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hornime · 4 years ago

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hq as my discovery weekly | part one

warnings: this is completely sfw, combo of fluff and angst

characters included: kenma, akaashi, oikawa, suna, koganegawa, ushijima, bokuto, kuroo, hinata, kita, terushima, iwaizumi, osamu, kageyama, sakusa

a/n: this was a random idea i thought of but i think it’ll be really cute haha. maybe you guys’ll find some new songs in the process! totally encourage anyone to use this idea if they want cus this was super fun to write!

playing... one through fifteen / sixteen through thirty

↪ “cotton candy lemonade" by blu detiger: kenma kozume

i've been up too long, something's wrong / watch the rising sun / turning all my nights to days

i've been on my own, come find me now / i'm lonely to the bone / but I don't feel so low when you're around / let's run away from home

you'll bе my kaleidoscope, my color in this life / watching thе world fade away

kenma is not the most extroverted and he’s in his head a lot, so he’s someone that might not always see the ‘color’ in things that exist around him. but when it comes to you, well, you’re someone that makes him look up from his screen a little longer than usual.

↪ “love affair” by umi: akaashi keiji

don't overthink this is love / maybe it's just a crush

i hope what I feel is enough / maybe this is just lies

i wanna know how to feel, what to feel, what's right / i never know / 'cause when it gets real, I just run away / and hide from you

akaashi gets anxiety. he used to be certain about a lot of things—his intelligence, his skill, his happiness, but most important to him was his feelings for you. he’s overthinking again, he knows it, but he’s getting an uncontrollable itch that maybe this is all in his head; he doesn’t love you, he just think he does. but when you’re in his arms, breathing even and eyes fluttered shut, he remembers what you always told him: it doesn’t matter what he knows, it matters what he feels. and he feels like the luckiest man alive.

↪ “coke” by iii addicts, danice: oikawa tooru

come closer, i been eyeing you from way over / so it's time i come for some closure

had to let her know that you could lick this / shake it up, it's gonna probably gon' bust

why, tell me why / why am i not satisfied / every time i cross that line / i feel it, i feel it

oikawa feels like tantalus: a man constantly reaching for a goal just out of reach, straining his muscles and screaming his voice hoarse just for a glimpse of an unattainable destiny. he’s desperate to get ahead, and while he may be running at top speed at all times, the finish line doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. his worst fear is that, some time he’ll slow his pace and look back and realize he hasn’t gotten very far at all.

↪ “baby powder” by jenevieve: suna rintaro

i'll put up with you babe / there's somethings I won't take / baby don't feel me false / yeah that turns me off

you're making me so high now / you're everything I'd ever want / you're keeping me so dry now / you're everything I'd never want uh

plastic on the floor but it ain't for me / ima go up to the place that i'd rather be

suna is straightforward. he won’t deal with your bullshit, and he learns that you won’t deal with his either, which makes you so appealing. when he starts letting more and more of you in, he feels you slipping through his fingers. you wanted to be friends, so you treat him as one. he doesn’t remember when he started wanting more.

↪ “chandelier (instrumental version)” by paquin: koganegawa kanji

instrumental so no lyrics lol

koganegawa is bubbly. he’s a bouncer: he bounces between social circles, bounces colors behind his eyes, and bounces back after adversity. he’s an amiable guy, and it’s landed him plenty of friends and opportunities, but best of all, it’s landed him you.

↪ “l-over” by u.s. girls: ushijima wakatoshi

my lover has no heart / magic moving blood around that body / he's cool to the touch / i don't see him much / but when I do, he does nothing for me

can you imagine trying to get / some satisfaction out of a stone?

spare me any talk of your future life / i don't know what I'll do without you

ushijima is stubborn. he’s deadset on achieving his goals for the future, and if you can’t work with them, you better work around them. you’re tired of how he grounds you; you thought it was a blessing at first, having a guy that knew what he wanted and would always act as a constant in your life, but you’ve started to see that he’s not a lighthouse anymore, he’s an anchor. he’s an anchor that’s chaining you to the ocean floor and will drown you if you, even for a second, stop kicking your legs to stay afloat.

↪ “magic!” by リアムMAZE1981: bokuto koutarou

and when you smile at me that way / well you can warm the coldest day / it's magic

and all i have to do is think of you / to make the music start to play / then i dance down the street / and the people I meet stop and say hey hey

and when you want me you just clap your hands / and I'll be with you right away / then we'll float on a breeze / while the leaves in the trees softly say hey hey / magic ways, my friend / you love the girl with magic ways and it's true / i might as well give in

bokuto is bright. he tramps around the world with the light of the sun illuminating his face. there is nothing in the universe that could ever drag him down, especially not with you around. you’ve cast some kind of spell on him, he’s sure of it, because your very presence makes him certain that he’s immortal. he must be, because when he’s with you, he’s withstanding the heat of a thousand suns that erases the darkness in every shadow, corner, and crevice of his life.

↪ “i hope that u think of me” by pity party (girls club): kuroo tetsuro

i hope that you dream of me baby / nightmares are what dreams are baby i-i-i / i think I'm fallin' out of love

you tell me that it's easy to be / you tell me that it's easy to be with me but you lie-i-i / why do you lie all the time?

kuroo is focused. he takes note of everything when he’s working on a task, down to dotting the ‘i’s and crossing the ‘t’s. he often finds himself with tunnel vision, unable to think of anything but the current responsibility at the top of his every-growing to-do list. somewhere along the way, he lost track of you—must’ve loosened his grip on your hand and your fingers fell through empty space. he’d look for you, back in the void, but he’s busy. he keeps moving, unaware that you’ve turned back, walking in the opposite direction as him to find the life before him that you barely remember.

↪ “the leanover” by life without buildings: hinata shoyo

kiss me, break my mind, close the door / black steel, break my mind, close the door

if i lose you in the street / i say, i say, i say, i say, i say, i say / wassup, wassup with you? / wassup with your friends?

hinata is unfazed. he knows that, when things go bad, there’ll always be something there to right them. so when your paths diverge—maybe your schedules don’t work out, your dates get canceled, your nights home become more and more sparse—he’s not worried. not one bit. because at the end of the night, he knows that you’ll always find your way back to one another, and you’ll always greet him with open arms. and he’ll always do the same.

↪ “ladyfingers - edit” by funding secured: kita shinsuke

instrumental so no lyrics lol

kita is polished. he works hard during the day to be with you at night, dancing in little circles in the small kitchen of your shared home. he looks at you with fondness and appreciation, thanking his stars a million times over for granting him with someone like you. he’s a tree, stable in the harshest of gales, but even trees like to sway with the wind sometimes.

↪ “black madonna” by cage the elephant: terushima yuuji

makes no difference here, so let's be real / black madonna, my black flower / nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide / you're not havin' fun, i think that you should ride

climb so high, don't hear a sound / don't you forget what goes around, comes around / climb so high, tell me how to feel

call me when you're ready to be real / black madonna, my hallelujah

terushima is hedonistic. he’s never concerned himself with thoughts of the future, or of the past, or of anything, really. all he can think about is making each moment as willing to be lived as possible. you, on the other hand, are practical, too practical in his opinion, and he wants you to let loose, lighten up a little bit. maybe in the long run, it won’t be the best idea to let him take you by the hand and on a midnight adventure, but you haven’t thought that far ahead yet. guess he’s already rubbing off on you.

↪ “mother nature’s bitch” by okay kaya: iwaizumi hajime

everybody / please give a warm welcome to / to this current mood

here i am / easy to please / here i am / okay with it

here i am / desperate for attention / here i am / being mother nature's bitch

iwaizumi is hardworking. he does the best he can with everything he tries; sometimes that amounts to something and sometimes it doesn’t. most times it doesn’t fulfill his expectations, as high as they are. when you’re around, his borderline hatred for himself disappears. when you’re there to tell him how great he’s doing, the tension in his shoulders dissipates.

↪ “smithereens” by rasharn powell, ab001: miya osamu

found my power / and my brethren / in a tussle with the world itself

see if I’m david, you’re goliath / there’s some power in defiance / put my heart in a slingshot / we been cycling away for days

searching for freedom always / likeness of an orgasm been had / empty with a peace that just don’t last / petite mort, then born again

osamu is pioneering. he opened a small business and eventually branched out, managing chains of his restaurant across the nation. it may not be a flashy job, but it’s a solid one, and a draining one. there are days of back-to-back shifts, afternoons overwhelming catering orders, and nights spent sleeping over on a cot near the kitchen. when he dreams, curled up with the smell of onigri still lingering in the air, he can only think of ‘what if’ he’d chosen another path, a path with a more obvious end, a more obvious definition of glory. but he still wakes up at dawn, conquering his own corner of the sky, knowing that his life, while it may be small, is not insignificant.

↪ “must be” by lou phelps: kageyama tobio

must be the henny on the ice / must be the diamonds that I buy / might be the shit that I write / whatever a n**** do and say, that's what I like

i'm on the cloud as i walk the front door / that's a boost, that's true, that's loo

yeah, um, i'mma need my space / 'cause you's a bum-bum, can't be standing next to me, uh / forgive me for my sins / don't tell me this is wrong if it feels right

kageyama is cocky. he’s good at what he does, amazing, actually, and he sure as hell knows it. he’s surrounded by people that make him better, people that he makes better, and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be. he’s on his way to carve his way into the moon and he’s not going to tolerate anyone that wants to keep him on earth.

↪ “jealous” by eyedress: sakusa kiyoomi

you could have anyone you want / why would you want to be with me? / you know, I'm nothing special

don't tell me about your problems / if you're not trying to solve them / don't ask me for my help

sakusa is independent. he’s not one to see himself as part of someone else’s orbit, opting to act like a random rock, floating in space with no origin and no destination. he’s worried that, if he gets too close to you, he’ll end up getting drawn in by your gravity and either crash land or burn up. neither seems appealing, and the idea of a safe encounter hasn’t even crossed his mind, so he’s going to keep moving on an endless trek towards the stars.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #kenma #akaashi #oikawa #suna #koganegawa #ushijima #bokuto #kuroo #hinata

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imnotcameraready · 4 years ago

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more than beliefs (5: mother knows best)

A/N: still trying at this ! i still don't own any tables so honestly, writing has been kinda hard :') but i'm still up to a polished chapter 7 and know VERY well what is happening in chapter 8, so we're looking pretty good. i wrote all of chivalry chapter by chapter so.....hoping this goes well :'D

WARNINGS: manipulation, plotting a murder, paranoia description, blunt force trauma, assault, amnesia, blood, graphic description of violence — this chapter’s the first doozy! if i missed anything, please let me know!

Words: 4378

AO3 link!

enjoy!! <3

“Now, this might be a controversial opinion, but the second Little Mermaid movie is a top-tier Disney sequel,” the Director said, idly mixing a teaspoon around in his hot chocolate.

Roman scoffed. He was sitting on the Director’s couch, wrapped in a blanket while they watched 2005’s Just Like Heaven starring Mark Ruffalo and Reese Witherspoon. The Director had suggested they watch something from Disney, but while Roman loved the whole library of Disney movies lining his shelf, he couldn’t choose which one he wanted. To his surprise, the Director didn’t have a favorite, either. He’d said he was fond of the cookie-cutter damsel in distress narrative of older Disney stories, which Roman tried (and failed) to take offense to, but did agree that many modern movies like Big Hero 6 had interestingly complex and developed stories.

“I just prefer the expansion on oceanic lore. And I’m a sucker for a good parental storyline, when the former protag takes on the motherly role.” The Director took a sip of his coffee.

“And here I thought you weren’t one of my creative advisors,” Roman said with a smirk, crossing his arms upon his pillowy throne.

The Director scoffed, and as he rolled his eyes Roman could have sworn that he was blushing. Maybe he was embarrassed. “Just because I’m not David doesn’t mean I can’t have opinions on works of art,” he sounded dejected—Roman guessed that was fair. The Dragon and Damsel and Child, most obviously, had strong opinions on art yet no artistic inclinations.

It was still up in the air if the Thief did. It didn’t seem like he had many opinions on things that weren’t consequential to Roman’s direct safety, but he was very quiet. Roman didn’t rule out the possibility of the Thief just not wanting to share that information with him, which was….well. Unfortunate.

Roman wished he got to know his advisors better. Ever since they were separated from him, Roman feels like he’s been at the grinding stone with them all. The Thief had spent the whole wedding either swearing or screaming suggestions angrily, and when he wasn’t, he was comforting an incredibly distraught Bard. The Damsel and Playwright tried to help the most but... He had barely even seen the Artist outside of their creative sessions. He had barely seen the Dragon or Child, period.

The Director was an interesting one. Roman had everyone’s phone numbers, because, well, he wasn’t about to use carrier pigeons. Though that might be super cool to try one day. But the Director was just about the only advisor to casually reach out to him. He would send Roman memes. How did he even get memes? Roman and Remus had created an Imagination-version of the internet, so it was likely from their co-sponsored Imagination Tumblr or something. The Director putting in the effort and time to think of Roman during such small instances was what made Roman feel more comfortable here, though. That’s what made him trust the Director with these sorts of situations. Almost made them closer...

Was that selfish? To favor one part of oneself over others? Surely not. It was similar to recognizing flaws, or pimples and blemishes. Not to say any of the others were blemishes. Drats, even Roman’s internal monologue was demeaning to himself.

“Do you want any more coffee? I’m going to go refill,” the Director’s voice jolted Roman out of his stupor, and he looked up with wide eyes.

“No, I’m okay,” and after a small beat, he added, “Thank you again for housing me. I can’t imagine what Phillip would want to say after yesterday’s debacle.”

The Director scoffed. Roman snuggled into his blanket more, listening to the Director pour himself another mug and reply. “Anytime, Roman,” he chuckled, then put on one of the most outlandishly fake accents Roman’s ever heard. “I live to serve~”

“Sto-op,” Roman groaned, throwing his head back and shooting the Director a glare—well, glaring at the kitchen door. There were walls around all of the rooms here, unlike the Mind Palace.

The Director laughed even more when he returned, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed on the cushion. He held his mug in his hands for a few seconds before talking, tone much more sober.

“I do have to say. I’m surprised I was the one you came to.” The Director’s voice is a little more quiet. “I thought for sure you would have sought comfort with Cadence or Gavin before me.”

Roman blinks. “I guess….I didn’t want to be judged again.” He looked back down at his lap, at the blankets piled up there and his own coziness. “Every time I come back after an argument, or after making a fool of myself, it seems everyone has an opinion on how poorly I handled a situation. None of them really acknowledge….It must have been….”

He’d been a little confused about it, too. The trust issue.

“Janus has strung my emotions along enough for it to be fair that I don’t trust him,” Roman said, voice soft as he tried to put how he’d been feeling into words. “Right?”

That was as close an explanation as he could get to. Because it all boiled down to the trust issue, in his understanding of the situation. As much as Patton wanted him to let go of the situation, Patton was focusing on the mustache quip rather than the whole trust thing. Janus knew Roman had wanted to go to the callback. But Roman also wanted to be a good person, if that’s what Thomas wanted. Thomas wanted to be a good person so Roman also wanted to be a good person.

But when being a good person directly went against Thomas’ dreams, Janus stepped in. And sure, he argued that they weren’t supposed to be self-sacrificial, but wasn’t that a hero’s job? When did a hero ever get to keep anything before sacrificing everything? Isn’t that what made sense?

Janus didn’t even do a good job at explaining it, not until all the damage had already been done. This was different from just giving Roman the perfect set up for a theater display, this was Janus pretending that he wanted what Roman wanted. This was Janus pretending to be his friend but wanting Thomas to...be a bad person?

He didn’t understand. Maybe Patton was right. Maybe Roman just didn’t understand. And that’s what made his disgruntlement so confusing, because in his heart, Roman knew Janus was trying to help, he knew that, he understood. But then why did it hurt so much?

“Oh, honey, he’s gone way past that. Don’t gaslight yourself into thinking he’s been helpful,” Macbeth’s icy voice cut through the thoughts wrangling Roman’s mind.

The Director was so self-assured. It was comforting. He was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as he explained.

“And Patton, Logan, turning around just to say you should let it go and listen to him after he’s lied nine times out of ten?” the Director threw his head back and let out a sharp “Hah! No, your anger is rational. And defensible.”

“Why won’t any of the others agree with that?”

The Director starred at Roman for a minute. Just a little too long. His eyes seemed to press Roman into a corner, under a box. Scrutinized.

They both knew that “others” wasn’t a reference to the other Sides. The Director kept his distance from Roman’s other advisors, he knew that, but Roman didn’t know how far. The Director wasn’t the kind to just watch them, was he?

“They all have their opinions. About Disney and otherwise.” He took another drink of his coffee then shook his head, standing up, motioning for Roman to follow, “May I show you….something. Without you thinking I’m crazy?”

Now, that’s always a fairly worrying question to hear. “No, no, I trust you,” Roman said with a slight grin.

The Director must have been able to see how it waned, because he chuckled, smiled back. “I think we’re all a little zany. But that’s the charm. Phillip is undoubtedly the scariest, as much as Draco tries. The Prince, Damsel, whichever you want, has a noticeable villain complex.”

Wait, what?

The Director raised his hands in mock defeat. Showing his hands, like he were trying to assure Roman that he wasn’t being suspicious. But the hairs on Roman’s neck rose. He led Roman to the door just besides Roman’s room. When he first started visiting the Director, he explained that this was his study. Roman had never gone in. Because, you know, when you respect someone you also respect their privacy.

“I’ve only ever spoken to Marlowe, but, you know. I’m the Director of players I can never meet. I had to take notes,” he added the final part quietly.

He glanced over the combination button pad on the door. Roman hadn’t noticed that. What room would require a combination lock? And who would be….Was it to keep him out? Or someone else? Maybe the Playwright, the Director mentioned he’d been over before. Keep anyone out, it seemed.

“I….notes?” he was flabbergasted. What the fuck was happening?

“Yeah.” The Director opened the door slowly and motioned for Roman to follow.

Inside were papers. One wall was a large tackboard, photos and sticky notes and papers pinned up, connected with lines of colored yarn. Roman felt his mouth fall open as he inspected it. There were notes on all of his advisors, all seven of the others, even some of people Roman didn’t know. There was someone with four eyes. Someone with antlers. Who were they? How did this all fit together?

Why in Athena’s name did the Director have corkboard notes on the other advisors? That was a lot more than a little weird.

“I...You’re wonderful, Roman. So productive and pristine and princely, as you deserve to be. But there are some areas where you can stand to improve.” Roman was probably only processing some of the Director’s words as he rolled up his sleeves and pulled out a metal stick, one that looked oddly like a wand.

He held it in one hand, and suddenly it extended, until it was a pointer. The Director held both ends of it and watched Roman for a reaction, a response, something.

“I would have to agree,” Roman stumbled over his words a little, eyes still glued to the notes—there were some by the Child that read ‘Naive/Trusting/Problem?’—before he slowly turned back to the Director with a weak grin once again. “I mean, I might be pristinely princely, but those P alliterations don’t include perfect. No one’s perfect.”

“It may be an unattainable dream, but we’re well familiar with those. We can only strive for improvement! And when improving you and yourself, that means making changes to them,” the Director gestured up at the wall of photos, of the parts of Roman’s self, and smacked the Child’s photo with his pointer. “I actually only thought I would be reading these notes, so forgive me for any, er. Sharp language.”

Roman knew that self-improvement meant adopting new mindsets, but he had no idea that putting parts of himself into characters involved changing them as well, though it did make sense. Self-insert characters had to change if you were changing the self that was being inserted. Right?

If he wanted to improve….it made sense. He had to change himself, including the facets of himself.

“That’s fair,” Roman murmured, “Okay. These….You could take these notes to the other advisors. Surely they’d accept it?”

“At this point, I don’t know who would kill me faster,” the Director scoffed, then gestured at the Damsel’s notes, a cluster of sticky notes and drawings and photos of the Damsel at a well enough distance that it was closer to stalker-ish. “Phillip wouldn’t want competition. Marlowe agrees that he can be quite standoffish when threatened, and a newcomer claiming to be one of Roman’s advisors? Someone who doesn’t have his respect in a royal manner?”

The Director pointed to the Thief now, a even more grave expression adorning his face. “And Eric. Tell me you think he would accept a newcomer of any kind. Just tell me. Especially near Gavin. And the Child himself probably wouldn’t like me.”

Well, that sounded off. Roman leaned on the wall besides the door, back against his hands as he continued to inspect the wall. There were notes on the other advisors’ behaviors, their antics.

For some reason, Roman could almost imagine Janus or Logan doing this. It was something close to weird and something else close to endearing. Was that weird?

“Why not? Gavin’s pretty trusting.” Roman didn’t look away from the wall as he replied.

“In fairness, he might like me, but I don’t know if I could ever come around to liking him. He’s the root source of all our issues, especially our present issue with Janus, Patton, Logan. Even past issues with Remus, if I’m remembering them properly. What Gavin represents allows us to be easily swayed.”

That got Roman to look away, look down at the Director. He was glaring up at the Child’s photo with something fierce, which startled Roman enough. I mean, that was a whole child there. What would inspire this much hatred?

“Really now?” Roman wanted to know.

“He gets us to let our guard down. It’s at Gavin’s behest we take chances, but it’s that same honesty that leads us to broken promises, taking in lies like they’re candy. I don’t know what I would do with him,” the Director sounded disappointed.

That was a fair analysis. All of the advisors—the Playwright, the Thief, the Child, Bard, Artist, Dragon, Damsel, Director—they all represented different parts of Roman, similar to how the Sides represented parts of Thomas. In theory, they worked together. In practice, that was far from the truth, but Roman knew for his sake that they were trying their best.

They all oversaw different parts of Roman’s psyche, too. The Playwright, for example, was most similar to Logan in that he represented Roman’s research and organization, on a creative and egotistical level. The Playwright—Marlowe—could be trusted with knowing how many liters of blood were in the human body as well as every one of the Sides’ favorite karaoke songs, even the exact time and date they met Nico.

The Child was Roman’s belief, his ability to dream. It was fair to assume that that made him the most naïve part. Perhaps it was even a fair conclusion that the debacles with Janus were caused by what the Child represented.

Roman hadn’t thought of it like that. The last time he’d talked to the Child, Gavin, about the situation, he had seem incredibly disappointed.

He’d never stopped to ask what the Child was disappointed in, though. Was he disappointed in Roman? Or in himself? Did the Child know he was the one who had pushed Roman to trust Janus? Did….There was no way that this was….the Child’s fault. Was it?

“Huh.” Roman’s voice echoed emptily to himself. A pit opened in his stomach, something difficult to grasp. The root cause of his burdens couldn’t be his ability to dream. His dreams themselves, his hopes, his beliefs. He….he was the daydreamer, the creator. That couldn’t be a flaw, could it?

The Director watched him, but Roman hardly noticed. It was only for a few seconds, too, of stoic silence before the Director interrupted his thoughts with a huff, looked across the board. “This is quite a bit of insight at once. Maybe we should finish the movie.”

“Director?”

Roman and the Director both turned to the open doorway, the later slapping a hand over his own mouth immediately. With a flick of his wrist, the door closed quietly, clicking just loud enough for the both of them to hear. They also heard the Playwright in the living room, footsteps echoing faintly on the stone floor.

“Director?” the Playwright called out again.

“Fuck,” the Director whispered. This must have been an unplanned visit.

“What? We can just go out and say hello,” Roman said back, though his demeanor and body language spoke of worry, almost fear.

The Playwright was well known to be a pacifist. And the Playwright knew about the Director, knew about Roman knowing the Director. He was a little surprised to find that the Playwright didn’t know the Director’s name was Macbeth, but Roman knew the Director to be a man of secrets.

“He doesn’t know I….He doesn’t know you’re here. He barely knows we talk,” the Director looked around the room and pressed a hand to one of the walls, “Fuck. How are we going to get him out?”

The rock beneath the Director’s hand morphs into a doorway and he opens it. The Playwright was standing in the living room, close to the front door to the home. He looked up at them both, eyes widening when he met Roman’s. Before Roman could say anything, even think of something to say, the Playwright spoke with ease.

“Roman’s here? Thank goodness. Virgil’s come looking for him,” he gave Roman a small smile, strained but caring all the same.

“Ah.” Roman stiffened. Virgil came looking for him? In the Imagination? Why? How? He didn’t have his own passage into this space yet, how’d he get here?

He didn’t want to talk to Virgil. As supportive as he’d been, especially when it came to taking care of Thomas, there were still some areas where Roman wanted to be alone, wanted to process his thoughts alone. Virgil was...vindictive. Which was a strong word to use, but an apt one. Virgil’s distaste in Janus made it hard for Roman to form his own thoughts, which was why he often tried away from Virgil as much as Patton.

He wasn’t ready for that kind of confrontation, and the Director must have been able to tell, because he physically looked like he didn’t want Roman to go.

“I actually didn’t expect to find you here, though I’m not entirely surprised,” the Playwright must not have been privy to these feelings, glancing between the Director and Roman, shock still gracing his features.

“Really now,” the Director said, tilting his head, “Why not?”

“I just didn’t know Roman had met you, but of course, even I’m not as omniscient as Creativity himself,” the Playwright stepped closer, reaching toward Roman. “You have to come up, though. Virgil said everyone’s worried.”

Roman starred at the Playwright’s hand, unsure of what to do with the gesture. He knew everyone would be worried, on a baseline. Closed doors didn’t do well around the Mind Palace, especially his, especially after his splitting incident, but that didn’t mean he had to cater to everyone else’s worry. He was allowed privacy.

Before he formulated a response, though, the Director placed a hand in front of Roman. His smile toward the Playwright turned sour, lips pursed in a mix of thought and anger.

“He doesn’t have to go see Virgil if he doesn’t want to.” Roman felt some of the tension in his shoulder alleviate at the Director’s statement, as basic as it was.

The Playwright, on the other hand, didn’t seem to understand. He looked between Roman and the Director again, surprised even further by how familiar they seemed. There had been a fair amount of transparency in Roman’s relationships with all of the other advisors that there must be some dissonance to see him be so familiar with someone he hadn’t even expected Roman to know. Something about that surprise, the bait and switch, the lie, felt fulfilling.

“It wouldn’t be difficult to alleviate Virgil’s worried and tell him to leave again,” the Playwright explained slowly. “I’m sure, if Roman told him he wanted privacy, he would understand.”

“I’m sure, if Virgil could understand that, then he wouldn’t have tread where he shouldn’t. You can’t make him do anything.” The Director’s voice grew darker, hand unwavering.

“Make him?” the Playwright sounded so confused.

Roman was also confused where the Director’s notion came from, but it was validating to hear reminders that Roman’s decisions were his to make. But nothing in the Playwright’s tone was forceful.

For a moment, it seemed as though the Playwright would drop his confusion.

Until he took a step forward, toward the Director and Roman, with one hand outstretched. Roman didn’t know what he’d been planning, but he knew the Playwright wasn’t a sporadic man. He hated adding physicality to situations where debate and discussion could suffice. So, in hindsight, it was likely the Playwright was reaching out to make peace.

The moment passed in mere seconds.

He was taller than the Director by a noticeable few inches, so the Director bent his knees. He pushed Roman behind him with his outstretched arm, acting faster than either Roman or the Playwright could react to. The Director stuck his leg out and grabbed the Playwright by the fabric of his shirt, behind his neck. The Playwright, surprised by the sudden movements, tripped on his leg and let out a sharp gasp of surprise.

Besides them was the living room coffee table. As the Playwright fell, the Director redirected his head toward the table, shoving him away from Roman.

It felt very spur of the moment, and it happened in a true moment. The Playwright let out a scream, sharp and fearful, before his forehead collided with the edge of the metal table. He fell beneath it unconscious. Blood pooled at the Director’s feet as he stood back up.

Roman’s hands shot to his face immediately, as soon as the Playwright started falling, and he could only stare in horror at the scene. The Director, too, seemed shocked at his own reaction. He starred at his blood-stained socks for a little while, breathing heavy enough for Roman to hear. It must be the adrenaline.

“I,” the Director’s voice caught in his throat.

Roman watched. Just watched. The Director swallowed, turning around to face Roman with a mirroring horrified expression, eyes wide with surprise. “You have to make him forget.”

“What?” Roman’s voice was strained, almost a whisper, and he cleared his throat to repeat. “Excuse me?”

What kind of request….?

“If Marlowe remembers this, we’re fucked. He knows you’re here. He’s going to think I attacked him. I-I did attack him,” The Director took a slow breath, turning to look at the body on the ground before shaking his head—unable to look. “David is going to kill me.

“Make him forget. He can stay here. For a bit. We can figure this out,” he put his hands up towards Roman. “We-The other Sides’re gonna follow Virgil. We both know that. And, uh. Only Marlowe knew I was here. So we’ve got time to figure out how to, uh. Play this off.”

Roman starred at him with wide eyes. The past two days had been such a long mess, he didn’t know what to do. Physically, he could remove the Playwright memories. He’d be a blank slate of a character, only backstory. What would that do? The Playwright’s backstory was that he was the Playwright. He didn’t have some elaborate parent-death or chosen-one-esque story that he could fall back on. Poor bastard wasn’t even the one who had Roman’s memories prior.

But the Director was right, in a way. If they wanted more time to think about everything—the other Sides were looking for him? How did Virgil get in here? Why would he be looking for Roman, it wasn’t uncommon for him to stomp away from a verbal duel, why now?—then they couldn’t have the Playwright ratting them out.

When he manipulated the Imagination directly, his powers were red. Remus’ were green. It was distinctive. So when Roman sank down, put a hand on the back of the Playwright’s head, his hand turned red.

It blended in with the blood.

Roman felt vile. He had to do this, or else the others would find him. A quiet, dull part of his mind told him that didn’t matter but….he didn’t want to be found. He didn’t.

He pulled gently, as though tugging the thoughts out, and something glistened red and gold as he did. Then, Roman let it go, and it disappeared. It reminded him a little of Dumbledore pulling his own memories out in Harry Potter. Roman didn’t feel much the chosen one, either, though.

“There,” he said quietly.

The Director let out a soft breath. It didn’t sound like either of them knew what to do, to be fair. Maybe the Director hadn’t even expected this.

“I’ll….here.” The Director looked up and pointed at the wall behind the couch.

The couch scooted forward a little, enough for there to be a walkway behind it, and the room simultaneously pulled away from the couch. Then, a door formed on the wall. It clicked once, then swung open. Another room.

Roman stood still, staring at his hands—was that magic or blood?—while the Director leaned down to pick the Playwright up. The man hadn’t moved since being bludgeoned by the table.

“Under the sink in the bathroom is a first aid kit,” the Director said, voice stoic, taking the reins on the situation, “I’ll make him a bedroom and bandage his head. Then he can stay for a day or two. We must figure out what to do, about the other Sides and about Marlowe.”

That was fair. He’d only stay a little.

Dimly, Roman remembered that this was the Imagination, he mastered this world, so he could technically get rid of the Playwright’s wound. He could get rid of his memory and the wound and send him right back to his home, right back to the Artist, good as normal and none the wiser.

But….something in the back of his head stopped him. And the Director pulled him into the other room faster than Roman could overcome whatever clouded thoughts were plaguing him.

#chivalry au #roman #roman sanders #ts roman #sanders sides fic #clap clap clap clap #tw blood #tw violence #tw assault #tw blunt force trauma #tw amnesia #AND WE HIT ONE OF THE BIGGEST ISSUES IN THIS FIC #LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THIS WAS THE FIRST CHAPTER I WROTE LKGJKHJGKJGH #marlowe goes through it #its okay he needed a cognitive recalibration

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passionate-reply · 4 years ago

Video

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This week on Great Albums: a fresh look at quite possibly the 80s’ most hated band, A Flock of Seagulls! Spoiler: their music is good, people in the 90s and 00s were just mean. If you want to find out more about how having the absolute best hair in the business ended up backfiring on these poor sods, look no further than my latest video. Or the transcript of it, which follows below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’m going to be diving into a discussion of quite possibly the most derided and lambasted music group of the 1980s: A Flock of Seagulls. With a strange name, a perhaps painfully stylish aesthetic, and equally trendy and of-the-moment music, that was, for a time, inescapable in popular culture, their legacy forms a perfect target for the ridicule all popular things must face in due time. But even moreso than that, I think A Flock of Seagulls have become not only a punchline in and of themselves, but also a summation of everything that was dreadful and excessive about the early 1980s, with its “Second British Invasion” of synthesiser-driven New Wave. I can think of no better example of this kind of abuse than a famous line from the 1999 comedy film, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. The film is largely a love letter to the 1960s and its Mod aesthetics, and the protagonist, a super-spy unfrozen from this era in time, dismisses the history and culture of the 1970s and 80s as nothing more than “a gas shortage, and A Flock of Seagulls.” But at the time of this writing, we’re about as far away from Austin Powers as the film was from the release of this album, the band’s 1982 debut LP, so I think it’s been long enough that we can start to re-evaluate A Flock of Seagulls’ rightful place in music history.

While this self-titled album was the group’s first long-player, their first release was the 1981 single “It’s Not Me Talking.” Notably, this track was actually produced by the legendary Bill Nelson, who also released it on their behalf via his personal label, Cocteau Records. Ever since discovering this for myself, I’ve found the connection between Nelson and A Flock of Seagulls fascinating, and also satisfying. Despite the gulf between their respective reputations, I do think their work has a lot in common, at the end of the day: swirling washes of synth disrupted by screaming guitars, not to mention that shared interest in Midcentury rock and roll aesthetics.

Music: “It’s Not Me Talking”

These two acts would, of course, go their separate ways shortly after, and they ended up in completely opposite camps, with Nelson becoming a cult favourite with little crossover success, and A Flock of Seagulls going on to create what is, undoubtedly, one of the most iconic songs of the entire decade.

Music: “I Ran”

What does one even say about a song like “I Ran”? Over the years, it’s certainly gotten somewhat overplayed, but I can’t really hold that against it. It’s just a damn good song. Both ethereally menacing as well as catchy and rather accessible, “I Ran” takes the atmosphere suggested by “It’s Not Me Talking” and kicks it into another gear, with a harder-hitting hook and the introduction of that highly distinctive and of-the-moment echoing guitar effect. Some will hear it as little more than evidence that the song is hopelessly dated, but I’ve never thought of it as anything other than satisfying to listen to. If you ask me, I figure all art that exists is essentially “a product of its time”--nobody ever said Michelangelo Buonarroti’s David was a lousy sculpture, just because you can easily tell it was made during the Italian Renaissance. At any rate, I’d encourage everyone reading to go back and listen to it again, trying to maintain a little neutrality. I’d recommend the album cut of it, which is significantly longer than the single version, and features a rich intro that sets the scene before that famous guitar ever makes an appearance, which I think really adds to the experience. By some reckonings, A Flock of Seagulls are sometimes considered a “one-hit wonder,” but while they certainly are remembered chiefly for “I Ran,” this album’s other singles were moderately successful as well.

Music: “Space Age Love Song”

“Space Age Love Song” is perhaps the band’s second best-remembered single, and takes their sound in a markedly different direction than that of “I Ran.” “I Ran” won popular acclaim by finding a new home for the guitar, in the midst of a sea of synth, and pushed A Flock of Seagulls into a similar space as acts like the Cars and Duran Duran, who had enough mainstream rock sensibilities to sneak a lot of synthesiser usage onto American rock radio...much as one might sneak spinach into tomato sauce when feeding picky children. But I think “Space Age Love Song” is much more palatable to listeners of pop, synth- or otherwise. It’s softer in texture, and really almost dreamy, capturing the hazy, buoyant feeling of limerence as well as any pop song ever has. I’m tempted to compare it to another synth-driven classic, whose influence towers over this period in electronic music: the great Giorgio Moroder’s “I Feel Love.” Much like “I Feel Love,” “Space Age Love Song” combines simple, almost banal love lyrics with an evocative electronic soundscape, painting a picture of an enchanting, high-tech future where human feelings like love have remained comfortably recognizable across centuries or millennia. A similar theme of futuristic love pervades the album’s second single, “Modern Love Is Automatic.”

Music: “Modern Love Is Automatic”

While “Space Age Love Song” uses simplistic lyricism to portray the relatable universality of falling in love, “Modern Love Is Automatic” gives us the album’s most complex narrative. In a world where “young love’s forbidden,” we meet a pair of star-crossed lovers prevented from being together by some sort of dystopian authority. The male member of this union, introduced as the “cosmic man,” is apparently imprisoned for the crime of loving, but the text suggests that he may escape from this prison--or, perhaps, even be freed from it. The title, repeated quite frequently throughout the track, is perhaps the mantra of this anti-love society, a piece of propaganda being drilled into us as thoroughly as it is into these subjects: Modern love is automatic, with no need for messy, unpredictable human input.

It’s also worth noting that the song is consciously set in “old Japan,” deliberately locating it in the “exotic” East. While East Asia was strongly associated with refined, perhaps futuristic culture, I can’t help but think there’s a more pejorative sentiment operating here, rooted in stereotypes of Asian cultures unduly policing sexual freedom, and other forms of personal expression and self-determination. Ultimately, despite its futuristic trappings, “Modern Love Is Automatic” isn’t really a song about technology at all, but rather authoritarianism. “Telecommunication,” on the other hand, engages more directly with that theme.

Music: “Telecommunication”

“Telecommunication” was also released prior to the self-titled album proper, and was also produced by Bill Nelson. While structurally similar to “Modern Love Is Automatic,” with an oft-repeated title, brief verses, and a generally repetitive musical structure full of meandering guitar, its text quite plainly discusses the titular field of technology, in a seemingly non-judgmental fashion--though it could be argued that the fairly upbeat music suggests a positive outlook on things like radio and TV. The one hitch in all of it is the very end of the last verse, which sets the song in the “nuclear age”--a nod, perhaps, to the darker applications of 20th Century technology. “Telecommunication” is perhaps indebted less to figures like Moroder, and moreso to Kraftwerk, who first solidified the rich tradition of stoic synth thumpers about everyday machines like cars, trains, and, of course, nuclear energy. I’m also tempted to compare it to an earlier work of Bill Nelson’s group Be-Bop Deluxe, “Electrical Language,” another bubbly number that playfully bats this concept back and forth.

The theme of “quotidian technology” is also present on the cover of this album, which features an interior shot of a living room, centered around a television set. The TV displays a figure playing guitar--perhaps one of those heroic rock pioneers of the Midcentury like Buddy Holly, whom Nelson was so keen to imitate. But what’s most immediately striking about this cover is its beautiful colour palette, full of deep, saturated jewel tones, treated softly with an “airbrush” style effect. Despite being a somewhat mundane scene, the image also features fanciful, imaginative touches: the floor of this room is actually a miniature beach landscape, with the “floor” beneath the TV actually being the surface of the ocean, and the TV appears to be surrounded by a colourful, glowing group of birds. Given the beachy surroundings, we could perhaps interpret them as the titular seagulls. It’s tempting to think of this scene as a representation of how technology can sweep us away, out of our everyday existence and into something richer and more exciting.

But perhaps it’s not so simple--note also the open window in the top left, whose curtain appears to be agitated by some sort of motion in the air. Perhaps these birds are not the products of television fantasy, but rather have flown in from the window, and hence hail from the “real world?” Given how tracks like “Space Age Love Song” and “Modern Love Is Automatic” tackle the theme of the mundane meeting the fantastical, I think this complex and arresting image is a great fit for the album.

While their self-titled debut spawned multiple recognizable hits, A Flock of Seagulls never came anywhere close to recapturing its success. For the most part, they struggled to remain relevant as time wore on, largely abandoning the sonic footprint of their first album, and chasing after new trends in music technology such as digital synthesisers. They would eventually break up during the mid-1980s, and though they’ve reunited in order to perform live several times, the book is probably closed on A Flock of Seagulls. Personally, I can’t help but wonder what might have been if they had stuck to their musical roots a bit more. You get a bit of that on their third LP, 1984’s The Story of a Young Heart, which thankfully brings back that iconic echoing guitar, and does so without sounding too much like a simple retread of “I Ran.” Out of all their other work, it’s the album I would most recommend to admirers of this debut LP.

Music: “Remember David”

My favourite track on A Flock of Seagulls’ debut LP is “Messages”--not to be confused with the track of the same name by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark! Moreso than anything else on the album, “Messages” has this aggressive, insistent, driving quality, and feels less like yacht rock, and more like punk rock. Despite not being released as a single, I think it’s a very strong track that’s quite easy to get into. That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Messages”

#music #album review #album reviews #great albums #a flock of seagulls #flock of seagulls

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numeric-value-of-four · 4 years ago

Text

This is a blog for Four from BFB!

I, the owner of the blog (@the-announcing-fox) am not affiliated with the creator. This will only be a blog canon to BFB, with occasional appearances of X, though Four will be the only one here most of the time. Long versions of PERSONALITY and POWERS will be underneath under a tag, where it goes more in-depth.

[ NAME : Four ]

[ GENDER : Genderless. Goes by he/they ]

[ AGE : (non canon) 19 ]

[ PERSONALITY : Sadistic, but has a kind and caring side. He's proven to be somewhat insecure, and wants people to depend on him. ]

[ POWERS : Screechy, Zappies, Advanced-level reality-warping, Gravity manipulation, Shape-shifting, Size manipulation, Brain manipulation, Perspective violation, Controlling and morphing clouds, Earthbending, Physical video conversion, Warping, Malleability, Recovery, Mutilation, Elimination, Inception/Astral projection, Super-speed, Teleportation, Incredible strength, Dismemberment, Flight, Regeneration, Fire resistance (external), Thought manipulation, Intelligence, Airbending, Brain scanning, Incredible hearing, Telekinesis, Despawning, Possession, Assimilation ]

[ PERSONALITY (LONG VER) : Although Four seems to be calm most of the time, they do get angry. Four was well-mannered at one point, however, and didn't screech. But in BFB, they have a mysterious, sadistic personality where they use their powers to harm the contestants just for their fun. Four was shown to want a sense of dominance in the show and gets furious if talked back to or has tasks done for them. When provoked, Four would show no mercy and would even do things such as "dissemble" close friends out of anger, even lacking remorse in the process. Four mistook Nickel's response to calling David and Roboty "the only two non-objects on the team" criticism (which they could not tolerate very well). Four threatens to zap Nickel, with A Better Name Than That's plan being the only thing stopping the attack. Soon enough, Four seemed to be a lot calmer, friendlier, and humbler, most likely because the contestants revived them. They were noticeably less violent than before. After their return, they didn't screech anyone until another episode, adding onto how friendly they became, but will still not hesitate to zap those who bother them. They also declared that they could not allow X to find their treasure because Four must be X's only treasure, signifying that they wants to be necessary to X. "The Escape from Four" shows Four's personality in more depth as well as their possible motivations: they seem to be childish. They act like a control freak because they want everyone to stay with him forever, explaining their narcissism and cruelty when hosting the show. Four throws tantrums when things don't go their way and strongly dislikes being abandoned (possibly due to them losing their playthings) to the point where they cry and refuse to let X console them since they think that X will abandon them too. After the split, Four seems to be nicer to the contestants and shows more personality. Toward the end of the episode, after the split took place and Two took nearly all of the contestants, Taco tells Four that they lost over half of the contestants. Instead of being angry or sad, Four makes light of the situation by saying BFB has "advanced" to its final 14 contestants. In "Uprooting Everything", when it comes to Purple Face asking if he could be a co-host, Four immediately declines, stating they have a better co-host. Four was down about the last four contestants complimenting X's position and saying they were a "good host" than not recuperating the same to Four. In "Chapter Complete", it is shown that they have an insecure side. They get worried that no one likes them as a host and that they would be better off without them. However, at the end, they realized the errors of their ways after hearing that the contestants enjoyed their hosting and has changed from a self-arrogant to a kind-hearted individual, who treats the others better from then onwards. ]

[ POWERS (LONG VER) :

Screechy: Stuns any contestant who's targeted by said screech. It can also generate hearts when Four shows love or excitement towards something, which can fling a contestant as shown with Eraser.

Zappies: Beams that shoot out of their hands and electrocute anybody who is hit by them, making them lose health. Although Four has to seemingly charge up at times (possibly for a longer duration, constant beam), they can also fire them instantly.

Advanced-level reality-warping: Four can create objects such as cakes, buttons, pillars, Paper Planes, Buzzer Boxes, soup, orange dye, and jawbreakers out of thin air. Not only can they revive contestants, but they can also revive them in a place other than their hand, as seen in "Lick Your Way to Freedom" when they revived the contestants in giant jawbreakers, which they also created. Also, as seen with the paper planes in "Fortunate Ben", they can likely manipulate the laws of physics.

Gravity manipulation: Donut, while inhabited by the factor of Four, was able to turn on and off the effects of gravity. This ability can be refined to only affect certain entities, as Donut only manipulated gravity's effects on the Moon. Four was able to crush down a planet-sized Black Hole into a significantly less voluminous state and near nullifying Black Hole's normally intense gravity, allowing Black Hole to compete.

Shape-shifting: As shown in "What Do You Think of Roleplay?", both Four and X can shape-shift, or change their physical appearance. Also, they can change the shape of other characters as well.

Size manipulation: In "Return of the Rocket Ship", Four grows to an absurd size in response to Pillow's criticism. In "Take the Tower", Four grows to a large size when stopping Blocky and creating the towers. In "The Tweested Temple", Four grows to an extremely large size after Four receives Gelatin's cursed totem and declares he is up for elimination.

Brain manipulation: In "What Do You Think of Roleplay?", Four displayed the power to augment and transfer the brains/personalities of the contestants into each other; however, instead of going back to their original bodies, the body that the person's mind was in shape-shifted into that mind's original body.

Perspective violation: Four can violate common 2D perspective laws such as sliding in front of objects on the ground and suddenly switching to behind objects on the ground.

Controlling and morphing clouds: They have used this to time contests that require a time limit to show how much time is currently left. Donut is seen doing this in "Four Goes Too Far", but it's most likely via the "factor of Four".

Earthbending: In "Take the Tower", Four rose their hands up to cause two hills to rise under the team's towers.

Physical video conversion: In "Chapter Complete", the BFDI was revealed to be BFDI and BFDIA converted into a deep-fried box by Four.

Warping: Profily is killed in "Chapter Complete" touching a Four cactus. They ascended, warped, and popped.

Malleability: As seen in "Enter the Exit", "The Four is Lava", and "Take the Tower", Four's body and limbs can stretch to extreme distances and can change shape at will. They can also contract extremely thin in "The Escape from Four".

Recovery: Four replaces the Recovery Centers from previous seasons by using only their hand to recover contestants and numbers, and also teaches X how to master said ability in "B.F.B. = Back From Beginning".

Mutilation: Turns any contestant into an abstract version of themselves, killing them. A harp strum plays in the process.

Elimination: Four replaces the Tiny Loser Chamber and Locker of Losers from previous seasons, by sucking up eliminated contestants or "eating" them. From there, the eliminated contestants are sent to Eternal Algebra Class Withfour (EXIT). EXIT also appears to be an alternate plane of existence, because the contestants probably shrink.

Inception/Astral projection: Four cannot only enter themself to talk to "exitors", but is also able to still do that when they are already inside themself, as shown when they inserted their arm inside themself again to pick up Leafy in "Get to the Top in 500 Steps". Their arm also appeared to be larger than normal, which suggests that anything that enters shrinks (except Four).

Super-speed: Four can fly at extreme speeds, as shown in "Enter the Exit". Also, in "Chapter Complete", when they merge with the Big Rotating Building, they can travel from the Earth to the Sun in approximately 12 seconds, flying at a speed of approximately 45,000,000,000 km/h, or 27,900,000,000 mph.This means that Four can travel almost 42 times the speed of light.

Teleportation: He can teleport whenever a "4" has been played shown in "Today's Very Special Episode". They could also teleport others with a snap of their fingers in "What Do You Think of Roleplay?", "A Taste of Space", "Uprooting Everything", and "Chapter Complete".

Incredible strength: In "Questions Answered", Donut is seen pushing the entire Earth (the Earth's weight is 5.972e+24 kg, or 1.3166e+25 lb) into his camera using only his feet via the factor of Four. This trait also applies to Four's ability to warp reality. Four was also able to stop the FreeSmart Supervan just by putting their hand out, crushing it in the process.

Dismemberment: This happened off-screen when X interrupted Four, who snapped off X's leg. This is unknown to be a power or not, however, as it wasn't known exactly how Four snapped X's leg.

Flight: In "Enter the Exit", Four was able to fly over to the Waterfall to eliminate Roboty.

Regeneration: In "Enter the Exit", when the contestants were recovering Four, they were in a liquidated state up until the point when they were reformed back to normal.

Fire resistance (external): Four is able to stand on the lava and dig their hands into it as well. They were also able to survive standing on the sun and even merging with it without any issue, as shown in "Chapter Complete".

Thought manipulation: During the Cake at Stake in "The Four is Lava", Four displayed the ability to create positive thoughts (or happy thoughts) and send them to the safe contestants of blegh. It is unknown if Four has the ability to create other kinds of thoughts at the moment.

Intelligence: Four can understand Insulavoric (Dora's language), Roboty's Morse code, Teardrop's sign language, and Woody's speech perfectly, even though Insulavoric is supposed to be one of the hardest languages to learn.

Airbending: As shown in "A Taste of Space", Four can give people air, even in the vacuums of space.

Brain scanning: As shown in "Who Stole Donut's Diary?", Four shoots a laser (similar style to Zappies) at X's head and receives their thoughts to find out who stole Donut's diary.

Incredible hearing: As shown in "A Taste of Space" and "Fashion For Your Face!", Four's ears are able to hear from miles away, up to the sun.

Telekinesis: Just like X, Four can make things float by snapping his fingers, as shown in "The Game Has Changed".

Despawning: As shown in "The Game Has Changed", Four can "despawn" a contestant by bringing them off-screen which results in them dying. While the method of how they do it is unknown, we see a white glow where they are despawning them. This ability was further explored later on. As shown in "The Tweested Temple", laser gun sounds play when Four despawned X. This ability was revealed and confirmed later on. As shown in "B.F.B. = Back From Beginning", when X despawned Teardrop, it has been revealed that both Four and X have white laser eyes that make a character look black and completely disappear when it hits them.

Possession: In "Chapter Complete", Four possessed a tree, the courthouse, the High Speed Express Train, the BRB and the sun. When doing so, the things he possesses become blue.

Assimilation: As shown in "B.F.B. = Back From Beginning", Four was able to merge with the Desert and reshape it closer to their own appearance. ]

#BFB #Battle For BFDI #Battle for BFB #BFB Four

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astrovian · 4 years ago

Audio

Richard Armitage interview on BBC Radio Somerset for Uncle Vanya (25/10/20)

Full transcript under cut

Now the moment you’ve all be waiting for, particularly if you’re female – some proper eye-candy on this show okay, not just me. ‘Kay, some proper stardom. Richard Armitage has been in so much television okay, let’s give you a bit of an idea as to what he’s been in over the years. Of course, he started off in North & South back in 2004. He was Lucas North in the British TV drama Spooks. He was in Castlevania, he was in Robin Hood. He’s done so much work for The Royal Shakespeare Company. But for lots of you, you’ll have seen him in Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit. Here’s him talking a little bit about his role.

[Clip from The Hobbit interview – I play a character called Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the last King Under the Mountain. There’s a direct descent from the royal line, which is myself, Thorin, and Fíli and Kíli, who are nephews by my sister]

Now, I’ve never seen The Hobbit, but whenever I think of Richard Armitage, it’s always- he was the guy in the last couple of episodes of The Vicar of Dibley.

[Clip from The Vicar of Dibley]

Brilliant, from Dibley to the valleys of New Zealand. Fantastic. Really pleased we can say we can speak to Richard Armitage on the show this afternoon to talk about his brand new film. Good afternoon, Richard. Thanks for joining us on the Sunday show. How are you?

I’m very good. How are you?

I’m great, thanks. Now, I say good afternoon, but you’re in New York, so it’s good morning to you over there.

Good morning. Yes.

Now you’ve done so much TV and film it’s ridiculous. If I sat here and listed out all the stuff you’ve done, we’d be here all day. However, we’re chatting about the latest one. Am I saying it right – Uncle ‘Van-ya’ or ‘Va-nya’? I’ve always said ‘Va-nya’.

You can say either, I mean a lot of the actors in our play were sort of from the North or from Ireland, and so we were calling him ‘Van-ya’. Sort of has a nicer ring to it, doesn’t it?

Yeah, let’s go with Uncle ‘Van-ya’. Yeah, now this is the-

Uncle ‘Van-ya’.

Now this is on Tuesday, you can see this from Tuesday onwards. Give us a bit of backstory. You were doing this as a play, but then Covid hit and it all had to change, is that right?

Yeah, we were in the middle of a, of a sixteen-week run and we’d-, we got through about ten weeks, and then we came in on a Monday morning and theatres were closed and we, we all had to go home. But it was something that we knew was coming, obviously Broadway had closed the week before us, and uh, so the chance to come back, even in a really still very difficult working environment, to, to sort of re-stage the play for film was something I think we were all incredibly grateful for.

Because not every play’s doing that – lots of plays have closed and we don’t know when they’re gonna re-open. But it must be a great thing to have because not every play was having that, were-, you know some of them were still just waiting for their moment to open up again.

Yes, and I mean National Theatre Live and Digital Theatre, they do film theatre, but they usually do it with a, with an audience in place, and that’s part of the, the thrill of it. But we had to- or, Sonya Friedman and her team had to sort of re-imagine what it might be like without an audience, and so this is a kind of hybrid film really, it-, we’re still in a theatre, but we’re much more kind of involved in the play and the camera comes into the stage and we see a little bit more than a regular production. But yeah, I feel very lucky that we were able to do this.

So it’s not like if you, if we had gone and seen it before it closed we’re obviously sat there looking on, but in this, in this version, the camera’s on the stage with you, you’re pretty much right in with the action, aren’t you?

You’re right in there, and I think that’s one of the, one of the y’know, unusual experiences, that that’s often not possible because you can’t, y’know, disrupt an audience’s viewpoint, so we tend, y’know, we tend to see theatre and hear an audience. Which, we lose the sound of an audience and that was very important with this play because the play is a comedy and y’know, the audience participation is, is really quite important. But it’s still a-, an interesting experience without the audience. In fact, there’s this sort of sadness for the audience’s lack, y’know.

Your character, you’re Astrov, is that right?

Yeah, I am. I’m the doctor.

Tell me a bit about him. What’s he like?

Well, he’s a bit of an outsider to this, to the family. Um, he’s, um, turned to drink because he is traumatised by losing patients, um, he’s working in a, in a region that’s suffering from an epidemic. At the same time, he’s recognising that his small corner of the world is being depleted environmentally, and so he’s, he’s, he’s an environmentalist. He’s planting trees and trying to sort of sustain his natural habitat, and he has a theory as to what, y’know, why people are sick and why our society is sick. And so, in terms of relevance, I think it, it sort of rang a lot of bells. Um, but he, y’know, in terms of his journey through the play, he finds love. Y’know, he talks early on in the play about not feeling anything because he’s been so battered down by his, his work, but he finds love and, um, is rejected. And you know, that’s the tragedy of Chekov, is that everyone’s in love with the wrong person.

And Chekov plays are very well-known, and they’re incredibly written as well. For you as an actor, to say you’re doing Chekov in the West End, or in this case in the cinema, that must be wonderful.

Yeah, it always sounds very kind of, um, highbrow, but Chekov didn’t write that many plays, and he’s also – y’know, he was a doctor as well himself. So there’s always a doctor in his plays. He writes about people, and I think that’s what attracts actors to this work. He doesn’t, he’s not so focused on the plot, he’s very much about the human experience and how we attract and repel each other. And he’s also a great purveyor of comedy and, y’know, finding fun with our, our flaws, and I think people will watch this after living in lockdown for six months, watching these people in a house that can’t get away from each other and are, y’know, ripping shreds, tearing shreds off of each other and, and kind of going out of their heads, and I think audiences will understand what Chekov was all about.

And this is available from Tuesday, unclevanyacinema.com, but you’re over in New York, so are you on the next project already, or are you doing something over there?

No, this is, this is where I, I live when I’m not working. But I’ll be back in, in England next year, I’m working on another Netflix show, so that will be good.

Now, when I said that Richard Armitage was coming on, it was- oh, the ladies, they go mad you know, ‘cause you’re so damn good-looking. And all these people, they’re on about the blimming Hobbit and all that sort of stuff, which is fantastic. But for me, do you know what thrills me most about you?

Go on.

You’re the guy that married Dawn French in The Vicar of Dibley. That’s the first thing that comes to my mind-

*Laugh* I knew you were gonna say that.

I know that for a lot of people it’s The Hobbit, and I know how big those sort of things are, and I know how good this, this new film is, but for me, you say ‘Richard Armitage’, he’s the guy who was nearly cheated on Dawn French.

Thanks for that.

No, not on-

He wasn’t cheatin’ on her.

He wasn’t, but she thought he was. But you’ve done so much-

Maybe they’ll re-run it at Christmas, who knows.

Oh, they re-run it all the time, Vicar of Dibley. Can’t move for it.

Do they?

Oh, they can’t move for it. UK Gold, it’s on every half hour. I hope you’re getting royalties for all these repeats.

I do too! I didn’t know it was on.

Oh, it’s on all the time. On all the time! But when you, when Covid’s out of the way as such, do you go back on stage with this, or has that sort of run its course now as a play, and you’re just gonna, it’s new life is now in the cinema?

I, yeah, I don’t think we’ll get the chance to go back, and I think that’s to do with the theatre is now being handed over to the fantastic David Tennant who’s gonna perform there-

Of course.

And the set is gonna be taken away, so I think this was a last chance to, to sort of discover the, this play. But I’m thrilled it’s on film, y’know. Film is forever, so…

That’s a good thing. I will just- if I don’t do twenty seconds on, twenty seconds on The Hobbit, the people will go mad. Great thing to be involved in, is it still something people ask you about?

It’s massive, I mean it was such a huge part of my life as well. Life-changing, y’know, going to New Zealand and working with one of my cinematic idols, y’know, Peter Jackson and that whole cast was, was phenomenal, and y’know, one of my favourite childhood books, so I, I couldn’t have asked- it was a dream come true really. And I, uh, still have incredible memories of that time.

So, Uncle Vanya, okay, is out from Tuesday, unclevanyacinema.com, but to be honest with you-

.com!

I’ve just been doing some googling, and if you just type in to any search engine ‘Uncle Vanya’, it comes up as the top listing. I mean there’s some great reviews for it as well-

Brilliant! And have you been to the cinema in this time?

I haven’t!

Are you getting out and going?

No, I haven’t been, that’s what I’m thinking, I should go and do it.

Give it a shot! I’ve done it, I did it a few times while I was there, and y’know, if you do obey all the rules and let the cinema take, y’know, do what you’re ‘sposed to do, wear the mask, it’s fine. It feels like normality. I mean, it’s like a Tuesday afternoon when there’s not that many people in there, but it’s still, y’know, still worth it.

I’m not minding that you see, ‘cause you’re guaranteed-

No.

-not to be next to someone who’s gonna be eating their popcorn in your face.

Chewing their popcorn.

Yeah.

Exactly.

That’s it. Or you get the couple in the back getting off with each other. I’m quite glad to be on my own there watching.

*Laugh*

That’s absolutely fine.

Is that what happens in cinemas in Somerset there?

Oh, it does, it does. Not-

*Laugh*

-not as much as I’d like. Well, look, Richard, it’s been a pleasure to speak to you, you are a gentleman, and I’ll give you a big plug again, Uncle Vanya comes out on Tuesday, unclevanyacinema.com, the reviews are great, it’s got five stars everywhere. Thanks so much for your time.

Thanks Andy.

#@netflix give us the show info you cowards #also imagine going to the cinema and richard armitage is just casually sitting near you #richard armitage

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letterboxd · 4 years ago

Photo

Heart Beat.

Minari’s film composer Emile Mosseri (also responsible for the Kajillionaire and The Last Black Man in San Francisco scores) tells Ella Kemp about his A24 favorites, Nicholas Britell’s friendship and the boldest Paul McCartney needle drop in movie history.

What do you think a broken heart sounds like? How about a warm, beating one? It’s something that Emile Mosseri has been thinking about for a while now. The past two years have seen him complete a hat-trick of beguiling, transporting scores for Plan B movies: Joe Talbot and Jimmie Fails’ The Last Black Man in San Francisco, Miranda July’s Kajillionaire and now, the film voted the best of 2020 by our community, Lee Isaac Chung’s Minari.

What binds these scores together is a delicacy that knows when to break free and turn into something altogether spectacular. But on Minari in particular, Mosseri is in full bloom, working for the first time in a way he’d always dreamed about. While The Last Black Man in San Francisco saw him compose to a loose edit, and on Kajillionaire he worked to a locked cut, Chung gave him the freedom to write music directly to Minari’s script. “It was a dream to work this way on Minari,” Mosseri says. “It was so beautifully written and so visceral.”

‘Minari’ composer Emile Mosseri.

Minari is an intimate portrait of a Korean family making their way in rural America, and the composer was interested in “trying to figure out musically how you can feel connected to your deepest childhood memories”. These memories belong, in the film, to David—a tiny king played by eight-year-old Alan Kim—as he comes to terms with his new life on a small farm in Arkansas, as his family strives for their own version of the American Dream.

The Yi family is made up of David and his sister Anne (Noel Kate Cho), their parents Monica (Han Ye-ri) and Jacob (Steven Yeun) and their grandmother, Soon-ja (Youn Yuh-jung). It’s a personal story for Chung, one that Mosseri felt honored to be a part of. “It’s a very intimate story with these five characters, which takes place mostly in this small mobile home—but emotionally, it’s very epic.”

There was something about Chung that had caught Mosseri’s attention early on. “I had met him at the LA premiere of Last Black Man,” Mosseri says, “and I sent him the Kajillionaire score.” Mosseri was already familiar with the filmmaker’s work: “His first film, Munyurangabo, is incredible.” He calls Chung “very open, but also sly” in terms of hitting the right notes and “gently steering the ship”. The partnership between composer and director was about working on “a more emotional level,” Mosseri says. “There was never any talk about what we wanted stylistically.”

The ‘Minari’ ensemble cast.

The result is a film graced with music at once lush and raw, grandiose and vulnerable. Mosseri is keenly aware of these nuances, and always made sure to walk the tonal tightrope in the writing process. “There aren’t sad cues and hopeful cues,” he explains. “Every cue has both feelings. Each musical moment dips in and out of the hopefulness and joy of a family, and then the pain and frustration and dissonance that they hold.”

The way Mosseri’s music swells and flows often feels intangible, magical, even—which comes more from knowing what to avoid, rather than acting with too much forced intention. On his first film, Mosseri brought brass and strings to the streets of San Francisco, and with Miranda July, he worked old Hollywood glamor into the concrete blocks of Los Angeles. Here, we twirl through the tall grass as gentle acoustic guitars and elegant string sections sigh and sway, while the Yi family work through their growing pains.

“We didn’t want to hear Korean music when you see Korean characters, and we didn’t want twangy music when you see an American farm,” Mosseri explains. “We wanted to come at it from the side somehow, in some way that’s unexpected.” ‘Rain’, his collaboration with Minari star Han Ye-ri, which features on the official soundtrack, encapsulates this juxtaposition. It’s an epic lullaby of sorts; Han sings in Korean to a gentle guitar; a pleasing swell of synths climbs alongside her voice. The effect on the listener is as if liquid love is trickling from every vein. “I wanted this score to feel like it had a warm, beating heart.”

youtube

Two of your three feature films to date have been released by A24, and so we must ask: what are your favorite A24 film scores? Emile Mosseri: Three come to mind. First of all, Anna Meredith’s score for Eighth Grade. It’s so adventurous and unexpected and fresh and just brilliant. It’s so pure and out-there. It also does this impossible thing of being hip and exciting and deep, but also hilarious. The pool-party scene fucking kills me.

Then there’s Under the Skin by Mica Levi. I remember seeing that at the Nighthawk theater in Brooklyn and feeling like it was the best score I’d heard in as long as I could remember.

And then of course, Moonlight. That film got under my skin in a way I didn’t see coming. I saw it by myself in a theater, after hearing all the hype for months and months. When a movie has that much hype you can get a bit cynical and it can distract you, so I went in a bit guarded, but I left the film destroyed. For weeks and weeks it resonated with me in a way that was so profound, and a large part of that is due to Nick [Britell]’s music. And the film is just perfection.

Scarlett Johansson in ‘Under the Skin’ (2013), scored by Mica Levi.

You’ve been described as Nicholas Britell’s protégé more than once… It’s funny, I think that came from me being a fan of his and saying nice things about his music. I met him at Sundance two years ago when Last Black Man was premiering. I went with my wife and my brother and I was so excited, I’d been waiting for this moment for so long. We walked in and Nick and Barry [Jenkins] were walking in behind [us]. And there was also Boots Riley, Kamasi Washington… all these people I looked up to. I hadn’t considered that I would see this film in the room with them, and it was the first time I was hearing the final mix and just agonizing.

Nick was incredibly generous and said great things about the score and was super encouraging, and he became a friend and mentor. But I’ve never studied with him or worked with him. Although, if you’re a fan of somebody’s work, you’re a student of any of these composers that you admire. Anything you watch and listen to, you absorb.

What was the first film that made you want to be a composer? It was Edward Scissorhands. Danny Elfman’s score was the first one that made me realize that this was a job. I’m always attracted to big, romantic melodies, and over-the-top sweeping stuff—but done tastefully. In that score, he sets the high-water mark for me. It’s so unapologetically romantic.

And then there are other obvious ones like The Godfather. It’s maybe a dorky choice because it’s the most famous movie ever, but it really is the best. And that got me into Nino Rota, and from there I found [Federico] Fellini and all these movies through Nino, the composer. And then I got really into the score for La Dolce Vita and more movies that he’d written for, which are so beautiful.

The ‘Edward Scissorhands’ (1990) score was an early inspiration for Mosseri.

Which films, new to you, blew you away in 2020? Take Shelter by Jeff Nichols blew me away. It unfolded in a way that was intoxicating and really exciting, and it just really stuck with me.

What’s been your favorite needle drop on screen this year? Aside from Devonté Hynes’ score being stunning, there’s an amazing piece of music placed in an episode of Luca Guadagnino’s We Are Who We Are. They use a Paul McCartney song called ‘Let Em In’, and they dropped it in this incredibly tasteful but unexpected way, in a really dark, emotionally loaded scene. It worked in such a beautiful and graceful way. It’s because it’s the most cheery McCartney, it’s full-blown upbeat and poppy McCartney. And this is the darkest-of-the-dark human pain, and it lands in this way that is such a bold choice, such a powerful move.

What should people listen to after watching Minari? One record I’ve been listening to a lot recently is Jeff Tweedy’s Love is the King. It could be a good companion to Minari. I’m a huge fan of his and it’s a gorgeous record. It’s very stripped-down and emotionally raw, and it’s both hopeful and heartbreaking.

Which filmmakers would you love to work with next? I’m always afraid to answer this question because there are so many filmmakers I admire. There are filmmakers I grew up with loving their films—working with Miranda was that for me. Spike Jonze or Yorgos Lanthimos are directors in her world that I also love and would love to work with. But there’s so many others. Derek Cianfrance is amazing and he works with different composers. I love his choice of collaborators musically. I love that he used the late great Harold Budd to do his shows [including I Know This Much is True], and then Mike Patton, and Grizzly Bear… the music is always incredible in his projects, but he doesn’t have a go-to person. His films are so heartbreaking and powerful and really, really raw. He’s fearless.

I feel very lucky that I’ve worked on these three films which are all very much like somebody’s ripping their heart out and putting it on the screen. I feel like Derek Cianfrance does that in his films too, in this unapologetic, super-vulnerable way of just ripping his soul out and putting it out for everyone to see. It’s incredibly appealing to find those projects, because they’re really rare.

Top New Fantasy Books in April 2021

By Megan Crouse

Lots and lots of special effects tests and approaches, some really cool technology. There was a Noise unit on the film, so Tom would stand in the middle of a circle of cameras capturing him from 360 degrees, linking it up. Then the final results are a combination of all those things: technology, some artwork, some animation. My favorite little bit of it is a scene where Daisy Ridley’s walking up a hill and Tom Holland is behind her, and he’s kinda grumpy about her, and he’s complaining, and you see the complaints kinda just fly off the back of his head. That, to me, is what Noise would be.

Was there anything cut from the book, or an early version of the screenplay, that you would have loved to have seen?

One of my favorite characters in the book is called Wilf; and he does play an important part later in the trilogy, as well. But it’s a 500-page book, and at most a movie is a long short story, so you do have to make sacrifices. But what you get in exchange is, there’s a scene in the film where Tom and Daisy are under a little tarp in the rain, and something very funny happens. And that’s not in the book, but what you get in exchange is something like that, a little scene that expresses a ton that you can do visually, because [that scene] wouldn’t work in a book. I don’t mind; you give and you get. I’ve always viewed adaptations, even when it’s not my own work, as a remix. It’s not a cover version, it’s not an exact replica, it’s a remix. If I can start with that premise, then I can feel more creative.

Was there ever a version in which Todd’s dog Manchee has the Noise, like in the book?

Yes! But what you find out very quickly is that it’s all kind of about real estate. The animal Noise is very funny in the book, to me—it always made me laugh—and in a massive novel of 110,000 words, that real estate in the book doesn’t take up much. A movie is much more compressed, so every time an animal spoke, it just took up so much room in the movie. And it is funny, because it’s meant to be, but it kind of unbalanced the story, and it totally took away from what really needed to happen. Read the book, is what I would say, because I still love the idea, it still makes me laugh; but in a movie, it becomes too cartoon-y. We’re not making The Incredible Journey, as wonderful as it is! So you have to make some sacrifices.

The movie ends differently from the book, which is more of a clear cliffhanger setting up book 2, The Ask and the Answer; whereas the movie is left open-ended for sequels, but on a less dire note. What influenced this decision?

Doug Liman is an exploratory filmmaker; it’s a different approach than any director I’ve ever met. He’s really very much about what’s happening on set, what feels the right energy, where are we going—which is why there’s additional photography in all of his films. That’s always planned, it’s always in advance; we always knew that was going to happen, we just had to schedule the two biggest franchise stars in the world. But because of that, the story tends to organically develop. So we thought, Where are these two going in particular now that we have these actors, we have this situation, and it just starts to slightly change.

And I don’t mind that—again, in the remix idea—but what it interestingly has done is that it’s become more pandemic-themed, unintentionally, in that here are all these people who have been presented with a situation completely beyond their control, so how do they adapt? And there is a hopeful feeling at the end of this film, one I think is true, because they’ve really earned it, but also it’s like what we’ve done—we’re talking via Zoom, we’ve adjusted. It’s not perfect, and we’re all waiting for a better world, but we’re also probably not gonna go back to the old world, exactly. We’ve found a way, and that is kinda the whole point of the story, which is, here is the very worst example of people who didn’t find a way, as we move forward to people who do. To me, the ending makes emotional sense.

Are there plans to adapt one or both of the book sequels?

They’re optioned, they’re ready, but with a new series it’s all about if an audience wants it.

How did your experience adapting the screenplay for A Monster Calls influence your work on Chaos Walking?

Very different filmmakers, which is interesting because I always tell people writing novels that there’s no one way to do it—as long as you end up with a novel, you’ve done it right, so find out what works for you. So, a very different experience as a writer, but interesting in their own ways.

Books

Top New Science Fiction Books in April 2021

By Megan Crouse

The great thing about [A Monster Calls director] J.A. Bayona is a real lack of ego about ideas; an idea is good or it’s bad, it doesn’t matter who or where it came from. He’s very clear on that, he’s very sincere about that, and that really frees you up creatively. And so I really try to bring that to anything I collaborate on now; I try to never ever be any kind of snob about my ideas or anybody else’s—it’s just what’s better, what works; an idea is good or bad on its own, not because it came from somebody powerful. I think it makes everybody feel more comfortable; we’re all in it together, trying to make something interesting.

What was it about Daisy, Tom, Mads, et al, that made you feel that they were right for the roles in Chaos Walking? Mads in particular has such a striking look as Mayor Prentiss, with the cowboy hat, jumpsuit, and fabulous fur coat.

That coat is actually a tribute to McCabe & Mrs. Miller, a Warren Beatty Western from Robert Atlman. It’s interesting that they’re all European! We didn’t go out hunting for necessarily European, but also Cynthia [Erivo] is European, and David’s European. Nick [Jonas] is not… [laughs] But there is a sensibility that feels approachable to Tom and Daisy, that I think is their little movie-star magic, that they are not forbidding. Forbidding movie stars can be amazing! But they seem like somebody that you could meet, and talk to; and for a younger-centered film, that is vital, to feel like these could be my friends, and I care about them and am worried about what happens to them. That is what they bring so beautifully to the movie. And Mads has that magnificent face—he’s got such a great acting face, especially for a villain—and his manner, the sort of Scandinavian understatements, I love it.

Especially for a villain who’s trying to hide his thoughts—there’s so much still that comes through on his face.

A villain who thinks he’s right! He doesn’t think he’s a villain—and that’s the scariest kind of all.

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Chaos Walking is available for premium rental at home on all digital platforms from 2nd April.

The post “We Have Just Never Listened to Women”: Patrick Ness on Chaos Walking’s Relevance Today appeared first on Den of Geek.

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zerogate · 5 years ago

Text

The late David Bowie was asked if his inspiration included dreams and he stated it happened frequently: "There's a thing that, just as you go to sleep, if you keep your elbows elevated you will never go below the dream stage. I've used that quite a lot and it keeps me dreaming much longer than if I just relaxed. I keep a tape recorder by the bed, and if anything comes, I just say it into the tape recorder."

Arlo Guthrie, an American folk singer and songwriter, once said that music was like a stream going by. "Songwriting's kinda like catching fish - you just sit there and pull them out as they go by - though I think Bob Dylan's upstream from me somewhere."

"The best songs that are written write themselves," said Michael Jackson. "You don't ask for them; they just drop into your lap... I don't force it. I let nature take its course. I don't sit at the piano and think, 'I'm going to write the greatest song of all time.' It doesn't happen. It has to be given to you. I believe it's already up there before you are born, and then it drops right into your lap."

[...]

Some of the stories about dream music are so bizarre they just couldn't be made up. Consider the story of "Mystery Woman" written by U2's Bono. As Bono tells the story he is about to play a major concert in Wembley Stadium and was not able to sleep the night before. He stayed up most of the night watching the movie Blue Velvet on repeat and became aware of Roy Orbison's song "In Dreams" every time it came up in the movie. Orbison, himself, claimed that when he came up with the song "In Dreams" in 1962, he got the lyrics to the song in a dream. Eventually, Bono fell asleep and woke up with a song in his head. At first, he believed it was another Orbison song but then realized that it was new. He played the new Orbison-sounding song about a "mystery woman" to his band during the concert sound check. When they heard how it happened they told him he had "a bit of voodoo in him." When the concert was over, Bono sat down backstage to finish the song. Suddenly, his bodyguard knocks on the door and says Roy Orbison and his wife were at the concert and would like to meet him. No one knew Orbison would be attending! During the meeting, Orbison synchronistically said he would like to work with U2, and then asked, "you wouldn´t happen have a song for me?" Bono then told him of the Orbison-like song that appeared in his head that morning. Orbison sang the song and it was released after his death. The album, Mystery Girl became a worldwide hit reaching #5 on the US Billboard 200, and #2 on the UK Albums Chart.

[...]

Noel Gallagher of the UK rock band Oasis sold the third best-selling record in the country. Gallagher stated he used lucid dreaming to create songs. "I write a song before I go to bed," Noel told Alternative Press in December 1995. "I won't have any lyrics, just a melody. If I can remember it first thing in the morning, then I know it's good. I've done it with 'Don't Look Back in Anger' and nearly every song on Definitely Maybe. When I woke up, I remembered the songs chord-for-chord - I knew the vowels and syllables I was gonna use."

[...]

The claims for dream music go back for centuries. Mozart claimed to hear his best music when he slept but couldn't remember it when he woke up. The composer Revel stated that the most wonderful music came to him in his dreams. Anton Bruckner spoke of perhaps his most famous piece “Symphony No 7, 1st movement." “This theme wasn't mine at all. One day the (deceased) conductor Kitzler and old friend of mine from Linz appeared to me in a dream and dictated the thing to me. I wrote it down straight away. 'Pay attention,' added Kitzler, ‘this will bring you success.'"

[...]

Probably the most famous song that came in a dream was the song "Yesterday" by Paul McCartney. It has the most cover versions of any song ever written (2200) and, according to record label BMI, was performed over seven million times in the 20th century. McCartney described a song being his head when he woke up one morning. There was a piano in the room and he quickly recorded the melody and lyrics. McCartney stated:

I woke up with a lovely tune in my head. I thought, 'That's great, I wonder what that is?' There was an upright piano next to me, to the right of the bed by the window. I got out of bed, sat at the piano, found G, found F sharp minor 7th -- and that leads you through then to B to E minor, and finally back to E. It all leads forward logically. I liked the melody a lot, but because I'd dreamed it, I couldn't believe I'd written it. I thought, 'No, I've never written anything like this before.' But I had the tune, which was the most magic thing!

Once he had the song McCartney was still unsure so he checked around to see if he had just rewritten something he heard but had forgotten.

For about a month I went around to people in the music business and asked them whether they had ever heard it before. Eventually, it became like handing something into the police. I thought if no-one claimed it after a few weeks then I could have it.

[...]

Marcus Eoin from the band Boards of Canada wrote the song "Gyroscope" which came in a dream. He stated, "Yeah for me it would be the track 'Gyroscope'. I dreamed the sound of it, and although I've recreated dreamt songs before, I managed to do that one so quickly that the end-result was 99% like my dream. It spooks me to listen to it now."

[...]

Carole King was a prolific singer-songwriter with over 25 solo albums in 50 years. Her highlight album was the 1971 masterpiece Tapestry, which topped the charts for six weeks and remained on the charts for six years. It outsold The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album and included the iconic 1972 Grammy song of the year "You've Got a Friend." Speaking of that song King said, "That song was as close to pure inspiration as I've ever experienced. The song wrote itself. It was written by something outside of myself through me. It happens from time to time in part. That song is one of the examples of that process where it was almost completely written by inspiration and very little if any perspiration."

[...]

On May 6, 1965, in Clearwater, Florida, while on their first U.S. tour, according to a St. Petersburg Times article, about 200 young fans got in an altercation with a line of police officers at the show, and The Stones made it through just four songs as chaos ensued. That night, Keith Richards woke up in his hotel room with the guitar riff and lyrics, "Can't get no satisfaction" in his head. He recorded it on a portable tape deck, went back to sleep, and brought it to the studio that week. The tape contained his guitar riff followed by the sounds of him snoring. Richards stated, "We receive our songs like inspiration, like at a séance. People say they write songs, but in a way, you are more the medium. I feel that all the songs are floating around, and it is just a matter of being like an antenna, of whatever you pick up. So many uncanny things have happened to us. A whole new song appears from nowhere in five minutes, the whole structure and you haven't worked at all."

[...]

Beethoven - "I must accustom myself to think out at once the whole, as soon as it shows itself, with all the voices, in my head." He used sketchbooks to write down his ideas when they flew into his head so as to not forget them. "Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy." "Music is the one incorporeal entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends mankind, but which mankind cannot comprehend." "Music is the mediator between the life of the senses and the life of the spirit." "Tones sound, and roar and storm about me until I have set them down in notes."

-- Grant Cameron, Tuned-In: The Paranormal World of Music

#quotes

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your-angle-of-music · 4 years ago

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Anyone want my playlist for my dream cast version of The Phantom of the Opera?

Coming right up!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGFe3xKBIJQ&list=PLyXOfYb8cpfkWW_8EO-XHO2MIBFLMevmn

To my knowledge, this has all the songs that count as songs, but as always, I welcome other people’s additions or suggestions!

Check out under the cut for the list of songs and actors, and my notes and explanations for each of them. Enjoy!

1. Prologue/Overture - Barry Clark as the Auctioneer, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Rosemary Ashe as Carlotta (Original Broadway)

To be honest, I was never too fond of this long prologue, which is never relevant again and reveals very little about the characters’ future. Clark’s Auctioneer does create a properly grand feel, and Barton’s Raoul does sound heartbroken, but what I’m really here for is that epic, bombastic, beautiful overture. No matter how many times I hear it, it will never stop being exhilarating. This track also features the Hannibal opera part. Ashe’s Carlotta sounds deliciously dramatic and her high note on “Rome” treads that line between impressive and annoying perfectly.

2. Think of Me - Katie Hall as Christine Daae, Angela Caesar as Carlotta, Simon Bailey as Raoul de Chagny (UK Tour)

God, I love Caesar’s Carlotta. She takes her time with all her lines, to excellent effect, and her “spare a thought for me” is both genuinely pretty and utterly distinct from Hall’s Christine’s. I also adore the alternating weepiness and shoutiness she puts into her “these things do happen” tirade, and you can hear her clapping during “all the time!”. And then her “this thing does not happen!” is gloriously over-the-top. Meanwhile, Hall’s Christine’s voice is so lovely here. I appreciate how quietly she starts out, barely audible, and then how sweet her voice is once she gets more confident on “that oh so distant day.” She sounds pure and innocent but yet still clearly classically trained, and damn, she can project. I love the way she sings “think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned” especially. And then that final “think of me” cadenza is perfect. She makes the high notes seem effortless and they’re buttery smooth. Bailey’s Raoul also makes an excellent first impression.

3. Angel of Music - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Janet Devenish as Meg Giry, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

We start of strong with Crawford’s Phantom’s absolutely haunting “bravi, bravi, bravissimi.” And then I adore Devenish’s Meg — she has such a pure, clear, young voice that sounds perfect for her role. Devenish makes this the best version of this song in my opinion, even though I prefer the new lyric ““I watched your face from the shadows / distant through all the applause. / I hear your voice in the darkness, / yet the words aren’t yours” to the one that Devenish’s Meg sings here, “Christine, you must have been dreaming, / stories like this can’t come true. / Christine, you’re talking in riddles, / and it’s not like you” (because come on now, talking in riddles is one of Christine’s defining personality traits). Brightman’s Christine sounds gorgeous on the high notes, especially when she sings softly, and I love her on her “father once spoke of an angel” part.

4. Little Lotte/The Mirror - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

Barton’s Raoul will always be my favorite. There’s a sweetness and a warmth to his voice that makes him always seem likable, when other musical Raouls seem patronizing or boring or manipulative or dumb. I like the mischievous, flirtatious note in Brightman’s Christine’s “you remember that too.” And most of all, I like Crawford’s Phantom’s powerful “insolent boy!” that manages to sound both scary and strangely far-off and echoey — I’d believe he was an angel too. And then the gentleness in his “flattering child, you shall know me” seems more book accurate and likable to me. Crawford has a unique quality to his voice that makes me love his rendition of the “angel of music” motif the best of any actor’s. I am a little sorry that the end of Barton’s cry of “angel” gets cut off in this recording, though.

5. The Phantom of the Opera - Michael Crawford as the Phantom, Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae (Original Broadway)

Brightman’s Christine might not be the strongest, acting-wise, but vocally? She has the range, darlings. She sings the soft, low beginning of this song and the piercing, high end of it with the same facility — I mean, just listen to that last high E. It sounds effortless. And everything in between is good too; her first “the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind” has a breathtakingly haunting quality. Crawford’s Phantom is also very good with the high notes. I just love the way he sings the words “my power over you grows stronger yet” and “in all your fantasies, you always knew” almost too airily, and of course every time he sings “phantom,” it’s powerful enough to give me chills. And I love how soft he is on his first few rounds of “sing for me.”

6. The Music of the Night - Earl Carpenter as the Phantom (London 2006)

This is one of the few tracks on here that I have video for, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Everything about Carpenter’s Phantom’s body language really makes this song for me, in addition to his positively angelic voice. Carpenter embodies the version of the Phantom that I know from the novel, hesitant and gentle even though he’s...Like That, and he manages to make “The Music of the Night” really seem like a love song. I appreciate that he remains so quiet for so much of the beginning, almost inaudible with your computer’s volume turned up less than a third, and the sweetness he puts into the phrase “night unfurls its splendor.” Also that little hand block he does on “tremulous and tender” and the way he never quite touches Christine during “turn your face away from the garish light of day” makes me Feel Things. The crescendo fakeout he does on “close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams” is masterful, as is his high note on “soar” and the way he turns his masked side away from Christine’s hand on “the darkness of the music of the night” and...oh God, we’re only three minutes in. But he’s not just soft and sweet; his “let your soul take you where you long to be” is strong and powerful. I really, really like how he keeps his distance even when he has his arm around her, and the way he stops her hand during “savor each sensation.” Christine’s faint looks weird, because it always does, because it’s really dumb, but I appreciate that Carpenter actually catches her — and looks a small bit panicked about it. And then when he strokes her hair and sings that last “night” the softest and purest of all...perfection.

7. I Remember/Stranger Than You Dreamt It - John Owen-Jones as the Phantom, Rachel Barrell as Christine Daae (London 2005)

Another one with video! And oh boy, what a video. First of all, Barrell’s Christine has a very cool and interesting voice, and I love the way she sings “on the lake there was a boat, and in the boat there was a man,” delicate and unsure, before you can hear her steeling her courage on “who was that shape in the shadows?” I’m equally happy with the way JOJ’s Phantom snarls out that “you little lying Delilah! you little viper!” while still making it sound good, and that over-the-top, extremely JOJ final “damn you! curse you!” that ends in a sob ‘n growl, because if there’s ever a show to be melodramatic in, it’s Phantom. And then his hissed out “stranger than you dreamt it” and the fact that he keeps his hand over his face the entire time makes it perfect. His wounded-animal-style crawling starting on “fear can turn to love” and the roughness and pain and prettiness in his voice reminds me a lot of Erik’s characterization in the novel, as is his sobbed “oh, Christine!” right afterwards, and his “those two fools who run my theater will be missing you!” is believably scary.

8. Magical Lasso - Janos Kurucz as Joseph Buquet, Mary Millar as Madame Giry (Original Broadway)

It’s such a small song, but I really love the unique quality to Kurucz’s Buquet’s voice, as well as the anxiety in Millar’s Madame Giry’s “heat of his eyes.”

9. Notes/Prima Donna - Rosemary Ashe as Carlotta, John Savident as Monsieur Firmin, David Firth as Monsieur Andre, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Mary Millar as Madame Giry, Janet Devenish as Meg Giry, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

This song is way more of a bop than it has any right to be. I absolutely adore Savident’s Firmin and Firth’s Andre, with their humor and their bluster and their old married husbands vibes. I love that overpowering “damnable!” and that long-suffering sigh on “Wrote. Written.” All the indignant drama that Ashe’s Carlotta brings is delightful in every way, especially on her high Italian parts and that “it’s no use trying to appease me, you’re only saying this to please me.” Crawford’s Phantom’s “one last chance” is chilling, and I like how pretty his sound is here — it’s way creepier than growly anger. The “Prima Donna” section is just such a gorgeous melody, really, and Savident and Firth have such rich, lovely voices. And Barton’s Raoul is also amazing; his “is this her angel of music” especially is so gorgeous. I do wish I could hear Millar’s Madame Giry a little bit more clearly, but I love her voice. And Ashe’s last “once more” high note is really quite breathtaking, as is Crawford’s “a disaster beyond your imagination will occur.“ This recording also features a section of Il Muto that will overlap a little bit with the next track — sorry about that.

10. Il Muto - Kim Stengel as Carlotta, Elizabeth Loyacano as Christine Daae, Howard McGillin as the Phantom (Broadway 2008)

There’s some video for this one, which is good, because all the actors are hilarious. This Raoul...sounds like a bit of an asshole, but to be fair, the script shoves him pretty firmly into that role. I can’t find the name of the actor who plays the Count anywhere, but he is perfect. I love the way he holds that “observe her” note, and his hammy self-awareness in doing so. The real MVP here is Stengel’s Carlotta, with all her imperiousness and her high notes and her dramatic nervous laughter and the way she bosses around Christine and the conductor. And her croaking. The croaking is perfect, especially when she does it offstage. Loyacano’s Christine doesn’t have too much to do in this scene, but her kissing in time is amazing. Same for McGillin’s Phantom, although I like how quiet and genuinely amused he is on his “perhaps it is you who are the toad” as well as his maniacal laughter when he kills Buquet. Actually, the whole ballet section is perfectly executed (although I’m not much of an expert on dancing).

11. Why Have You Brought Us Here/All I Ask of You - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

Brightman’s Christine is wonderful here, sounding properly hysterical on “and in this labyrinth, where night is blind” and “Raoul, I’ve been there” and beautiful and sad on the “yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world” bit. And did I mention that I love Barton’s Raoul? Because I do. I really, really do. The beginning of this song can make Raoul look. Really bad. But this one manages to pull it off, sounding so concerned and so utterly in love. When he sings “no more talk of darkness” and “let me be your shelter, let me be your light” his voice sounds so soft and warm and gentle and my God, you can hear the smile and the hug, and then his “then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime” is urgent and soaring and lovely. Brightman matches his energy, and she has a lovely, delicate voice that balances perfectly with his. Her “say the word and I will follow you” sounds so tender and there’s a gorgeous intensity in her “say you love me.” Their last “love me, that’s all I ask of you” is sweet and soft, and I love the lightness in Brightman’s “I must go” and of course the warm solidity in Barton’s “Christine, I love you” that sets up the contrast that will absolutely make me cry later. Crawford’s Phantom is perfect too, right from that first haunting, echoing “Christine” at the beginning. He sounds vulnerable and almost disbelieving and on “I gave you my music” and the last repetitions of “Christine,” and that “Go!” is TERRIFYING.

12. Entr’acte - John Savident as Monsieur Firmin, David Firth as Monsieur Andre (Original Broadway)

I don’t have that many feelings about which orchestra in particular preforms this, but I definitely want to include it. I do adore Webber’s score and the switches between the different melody motifs are pretty awesome. Fair warning, though, that it does include the very beginning of “Masquerade” but cuts off in the middle of “I must say, all the same, that it’s a shame that Phantom fellow isn’t here,” which frustrates me to no end.

13. Masquerade - Anna O’Byrne as Christine Daae, Alexander Lewis(???) as Raoul de Chagny (Australia 2009)

Another song with video! And it’s good quality too, highlighting the colorfulness of this scene. O’Byrne’s Christine and Lewis’ Raoul enter at “who can name the face,” and they’re graceful dancers, and everyone reflects the high energy of the scene, especially on the quiet verse. O’Byrne’s Christine sounds young here, but in a good way, and quite scared on “you promised me,” and Lewis lets his Raoul be exasperated on “it’s an engagement, not a crime” — it feels like they’ve had this argument many times before. The part where Christine and Raoul get separated feels genuinely suspenseful, and I really love the lighting just before the Phantom’s entrance.

14. Why So Silent? - Earl Carpenter as the Phantom (London 2005 - 2007)

I do love Carpenter’s Phantom because he’s sweet, but sometimes I love him because he’s really, really scary. There’s video for this bit so we can all admire his Red Death costume and the lighting to match. He stays creepily quiet for the beginning, so that his “remember there are worse things than a shattered chandelier” and his “your chains are still mine! you will sing for me!” are all the more powerful.

15. Notes/Twisted Every Way - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, John Savident as Monsieur Firmin, David Firth as Monsieur Andre, Mary Millar as Madame Giry, Rosemary Ashe as Carlotta (Original Broadway)

Honestly, Ashe’s Christine is one of the best parts of this song. The way she sings “outrage!” and “ha! here’s our little flower” and the way she absolutely snarls “she’s the one behind this, Christine Daae!” is perfection. She’s also brilliant in the “Don Juan Triumphant” rehearsal. Savident’s Firmin and Firth’s Andre are wonderful as usual, and Barton’s Raoul manages to sound gentle and good in a script that is not kind to the character here — his “you don’t have to, they can’t make you” and “you said yourself, he was nothing but a man” and “every hope and every prayer rests on you now“ are lovely. Millar’s Madame Giry sounds frail and scared and determined (I love her “monsieur, be careful, we have seen him kill”) and she reminds me a lot of her characterization in the novel, and Crawford’s Phantom is deliciously creepy in his letter, and I adore his almost sighing sound on phrases like “an office not the arts” and “her teacher.” His “your obedient friend” gives me chills. Brightman’s Christine also shines here. I actually like the quiet almost-shrillness in her “how dare you” because it sounds like she’s been trying to do what she’s supposed to all along but she’s beginning to snap under the stress, and same goes for her “I’ll go mad!” which sounds genuine and spontaneous. Her “twisted every way” section is haunting and haunted and ethereally beautiful and I could listen to it all day. This recording also includes the beginning of “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,” so heads up about that.

16. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again - Leila Benn Harris as Christine Daae (London 2008)

There’s some video for this one, but the quality isn’t great — sorry about that. Harris’ Christine, however, is extremely great. Her voice contains sweetness and sadness and trauma and anger all at once and her dynamics are just perfection. The way she sings “that voice which calls to me and speaks my name” provokes instant goosebumps every time, and then the softness in her “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing” is brilliant. The fierce anger in her “sculpted angels, cold and monumental” is what really made me fall in love with Harris’ rendition. And that strength and power in her “why can’t the past just die” and then the softness and clearness in “help me say goodbye” with the last ringing, gorgeous high note. God, she is perfect, isn’t she.

17. Wandering Child/Bravo, Monsieur - Michael Crawford as the Phantom, Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny (Original Broadway)

Hands down, this song, at least the first half, is my favorite in the show, and these three singers’ voices pull it off perfectly. Brightman’s Christine has such a delicate voice that sounds so lovely with the two lower ones, and she puts so much gentleness and sadness into that “angel or father, friend or phantom, who is it there staring?” and she sounds beautiful and tortured on that “Angel of Music, I denied you, turning from true beauty.” Her acting on “oh, Raoul!” and “Raoul, come back!” is...not the best, but her singing makes it well worth it to me. And Crawford’s Phantom sounds, well, like an angel. There’s such a strangeness and sadness and beauty in his voice. The way he sings “have you forgotten your angel?” is lovely and soft, and I just love how he says “far from my far-reaching gaze” (and I also love the lyric itself; I think it’s really creepy when later Phantoms change it to “fathering gaze”). And his “turning from true beauty” and “come to your strange angel” are powerful and perfect in every way. His “I am your Angel of Music, come to me, Angel of Music” is properly hypnotic, and I like the steadiness of it amidst Christine’s and Raoul’s panic. And speaking of Raoul, Barton kills it with all of his harmonies, and there’s genuine worry in his deliciously soft “once again she is his, once again she returns” and in his loud and long and powerful “luring her back from the grave.” Crawford’s and Barton’s “bravo, monsieur” exchange sounds properly scary, and I almost like how over-the-top Crawford is being compared to Barton’s relative calmness — they are just on such different pages, emotionally, and are assessing the situation in completely different ways. This recording also gets into the beginning of “The Point of No Return,” or rather “Don Juan Triumphant,” and it sounds...demonic is the best word I can think of, honestly, but that is definitely a good thing. I’m not too fond of Brightman’s Christine or Crawford’s Phantom in this part, but I do appreciate their excellent voices as always.

18. The Point of No Return - Ramin Karimloo as the Phantom, Sierra Boggess as Christine Daae (25th Anniversary)

Unpopular opinion, perhaps bordering on life-threatening: I’m generally not that into Karimloo’s portrayal of the Phantom. His voice is just a bit too smooth for me, too glamorous and sexy, not an eerie Crawford or an angelic Carpenter or a tortured JOJ, and his acting usually reflects that side of him a bit too much for the Phantom I know. But in this song? It works. Holy everloving fuck, it works. I love the way he says “no backward glances” and “what warm unspoken secrets will we learn” Boggess’ Christine is absolutely mesmerizing here too — her high notes on “you have brought me” and her vibrato on “our passion play has now at last begun” and the huskiness of her “past the point of right or wrong” are brilliant in every way. I’m especially glad that I have video for this song, because these two really make it with their body language. The way Boggess’ Christine springs up and bolts away just before her “you have brought me” line and, of course, Karimloo’s Phantom’s shaking hands on “until we’re one” are perfect. And then, after Boggess’ Christine’s realization that it’s the Phantom she’s singing with at “consume us,” their dynamic is perfect, with Karimloo’s growling determination and Boggess’ anger and fear, both expressed perfectly in their “so stand and watch it burn.” I love the way their “return”s are out of sync after Boggess’ Christine reveals the Phantom’s mask, and the way Karimloo spits out his “-turn” like a challenge. And then the tenor sweetness and intensity of his “say you’ll share with me” can just about break me every time, yet it also sounds properly distinct from Raoul’s earlier version, like with the fiercely desperate edge to his “one lifetime,” and his “anywhere you go let me go too” almost has a different melody. And then I think his snarling and “no”ing when Christine unmasks him at the end is...a little much, but still very on-brand. Oh, and there’s like ten seconds of silence at the end of this recording, just to warn you.

19. Down Once More/The Final Lair - John Owen-Jones as the Phantom, Katie Hall as Christine Daae, Simon Bailey as Raoul de Chagny (UK Tour)

I love this production so, so much, and I wish I had video for it, because nothing exemplifies its understanding of the characters like the staging of The Kiss — instead of the standard staging, in which Christine kisses the Phantom, then hugs him, then kisses him again with more enthusiasm, in this production, Hall’s Christine kisses JOJ’s Phantom once, and then he falls to his knees and she hugs him as he sinks into her and then pushes her away. But I’m here for the audio, too. We start of strong with JOJ’s Phantom’s “into darkness deep as hell!” which he holds for an amazingly long time in this voice of beautiful despair, followed by a properly tortured “why, you ask, was I bound and chained” section. His “a mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing” is heartwrenching, and his “monsieur, I bid you welcome” section is chilling. Despite his awesomeness, I might still need to hand the MVP award to Hall’s Christine, who carries an anger and defiance into this scene that I rarely see in other Christines that you can hear in her “am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh” and her “it’s in your soul that the true distortion lies” and of course her iconic “tears of hate.” And Bailey’s Raoul is compelling, and his “free her!” and “I did it all for you and all for nothing” are wonderfully delivered. In the frantic part where all three characters sing at the same time, their voices are balanced perfectly. I absolutely adore JOJ’s Phantom’s “for either way you choose you cannot win” and Bailey’s Raoul’s “why make her lie to you to save me” and Hall’s Christine’s “Angel of Music, you deceived me.” JOJ’s Phantom’s “you try my patience, make your choice!” is scary but not deafening, and then comes the tender perfection of Hall’s Christine’s “pitiful creature of darkness” (although I wish there was a slightly longer pause before it” and her angelic “alone” and God, I love them all. Hall’s little “no please” when she sees the Phantom approaching Raoul is an excellent detail, and JOJ’s “angel in hell” sounds desperate and almost childlike. I wish his “go now and leave me” wasn’t quite so loud — my throat hurts just thinking about it, but then his “Christine, I love you.” Oh my God, that “Christine, I love you.” I think stabbing me in the heart would be less painful. And I love the lightness and gentleness of Hall’s and Bailey’s final “All I Ask of You” reprise. Yeah. I adore this production, and I adore this show.

Thank you for stopping by! I’d be happy to talk about these choices or Phantom in general with anyone, any time :)

#poto #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #phantom #angle o speak

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merife · 5 years ago

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— mayday

pairing: Jotaro Kujo x Reader

summary: he's alive, you're alive, everyone around you is alive, but there's still not enough air.

word count: 5483

02. of (not)healed wounds

As soon as you open the door to the apartment, the party, which seemed non-existent, appears in all its glory. A couple of people kissing passionately break away from each other: they have dissatisfied look, but their eyes narrowed more at the bright light from the corridor than Oisin and you, that violated an atmosphere of intimacy in the hallway between someone's bags, jackets and other discarded in a fit of passion things. And will it really help you? How can a noisy gathering of strangers help at all?.. [it can. By making the memories of the past flow away and the moments of the present expand even more, it can]

His hand doesn't let go of yours — the path from the entrance to the next room without light on the floor covered with things is inconvenient, but there is no other choice. You stumble a couple of times — yourheart jumps a little in the chest and immediately returns to its place, and the support in the form of Oisin's hand saves you from falling. In the central room, only a pair of lava lamps can distinguish silhouettes, giving off an orange colour on the walls and faces. It seems that you saw a similar one once upon a time in the attic of parent's house among the rest of the trash, but you never dragged it to your room. The smell of alcohol — especially ethanol — mixed with a mix of cigarettes and something else, more organic, but burnt, makes the air feel sticky. It's something you thought you'd never feel again. In a similar way, you used to get together with your friends at one of their homes when their parents were away and you started playing board games, secretly getting alcohol that you would buy with fake documents, so that you could have a heart-to-heart chat. Back then, you had almost no secrets from each other, so everyone just shared present experiences. And you haven't remembered an evening with them for a long time. They must be doing good now. It can't be any other way. You'd even call them if there was anyone else's number — oh, right, you can ask your mother the next time she contacts you.

"Here," Weaver says, handing you a red disposable cup with probably something diluted in it. When did he leave and come back? Oisin quickly clinks his glass with yours and drinks a good half of it. You take a very small sip: cola on the tongue is not different from the usual, but most likely there is something stronger in it. Plan is not to get drunk to oblivion today, you just need to try to relax and unwind. You've been on these parties before, this time nothing should be different, "there are a couple of people I'd like you to meet", but you don't need any contacts- "and I know what you're thinking, but you still need to chat with someone besides me," apparently, the displeasure on your face, he learned to read almost faultlessly. Not a bad skill, Oisin. Next time, shove it away.

"Since you know me so well, why don't you just talk to everyone for me?" you smile sarcastically, and Weaver just nudges you playfully, encouraging you, only to grab your free hand and lead you on. People on your path don't pay attention to you — there's no malice or secret intent in their eyes, which allows you to relax a little, straighten your shoulders, unconsciously hunched in a physical attempt to close. Nothing bad will happen. Here's Oisin, which means that you are not in danger [here's Oisin; this is not Jotaro, this is not Kakyoin — there is no aura of anxiety around him, and you have never felt such pain around him].

Oisin says something: his speech is mixed with David Bowie songs and noisy exclamations from different sides, and you can't pick out a word, so all that remains is keep looking at his neck, where the hairline begins. Why is he deals with you? More precisely, why is he still deals with you?

Brown hair stops. Oisin brakes sharply, you catch this action a little later than you should and stumble into the air, spilling a few drops of cocktail on the already dirty floor. And then you catch a couple of keen interested glances at yourself.

"This is Marina and Leslie," guy tilts his head to you and smiles, waiting for your reaction to... Two girls who interrupted the conversation to turn all their attention to you. Marina smiles cautiously: her eyes are not aggressive, but she seems to be waiting for something from you. Doesn't trust immediately — and that’s fair. She has beautiful hair with a hint of ginger, which may be real, or may be a consequence of the red colour spreading around the room. And from her appearance, you can safely say that Marina is unlikely to have problems more than a couple of bad grades. It would be nice if this is true. The last thing you want to find in someone else is suffering, because today version of you, real version of you — can't help people who hide their moral pain. All you have left is stand's magic and Oisin's quick-healing bruises.

Leslie, for her part, resemble like the average head girl: she immediately looks for something in you that, apparently, can be useful to her and gives her hand as a sign of acquaintance. She probably knew Oisin because of some club that had already met in advance and discussed plans for the year. Probably, she and Marina roommates, since they keep a physical distance from each other, but their communication is quite brisk — definitely not an empty conversation. There is no stand flying over any of them. It's good.

"Hi! Oisin told us about you," You turn to Weaver, but he doesn't look at you — pretends not to notice the directed scrutiny, however shakes his head, confirming the words, "nice to meet you," you shake her hand with a slight delay that you hope Leslie won't notice, "you're studying in the same department as me, so we'll probably see a lot of each other," she smiles. Friendly. And you repeat it, though not entirely sincerely.

"Oh, that's good," feigned politeness is not so bad as it seemed to you before, "to be honest, you're almost the first who besides me is interested in such things," you speak softly, almost drowned out by the music, but three people next to you smile understandingly and Leslie begins to chatter — which, of course, she is interested, because it's so exciting and unusual and more people should think about this direction, but we are lucky, and-

Still, how did that guy from the Speedwagon Foundation find you? Your parents couldn't tell them, and grandma Oria perhaps didn't even know about this organization. Oisin also probably has no idea what this Foundation is, and those few people from Italy that you know certainly didn't run to write to the Foundation about your location after the dialogue with you. Did they trace you from your documents? It's possible, but they are not the bureau of investigation, where would they have such information? Besides, why would they want you?

You nod your head in agreement with words that you don't really listen to. The focus is lost, you're just looking at… Lindsay's nose bridge? But your silence doesn't bother her, just as it doesn't bother Marina that starts talking with her friend. As long as nothing is expected of you, you can safely be near them.

"Well, I think, you would like our group," girl slaps you on the shoulder — and is mired directly on scar, still feels like a phantom pain on your body, from which you bend over, and unfamiliar hand slides down on fabric sports sweatshirts. A brunette with a succinct name on L raises her eyebrows and looks at Marina.

"It's nothing," a melancholy smile appears on your lips, "just hurts from time to time," in the eyes of Lindsay — her name was something else — a look of surprise changes to a small interest and… It's not what you expect. And right now, you miss the moment when you can stop words from falling from her lips.

"Did you go to the doctor? Maybe it's something serious," you don't have time to prepare for her question, which is already climbing further than the girl opposite suspects. A small word pricks the blood vessels from the inside with its syllables, and an unprepared body trying to pull the trash out from the inside only boils with tension. Oh, she doesn't know how much, but she won't hear that story from you. You don't want to think about it. You don't want [only the starry sky of Cairo is already blooming in your eyes. Only in the chest it becomes as heavy as it was then].

"Let's not talk about it," you take a couple of sips from a cup. Lindsay and Marina are silent, and you just look around at the people near you, suddenly realizing that Oisin has gone somewhere. And right at the moment when you need his presence. Who does that? He knows that for you is hard — to talk to people without someone else. Damn it, Oisin.

That's why you don't go to the parties. Not to mention the constant need to make sure that people around you aren't dangerous, conversations with them always get out of control and touch on topics that you would rather not discuss [this is like a constant descent of a spiral staircase-there is no end to it and you go lower and lower, not paying attention to people passing by, advising you to stop the descent or sending you further and further down]. In addition, the conversation is already ruined and the girls probably feel awkward trying to come up with another topic, so that the vacuum silence created between the three of you will finally resolve.

"Excuse me, I'm going to get Oisin," invented reason immediately allows you to leave their company. It's not in your wishes to return, but Lindsay still throws a loud "we'll wait" after you, which is unlikely to come true — you all know that.

The familiar top of the head is still nowhere seen and you have to get rid of an almost empty glass, putting it on one of the tables — the girl with the glass bottle in her hand smiles at you and asks if you want to add more, but you just nod your head in dissent and disappear from her field of view. When you go back to the entrance, you still don't see Oisin. And at this moment you realize: air around you is too viscous — it's impossible to breathe. Filled with smells and smoke, without open windows, it resembles the steam of a sauna, from the high temperature of which even your cheeks starts to burn. It's not nice to leave Oisin alone, but he was the first to go somewhere without you, and now you have every right to at least get some air. And, perhaps later, go back to your own dorm, pleading on fatigue.

Fresh air fills your lungs even before you step on the balcony. And the second your foot crosses the threshold and your gaze goes unconsciously to the figure on your right, you think… You think you have the ability to stop time, too. As though Queen threw her hands in exactly one second ago and now, in this moment, stretched for a few brief, you examine his back in the search for inaccuracies, errors, extra pair of buttons on the sleeves or incorrect bending of the visor caps — whatever, just to reality is not confronted with an outcome that you've imagined a thousands of times. But every little thing coincides with the unconsciously expected.

"So, White Queen?" disturbed by a sudden sound, the mynas immediately flap their wings and fly away in the direction of the nearest park, while your attention shifts from a landscape around to the person who has approached. Jotaro pulls a cigarette from the pack, then lights it and takes the first drag before returning his gaze to you. It's more relaxed than you expected — there's tension in it, but not the same as you saw at school. And some unconscious nostalgia along with dissatisfaction spreads in your chest, which is why you stop looking at him. The paving stones under your feet don't seem more interesting, but they are an alternative that you humbly accept.

"Yeah," he doesn't come any closer — he stays behind to the bench and doesn't take a step toward it or away. You can't feel his gaze, but something tells you that Kujo is still looking at you. You would have watched if he had turned away as well. The silence of the back courtyard of the hotel, whose name you forgot about two hours ago, is only broken by the trill of cicadas, the rustle of leaves from a small wind, and the distant hum of the highway.

"And how long?" Jotaro exhales cigarette smoke — you can feel the smell of burnt tobacco coming to you. This… Strange, to hear his peaceful voice with some interest after all this time. When you still took attempts to restore conversations, he only snapped irritably or completely ignored your remarks. When you had to come to terms with the fact that you were no longer friends for some unknown reason, your communication was reduced to a minimum, in which you once were on school duty with him and experienced so much tension that you preferred to leave him alone. Since you are so disgusting to him, then wonderful — without any celebration, you can grant him silence in return. You were angry at him all this time, but this anger is now gone somewhere, leaving behind a tart sadness — as if there was no wordless wall, built in an instant and going in a few years.

"Since childhood," you put your own elbows on your knees and put your chin on your hands, looking at the small garden in front of you, "about eight years or something," ("I can introduce you to my friend, but my parents can't see her! She has cold hands, but she's very kind and I think you will get along!") and then you sigh softly, closing your eyes for a moment so that you can turn back to Jotaro. He immediately catches your glance, "and Star Platinum?"

"A few days ago," he says casually, clenching the cigarette between his teeth, as if he told you not about the fact that his soul has recently received the personification of a guardian spirit, but about some trifle. He also looks tired — there are no bags under his eyes, but his posture is not so even, a little distorted in the hips and shoulders. After all, he's probably worried about his mother, no matter how much he tries to look indifferent. Of course, anyone would have been concerned in his place — it was obvious, but the strangely calm that at first glance was filled with the guy, was a little confusing. Not to mention his habit of being silent and pushing his own emotions too far [once you shouted at him — if Jotaro will continue to behave like that, he will explode from unspoken tension sooner or later].

"And you handle it so quickly," even with a little envy and a small admiration. Though the acceptance of your own stand passed quickly, the realization of what happened appeared only a few years later, when White Queen was still close to you, yet your friends no longer had imaginary companions. His eyes, covered by the brim of his cap, reflect the light of the lanterns. Jotaro always was...

"What's there to "handle"? If he's my soul, then he knows exactly what I need," this. For a moment it seemed neutral-general conversation, like the dialogue of ordinary people, but now it began to take on the shades of those rare conversation that you still picked up during school: sharp, ragged. You have neither the desire nor the strength to argue with him, and you just turn away again.

"When I realized that Queen really existed, I thought my parents would send me to a psychiatrist," your wrists get a little numb and you lower your arms and straighten up. He won't tell you what his first contact with Star Platinum was like, which is why you're sharing the memory of your own stand, "I thought I should tell them all about her, and then… We discuss that there are no ghosts, which means that Queen is hardly real."

Jotaro used to always listen to you — because it was more convenient for him to be a listener than a speaker. You weren't the chattiest person on the planet, and that's probably why you've been in touch for a long time. The silence was calm, but your voice didn't break it — it just added a little colour to the canvas, so that the cotton clouds and honey stars under which you sat together finally can bloomed. You spoke with words, and he with actions, and you were sure that there can't be a better friendship.

But then there was a devastating emptiness and instead of warmth in his eyes, you found only irritation. The question "why" asked thousands of times remained unanswered, and you asked another, longer— did he want to communicate with you at all, or did you give a different meaning to all his actions?

"You don't have to come with us. Stay with your relatives," much rougher than before. Jotaro throws out the cigarette butt and turns around — most likely, going back to the hotel, but you have your own opinion on the situation and you won't be silent.

"I... Want to," you turn your head. Maybe to see his reaction, or maybe for some other reason, but all you can see is the back of his black school uniform and the hair sticking out from under his headdress. Even in the deep evening, he wears this strange cap, " Seiko-san is in trouble, and besides, your company could definitely use a stand with Queen's abilities."

You mean: you need my help. You mean: i don't want you to get hurt.

Kujo is silent. He stands motionless and silent so you feel a little uneasy — as if the aura around you is changing and you're momentarily breathing harder than before.

"No. This is a bad idea. Go back home," and Jotaro starts walking toward the entrance, as if this is the end of your little dialogue and he's the one who put the end to it.

"Jotaro, I'm not doing this for you, but for your mother, first of all," you sneer, clinging to the bench with your fingers, "she's a wonderful woman and I'm grateful to her for many things that she has done for me."

"I'm not going to mess with you," he said, already annoyed and angry. Caught in his sharp look, you feel like a burden again.

"I'm not five to "mess" with me," frowned already before that eyebrows fall even lower, and nails dig into the wooden beams. Despite all attempts to convey your point of view, the last in your conversation is, indeed, sounds of his voice.

"Then mind your own business."

You close the balcony door as abruptly as you opened it. Then quickly reach the turn and press the elevator button as hard as possible — you notice the blood rush to the tense finger and immediately pull it away. You don't turn around — you want to turn around and make sure of something, but you also stand still and wait for the elevator, bending a little. And when it comes, you immediately press the button to the first floor. The warm air outside makes it difficult to catch your breath. Even when you get further and further away from the building. Even when you sit down on a bench.

He's dead, you're dead, everyone around you is dead and they're breathing, they're breathing so much that you can't get a breath inside this mess — they've taken all the oxygen. He's dead — you hold his head in your hands and weep, weep, weep, mixing mud and blood and sweat with your tears, trying to pull a rib out of your chest so that you can save him and, if necessary, sacrifice yourself. He's dead, and you wake up knowing that he's still alive, just too far away for you to hold his head in your hands. He's alive, you're alive, and everyone around is dead and you're crying along with Kakyoin's mother, because you're no longer able to continue. You wheeze in the black gakuran and ask, beg him to never leave, stay close, no matter what to be together. The answer is silence, but he puts his good arm around you, lays his chin on top of your head, and you wake up. He's dead and the ocean holds him to its shore while you try to crawl to him with broken legs, wasting your last strength to even see his face again, but time ceases to exist, and you wake up. You're dead and the burst capillaries of his eyes make that raging blue even brighter when he squeezes your shoulder with one hand and covers the emptiness of your chest with the other, and you wake up. He's dead, Dio's nails pierce your skin, go through your muscles and bones and suck the blood out of your arteries, you hang like a doll without thoughts or desires, you watch yourself being thrown against the wall and then your collarbone is broken with unfamiliar foot, and you don't wake up.

He's alive, you're alive, everyone around you is alive, but there's still not enough air.

"I'm going crazy," you admit to yourself, lifting your head from your hands just a little so that only the lower part of your face is hidden in it. The light from the nearest street lamp reminds you of the sun, and you look at it, look at it until you see black dots and pulsating spots, so then you won't see anything.

You used to call him Jojo. In a voice higher than it's now. You would come to Seiko-san's house and greet her joyfully, then call out his name as loudly as possible and wait under the spreading pine tree. The pine was far away from his room, but at the perfect angle so that you could not intrude and still see Jojo a few seconds earlier than he said hello. Little Jojo and little you ran around a small pond in the garden of Kujo's house — koi fish with reddish bellies repeated circular movements following your and his example and Jojo smiled, putting his hand in the water. His smile was so bright that you repeated it yourself; it didn't matter that your front tooth had recently fallen out because of something that didn't remain in your mind, and the rest of the world around you hasn't been preserved at all because of the age of the memory. Because it wasn't as important as that boy's smile and koi's red bellies.

You called him — no, no, — you called him Jojo another — don't, please don't — one — no, n-o, n o You called him Jojo when you were dying.

Your thumb grazes the earring painfully, and you suddenly realize that you're shaking again. The shoulder feels a phantom pain — you've learned that damn description of "phantom" pain thoroughly, because all that's left of the wound is a scar and a recollection that reproduces and reproduces this aching emptiness under your skin. And you grab it, whine softly and wish to shrink to a ball, just to disappear from this world. You don't need anything, nothing. Nothing more. Nothing-nothing-nothing

You know who's coming to you before you even hear the voice.

"What are you doing here?" your lungs get stuck in your ribs: you can hardly breathe, and in the middle of it you're interrupted by a sharp pain in your chest and hold your breath in a panic for a split second. «The same question I can-» no. Don't even think about it, no, no. White dots appear in your eyes of how much you squint them and you feel sick. «You» no more questions!

"So, Lester was right," his voice annoys you — it's like sandpaper goes right through your eardrums, and you cover your ears to make this sounds hardly heard. His voice irritates you; his invisible figure irritates you, his existence at the moment irritates you. You take a breath, then another and again, which makes your head a little cloudy, doesn't get any clearer, how it supposed to be, and you open your mouth to take another ragged and noisy breath.

You don't remember any Lester, you don't remember anyone, and you know what, Jotaro, go to hell.

"What are you doing here?!" your voice is hoarse, and every word you say crushes the previous one with its volume, stupefaction and anger. Control over your own body also seeps through your fingers — you think that you still sitting, but in that moment also feel the tension in your standing legs as acutely as stones caught under the sole of your sneakers.

"Can you not scream for a second?" and of course those are the words you want to hear right now. Nothing else, just Kujo's eternal need for calm. Maybe you also want peace of mind. Maybe you need it, too, but he's standing there right now, ruining a whole year of your hard work, and you don't want to see him. You don't want to see him, because you've seen him die so many times in your unconscious "what if" fantasy that you're afraid to see his face. He's alive, he's standing by and nothing good has come of it in all the years of your life [he's fine — something far away in you whispers and the faint threads that still grip your heart in panic unravel. Since he's fine, maybe you can afford it too]

"And can you answer my fucking question?!" you howl into your own hands, making the sound uneven and sonorous. You don't care how you look from the other point of view and even more so, whether you attract someone else's attention. All that matters are the answer to the question, why [the man from your nightmares? Your only hope? A bundle of the most incomprehensible emotions for you? Someone who was too close? The reason and the solution at the same time?] your former classmate is standing here. Not in Tokyo, not anywhere else. He wanted to do something related to the sea. Thought about Tokyo University and ... refused? Why? And why was he here?! It's... Lester, the guy from the Foundation! What do they want from you?

"I study here."

Is he... is he mocking you?

It sounds so improbable and stupid, as if the best lie just can't come to his mind. It sounds so strange and ridiculous that it sounds too much like the truth, which makes you turn your head to him to make sure. Jotaro has never lied to you in his life, and there is no reason why he would actually give you such nonsense.

"Are you... Kidding me?" your voice is hoarse. You catch his silhouette in the gap between your fingers, under which you still hide your face, and you just can't quite believe — it's him, it's really him. Because to spit on things, to spit on height, these eyes you will never be able to forget. You don't want to get lost or forgotten in them, no. They scare you. They cause the skin on your neck to goosebumps, and you yourself to seek shelter, just to escape from this green-blue hypnotic colour. Relief comes with a new lump in your throat.

"Good grief, Y/n," you expect the guy to touch his own cap, but still freeze for a few moments when you actually see familiar repeated movement once again. This is true Jotaro, and the fantasies of your meeting that fills your skull to the brim don't have one where you meet him under the polluted night sky of Miami, shivering with the legion of memories that have come to you.

"No, no, no, don't start," you put your hand out in front of you, as if trying to protect yourself or stop him, "that's the guy from the Foundation, right? I told him I wouldn't work with you. Figure it out for yourself, I just-" it's so hard to breathe between words that you stop for an inhale. There is no room for air in the panicked lungs.

"You're too noisy. Calm down," you can see your own hands: they are clean, but the feeling of dirt on them doesn't leave for several minutes. You need to get rid of this. You need to get rid of everything around you in order to find peace in the sterility of your thoughts and body.

"I just got it all back together again. I just stopped seeing them, and then you come in and-"

"I said," he puts his big hand on your shoulder and it's like a physical anchor for getting back, "calm down."

You say: i'm scared You say: god, Jotaro, I'm so scared.

But you don't utter anything out loud, barely holding on to familiar hands.

Recently washed bed sheets smells of powder, freshness and chemical lavender. Its scent is gentler and more cautious in life, not so obtrusive, but you can get along with a fake — it's not the worst thing that a rented apartment can smell. Outside the window, the sun shines full, but it doesn't completely pass through the emerald curtains, that fills the bedroom with a faint greenish hue, which is cut by a strip of pure light exactly in the middle. It crosses your hand and seems that if you close your hand now, you can catch a piece of light. But you just keep watching the dust motes move in the air on that strip. Something about this light reminds you of magic and old dreams that the world is not a boring grey box. It wasn't — it stopped at the age when you didn't understand much about taxes and working in an office, which is probably why you envied Oisin and your remaining friends in hometown: their life was boring in some moments, but most of it was peaceful. Small skirmishes with unpleasant acquaintances and, perhaps, fleeting quarrels with relatives — you didn't guess, you knew that their daily life was just like this. And perhaps unconsciously you still belittle their problems in comparison with your own, but you have the right to do so. You didn't smash your father's car to pieces, you didn't fight with your teacher about a low, unsatisfactory grade, and you never went on a bad date, because instead, in your junior year of high school, the concept of "problems" went too high, making all the everyday tinsel still seem too small. Although, over the past year…

You roll over on your side.

To hell with this last year. As soon as a small part of the past appeared, everything immediately returned to its place, as if there was nothing between Egypt and America [And this is so convenient to blame Jotaro, that you slowly, with your eyes closed from yourself, move all the arrows in his direction — that it's because of him memories return with a frenzied speed, that it's because of him tonight, when you awoke from an empty dream, you met the gaze of your own stand. And somewhere, where the threads of your heart get tangled again at the mere mention of his name, you refuse to make that decision. Only it is so far away that you simply don't have the courage to go to such a depth of your own personality, which is why the usual defence mechanism continues to work].

You just need to calm down and look at the situation from a different angle. Then there will be a way out and everything will be as normal as possible. Maybe you should go to the Speedwagon Foundation. Since Kujo is here and they and the Foundation have invaded your life anyway, one of the solutions is simply-

avoid, you need to avoid them and hide, escape again. They won't help you and will only cause more wounds, and you will again weep until your throat is hoarse and-

at least find out what's really going on in Miami. As if something serious could be happening here.

#jjba #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader #jojo imagines

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resident-of-storybrooke · 5 years ago

Text

Under the Mistletoe

Rated: We’ll go with M for language

9.6k words...apparently I was making up for lost time this year lol

Read: AO3 or fanfic or wattpad

Summary: Killian is Emma’s favorite barista. Emma is Killian’s favorite customer. But what if Killian wants more and Emma needs a date to take home for the holidays? Will they get burnt, or will they be brewing in love?

AN: I am excited to finally share, @nevertothethird, tis I your Secret Santa!!! It has been an absolute joy getting to talk to you these last few weeks. I hope you have an epic road trip, and I hope that you enjoy your gift. This the first proper thing I’ve written all year and boy does it feel good to write again. Thank you @cssecretsanta2k19 for putting this all together, blessed to be a part of the event for the third year now. And MASSIVE thank you to @kymbersmith-90 for beta-ing the hell out of this bad boy for me, couldn’t have done this without you, my friend!

tagging some of the fam squad (I don’t have a tag list, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @doodlelolly0910 @welllpthisishappening @flslp87

Please enjoy and ALL THE LOVE!!!

Killian would rip the bloody chimes down if he knew that Belle wouldn't be pissed about it. Every time someone comes in or out of the coffee shop, the light tinkling sounds acts as a reminder. A reminder that he lost Liam eleven years ago. A reminder that he fled England the year after spiraling without his brother. He doesn't hate his job; honestly, it's not a bad gig; he’s thankful that Belle took pity on a fellow expat and gave him the opportunity. It just that sometimes listening to peoples' ridiculous coffee orders annoys him - hence why he spends most of his time in the back baking. Well, that was until she walked in a few weeks ago.

He didn't know much, only that her name was Emma and she liked to order the same drink every time, never once considering anything else. Sometimes she splurged on a baked good that always seemed to align with the days that Killian had spent baking. He always took pride in his work, but ever since Emma walked in, he had upped his game.

Killian didn't believe in love at first sight, but there was something there he couldn't deny it. She was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise dull rainy days. The first time Emma had stopped in all those months ago, Killian swore his heart had skipped a beat. That Tuesday had felt like any other day, until she’d stepped through the door. The shop wasn’t overly crowded or loud that day, but there seemed to be this peace she brought into the room with her. Killian might have been too distracted by his haze of admiration to actually listen to her order. It wasn't until he’d heard her laugh that he realized she was laughing at him.

"Uh...um, wow...yeah, sorry, love. What can I get for you?"

She stepped closer to the counter, acting like he couldn't hear her giving him an out. "Can I have a large hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on top, please?"

"Cinnamon? Really?" Killian usually didn't care much to interact with his customers. Still, he knew this was a fleeting moment and he was going to do everything in his power to enjoy every second of it.

"Yeah, it adds a nice little kick.."

"Ah, well, perhaps I'll have to give it a try myself, love." Killian knew he could be charming, but he also knew he laying it on a little thick at that moment. However, that didn't seem to bother Emma as her cheeks soon had the loveliest shade of blush gracing them.

"Name?"

"If I tell you mine, you have to tell me yours. Deal?"

Killian couldn't help the grin that overtook his face. "Aye, we have an accord."

"Emma. My name is Emma."

"Emma...beautiful." Then he heard her laugh again and realized like a git he’d said her name aloud. "Uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean -"

"No worries…"

It took him a moment to remember side of the deal. "Killian, the name is Killian Jones." He reached out his hand, and thankfully Emma gave him hers, but instead of shaking it like a normal man would have, Killian brought her hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it.

They only interacted briefly. Killian made sure to take her order and that he was the one to serve her as well. He didn't normally do that for anyone else. The moment Belle caught on, she teased him relentlessly; however, she never got in the way of Killian's fleeting moments with Emma. Belle was a good boss and an event better friend for that.

He wished that one day he would grow a pair and actually talk to Emma, beyond taking her order, maybe one day. And perhaps that day was coming soon....

Emma entered with a huff and went right to her seat. Somehow, it was always empty whenever she came in. Killian grabbed her usual and a chocolate cinnamon cookie because she seemed to need something sweet. But as he walked over, he realized she was on the phone.

"Yeah...no...of course...I'll be home. Yeah yeah yeah, I know, Ruth. I'll make sure to bring him too. I know you're excited to meet him. He's excited to meet you all."

Killian felt his heart fall. She was with another man. The fantasy of a future with Emma finally came crashing down. He almost dropped the cup of hot chocolate and ran off, but managed to hold himself together long enough to set it down on her table. Right before he could make an escape for the backroom, Emma grabbed his arm.

"Killian, here, let me pay you for this." As she reached into her purse, Killian tried to ignore the spark that ignited inside of him at the feel of her hand on his arm.

"It's on the house, love." She looked up, thankful, to say the least.

"But Killian, are you sure?"

"Aye, you're here enough; you've earned a free treat. Besides, it sounds like you have a lot going on. It’s the least I could do."

Emma's face fell in confusion and then she seemed to realize what he meant. "Oh, the phone call? Yeah, my mom is expecting me to bring my boyfriend home."

Killian tried not to let that crush him; obviously, she was distressed and needed to share her burdens with someone. He just didn't understand why it needed to be him. "What seems to be the problem? Does he not want to meet your family?”

"Ha, God, I wish. No, um, you see I - oh God, it's gonna sound so stupid - I lied about having a boyfriend." Killian stood there in shock. "Ruth, my mother, is great and everything, but she’s been begging me to bring home a guy for a while now. I skipped out on Thanksgiving for a case, in favor of going home. And instead of telling her that, I may have lied and said I was staying here with my boyfriend."

"The boyfriend that doesn't exist, right?"

"Yeah, way to keep up there, Jones. So...I don't have a boyfriend and apparently, Ruth is organizing some massive holiday party where I am expected to make a debut with him. And I'm slowly realizing that this was probably the stupidest thing I could have ever come up with. I mean, I'm a grown woman. I should've just told her the truth. And now I have to go back home - without a boyfriend - and deal with -"

"I can go."

"What did you just say?

Killian realized that his brain must no longer be connected to his mouth, because only an idiot would have said he would go. But then he saw the look on Emma’s face. There was something in her eyes - maybe it was hope - or maybe it was desperation. He hoped it was the former.

“I said,” he sat down next to her, “I would be more than willing to go home with you, Emma.” Her eyes immediately met his, and she could tell he was serious about his offer.

“Killian, that’s sweet but we barely know each other. My brother is going to be there. He’s a cop. Actually - a detective. He’s good at sniffing out the truth so he’ll through the charade the moment we step through the door.”

“I know, love. But maybe I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to learn more about you.” Emma looked away as she blushed. “I’m serious about my offer. I’d be more than happy to accompany you home and make this the best Christmas for you.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

Killian could see the tears in her eyes, barely held back. “Aye, love. I think you’ll find I’d do anything to make you smile.” He brought his thumb to her cheek and gently wiped the stray droplets away. “So, just who are you, Emma?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, chuckling as she tried to defuse the tension.

“Perhaps I would, love.”

Emma gave him a disarming smile - and that was when Killian knew he was in trouble.

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Killian had two weeks to learn everything possible about Emma Swan. The first thing he learned was that her last name was Swan, and he found that it fit her well. He’d also learned that she was a bail bonds person, she liked dogs and cats (but dogs more) and she looked up to David (her brother) more than anyone else. Killian had shared that he had been in the Royal Navy with his brother; and that he missed home (but he preferred the weather here in Boston). And, of course, that he enjoyed a glass of rum every now and then.

The drive from Boston to Storybrooke, Maine wasn’t long per se, but nonetheless, Emma was a bit on edge. Killian tried his best to keep her calm during the six-hour car ride. Seeing Emma at ease, without a care in the world, was sublime. He could tell it was something she rarely got to experience, and now it was his mission in life to give her the moments more often.

After their rousing version of carpool karaoke that would put James Cordon to shame, they decided to finalize their cover story once more.

“We met at a Fourth of July party where-”

“Where you just found me too irresistible and-”

“You wish.”

Killian took his eyes off the road for a moment to gaze upon Emma. “Aye, love,” he agreed, and added a wink for good measure.

Emma rolled her eyes and continued their fib of a love story. “You just happened to work at the local coffee shop around the corner from my place...”

“And eventually you realized I’m a dashing rapscallion that you couldn’t live without.” Emma gave another of her non-infamous eye rolls and Killian added, “Scoundrel?” He could see Emma tense up suddenly, and Killian realized that perhaps he had made her uncomfortable. “Love, I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I was merely jesting.”

He peeked over to see she was looking out the window, lost in thought. Four songs, not that Killian counted, played before she spoke. “It’s not that, Killian. It’s just...do you think we can do this? We have to make my family believe that we’re halfway in love with one another for the next week. Are you really ready to commit to that?”

Little did she know, Killian thought, he was more than halfway in love - if not already there himself. But he still took a moment to consider the consequences of their silly little plot, and how they would be greater for Emma than for himself. He pulled off to the side of the road and said, “Emma, I swear to you I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t believe in us. I promise I will do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable these next few days, and to be the best date you could ever bring home.”

Killian held his breath as Emma stared at him. He could see the caution in her eyes, the weariness of the whole nefarious scheme. But then he saw it. There was hope in her eyes. Maybe it was reflected from his, but he swore at this moment, Emma believed they could do this.

She didn’t say a word, merely nodded her head, and Killian got the car back onto the road. The rest of the drive went without a hitch. In fact, they were a little ahead of schedule when they arrived in Storybrooke.

“Would you, um...like to see where I grew up?” Emma said, a bit unsure of how to act now that they had arrived.

“I would be honored to learn more about your beginnings, love.” Emma gave him the same tentative smile from earlier and directed him around the small town.

Killian felt an odd sense of familiarity, as they explored the town. Storybrooke reminded him of the village he grew up in back in England. As they drove around, Emma pointed out some of her favorite places. The first being Granny’s, a diner that apparently had the best grilled cheese and onion rings Emma had ever tasted. She also showed him the sheriff’s station, where she may or may not have spent some “time” after being caught with a boy underneath the bleachers in the wee hours of the night. Emma shared the story of how Ruth had let her off easy after being left in the cell for ten minutes. Emma had been worried Ruth would kick her out, but apparently, she had just laughed, and suggested Emma find a different venue - and better yet, a different boy. Killian chuckled at that. He already owed a debt to Ruth for finding his Swan and giving her a home, but he could see this woman had changed Emma’s life in many different ways, and for that, he could never repay her.

As their little tour came to an end, Killian pulled up to Ruth’s house, and Emma began to fidget in her seat once more. “Swan, it’ll be okay,” he promised. She simply stared at the house in silence. “Emma, I promise it’ll be the best week of your life. I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.”

Just as Killian made a move to unbuckle his seatbelt, Emma leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Both instantly turned red at the display of affection, and Killian realized they needed to get this out of their system if they were going to convince everyone they’d been dating for months.

After climbing out of the car, Killian moved confidently around the trunk to grab their suitcases. When Emma began to protest, Killian told her it was what a good boyfriend would do before he shot her a cheeky wink and then headed for the door.

They didn’t get the chance to ring the doorbell. Ruth had already opened the door and pulled Emma in for a hug when Killian made it to the doorstep. He took a moment to enjoy seeing Emma with someone who cared so deeply for her, and whom she cared for as well.

“Ah, well, don’t you think you should introduce me to your man here, Beans?”

Killian swore he heard Emma grumble at the embarrassing nickname, and he very much looked forward to hearing the story behind it. “Ruth, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mother, Ruth.” As Killian reached his hand out, Ruth completely bypassed it and went right for a hug. Killian had lost his mother when he was a lad, so the maternal display of affection was unfamiliar but not unwanted.

“M’lady, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said as he reached for her hand once more and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Oh, now I see why Emma’s been hiding you away. You are far too charming for your own good.”

Killian was unsure if the woman meant it as a jest or was somehow already seeing through their facade. He stood there with a nervous smile.

“Speaking of charming, where’s David and Mary Margaret?” Killian was thankful for Emma’s quick thinking. He needed to chill out if they were ever going to make this work.

“Oh, they’re already inside. Come on in, you two!”

As Killian stepped inside the old Victorian home, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a loving home full of special memories. When he made his way out of the foyer, he saw the wall - practically a shrine - full of photographs of Emma and David. The pictures of Emma only started in her teens after Ruth adopted her, but there were just as many of her as there were of David.

Killian only got to enjoy those for a moment, as Emma tugged on his arm to continue into the living room. Inside there was there he saw a man around his height with sandy brown hair and to his left, a much smaller woman with a pixie haircut dancing around. Killian recognized David instantly from the pictures in the hallway, and he knew that the woman dancing was Mary Margaret - David’s very pregnant wife. The two seemed to be lost in their own world as he entered the room, but the moment. As soon as Mary Margaret caught a glimpse of them, she ran over to Emma, nearly tackling her with the force of her hug.

“Oh, jeez, M’s! I didn’t know that baby bump was part bulldozer! A little warning next time.”

Mary Margaret laughed at Emma’s comment. “Well, you see Emma, it has many perks. The best being a table for when I’m sitting.”

The two women started to gab about the pregnancy and life in Storybrooke, which left Killian awkwardly standing there. Ruth handed him a drink, which he believed it was eggnog (he’d never had it before). While he sipped his drink, Killian stood there watching Emma enjoy reuniting with her family. Though he had always been able to tell that she had a kind heart, Emma definitely kept it hidden from most of the world. Killian relished the thought of being the one to put her heart out there, and hoped that she wouldn’t feel the need to hide from him.

He was interrupted from his musings when David stood from his seat to approach the newcomer.

“David Nolan, Emma’s big brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

Killian reached his hand out. “Killian Jones. It’s nice to meet you as well, mate.”

“So, Killian, how long have you been with my sister?”

Killian tried to keep his composure, as this was the first real test to see if he and Emma could make it through the week without an incident.

“Well, you know your sister, mate. It can take her a minute to trust someone. I recently moved to the area-”

“From England?”

“Ah, though the accent may say otherwise, I have lived in the States for nearly a decade now. But I’ve, I just moved to Boston to work at my friend’s coffee shop. I’m the baker. Emma’s actually frequent flyer there, and we just started chatting a bit. She was kind enough to show me around the city, and I help her with her perps sometimes. Realized we were practically dating-”

“And I realized that I’d found a good one, and I should hold onto him for a bit. Maybe, haha.” Emma had come from nowhere and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, Killian wished this was more than pretend, that Emma wanted to be with him and wasn’t just doing this for show. However, he knew he needed to get it together if they were ever going to make it through this week, and have some form of friendship after it was over.

As if on instinct, Killian leaned down slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He heard Emma’s breath hitch and tried not to take it personally.

The answer seemed to appease David enough for the moment.

“Oh, I forgot to show you to your room! Sorry about that, Killian. Follow me and we can get your things up to Emma’s old room.” Ruth seemed excited to show Killian the rest of the home.

“Oh, I can show him the room, Ruth. There’s no need for you to go up there for that!”

Emma grabbed his arm and practically dragged Killian, up the stairs to the bedroom. That’s when he realized why she was so insistent on showing him his room alone. It was their room. They would be forced to share Emma’s childhood bed for the week.

“Swan, I can take-”

“I’ll take the floor.”

“Love, it’s more than fine. What kind of gentleman would I be if I made you sleep on the floor? That’s not an option.”

“Killian, you’re already doing all of this. The least I could do is sleep on the ground.”

Before Emma could get another word out, David barged into the room, almost as if he anticipated interrupting something. “What do you want, David?”

“Mom just wanted me to grab you, dinner is ready,” he was silent for a beat before he turned his attention towards an extremely nervous Killian. “I’m watching you, Jones,” was all he said, before he left the room.

“Sorry about that. They really don’t believe in personal space in this house.”

“Ah, which is why, and only why, I suggest we may have to share the bed.” Emma immediately opened her mouth to argue with him when Killian stopped her. “Love, you just said they don’t respect boundaries, even in the bedroom. What are they to believe when they see you in the bed and me on the floor? That’s only going to lead to more lies and headaches. I promise, Swan, I’ll completely respect your boundaries if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“It’s not that, it’s just...I don’t trust myself…”

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

“Actually, yes.”

Killian looked at Emma, as she stood on the opposite side of the bed. The distance felt much further. He could tell that she had instantly regretted saying that, but he wouldn’t let her for another moment.

“Emma, I won’t deny my nerves as well, but I believe that we can both be adults here. As I said, I would never put you in a situation that made you feel anything less than comfortable. If you’re truly unsure, I’m willing to sleep on the floor and set an alarm to get into bed just in case they barge in.”

“No, no, that’s silly. Like you said, we’re both adults. We can share. Now come on, it’s time for dinner.”

“As you wish.”

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The rest of the first night continued without a hitch, most of the attention on Mary Margaret given that she was nearly the end of her pregnancy, as the baby was due in February. David remained silent throughout most of the dinner, continuously eyeing Killian, but he tried to ignore the other man’s suspicion.

The first night in bed, however, was anything but comfortable. Both tried to act as though the other was not there and continue with their normal bedtime rituals. But the silence was unnerving, and neither of them knew how to relieve the tension. Killian didn’t help when he removed his Henley, and Emma saw him shirtless for the first time. He hadn’t thought that through because when he turned around to face her, Emma couldn’t hide her gaping mouth and wide eyes. He wouldn’t lie, it felt good to have an affect on her. Killian knew he was a handsome man, but he hadn’t been concerned about female attention in a long time now - not until Emma had walked into his life. He saw the blush rise in her cheeks and though he wished he could see how far that blush went, he decided it was probably best that he put a shirt on.

Emma was the first to break the silence. “Um, what side of the bed would you like?”

“Whichever side you do not prefer, love. I have no qualms, either way, I assure you.”

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Like what, Swan?”

“Like you’re much older than you actually are. Like you’ve just stepped out of some Jane Austen novel?” Emma finally made her way into the bed, and Killian slide in next to her.

“I’ve talked this way since I was a wee lad. I guess it stuck with me. Does it make you uncomfortable? Would you rather me say ‘Psh, you can pick whatever side you want, boo?’”

Emma lost it at his horrible American accent and rolled over to laugh in his face - but froze when she saw how close they were. “No, um, no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just...I...I’ve never met anyone like you, Killian Jones.”

Emma locked eyes with him, and he saw it again, that hope was back from earlier in the day. “Aye, love, I’m one of a kind.” Killian could still sense her nerves so he suggested, “Perhaps we should get some shut-eye? I think I heard that we’re going Christmas tree shopping in the morning. David said he was going to put my muscles to the test, whatever that means.”

“Oh, he’s gonna see if you can carry the tree by yourself - which you won’t be able to. And neither can he. I’m sorry he’s coming off like such a-”

“Like a big brother? It’s nothing to fret over love; my brother was the same way.”

“Wait, you have a brother?”

Killian cursed himself for letting that slip out. “I had a brother. Liam, he passed away about a decade ago.”

Emma fell silent for a moment before she said, “You told David you moved here ten years ago.”

It wasn’t a question, but Killian knew what she meant, “Aye. I left England after his death. I couldn’t be there anymore. He was the only family I had left, and it was just too much being there without him. I made my escape and never looked back.”

“Do you miss it?”

Killian took a deep breath in, “I miss him. I miss the trouble we got into as lads and the pub that was on the corner of our street,” that got a laugh from Emma. But I do not wish to move back. I’ve found a home here, and some people I truly care for.”

“I’m sorry about Liam. if you ever want to talk about him, I hope you know I’m here for you.”

“Thank you, Emma. I appreciate that greatly, perhaps one day I’ll share a tale or two with you.”

“I look forward to it. Sleep well, Killian.”

“You as well, love.”

He’d never meant to share that part of his life with Emma. Not right now. However, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that she’d welcomed him to share his stories. It was almost like she genuinely cared for him. So, Killian fell asleep with a smile on his face and a heart full of hope that perhaps this wasn’t going to be a big mistake.

The mistake, in this case, happened when Killian woke up. Emma was using him as a pillow and their legs were intertwined. He finally had her in his arms and Killian relished that moment. She looked so at ease and comfortable, almost like she was meant to be there and he was meant to hold her.

Then she awoke.

Emma’s peaceful smile quickly fled, and panic took over her, the blush rising once more, as she stuttered an apology.

“I assure you love, I have no issues with being a body pillow. Perhaps though, I should wear a shirt where your drool-”

“I do not drool!”

“The stain on my shirt proves otherwise, my dear.”

“Well, I...uh...shit, sorry I’ll just go get ready.”

Killian quickly reached for her hand to diffuse any concerns she had. “I promise, love, it’s not anything to fuse over. I was merely making a joke.” He held onto her hand as she nodded, and then bent forward to place a gentle kiss on her hand, just as he’d done the first time they met. Emma, still in some form of shock or panic, freed her hand and then hurried from the room to get ready for the day.

Killian fell back onto the bed moaning, thankful she’d missed the part of his body that also seemed to enjoy her close proximity. He needed to take care of that at some point, but perhaps not in her childhood bed. Killian decided to make his way downstairs, and he would bring Emma some hot chocolate as a peace offering. Peace from what, though? From him? He continued to war with himself until he heard a voice.

“What do we know about him? I mean really, she didn’t tell you his name until a week ago!”

“David, that’s enough! He seems to be a charming young man who cares about your sister.”

“So did the last one, and look how that ended! I don’t trust him. Something’s going on between the two of them and I don’t like it.”

“Exactly, David, something is going on between them and it’s something serious. I know she’s your sister but she’s also a grown woman. She can make her own choices and Killian seems to be a good one. Did you see how he was looking at her? It’s the same way you look at me, David. He loves your sister that much is obvious. And I don’t think it’s one-sided.”

“What do you mean, Mary Margaret? You think she, that she…”

“You can say it, David. I think your sister loves Killian - if not yet, then she’s getting there. I’ve known her for a long time, and I’ve never seen her like this. Not with Walsh, August, or even Neal.”

Killian was torn on what to do at that moment. Obviously, this was a conversation not intended for his ears. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mary Margaret was hinting on about with Emma’s ex-lovers, but now was not the time for him to ask.

A lull in their conversation finally gave him the proper time to make his presence known.

“Good morning everyone.” Killian tried to act normally and not as if that conversation was going to replay in his mind for the remainder of the day.

“Oh, good morning, Killian. How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock, love. And you? I hope the babe is letting you get some rest before he makes their grand entrance.”

“Ah, he was kicking up a storm last night so not too much sleep. Would you like some coffee?”

“Actually, I was coming down to make Emma some hot chocolate. Do you happen to have some chocolate in the house?”

“Are you going to make it from scratch?”

“Aye, I never give her the premade stuff. I know better than to get in the way of Emma and her sweets.”

“Smart man,” David said, finally acknowledging Killian’s presence. Mary Margaret grabbed everything he would need without question, Killian went to work quickly on the hot chocolate. He made sure to add her cinnamon on top, and everyone in the room seemed impressed that he’d remembered it.

Just as he was finishing, Emma came into the kitchen and went right for the cup without a second thought, she pushed herself onto her toes and kissed Killian on the cheek. The group made breakfast together, except for Emma who was a well-known disaster in the kitchen. Killian enjoyed his time with Mary Margaret and Ruth. He’d always had a knack for cooking and baking, so Killian felt at ease for the first time all day.

As they finished their meal and put away the leftovers, David and Emma started prepping the living room for the tree. They bickered back and forth on what size they wanted versus what would work in the room.

“Yes, they’ve always been like this.” Ruth said as she came from upstairs.

Killian was caught off guard by the comment, “Seems as though they love each other, regardless of their differences opinions on Christmas trees.”

“This is nothing. You should’ve seen them when they were younger, lord, there were days that I questioned if I could handle two teens.”

“Though my opinion may not mean much on the matter, you obviously did an amazing job with the two of them. I know I’m biased when it comes to Emma, and I don’t know David well, but they both seem lucky to have had a mother such as yourself.”

“Thank you for saying that, Killian. Will I get a chance to meet your parents soon. They must be proud of having such a wonderful young man for a son.”

Emma and her family really had a knack for hitting on sensitive subjects, it seemed. “Unfortunately, my mother passed when I was eight and my father became overwhelmed by everything. He left my brother and me one night. Luckily, my brother was eighteen at the time and was able to gain custody of me. We lived together for about a decade until a drunk driver took his life.”

Ruth didn’t say anything and although Emma was not hers biologically, he could see the same look upon her face as when Killian had told Emma his story. “Well, please know you are always welcome to join our family. I’m happy that Emma’s found you. I think you’ll both be good for each other.”

“Aye,” Killian was overwhelmed by the woman’s kindness. “she’s the best thing I have in my life, if I’m honest.”

Thankfully, Emma came over and seemed to sense the tension, as when Killian reached his arm out for her, she instinctively curled into his side. Ruth smiled at the couple, truly delighted that her Emma found someone as wonderful as Killian.

Everyone gathered their coats and gloves and made their way to the van to head for the Christmas tree farm. David and Emma continued their conversation on which tree was the best and what size they were looking for. Killian enjoyed witnessing the small family moments and desperately wished he could have done the same with his mother and Liam.

When they arrived at the farm and had climbed out the van Emma reached for Killian’s hand. Even through the gloves he could still feel that spark. “Everything okay?” Emma asked.

“Aye, love. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s just, you’ve been really quiet since we left the house. Is it because of what happened this morning, cause-”

“Oh, no, love, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, I mean, I told you a bit about my past. But I’ve just never had a real Christmas tree before. It wasn’t something Liam and I felt was important when we lived together. And seeing you with your brother, arguing over which one to get, reminds me of what I’ve been missing out on for some time now.”

“Well, for this week, you’re a part of this family. So you can argue about the tree if you want.”

“Funny, your mother said the same thing.”

Emma pulled away for a moment. “My mother said what to you?”

“That I was a part of the family, or I could be, if I wanted to.”

“Do you?”

Killian paused for a moment, not because he needed to give it any thought but because he knew his answer could make Emma run. “Aye, love, I would be honored to be a part of anything with you.” He looked down at her and saw a single tear running down her face. When he reached out to wipe it away Emma grabbed onto his hand. He didn’t know why, but he had the urge to kiss her at that moment, and she didn’t look too opposed to the idea when he saw her eyes linger over his lips. Just as he started to move towards her, they were interrupted.

“You guys, you better hurry otherwise David will - oops sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. Maybe I can come back after you’ve had your...uh...moment?”

Killian sighed in defeat, “Perhaps we should get a move on, Swan? Don’t wanna hear you complaining about the tree not being perfect when we get back home.” Emma laughed and lightly shoved his chest.

The hunt for ‘The Great Christmas Tree of 2019’ was on, and Killian did everything in his power to ensure David wouldn’t hate him by the end of the day.

The two men bickered often, but it reminded him of the way he and Liam used to act. As the day went on, David eased up on him, and even offered to help carry the tree the van instead of making Killian hike it back himself.

It was when they’d finally gotten the tree home and started work on decorating it that Killian began to feel like this was where he was meant to be. That him offering to be Emma’s fake date was not a horrible idea but, in fact, the start of something great for them both.

Ruth announced that she was calling it an early night, and the couples decided to have a little movie marathon. David and Mary Margaret claimed the sofa so she could spread out, which left Emma and Killian with the love seat. It sat two comfortably, but only if the two were comfortable sitting close to one another. Killian tried to keep his composure as Emma laid the blanket over both of them their legs and snuggled. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in a little closer - just to keep up the ruse.

Killian had no idea what movie they watched, all he was concerned with was Emma’s hand, which had been drawing nonsensical patterns on his stomach. He truly believed she had no idea what she was doing and when he looked at her, she stopped - but for a moment. When Killian kissed the crown of her head, her hand continued it’s patterns.

After the third or fourth movie, Killian realized that Emma was fast asleep at his side. David and Mary Margaret talked about putting on the next film, but Killian told them he was going to take Emma to bed. While he knew the logical idea was to wake her up, he didn’t want to disturb her peace. So, Killian carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom. When he gently placed her down on the bed, he saw her scrunch up her nose and put her hands out, as if she were looking for someone.

Killian quickly changed and go into bed. It only took a moment for Emma to curl into his side once more and when she did, Killian welcomed her into his arms.

When he woke the next morning, Killian found himself in a different position. Emma’s back was towards him and he, for all intents and purposes, was spooning her. One hand was wrapped around Emma (because apparently, he liked to cling to her possessively in his sleep) and the other was tucked under his head. It didn’t take long for Killian’s body to react to Emma’s close proximity. He tried to keep his thoughts pure; to think about literally anything else. But nothing seemed to distract him from the goddess in his arms.

Killian truly though he had slipped into some sort of alternate universe when he felt Emma move. It wasn’t to wake up; she was slowly grinding her body against his. He knew he was playing with fire, so he quickly detached himself from Emma, and decided that he would need a cold shower to try and diffuse the situation.

He tried to clear his head, but the feeling of Emma’s body against his was enough to lose his mind. Killian refused to find release in her bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much longer his body was going to handle the pent up tension. They had only arrived Saturday night, Christmas was Wednesday, and he needed to survive until after Ruth’s big Christmas party Friday evening.

When he finally regained his composure, Killian finished his shower and shut the water off. Just before he could reach for the towel, the door opened, and Killian slid the curtain back to hide from whoever had entered.

“Hello? Killian?” It was Emma, thank god, he thought.

“Aye, I was taking a shower.”

“Oh, shit, sorry! I didn’t hear the water and was confused about where you went.”

Killian poked his head out from behind the curtain. Emma was still in the bathroom, despite his current state of undress. “I just finished up, I’ll be out in a moment. I can make you some hot chocolate if you want, love?”

“I, uh...no...I’m good. I’ll, shit, I’ll just let you get dressed in peace. See you downstairs!”

Emma ran into the wall, and Killian chuckled until he realized why she was so discombobulated. He had apparently revealed more of himself than he thought, luckily his most private part was covered, but not much of anything else was.

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As the next two days went on, Killian and Emma continued to blur the lines, neither one shied away from affection in front of others, but they were also not afraid to remain close when they were alone. After the third night, Emma said she didn’t mind waking up in Killian’s arms. It wasn’t the most romantic phrasing, but Killian took it in stride. Hearing Emma admit that she was enjoying being close to him made him feel as though he wasn’t the only one who felt that connection between them.

Before they fell asleep on Christmas Eve, Killian heard Emma murmuring something to herself. He couldn’t make it out and decided it would be best not to ask her. He figured she would share whenever she was ready.

Christmas Day was overwhelming, to say the least. The house woke early, not to open gifts, but to drive to the town over and volunteer at a homeless shelter. Killian knew the family were good souls, and to see it in action reminded him that there was still goodness in the world.

After spending most of the early afternoon at the shelter, the group returned home and opened their gifts. Emma and Killian had given David and Mary Margaret some items off their baby registry that they hadn’t been gifted at the baby shower. Killian had gotten them an extra gift, much to Emma’s surprise, of a little pirate stuffed toy. At the looks of confusion over the small pirate, Killian explained how back home, everyone would gift a new baby a doll. He told the couple that an old wives’ tale said that the dolls were protect the child, and while people found it silly, David and Margaret seemed to appreciate the sentiment.

David and Mary Margaret had gotten Emma an Easy Bake Oven and a cookbook for dummies, everyone thought it was hysterical, even Emma. And since the couple did not know Killian well, they went off the basic knowledge that he was a baker and got him an apron that said: “This is my pretend I can bake apron.”

While everyone scattered to make cookies, Emma and Killian stayed by the tree.

“Oh, before I forget, I got you something, Killian.”

“Emma...you didn’t have to get me anything.”

She rolled her eyes at his protests, “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She handed him the small box wrapped perfectly neat with a bow on top. Killian was surprised to find a Christmas ornament shaped like the hook Captain hook would wear inside of it. “I remember you saying how much you loved that story and that he was your favorite.” Killian looked at the hook. He was in awe of the thoughtfulness of Emma’s gift. He didn’t know when she’d had time to find such a gift; as he’d only told her that story during their car ride to Storybrooke.

Emma sat there waiting for his response, he could see her fidgeting in anticipation. Without a second thought, Killian placed the gift back in the box and leaned forward for a kiss.

It was soft and sweet. Her lips felt just as he’d always imagined they would when pressed against his own. He pulled back, much too soon in his opinion, but Killian remembered where they were and why they were there. Emma still seemed to be in shock, but it only lasted for a moment and then she was leaning back in for another kiss. This time, Killian placed his hand on the back of her head, gently holding onto her golden locks. The kiss deepened slightly and was only stopped by some obnoxious coughing obviously coming from David.

The spell was broken, but Killian swore at that moment nothing had ever felt so right. The two got up and joined the others back in the kitchen to help with the cookies.

Killian was placed in charge as he was a baker by trade. The group followed his directions but decided to make it more interesting by doing a decoration competition, where Ruth would be the judge.

In the end, everyone presented their plates to Ruth. David had attempted to create a dog, like the one that was at the shelter he worked at, but it more so looked like a blob. Mary Margaret had decorated hers to be in the shape of a onesie for a baby. Killian had to admit he was rather impressed with her natural skill. Emma merely threw on every sprinkle and candy she could get her hands on. It was a mess, and Ruth was a bit concerned about the taste, but let it slide since it was Emma. Killian’s creation was the most realistic of the bunch. He designed his cookie to look like a mug filled with hot chocolate. But the design inside of the cup is what grabbed everyone’s attention. It was a swan.

Emma recognized it instantly, Killian had made a similar creation back in Boston. She looked up at him and found that he was blushing while scratching behind his ear. It was a nervous tick Emma recognized instantly. Killian won the design off, and by doing so was able to choose their dinner, Chinese food.

For the rest of the night, Killian was surprised to find Emma nearly glued to his side, it was not unwelcomed, and Killian decided to make the most of this gift.

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As the week progressed, Killian knew that at the end of all this madness, he was going to sit Emma down and explain his intentions. He loved her. It was that simple. He wanted to live a life where Emma was not just a part of it, but the star of it all. He had grown accustomed to waking up with her hair in his mouth and his arms wrapped around her. He loved how she was so thoughtful and kind to others. He had known for a while she was someone special, but this trip put in perspective that she was the most special person in his life, and he would do anything for her to see that.

Still, Killian was nervous that she only saw him as a friend. It terrified him that at the end of this, there was a possibility she could walk away without a second thought. He tried to keep those doubts buried, as there was no need to stress over something he couldn’t control. But that was easier said than done.

Tonight, was the town’s Christmas party, although gala was perhaps the more appropriate word. Everyone was there to help set up for the event. Killian was pleased when Emma introduced him to some of her high school friends. He found her group to be a mishmash of personalities and yet, they all fit perfectly together. There was Elsa, who was probably personality-wise the closest to Emma. Jasmine, who had also transferred in late like Emma, and then there was Ruby. Ruby was loud and her mind seemed to live in the gutter. Killian knew that if given a chance, they’d probably be great friends too.

At one point, David asked for Killian’s assistance on a task that clearly needed one person. Which suggested that the other man had an ulterior motive in asking for help.

“So, Killian, I think it’s time you and I have a little talk. What exactly are your intentions with my sister?”

Killian knew it was coming, but he was still caught a bit off guard at how abrasive David was being. He thought he had grown on the man throughout the week, but David’s stance demanded an answer from him. “My intentions are to make her happy, by whatever means necessary. I don’t need to tell you that she’s been through a lot. Her trusts means the world to me. Her heart is precious, and I intend to care for it as if it were my own. Your sister is the most important person in my life, and I wish to stay around for as long as she lets me.”

David’s features were neutral throughout Killian’s little speech, and then finally, he let a small smile slip. “Welcome to the family then, Killian.”

Killian offered him a smile of his own. He was thankful that David finally seemed to trust him with his sister’s heart. The two men spent the rest of the day helping one another, laughing, and finally being at ease.

Killian was on his way to grab some chairs from the closest when he once again walked in a conversation not meant for his ears.

“Spill. Now.”

“Ruby, I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“How about the truth, Emma Marie Swan! No texts, no calls, not so much a word. And then you show up here with Killian? Emma, I know you’re reserved but you would’ve told me if you were dating someone. Shit, you’ve told me about one-nightstands before! What’s the deal with you and Killian?”

Emma sighed in defeat, “We’re not really dating. It’s all pretend.”

“Emma, are you serious?”

Killian didn’t hear her reply, he assumed she nodded her head.

“Yeah, okay? It was all for pretend. He just offered out of pity, I think. He’s my barista from back home, and he overheard me telling Ruth I was bringing a guy home. And now? Ha! Everything has gone to hell...He’s just a fake date.”

Killian had heard enough. His heart felt as though someone had reached into his chest and crushed it. He walked away, not daring to listen to any more of how she actually saw him. Just some guy. Some fake date that’s gone too far. Killian stormed out of the building and went for a walk to clear his head.

Emma watched as he left but unfortunately, Ruby still had her corned. “So?”

“So what, Rubes?”

“Are your feelings for him fake as well? Cause honey, I can tell you his most definitely are not.”

Emma knew that deep down, Killian was no longer acting. And somewhere along the line, she had stopped too. Ruby seemed to take her silence as her answer, smirking at her friend as she walked away.

“Oh, and Emma? I would tell him sooner rather than later the truth because otherwise, you’ll be under that mistletoe alone.” Ruby knew when to drop the mic and walk away, which always impressed Emma. She just never liked being on the other end of those moments.

Emma tried to find Killian, but he seemed to have disappeared from the building. When she went home to change for the party, he kept his distance and never stayed in the same room with her for more than a moment. It didn’t take her long to realize something must have been bothering him, but she chalked it up to him feeling overwhelmed with his current situation.

Ruth stayed at the venue and changed there, so the two couples decided to ride together. Mary Margaret was wearing an elegant white long dress, and David was dressed in a navy-blue suit. They looked like royalty together.

Emma had decided on a black dress that was laced with beautiful patterns and hugged every curve. Killian was in awe of her beauty but tried to hide his emotions. He had decided during his walk, that it would be best for him not to think of Emma as anything more than a friend.

“You clean up well, Mr. Jones.” Killian had trimmed his scruff and wore a black suit, coordinating perfectly with Emma.

“Thank you, Swan. You look lovely as well. Shall we go then?” No one else seemed to notice that Killian was off except for Emma. In recent days, he’d been calling her love, darling, and most recently mo ghra. Emma still hadn’t looked up what it meant, she knew his mother was from Ireland and had assumed it was an Irish term of endearment.

The entire car ride there Killian didn’t so much look at Emma. He couldn’t, he was weak and would not be able to stop himself from falling more in love with her every second that passed. He needed to be strong and realize this facade of a relationship would be over the moment they returned to Boston.

As they entered the building, Killian spotted the mistletoe that had been hung above everywhere. He knew that had not been the original plan. Damn, now he would have to avoid walking through a doorway with her.

The party continued without any incidents. Emma had asked to dance with her on a number of different occasions, but he always found an excuse to avoid it. He felt terrible. He could see she was upset by his rejection, but he figured it was for the best. They’d nearly been caught under the mistletoe four times now, and it was starting to feel like Emma was deliberately trying to catch him.

As the night wore on and couples began to take their leave, the DJ announced it was time for the last song, and invited everyone onto the dancefloor. Killian saw Emma standing off to the side. She looked deflated and he couldn’t stand seeing her that way. Without care for his heart, he stood and offered Emma his hand.

There it was again. That hope had returned to her eyes once more.

As they began to dance to an old Christmas song Killian wrapped his arms around Emma’s waist, and her own came up to settle over his shoulders so her hands could play with his hair, like she had done for most of the trip.

“Killian, I just want to thank you. If you hadn’t offered-”

“It was the right thing to do, love.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you offer to come with me?”

Killian felt his resolve breaking, he wanted so desperately to say it was because he loved her, but he bit his tongue. “All I know, Emma, was that you deserved to have a special Christmas. One filled with precious memories, not concerns regarding your dating life. And I, uh, I couldn’t imagine you going home with anyone else. The thought of that was unsettling.”

“You didn’t want me to go home with someone else?”

“Truth be told, love when I heard you on the phone and you mentioned you were with another, my heart sank. I thought I had lost my chance.”

The two of them danced in silence, as Killian prayed that he hadn’t crossed a line.

“I know you heard me make my wish, you know?”

Killian gave her an odd look, confused by what she meant.

“On Christmas Eve. I know you weren’t asleep.”

“Oh, that? I was confused by what you were saying. It’d been a long day and I thought you were mumbling something in your sleep.”

“No, um...it’s a silly thing I’ve done since I was a kid. Christmas Eve, before I fall asleep, I make a wish. The first year I did it, I wished for a home; two months later, Ruth found me. It’s silly and usually nothing happens, but-”

“It’s charming, Swan. We all could use a little hope every now and again.” The irony wasn’t lost on Killian at that moment. He hoped so desperately that Emma would see him as more than her fake date.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I wished for?”

“Isn’t that bad luck, love? I wouldn’t want your wish not coming true because of me.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she whispered, but Killian still caught it over the music.

“What did you wish for, mo ghra?”

Emma smiled brightly. During the night, she’d looked up what that phrase meant. “Love. I wished for the man I love to love me back.”

“Emma?” Killian stopped dancing. He stood still and prayed he’d heard her correctly. “Are you...do you...please say it. Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

Emma stepped further into his space and held his gaze.

“I love you, Killian Jones.”

Killian kissed her as though his life depended on it. And at that moment, felt like it did.

“I love you, Emma Swan. More than you’ll ever know.”

The two barely made it home before they could express their love in a physical way. They didn’t tell anyone that it was fake at the beginning, until the night before their wedding. Emma finally confessed to her family when Ruby inadvertently mentioned it. David had a field day with the news, but Mary Margaret was amazed at their acting. Ruth simply told them that they had never really been faking it. They were merely hiding the truth from each other.

She wasn’t wrong.

#captain swan #cs #emma swan #killian jones #csss19 #my gift #captain swan ff #cs ff #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #ruby #BED SHARING #FAKE DATING #until it isn't ;)

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