#which is adorable but its from a garfunkel and oates song. and i feel like thats self explanatory

[yellowocaballero]

You And Me (And Your Friend Daisy)

Thanks for pushing me to finish this, Anon! This is a short, fun, and romantic story written in the verse of my other fics Bell, Book, and Candle and No Sin But Ignorance. Takes place some time post the ending of No Sin But Ignorance. That being said, this is probably very comprehensible without knowledge of those fics, so feel free to just view it as a no-apocalypse au. The majority of this was written while writing Feste - more accurately, when I needed a break from the crushing depression of Feste, so that’s why it’s so cheerful. :)

Yes, it’s named after that Garfunkel and Oates song, because that’s the plot. 

The rest of the story is under the cut!

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

“Are you going to tell me where we are?”

“You have to guess! And no peeking!”

Jon sighed, slouching in his seat. He hated surprise vacations. He hated being forced to leave work and ‘take a break’ because ‘you’re contractually obligated to use your PTO hours’. And he did take vacations, he didn’t know why everybody acted like he didn’t. He and Georgie took Gerry to Blackpool once a year for Spring Break. That was a whole week off. That was enough for anybody. 

But Martin had been pointedly sending him emails about ‘fun couple’s trips’ and ‘romantic getaways’ in an ultra-subtle act of subliminal messaging. Indeed, the three emailed promotional advertisements listing off fun, relaxing, and romantic things to do with your significant other were so subtle that Emma was forced to listen in on the automated JAWS voice reading them out and then call him a ‘fucking idiot’. 

Whatever. It wasn’t as if Gertrude took any vacations, and nobody got on her back for it. Jon was willing to bet that Dekker never sent Gertrude any passive aggressive emails. He would have to ask him later - they got boba together once a month, he was an excellent conversational partner. He was, of course, slightly insane, both for his fervent adherence to the ancient religions and willingness to come within five feet of Gertrude Robinson for personal reasons, but all the best supernatural hunters were. 

“Well, we’ve clearly been driving north for the past eight hours, judging from the angle of the sun,” Jon said, annoyed. The car radio was playing the Archers in a dull drone, which Jon had insisted upon, because he and Daisy never missed an episode. This confused and frightened Martin. A bag rustled, and Jon knew that Martin was fishing around in the plastic convenience store sack for more Jaffa cakes. “Combined with the time, that can only mean that we’re going to Scotland. I don’t have any close friends in Scotland and I’m willing to be you don’t either -”

“Hey!”

“ - so unless you assigned yourself the task of following up on the Scottish Slaughter Statement without me assigning it to you, and deciding to bring me along, I’m guessing that we’re going to stay in a hotel and do...touristy things.”

“Wrong again,” Martin said triumphantly. He liked keeping track of every time Jon was innocently incorrect about something, just to prove it to everyone else. “I mean, yes, we are in Scotland, you’re right about that, but we are not staying in a hotel. We’re staying in the country.”

“Darling, I would love to sit on the Scottish Moors and stare out into the endless, unceasing fog with you in complete silence,” Jon said lovingly, “but I thought you wanted to do something romantic.”

“That’s not romantic?” Martin gasped, horrified. “Have you even read Wuthering Heights?”

“You and Gerry are two peas in a goth pod.”

“He’s goth, I’m gothic. There’s a difference. And don’t tell me that you don’t enjoy gothic literature - you’re literally a Byronic hero.”

“Oh, here we go,” Jon sighed, as the car bumped over a speed bump. He hadn’t heard another car for hours now, and he knew that they had to be in the middle of nowhere. The weather had grown colder, more humid, and occasionally he could hear the bleat of cows. It was...calming. 

Then Martin started listing off the very many reasons why Jon was a classical Byronic hero, then Jon had to remind him that none of that stuff had technically happened, then Martin began insisting that it happened in their hearts, then Jon got deeply engrossed into today’s episode of the Archers and felt the need to inform Martin about its illustrious and aged history, which prompted Martin to put on Hatsune Miku when the episode was over and indoctrinate Jon into whatever ‘Vocaloid’ was, and by the time the car transitioned to skittering over bumpy gravel they were both entering a heated discussion about the most superior of the ‘Vocaloids’. 

“ - and she created Minecraft?”

“And she’s trans,” Martin said heatedly. 

“Good for her,” Jon said, just bemused. The car engine quieted, and keys clinked and rustled. “Are we here?”

“Yep! Seven hours later.” Martin sighed and made a quiet, satisfied noise, probably stretching, and Jon didn’t bother to fight his smile. Man was like a cat. “I want to show you around and everything, but honestly that drive was exhausting and I might take a nap first.” He sighed happily. “Peace. Quiet. No coworkers.”

“I’m your coworker,” Jon pointed out, opening the door of the car as Martin did the same. He stepped onto gravel, grinding his trainer a little into it, and breathed in. The air tasted...fresh. Clean. Pure and just a little chilly. It was nice. It perked Jon up, as the wind lightly tousled his curls. He stretched his legs too, cramped from being knitted up in the small car. Martin popped the boot and started loading packages into his arms, and Jon walked over and held his arms out so he could help Martin carry the packages. Martin dropped a picnic basket filled with snacks in his arms, and handed him his own suitcase, as Martin dropped his own suitcase on the ground with a heavy thump. “How does a teenage girl create a video game? That’s very impressive.”

“This week you are my boyfriend,” Martin corrected him, thumping the boot down. “No Emma getting on my case about misfiling the papers. No Michael concern trolling me. No Eric judging me for my taste in tea. No Gertrude terrifying me every second of the day. I am free. I am not going to think about work, or anybody related to work, for a single second. No Entities. No fear demons. No monsters, besides my boyfriend.”

“Thanks,” Jon said wryly. “Aren’t we forgetting someone?”

“Oh, darn it!” Martin opened the back door of the car, and pulled out a carrier. The wire door of the carrier cinched open and Tiresias came bounding out, barking madly and running in little circles around Jon, his tail beating against Jon’s leg. Jon laughed, lifting his burden higher in his arms, and let Martin loop his arm around Jon’s and guide him towards what he had to assume was some kind of building. “C’mere, boy. Good boy! You were so good for the trip! You’re getting a hundred snacks as soon we get inside.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are yet?” Jon asked, exasperated. 

Martin squeezed his arm happily as they walked up an incline, shoes scuffing dirt. “I got permission from Daisy to borrow it. It’s her cabin, just outside of Applecross. It’s really in the middle of nowhere, nobody around for kilometers. Just us and a great deal of cows. It’s really gorgeous, Jon, with such clean air and beautiful hills. I can’t wait to go for walks with you. You’ll get so much time to go through your audiobook collection. And we can snuggle, and I can cook for you, and we can listen to more radio dramas, and we can talk about our future, and you can pet the cows…”

“Sounds wonderful,” Jon said honestly, squeezing Martin’s arm back. They paused, Martin rustling his keys again, and Jon heard the grinding of metal before a door seemed to creak open. “I can’t wait to spend this week with you. I could use a little peace, I think.”

“Gods, me too. You have no idea how stressed I’ve been. It’ll be just you, me, and -”

That’s when Martin screamed, and Tiresias barked excitedly and ran forward, almost bowling Jon over, and a familiar voice broke the quiet of the rustic cabin. 

“Aren’t you a good boy, Tiresias? Aren’t you a good boy?” Daisy Tonner’s grin was audible through her words, but it held a familiar tint of ferociousness. “Hullo, Jon. Blackwood. What are you doing here a week early?”

“Early!” Martin squeaked. “I said we were coming up the first week of September -”

“Really?” Daisy said, voice casual. Seemingly. “Because I have it down in my calendar as the second week. This is my vacation. And I’m not leaving.”

Silence stretched between them. Jon smiled happily towards the sound of Daisy’s voice, placing his burdens at his feet, and soon Daisy walked forward and enveloped him in a bone cracking hug. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Jon said, hugging her tightly back too. “I’m sure we can share the cabin for the week. It’ll be fun, like a sleepover!”

“Oh, I think so too,” Daisy said, her voice tinged in a wolf’s grin. “Don’t you think so, Martin?”

“Good fucking christ,” Martin said. 

****

True to his word, Martin was exhausted enough that he immediately made the bed and collapsed into it. Jon lovingly took off his shoes and socks and Tiresias even, adorably, pulled the comforter up around Martin’s ears. But Martin didn’t sleep: he seemed preoccupied in angrily muttering to himself about how he didn’t get the time wrong, she did, this was all her fault, and it was also completely on purpose, devil woman, everybody was trying to ruin everything - 

“Love, if I ask her to go, she’ll go,” Jon said. 

“No! Ugh!” Martin screamed lowly, muffled, and Jon realized with amusement he was screaming into the pillow. “It’s her house, she’s doing us a favor, I don’t want to be rude! I can’t kick her out of her own home!”

“Are you going to be passive aggressive at her until she leaves?”

Incriminatingly, Martin was silent. 

“She’s more stubborn than you are. If you try to solve this with your usual methods she’ll outlast you.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“Don’t say that,” Jon said loyally. “She’s really come around to you, you know. She hasn’t threatened to chop your dick off in - oh, two weeks now. That’s a new record.”

Martin groaned again. Jon kissed him on the cheek, turned the light off - “Jon, you just turned the light on.” - turned the light off for real this time, and went into the living room/dining room/kitchen to start putting away all the food they had brought. He bent over his suitcase, withdrawing Tiresias’ harness, and whistled to call him over before snapping the harness on. Tiresias stiffened into what Georgie called ‘Buisness Boy Mode’, and Jon grabbed his handle with one hand as he loaded the groceries into the other. 

“Here, let me help.” Daisy lifted the other load from the floor, leading the both of them into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “I know Georgie’s organizational system.”

Jon just sighed, slowly navigating his way to the fridge to put his own load away. They had clothing to unpack, things to set up, and arrangements to plan, but Jon had the sense that none of it was getting done immediately. 

“What were your plans for this week?”

“I normally go up here to hunt,” Daisy grunted, sliding cans into the cabinet. At Jon’s raised eyebrow, she clarified, “with guns. They’re all locked up in the gun cabinet, as is my ammo and knives. Neither you nor Martin have the keys, but the cabinet is in a closet near the bathroom. That should be locked too.”

“Goodness, Daisy, I’m not an errant toddler. I won’t play with your collection.”

“You’re my errant toddler,” Daisy said loyally, giving him a noogie and making him scowl. “Say it. Say you’re an errant toddler.”

“Goodness, Daisy, leave me be -”

Then she lifted him up, like he was nothing more than a bundle of sticks, and held him in the air as he screamed and kicked his legs, trying to get down. Tiresias, the Traitor, the Serpent, the King of Lies, barked happily. “Let me down! Daisy!”

“Say you’re an errant toddler and I’ll let you down.”

“I shan’t. Daisy, stop -!” But then she started tickling him, which was extremely dangerous, and Jon was forced to cackle out in breathless laughter, “Fine, I’m a toddler, let me down, you crazy woman!”

She tossed him lightly onto the pull-out couch, putting away the rest of the groceries herself, and Jon let Tiresias sit on top of him and lick his face as he could almost audibly hear Martin pouting in the bedroom. 

“This’ll be fun,” Daisy said, shutting the cabinet and rustling some familiar boxes. “Can’t believe Tim paid me fifty quid to do this. I would have done it for free.”

“Do what?”

“Never mind. I have your copy of Life, do you want to play?”

“Sure!” Jon sat up, feeling Daisy sit down next to him and set out the game pieces. Then something occurred to him. “Wait. What are you doing with my copy of Life?”

“Georgie lent it to me.”

“...why did Georgie -”

“I was going to leave it here for when you came up,” Daisy said easily, and Jon nodded in acceptance. “Spin the spinner to see whose turn comes first.”

Jon considered thinking deeper about this, but Daisy wouldn’t lie to him. She was the most trustworthy person he knew. She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. He shrugged and reached forward and found the spinner, giving it a good twist before rubbing his thumb over the braille. Something occurred to him. 

“Maybe we can ask Martin if he wants to join -”

“I’m sure he would prefer his rest.”

“Okay!”

This vacation was going to go great. Why had Jon been worried?

****

That night they had a delicious barbecue outside, cooked by Daisy. Martin ate it in angry silence, which was quickly broken by Jon’s frequent nudges and directions for conversation. He wasn’t the most socially adept person at the best of times, but Martin and Daisy were two of his best friends and he knew how to get the both of them talking. He was even able to draw them into a spirited conversation about 19th century literature - Daisy preferred Russian novels, while Martin preferred Gothic romances and Hugo and Jon tended towards nonfiction. Afterwards Daisy grabbed her gun, kissed Jon on the cheek, did something that made Martin squeak in fear, and tramped off to go hunt deer or something. Jon waved her off with a blessing, his sixth sense thrumming with satisfaction for the Sacrifice. 

He spent the night cuddled up with Martin, watching Beauty and the Beast on his laptop. Martin was obsessed with Disney movies in a way that explained a great deal about him, and Beauty and the Beast was his absolute favorite. Jon ran his fingers through his soft and feathery hair as Martin squeezed his hand, and Jon’s heart settled in complete contentment. The audio description voice droned gently about the heartwarming falling in love montages, but Jon wasn’t really paying attention: he just felt safe, and warm, and as if he wanted the moment to last forever. 

Then his mobile rang, a clear automated voice saying “Gerard calling. Gerard calling.”

“Oh, I should get that.” Jon straightened, throwing out a hand on the coffee table where he thought he had put his phone, and Martin pressed it into his hand. He accepted the call quickly, putting it on speaker and holding it up to his ear just like, he was reliably assured, ‘an old man’. “Hello, honey?”

“Jon!” Gerry yelled. “Did you get the cabin okay?”

“Oh, so everyone knew but me,” Jon said, amused. “You’re on speaker, Gerry, so say hello to Mr. Blackwood.”

“Hi Martin! Are you guys having a good time? You have to take me next time, I want to see Daisy’s guns!”

“You will not see Daisy’s guns,” Jon said quickly. 

“Hi Gerry,” Martin said, a smile clear in his somewhat strained voice. “Sure, you and Georgie should come up next time. Make it a party. Why not.”

“Told you she’d do it,” Georgie said, and Jon perked up. “Hullo, love. How’s your romantic getaway going?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Jon said, excited. “We’re going to walk down to the town tomorrow, check out some of their antique stores. I’ll let you know if we find any interesting art.”

“I’ve been up to Daisy’s cabin a few times with Melanie, it’s delightful. Great place for her to hunt and for me to practice my carrion photography. It’s always nice just to get away from it all! I hope you haven’t touched any work, Jon.”

“I haven’t,” Jon said loyally. He paused a beat. “Do Statements count? Because I was planning on listening to a few recorded ones as a sort of bedtime story?”

“That’s just self-care,” Georgie assured him. “Treat yourself, queen.”

“Thanks, honey. Make sure Gerry gets his homework done? Do you need any help? I have some time now -”

“I got it,” Georgie said, laughing slightly. “I can still help a fifteen year old with his English. I’ll make sure he brushes his teeth too. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Have a good time, Dad!” Gerry called, the affectionate nickname making Jon smile. “Bring me back a cow!” Slightly more muffled, Jon heard him say to Georgie, “Mum, when Jon goes on a romantic getaway, what do you think they -”

“Night, honey! Night, Martin! Love you!” Georgie called loudly.

Jon laughed, unable to stop himself from waving a little, as if they were there. “Night, you two. Love you too. Stay safe.”

“We will! Bye!”

The line clicked off, and Martin’s arm stretched across Jon’s shoulders squeezed a little tighter. Jon extended a foot and clicked the space bar on the computer, starting up the movie again. 

“You’d make a really good dad,” Martin said, almost to himself. 

Jon settled back against Martin, leaning his head against his shoulder. “I feel like one already, honestly. Obviously, I have far more experience with teenagers than babies, but they can’t be that hard. If I don’t drop them…why?”

Martin coughed a little, abruptly flustered. “No reason! No reason.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Can’t exactly have them biologically,” Martin muttered, before sighing. “Yeah, I’d love to...foster or adopt or something. I’ve had my - differences - with my parents, but I’m still glad they adopted me, you know? I’d like to pass that on. But...better. Much better.”

“Georgie is talking about fostering again once Gerard moves in with Eric,” Jon said quietly. The thought of Gerry moving out, of living full time with Eric again - it just seemed weird. Almost wrong, although it wasn’t - Eric adored Gerry, and he was a competent father. It was just that...well, technically, Gerry had been living with them since the beginning of the universe. On a purely literal level, they really had always had Gerry with them. It would be strange. “As a - recipient of the foster care system myself, I’d like to make a difference too.” He smiled thinly. “We’re very compatible, aren’t we?”

“Would it be...you and Georgie…?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Martin sighed a little. “Is it dumb that sometimes it feels like you already have a family built in?”

Hm. Jon hadn’t quite thought about it that way. “You know those jokes about me and Georgie being married are just jokes,” Jon said reproachfully. 

Martin moved away a little, leaning forward, slipping his arm from Jon’s shoulder. He abruptly missed the warmth. “But you’re partners. You’re raising a kid. And I know Daisy and Tim think of themselves as your overprotective big siblings, they aren’t even wrong.”

“Many people have siblings? And friends? Some even have kids, I’ve heard.”

“I don’t.” There was really nothing for Jon to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. “I don’t want my entire social circle to just be through you…”

“It won’t be,” Jon said firmly, reaching out a hand and brushing it against Martin’s arm. He squeezed it firmly. “You don’t have to be Lonely anymore, Martin. I won’t let you.”

“Is that a promise?” Martin said, as if he was joking, as if Jon wasn’t certain that he wasn’t. As if he needed the reassurance. 

“How can you be lonely when I’m here?” Jon said, and trailed his hand up along Martin’s arm until he reached his neck and he could cup his face. He rubbed a thumb against his wispy stubble, light and thin. “I’m right here.”

Martin kissed him, and then the movie was quite thoroughly forgotten as Jon necked with his boyfriend on the couch like a teenager. They forgot everything, and for a small period of glorious time Jon forgot everything that he knew, in all of its entirety, and his Eye saw only the here and now. 

Then the door thumped open, the wind blew into the cabin, and heavy footsteps thumped into the room. Something dragged behind the footsteps, something that sounded a bit...wet. 

Martin, who was thoroughly on top of Jon and almost done unbuttoning his shirt, froze. Jon just craned his head, trying to hear the sounds of what was likely a dead deer being pulled in through the entrance way better. 

“Hello Daisy!” Jon said, still pinned down. “How was your hunting?”

“Lucrative. We’re eating venison tomorrow.”

“Great! Need any help getting that put away?”

“No, I’m good.” Tiresias barked happily. “Here, boy, you can have a little. Good boy. I’ll probably skin and clean it outside, I just wanted to get my gloves.”

“Take your time!”

Martin sighed and got off Jon, straightening his own clothing. “Yeah, Daisy, take your time.”

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Daisy said blithely. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re fine,” Jon assured her, fixing his own hair from where it had grown tangled. “Want to finish this movie with us?”

“Sure, let me gut this animal first.”

“Great! Scooch over, Martin.”

“You know,” Martin said, “maybe we want to move to the bedroom?”

“If we stay in the living room I can hook up your laptop to the television and we can watch the movie that way,” Daisy said innocently. 

“That sounds good,” Jon agreed. He patted Martin’s hand. “Is that alright with you?”

Martin sighed. “Yeah. Of course.”

That night, Jon curled up next to Martin on the creaky wooden bed, listening to the flies buzz around them and the crickets hiss their lilting song outdoors. 

His earbuds were still nestled in his ears, the soft hum of his Walkman cutting the quiet night, his own pre-recorded voice reading out a story. Martin sat next to him, and occasionally Jon could hear the soft shift of the pages of a book turning. Every so often Martin would gasp, or make a little noise at some exciting event in his book. 

Jon rolled over, throwing out an arm and pulling Martin in close, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder as he let the earbuds roll gently out of his ears. Martin was soft and warm, the cotton of his t-shirt rubbing up against Jon’s cheek, and Jon let his mind gently bliss out and drift away. 

He thought about the breakfast he wanted to make the next morning, and of the soft beat of Scottish sun on his face. He thought about the creak of cobblestones as jumped-up jalopies rolled over them, and of the shifting and groan of old wood. He thought of the bright, sharp summer smell of the highlands, and the sinking and sticky marshland. 

“We should visit the antique store in town tomorrow,” Jon murmured. “Georgie’s been looking for a new lamp, and I think they should have a nice Rococo one for cheap.”

“Oh? Maybe I can pick something up too.” Martin gently scratched Jon’s scalp, making him bliss out even further. “Nice of you to always loop us in on the best deals, you little shopping catalogue.”

They, of course, had not been to the town yet, and there was no reason for Jon to know of the antique store, or the Rococo lamp. Jon hadn’t even thought about it, the information as available and easy as the layout of the convenience store down the street and a left turn from his childhood council flat. 

Martin’s voice broke the quiet, cutting through the buzz of insects. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know everything,” Jon yawned, snuggling into Martin’s side closer. 

“Not what I meant.” Martin hesitated, almost awkwardly. “You’re a literal mind reader and everything, but I’m not, so…”

“Oh, Martin.” Jon reached a hand up and cupped Martin’s cheek. “I built this world from the bedrock of my love for you.”

“Uh - wow! That’s - it’s kind of weird how you can just say that and have it be true!”

“Our lives are weird,” Jon agreed, brushing his thumb over Martin’s lips, and he carefully leaned his head up to kiss him, and they passed the long silent minutes just like that. 

Several hours later, Jon found himself jerking awake. Martin was snoring beside him, and he couldn’t feel any sun on his face, so Jon figured it was likely still nighttime. He carefully slipped out of bed, reaching out a hand and trailing it along the wall until he managed to leave the bedroom, navigate down the hall, and enter what he was fairly sure was the living room. 

“Jon?” A voice broke the night. Daisy, who had taken the pull-out couch. “You looking for the loo?”

It was only then that Jon realized that he didn’t know why he had gotten up. Tiresias snored loudly in the kitchen, adding a subtle undertone to the noise from outside, and Jon found himself shrugging helplessly. “I don’t think so. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah. Hold tight, I’ll help you to the couch.” Sure enough, after the almost silent footsteps echoed through the main room Jon felt a soft hand on his back, and she led him towards the couch. Jon lightly kicked it, testing its height, and gently lowered himself onto it, the springs of the pull-out bed breaking through the night. “What has you up?”

Jon just shrugged again. The bed creaked beside him, and he felt calloused fingers carding through his hair with gentleness that would have been surprising to most people. 

“Am I a bad boyfriend?” Jon asked, surprising himself. He hadn’t even known he was thinking that. 

“Did Blackwood tell you that you were?” Daisy asked sharply. 

“No! No, not at all.” Jon sighed. “I just...I just have different needs than him.” He could already tell what Daisy was thinking, and he shook his head. “Not about the - the you know what thing. I just...I know how much he loves me. I know what he thinks of me, I know his dedication to me. Sometimes I just assume that he’s - capable, of what I’m capable of. Do I not tell him I love him enough? Am I not affectionate enough?”

“You aren’t as perceptive as you think you are, Jon,” Daisy said, amused. “I think you’ll find that Blackwood has quite a few more secrets than you think he does.” She untangled her fingers from his hair and squeezed his arm. “Blackwood’s insecure. All insecure people want mindreader boyfriends. But you force him to use his words and ask for what he needs, Jon. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s good for him. He needs to learn to speak up for himself.” She hummed slightly. “He reminds me of Basira, a little. She’ll never tell you that you bothered her, and she just lets it pile up and up. But then you go just a little too far, and then she explodes all of that pent up anger and frustration on you. She likes to pretend she’s a real robot, but she’s just as human as the rest of them.”

“I’m so terrified of Basira,” Jon said miserably. “Remember when I dropped a plate and she told me that the reason why my gran didn’t love me was because I was an attention seeking nine year old?”

“She’s so mean. I love her so much.” Daisy patted Jon on the back. “Buck up. I’m working on Blackwood. You focus on enjoying your vacation.”

Jon let himself lean to the side, resting his head on Daisy’s shoulder. “I’m worried that Martin will realize that I’m not capable of expressing romantic affection in a socially typical manner and leave me.”

“God, shut up, whiner.” But the bed creaked and Daisy’s head gently slid out from under his shoulder, and Daisy gently helped Jon to his feet. “I’ll get you back to bed. Bitch about your imaginary relationship problems to me in the morning.”

Translated: I love you, I’ll always be here for you, and goodnight. Jon huffed a quiet laugh. “Aren’t the lights off? How can you see anything?”

When Daisy spoke again, a quiet bass growl echoed underneath her words, and Jon grinned with her. He Knew, like how he Knew that he loved Martin enough to destroy the world, that Daisy’s eyes were flickering yellow in the darkness. “Don’t be fooled by appearances, Jon.”

She helped him back to bed, and when Jon slept through the rest of the night he dreamed of nothing but Martin’s weight on his. 

****

“What a beautiful morning!” Martin said loudly. “The birds are chirping, the Scottish highlands are beautiful, I am here on my romantic vacation away from everybody with only my lovely boyfriend for company - and Daisy Tonner!”

“Glad to be here,” Daisy said affably. 

“This is so much fun!” Martin said, still loudly.

“I think so too!” Jon said enthusiastically.

Tiresias barked. 

After a breakfast pointedly prepared by Martin, they all got dressed and saddled up to go walk into the village. It was a quick walk, only about twenty minutes, and Martin and Daisy enjoyed the scenery as Jon enjoyed the warm grip of Martin’s hand in his and the breeze on his face. 

When the trail began sloping further downhill, and their footsteps began to slide against the incline, Jon pulled what Gerry would have called a ‘pro-gamer move’ and moved his grip up until he was clinging to Martin’s arm. Martin sprayed a hand out, resting it against Jon’s back, and helped him down the trail. 

“Whoah! You alright, honey? Careful of your step!”

“Jesus christ,” Daisy muttered. 

“It’s hardly Jon’s fault -” Martin began heatedly. 

“Yeah, Daisy,” Jon said, delighting in setting them against each other like the cold, uncaring god he was, “check your privilege.”

Then they were off, because despite Daisy was allergic to social consciousness, and Jon whistled a jaunty tune, composed in the 15th century and unknown to all but its lonely shepherd creator, as they navigated their way downwards. 

The village was small, nothing more than two streets with cheerful wooden facades and swing porches set out on the decks with wizened elderly people sipping from bottles of Irn Bru and smoking down cigarettes to the dregs. At least, as narrated by Martin, who seemed to already be mentally writing his small-town murder mystery in the Scottish highlands (Martin’s poetry needed work, but his fiction held a certain massmarket appeal). Knowing Martin, the protaganist would likely be either a grandmother with his own personality, or a thirtysomething gay man who had twelve counts of arson on his record and was running from the cops. 

Wait. Wait, Jon should use his words. Ask instead of look. Display interest in Martin’s inner life - which, granted, seemed to be a waste of time when Jon could just Know and not waste his breath, but Georgie had been coaching him in this. 

“You should give the ex-con narrator a boyfriend,” Jon said supportively. “Maybe bring back the gay bar owner from the last book?”

Martin almost tripped over the gravel. “How did you know I was thinking of - Jon, I told you not to read my mind!”

“Lay off, you know he doesn’t do it on purpose,” Daisy said uninterestedly, growling at what Jon guessed were passerby on the street. 

“Daisy, stop telling me how to talk to my boyfriend -”

“Oh, he’s your boyfriend now, is he?”

“Yes! Yes, he is!”

“Let’s get some ice cream!” Jon said loudly. 

“How did you even know there was an ice cream - fine! Fine, of course!” Martin sighed loudly. “Why not!”

As it turned out, they were right in front of ice cream. Jon loved it when things worked out. 

****

Twenty minutes later, after Martin laboriously reading out all of the entirely too many flavors to Jon, Daisy growling at everybody at the store like an errant dog, fighting with the owner of the store extremely politely about his actual dog existing, and finally taking their ice cream outside to sit at a picnic bench and attack their waffle cones, Jon felt content. 

He indicated this by telling everybody everything he knew about emulsifiers, which were extremely neat and a lot of fun! Because nobody was stopping him talking by saying ‘let’s talk about something else, Jon’ or ‘isn’t that a bit boring, Jon?’ he moved onto the history of waffle cones, safe in his assumption that everybody was as interested in the topic as he was. 

“I love you so much,” Martin said, somewhat dazed, when Jon stopped to draw a breath. “Did you know that this is the second time this has happened?”

That stopped Jon short, when nothing else did. “Really? Has it?”

Martin’s spoon scraped his small paper bowl. “Yep. Uh - for my birthday, I think. Me, Tim, and - and Sasha, and you. You ordered rum raisin. I was thinking...did you actually like rum raisin? Or did you just panic?” He laughed, somewhat self-consciously. “You didn’t remember about it even before the whole apocalypse thing, so no sweat, but…”

“Oh.” Jon realized, for probably the fifth time, that Martin held years and years worth of memories in him, and that Jon had only fragments and impressions. He knew that he had everything important, that everything he needed was within him, but - did he? What if he was missing the key to everything, the key to Martin, and all he needed was to just Look deeper? “That’s - I could remember it, if I wanted.”

“It’s fine, Jon,” Daisy said quietly. “Don’t go giving yourself a migraine.”

“I could,” Jon insisted. “I’d like to remember something like your birthday, Martin. Precious memories, or - or something. Give me a moment, I can send a quick prayer, and -”

“You know,” Martin said, and he squeezed Jon’s hand. “I’d rather make new memories right now. Where we are right now, that’s - that’s the most important place, innit?”

Jon smiled at him, and he knew, in the most mundane of ways, Martin was smiling back. “I like to think so too.”

“Ugh,” Daisy teased, although perhaps to an outsider it may have sounded mean, “get that sappy shit outta my face.”

“You’re just as bad with Basira,” Jon shot back, smiling. “You two are in love -”

“Take that shit back,” Daisy hissed. 

“You want to get married -”

“Who told you!”

Jon tapped the lens of his glasses smugly. “A little Eye told me.”

“Beholding cuck.”

“No, that’s Peter -”

“Martin would know all about Peter, huh?” Daisy sneered, and the pressure on Jon’s hand intensified for a brief second before it withdrew completely, leaving his hand cold and empty.

“Jon, can you give me and Daisy a few minutes of privacy, please?” Martin said pleasantly. 

Jon raised an eyebrow, licking the ice cream dripping down his hand. It was Vast flavor. Tasted like...ozone. “Why?”

“He doesn’t know the area, you can’t send him off alone,” Daisy shot back, strangely smugly. “Come on, Blackwood. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it in front of him.”

“You know what, fine. Fine!” Martin thumped the table, making Jon start and Tireasias stiffen. “I have done nothing that warrants this kind of treatment from you. You are disrespecting me, disrespecting my relationship, and you are insulting my fucking intelligence. I appreciate you loaning us your cabin, but if I knew that it would come with strings attached then I would have paid for my own bloody hotel! Why are you doing this!”

“Tim gave me fifty quid,” Daisy said, like the wolf that had caught the canary. “Plus it’s fucking funny.”

“Done what?” Jon asked, confused. 

“I want you out of my vacation, Daisy,” Martin hissed. “If you won’t leave the cabin, then I am booking my own Air BnB and that’s fucking final! I don’t care if I have to - to fight you in the street about it, I can and I will, you don’t want to mess with me -”

“Sure.”

Martin stopped short. Jon licked his ice cream, fascinated by the drama. “What?”

“I said sure,” Daisy enunciated clearly. “I was waiting for you to fucking say it. I told Basira I’d be home by tonight, anyway. Knew you’d snap.”

“I - what! What! What?!”

“You’re a pushover, Blackwood,” Daisy said. “Your coworkers, your friends, everyone - they just walk all over you. It’s fucking stupid. You are the archival assistant who survived the apocalypse with memories and sanity intact. You lasted longer on the position than anyone since Emma Harvey, and you didn’t have to lose your soul to do it. You looked Elias in the face as you burned his Archives down. You’re not a pussy. And I was sick of seeing you act like one. It’s fucking annoying.”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Martin whispered, somewhat in shock. 

“Well, I hate seeing my best friend date a passive aggressive loser, so we’re both unhappy.” Daisy stood up, feet shuffling against the cement, and Jon felt her press a kiss against his forehead. “You two have a nice day out. I’m going to go hunt things, and head back to London. Take care of yourself, Jon. And cut out the PDA, it’s gross.”

Suddenly, violently, with a crushing realization, the entire vacation was recontextualized. 

“I don’t appreciate any of this,” Jon said crossly, scowling in her direction. “Honestly, Daisy, you don’t -”

“Blame Tim. Love you, Jon. Love you, sweet puppy. See you later, Blackwood.”

Jon and Martin sat in silence as the sound of footsteps receded from Jon’s hearing, and the low murmur of the small village set in around them. Martin still seemed to slightly be in shock, his ice cream slowly melting, and Tiresias yawned sleepily in the sun. 

“I hate her so fucking much,” Martin whispered. 

But Jon just smiled, and reached out to brush a thumb over Martin’s close-cropped hair. He leaned in, whispering into Martin’s ear. “Hearing you yell at the scariest woman I know who isn’t Gertrude Robinson was pretty fucking sexy, love.”

“I hate her so - wait, it was? Really?” Martin coughed awkwardly. “Well, she really had it coming, and it’s not a huge deal, and I know she’s your best friend and I should be nice to her, but -”

“ - but she was right,” Jon said firmly. “An arse about making her point, but she was right. I’m working on using my words. You should too. All of the books say communication is key in a relationship. So let’s communicate, alright?” He faltered a little, uncertain if Daisy would want him to say this. “And - and it was obvious, from what she said, that Daisy respects you. It’s a very difficult thing, to win Daisy’s respect. I think she was trying to help us, in her own - unorthodox manner.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“It was very sexy,” Jon hinted. 

Martin leaned in and kissed Jon lightly, and Jon could feel his smile against his own. “How about we finish our food,” he said quietly, “walk around town for a bit, buy some souvenirs for your family, and then go back to the cabin and snog and cuddle for a very long time? If that’s okay with you?”

“I’d like nothing more,” Jon said. 

And he was right. It was messy, and weird, and painfully uncomfortable.

 It was perfect.

[xkaylinh]

Concert Diary: Mitski at the Wiltern on November 7, 2018

As I was waiting in line to get in, I thought, maybe I’m experiencing a bit of concert going fatigue. Not fatigue from the concerts themselves, but fatigue from going to concerts. The paying for parking and then parking at the Metro station, taking the Metro subway, finding a place to pee, walking around exploring, finding and walking to a restaurant, walking to the venue, waiting to get in, waiting for the show to start, waiting in between acts, all the standing in large crowds. This was the me time that I longed for, yet I found myself oftentimes irritatedly looking at the clock on my phone every few minutes when I’d run out of things to look at on my social media feeds.

Having explored the area on my previous two trips to the Wiltern, I was feeling very lazy, so I left home a little later than usual, leaving just enough time to eat before getting in line. I decided on a sushi bar just across the street from the venue. It was reasonably priced for Japanese food, and therefore a bit more expensive than my usual pre-show meals. I’d arrived during their happy hour, but I don’t drink, so. The food was good. It was not lost on me that I had Japanese food before seeing Mitski, who is Japanese American.

I feel like waiting outside the Wiltern I’m more likely to encounter solicitors. There was one woman asking for donations to feed the poor and handing out peace-sign stickers. I lied and said I had no cash on me, then wondered if that made me a bad person. At least this time there were no old Asian men holding up signs and blasting bible verses from their speakers. There were a few hot dog vendors around, the ones you’d often see outside the LA Convention Center during Anime Expo.

This wasn’t my first time at the Wiltern, but since it’s my first post about it, I’ll just explain briefly what I like about the place. The standing floor has levels, so if you’re not too enthused about getting one of the few wristbands to get into the pit, you can stand a bit further back and a bit higher up, or even more further back and even more higher up, which is good for seeing over people’s heads. The walls and ceiling are beautifully decorated with colorful and intricate carvings. Mitski herself mentioned, “someone is behind that, someone did that,” so we should take a moment to look at our surroundings after the show.

I’d initially stood at my usual spot, the wall at the first level from the pit, but then I thought, it’s Mitski!, so I got myself a green wristband to replace my white one and made my way into the pit. There was only one row of people between me and the stage. I was a bit to the left of center, and there was this tall guy in front and to the left of me, and a floor speaker front and center of the stage, which somewhat blocked my view of the right side of the stage, but it wasn’t as bad as some other shows where I had to peep between the heads of two tall dudes the entire time.

The openers, The Overcoats, were a pair of women in, um, overcoats. They harmonized with each other not unlike Garfunkel and Oates. One would occasionally play a riff or two on her guitar, while the other would hit some notes on the keys, but usually they were dancing, with minimal choreography. They were even flossing at one point, which was beyond adorable. For me, the highlight of their set, however, was their drummer in the back, who used a mixture of acoustic drums and an electric drum pad. I’m not too into electro-pop at the moment, so I don’t really see myself returning to their music any time soon, but seeing her play those beats live was really something else. For the last song, they had a couple of wind instrumentalists come up to join them, which was quite special and unexpected.

This was my second time seeing Mitski, but it was a very different experience. For one thing, she’s not playing an instrument like she usually does. Instead, the entire set is a performance art piece with choreography throughout each song; sometimes certain movements are repeated from one song to another. Usually, like when Michelle Zauner of Japanese Breakfast does it, you’d expect that when the lead singer drops their instrument, it leads to a more intimate experience, the singer interacting with the audience and walking back and forth randomly on the stage. Here, though, the opposite is true: through the perfect choreography, Mitski effectively puts up a facade, reminding us that she is portraying a persona through her songs, rather than singing as herself. However, this facade--with its frantic hand movements and distraught facial expressions, its sometimes crawling and rolling around with flailing limbs on the floor, its walking back and forth, sometimes slow and graceful, sometimes rushed and desperate--really brings out the emotion of the songs, enhances them in a way that, while the sounds make you want to dance, Mitski’s mesmerizing performance reminds you that these songs are really, really depressing. For two songs towards the end, Mitski brought out the acoustic guitar and revealed to us that the old Mitski we know and love never left, she was here with us all along, thinly veiled by the persona she was portraying.

The set list consisted of the majority of her newest album Be the Cowboy, plus a few staples from her previous two albums, with one surprise being the song she closed with: the first track of her second album. Everyone sounded amazing, especially Mitski, whose vocals really captured the intense longing and one-sided adoration of the new album’s persona. The band members kept to their stations, because Mitski’s performance took up the whole entire stage, using her  mic stand, at at one point a chair, as props. There were three screens, on which images were projected for some songs, a few recurring themes being window shades, city lights, and a sort of dizzying spiral. The lighting seemed like an experiment in contrasts: songs that I’d personally expected would warrant more sunny oranges and yellows were met with blues and purples.

Mitski would take some breaks during the performance to talk to the audience and thank everyone involved in putting on the show and everyone for coming. One couple pushed their way to the front of the pit (right next to me) so that they could hand Mitski flowers; she gracefully turned them down at first, returning for them before the last song of her encore. At one point, she thanked the audience for coming to her shows and allowing her to do what she loves for a living.

The merch line was super long after the show. I already bought Be the Cowboy on Amazon, so I figured, I could always buy her other albums online if I ever felt so inclined, even though half of me was like, GIVE MITSKI ALL YOUR MONEY.

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp5p4i4hq5B/

[loveump3]

jam jam

@blotthis tagged me to share my current jams - thank you pal!! any excuse to talk about music is good by me :^) (also you should check out their list, it’s really good!!) so here’s what I’m currently enjoying (I’m sorry it’s so long lkjsodfiasf I just get really excited about music):

1. “I’m Serious” by DAY6: up until now, “You Were Beautiful” was my favorite “Every DAY6” release, but “I’m Serious” has given it it a run for its money. it’s so perfect and springy and bouncy, and everyone sounds so great, as always (esp Wonpil’s smooth intro, hoooo boy I got the Goofiest smile on my face when he started singing). but my favorite part is the bridge!! I love sections like that in songs, where the instruments drop out and we get some “bop bop bop”s instead (on this subject, also see: the second verse of “Congratulations.” thank u DAY6 for always delivering on the “bop bop bop”s). also the music video is so pretty and #aesthetic, and the boys are so cute goofin’ around at the beach, and Dowoon gets to hang out with a huge fluffy dog!!! good stuff. finally, DAY6 gets the not-angsty comeback I’ve been waiting for, and I can’t wait to blast it from the car this summer with the windows down.

2. “Start” by Mrs. Green Apple: I think if everyone could hear this song at least once, we’d all be happier people. I love the particular kind of excited frenzy that seems so uniquely Jpop/Jrock, like you just downed five Red Bulls and then inhaled three bags of Fun Dip and finally topped everything off with a bag of Sour Patch Kids (i.e. most anime theme songs), and that’s what this song feels like to me - it’s kind of breakneck and really sugary and it’s SO FUN. I love the "pap pap pap”/“chap chap chap” in the chorus, and all the unexpected instruments (banjo? piccolo?? conch shell?????), and the mv is so colorful and exciting and the band looks like they’re all having so much fun!!! MGA are adorable and I love them.

3. “I’ll Be Yours” by Girl’s Day: blots, you’re absolutely right - the new Girl’s Day album is pretty much perfect. I have to pick this song as my top fave, though, because it’s exactly the kind of jazzy swagger that I love - the horns and bouncy, plinky piano kill me, especially when they descend in the pre-chorus, and then the electric guitar in the chorus is the perfect extra zap of energy; it makes me want to write a story about cool-ass ladies who pull big-time heists. I love the the boxing scenes in the mv because they’re basically how the chorus feels to me, like a punch in the face. but, like, a good punch in the face. also, all the girls have flawless vocals, but I would marry Minah’s voice if I could; I love the the eyy-eyy-eyy and eee-eee-eee and aah-aah-aahs she does during the verses, and when she does that vocal fry at the very end, I Die.

4. “Beautiful” by Monsta X: ahhHHHHH. I still can’t handle how much I love this song. rap line absolutely kill it, as usual (Jooheon’s opening verse steals my breath every time), and I’m so happy that Hyungwon and Minhyuk finally get an opportunity to really shine as vocalists. and I had to link to the dance practice because the choreography is soooooo good - I love fluidity in the opening move, and the part where Shownu winds through the group and sets off the pairs in turn, and Minhyuk’s part in the first chorus (that body roll?? also his focused stare kills me), and the part where they like windmill their arms during I.M’s “oh god,” and when they use their jackets at the end!!!!! so good. and the rest of the album is 10/10 too. god, I’m so proud of them. I Would Die for Monsta X.

5. “Stamp!” by Scandal: I just recently started listening to Scandal (all-girl band, yesss), and goddd I love them. some of their music is that hyped-up, anime opener kind of Jrock, but some of it also sounds very American pop-punk-y, like this song. I love this music video because it feels like an American pop-punk video too, just pals hangin’ out and havin’ some summer fun (also their sense of style is [chef’s kiss]). and tbqh, when I looked up a translation of the lyrics, I teared up - they’re so sweet and encouraging I just askjdfaksj. I’ve only listened to their album “Yellow” all the way through so far, but I’m excited to listen to the others. also they legitimately have a song about how if you’re sad you should eat pizza because pizza makes everyone happy?? amazing. my kinda girls.

6. “Sports Go Sports” by Garfunkel and Oates: this is first Garfunkel and Oates song I ever heard. my roommate got me into TV show, which I finished last weekend, and I’m so sad it was only 8 episodes long :( they remind me of “Broad City,” but if Abbi and Ilana made music. I really appreciate that Garfunkel and Oates songs can be not only sweet and encouraging (“Loser”), or snarky but sorta tame (“Sports Go Sports” or “Pregnant Women are Smug”), but also real NSFW (“Go Kart Racing” or “The Loophole” (I was gonna link to “Go Kart Racing” because that’s been my actual G&O jam lately but like I said, it’s kinda NSFW, so... just a heads-up)). lady comedians who are can be flat-out filthy are my everything. along with Monsta X, I would also die for Garfunkel and Oates.

idk who to tag, but if you see this and want to do it feel free!! tell me what y’all are listening to! I’m always here for music recs :-)