course of a year that led to Momochi being the focus of the film, but whatever the reason, it’s clear that he saw some interesting human drama in the brief glimpses of Momochi’s private life that are on display. We see Momochi evolve from a short-tempered, extremely serious player whose dedication is rewarded by the infamous win at Evo 2015, to a humbled man who loses the Capcom Cup title by the end of the year. In his loss, he learns that trying to chase down Daigo shouldn’t be his focus, and begins to focus on the relationship he has with ChocoBlanka — we see a scene where he yells at her and makes her cry because she isn’t properly executing her moves in a practice game of Street Fighter, before getting a scene where he publicly proposes to her and becomes a supportive husband.

Daigo serves mostly to provide context for Momochi’s arc. Daigo is the wall that Momochi must climb, but he can never quite make it over. So while we get some glimpses into Daigo’s life, we don’t really learn anything about him. He practices a lot at home, he practices in an arcade, he practices in a game room with other Japanese players… and that’s about it. But that’s fine, because Daigo serves to make Momochi’s story more interesting. Yes, it’s a film about the Fighting Game Community, but in this documentary you can see a bit of Moby Dick, as Momochi continually tries to catch the white whale that is Daigo. Thankfully, we see that he has a happier ending after he learns to let go of his ambitions and become a better person instead.

(The relationship between the two, even though it’s not hostile, reminds me very much of the big conflict in The King of Kong between Steve Wiebe and Billy Mitchell)

Ramen Heads

I was sold on this film based on a mild interest in the process of making ramen. The film itself admits that it’s a simple dish — born out of post-war poverty — that is made complex due to the particularities of each chef. The comparisons to Jiro Dreams of Sushi are perhaps unavoidable, since part of the film features Osamu Tomita, one of the best ramen chefs in Japan. We get to see his entire process, starting with his work in his prep kitchen in creating the broth and noodles, and ending with how he “plates” each bowl of ramen for the customer. We also get brief snippets of his life outside of the restaurant, with an explanation of his first apprenticeship and a look at his family life. But while Jiro was focused on trying to explore the man behind the food, Ramen Heads only makes perfunctory gestures toward trying to discover Tomita’s philosophy.

Admittedly, perhaps one reason for that difference in portrayal is due to Tomita’s age. He doesn’t have a complicated relationship with a son who is constantly living in his shadow, for one, and neither does he have a (comparatively) hard past to reminisce on. To make up for that though, the film compensates by giving audiences much more context about ramen as a uniquely Japanese cuisine.

The director and crew travel across Japan, finding chefs who are famous for other types of ramen. For most of these chefs, there’s a dedication to the craft that one might expect, but for me the surprise was the oldest chef who didn’t look at ramen as some kind of art. He treated his work as a business and just wanted to sell as many bowls as he can in order to make a living, which is something that can be a bit lost when it comes to cuisine-based documentaries.

The film ends with Tomita teaming up with two other ramen chefs to make the “ultimate” bowl of ramen, and we’re given the impression that it’s a special sight to see the three of them work together. This part was a bit lost on me, but seeing the reactions of some patrons to seeing them together in one place was enough to sell the importance of the moment for me.

It was interesting watching this after the Jeremiah Tower biopic, because I think this is probably more what I was looking for — yes, some insight on the man cooking the food is important, but some emphasis on the food itself is important too.

Hobbyhorse Revolution

The programmers mentioned that theme of this year’s selections was obsession, and of the films that I’ve seen, I think this film fits the bill the best. It reminds me of a contemporary version of Trekkies, a documentary that followed the lives of various people obsessed with Star Trek and the influence that their fanaticism had on their lives (I still remember the woman who chose to wore her Star Trek uniform to jury duty).

The subjects of the documentary treat their hobbyhorses much in the same way that the Trekkies treated Star Trek — it’s something that allows them to escape, however momentarily, the painful aspects of their lives and be consumed in a subject that has strictly defined rules and a seemingly open and welcoming community. For example, one of the girls in the film was bullied and sought solace in horse riding, but when her horse died, she discovered the hobbyhorse and used that to help cope with her depression instead.

The interesting thing is that, at least at the time of this writing, the media seemed to have picked up stories of the popularity of the hobbyhorse in Finland. I’m not sure if this documentary is responsible, or if it just became an interesting news story for people to talk about, but with more than ten thousand practitioners in Finland, it’s certainly more than just a passing fad. That’s probably the one criticism I have of the film — that there isn’t any examination as to why girls in Finland have embraced the hobbyhorse, and in particular, hobbyhorse competitions. It is apparently a uniquely Finnish phenomenon, but it’s something that isn’t addressed in a meaningful manner.

The Silent Teacher

The film is an exploration of the process of donating a body to medical research in Taiwan. We see how these cadavers, referred to as “teachers” (laoshi) by the medical students, are treated — starting with the embalming processes all the way through to cremation after the students are finished studying the body.

It’s an interesting cultural document, since donating bodies to science is an issue surrounding death that is rarely addressed (even in North America, there are many drives to try to get people to become organ donors, but not that many to get people to donate their bodies to universities to be dissected and studied). We also get to see how the family of the donated body copes with delaying putting their loved one to rest, as they must wait a year before the body can even be used in a classroom and then another year before the body is returned to them after cremation. That the family is Catholic also adds a unique dimension to the process of grief, as we see a combination of Catholic and Chinese rituals to help the family process the nature of death.

Sunday Beauty Queen

One of the issues I remember reading about during my time teaching in Women’s Studies is the problematic nature of modern feminism in the current economic client. While women in First World countries are given more rights and are encouraged to enter the workforce, a gap is left in the homes of families with dependents. This is true in Canada, where many of my students had Filipino nannies who took care of them while their parents were out of the home, and it’s certainly true in Asia as well, as more affluent nations import Filipino women to run their households.

This film follows the life of Filipino women in Hong Kong, and the difficult life that they lead as they slave away for their employers. While some of these workers are treated with some form of respect and dignity, it’s clear that many are not — they are expected to live in the home of their employer, and in many cases, forced to sleep in whatever spare space is available. One worker relates a story about how her employer forcibly cut off her hair because she refused to pay for a trip to the salon, while another is fired simply for missing their curfew. We see one of these women eat her dinner, but tucked away in a different room than the family, because the “help” doesn’t share the table with her employers.Their jobs are precarious, because they can get fired for any reason, and if they lose their jobs they must find another employer within 14 days or face deportation.

While they slave away for the entire week, Sundays are their day off. It’s on these days that these women choose to become beauty queens, entering pageants organized by Leo, a domestic worker who has been in Hong Kong for over two decades. We see these pageants are more than just a contest between women, but as the one day a week that these women who are isolated by the difficult nature of their jobs are able to become a part of a shared community. Yes, the pageants they are competing in may be trivial, but it’s a day in their dreary week where they are allowed to focus on themselves and be with friends.

Admittedly, the Chinese employers that do appear on film are thoughtful about the nature of the relationship they have with their Filipino employees. Reminiscent of the reality of illegal immigrant workers in the United States, one Chinese employer acknowledges that Filipino workers are a big factor in keeping Hong Kong a functioning society.

The film also doesn’t shy away from the economic realities of the situation. Many of the women documented in the film are college graduates who might otherwise be white collar professionals in the Philippines. But when they can make twice as much money living in Hong Kong as a nanny than they would as a teacher, nurse, programmer, etc. back home, the choice isn’t that hard to make. We also get to see these women bond with their charges, taking the children under their care to school and making them meals, while their own children are left at home with relatives. While mothers anywhere else might have a tearful moment sending their child off for the first day of school, these women can only send their own children off to school through a shaky Skype connection.

The film is very much about trying to find dignity in a series of indignities, and the strength that these women have to have in order to find a way to live their lives in Hong Kong and raise their families back home.

32 Pills: My Sister’s Suicide

This film follows Hope Litoff as she struggles to make sense of her sister’s suicide by going through her possessions many years later. What begins as a project that is presumably meant to allow Hope to finally come to term with why her sister Ruth committed suicide slowly spirals out of control as Hope becomes consumed with reliving Ruth’s life.

It’s at this point that the documentary turns its lens on the documentarian, and Hope becomes the subject of the film. We see her obsession with her sister made manifest through the ways she handles her sister’s possessions, culminating with a scene where she papers the walls of a room with the pages of her sister’s day planner. More frighteningly, we see the psychological toll the project takes on her as she dives deeper into her sister’s life, resulting in a scene in which she films herself breaking her many years of sobriety with a shot of vodka.

While this project may have started as a documentary about Ruth Litoff and her troubled life, it quickly evolves into a film about processing grief and how one must learn how to let go of a loved one let it destroy your life. Thankfully, Hope learns this lesson, as she checks into rehab and ends the film by honoring her sister’s memory with an exhibition of her photography at Bellevue Hospital.

Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked The World

The festival ended with a free screening of the Canadian audience award winner, which turned out to be a crowd pleasing film about the influence of Native musicians on the American Rock music. The film starts with Link Wray, going through the many sounds that Native musicians introduced to Rock, and how many early musicians had to hide or deny their Native heritage due to the institutionalized racism of the time. We get to see many other musicians, including Jimi Hendrix and the influence that his grandmother had on his music and the way he presented himself on stage, and Randy Castillo, suggesting that his heavy metal drumming was inspired by his childhood experiences.

There’s not much to say about the film itself. It’s a documentary that serves to educate audiences about an aspect of music history that is ignored, doing so in quite an entertaining manner. The directors suggested that they had hours of footage that they cut for time that they could use, and I could certainly see this film expanded with a sequel or through a television series.

There were many films that I wish I could have seen, but Netflix picked up a couple of them which saved me a trip to the cinema — Chasing Coral and Joshua — and I’m looking forward to watching them when they’re available.

#hotdocs #documentary #film #review #film review #2017

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