#It took me a second to relocate my style (which I found in the next piece lol)

[ketchupkio]

Cute little warmup that I decided to line and flat color. Sonic wasn't expecting a kiss 🤭🤭

🦔 kofi 🦔

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS アニメ公式ノベライズ Official Novelization ☽ Chapter 1 Translation

[…] ☽ [Next chapter]

Hello everyone! It's been a while. I went back to Japan for the first time in ages last month and immediately fell back down the Diabolik Lovers rabbit hole when I went to the Rejet shop...

I recently found this so-called 'anime novelization' on eBay, and thought it might be fun to use it to get back into translating. This book was released as a novel counterpart to the first season of the Diabolik Lovers anime, thus following the storyline of the anime rather than the visual novels (almost to a T).

Please let me know if you like reading these and want me to translate more of it! I'm not exactly sure how active the fandom is anymore, so I think I'll just test the waters with a couple of chapters and see if it'll be fun to translate the entire book. Who knows!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Originally written by Yukuzuki Hiroha 結来月ひろは Translated from the Japanese by @otomehonyaku

STORY Following her father’s job transfer, Komori Yui is sent to live with the Sakamaki brothers. However, these six brothers turn out to be sadistic, ill-tempered vampires. The men are after Yui’s sweet and incredibly rare blood, and go to great lengths toying with her body and soul to get it. Before long, Yui finds herself trapped in an alluringly dangerous love game(1)...

1. 吸血愛戯 (ラブゲーム): Stylised as ‘love game’ but written with the characters for bloodsucking (吸血), love (愛), and play (戯). The latter character also has a connotation of playfulness/mischief.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DISCLAIMER This is an unofficial translation intended for those interested in reading the story of the Diabolik Lovers game/season in a slightly more literary format in English. I have no affiliation with Rejet or Frontier Works whatsoever. All rights belong to them, but PLEASE DO NOT POST THIS TRANSLATION ELSEWHERE OR TRANSLATE TO OTHER LANGUAGES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

Now that that’s out of the way—have fun reading! ❤️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Episode 1

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That day, like any other day, the sky was aglow with twilight. In the quiet forest, which was dimly lit by the evening sun, the sound of a car engine pierced the air. It was a taxi, driving alone on the narrow forest path.

What a pretty sky… Komori Yui thought as she gazed at the sky from the backseat of the taxi.

Yui was an ordinary second-year high school student. She lived with her father, who was a priest, before he had to relocate for work. Yui was sent to live with the Sakamaki family, who were acquaintances of her father's, and so she was currently on her way to her new home.

A lake came into view from the taxi window. The setting sun glittered off the surface of the lake. The wind, carrying the scent of the forest, rustled Yui’s hair when she opened the car window. She spotted a large mansion nestled between the trees through the window on the opposite side.

So that’s where I’ll be living from now on… 

The closer the taxi got to the mansion, the wider the girl’s eyes became. Aside from what looked to be the main building, which was built around a courtyard, there were even several auxiliary buildings and a gazebo on the property.

I’ve never even seen a mansion this big before.

Before long, the taxi stopped before a gate that was large enough for two cars to easily pass through at the same time.

“Thank you,” Yui said to the driver and stepped out of the car. The taxi returned into the direction from which they had come.

Yui took her suitcase and looked up at the large, Western-style building beyond the gate. It was a three-storey brick building that might as well have belonged to a family of European aristocrats. Briefly taken aback by the view in front of her, Yui opened the gate and went into the courtyard.

“Wow… I never thought it would be such an elegant house.”

Pulling her suitcase behind her and eying her surroundings with astonishment, Yui made her way to the front door. The entrance was still quite a ways away from where she was, and Yui couldn't quite make it there as she kept falling from one surprise into another.

There’s even a fountain!

The stone statue of a gargoyle was perched on top of the fountain and looked down at her. Yui wondered briefly whether this was the personal taste of the mansion’s owner. As she passed by the fountain, the shadows of raindrops started to appear on the stone tiles underneath her feet.

“Rain?!” Caught off-guard, Yui looked up. 

The sky that had been so clear earlier was now black with rain clouds. Just as Yui thought she'd seen a flash of lightning pierce the dark sky, a loud clap of thunder rumbled through the air. Startled by the thunder, she let out a small cry.

“Oh no, even thunder…” Yui clumsily hurried in the direction of the front door. The rain began pouring down the moment she reached it.

Thank God I didn't end up soaked. It wouldn't be appropriate to show up at your new host family’s doorstep drenched to the skin with rain, after all.

Yui faced the door. It was huge and covered in decorative engraving, and she used the ancient-looking door knocker to announce her arrival. The sound of the cold, iron knocker reverberated through the mansion once, twice, but nobody came to answer.

“Excuse me!” Yui called, and extended a hand towards the door.

Before she could reach it, the door inched open by itself with a loud creaking sound.

“Ah!” 

Yui flinched backward in surprise. Out of curiosity, she gingerly peeked through the gap in the door. Nobody was there. Did that mean she was welcome to go inside?

As if she'd been invited in, Yui stepped inside, and the door immediately slammed shut behind her.

Once inside, the first thing that greeted her was a lavish entrance hall lit by a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Still, the entrance hall somehow looked quite gloomy, stretching out far into the shadows on either side of her.

“Um… Is anybody there?” Yui ventured once more, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. 

“How strange. I wonder if they didn't know I would be coming today,” Yui muttered to herself as she paced through the hall. When she stepped onto the red carpet spread out on the floor, a large staircase came into view. She paused before the stairs, only barely visible under the dim light of the chandelier as she called out again, “Excuse me!”

Once more, her voice rang through the air to no avail. Nobody came.

What should I do?

She might have been looking for the master of the house, but that didn't mean she should feel free to snoop around in someone else's home. Yui was at a loss. She stood stock-still, trailing her eyes over her surroundings, and then she noticed something.

For a brief moment, a bolt of lightning outside cast a sliver of light on a sofa by the window. 

Wait, what was…

She only saw it for an instant, but Yui made her way over to the sofa. She saw a figure not unlike the shape of a boy laying on top of it. He seemed about the same age as her, and wore what looked to be a school uniform, but it was completely dishevelled. Under his head was a cushion, which he used as a pillow as he slept.

  What an odd place to sleep in… But I’m glad I managed to find someone.

The boy looked to be sleeping soundly when the lightning illuminated his face again. Even though Yui knew it would be rude to wake him up, she called out to him.

”Um… Excuse me.”

She reached out and touched the boy’s hand, but withdrew immediately.

“So cold!” 

The boy’s skin had been much colder than she’d expected. Regardless of how long he’d been sleeping on that couch, his body temperature shouldn’t have dropped that much.

He doesn’t even have a temperature to begin with…

“Are you okay?” 

Yui started panicking and held an ear to the boy’s chest, but the heartbeat she should have heard never came.

“His heart isn’t beating… Oh no, I have to call an ambulance!”

Yui pulled her phone out of the bag slung over her shoulder, and hurried to call the emergency number, but a hand shot out from beside her and swiftly took the phone right out of her hands.

“Ah!”

“…Shut the fuck up. Who do you think you are, walking into someone’s house yapping like that?”

The boy Yui had assumed had been dead suddenly stood up from the sofa, her phone in his hand, and shot her an irritated glare with his emerald eyes.

“Y-you’re alive?!” 

“What?”

The words had escaped Yui’s lips in an involuntary whisper, but the boy didn’t bother hiding his annoyance when he responded.

“Obviously. Who’d you think Yours Truly is?”

The boy responded like this was the most normal situation in the world, but it didn’t make sense to Yui at all.

What’s going on…?

Without realising it, Yui slowly started backing away from him. “But… Your heart wasn’t beating…” She was absolutely positive that she hadn’t heard a heartbeat.

And yet… Why did the boy in front of her look so calm and composed? 

A flash of blind panic urged Yui to make a run for it, but the boy caught her in his arms and pushed her onto her back on the sofa.

“Ah! What are you doing?!”

“What, isn’t it obvious? I’m gonna eat you up.” The boy’s face dipped in close, but bent down further to lick the nape of Yui’s neck.

What on Earth…

Yui’s mind reeled at the boy’s unexpected behaviour, and she yelped, but that only made her assailant’s face twist into an amused grin. He bent down again in an attempt to bite into her neck. 

“Ayato! What is this? Tone it down.”

The boy—Ayato, apparently—clicked his tongue and glared at the person standing next to the sofa. “Reiji.” 

The person Ayato referred to as Reiji was a highly strung-looking boy with glasses perched on his narrow nose. With his calm and polite demeanour and white gloves, he almost looked like a butler, but when Yui looked closely, he was wearing the same uniform as Ayato.

Reiji looked at Ayato over the rim of his glasses with an exasperated expression. “This is the entrance hall. A place where we welcome guests. Please take these sorts of activities to your own room.”

“Ugh, boring.” Ayato reluctantly sat up.

Did this boy just come to save me?

Yui flung herself off of the sofa and scurried to Reiji’s side. “P-please help me!”

He gave her a puzzled look when she called for help. “And you are?”

“Komori Yui. My father arranged for me to stay here.”

“I don’t recall hearing about that.”

After listening to Yui’s explanation, Reiji returned his attention to Ayato. “Ayato, will you explain what’s going on here?”

“What? Like hell I know,” Ayato answered gruffly, and swung a leg up onto the sofa. He looked directly at Yui. “Y’know, Pancake, you could’ve told me all of that earlier.”

“That’s because you attacked me all of a sudden.”

“Huh…”

Somewhat unsurprised that she wouldn’t be able to have a normal conversation with the person who had just plainly assaulted her. Ayato turned away from her as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

What’s wrong with him? He’s been nothing but rude… Yui thought, and suddenly something occurred to her.

“Wait, you said Pancake… Did you mean me?”

“Of course, you idiot. You really that dense, Pancake?” Ayato cast her an amused sideways glance, clearly making fun of her. 

Next to Yui, who was still fuming at the rude nickname, Reiji crossed his arms in thought.

“Strange indeed. Nobody has reported this to me, either.” 

Then Yui must have come to the wrong mansion. But still, there aren’t any other houses around here.

“Ah, um, so you are…”

“Let’s not discuss this here. Please follow me. Your luggage will be taken care of.” Before Reiji had even finished talking, Yui noticed that a butler had appeared beside her suitcase. 

“Oh!” When did he get here?

The butler acknowledged Yui with a little nod and disappeared with her suitcase. What on Earth is going on in this mansion? A front door that opens by itself, and a butler that appears out of thin air, without a sound. And then there’s…

When Yui cast a glance toward Ayato, who was still sitting on the sofa, his eyes met hers with a disgruntled expression. Remembering what he had done to her earlier, Yui quickly looked away and followed Reiji instead.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Reiji led Yui into a spacious living room. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling gave off a dazzling light, and firewood was burning in the hearth.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

Yui did as he said and took a seat on the sofa.

“You too, Ayato. We cannot have a proper conversation if you do not.”

“Ugh. Fine.” 

She watched as Ayato took a seat next to her, and Reiji started to speak.

“Firstly, please do us the courtesy of explaining why you barged into our home without permission.”

“Ah, yes.” 

I didn’t really barge in here, though… However, to Reiji and the others, that’s what it must seem like. I should apologise and clear up the misunderstanding.

“Um…” Yui straightened her spine but was interrupted before she could speak.

“Oh, oh, oh! What’s this?” a voice laughed from above. When Yui looked up, she saw a boy peering down at her from the mezzanine. “To think such a cute girl would show up here!” He looked about the same age as Ayato, but wore a black hat on his head. His bright green eyes bore into Yui’s, making her a little nervous.

Has he been there the entire time? I couldn’t even tell. Just as she took in the strange circumstances, a tongue trailed over Yui’s left cheek.

“Ah!” 

Did someone just lick me? 

Touching her cheek in surprise, Yui looked to the side and was met with the boy who had just been on the mezzanine. What? How did he get over here so fast? Feeling as though she’d been pinched, she cast him an accusatory look.

“Hm… She smells so sweet.” 

When Yui pressed her back against the sofa to get away from the boy, another voice suddenly sounded from right behind her.

“Please let me have a taste, too.”

Someone licked her ear this time. Yui spun around and saw a purple-haired boy of small stature there. She cringed at the moist sound of his tongue, pressing a hand to her ear. 

“She tastes sweet, too.”

What on Earth is going on? The two boys looked entertained by Yui’s confusion. 

Reiji seemed unable to look on, and broke the silence. “You two. That is no way to treat a lady whom you have only just met.”

The boy with the hat whined in protest at Reiji’s reprimanding tone.

“Do you have anything to say, Laito?”

“Well, if something so delicious-looking is put in front of me, I just have to taste it. Right, Kanato?”

“Yeah,” the purple-haired boy replied with a nod.

“Fuck off, all of you!” Ayato wedged his way into the two boys’ conversation.

 “Yours Truly found this one, so I’ll be the one to take all of her firsts.”

“...Asshole.”

Ayato frowned at the source of yet another voice filled the living room.

“With your ‘Yours Truly, Yours Truly,’ just shut the fuck up already.”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ayato flung himself off the couch with unnecessary force, and looked around the room. “That’s Subaru, isn’t it? Show yourself, coward!” 

“I’m right here.” The sullen voice came from a boy leaning against the wall, presumably Subaru. The white shock of his hair, which covered his right eye, was a stark contrast with his red eyes, which leered at Yui. “I was just thinking it reeked of humans in here. So it’s you. How are you going to compensate for my lack of precious sleep?”

“W-where did you come from?”

“I asked first!” Subaru yelled in annoyance, and slammed a fist against the wall behind him. Cracks began to form in the wall from his fist outwards, sending plaster crumbling to the floor. He fixed his gaze on Yui, who was at a loss for words.

Seeing the dilapidated state of the wall, Reiji sighed heavily as he repositioned his glasses. He turned toward his brothers gathered in the living room.

“Are any of you listening? The lady will be living here from now on.” 

There was no response.

“Um, I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I’m sorry for troubling you. I’ll be on my way now.” Yui resolutely rose from the couch.

“Please wait.” Reiji’s voice made her freeze in place when she attempted to flee the living room, her eyes trained on the floor. “I am still confirming the facts. Do you not think it would be rude to leave now?”

“B-but…”

Reiji certainly had a point, but considering the mansion’s other inhabitants certainly weren’t intent on following his orders, Yui could not bear to be there much longer. They’re scaring me…

A new, listless voice came from the direction of the window.

“Are you the woman he told me about?” 

When Yui turned to look, she spotted another new face. The boy was spread out lazily on the sofa by the window. He wore the same school uniform as the others, but instead of a jacket, he wore a beige-coloured cardigan over his shirt. He appeared to be listening to music, as a pair of earphones plugged his ears.

There’s one more brother?

“Shuu, what do you know about her?”

“...Nothing much.” Shuu replied dismissively, his eyes closed. Could he hear Ayato even though he was wearing earphones? 

“Nonsense. Please elaborate,” Kanato urged.

Shuu reluctantly began speaking. “He… contacted me the other day. He told me we’d be receiving a guest from the church, and to ‘treat her kindly,’ ‘make her feel most welcome,’ all that.”

“The hell? You mean Pancake’s the Chosen Bride?” 

An involuntary noise slipped from Yui’s lips at Ayato’s remark. What does that even mean, the Chosen Bride? At the very least, she knew that her father, who had to move away for his job as a priest, had arranged for her to live here, but this was the first time she heard of this whole ordeal. However, contrary to Yui’s astonishment, the brothers listened to Shuu’s explanation rather calmly.

“Ah, I see.”

“A bride? Well, more like a living sacrifice, right?”

…Living sacrifice?

Yui was taken aback by Kanato and Laito’s exchange. 

Then, Shuu opened his eyes and spoke as if to deal the final blow. “Right, he also ordered us not to kill her, so…”

Not kill me? What the…?

“Huh… Well, then we’ll be enjoying her company for a long time.”

Meanwhile, Yui had frozen in place. 

Reiji ignored her shock as he called her to attention. “Wonderful. It appears that the issue has been cleared up. Then, let us properly introduce ourselves.” He first turned to Shuu. “That is the eldest brother, Sakamaki Shuu. I am the second son, Reiji.” He paused briefly before turning to Ayato and the others. “Those are the triplets. Ayato–”

“I won’t let you get away next time.”

“Kanato–”

“Please let me taste you again. Exciting, isn’t it, Teddy?” Teddy must be the name of the one-eyed bear Kanato was cradling in his arms. The boy tilted his head and giggled.

“And Laito–”

“Let’s have fun together, Bitchlet.” For such a crude name to call a woman, Laito was laughing as he said it.

“Lastly, that’s Subaru, the youngest brother.”

“Ugh, this shit sucks.” Subaru looked displeased at Yui’s presence, and turned away immediately.

Reiji had properly introduced all of the brothers to her, but still, she did not know how to make sense of everything they had said to her. “There must still be some kind of mistake. I haven’t heard anything about a bride…”

Something suddenly occurred to Yui, a peculiar thought poking at the back of her mind. Many strange things had happened to her since she’d arrived here, but the most unsettling thing of all…

“S-something’s… off about all of you…” Yui asked, her gaze gingerly shifting from brother to brother. All of their eyes were trained on her.

What on Earth…

Their cold, piercing gazes radiated danger, and Yui’s fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. I have to get out of here.

“I-I have to contact my father…”

Yui reached for the cell phone in her pocket, but, somehow it had ended up in Ayato’s hands again.

“Ah!” How did that happen? Never mind, this is not the time to think about that. “My phone! Give it back!”

“I dunno about that.” Ayato toyed with her phone, a sadistic smile forming on his face.

I won’t have any means to contact my father if I don’t have my cell phone…

“Give it back, please!” Yui tried to take the phone from him, but every time it seemed just within reach, Ayato dodged her. He seemed to be enjoying the look of despair on her face. He then tossed the phone to Subaru.

Just as she thought he would return it to her, Subaru’s expression changed to a look of disgust, and Yui knew immediately that he wasn’t going to.

“W-what are you doing?”

“This.”

With one swift movement, Subaru snapped the phone in two. 

There went Yui’s lifeline to her father. Why are they doing this? 

“This is cruel…”

“Shut up.”

Watching the tears forming in Yui’s eyes at the sight of her broken cell phone, Subaru shot her an irritated glare.

“Oh, Bitchlet, don’t be sad!” Laito said cheerfully and patted her shoulder as if to console her. “We’re going to get along great, so you won’t need your cell phone anyway. Okay?”

Before she had time to think about it, she had been sandwiched between Laito and Kanato.

“I’ve been so hungry.” 

Kanato edged closer to a now distraught Yui as he spoke, and Laito simultaneously leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

“Ah… You smell so good, Bitchlet.”

Huh? I’m not even wearing perfume.

Just as she pondered his remark, the light reflected off something in the corner of her eye. She tilted her head to look, and it turned out to be the canine teeth poking out from Laito’s mouth when he bent down to her neck as if he was going to bite her.

The thunder rumbling in the distance coincided with a fearful scream from Yui, both reverberating through the room. 

I have to get out of here. Now.

She dashed for the door, but in her haste, her foot caught on something and she fell flat on her face. Yui scrambled back up, but a flash of pain ran through her leg. Looking down, she saw blood welling up from a cut in the skin of her knee.

Suddenly feeling the brothers’ attention on her again, Yui raised her face. She was met with their ominously glistening eyes. Their unusually sharp canine teeth were now plainly visible. It’s… like they’re…

“V-vampires…”

Yui reached for something in her pocket and held it up in front of her face.

“Eat this!”

It was the rosary that she’d gotten from her father. 

Vampires should be weak to crucifixes! However, much to her disappointment, the brothers didn’t cower in fear. From the sofa by the window where Shuu lay, Yui even heard a low, mocking laugh.

“Huh?” 

Why didn’t it do anything?

“Good grief…” Reiji said, exasperated. “The theories that vampires are weak to garlic, crucifixes, the sun, and that sort of thing��� are all myths invented by humans. Did you earnestly expect that to work on us? That only proves how foolish you humans really are. This is most displeasing.”

Oh…

Yui made a dash for the door.

“You really haven’t an ounce of discipline, have you?” she heard Reiji say irritatedly from behind her as she ran.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sound of Yui’s desperate, careless footsteps echoed through the entrance hall as she ran. The thought that they were not just no ordinary humans, but actual vampires, was incomprehensible. 

I have to get out of here as fast as I can!

Having run blindly focused on getting away, Yui came to a halt. Wait, which way should I even go? She wasn’t sure if it was because the mansion was so big, but there were so many hallways that looked so similar to one another that she quickly lost track of where she was. However, she had no time to hesitate. I have to run, or they’ll catch up to me…

Yui sped off again at the memory of the threatening look in their eyes.

Shortly after that, she spotted a table loaded with different kinds of sweets at the end of the hall. What is this doing here? As she eyed the sweets in suspicion, Kanato suddenly appeared from the shadow under the table. 

“I’ll break you.”

“Oh!”

The way Kanato smiled at her made her quickly continue her path. What was he doing there?

A small desk with a landline phone on it caught Yui’s attention when she turned the corner into another hallway. 

Good, I can use it to contact my father… If I can, I could make it out of here somehow… Yui picked up the receiver, but the cord that she thought had been connected to the phone before had now been cut. 

Oh no… Briefly stunned, she lost hope. 

From somewhere in the distance, Laito’s voice called out to her. “Hehe… I told you you wouldn’t need a phone anymore living here.”

Yui frantically looked around to see where he was. Laito was nowhere in sight. 

“Come and find me, Bitchlet…”

He probably enjoyed the sight of her frightened. Laito’s voice made her shrink away in fear. While scrambling backwards, she bumped into someone, and Yui held her breath as she felt hands closing around her shoulders.

Please, no…

“Guess who?”

Yui yelped. 

Terrified by Laito whispering so close to her ear, she quickly shook off his hands and ran. 

When she somehow finally reached a door, it wouldn’t budge. No way! Why won’t it open?

“Please, please open!” She pounded her fists on the door, but it didn’t help at all. I’m going to have to look for a different way out…

Before she could move away, two hands reached out on either side of her and pushed Yui’s body against the door. It was Ayato.

“Where are you going? This is the part where you scream for my amusement. Let me hear you cry out, at the top of your lungs.”

Yui was trapped in his arms.

“You can’t run away, you know.”

The girl was somehow able to shake Ayato off as well, and ran in the opposite direction, deeper into the mansion. I’m better off finding a place to hide…

Upstairs, Yui found a room that looked suitable for hiding, but the door didn’t open when she turned the knob. As she ran down the dimly-lit hallway on the second floor, she heard the sound of something unlocking. 

Yui spotted a spiral staircase further down the hall. Did it come from up there? 

She followed the stairs and came to a stop in front of yet another door. Padlocks and chains were scattered on the floor before it. 

It’s unlocked. I should hide in there.

Yui went in and shut the door behind her.

The dim moonlight gave the room a gloomy atmosphere. Yui looked around. There were many pieces of furniture and paintings with sheets draped over them, as well as different kinds of tools. Everything was covered in a layer of dust, making it seem like nobody ever came in here. It might be a storage room, Yui thought as she padded through the room to a dresser. Her eyes fell onto the accessories spread out on top of it, which were adorned with gemstones and glittered in the moonlight. But if they’re laid out like this, this must be someone’s room after all? 

Yui’s gaze unintentionally shifted to the window.

A woman was standing on the balcony.

The woman’s back was turned to Yui, so she couldn’t see her face, but her long purple hair shone in the moonlight. She gave off an elegant aura in her long dress, which was almost as purple as her hair.

The purple-haired woman noticed Yui’s presence. Just as she turned to look at her, an intense pain spread through Yui’s torso.

Yui choked on air.

What’s happening? 

She had never experienced such pain in her chest before. 

I can’t breathe… Her heart started beating erratically, her vision slowly becoming blurry. The pain was so severe that she lost her footing and collided with the bookcase along the wall, sending books tumbling to the floor. Yui could only focus on bearing the agony. 

After a little while, the pain subsided. 

What on Earth was that?

Yui snuck another glance towards the window, but saw nothing but the new moon in the night sky outside. Did I just imagine all of that? The pain in her chest and the illusion of that woman might not even be so strange in the line of things that had already happened today.

The books that had fallen from the bookcase caught Yui’s attention. Alongside a number of books was a leatherbound notebook. Her eyes stopped on a picture that had slipped out from between the pages when she had bumped into the bookcase.

“This is… Dad?!”

The picture depicted a priest holding a small, sleeping baby. So that baby is…

“Me?”

But how did this picture get here?

When Yui looked at the notebook from which the picture had slipped out, the writer summarised their day’s events and achievements in a familiar handwriting.

“So this is my father’s diary. But why?” 

Why would it be here of all places? I might understand if I look inside.

She opened the diary and began reading.

Yui brings me so much joy. The fact that she is not my own child bears no meaning at all. She is truly a blessing, and I am nothing but grateful for every day I get to spend with her…

Yui could not believe her eyes.

“What does he mean, I’m not my father’s child? What is this diary even doing here?” 

Am I not his biological child? It couldn’t be so…

“To think you went into this room, of all places.”

The sudden sound of Reiji’s voice made Yui look up, and she saw that the Sakamaki brothers had somehow all gathered in the room in the blink of an eye.

“This is a forbidden room. Nobody is allowed inside.” Reiji glanced at the door and let out a heavy sigh. “I will have to put new locks on it.”

“Really, though. How did you even get in, Bitchlet?” Laito asked and crouched down before her, but even Yui did not know why the room had been unlocked. 

I didn’t even unlock it myself…

Yui tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t quite come out.

Kanato stood before her as well, leering down at her. “You’re nothing but food, so please stay still so I can eat.”

“I-I’m not food…”

“Quit complaining already.”

Yui shrieked when Subaru slammed a fist into the wall like he had before, sending more books falling from the bookcase to the floor.

“Oh, not again, Subaru.”

“Fuck off.”

While Laito and Subaru bickered with one another, Yui looked on, frightened beyond her wits. What should I do? I’m surrounded. There’s no way I can run now. 

What are they going to do with me?

“That face…”

Someone grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. There was Ayato, his face splitting into a satisfied grin.

“It’s so tempting.”

“Let me have a bite, too!”

“I want to lick her.”

“N-no…”

The triplets started towards Yui.

“You have no right to refuse. The only thing you need to know is this: you can most definitely not run from us,” Reiji stated plainly.

“Beating around the bush, as always. What he means to say is that we’ll kill you if you try to get away.”

Yui had no choice. She was surrounded by the triplets as she quietly took in Reiji’s and Subaru’s words. On either side of her, Ayato and Laito took turns turning her neck this way and that, and when Kanato stretched out a hand towards her, Yui let out a fearful scream.

“Please stop!”

CRASH!

Yui screamed, and the sound of glass breaking pierced the air. The triplets, who had been swarming around her in an attempt to steal her blood, snapped their heads in the direction of the sound.

A few landscape paintings had fallen over by Shuu’s feet, and glass was scattered all across the floor. 

“My bad,” Shuu said, and turned his back toward her. Yui’s eyes must not have conveyed her desperate need to be saved from the triplets.

While she was rooted in place, terrified, the realisation dawned over Yui.

Even if I run, I have nowhere to go.

“Hey, Pancake.”

Yui, still startled at the nickname, turned around. Her mind could barely keep up when Ayato grabbed her by the throat and pushed her down onto the floor.

“Are you ready to accept your fate?”

His eyes had a dangerous twinkle in them as he hovered over her. Yui could no longer find the resolve to move away. Ayato pinned her to the floor and held her gaze, his sharp fangs glistening in the light of the new moon peeking through the window. 

Please, save me…

“Oh, God!”

However, Yui’s voice never reached Him.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

CS Winter Bingo--Square 3 (holiday decorating): A Match Faked for Christmas, ch. 2

Hi there and happy holiday season!  In an attempt to continue procrastinating my season 4 rewatch drabbles–and to not feel guilty about it–I decided to participate in the CS Winter Bingo event.  I received nine winter/holiday related prompts arranged in a square like a bingo card.  My mission is to make a bingo by writing at least three of my prompts before winter is over, but I’m hoping to do better than that!  I’m hoping to finish all nine!  Given the nature of the event, you can expect a lot of fluff (but then what else would you expect from me, after all?)  I’m hoping to keep them short as well, but I’m usually not nearly as successful at that.  And without further ado, let’s play CS Winter Bingo!

Rating: G

Word count: 1391

Today’s prompt: Fake Dating: Holiday Edition

Other chapters: (1) (2) (4) (5) (6)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A Match Faked for Christmas–Chapter 2

Killian had expected to spend a rather lonely and boring holiday season.  His brother, his last remaining family, had passed unexpectedly more than five years ago now, and his former girlfriend, Milah, had left him earlier that summer for another man.  (It was the sting of that rejection, in fact, that had led him to relocate to Storybrooke several months ago.)

The result was that he expected to have no one with which to spend the festive season.  Oh, he’d received an invitation to the Christmas party the Nolan’s were hosting on Christmas Eve, but he wasn’t even sure he planned to accept.  There was something supremely depressing about attending a party with a group of happy people when one was not similarly happy.

What he hadn’t expected was Emma Swan.

He’d noticed his next-door neighbor from the moment he moved in next to her.  She was gorgeous, of course, but it was more than that.  There was an undeniable spark, an undeniable attraction far beyond what he would normally feel for a beautiful woman he was just meeting.  He hadn’t felt anything like this at least since the moment he met Milah–maybe not even then.

Belonging.  He felt like they belonged together, as ridiculous as that sounded.

He’d tested the waters upon first meeting her, flirting, showing interest, making it abundantly clear that should she be amenable, he’d love to explore the connection between the two of them.

But she’d made it equally–and rather frostily–clear that she had no interest in his attentions, and so he’d backed off.

When the first cheesy, homemade Christmas card arrived, at first he’d wondered if he’d misjudged the situation.  Perhaps it wasn’t that she’d summarily rejected him.  Perhaps she was simply reserved or shy.  When the second, third and fourth arrived, he’d become suspicious, and when the fifth arrived just as Mary Margaret Nolan went past on her nightly walk with the Nolan’s dog Wilby, he was certain his suspicions had merit.

“Anything interesting in the mail today?” she asked casually–far too casually–as she stopped beside his home.

Oh yes, his instincts were certainly correct.  The handmade cards were far more the bubbly Mary Margaret’s style than the aloof Emma Swan’s.

When the final card arrived, with its overly sappy, romantic sentiment, he knew it was time to discuss the matter with Emma herself.

He didn’t know what he’d expected from the conversation, but one thing was for certain.  He hadn’t expected to return to his home with the new-found title of Fake Boyfriend.

He couldn’t say he was upset with the arrangement.  Being Emma’s boyfriend–even if the relationship was a sham–would necessitate they spend time together, wouldn’t it?  Perhaps the time together and the shared deception would soften the lovely Miss Swan’s heart.  Stranger things had happened, particularly at this magical time of year.

And so it was the day after their bargain was struck, that Killian found himself ambling over to Emma’s door, two steaming mugs of cocoa in hand.

It took her some time to come to the door–so long, in fact that Killian was on the point of leaving–and when she did, it was abundantly clear, he’d woken her.  Her hair was a riotous tumble around her shoulders, she wore plaid pajamas and big fuzzy slippers.  Her eyes were barely open.

Even just rolling out of bed like this, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Killian, what the hell are you doing knocking on my door this damn early on a Saturday morning?” she asked, arms crossed angrily in front of her.

“Early?” he asked, breezing past her into her home, “Swan, it’s 10:30 am.”

“On a Saturday,” she reiterated grumpily.

“I apologize for waking you,” he said, holding out one of the styrofoam cups to her. “I come with a peace offering.”

She took the cup without a word, one eyebrow going up as she peered up at him.  Finally she brought it to her lips and took a swig.  “Hot cocoa,” she said appreciatively, cupping her hands around the warm beverage.  “And you added cinnamon! How did you know to add cinnamon?”

He shrugged.  “Took a chance, love,” he said.  “I like it that way, I thought perhaps you might too.”

She took another long sip, humming appreciatively, the sound so primal, it sent a bolt of longing straight through him.  “Well your chance paid off.  Since you plied me with cocoa, I’m feeling significantly less homicidal about you waking me.”

He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

“So why are you here,” she asked after a moment.

“Keeping up appearances,” he said cheerfully.  “After all, if we’re to make Mary Margaret Nolan believe that we are in a relationship, we really should spend some time together.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said softly, almost under her breath.  “So what exactly did you have in mind for us to do to keep up appearances.  What should we do to convince the nosy neighbors that we’re an item?”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously in response, and she chuckled.  “Whatever it is you’re thinking, no.”

He put a dramatic hand to his chest.  “You cut me to the heart, Swan.”

Her chuckle turned to a full blown laugh at that and she playfully swatted his arm.  “You are an idiot.”

He merely grinned–like an idiot–in response.

“So let me rephrase,” she said after a moment.  “What do you have in mind that doesn’t put a look like THAT on your face?”

Killian looked around her sparsely furnished apartment.  “Swan, it’s a week until Christmas and you haven’t got a single decoration up, so I propose that be our couple mission for the day.  We must get you a tree and make this place festive!”

For a long moment he thought she was going to refuse, but finally she nodded.  “Fine, as long as you help me take it down when the season’s over.  Give me few minutes to make myself presentable.”

“You look beautiful already,” he said simply, and his grin grew when her cheeks pinkened at the compliment, “but as to your terms I accept.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That evening, David Nolan found his wife standing in front of their front window, peering intently across the street.  He chuckled, as he put an arm around her waist.  “You know Mary Margaret, I suspect our neighbors would be none too pleased to know the extent to which you spy on them.”

She turned and gave him a quick kiss before returning her focus to Emma Swan’s home. “They’ll get over it,” she said.  “David, look how well our plan is working!  They’ve spent the whole day together.  Look how happy they are!”

David dutifully looked in the direction his wife was pointing, and had to admit the couple in question did look like they were enjoying their time together.  They’d put a large, full Christmas tree in front of the picture window and had trimmed it with lights, garland, ornaments, talking and laughing as they did so.  Now nearly finished with their task, Emma stepped up on a ladder to place the star on the top.  The angle was awkward, and she leaned precariously, finally placing the topper just right….before windmilling her arms, losing her balance, and falling directly into Killian’s arms down below.

Mary Margaret actually cackled, clapping her hands in delight at that display.  “Just look at them!” she said triumphantly.  The two across the street stood still for a long moment–Emma in Killian’s arms, both looking into each other’s eyes in surprise and perhaps something more.  “At this rate they’ll be engaged by New Years!”

“I wouldn’t bet against you and your matchmaking skills, honey,” he said with a laugh.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: Well, I didn’t manage to include nearly as many cheesy Hallmark movie tropes as I would have liked into this chapter, but I managed to include hot cocoa and “one character falling and the other catching them before staring into each other’s eyes”, lol.

Something tells me this “fake” relationship might not be shaping up to be quite as fake as Emma thinks it is!

Up next: caroling!

NEXT CHAPTER->

[ramblingzombpossum]

So, I have several new characters despite not 'joining any new games'.

It's failed, horribly.

My husband and I have started several games, one he is running is an open game that anyone is welcome to join called En Garde! Via a Discord server.

I have 2 characters in the game, after retiring my first. (He hit his end game, got to SL 10, married his mistress, was a King's Musketeer for a few months, debt free, and is now running an inn that'll be used as a backdrop for other things.)

Second character is Serge de Bordeaux, the bastard of an impoverished Comte, he is looking to make a name for himself, and prove he's not his father (he's better.) He is a cock sure 18 year old, and he currently needs a good bit of money to get out of debt, and then begin climbing the social ladder.

Newest character is Solitaire Énveré (real name Soléne Anouihl), a 'married' 16 year old, Sol goes by her childhood nickname and 'married' her best friend Céline Beauchamp (alias Alizee Énveré). They are both very new to Paris, and they are not in fact a real couple. Sol has no interest in being a man, but they both understand how much is closed to single women in the likes of 1626 Paris due to social norms, so they set out to make their life a bit better and see the City for themselves. They've made some friends, and make a big show of 'just being married', with Sol being a bit more quiet as she tries to keep up her charade.

For another game we have started called Honor and Introgue, I have a youngish (21-22) year old pirate in the Caribbean, she has very little interest in settling down, though is a hopeless romantic. She has been sailing the Caribbean for 3 years, after leaving England originally during the Protestant Reformation. Relocating with her uncle and cousin to Italy, where she found the life her uncle offered was not at all palatable. She ran off, leaving her family behind and learning Italian before meeting a man and his son, who took her in, taught her how to fight the Italian Duel style, she took off once more when the son died and the man threw her out (then died, and she is now being blamed for that, because SURPRISE! The son isn't actually dead.)

Anyway, I am super excited to see where she winds up, at the moment she has done her best to refuse anything higher than First Mate/Quartermaster on a ship. She has been enlisted by the Pirate King of Tortuga as his quartermaster at the moment, as they attempt to get enough treasure to keep his position. (She has an enemy of the Admiral of the Spanish Navy's wife, because of an affair, and she is basically on the run from her brother who is a Captain in the Navy. He's being paid by her to hunt Sybil down and kill her.) Said Captain is backing another Pirate captain who is using fine goods to Garner votes from the others to become the Pirate King himself, and then a puppet for the Spanish Naval Man.

Right now there is a chance Sybil dies, but it all goes according to plan, she is likely to be shoved out by the Pirate King as he announces he's retiring, and throwing her in as the next King. (Which she will absolutely hate, and I look forward to the big climactic battle for this portion, as we will end the story after Tortuga's fate is decided.)

THEN my husband has the audacity to be like "I really want to play Fate." So he kept pitching me ideas, until he suggested what boils down to basically Bridgerton meets Spider-man with Swashbuckling.

I fell on playing Matilda Whitlock, a woman just reaching age to attend the Ton, and be touted about for marriage. Her brother and her are the only two living members of their family, after their parents are killed off for land disputes (we aren't actually sure yet). Nathan, her brother is a gambler, and has been running the family into poverty, he is pursued by debt collectors, and they are at risk of losing everything.

Matilda in our one session played so far, has been very clear in her disdain of being married off, not because she doesn't want a husband. Secretly she longs to find a man she loves and could spend her life with much like her mother and father, however, she has spent the last several years learning to fight, to take on the cities criminals, and slowly gaining insight on who killed her parents.

She is a haughty, stubborn woman of society during the day, attending tea, entertaining visits of men, and doing her duty no matter how much she bucks against it.

At night she dressed in a black outfit, complete with black mask, and has been deemed 'The Black Goat' by the citizens and criminals alike. All believe the Goat is nothing more than a vigilante man, playing at being more than he is. She has proven in her one session a competent fighter, as well as more than happy to use her skills for somewhat selfish reasons. (She went after debt collectors who took her jewelry to pay off her brother's debts.)

I can not wait to see where all these new characters go, especially as we wrap up other games.

Coming to an end are Burning Wheel (Burning Seas), which I have a feeling is going to end with Jerica's death.

Burning Wheel (Burning Stars) with @artbyakikira , who has been a delight as a Roden named Bumper, but we will answer so many questions, will my elf die? Or will she cling to life and keep Galluchanar alive as well? Will my dwarf continue to fight for her birth right? Or will she accept her adopted brother and let him take the throne? Will she die fighting against the corrupted elves, or will she die fighting the elven army marching on Maraknaplana to keep the dwarves from taking the mountain and possibly releasing the stars once more?

We are also wrapping up our Pathfinder for Savage Worlds game coming to an end. I feel Bacun is going to either not make it, or she's going to be lost to rage when she loses another friend.

13th Age with Terach is also coming to an end soon, our current quest to save the ancient Red Dragon Ethridge from the Lich King's poison is coming to an end. Leaving us wondering if our Druid will die to his patron of the Dragon Druid circle, if our Drow will be able to survive as the pair of dragons go at it, and if Terach will make it out of Ethridge's mind alive, or if they're doomed to become apart of a Dracholich.

Once this story arc is wrapped we head into Level 10, and start working on the Crusader's final assault and trying to end him. (I'm really curious what is going to happen, considering Terach is a Chaotic gremlin and could swing either way at the drop of a hat.)

Then we have Beyond the Wall, season 2 coming to an end. This game is a follow up in 5E from a previous game of Beyond the Wall, and is culminating in some very exciting times as we head into the mountain once again, to face off against our former ally and friend, to keep the world from ending.

We may finally get an answer from Amelio, the alf-elf fighter/paladin on who he wants to settle down with as well, the lovely elf who restored his voice, or the loyal and charming Tiefling he has been oblivious to until a big kiss (and mother and friend intervention and they forced him to tell Amelio. :P)

So many games are wrapping, but I'm hopeful to get to know these new duet characters, and explore who they are, what they want, and how far they are willing to go.

[adventuresinclientservice]

Why early failure does not mean future failure.

In 2012, in search of better weather, Roberta and I abandoned our Manhattan residence, buying a house and relocating to Napa.  I call it the second-best decision I ever made (it’s easy to guess what the first one is).

We love our by-the-water home, but if all goes as planned, we soon will decamp to a different residence.  I’m now approaching my mid-70s; it makes sense to simplify.  Simplification means more liquidity, less worry.  It means renting a house, not owning a home.

Simplifying also means winnowing and discarding, ridding ourselves of items we no longer need, use, or want.  Among other tasks, we worked our way through two file cabinets of easy-to-part-with records and reports accumulated over the better part of a lifetime.   

Some things, however, you do not discard.

One of these you see above:  Bobby’s Compositions book for Ms. Rafael’s second grade class, a priceless bit of personal history.  (Note:  everyone called the growing-up me “Bobby,” a fractured diminutive I found embarrassing; at 24 I jettisoned it for the more preferable “Robert.”)  If you were to turn the page, you would see the book is designated as a “Lesson Boob,” foreshadowing seven-year-old Bobby’s problem with language.

Here’s a graded test, one of many that demonstrated Bobby’s struggles with English.  The problem grew so acute and worrisome, that summer Bobby’s parents paid for a qualified and capable private tutor, someone who could help.  Regular learning sessions largely supplanted a season almost entirely devoted to outdoor play, focused on teaching Bobby how to spell.

Did it work?

It took years of effort, a second tutor during high school, punctuated by repeated setbacks large and small, with one graduate-school teacher casting a cold eye on one of my assignment papers, commenting, “I am not wild about your writing style,” but considering where I was compared with where I now am, I’d say yes.  

Improvement required consistent dedication to process, slow, painful, and often disappointing, which yielded progress, raising a question:  why did someone who was verbally challenged emerge as a published author and resident deck swami, adept at all forms of writing for commerce?

The teachers didn’t change how they taught.  The student did.

Driven by fear, motivated to improve, with the help of we-won’t-give-up others, I became better at learning.  Looking back on it, it was about developing the equivalent of muscle memory; the more I learned, the more determined to learn more I became.  Instead of treating my mistakes and missteps as failures, I began to see them as opportunities to get better. 

My first job out of college was working for Ron Hendren, who at the time led George Washington University’s PR office.  One day Ron dispatched me to the  school’s Registrar office to look up the backgrounds of a couple of soon-to-graduate students.  I did so, but then took a detour, locating my own record in the seemingly endless rows of filing cabinets. 

In it I discovered a letter of assessment from my high school, projecting I would be a 2.0 GPA (grade-point average) student – essentially a “D” – with commentary that sentenced me to a life of less-than-mediocre professional performance.

I had just graduated "with distinction" and as a member of the academic honor society Phi Beta Kappa, having the highest grade-point average among students in my major, along with being a Danforth scholarship nominee.  I was at the start of my prove-them-wrong journey.

There is a disclaimer financial service institutions commonly invoke with investors:  "Past performance is not a predictor of future success." By extension, it is not a predictor of future failure either.

The next time you are thwarted by setbacks, stymied in pursuit of a career, or generally struggling to succeed, remember how this phrase applies to me, and how it absolutely should apply to you.

[race-week]

Paddocks Power Couple? We’re too Ordinary.

Times article - here in full.

Susie and Toto Wolff are the power couple of motorsport, although mention it to them and Susie will grimace and explain why she hates that label.

“It sounds so corny,” she says. “This idea that we’re a power couple, I don’t see it. We have struggles that normal couples have of managing family logistics, especially with our jobs involving so much travel.

“We support each other massively. Obviously there has been success along the way, which we’re not just proud of but grateful for. So no, I don’t relate to this power couple tag.”

They certainly have achieved success. Toto is in charge of Mercedes, who have won the driver and manufacturer championships in Formula One for the past seven years and are in contention to make it eight this season. The 49-year-old Austrian oversees all Mercedes’ motorsport programmes, including Venturi Racing in Formula E (FE), which Susie, a 38-year-old Scot, is in charge of. A few weeks ago they found themselves at the FE season finale in Berlin, both covered in champagne with reasons to celebrate.

Nyck de Vries had just won the drivers’ championship for Mercedes, while Norman Nato had won the race for Venturi and was joined on the podium by Susie, who took over the reins in 2018 and has turned around the team’s fortunes. It was a double celebration for Venturi as their other driver, Edoardo Mortara, finished second in the championship. There was no big party, however. They had promised their four-year-old son, Jack, that they would be home that night and he had been allowed to stay up late to wait for their arrival. “We’re not really good at celebrations,” Toto says. “For us what we do is just to be there for each other. That evening, flying back to Jack who was waiting in his pyjamas and then we had a late dinner.

“Though, wait, maybe if I tell you about my alcohol consumption the other day,” Toto says as he lets out a big laugh, and who could blame him for allowing himself a day off?

They are speaking while on holiday in Sardinia, where they have managed to find a week to spend together as a family. The final FE race fell in the middle of the F1 summer break and Jack was sent to stay with his grandparents in Scotland while the couple both worked. They have a rule that Jack is not allowed at the track when they are working.

This is because they think that it is unfair on Jack and the staff, who travel so much and cannot bring their own families to races. You get the sense that their style of management is as similar as their sense of humour.

The interview is conducted over video but their camera is turned off, which Susie explains is the result of her pale Scottish skin now being the colour of a lobster. Her husband joins the conversation a minute later and jokingly disagrees with the lobster comparison, saying her skin resembles the Austrian flag, courtesy of the tan lines from her swimsuit. This makes the man from Vienna and his wife laugh a lot.

The pair continue to bounce off each other throughout the interview, something that comes from their ten years of marriage. Toto is also quick to praise his wife’s talent as a team principal and says that he would happily work for her one day.

“I would work for her immediately,” Toto says. “If she comes up with a good project and she pays me well and I can have a share of the business, yeah, I will do it in a heartbeat. And I mean it seriously.”

The feeling, though, is not reciprocated and Susie is adamant that she would maintain her independence. “For me it was a conscious decision not to work for Toto, because as his wife it would have been seen as nepotism; also I had to stand on my own two feet,” Susie says. “I had to find my own project.

“So that’s why I went off to find my own challenge. But when I was discussing it with Toto, this idea of maybe doing something in Formula E or becoming team principal, he said, ‘Go for it, absolutely go for it.’ ”

Jack was only one when she took the job, but starts school next month in Monaco, to where they have recently relocated from Switzerland. They live down the road from Lewis Hamilton. The Mercedes driver has already been over for dinner and plays with Jack, even giving him one of his helmets.

“Jack asked the other day when [the next] race is, as he realised there hadn’t been one for a while,” Susie says. “I told him how many sleeps away it was and he said, ‘OK, because I’m thinking that maybe I’m going to give Lewis my helmet.’ I said no to him and explained Lewis had given him his helmet and you don’t have to give it back.”

Most children are in awe of the best drivers, which explains Jack’s disappointment upon discovering that his dad does not actually drive the cars. “I say I’m going to my race cars, and then he can relate to that, to the race cars,” Toto says. “Until like, one year ago, he thought that I was actually driving the car. So that came a little bit as a disappointment that I wasn’t.”

He is impressed, though, to know that his mum used to race. Susie became the first woman in 20 years to take part in an F1 weekend when she drove during free practice at the 2014 British Grand Prix. She was a development driver for Williams, which is how she met Toto, who was an investor in the team before he moved to Mercedes in 2013.

With F1’s second half of the season packed full of races, the Wolffs are enjoying the last day of their holiday and preparing to go to the beach.

With two parents who are such big names in motorsport, it seems likely that their son will follow them into it. But for now it is time for the one thing that they have made clear they both prioritise over anything else: their family.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader.  The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think.  Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP!   BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP!  BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms.  Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out.  Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift.  But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters.  As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent.  It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills. 

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off.  Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed.  “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.”  I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space.  It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures.  Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together.  Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting.  She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief.  Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order.  First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix.  Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the  Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space. 

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels.  Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone.  “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component.  The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is.  Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily.  Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something.  I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion.  The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom.  Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it.  Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

<< Prev  Masterlist  Next >>

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH62

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 62: The Queen’s Inheritance (I)

"Here, this is the ancient lake." A guide brought the two men to a huge underground lake and said, "The buildings near here were built during the first generation of Dragon Ant Queens, and by now most of them have become damaged and collapsed. It’s said that most of them were in the architectural styles of the demon world. Later, with the entry of human beings, some later Dragon Ant Queens were of human origins, and the style gradually moved closer to that of the human world."

Qi Leren and Ning Zhou stood in front of the ruins of ancient buildings, watching the vast underground lake ahead. The rich water vapor formed a dense fog that hovered over the underground lake. With a burst of wind coming from underground caves, the fog was blown away only to reform.

The wonderful thing was that there were a lot of fluorescent plankton floating in the lake, which were a deep fluorescent blue amidst the smokey fog. This huge underground lake was like a night sky with thin clouds, with bright stars in its vast expanse.

"The scenery here is good, yet it seems that there aren’t many people?" Qi Leren asked.

The guide mused: "In the early years, there were still people living here, but I don't know when it started: there were frequent violent conflicts here, and the chaos was even worse than that in the lower city. With the water monster incident, the residents who were here moved."

"Water monster?" Qi Leren looked back at the fluorescent underground lake again. "Is there a water monster in it?"

"Yes, there was a monster attack on the nearby residents, which caused thousands of deaths. It alarmed the Dragon Ant Queen, and she then ordered for all of them to be relocated," the guide said.

Qi Leren whispered to Ning Zhou, "What does a water monster look like?"

Ning Zhou thought about it: "A strange shape."

This is equal to saying nothing. Qi Leren blinked in confusion. On second thought, the monster was also a kind of monster. Of course, there were all kinds of monsters, some of which were serious and some of which were casual.

"Is this monster a devil? Or a demon?" Qi Leren asked again.

Although devils and demons had similar names, there were obvious differences. There were many races with rational minds and human features among devils, but no matter how powerful demons were, their bodies were obviously non-human, and they had no rational and normal cognitive ability.

The guide shook his head and said, "We don't know. The monster appeared once and then disappeared. Maybe the Dragon Ant Queen took the shot to clean it up."

"Then there would be no need to move," Ning Zhou hit the nail on the head.

"That’s also true." The guide smiled bitterly. "We aren’t qualified to know the inside story of this confidential matter."

"Where did Mrs Kathleen say she saw the person she thought was Ashley?" Qi Leren asked.

"In the area over here, please come with me." The guide pointed to a palace-style building complex that had been submerged by the lake, and walked there with the two people.

There was almost no light source from the sun in the Underground Ant City, but the creatures here naturally developed methods to see. Both humans and demons would eat foods that enhanced night vision. In addition, there were fluorescent fungi and vegetation everywhere, and the demand for light here had dropped dramatically over time. If you suddenly returned to the surface, it would be difficult to adapt because of the strong light.

After Qi Leren broke his shell, his eyesight had improved a lot. Along with eating the food suggested by Celia, walking in the dim underground world didn't hinder him now, but occasionally he would stumble on the uneven ground because of carelessness. After all, there wasn’t very good infrastructure in the Nightmare World, and few places had flat cement or asphalt roads except the Twilight Township.

Ning Zhou walked half a step slower than him, which proved to be very important, because when Qi Leren stumbled, he reacted very quickly to catch him with one hand.

He wouldn't say "I'll carry you", but in fact he did.

When the guide looked back and was about to speak, his open mouth got stuck in his face when he saw the hands being held between the two men, and his voice became a cough.

Ning Zhou deadpanned, as if two men walking hand in hand was a matter of course. Qi Leren pretended to look at the scenery: "The scenery here is really good. It would be nice to walk around nearby when we have time."

Ning Zhou also responded to him: "Hmm."

The guide doesn't quite understand what was worth going on a date for in a place where there were water monsters and people often went missing and were killed... He would want to leave, but he strongly wore an awkward but polite smile: "Yes, but pay attention to safety."

Qi Leren had discovered that Ning Zhou was very shy in some aspects, but very "calm" in other aspects. For example, if he thought that two people who were engaged could hold hands, he wouldn’t care about the situation or feel embarrassed to be seen.

But by the same token, he decided that what he couldn't do before getting married was impossible without getting married.

Qi Leren, like an infatuated teenager, was stirring under the influence of hormones. At the same time, he felt that he was a dirty adult compared to the pure Ning Zhou. He had just fallen in love and he had already begun to think about their sex life.

At this moment, Qi Leren was very optimistic and confident that he should be able to push Ning Zhou down. After all, Ning Zhou was so pure, how could he be the more dominant one? But he couldn't be in such a hurry. It wasn’t good to intimidate Ning Zhou. He should start teaching at the primary level. For example, he should find a chance to teach him how to kiss at the right time, in the right place, and with the right atmosphere.

A little excited inside, a little expectant, and a little shy, Qi Leren couldn't help but show an excessively happy smile.

Guide: I don't know why, but I feel like an eyesore, so I should hurry away…

After taking them to their destination, the guide left for his other tasks, leaving only Qi Leren and Ning Zhou walking slowly in the ruins of this palace.

The surrounding buildings had indeed been seriously damaged, but they can vaguely see the distinctive style. For example, there were only a few rows of scattered columns left in this building that were similar to a Greek temple. The height of the complete columns was more than 40 meters, which was already magnificent from a distance. When you looked closer, it would take seven or eight people to hug each column. Standing under the column and looking up, this amazing height was awe-inspiring. Because the foundation had fallen and the lake’s water had risen, the temple had become tilted altogether. The north half had been submerged in the lake and only showed slightly above the water, while the south part had not been swallowed up by the lake water at all.

"The buildings in the underworld are usually much taller than those in the human world," Ning Zhou said.

"Why?" Qi Leren asked.

Ning Zhou looked at the rows of neat but damaged columns in front and said slowly, "Because many demons don't like to maintain human form."

Qi Leren immediately thought of the huge black dragon in the lake of fire. With its size, it could only move in such a huge building. He didn't know if the dragon-shaped devils had some special hobbies, such as collecting gold coins and treasures…

"There are traces of fighting here." Ning Zhou's voice awakened Qi Leren who was still sleepwalking.

Qi Leren quickly recovered and observed it carefully. The damage caused by natural collapse was different from that caused by fighting. Qi Leren was inexperienced, but Ning Zhou could see it at a glance and even recover some details of the battle in his mind. For example, the column in front of him was broken by fighting, and the blood at his foot was left by severe scratches when the person was hit and flew to the ground.

"They were two masters, at least one was injured," Ning Zhou said.

"In my impression, although Mrs Kathleen's subordinate had the seed of slaughter, his strength was average," Qi Leren recalled.

"Someone’s here!" Ning Zhou pulled Qi Leren behind the column.

Both of them were silent, regulating their breathing and heartbeats.

In the distance, there came a group of people's slight footsteps, the sound of cloth dragging on the ground, and even light.

A mysterious group passed through the hall, carrying bone lamps in their hands, and wearing heavy long cloaks with hoods covering their faces. This group of people, with their heads down, recited words like spells in a low voice, and when he listened attentively, he could tell they were hypnotized.

Qi Leren gave himself a quick pinch, and Ning Zhou looked at him with concern. Qi Leren pointed to his lips and pointed to the mysterious cloaked figures, beckoning to be careful of their spells. Seeing that Ning Zhou wasn’t affected, Qi Leren was a little reassured.

The front row of the group consisted of cloaks carrying bone lamps, but the rear was a group of ragged human beings. Their eyes were closed, and everyone's face showed a look of intoxication and a trance-like state, with strange smiles. Like a group of docile sheep, they walked forward under the guidance of the cloaks.

Qi Leren felt bad at once. What were these cloaked people doing?

Ning Zhou suddenly felt something, and his eyes stared straight at one of the people moving forward. The man looked as unarmed and smiling as the people around him, but when Ning Zhou looked at him, he also turned his head, grinned at him with great interest, and then continued walking before the cloaked people found out.

There was no road ahead, and the northern part of this temple had been submerged in the underground lake. If they went further, there would be only the lake water filled with fluorescent algae. However, as if they could not see the road, these people walked towards the lake with their bone lamps and vague spells.

As they approached, the fluorescence on the lake became more and more bright. At once, the stars converged into a dazzling blue, which made people’s eyesight white out!

A wonderful voice sounded in the light, and it was difficult to describe whether it was a song or a spell. It was like a devout prayer of the devout and a desperate cry of the dying, which made Qi Leren shiver all over. In the void, there seemed to be a huge eyeball watching everyone in this land, including the two people hiding behind the column.

Qi Leren's eyes widened, his heart thumped, and his whole body seemed to be petrified under the spell.

Under this strange sound, this group of mysterious cloaked people walked into the blue light, and were quickly swallowed by the light.

The blue light gradually went out, and the fluorescent plants on the lake faded again, but the cloaked and human figures could no longer be seen in the temple. Everything was silent, absurd, and terrifying.

"What was that...?" Qi Leren woke up from the fear of being shocked just now and leaned in Ning Zhou’s direction.

"A cult sacrifice." Ning Zhou was more experienced than he was, so it wasn’t difficult to see what this group of people were going to do. He was more concerned about the person who had smiled at him from the crowd just now. That person had obviously noticed the two people hiding behind the column, but didn’t expose their existence. And he himself, for whatever reason, seemed to be playing the role of cult sacrifice.

"Where did they go?" Qi Leren asked again.

"They should have entered a fixed half-field. You remember that the members of the Slaughter Secret Society entered a half-field enchantment like this for secret ceremonies," Ning Zhou said.

Qi Leren suddenly realized that a similar situation had happened with the Slaughter Secret Society before, but this group of people were even more bizarre. He didn't know what they were.

"Which devil are these people going to sacrifice to?" Qi Leren asked.

"Not sure." Ning Zhou shook his head.

There were too many devils, and this was the Underground Ant City. Besides the worship of the Devil Kings, the worship of lower devils was also endless, and the situation was more complicated than any other place. However, the spells recited by this group of people were a little familiar, like a group of Utopia worshippers that Ning Zhou had once handled. That is, worshippers of the Lord of Power.

"Let’s hurry up and go back to Celia to see if there’s any way to get in. If we delay too long, this group of people will be in danger," Ning Zhou said.

-----

Editor’s Notes:

Ning Zhou: [taking his job very seriously]

Qi Leren: “Ning Zhou’s a bottom, right? He’s totally a bottom.”

Guide: “Please let me leave before you test your theory.”

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[elenamiria]

School’s in Session

Cobb Vanth x Reader

Rating: 16+ (I make up my own ratings at this point oh well) Summary: You, the teacher at the school in Mos Pelgo approaches Cobb to ask him for a favor - helping teach you how to protect yourself and the children if needed. When he goes above and beyond the call of duty you find yourself falling for the charming Marshal. Fic for @wolfangelwings​ for the 600 follower giveaway! (It turned out a bit more fluffy than spicy I hope you don’t mind 🥺) Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: Kissing, suggestive talk, fluff, gn!reader Masterlist &Tags (send an ask or message me if you’d like to be added):  @a-dorin​ @blxwjobsforclones​ @lynnie51​ @katrynec​ @mistermiraclee​ @theelvenvalkyrie​ @anakinswhore​

When you had been asked to take over as the teacher you had been surprised. Having been living and working as a moisture farmer with your family you had little idea why they picked you. However, it was the previous teacher, who had decided he was far too old to continue making the long trek from school to village each day, who recommended you as you had been his star student years ago. Retaining your sharp wit and thirst for knowledge had been easy with such a supportive family, who had always encouraged you to pursue greater things if you so chose but Mos Pelgo was your home and you couldn’t see that changing anytime soon. 

When you accepted the position the whole town was elated, you couldn't go anywhere without someone stopping to quip on how lucky they were to have you, always causing your face to heat and a quiet ‘thank you’ to flow from your mouth. It took several long months of training before you were ready to take on the role, with it being such a small town you were in charge of a wide age range of children and learning how to balance all of their learning at once was quite a challenge. It was something that you quickly found great joy in however. The second facet of your job was the safety of all the children. The school had been relocated a ways out from the village after it was freed from the Mining Collective in order to protect the most precious inhabitants of the village. 

So, every morning you gathered up all the children and made the trek to the school and every afternoon you would make the journey back, ensuring each child returned home safely. It was an easy routine to fall into and never one you worried about until the Tusken Raiders attacked. Even then you weren’t necessarily worried about the Tusken Raiders themselves it was the thought that you were taking some of the most vulnerable on the same path everyday at the same time and you worried a group like the Mining Collective could use that against the village. With that thought in mind you did the most logical thing you could think of and asked the Marshal to train you. 

Cobb had listened to your concerns and took a pause to think about the situation before he spoke, “How bout this, I’ll train you to use a blaster. But I’ll do you one better, as long as I’m free I’ll make the hike with you to and from the school.”

You had eagerly agreed feeling a weight off your shoulders and true to his word the very next day he was up waiting outside your house bright and early. There was something about him still blinking away the sleep from his eyes as he barely held onto his helmet that had you smiling like a fool at him, taken aback by the cuteness of it. You offered him a soft, “Good morning Marshal.”

He gave you a groggy smile before speaking, voice gruff from sleep, “Good Mornin’ teach’, and just Cobb is fine by me.”

The nickname had another smile covering your face and as you started the rounds of gathering the children up the two of you fell into an easy banter. You found it easy around Cobb, he was easy to talk with, easy to laugh with, and he was certainly easy on the eyes (not that you'd ever dare admit that to him). And the two of you fell into this rhythm each morning and each afternoon, and on the weekends when there wasn't any school he would meet up with you to train you on how to use a blaster. At first you had been nervous, scared of somehow letting him down, though he reassured you constantly and perhaps you let your stance falter occasionally just to have him come up behind you to adjust it. 

Falling for Cobb had never been part of the plan but like everything else it happened easily, the smiles he'd shoot you, the slight drawl in his words, and the way he seemed to relish in flustering you - always quipping about how pretty you looked or how your skin glowed under the Tatooine suns.  After months of this back and forth it became clear to you and the Marshal that your feelings both ran deeper than friends. However with your shy nature Cobb assumed if anyone was going to make a move it was going to have to be him, something that he was more than alright with. 

It happened on a day when school wasn't in session, you had gone up to the school building having forgotten some papers there that needed grading. Once you arrived you decided to stay there and take care of it, considering how hot the day was you were keen to stay inside for as long as possible. Lost in your work you barely noticed how much time had passed until a certain someone came strolling into the building. Looking up from your work you gave him a warm smile as you teased, "I don't know if you've noticed but school's not in session today sheriff." 

Cobb laughed lightly as he approached your table at the front, sending you a dashing smirk in response, "I don't know if you've noticed darlin' but I'm here for your lesson."

Your face creased in confusion for just a moment before the realization struck you that far more time must have passed than you thought and that you were late for your appointment with the Marshal. Shooting out of your seat you stammered out an apology as you hastily gathered up your things and started to scurry around to front of the desk where Cobb was standing. You had moved so quickly he had no time to tell you that it was fine and before he could blink you were before him, his hands found your waist as he stopped your movements with a short, "Whoa there darlin' you don't need to rush on account of me, I wasn't here to scold you."

When his warm palms settled on you it was as if all coherent thought flew from your head and you blinked rapidly as your breathing hitched. Staring rather blankly at him all you could manage to spit out was a short, "You weren't?"

Laughing again, and unintentionally causing your face to heat, Cobb shook his head - "No, I figured you were busy up here and so I came to keep you company teach'."

His words filtered through your hazy brain, he was there to spend time with you? Just you? Your eyes flickered down to his lips which were curved in his signature style and before you could stop yourself or even really think through the decision you were leaning forwards to press your lips to his. It took only a second for the Marshal to respond eagerly to you, his hands squeezing your waist and causing a short whine to leave your throat as your lips moved together. Your hands abandoned the papers you were holding, allowing them to flutter to the ground, in favor of grasping onto his shoulders as the kiss heated. His scruff scratched at your face delightfully and you opened up to him eagerly when he nipped at your bottom lip. You hadn't even noticed that the two of you were moving backwards until your legs bumped into your desk, a startled squeak leaving your mouth as you broke apart. Eyes sliding open you stared at Cobb for just a moment before both of you shared in a sweet laugh, wide grins adorning each of your faces. Biting your lip you looked down shyly before meeting his eyes again and whispering, "Well, that was nice."

"I'd say more than nice teach' and I'd be more than happy to do that again if you find yourself so inclined." He said, voice faltering only slightly as he regained his composure. Another smile covered your lips as the fact that he wanted to kiss you more sunk in and your eyes shone with happiness as you questioned, "You wanna kiss me again Marshal?"

His eyes narrowed playfully as he urged you up on your desk, your hands shoving things out of your way as you sat on it and you innocently spread your legs to make room for him to stand close to you. Cobb's hands settled on your upper thighs, though not inappropriately but you'd be lying if you said it didn't set your heart racing, and he near growled out - "Oh, I wanna do a whole lot more than kissing darlin' but I'll let you take the lead on this. Whatever you wish is my command."

You shook your head at his playful words, your hands exploring his chest and the nape of his neck as you shot him a light smirk, "Hmm, I think what I wish for right now Cobb, is another kiss from you if you'd be so kind."  

His breath noticeably hitched at this and he leaned forwards, teasing at your lips with a whisper of 'as you wish' before capturing your lips with his once again.   

[swanlake1998]

Article: Julie Felix: the brilliant Black ballerina who was forced to leave Britain

Date: March 3, 2021

By: Steve Rose

(CW: racism, anti black racism, police brutality, violence, murder mention)

She was told there was no room for a ‘brown swan’ in the London Festival Ballet, so she went to the US. There she found enormous success, dancing for everyone from Michael Jackson to Prince

The turning point in Julie Felix’s career came in 1975. A student at Rambert ballet school in London, she was selected to dance in Rudolf Nureyev’s production of Sleeping Beauty with the London Festival Ballet (now the English National Ballet). Nureyev was the god of British ballet – and he lived up to his reputation on the first day of rehearsal, Felix recalls. “He was late, but everybody said he was always late. All of a sudden, the doors flew open and in he came. He was well renowned for these big boots he used to wear, and a big fur coat. He took the coat off like a matador and threw it so it slid across the dance studio floor. Everybody jumped up and stood to attention. He was there for probably about half an hour.” At the time, 17-year-old Felix was awestruck. In hindsight, half a century later, she is less impressed: “Talk about unprofessional.”

In the fairytale version of Felix’s life, having acquitted herself on stage with Nureyev, she would have joined the London Festival Ballet and become the first Black British dancer to begin her ascent through the ranks of a British ballet company. Instead, she was told she was a “lovely dancer”, but was not going to be given a contract, “because of the colour of my skin. I would mess up the line of the corps de ballet, because you can’t have a whole row of white swans and then there’s a brown one at the end.”

Felix was stunned: “It hit me like a thunderbolt.” Her mother was white British and her father African-Caribbean, from Saint Lucia. She had never thought of the refined world of ballet as being what we might now describe as institutionally racist. “It sounds ridiculous, but because I didn’t experience any racial issues or difficulties before that, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the colour of my skin. I thought that I was talented and that would be enough.”

Having grown up in Ealing, west London, in the 60s, Felix certainly knew about racial difference. She rarely saw any faces that were not white in the neighbourhood or at school, she says. After her parents had met on a bench in Hyde Park, her mother’s family disapproved. “They said: ‘If you marry that man, we’re going to disown you.’ And my mum just said: ‘Well, fair enough, I still want to marry him.’”

Her father, who worked as a foreman at the Hoover factory, was quite the charmer, says Felix. “He was the proudest man. He would paint the front door a different colour every year. He was always up the ladder washing his windows. He would grow fruits and vegetables in the back garden. But I would say my dad had a big chip on his shoulder.”

She describes how he would dress like a dandy, in 40s suits and spats, even if he was just going to do the shopping. “He would always berate the grocers and say: ‘You’re picking the bruised fruit and vegetables because I’m Black. You think I can’t see this?’” She laughs. “Why would you move somewhere if you’re going to spend your life being concerned about the way other people look at you and your colour?”

There was an incident when she was eight or nine, when her father returned from work very late, his shirt ripped and covered in blood. A colleague had attacked him outside the factory gates with a meat cleaver on a chain. “He didn’t like, one, the way my dad spoke to him and, two, because my dad was Black,” she says.

Culturally, the Felix household was “100% British”, she says. She had no connection to her Saint Lucian family, although she would see her British grandparents in Essex regularly (relations had thawed when Felix’s elder sister and she were born). Musically, her father liked American crooners such as Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole; her mother preferred classical music and had once aspired to be an opera singer. “So, when it came to my wanting to dance, there was a local ballet school around the corner in Ealing that I would go to, and Mum said: ‘Well, as long as you keep working hard and you’re enjoying it, I will fund it for you.’ She wasn’t a pushy, stereotypical ballet mother, but she knew that I loved it. And because she’d been stopped doing what she wanted to do, she was there 100% for me.” When she passed the audition for the Rambert, her parents could not afford the fees; Felix won a grant from the Inner London Education Authority, which paid 75%.

Felix says no one is “born to dance”, but, as a student, her passion for ballet was boundless. “I can remember the feeling of waking up in the morning, earlier than I needed to, getting on the underground and going into Notting Hill Gate, where the school was. I was the first one in the door. The cleaner was still there.

“I could not get enough of it. My friend and me would stretch and practise our fouettés in the lunch break. We’d be the last ones out of the building. Get back on the train, go home. My feet would be bleeding. I’d have blisters all over my toes. And I didn’t care. I just knew this was what was required. I soaked my feet in salt water, dabbed surgical spirit on them to get the skin to heal and get them dried out so that I could get up the next morning and get on that train again.”

After all her dedication, being rejected for her colour was devastating. “It didn’t last long, mind you,” she says. “Part of my personality is: sink or swim. And I thought: ‘I am not going to sink here.’ So I just flipped it around and just said: ‘Watch me. I’m going to show you I can do it.’”

She didn’t have to wait too long. The previous summer, the Dance Theatre of Harlem (DTH) had come to perform in London. This was a pioneering Black ballet company founded in 1969 by Arthur Mitchell, the first top-flight Black dancer in US ballet. While they were in town, Felix went along, auditioned for Mitchell and was immediately offered a contract. She declined. When her teacher at Rambert found out, “she absolutely hit the roof”, Felix recalls. “She said: ‘You can’t pick and choose. You’ve been offered a job!’” Fortunately, the DTH returned to London a few months after her Nureyev experience. Felix auditioned and was offered a job a second time. She did not turn it down.

This time, Felix’s skin colour was to her advantage, although working with an all-Black company in the US was a curious reversal: “I’d gone from all of my ballet training, and growing up not really being aware of anything to do with Black people, to going to New York and there’s no white people.” Before relocating to New York, Felix had never had a passport, left the UK or flown in an aeroplane.

“Within two weeks of being there, Arthur Mitchell said to me: ‘We’ve got to knock the British out of you.’ And I took umbrage, because I’m really proud of being British,” Felix says. In retrospect, she knows what he meant: “It was the wishy-washy way I approached my technique and my ballet training. But it wasn’t just about that; it was everything that Arthur Mitchell taught and portrayed and wanted us to portray within our work. He wanted to show that Black people really can do this.”

DTH’s sense of purpose aligned with Felix’s own. She stayed with the company for 10 years, earning her place as a soloist and touring the US and beyond (including a satisfying return to the Royal Opera House). Life in the US put British racism into perspective, says Felix. In her first week in New York, she witnessed a young Black man being shot dead in the street by two white police officers for shoplifting. A touring performance in Mississippi in 1978 had to be cancelled because the Ku Klux Klan staged a protest outside the theatre, in white hoods, burning cross and all. “No words can describe that feeling,” she says.

There were more good times than bad, though. Felix shared the stage with, and danced for, luminaries from Ronald Reagan to her hero, Luciano Pavarotti. She danced with Lionel Richie to All Night Long at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics closing ceremony; visitors to her shows included Michael Jackson and Prince. Jackson wanted to cast the dancers in his ill-fated Peter Pan movie, she says. He came to a matinee in Pasadena, California, supposedly incognito, but in full Jackson regalia: black sunglasses, Jheri curl and military-style outfit, with a complement of bodyguards. “I was annoyed, because I was there to deliver the performance, but you had all these girls screaming in the audience,” says Felix. “Anyway, after it finished, he came backstage and said to us, very, very quietly: ‘I really enjoyed your performance. I just think you’re fantastic.’ What a humble man.”

A year later, Prince came to a show, by coincidence at the same theatre. He was similarly “incognito”, in a sequined, hooded purple cape. He never took the hood down. “At the end of the performance, he got back in his limo and left and didn’t say thank you, hello, anything. Really quite rude.”

By 1986, aged 30, Felix was beginning to feel the physical toll of ballet life. She also missed home. She returned to the UK and became a teacher and remedial coach for Sadler’s Wells Royal Ballet, first in London, then in Birmingham, where the company relocated when it became Birmingham Royal Ballet, in 1990. She married and had three daughters (none of whom followed in their mother’s footsteps).

She then became head of dance at a local school. Now it was her turn to “knock the British out” of her students. “They don’t seem to know how to really push themselves,” she says. “Ballet is really painful. If you don’t feel that, then you’re not doing it properly.” Ballet has also always required a highly specific form of physicality, Felix points out. “It needs very arched feet, it requires good natural rotation of your hip sockets, a slender body, long, lithe muscles, long neck, small head.” Regardless of talent or musicality, she says, dancers who do not conform to this body type will struggle. Perhaps it is this inherent discrimination that has made other forms of prejudice easier to disguise.

British ballet has made some progress since the 70s, but it could do more. Birmingham Royal Ballet, for example, had a successful workshop programme with local schools, whose pupils were often from Black, Asian or minority ethnic backgrounds, but such programmes seem to have “fizzled out” as a result of local authority budget cuts, Felix says. On the other hand, there are institutions such as Ballet Black, which advocates for diversity in professional ballet. At the time of its founding in 2001, there were still no women of colour performing in any British company. The Royal Ballet recruited its first Black, British-born male dancer, Solomon Golding, only in 2013.

Felix is not convinced British ballet has turned the corner: “I still believe that we’ve got ballet companies who will take a few people of colour just to be politically correct.” However, she was heartened by the appointment of the Cuban-British dancer Carlos Acosta as director of Birmingham Royal Ballet in 2020, although the pandemic has so far curtailed its activities. While all British arts are vulnerable at the moment, ballet – with its high demands for time, labour, space and personnel – is especially so. Now based in Cornwall, Felix has made do teaching over Zoom for the past year. She is not complaining: “It really is a lovely place to be locked down.”

Felix’s skin colour began as a factor that counted against her, but it became an animating force in her career and led to a wealth of experiences and successes she might otherwise not have had. With that satisfaction, the anger she feels for her 17-year-old self being told her brownness would “mess up the line” has mellowed a little. “Their choice of not accepting me enabled me to find something within myself that I probably would never have known was there,” she says. “And then to open up this whole world for me. So I can say that hatred was turned to gratitude.”

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 26. The Heart Wants What It Wants

'chaos is only understood when it is loved by the wild, not the weak’ - Zachry K. Douglas

I wondered, briefly, if my parents were as nervous as I was about that day. None of us had planned on me being back in England anytime soon, but there I was anyway. I suppose I should thank Adrien for continually attracting scandal and, therefore, needing me to distract the media from his wild American adventures.

In May, soon after my sister had returned to her previous insane schedule of ice skating training, there was a report from TMZ, of all places, that Prince Adrien of Savoy was now dating Sienna Lapa, a wannabe singer who’d come in second in X Factor a few years prior. This, we came to find out after asking Adrien what was happening, was the friend who had helped him find an apartment in New York when he decided to relocate there.

My parents and Adrien’s mother deemed it a ‘completely inappropriate choice’. Adrien’s sister, Natalie, seemed to be trying to keep an open mind -- she was and had always been her brother’s biggest defender, after all. Lourdes immediately pulled up all the videos from her X Factor journey to show anyone who’d listen, but that only made our family hate the girl more, as most of her performances involved her with too much energy and very few clothes.

“You can all be so close minded…” my sister complained, rolling her eyes, as Natalie watched the video over her shoulder with furrowed brows when she and our aunt came over for tea after the news broke. “We’re just looking out for him.” Our cousin told her. “So you’re on their side now?” Lourdes asked her. Natalie shrugged, defensive. “I think if Adrien likes her, she must be nice.” Her mother scoffed. “We all know your brother’s record with women is not stellar, chérie.” “He dated Faye!” “Exactly.” My father sentenced. “Maggie, what do you think?” Natalie asked.

As they all looked at me, expectantly, I took a moment to ponder how much this had been happening lately. I had been used to speaking softly before, to remarking carefully on things, in case someone would hear me. But as the Crown Princess, my opinion mattered in more ways than I had immediately realized. It wasn’t just the press that suddenly cared about me, my family, too, seemed more invested in my thoughts. As if my verdict could make or break anything within the family just because I was bound to be queen one day.

“I… I don’t think being an artist should mean she will inevitably ruin this family.” I said. My mother shook her head, and my Aunt sighed, but nobody disagreed.

After tea, my father asked me to stay behind as the others left, and sat me down to remind me, sternly, that being the heir – and, one day, the Monarch –, meant it was my duty to safeguard our family from anyone who, purposefully or not, my damage it.

“You think this girl will damage us?” I asked, suppressing an eyeroll. “Papa, she’s just a girl.” “She’s American. They don’t understand monarchies.” He replied. “Not to mention she belongs to an industry that thrives on scandal and notoriety, things that do not have a place in this family.” “We don’t even know her!” I said, smiling, amused against my better judgement. “We know she wants fame.” He replied, seriously. “That doesn’t have a place here.” “We don’t even know if it’s true.” I argued.

Unfortunately, it was. I texted Adrien after this conversation, and he was as frustrated as we were, but for other reasons. ‘Its so new’, he said, ‘we just wanted to enjoy each other before inviting the whole world into it and now here we are’.

According to him, it ‘just happened’. They’d been friends for a long time, she was really supportive after his breakup and helped him adapt to New York. He moved into the same building she lives in, and they started spending more time together; before they knew it, it was more than friendship.

He also made clear he knew perfectly well how unsuitable the relationship was: ‘she’s been trying to establish her music career for a long time, so her future lies in America’, he said. ‘She also has pink hair and a lot of tattoos… can you even imagine her in mass with the rest of the family?’

I could not.

The world couldn’t, either. Press and public alike had a lot of opinions on this relationship, which became everything anyone could talk about. It wasn’t just me that gained notoriety with Louis’ death, Adrien did, too, and, with him, any girl he could one day turn into a princess.

And that was the main reason I was sent to England. An invitation for Royal Ascot was issued every year to our family, we tended not to go simply because it was far and we had other commitments. But we needed to change the conversation, so if it took putting me under a hat and in the same picture as the British royals, so be it.

I could see my parents’ tension about this plan in the way they exchanged silent glances while we talked it through, but they didn’t voice any of it. Of course, they couldn’t. Not if they wanted me to do as I was told. So, they didn’t mention Harry, and I didn’t bring him up, either.

Regardless of this, he was very much in my thoughts essentially 100% of the time, even before the Ascot plan was born. All I had to do was just keep that to myself and, if my parents did the same, we could hopefully hold onto the lie that the issue was over.

So, on that day in mid-June, I took the train early with Cadie and Auguste and my security, headed to England, with a fancy outfit safely packed away in a weekend bag, which I changed into before we arrived.

I was wearing a salmon pink, wide-legged jumpsuit that my mother had deemed ‘too modern’, with my hair styled in vintage waves under a flowery disc fascinator.

The Royal Ascot races were a society event, with the actual races taking a backseat to… pretty much everything else: the fashion, the high profile guests, the arrival of the queen and royal family later on… honestly, it was everything but horses.

As a guest, I didn’t arrive with the other royals in a very much televised carriage ride into the main front lawn, and I was glad to be able to skip it, hoping I might be able to go straight to the viewing area, free of press. Unfortunately, that was the opposite of the goal.

So, even though I arrived privately, I was then escorted to the entry lawn for socializing before the race started. Though Cadie didn’t seem to think it was necessary – which I tended to agree with –, Auguste made sure to find me a pin with my name on it, a must-wear for every guest no matter how high ranked.

“A drink would be actually helpful.” I told them. “Not until the enclosure, I’m afraid.” Cadie replied. Auguste leaned in closer. “Though my colleague may have a different view, ma’am, I feel being seen with alcohol might not be the best course of action for what we’re here to do.” “Boss.” Cadie whispered his way, rispid. “I’m your boss, Mr. Authier. Not colleague.” “Is it appropriate to discuss that at this time, boss?”

I sighed, walking further away from them and into the crowded, sun soaked lawn. One thing I hadn’t grown used to yet was the looks. Every step taken through a public area, particularly one with such a high concentration of high class people, was the target of laser focused glances from almost anyone around. I was forced to develop the ability of confidently aiming my eyes at something abstract, so I was seen as being busy, but didn’t accidentally lock eyes with anyone. It was a perfect recipe for disaster. Which is why I should have expected it.

I didn’t bump into him, that kind of thing didn’t happen at highly planned events like this, especially when you had a large entourage of people with you whose job it was to make sure you went to the right place at the right time to meet the right people. It was more accurate to say our eyes bumped into each other.

There I was, walking slowly through the crowd, avoiding one pair of eyes after the other. First using the far away stands as a distraction point. Then using the awkwardly placed decorative flowers as a distraction point. Which led to using the one very weird hat as a distraction point, as its owner was standing right next to it. But then the hat was so weird I had to see the face of the person wearing it, but she was already looking at me, so I felt awkward and looked away as quickly as possible and, in my hurry, didn’t think too much about it, so instead of a safe distraction point, my eyes found… Harry.

“Ma’am,” Cadie leaned closer, “shall we go greet the president of the Ascot association?” “What? I–” I stuttered, barely able to take my eyes off of Harry. “Sure.”

Heaving a sigh, I allowed myself to be walked around to meet the people it was important for me to meet, doing what I had been doing every day since the last time I had seen him: smiling politely, making smart, appropriate conversation, representing an entire country. All things that were painful reminders of what kept us apart.

I woke up early, I worked hard every day to hold myself accountable to my new role, keeping busy the best I could, but every night when I closed my eyes to sleep, it was his eyes that I saw. It was his voice saying ‘don’t marry him’, the tap of his hand on mine above his heart as he told me ‘it’s yours’, and every time I thought about it my whole body shivered with joy and I wanted to cry of frustration, sadness and anger that I couldn’t just embrace something that was meant to just be a happy thing.

“Yes, my parents were so sad they couldn’t make it.” I told a trustee of the event, sustaining a neutral smile as though my entire body wasn’t shaking.

Sometimes, hypocritically, I wondered why Harry hadn’t reached out, either. I knew, rationally, that it was better that he didn’t, but he had made a point of saying he didn’t have to listen to his advisors when they told him to stay away from me, but he had. Whenever I started to feel sad about this, I reminded myself it was better this way. Safer. Healthier. Then I googled him to make sure he wasn’t dating anyone new, ‘just in case.’

But now there he was, in Ascot. Because of course of the five days of this event we would both go to the same one, believing differently was something only my parents did to help them sleep at night. On my end, I knew it was going to be this way.

It’s like I was fated to always run into him after weeks or months of absence, just to remind my heart of what it was leaving behind. Destined to try and forget him just to see him again, the man I could see, but not feel. Love, but not have. At arm's length, but worlds away.

As I turned away from the U.N. Ambassador, assuring him I would transmit his best wishes to my parents, I startled.

“Harry.” He startled, too; looked me up and down, closed his eyes in frustration, and sighed. “Damn, Mary, really?” He asked, sounding tired. “Wh-what?!” I asked, nervously, drying my sweaty palms in the pants of my jumpsuit. I’d been nervous all day they were a choice too ‘out there’. “Where do you find the audacity to look this beautiful?!” He asked, seriously.

It took me maybe two seconds to understand this flattery, and that he wasn’t actually criticizing my fashion choices, and when I did I was washed by such a deep wave of relief I was almost angry.

“Seriously?!” I slapped my handbag playfully against his arms, rolling my eyes, and turned away to walk into the building, leaving him as well as my team to catch up. “What?! It was a compliment!” He said, hurrying after me, suppressing a chuckle. I was smiling in spite of myself. “Maybe, but your tone was very misleading.” He smiled. “I apologize about my tone, Mary. May I try again?” I blinked, slowly, grinning now, and he went on. “You look beautiful.”

His second attempt was all that it shouldn’t have been: intense, yearning, full of a double meaning only we seemed to hear.

Bashfully, I gulped. “Thank you… I wish I could say the same.” “Ouch?” He laughed, taking a step back. “It’s not your fault, coats and tails is just not flattering on anyone.” “Well, that’s it.” He took off his hat and immediately started unbuttoning his vest. “What are you doing?” I asked, laughing. “I will go naked before I let you see me in something unflattering.” I took one step closer and stopped his hands with mine. “Oh, my God.” I said, looking around. “Stop!”

The main building was guests only, no press, so we were pretty safe there. But there were still guests around.

“What? You started it.” He chuckled but, at least for now, stopped undressing himself. Someone behind him cleared his throat. “Sir, you should probably button up before we go upstairs.” Harry nodded, serious. “Of course. Thank you, Edward.” He subtly buttoned his shirt while I looked around; some people had their eyes on us, but nothing too out of ordinary. “My secretary.” He explained. “Trying to keep me from trouble is literally his job, so I try to listen to him sometimes, throw him a bone, you know how it is.” “I hope you pay him enough.” I told him, teasing. “Sounds like an impossible mission.” “Touché.” Harry giggled, the sight making my stomach flutter.

We exchanged a long look, the whisper of our smiles still holding on to our lips dreamily.  

“So, how have you been?” He asked, clasping his hands behind his back. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Good. Well. Merci.” I nodded. “You?” “Awful, thanks for asking.” He smiled, so it was tough to know if he meant it or not. “Oh?” “Nothing that we can fix, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “Should I escort you upstairs?” “Oh. Uhm. Sure.”

He led the way to the elevators, our team right behind us. With our security, we crowded one elevator with no room for anyone else. Though this was a pretty safe environment, I didn’t feel safe enough to inquire about what he meant.

“So, how’s Lourdes?” He asked, upbeat. “Pretty good.” I said, nodding. “She’s skating again.” “Nice!” He broke into such a huge smile it was hard not to smile as well. “I want to see her skating, do you have any videos?” “More than I need.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll–”

I was about to say I’d send him some, when I stopped myself.

“You have her number, right? You should ask her, trust me, she’ll be delighted. She loves showing her routines to people.” He nodded, “I will.”

Though it was a very big building, the elevator stopped on every floor, where both our security alerted people it was crowded before the doors closed again. We were headed to the last, highest floor, the Royal Enclosure, which was the best viewing point for the races. It was also highly exclusive and invite only, and a person could online invite someone else after attending for four years. Divorcées weren’t even allowed in until 1955.

So the elevator ride took a long minute, which may be what gave me the courage to surrender and lean in closer to him to ask:

“Truth or dare?” He smiled to the ground, biting his lower lip, but leaned in to me as well and whispered, “Dare.” Smiling in return, only slightly annoyed I’d have to wait to ask why he said he’d been ‘awful’, I went through my head for a good dare idea. “Let’s see….” “May I remind you we are in a very public, heavily press-present event?” He whispered, still close. “Sounds like something you should have thought of before choosing dare.” I shrugged, whispering back. “Okay… get someone in this elevator to slap you.” He leaned back. “What?!” “Go on.” “How?” “I don’t know.” “Mary… I–” He sighed, looking around. His eyes paused on every person present, my staff, his staff, the security… and then it paused on the tall, slender man who he had referred to as his secretary before. “Hey, Edward, I need a favor.” “Yes, sir?” The man replied, while I suppressed a giggle. “Slap me.” The whole group looked at them for a moment, before looking away, pretending not to be overhearing. “S-sir?” “It’s not a big deal, just slap me. It doesn’t need to be strong.” Harry insisted. “Sir, I–I don’t understand!” “It’s a long story,” Harry lied, “I’ll explain later, but I need you to slap me now. Go on, I promise I won’t mind.” I bit my lip strongly to stop myself from laughing. Edward looked truly concerned, and Harry sounded increasingly more desperate. “Harry, no!” Edward said, shaking his head.

The elevator stopped in place with a melodic ‘ding’, and Harry sighed as the others filed out before us – Edward leading the way.

“Any chance you’ll slap me?” He asked, making me laugh. “Ask me again later.” I said, walking out. “But then I’ll have already lost.” He lamented. “Well, then you’ll have to live with the defeat.” He groaned, following me to a table of drinks and appetizers. There were no cameras in this enclosure, and no one else I had to be formally introduced to. As I didn’t know anyone else, this left me free to grab a drink and something to eat.

Harry, however, waved a quick hello to a handful of people as soon as we walked into the room, but continued to follow me.

“Okay, rematch.” He started. “Give me another dare, I must redeem my honor.” “God, men… it must be so exhausting feeling you have to prove yourself constantly.” He grinned. “We both know you’re judging me for not doing a dare. Go on, give me another one.” I giggled, and sighed. “Alright, remember you insisted… I dare you to…” I thought about it deeply, looking around.

There was a couple of girls a few meters away looking at us – more particularly, at him – with jealousy and desire in their eyes. I smiled in spite of myself, feeling oddly powerful.

“To improvise a poem.” He looked so confused it made me smile again. “A poem? Like, like poetry?” “Yes.” I nodded. “Take your time.”

As I took a sip of my sparkling wine, he put his hands in his pockets, looking around. I could see his mouth silently moving as he talked quietly with himself. It was an amusing sight, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice how handsome he looked deep in thought like this.

“Okay.” He nodded, seriously, approaching.

He removed his hat, brushed his hair to the side with his hand and stood unnervingly close to me.

“You're a vision in pink, I might need a drink…” He risked a look at me, but his cheeks were reddening, so he looked away again. “And I might pass out, if you gave me a wink…” I tried to suppress a giggle, as I thought any sudden movements might dissuade him from this dare. “Every day I remember, when the leaves were ember… In blue, you breezed through… your skin, warm and tender, In all of your splendor…” he looked at me again, still pink in the cheeks, but with renowned intensity in his eyes, “Waking up with me, your legs between my knees. I woke up desperate to please, and tease, with ease…”

His eyes locked on mine, intense, he recovered his color just as I felt my cheeks heaten up. He said each word slowly now, over-enunciating double meaning into each syllable.

“And squeeze, your hills, give you chills, thrills, until… Your daisy became daffodils… Asleep and awake, three days of bliss, give and take… Slow, sweet, fast or rough. Forever wouldn't be enough.”

His eyes hovered over my face, slowly lowering towards my lips, pausing there for the longest minute as I felt breathless. To the silence, I realized it was over, and struggled to think of something teasing, light-hearted enough to say to this. How to hide the way his voice – his words – made me feel?

I bit down an embarrassed grin thinking of his words. Walking in wearing blue when the leaves were ember? That was when we met last fall. Waking up with my legs between his knees? When I ran away to his home and we slept in the same bed. ‘Squeeze your hills, give you thrills, slow, fast, or rough, forever wouldn’t be enough’? That, that was… an alternate reality that felt the more tempting the more he continued to look at me.

“I don’t want to break the moment, because I feel there’s a moment here… but that was really good, right?” He asked, sounding honestly shocked.

It made me laugh out loud.

“Oh, my God, did I… write that?” He added, looking around, seemingly astonished with himself. “Did I maybe hear this somewhere? Did I accidentally plagiarized someone?” Laughing, I held on to his arm to steady myself. “Honestly, it was very good.” I managed to say. “I know! It was incredible!” “I mean, it started just okay… but it got… really interesting in the end.” “Interesting?! I think I’m a poetry miracle!”

I laughed again; throwing my head back, I had to hold on to my hat so it stayed in place.

“I need a pen and paper to write that all down before I forget it!” he added, patting his pockets. “Oh, my God, shut up.” I begged, still laughing. “Alright, alright…” He smiled. “My turn. Truth or dare?” I sighed, “Dare.” He grinned, surprised. “Oh, wow. Okay… I dare you to…” He considered it for a few seconds, looking around the room.

Silently, he grabbed my half-drank wine glass and moved to the drinks. He picked a bottle of whisky, and poured some into my glass.

“Hey!” I protested.

He did the same with the scotch, the vodka, the mango liquor, and every other bottle in the table until my glass was almost full to the brim.

“I dare you.” He said, handing me the glass. “Are you s–? This is so unoriginal.” “Just drink it.” He grinned. I smelled the contents of the glass, which smelled oddly of citric coca cola, and took a quick sip. “Oh, my God.” I complained, trying to remind myself not to yell in disgust. “You can do better, come on.” “No, I think this is enough.” “What? You drank nothing!” “Yes, but you never said I had to drink a lot, just that I had to drink.” I shrugged. He closed his eyes, and smiled, annoyed. “Wow. Such a lawyer.” I laughed. “My turn.” “Fine. Truth.” He said, rolling his eyes. I gulped, placed the disgusting concoction in my glass back on the table, but kept the smile in my lips as I asked, “Why did you say you were awful before?” His smile faltered. “Oh. You know…” He shrugged, nonchalant. “No, Harry… I don’t.” I said, softly. He avoided my eyes, but his lips sustained a humorless, emotionless smile. He took in a long breath, and looked at me. “Do you maybe have another question?” “What? No. Harry…” I shook my head, confused. “That’s the question.” He sighed. “It’s just work.” “Work?” “Yes, Marie. Work. I have a lot to do to get Invictus ready for September…” “Okay. Is that all it is? Because your tone says differently.” Still smiling coldly, he looked around, and brushed a hand through his hair, nervously. “Speaking of work, how’s your work?” He asked. “Is royal work as an heir any different?” “Harry.” I insisted, seriously, now feeling my heart beating increasingly heavier in my chest.

Finally, something snapped. He bit his lip, avoiding my eyes, then closed his eyes, muttered ‘hallway’, and walked off without affording me a second glance.

Chilled to the bone, I waited a couple of seconds before following him out, strategically avoiding Cadie and Auguste’s worried glances from nearby.

We walked out of the enclosure to the elevator hallway. It was emptier now than when we had come in, but still had a couple of people in it. So Harry passed them towards other doors, where it was emptier.

He stopped by a window, hands in his pocket, and heaved a sigh, brows creased, eyes pained. My heart ached just to watch him.

“Look, I–” He started, avoiding my eyes still. “I…” He laughed, humorless still. “Harry,” I tried, softly, “you’re worrying me.”

He closed his eyes, painfully. After a couple of seconds he opened them and stared right into mine. When our blues connected, I felt again that old chill down my spine; that feeling of being seen for all I was, that chill of knowing there was a lot being said, even if we weren’t speaking.

“Work is hard, yes, but–” He licked his lips, pausing. “I can handle it. What makes it harder, though, is that I can’t go very long without thinking about you.” I gulped. “W-what?” He smiled, a little more honestly now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mary. I know that sucks to hear. I just…” He sighed, heavily, and took a step closer to me. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Feeling my stomach do a cartwheel inside, I gulped. “I… W-what?!” His smile grew now, amused. “I look around my house, and all I can think is I miss having you there. I miss waking up with you, cooking with you, talking with you all day long...” He took another step closer, now in a way where his smell was all I could breathe; still the same citric L'Occitane smell I could never forget. “I think about you every time I open my bathroom cabinet and see the toothbrush you forgot.” He shrugged. “It’s pathetic. And even now as I say it, I know it’s pointless. I know just looking at you that it’s a lost cause. And it’s not your fault, even if sometimes I wish it were. It might be easier if I had a reason to be angry at you… But you didn’t ask for this. Neither did I. I just…” he shrugged. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” I sighed, breathless. “Harry. I…” “I know.” He nodded, staring at the ground. “I understand better than most. You have a duty. You have rules to follow and a huge number of people around ready to remind you why this would be a terrible idea, and I get it. I have the same. Lower stakes, maybe, but I do, and I hate it.” He smiled, in a sad, desperate way; eyes full of yearning as they looked at me. “The truth is I think about that kiss every day.” He whispered, gently. “The truth is I think about that date we never had every day, and about everything that could have been different… The truth…” He sighed, longingly. “The truth is I think I’m falling in love with you.”

My mind was both completely blank and going a thousand miles an hour. I felt my hands… shaken. My legs felt weak. I thought of Louis’ funeral again, of trying to kiss him at the worst of times, of how much it hurt when he pulled away, of when he told he didn’t want to be something I might regret.

I remembered sleeping with Chris right after, getting back together with him without even realizing it. Of the proposal and the yelling and the months of headlines about it.

If my brother was still here, Harry and I might have been just a complicated, unique love story. But he wasn’t, and because of that everything was such a mess. I was such a mess.

And yet, here he was: loving me anyway. In spite of it all. What was the universe thinking?

“Maggie?”

My fragile, already shaken up heart went cold. I looked back to find…

“Christopher?

--- ---- ---

Royal Ascot Outfit

[A/N: I know what you’re thinking, ‘how dare you not post for 2 weeks and then leave us with a cliff hanger????’. Guys, I’m SORRY! In my defence, 2020 was a hell of a year, I had to move, the holidays were a lot, I had a guest over, and I GOT A DOG! So...........a lot has happened! But things should calm down now, so I promise to try my hardest so this doesnt happen again! Spoilers: the story is going into its next phase! Secret-relationship-angst kind of next phase. But anyway, enough about me... how have YOU been? Tell me all about it, oh and also your thoughts on the chapter? hopes for the next ones? notes? criticisms? I’ll take it all! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND STICKING WITH ME AND FOR YOUR PATIENCE! PS: Lola, my fur child, is a 2 years old rescue, loves munching ice and guilting me into petting her instead of writing/working. I also accidentally scard her out of going to the bathroom where shes supposed to so now I’m slowly moving a pet-mat through the apartment back there. Tips? LOVE YOU HAVE A GOOD WEEK! BYE!

PS 2: I PROMISE I’LL COMPRISE ALL THE CHAPTERS INTO A MASTERPOST LIKE ONE OF YOU ASKED ME TO, I JUST NEED TO FIND THE TIME BUT I WILL! Thanks for the suggestion <3 ]

[animeraider]

My Kevin Gilbert Story, and my latest single.

As some of you know I’ve had a few brushes with the “big break” that many in my line of work crave. I was signed to a major label in the early 1990s, and the record I turned in was shelved. The label wanted me to be the “next Michael Penn” and by that point not even Mr. Penn was interested in that, let alone me. I had three songs picked up for a movie, which was never released. I got out of my record contract and signed with another label, releasing an album that included 5 songs from the one that was shelved. The label put no money behind it. I had a big hit in 2009 and signed a European distribution deal, which fell apart when the married couple who ran the business fell into a messy divorce. I sold thousands and thousands of records in Eastern Europe – which were being sold by pirates. It took several years to get that fixed.

I had an audition that everyone felt I was a lock for to play keyboards for a Japanese band that had a huge following. My flight to the audition was supposed to be September 12, 2001. I actually watched the plane I was supposed to board land as it was the last flight grounded. I’ve done some engineering and performing I don’t get to tell anyone about – the NDA’s are pretty strong. One of my songs became the theme to a German Television show.

But let me tell you the story of a relationship I almost had with a multi-Grammy-winning star who soared high and made it further than I have, whose song I have made a cover of and released as a single today.

So where to begin. First of all, yes, I knew Kevin Gilbert. No, we weren’t friends, but we were colleagues and classmates. We performed together a few times – all of if school related. That’s it. Oh, and he invited me to a jam session he was going to have once and I turned him down. I’ll get to that.

Believe it or not, I have to tell this story starting in the middle. There was once a band called Toy Matinee. I loved that band. Clever songs, well written melodies, a sense of darkness and a sense of fun. It was a band that me and my roommate Max could agree on and we cranked that album loud and often. We went and saw them live at the Troubadour in Los Angeles, and were about 10 feet from the stage. This is NOT the live album released in 1999, but I can tell you they rocked the place that night. Played almost every song from the album, and did an encore of Elton John’s “Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” that smoked.

A great night.

Now I jump into the past, to tell the tale of the UCLA Synthesizer Ensemble. It was the brainchild of Professor Roger Bourland, who at the time was only in his 2nd year as a professor at the school and would later become dean of the department. He searched out the most rock and roll musicians in what was mostly a stuffy classical music department. Me. Dave Koz. Joel Harnel. And this kid named Kevin. The five of us took another student’s source material and arranged up a musical. Straight musical theater and full of schlock, and all performed on synthesizers. We eventually put on four shows, with the five of us in the orchestra pit. I wrote the show-stopper ballad and a Latin inspired piece. I hate to say it, but I no longer remember what everyone else did, although I remember Dave mostly for his EWI playing and Joel for multiple reasons – including the fact that he wrote and arranged all of the drum parts.

I knew Joel fairly well – we had played together a few times and he was even more rock and roll than me, with more experience. Dave Koz was, even then, Dave Koz. The only saxophonist I had met up to that point in my life who was better than me. We had played in jazz bands together but he was already a rising star. When he beat me for the gig with Richard Marx’s touring band his career just took off – but all this was before then. I was one of Roger Bourland’s students – in fact, I had been in the “test” classroom when he had auditioned for his job.

I barely knew this Kevin kid. I was constantly getting his name wrong – for whatever reason my brain had him wired as Kevin Anderson.

My only real interaction with him outside of this 12-week experiment was down in the practice rooms. Many of these rooms had pianos in them and on any given day you could hear Mozart, Brahms, Chopin and all of the other usual suspects. I would go and write my own material and be pounding out rock and roll. Kevin did that too. Once while in the middle of the writing process for the musical he came into my practice room while I was working on a song in the style of Elton John. He invited me to a jam session the next Tuesday he was going to, and I declined. Tuesday was when MY band practiced, and as their lead guitarist I needed the practice.

That was the end of it. After the musical was over we all drifted our separate ways and for the most part didn’t run into each other again. I ran into Dave once at a music festival in San Francisco and he introduced me to Clarence Clemmons, which was pretty damned cool.

By now you’ve figured out that Kevin was Kevin Gilbert. Congratulations. I hadn’t. For many years to follow I would remember him as Kevin Anderson.

Now I’ve told you all of this so that you understand that this is long BEFORE Max and I went to see Toy Matinee in concert. I became a fan of the band without knowing that Kevin was its leader. I was ten feet away from him, performing for an hour. I had performed with him myself.

I didn’t recognize him. Nothing clicked in my brain that this was the same guy. I didn’t put two and two together. I rolled for my intelligence check and got a one.

Kevin Gilbert would go on to a solo career, win seven Grammys for his work with Madonna, be part of the driving musical force behind Sheryl Crow’s first album, become one of the founders of the Tuesday Night Music Club, and become one of my songwriting heroes. The man could paint a picture with very few words and his musical ability was enviable.

And then he died; a victim of his own vices. I’m not going to go into that here – I know nothing at all and can shed no light on the subject.

Several years later I relocated to San Francisco with my family. I discovered the band Giraffe once I was on their home turf, and of course discovered the fact that Kevin Gilbert had been their leader when he was a teenager. BEFORE I knew him. Giraffe was a pretty damned good band that had come so startlingly close to making it big – their albums are worth hunting down and they did a fantastic live rendition of Genesis’ “Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” (the full album mind you) that is lots of fun.

I was looking for a recording studio for my second album when I ran across a man named Steve Smith who owned a recording studio down the peninsula from where I was living. In his bio, he briefly mentioned that he was the drummer for Giraffe. Awesome. On his web site of the time if you dug in a little bit there was a bio of Kevin Gilbert, and he talked about the brief time he spent at UCLA.

Parts of the story looked and felt awfully familiar to me. Smith talked about the musical without mentioning the name, and again, it felt familiar. Me being slightly brave, I wrote an e-mail to him to ask what was the title of that musical and that I might have been involved in it. He confirmed it for me.

Holy crap.

All of the pieces started falling into place then. The rehearsals, our discussions about piano playing, that I went to one of his shows and failed to recognize him? The fact that I think he invited me to come join the FUCKING TUESDAY NIGHT MUSIC CLUB and I didn’t even fucking notice!?!!?!!?!!?

I’m an idiot.

Actually, in looking back at the timeline I don’t think he invited me to join TNMC. That came a couple of years later – I think. I’m never going to know for certain. If he had told any of the other members I don’t know about it. I’ve exchanged about a dozen words with one of the other members over social media but we certainly don’t know one another.

I wonder if he saw me in the audience that night and laughed. I will never know. I can tell you there is an album version of that night you can listen to and/or buy. A then-unknown Sheryl Crow played keyboards in the band, dressed up like a dominatrix biker chick. When I found out about that later I was amazed – I didn’t recognize her either.

I’m an idiot.

Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard played drums. I don’t remember the name of the bass player but what I remember is this man with the thickest eyebrows I have ever seen in my life. Marc Bonilla played lead guitar. Oh, the people I could have met.

I never did work in Steve Smith’s studio. I no longer remember why.

When I was working on my third album in my newly built home studio I recorded a number of covers and one of those was Kevin Gilbert’s “Tea For One”. It’s a fantastic song of unrequited love and missed chances told from start to finish in only a few dozen words. I have no idea if he would have liked what I did to his song – he had a wicked sense of humor that I can recall now but I never got to know him on a personal level as a songwriter, which was my mistake. I could have but I was so focused on myself in those days that even if the overtures were made I probably didn’t even notice.

I recorded the song in what I called "Garage Pop" during those days. A bit uneven, imperfect vocals - what you might get from a band practicing in their garage instead of a polished studio version. If you want that, I recommend hunting down his version.

But I recorded “Tea for One” just the same – it’s a great song and I’d like to think I gave it some justice – even if it doesn’t come close his version. It was on the original version of my third album "The Long Goodbye", which I released myself, but was cut when the album was moved to digital streaming services (In all fairness, I cut 21 songs from the original release – which was a 2 CD set).

My music career has been dark for several years, but it got jump started in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic and I’ve been revisiting a lot of my unreleased work since, and of all the covers I did this is still my favorite. I am releasing it now, in tribute to a musician I admire and could have called friend if I had just paid a bit of attention.

The guy holding the roses was me, as it turns out. I had no idea.

+++++++++++++++++

For those of you with very long memories you should listen to the full single on Spotify, because I’ve thrown in a little bonus for people who remember the 1980’s band ASK. Just a little piece of a little ditty written by me, Kevin Donville and Ed Lee.

[fayewonglibrary]

A Cantopop Dream Girl’s First Film Reverie (2019)

By Oliver Wang

If you weren’t a devotee of the Cantopop world in the early 1990s, the casting of Faye Wong in Wong Kar-wai’s Chungking Express (1994) may not have caught your attention. Starring in her first major role, the singer looked much the fresh ingenue, cropped coif, tinted sunglasses, and all. Her character—also named Faye—was played with such a frenetic, awkward energy that she may well have been the blueprint for the “manic pixie dream girl” trope.

In Asia, though, Wong had already become one of the region’s biggest pop stars by 1994, and the movie premiered a month after Wong had released Random Thoughts, her eighth album in six years. To put her casting in contemporary terms: imagine a promising but still unproven art-house filmmaker convincing Ariana Grande to star in a low-budget indie film that happened to come out weeks after the release of her chart-topping Thank U, Next. For Wong Kar-wai (WKW), Chungking Express was a breakout international hit, but for Faye Wong, it was one highlight in an already meteoric career.

Landing a genuine pop star was a kind of capstone for a director whose previous films had already shown a deep love for the power of pop songs. A key scene in WKW’s debut film, As Tears Go By (1988), is built around a jukebox playing Sandy Lam’s Cantonese cover of Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away.” The mysterious, mesmerizing title scene in Days of Being Wild (1990), set amid jungle foliage, makes use of the minor 1964 instrumental hit “Always in My Heart,” by the Brazilian guitar duo Los Indios Tabajaras. One wonders if, in an alternate timeline, WKW would have made a great, taste-making DJ.

Chungking Express is WKW’s greatest “jukebox” film for many reasons, including its casting of Faye Wong and its prominent placement of pop tracks, plus the fact that the director uses not one but two different jukeboxes in pivotal scenes. The actual number of songs isn’t as extensive as in Scorsese or Tarantino films of the same era, but the four tunes used most strategically in Chungking Express are each repeated at least twice. In the film’s first half (which features a young Takeshi Kaneshiro alongside the legendary Brigitte Lin in her final film role), Dennis Brown’s somber 1973 reggae single “Things in Life” plays four times. In the second half, which focuses on the unconventional relationship between Faye Wong’s Faye and Tony Leung’s Cop 663, we hear Dinah Washington’s 1959 version of “What a Diff’rence a Day Makes” twice and the Mamas and the Papas’ iconic 1966 single “California Dreamin’” a staggering nine times.

Most of these uses are diegetic, played on jukeboxes, CD players, or stereos. As we, the audience, listen to the music, we’re also watching people on-screen listening to music. Because of this, the songs in Chungking Express don’t just enhance ambiance, they also craft character, and these two streams flow together sublimely with “Dream Lover,” the Cantopop cover of an alternative rock hit by the Cranberries from 1992, performed by none other than Faye Wong.

Born Wang Fei in mainland China, Wong moved with her family from Beijing to Hong Kong in the eighties to pursue a performing career. Her first record label, trying to avoid associations with the mainland, gave her the generic, Anglicized stage name “Shirley Wong.” Her early albums sold, but after a few years, frustrated with her lack of creative control, she took a hiatus and relocated to New York City in 1991 as a gesture of escape and self-discovery. We can only assume she was also immersing herself in the trans-Atlantic pop scene of that time.

We don’t know if Wong heard the original “Dreams” in New York, but by the time she covered the song on Random Thoughts, the Cranberries’ song had become a signature hit twice over. It was the Irish band’s debut single from the fall of 1992, but they also rereleased it in the spring of 1994, after the massive success of their follow-up single, “Linger.” My friend, music writer Ned Raggett, described it as “a brisk, charging number combining low-key tension and full-on rock,” which is to say it’s a song filled with a sense of taut control but also giddy release. It’s easy to imagine how Wong, seeking to reclaim her artistic autonomy, might have been drawn to it.

Upon returning to Hong Kong in 1992, Wong reclaimed her birth name by changing her stage name to Faye Wong, and she immediately began to score a string of best-selling albums, many featuring covers of alternative rock hits. “Dream Lover” isn’t the only example to appear on Random Thoughts; the album also includes a pair of Cocteau Twins’ covers.

Showcasing “Dream Lover” in Chungking Express so close to Random Thoughts’ release was surely a savvy marketing move, common in the Hong Kong entertainment industry. However, the use of the song—alongside Wong’s real-life stardom—also works beautifully with the narrative and logic of the movie. From the moment Faye is introduced at the start of the second half, she’s already living in a dream of sorts. When we first meet both her and Cop 663 (Tony Leung), she’s working at her cousin’s food stand and blasting “California Dreamin’” out of a kitchen stereo. It’s so loud that 663 has to awkwardly shout at Faye just to put in his order, but Faye seems unfazed by the volume. With each repeated playing of the song, we’re meant to hear it as a commentary on Faye’s dissatisfaction with the drudgery of work and her weariness of Hong Kong’s gloomy, wet climate. California—“safe and warm”—represents a fantasy to escape to, first in her imagination, later in reality.

“Dream Lover” obviously extends the same “dream” theme, but as it’s also performed by Wong the singer, in scenes featuring Faye the character, there’s a rich meta-text at play. In “Dreams,” the Cranberries’ Dolores O’Riordan sings of trying to grapple with her sense of fantasy and reality in the context of an existing relationship. Wong’s “Dream Lover” has different lyrics that seem to recast the song as one about a lover who may be real or may be imagined. That ambiguity echoes Faye’s infatuation with 663, which she goes out of her way to avoid making explicit. 663 may be the lover in her dreams but not one she is keen to pursue in reality. As if to stress this point, we first hear “Dream Lover” after Faye has stolen his apartment keys in order to sneak in to dust his shelves, swap labels on his pantry cans, even drug his water bottle so she can continue her clandestine cleaning while he’s passed out. (This probably seemed more quirky and charming in 1994. Today, it’d likely be cause for a restraining order and psych eval.) Faye wants to be in 663’s presence, but only indirectly. She has more of a relationship with his domicile than with him.

That first use of “Dream Lover” is played under a montage of an extended cleaning session, and cinematographer Christopher Doyle shoots Wong with a handheld camera, adding to the already off-balance feeling of the scene. My colleague Brian Hu has astutely noted in a video essay that this shooting style seems to deliberately mirror the aesthetics of Wong’s music videos of the time. Hu’s analysis posits both the movie and music videos were shot in such a way to present Wong/Faye as a “whimsical dreamer,” “a free spirit,” “inquisitive and mysterious.” Moreover, in real life, Wong left Hong Kong to “find herself” in the U.S., and that story would have been well-known to any Cantopop fan watching Chungking Express. Film Faye is so tightly interwoven with Faye Wong that one wonders, if Wong had been unavailable or uninterested in the role, would WKW have abandoned the character or storyline completely?                                      

When I first sat in a Bay Area theater to watch Chungking Express in the mid-nineties, I knew absolutely none of Wong’s backstory, and yet I still found the song immensely affecting, especially when it returns a second time, forming a coup de grace moment during the film’s final scene.

To recap: the last chapter in Chungking Express occurs a year after Faye has decided that, rather than meet with 663 at the California Bar, she’s going to travel to the actual California instead to see if it lives up to her dream. Now a stewardess, Faye drops by her cousin’s food stand only to find 663 there, no longer a police officer but now the stand’s owner. Before, Faye was the one infatuated with “California Dreamin’,” but now it’s 663 playing the song, also loudly, on the kitchen stereo. He is surprised but clearly pleased to see her. She, however, is nervous about having her “dream lover” in front of her and begins to make excuses to leave. At this point, the will-they/won’t-they tension from earlier in the film returns, and as viewers invested in their potential pairing, we’re left anxious that this moment too will end without resolution.

But 663 then retrieves the letter Faye had left him the night she departed. It’s a hand-drawn boarding pass but rainwater has blurred out the destination, and Faye offers to write him a new one. When asked where he wants to go, 663 replies, “Wherever you want to take me,” and the last we see of the pair is Faye inking a new pass on a napkin while 663 stares with affectionate intensity. One final moment flashes back to the stereo, where “California Dreamin’” had been playing just before. This time, it’s “Dream Lover” that swells up and kicks in before the end credits flash on.

Ending with a song as robust as “Dream Lover” doesn’t just reinforce the movie’s unique, unpredictable energy, it also captures something of how we often experience dreams themselves: as intense but disjointed bursts of images and emotion that we wake from, momentarily disoriented yet filled with feeling. The exuberance of the song offers a form of musical catharsis for all the deliciously confusing tension that’s built up over the past hour. We don’t know for certain what will happen to Faye and 663 after this scene, but what the sound of “Dream Lover” offers in the moment is a rousing sense of possibility. The song’s sonic verve—with its “low-key tension” and energetic release—fuels hope that our lovers may not be so star-crossed after all, as they pursue their romantic dreams, wherever those may take them.

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

SOURCE: THE CRITERION COLLECTION

[bellemorte180]

Wanderlust Chapter Three:

Wanderlust Chapter Three

The Salvatore Boarding House was massive. It had an old family money vibe that made Klaus scowl. It was obnoxiously large and scaled across an impressive amount of land. It looked as though it was built in a Tudor style and would fit more in the English countryside than in the middle of Virginia. It was built almost on a curve and had a large roundabout driveway; with a patch of greenery in the center. It was nestled back into the trees and had a long private drive that took Marcel and Klaus at least five minutes to drive up.

Whichever of the Salvatore ancestors wanted to build this home clearly wanted to flaunt their wealth. The closer they approached; Klaus could make out a few stained-glass windows, impressive lawn decor and a garden that Klaus would bet neither of the Salvatore brothers actually cared for. The house was constructed with dusty red bricks, wooden beams and off-white plaster that had intricate wooden designs that were meant for nothing more than to give the home a superior feel. The home itself screamed wealth and privilege.

It wasn’t that wealth or privilege made Klaus uncomfortable, given his own background, it was just he understood perfectly what went on behind closed doors. He knew how superiority always came with those who accumulated a large amount of wealth and the destruction that caused. Men who were born into a life where everything was handed to them, they assumed they owned everything; even people. Homes like the Salvatore Boarding house always reminded Klaus of his father; and that was a memory he craved to forget.

Marcel gave a humorless laugh as the house came into view. Klaus smirked at his partner, understanding the sentiment. Marcel came from nothing; raised in extreme poverty by a mother who did not even name him until he was two years old. He worked for everything he had from the ground up. He received full ride to college simply because he pushed himself in his teenage years. Excelled at the FBI academy and let nothing stand in his way. It was something Klaus admired about him; hard work and loyalty.

“Let me guess, the house makes you feel right at home?” Marcel ribbed him, causing Klaus to roll his grey-blue eyes at him. The second Marcel learned that Klaus had a trust fund stowed away doing nothing but collecting interest, Marcel could not help but tease him. Never once did his partner ask why Klaus never touched it or why he didn’t just turn it over to his siblings. “Did the manor your parents owned rival this one?”

“No.” Klaus turned and smirked at Marcel. “It was bigger.” That caused Marcel to laugh and clap his hands in applause. It was a running joke between them; ribbing on their difference in circumstances. To outsiders, it was cold and harsh but the two had a comfortable understanding with one another that they rarely felt insulted by the remarks. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

The two agents stepped out of the black SUV and walked towards the front door. It was an intimidating door with an obnoxious door knocker; clearly only there for show. Marcel just pointed at it with a slight laugh and Klaus could do nothing but roll his eyes again. He reached out and ran the doorbell that was on the side of the house; he could tell that Marcel was tempted to use the knocker for nothing more than pure amusement.

It took several minutes but when the door opened, it was most definitely not Damon. Elena opened the door and her eyes widened at the sight of both Klaus and Marcel; her eyes doing a double take when she landed on Klaus. From the records that Klaus pulled, as far as they knew, Damon lived alone in this massive house but in the back of his mind, he remembered Caroline mentioning that Elena was engaged to be married to Damon’s brother.

“Elena, who is at the door?” A man who did not match the driver’s license photo they pulled of Damon asked. He was medium height, shorter than Klaus, and had light brown hair. He was clean shaven and wore a simple pair of jeans and a light blue cotton shirt. He came up behind Elena and held out his hand. “Stefan Salvatore.”

“Special Agent Marcel Gerard.” Marcel replied grasping Stefan’s hand. “And this is my partner, Special Agent Klaus Mikaelson. We were hoping to speak to Damon.” Neither Stefan nor Elena looked surprised that they wished to speak with Damon. A looked passed between the engaged couple but they nodded. Elena stepped aside and allowed them to enter.

The interior of the house was everything Klaus expected it to be. Large, grand and outdated. It had high ceilings with wooden beams across the top. Old tapestries hung on the walls and carpets that reminded Klaus of medieval times rested on the hard wood flooring. A large fireplace stood on the far wall and a chandelier that held candles instead of real lights hung from the ceiling.

The home told Klaus that the Salvatores wanted to flaunt their wealth, but not actually live there.

“If you want to have a seat, I’ll go and grab Damon.” Stefan replied and Marcel gave him a gracious smile while Klaus strolled across the room; looking at everything he could fine. This was the typical roles they played when questioning a suspect together. Marcel played the charming gentleman while Klaus played the bad guy; the one who put the fear of god in their suspects.

“Can I get either of you something to drink?” Elena asked with a polite smile, but her gaze kept flickering between the two of them. She appeared uneasy as though she was hiding something, and it made Klaus suspicious of her. He already had a low opinion of her just on the little he knew about her but there was something more to her than what Klaus could see.

“No.” Klaus replied in a blunt and brisk tone; causing Marcel to turn his gaze towards him, but Klaus ignored him. “Have you spoken to Caroline today?”

“No. Not since yesterday.” Elena stated and a worried look appeared on her face. “Why? Is she okay?”

“As far as I know, she is fine. I just assumed you would have gone to see her, that is all.” Klaus replied but said no more when Stefan returned with Damon; who was a just as he pictured. He had jet black hair, ice blue eyes and dressed as though he wanted the world to know he was the bad guy; tight jeans, black shirt and if it wasn’t in the middle of summer, Klaus would assume a leather jacket would be slung over his shoulder. “Damon Salvatore, I presume?”

“The one and only.” There was a snark in his voice that Klaus found irritating. He just grinned at Damon, trying to push down his already horrible opinion of him. He knew that this was the man who had put Caroline in the hospital nearly a decade earlier and Klaus had this urge to avenge that wrong against her. He couldn’t; not without proof he was the one who committing these murders.

“We were hoping to speak to you about Andi Star.” Marcel asked politely, making it very clear that Stefan and Elena needed to leave the room. Stefan smiled politely and took Elena’s hand, pulling her somewhere else in the house. “We won’t take much of your time.”

Marcel pointed to Damon’s couch and Klaus could not help but notice how Damon’s smirk faltered ever so slightly at Marcel asking him to sit in his own home. However, Damon followed the directions and took a seat. Marcel sat across from him, but Klaus continued to survey the room, never directly looking at Damon. The goal was to unnerve him, making him distracted and hopefully make him slip up.

“From what we understand you were in a relationship with Ms. Star?” Marcel asked politely, flashing him that winning southern smile.

“Yes and no. Andi and I were…. complicated.” Damon replied but neither Klaus nor Marcel spoke. Klaus walked over to a painting that had to be older than all of them combined. Klaus had the urge to touch it, just to see if it would provoke a response but he refrained; it was too early in the questioning to use such tactics. It was unwise to riel him to immediately. Marcel held Damon’s gaze, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “I lived here. She lived in Charleston. We never were serious when she first moved down there, roughly eight years ago? It was an on again, off again type of relationship. On when she was in town. Off when she wasn’t.”

“It ended at Christmas?” Marcel asked.

“Yes.” Damon agreed. “She wanted to take things to the next level. She wanted me to move to Charleston. My life is here.” Damon’s eyes continued to follow Klaus, who was still pacing around the room. “I own the Mystic Grill and a few other establishments. I can’t just close up shop and relocate. Andi wasn’t willing to move here. The only logical conclusion was to end things.”

“But you went to Charleston when she went missing? Only a few days later?” Marcel asked, and Damon refocused on the other agent. He seemed taken aback. “Our field office in South Carolina faxed over the case file about her disappearance. You drove six hours when she went missing. The police questioned you on her disappearance for two days.”

“Which I had nothing to do with.” Damon snapped. “They let me go and I helped the search party look for her.” Klaus gave a small smirk at his irritated tone, something Damon noticed but wasn’t foolish enough to comment on. “Look, just because we ended things does not mean I did not care for her. I did not have anything to do with her murder.”

“What about the restraining orders?” Klaus asked, speaking for the first time since they were introduced. He was standing directly behind Marcel, admiring an old vase that he was not really seeing. He picked it up slightly before placing it back down. “In the last four years she had filed no less than three restraining orders against you. She claimed that you liked to get rough with her during arguments.”

“She dropped those.” Damon replied undisturbed. He had been expecting this line of questioning, having been subjugated to them during the investigation into Andi’s disappearance. “We fought like cats and dogs, but I never hurt her. I was just as devastated to learn about her disappearance….and when they found her body.”

“What about Vicki Donovan?”

“What?”

“According to her brother, you and Ms. Donovan spent some time together.” Marcel clarified and Damon was taken aback. Klaus moved from his spot at the table and moved to look at the window, gazing into the vast backyard. It was manicured to the point that it had to have a groundskeeper; Klaus made a note to check on everyone Damon employed. “And according to her work history, she worked for you also.”

“I didn’t realize Matt knew that Vicki and I had been together.” Damon muttered. “Yes. Vicki and I had sex. It was only a few times but that ended just as quickly as it started. It was fun for both of us and nothing more. What can I say? I get around.” Damon’s tone sounded proud at the fact that he liked sleeping with multiple woman, including his employees.

“And is that why you fired her? Because she stopped sleeping with you?” Klaus asked from the window, not bothering to look at him or move away from it. However, the window was placed that Klaus could see Damon’s reflection in it. He could see how Damon narrowed his eyes just slightly enough to show is irritation at Klaus. Damon did not like Klaus and that pleased him.

“I fired her because she kept getting high on the job.”

“Was she getting high when you slept with her?”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“And what is that Mr. Salvatore?” Klaus asked, turning from the window. When Damon did not reply, Klaus moved over to the sofa and sat down on its arm. He made himself comfortable and gazed at Damon for the first time; his glower piercing directly through the other man. “Tell me, do you like to get high? Perhaps on heroin, speed, maybe prescription medication? Say Dilaudid?”

“Not my poison.” Damon snapped. Gone was his smart smirk and cocky attitude. Klaus could tell that he was not going to tell them anything; but they knew that going in. The goal was to unnerve him enough to have him make a mistake. Learn what he was hiding. “I’m a bourbon man myself. I have no need to inject my veins to feel good.”

“And what about Caroline? Did you make her feel good when you put her in the hospital during your relationship?” Klaus asked, his gaze unflinching. Damon said nothing but glared at Klaus. “According to your arrest history and Caroline’s own words, you beat her to the point that she was hospitalized for several days. Tell me, what kind of man lays a hand on a woman? A weak one?”

“You know nothing about my relationship with Caroline. She was nothing more than a vapid little twit in her teenage years and those charges were bogus. If her mother was not the Sheriff, I wouldn’t have been charged with anything at all.”

“Where were you on June 5th? The night of her disappearance?” Marcel asked.

“Here.”

“With who?” Klaus chimed in; unflinching at the heated stare that Damon was throwing his way. Klaus had stared down monsters far eviler than the man before him. Klaus could break him in two if he desired; which he did, he just knew he couldn’t.

“I was alone.”

“How convenient. No woman in your bed to make you feel good?”

“Yeah, well it was a dry night.” Damon snapped back. “Look, I had nothing to do with Caroline’s kidnapping and despite our differences, I’m glad she is okay. I did not hurt her, and I most certainly did not kill Andi or Vicki, or those other women. I had nothing to do with this and I suggest that the next time you want to speak with me, I want to have my lawyer present.”

“Very well. Thank you for your time Mr. Salvatore.” Marcel replied, standing from the sofa but Damon paid him no mind; his eyes focusing directly on Klaus. Klaus did not move from his spot but returned Damon’s gaze; appearing unimpressed and almost bored. After a moment, Klaus gave a humorless chuckle and stood.

“Don’t leave town.” With that Klaus brushed past Damon and strolled toward the door. Marcel was only paces behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Stefan and Elena lingering near the stairwell. Both Marcel and Klaus knew that they would be listening, and he could see their uneasiness; their line of questioning having its effect.

“Dick.” Klaus paused at the sound of Damon’s voice. His teeth ground together, and his shoulders tensed. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and break the man. Caroline’s bruised body flashed before his eyes and he almost did spin around to face the man, however, he felt Marcel’s hand on his shoulder, ushering him forward and out the door. Walking out into the sunlight did nothing for Klaus’s temper; if anything, seeing the underserving wealth blatantly flaunted before him and knowing who it belonged to made Klaus furious.

“Agents! Wait.” They were by their SUV when they saw Stefan running after them. He appeared almost as frustrated as Klaus felt. “I apologize for my brother. Damon on his good days is impulsive. Andi’s death really rattled him but there is no way he was involved with it, or any of this.”

“And what of his violent history? Andi filed three restraining orders against him, claiming abuse and he put Caroline in the hospital during their relationship?” Marcel told him gently. Stefan closed his eyes and shook his head. Both of the agents could tell that Stefan had a long history of having to clean up after his older brother.

“I did not know that Andi filed anything against Damon. He has gotten help. Therapy on and off for years to deal with what happened with Caroline.” Stefan stated and Klaus believed him. “At the time that they were together, all of us, Elena, Bonnie and myself tried to get her out of it the moment we knew something was off about it. She didn’t listen.”

“So, it was her fault?” Klaus hissed out through clenched teeth.

“What? No. Of course not but we tried everything we could at the time.”

“Not enough clearly.” Klaus replied and Marcel sent him a sharp look. It wasn’t a warning, but his partner was clearly telling him to back down. Klaus pushed his lips together in frustration and tried to get control over his temper. He understood that his questioning of Stefan about Caroline was unfair. He understood how domestic violence worked and if a victim did not want to leave, it was difficult getting her to do so.

“Where were you on June 5th?”

“I had a conference out of town. Chicago. I come home on June 7th.” Stefan replied calmly and Marcel nodded. He pulled out his phone and typed a note into it. Klaus could feel his temper slowly calming down. He glanced back at the house and could see both Damon and Elena standing in the window, whispering to one another. Klaus got the feeling that Elena was not as close of a friend that Caroline painted her to be.

“We will be checking on that.” Marcel muttered and Stefan nodded. Marcel headed towards the driver side of the SUV. Klaus gazed through the window for a few more seconds before getting into the passenger side of the car. Once seated and the door shut, Marcel turned to look at him. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“That! Interrogating Stefan about not doing enough to get Caroline out of a situation ten years ago?” Marcel muttered. Klaus didn’t say a word but pursed his lips in irritation. “Look, I get it. Domestic violence is a touchy subject for you given your history and I get that Damon seems to be a right prick, but you can’t blame his brother for something he had no control over. If Caroline did not want to leave, then there was nothing anyone could have done.”

“I know.” Klaus agreed. Marcel nodded and started the car, driving down the long drive. Klaus continued to think on the Salvatore brothers and how they were completely different, and alike in some ways. “I just lost my temper. Damon pushed all the right buttons.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you pushed his right back.” Marcel stated and that did please Klaus. If Damon felt pressure from the two of them, then perhaps he would make a mistake or reveal something if he is the killer. If he isn’t, then Klaus can at least enjoy that he pissed him off.

The remainder of the drive remained silent back to the station remained silent. The two agents lost in their own thoughts; going over the facts of the case and what theory’s they each were presenting. As Klaus sat at the small round table with coffee in his hand, he couldn’t help but feel as though something obvious was missing. A question staring him right in the face.

“You know, it still amazes me that an uptight British man like yourself prefers coffee over tea.” Marcel replied, teasing him; trying to ease the sour mood he had been in at the Salvatore house. Marcel could tell that he had a growing respect for Caroline and that her experiences touched a part of his past that he hated to discuss; so, Marcel left it alone.

“My brother Elijah shudders at that very notion.” Klaus replied, causing Marcel to laugh. Marcel had met most of Klaus’s family over the years, with the exception of his eldest brother Finn and his wife. Elijah was the definition of a fussy British man. Always dressed to the nines and never had a hair out of place.

“You know, there are times that I wished I had siblings and then I remember yours and it makes me very thankful to be an only child.” Marcel’s voice was light, and Klaus just rolled his eyes; but could not disagree. There were times he wished he was an only child. Especially now that his younger siblings had a tendency to show up at his flat unannounced. “What are you thinking about?”

“Damon Salvatore.” Klaus replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He hated where his train of thought was going but then, he typically did not like how his mind worked while he was on a case. “He is hiding something. I’m not sure what but it is something big. I’m just not sure if it has anything to do with these murders.”

“You don’t think he did it?”

“No.” Klaus said in a low tone. “He is most certainly an asshole and I have no question that he abused Andi when they were together. I believe him when he said that his relationship with Vicki was nothing more than sex. He was her employer and she had a drug problem. She probably thought sleeping with him would let her keep her job and support her habit.” Klaus ran his hands over his face. “Not only that but you got a good look at his arms. Track marks? Of any sign that he used a needle routinely?”

“No scars that indicate that. Although, he could inject between his toes but that’s really only seen in experienced drug users. If that was the case, he probably still would have scars on his arms.” Marcel leaned back in his chair and Klaus could not help but agree with him. “You know, there is something bothering me. How the hell is he getting the drugs? Dilaudid? That is not some common street drug. It’s a schedule two drug and if someone was getting large quantities of it, there would be a record of it somewhere.”

“It’s not just Dilaudid though. It’s the fact that he has it in liquid form. If he was giving them pills, I would believe that he was getting it from someone off the street. However, liquid form is more potent and far more difficult to come by outside of a hospital.” Klaus said as he reached over and picked up Caroline’s hospital records again. “Maybe a medical professional? Someone with access?”

“Possibly.” Marcel’s head tiled back and forth for a second, thoughts rolling through his head. “However, if it was a medical professional and they were taking from the hospital, it would have been noticed. Doesn’t Vincent have a friend at the DEA who might be able to see if Dilaudid has gone missing in the area or if large quantities have been ordered?”

“Davina Claire and I wouldn’t see why not. If it is for a case, Vincent wouldn’t have a problem asking her.” Klaus replied, thinking on Vincent Griffith; the supervisory agent who oversaw the entirety of their department. “Why don’t you call him? He likes you better than me.”

“Everyone likes me better than you.” Marcel joked and Klaus just rolled his eyes, not looking up from Caroline’s records. It was not secret that Vincent and Klaus butted heads and if Klaus was not good at his job, Vincent probably would have had transferred a long time ago. Klaus’s brows pinched together in confusion and flipped through the file Dr. Fell had provided them. “Sure. I’ll give him a call. What is it?”

“Read this.” Klaus handed over Caroline’s medical records. “Right there.”

“And?”

“See right there, Dr. Fell notes that the track marks on Caroline’s arm were poorly done. He missed the vein several times, which caused the bruising on her arm. It looks as though he blew a few veins in her arms. If we look back on the autopsies of the other bodies, I think we would find the same type of marks. If he was a medical professional, the injection would have been clean.”

“So not a medical professional then?” Marcel asked lightly, shaking his head. “then that makes the question on how he got the drugs in the first place even more curious.” He stood from his chair and chugged the remainder of his coffee. “Let me call Griffiths and see if he can work his magic and can get anything from the DEA. You know how they just love sharing information.”

“Bureaucratic bullshit is what it is.” Klaus snorted and Marcel just nodded his head. While Marcel left the conference room to make his call, Klaus rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. Between the case and the uncomfortable bed at the cheap motel they were staying at, sleep was not a friend to Klaus. Although, sleep was not something he had much experience in for the last few years. Memories of every victim he couldn’t save haunted him.

He looked down at his own coffee mug and noting that it was empty. It was awful coffee, but it was better than nothing at all. Scowling, he stood from his chair and walked through the station. He passed the sheriff’s office and noticed that Liz was at her desk, flipping through files. She was back in uniform, looked more rested and made a mental note to send some food over to her when they ordered from the Grill later; seeing that the Grill was the only decent place to order take out from.

He refilled his mug in the kitchenette and as be passed through the station again, cursing the distance between the coffee maker and the conference room, he glanced into Liz’s office again. He stopped, staring through the large windows and saw Elena Gilbert sitting across from Liz; who was wearing a very displeased look on her face. Liz’s eyes flickered towards the window and did a double take when she noticed Klaus standing there. She waved her hand, motioning for him to come in. Following directions, Klaus moved to the door and stepped inside.

“I want to talk to you, not him.” Elena hissed when she saw Klaus stepping into the office. Klaus shut the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar before taking a seat beside Elena; leaving his back to the office door. “I have nothing to say to him.”

“He is running this investigation Elena. If you do not tell him what you told me, I will tell him, but it will go a lot better for you if you just tell him. It will prevent him from wasting time on someone who is not the killer.” Liz closed her eyes and rested her forehead in her hands as though she was fighting an intense migraine. Elena pursed her lips disapprovingly before turning to Klaus.

“Damon didn’t kill those girls.” Elena replied and Klaus just cocked an eyebrow at her. When she didn’t say anything, he waved his hand; indicating that she should continue. “Stefan was in Chicago the night that Caroline was taken.” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “When Stefan goes out of town, I’m usually with Damon.”

“When you say ‘with’ Damon, what exactly do you mean?” Klaus asked. In truth, he knew exactly what she meant but he needed her to say it. There could be no mistaking what her when it came from clearing a suspect. Klaus knew that Damon was hiding something and the goal of his needling him was to figure out what it was. He just did not realize it would have that effect on Elena.

“I’ve been sleeping with him, okay?”

“You’ve been sleeping with your fiancé’s brother?” Klaus allowed the words to leave a nasty taste on his lips. Klaus did not think the opinion of Caroline’s friend could sink any lower, but he was proven wrong. “How long?”

“Since Thanksgiving. It’s why he officially ended things with Andi at Christmas.” Elena paused, before speaking. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to call the wedding off or not. I love Stefan but being with Damon makes me feel free. I never intended to sleep with Damon but when I -shit Caroline!”

Klaus whipped around and saw both Caroline and Bonnie standing just outside the door. The look on Bonnie’s face told them all that they heard every word. However, Klaus’s scrutiny switched from Bonnie to Caroline in an instant. She looked pale, frail but incredibly strong all at the same time. The heartbroken look that was written all over her features told Klaus everything he had to know. Her words about Damon’s abuse to her being ancient history was nothing more than a shield.

“What the fuck Elena?!” Bonnie hissed to her, crossing her arms; shaking her head. “You’re getting married in four months. To Stefan! What were you thinking?”

“Caroline-“

“Don’t. Elena. Just…don’t.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper. She turned quickly and walked as fast as she could through the station; Klaus being able to see that her feet were still healing. Liz stood up quickly to chase after her, but Klaus shook his head.

“I’ll go after her.” Klaus pointed toward Bonnie and Elena, the former looking as though she was about to lay into Elena. In truth, Klaus thought she deserved it but was in no mood to witness it first-hand. Perhaps it was selfish, but he just needed to see if Caroline was okay.

“There is a picnic table under a large oak tree in the back. She probably went there.” Liz replied and Klaus nodded. He left her office quickly, just in time to hear Bonnie’s voice echoing throughout the station. If the deputies didn’t know about Damon and Elena’s affair, they certainly did now. By morning the entire town would be aware, including Stefan.

He found her easily, for there was only one large oak tree behind the police station. Caroline was sitting with her back to the table. Her arms where crossed but due to her light pink tank-top, Klaus could see the bruises running up and down her arm. Her left hand was in a white plaster cast. The closer he approached, he could see that her eyes were red and that she had tears running down her cheeks.

Klaus sat down quickly beside her and did not say a word. He just held out his hand, linking their fingers together and Caroline’s tears fell faster. Klaus just let her cry; never once letting go of her hand. Caroline’s grip felt as though she was hanging onto him as though he was her lifeline; terrified that if she let go, even for a second, what sanity she had left would come crashing down around her.

“I’m sorry.” Caroline whispered. “I shouldn’t let this get to me.”

“After learning what you just did and everything you’ve been through, if you were not out here crying, I would have to assume you were a sociopath.” That caused Caroline to give a humorless chuckle. She brought her cast up to her cheek in order to wipe some of the tears away. Seeing her movement, Klaus leaned forward and wiped her tears away with his thumb. It was perhaps not the most professional move on his part, but he could not help himself. Their eyes locked with one another and the small smile she gave him was probably the most genuine one he has seen from her.

“I take it you were looking into Damon.” Caroline replied and Klaus nodded. “Makes sense. What with all the questions you were asking yesterday. That and he was in a relationship with Andi and he is my ex, I suppose it would be completely logical assumption. However, seeing that Elena apparently was with him that night, he has an alibi.”

“Yes.” Klaus nodded. “Marcel, my partner, and I were looking into Damon based on his connections with you, Andi and Vicki as well as the fact that he has a violent past. I suppose if Elena is willing to admit that they have been having an affair, then it is safe to say that he was not the man who kidnapped you.” Caroline closed her eyes and Klaus wanted nothing more than to see her smile again. “Perhaps it is not the most appropriate thing to say but at least you won’t have to see him at Elena’s wedding because at this point, I don’t think there will be one.”

“No.” Caroline replied, laughing. She knew it was not funny, especially since Stefan was going to be heartbroken but it was what she needed to hear at that moment. “I don’t think there will be either.” She shook her head in disbelief. “You know, I called Elena that night. I wanted to see if she wanted to grab dinner or something because I figured she would just be moping around their apartment with Stefan gone. I guess I know why she never answered. Poor Stefan.”

“Is there not some, girl code or something about dating one’s ex?” Caroling turned and looked at him with disbelieving eyes. Her curiosity and the sparkle in her eyes were exactly what he wanted to achieve. He smiled widely at her. “My sister Rebekah has said something akin to that in the past.”

“You have a sister?” Caroline asked and Klaus nodded. She was imagining what a female version of Klaus would look like. Did she have the same sandy blonde hair and blue eyes? Did she have his dimples? Caroline shook her head; knowing that now was not the time to be ogling to the agent who has been nothing but kind to her. “Is it wrong that I wanted it to be him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Damon was the easy suspect. I don’t think anyone, outside of Elena and Stefan, would be surprised if he was the one doing all these awful things.” She paused before pushing on. “I’m tired. I just want this to be done. I want this bastard to be caught so I can look him in the eye and let him know that he didn’t break me. I want this to be over so I can begin healing. I don’t think I can do that if he is still out there. But I have to try.”

“You are unbelievable.” Caroline began to look offended and Klaus could sense that he was three seconds from being told off. “I meant that as a compliment, love.” She narrowed her eyes playfully and bit her bottom lip; sending Klaus’s mind to places it should not go. “What I mean is that two days ago, you clawed your way out of some cell, harming yourself in order to do so. Today you found out your friend has been sleeping with a man who used to beat you. Most people would be in the hospital, curled up in the fetal position but here you are. Sitting on a bench, holding a real conversation. You have no idea how strong you are.” The smile on Caroline’s lips was enough to make Klaus’s heart stutter; until a thought occurred to him. “Wait. Why are you not in a hospital right now?”

“Well…..you see…” Caroline bit her bottom lip and looked at Klaus worriedly. Her eyes blue eyes were down casted; as though she knew she was about to be in trouble for something. “I might have checked myself out.”

“You checked yourself out?!” Klaus all but yelled; not in anger but in complete disbelief. “I take it back. You are a sociopath.”

“Hey! Be nice to me! I’m vulnerable!” Caroline cried but there was a hint of laughter in her voice. Klaus stood up, unlinking their hands for the first time; both forgetting that they were holding them together in the first place, and crossed his arms. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“We are going back to the hospital.” He held out his hand, but Caroline refused to take it.

“No. No. Nope.” Caroline shook her head. “I cannot sit in that hospital bed anymore. I can’t just sit there and wait for news. I need to do something. I need to start getting back to my life. I already promised Dr. Fell that I would come in everyday for checkups and allow for home visits. I feel fine. I came here to tell my mom that I was going home and to see if she would mind staying with me tonight. I can’t go back to that hospital.”

“Caroline.” Klaus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. In that moment, he never considered how exhausting she could be. He saw Bonnie strolling across the lawn towards them. Once she reached them, Klaus turned to her. “Please convince your friend to go back to the hospital.”

“Oh, I’ve tried; from the second she called me to pick her up to the entire drive here.” Bonnie stated in a tired tone. She was irritated and from her ridged posture, Klaus could tell that her confrontation with Elena did not go over well. “I’m hoping she will reconsider but the more we push, the less likely she will actually do what is good for her.”

“I just want to go home Bonnie.”

“Fine.” Klaus stated, taking a deep breath. “But I am putting officers outside your house, twenty-four hours a day. If you hear the slightest noise, you call me immediately. I do not care if it is just a creak of a floorboard or the wind. You call me. At any time.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary tonight.” Bonnie prompted in a sweet voice. “Liz already said she is sleeping on your couch tonight since you’re being stubborn and I’m blowing up my air mattress. Slumber party.” Bonnie reached out her hand. “come on. I will even watch Gone with the Wind with you for the billionth time.”

“Thank you.” Caroline stood and leaned into Bonnie, giving her a hard hug. She looked over her friend’s shoulder and tossed Klaus a thankful smile. He nodded towards her and strolled across the lawn. He looked over his shoulder and saw the two women slowly making their way towards what he assumed was Bonnie’s car. He made a mental note to ask Liz to station officers outside Caroline’s home; if she did not already.

The moment Klaus reached the police station door, Elena by passed him; not even sparing him a glance. By her posture, Klaus could tell that she was very angry. Her face was flushed, and her eyes red. Klaus found it very difficult to feel sorry for her. He knew she never intended Caroline to be hurt, but now her actions were not only going to cause her to lose the trust and relationship with Stefan but she would have a lot of ground to try and regained with not just Caroline, but it looked like with Bonnie as well.

“Ms. Gilbert.” Klaus called to her and Elena paused. Her stance was rigid, but she did not turn around to look at him. She knew that she could not simply ignore him, but she did not want to look at him either. “Was it worth it?”

Elena did not answer him.

[graysistance]

topic: childhood or the absence of

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

in the years before life alone on jakku, rey had one. she must have. there were six whole years where was with her parents that she simply cannot remember. as she grows and learns what it takes to survive on a desert dirtball, she resents her amnesia. flashburn can be a blessing and a curse in the wake of intense trauma and rey completely considers her inability to remember their faces a curse. (i thought it was so strange watching tfa for the first time how she dressed exactly the same as the day she was left as a child down to the elements of her clothing. never changed her hair and outfit was the same. but kylo ren hit the nail on the head when he pointed out her propensity for searching every face she met for the face of her parents. she couldn’t summon their faces for the life of her and so banked on them hopefully remembering her instead.) without details to remember, she made them up until it hit her how dangerous that was. and without details she had no way of replaying pleasant memories that might hold her over until their return. she had nothing. only herself.

growing up was only true by virtue of her getting taller, adding a year to her age (she began keeping track by having her birthday as the first day of the new galactic calendar year. later she changed it to the day she was left behind. considering she was six at the time and could hardly have told one day from the next, the only reason she knew was the nightmare that replayed itself every year after she’d left the planet for good.) and learning how ugly the world could be and ways to defend herself from it. that was truly where her childhood ended and began.

so where other children might have gone to school or followed one parent into a trade or found a skill they enjoyed and were good at, playing with friends until the sun went down when there was time for it, climbing trees and wading through mud puddles at will, what rey was doing was profoundly different.

by age seven she knew how to make herself seem frightening enough to leave alone or play dead in order to not be dispatched by a fellow scavenger. she learned to never be out in the desert at midday or risk heat stroke. she began to know which parts were the most valuable and what would get the most money.

by age eight she had build her quarterstaff and was figuring out her fighting style. she had learned how to speak broken binary and huttese as well as thorough basic. 

by age nine she could knock two people (her size or slightly bigger) unconscious one after the other. for good measure, she could fight off three people and run away with her life. 

by age ten she knew exactly which alleys to run into and where the best hiding places were from wandering hands in niima outpost. 

by age twelve she had killed a fellow scavenger in self defense. it was not intentional.

by age thirteen she had broken and reset three bones and relocated her shoulders five times. she discovered her love for droids and had begun slowly collecting parts in order to try and build her own. she had also begun construction on her speeder. 

by age fourteen her affinity for droids had become lucrative and she picked up small jobs in the outpost for visitors with broken droids. her speeder was also finished this year. 

by age fifteen, she deposited a knife in one end of her quarterstaff after nearly getting killed by someone trying to rob her. around this time she also solidified a reputation of being someone no one should mess with lest they walk away bloodied and regretting getting near her.

by age sixteen she bought her freedom from unkar plutt and was no longer a slave and a scavenger both, but just a scavenger. unfortunately, she still had to work for him.

by age seventeen she was almost an expert at every imperial flight simulator she’d found aboard the destroyers.

by age nineteen rey had knocked out tens of people who had tried to assault her for a myriad of reasons, fought off many more who were trying to steal from her, had killed seven desert creatures, had two bouts of heat fever so intense she almost died, built a second speeder after the first broke down, nearly starved to death three times due to days long sandstorms keeping her from scavenging, gotten stuck inside the ship graveyard around ten times thanks to smaller storms, gotten lost in the desert too many to count, made a junk droid that lasted only a few hours, and had an entire scavenged ship she fixed mostly herself stolen from her by two fellow scavengers and was left without the credits and portions it would have given her.

only midway through her nineteenth year was she able to taste food that wasn’t vegmeat, see true green for the first time, see an entire body of water that wasn’t a mirage or a drawing or from a holo, go swimming, run through a field for no reason other than to run, and make true friends. denial carried her through what would have been her childhood years and somewhat stunted her ability to become emotionally mature, although in her later teen years she was able to understand herself much more. but that work took conscious thought and recognition that she hadn’t received the help and care many other children in the galaxy might have.

[kayteewritessteve]

If Only You Knew - 14/19

Description: You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him, and everything else that happened on that horrible night. Who would have knew that your prom would end up being a total disaster, and the very last night you’d spend in Buckhannon for the next 7 years? you certainly didn’t. That’s for sure.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 5,290 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Bad and offensive jokes. Possible triggering thoughts, feelings and emotions. Moments of bullying and harsh name calling. Lots of curse words. And a very sloooow burn.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

July 2018 - Present.

Steve hopped out of his truck, having just found a spot in 88 restaurant’s parking lot. He closed his door, then started to walk towards the entrance, clicking the lock button on his key fob a few times, until he heard the familiar honk of his truck locking and alarming itself.

Reaching the front entrance of the restaurant he paused to checked his watch, assuring he was, in fact, on time. Or rather, slightly early as was his preference for most things. He wasn’t a fan of arriving to anything late. That just wasn’t his style.

Once he saw that he had a few minutes to spare, he took a deep breath and opened the door, walking up to the hostess standing behind a podium. She greeted him with a warm smile and a quick welcome before asking for his name. Having confirmed he was here for the Barnes reservation she showed him to a private back room in the restaurant. Clearly a room reserved for functions like this.

He noticed that he was the first one to arrive. Figures, he was usually the first one for most things. He took a seat at the end of the table and picked up his menu to give it a once over before everyone else arrived. Unsure of when that would be, as Bucky was never on time for anything.

But luckily for Steve, he didn’t end up being alone for long, as he began to hear a few familiar voices coming towards the room. Glancing up from his menu right as Nat and Bucky walked into the room. Followed closely by Maria, Clint, Laura, Winnifred, Rebecca, Barney, and little James Jr.

Growing up Winnie Barnes had been basically like a second mom to Steve, she had been good friends with his mother, Sarah. Along with both Maria Hill and Kelly Hill—Nat’s aunt and mother—and Maria Stark—Steve’s Godmother/adoptive mother. The girls had all grown up together, and been inseparable all their lives.

So when Steve’s mom had passed, then Bucky’s father left and then a few years later Nat’s parents died, Winnie and both Maria’s all stepped up to basically help each other through, and raise the group of kids together. Each woman having suffered some form of terrible loss, which only brought them all closer. Made them really cherish each other in different, deeper ways. But loss can really be the catalyst for change, it can show us how precious life truly is, and that you have to really cherish it and the ones you love. Because in the blink of an eye, it can all be taken away.

So then it goes without saying that the kids all grow up together, were inseparable just are their moms/aunts were. But then the group continued to grow over the years, going from 3 best friends to 8.

Starting with bringing Sam in when his father was transferred to town with the Military. Then Clint, who actually always lived here but was home schooled till grade 5. Then Hilde who moved to live with her grandparents during her parents messy divorce, but then decided to just stay. Then the Maximoff twins, when their mom inherited a home here from a great aunt who’d passed. And then lastly, Y/N.

But anywho, a few years back Rebecca and Barney Barton—Clint’s older brother—who had married young, announced that he’d had a job offer in New York that was too good to pass up. And that they’d be relocating for it. They’d come back to visit a few times a year. It had been really hard for Bucky to lose his only sister as such a prominent part of his life, but he knew New York would be good for her, and Barney. And he still had his close group of friends to keep him company.

But when they announced Rebecca was pregnant, Bucky and Clint were so excited, but also so upset that they wouldn’t really get to be a part of their niece or nephews life. However once James Jr. was born, Bucky and Clint would go to visit them often, Nat always tagging along for the visits. It wasn’t the best set up, but they made it work.

Barney hadn’t been able to take a ton of time off for the wedding, with being so busy at work, so they had only arrived into town that morning. They’d stay for a few days to partake in the wedding then fly home shortly after the wedding.

“Of course you’d be the first one here punk,” Bucky laughed as he escorted Nat to one of the seats in the middle of the table. Then took the seat beside her, between her and Steve, and clapping Steve on the back once he was settled, “been here long?”

“No, only a few minutes or so,” he said as he leaned forward to look passed Bucky at Nat, “you look beautiful as always, Nat.”

“Trying to steal my bride, punk?” Bucky scoffs jokingly at Steve.

“At least he said something about my outfit,” she glares pointedly at Bucky then looks passed him to smile sweetly at Steve. “So thank you Stevie, that’s very sweet of you to say. And you look very handsome, as well.”

Bucky gasps and feigns offence, “I tell you all the time how beautiful you look.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head at his two best friends as Nat over exaggeratedly rolls her eyes, “except today, it would appear.”

“What!?” Bucky’s eyes widened comically, “I totally told you, that you looked stunning as we were leaving the house!” He pauses and narrows his eyes at her, “clearly you weren’t listening to me.” And then he gasps, dramatically, “were you ignoring me, Nat?”

She just glares at him for a moment, most likely trying to come up with a retort. But chooses instead to stay silent as she realizes that he had out played her this time. But only this time.

His smug smirk proves that he had also realized as much, “that’s what I thought.” Then he pecks her on the cheek in a form of truce before turning to Steve, but before Bucky can say a word the doors open again. And in walks Hilde, Thor, Sam, Wanda, Vis and Y/N, chatting animatedly with each other before greeting everyone as they each find their seats at the table.

Steve can’t help but give Y/N a once over—that’s a lie, he glanced over her figure more then once, but that’s neither here nor there—as she entered the room. Luckily for him she ended up in the seat directly across from his, with Wanda beside her. Followed by Vis, Thor, Hilde then Rebecca and finally Barney. James Jr was set up at the end of the table, with Clint sitting across from Barney. Then Laura, Winnie and finally Maria, who was beside Nat. And then Sam was left the seat at the end of the table, by Steve and Y/N.

But let’s be real, Steve barely paid any attention to anyone else at the table in this moment, his mind had gone basically blank. Or into limp mode, as Bucky called it. Seeing Y/N all done up and dressed up stole all his thoughts. She looked stunning. But then she always did. So that really wasn’t anything new.

She was wearing a simple, form fitting, blush pencil skirt and a flowy white, off the shoulder floral top, with nude strappy heels. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it suited her well. He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered her talking, until he noticed the concerned expression on her face.

“Stevie, you okay?” She whispers.

He shakes his head, to clear his mind then quickly speaks up, “ah, yeah. Yeah. I’m good,” he smiles, then leans forward slightly to whisper, “you look stunning, by the way.”

“Aw shucks, this old thing?” She gestures to herself and laughs, the sound makes his heart flutter. “But thank you. You look very handsome as well,” then she winks at him.

“Thanks,” he says through a chuckle then waits for her to get all settled in, once she was he speaks up again. “So, how did the dress try on go?”

This peaks Sams interest, who had just sat down after going around the table to say his hellos, “yeah, did you girls finally say yes to the dress—” he pauses and scrunches up his nose as he adds, “—es.”

Y/N laughs again and shakes her head, “yeah we did, and it went really well, the bridesmaids dresses are lovely but Nat’s gown is fucking stunning. Just wait till you see it.”

“Yes!” Wanda agrees in a squeal, “it’s absolutely breathtaking, you guys. Fits her like a damn glove too.”

Steve and Sam nod but before either could respond the waitress appears and takes everyones drink orders, causing Steve to realize he still hasn’t figured out what he wants to eat. So he focuses on his menu for a few minutes, adding into the conversations around him here and there.

Luckily when the waitress returns with everyone’s drinks, the whole gang has decided on what they want and all place their orders. Promptly picking up their conversations once the waitress has left again.

“I can only imagine how beautiful it is,” he says then raises his voice a little louder on the next part, so as to direct his comment more to the woman sitting two seats over, “Nat has always had amazing taste.”

“Except in men, it would appear,” Y/N adds quickly with a shit eating grin, looking directly at Bucky. Who matches her expression and adds, “and best friends, clearly,” he scoffs.

“You two are ridiculous,” Sam laughs and shakes his head.

“Oh please,” Wanda scoffs and points at Sam, “pot calling kettle black.”

And then Sam has the audacity to look offended by her words, but then bursts out laughing and nods, “alright, you got me there.”

“And this is exactly why we keep you around, Steve,” Nat pipes up as she leans forward and winks at him, ignoring the others comments but shooting them all a pointed glare. Causing everyone to chuckle as Bucky shakes his head.

“We?” Bucky jokingly scuffs, “don’t lump me into that, I’d have gotten rid of him years ago.” He turns to pat Steve on the back, smirk in place on his lips, “if the guy wasn’t so damn loveable,” he coos.

“I second that,” Sam says with a toothy grin.

“I third that!” They all hear Clint yell from the other end of the table, causing them all to look towards him.

“Hey!” Bucky points at him and jokingly glares, “butt out! You chose not to sit with us, now own your choice.”

Clint just points to James Jr. and shrugs, “he’s nicer to me then you are, so easy choice.”

“Probably because he feels bad for you,” Bucky laughs then cooes at James Jr, “isn’t that right J-Man, you just being nice to him? You like Uncle Bucky more, don’t cha? Yes. Yes, you do!” The silly voice causes James to smile widely around the fingers currently crammed in his mouth. And then Bucky grins widely in triumph, “See Clint, he likes me more.”

“Only because you have the same IQ. Birds of a feather, and all that,” Clint deadpans as he waves his hand around dismissively. But then he bursts out laughing at Bucky’s—real, this time—glare.

“Friends off! For real this time!” Bucky says then turns, effectively ignoring Clint’s reply and whispers so he won’t hear, “who even invited that guy?”

“You did,” Nat supplies, dryly.

Bucky pretends to ponder her words for a second, “oh right. Why did I invite him again?”

Then a sing song voice comes from behind Bucky, causing him to startle slightly, “because you love me.”

Steve turns just in time to see Clint lunge and awkwardly hug Bucky from behind, “I don’t like when we fight, baby.”

Everyone laughs as Bucky attempts to extricate himself from the hug, but to no avail. Clint is like a damn hawk, once his sets his sights on you, or his hands around you, there is no escaping him. You just have to suck it up and wait for it to be over.

“You know he won’t let go until you take it back,” Y/N says from across the table.

“Two words. Hawk Eye,” Wanda adds with a laugh.

“He sees all, and once he has you locked in his sights there is no escaping him,” Sam adds with a playful cringe.

“Or did you forget why we gave him that nickname in elementary school?” Nat questions.

Bucky tries for a few more seconds then sighs deeply, clearly admitting defeat and pats Clint’s arm as he mumbles, “fine, fine. Friends back on.”

“Oh thank god,” Clint sighs out then finally releases Bucky and pulls up a chair to the corner of the table so he can join in on the conversations for a bit.

Bucky rubs his neck as if it hurts, “that was less of a hug and more of a headlock.”

“You won’t get any sympathy from us. You brought that on yourself,” Steve chuckles.

The food finally arrives and Clint ventures back down to his spot. The conversations continue on while everyone eats, and then just as everyone is finishing up and the wait staff are clearing the table, a waitress comes in with 4 bouquets of red roses. Then she hands them to Bucky who takes them and turns, giving the bigger one to Nat, “these are for you. Figured it’d be more fun to have something to hold for the rehearsal.”

Nat’s face lights up as she takes it then leans forward to kiss Bucky, “awe, that was so sweet of you.” Then she brings the flowers up to her nose so she can smell them, “thank you, handsome. I love them.”

He then hands one each to Y/N and Wanda, “same for you two.” Both women thank him and then he gives the last one across the table to Thor, so he can pass it to Hilde. Who glances up at Bucky after receiving them and lips a ‘thank you,’ before smelling them.

Then everyone collects up their belongings and heads back out to their respective vehicles.

But hust as Steve is about to unlock his truck a voice stops him. “Mind if I join you?” He glances towards the voice and sees Y/N standing there, holding her bouquet. “I came with Hilde and Thor, but with Vis and Wanda in the car, it’s pretty cramped,” she laughs.

Steve smiles, “of course, no excuse needed.” He unlocks the truck then opens the door for her, offering his hand to help her up. Once she is in he closes the door and walks around, climbing into the driver's seat. Neither one says anything for the first few minutes. But the silence isn’t awkward, exactly, though there is a tension in the air. Like they both want to say something, anything, but just can’t seem to figure out exactly what to say.

And then Y/N takes the plunge, letting out a sigh, “God, this brings back so many memories.”

He glances at her, and sees that she is looking at him with a fond smile on her face. “Us together in the car?” He asks as he turns back to look at the road.

“Yeah,” she says and he sees her nod in the corner of his eye. “I feel like anytime we had to go anywhere, I was always your copilot.”

He smiles at the memories that are now running through his mind as well, “that you were,” he affirms.

“But I was never the pilot, because you refused to ever let me drive us anywhere,” she scuffs, but the giant grin on her face proves she is joking around.

Steve chuckles, “yup. Because you were a horrible driver.”

“‘Were’?” She smirks, “not ‘are’?”

“I mean, you did run a blatantly obvious stop sign while you were, and I quote,” he glances at her again and makes air quotes, “‘reading and driving’.” He shakes his head, and turns back to the road, “but I haven’t received any calls about pedestrians almost being hit, so I’m guessing you’re a little better at driving now.”

She gapes at him for a second then bursts out laughing, “that was such a low blow, Steven. You’re lucky you’re cute, as I wouldn’t put up with your shit if you weren’t.”

“Then thank God I am,” he gives her a cheeky smile to which she returns. And then a silence falls over them again. He sees her, out of the corner of his eye, bring the roses up to her nose to sniff them. And it causes a dormant memory to scream for attention in his mind, and before he knows it, the memory is playing out in his head…

February 2011 - 7 years ago.

“Happy Valentines Day, Stevie.”

He turns from his locker to see Y/N standing there with her hands behind her back and a giant grin plastered on her beautiful face. Which, in turn, causes a massive smile to form on his. “Happy Valentines Day, Y/N,” he says as he attempts to peer behind her, wondering what she is hiding.

She laughs then reveals a teddy bear stuffy holding a red heart that says ‘I liked you before you were cool’. She shrugs and holds it out to him, “now see, you aren’t exactly cool yet, but one day, when you are, this bear will be sooo valid.”

Steve just looks between the bear and Y/N for a couple seconds then bursts out laughing as he takes the offered stuffy. “First off, mean. I am totally cool—“

She cuts him off to point out, “if you have to say that, then you aren’t.” She shakes her head and is clearly trying her best not to burst out laughing, “but continue.”

He narrows his eyes at her, “we’ll come back to that,” he promises. To which she just smirks and motions for him to keep going, so he does, “And secondly—but don’t let this go to your head too much. This is by far the greatest thing anyone has ever given me.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in for a hug, murmuring, “thank you, I love it,” into her hair then kissing the top of her head.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it,” she murmurs back into his chest.

After a moment he reluctantly releases her from the hug and takes a step back, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I uh,” he pauses, he had gotten her something but he didn’t want her to know about it. Nor was he sure he’d tell her they were from him, even if she did currently have them, “don’t have anything to give you in return.” Which wasn’t a lie. Technically.

She waves him off, “s’okay, Stevie. You don’t have to get me anything, I just saw that bear and thought of you,” she shrugs.

“Because I’m cool,” he notes with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes, and pats his arm, sympathetically, “keep telling yourself that, big guy.”

Before he can respond someone calls her name and they both look to see Hilde, Wanda and Nat motioning for her to join them. They smile and wave at Steve, and he waves back.

“I have to go help hand out the roses,” she says and he looks back towards her, “But I’ll see you later, and Happy Valentines Day.” She pauses, then chuckles, “again.”

“Okay, have fun. And Happy Valentines Day, Y/N.” He pauses for effect, “again.”

They share a quick hug and then Y/N runs off. He doesn’t see much of her for the rest of the day, as she was busy handing out all the roses. Each year for Valentines Day some of the grade twelve grad students, all by volunteer, organize some sort of festivities for the romantic holiday.

This year they had chosen to do a rose sale, meaning that for the last two weeks students could purchase roses for whomever they so choose—either anonymously or not—and they’d be delivered to that student on Valentines Day. Being today.

So Steve had secretly approached Nat on the first day of sales and ordered 17 roses to be sent to Y/N. One for each month he had known her. It was cheesy as hell. Yeah, he knows. And not just because Nat had fake gagged when he told her. But because he was always a cheese ball when it came to Y/N, and honestly, he could care less. He was proud of his cheese ball status. Long live the cheese balls! …Or ...maybe not… fear had ripped through him the second Nat went to write his name on the card and he quickly stopped her, adamantly refusing to sign his name. And telling her to mark them from ‘anonymous’.

Which she was not too pleased about, as she had attempted to talk him into being honest with Y/N this year. Saying that maybe this would be the opening he needed to finally tell her how he felt, but in true Classic Steve form, he said, “now’s not really a good time.” Nat went to rebuke his decision but the school bell rang before she could, and he quickly said his goodbye and walked off. Taking up the literal ‘saved by the bell’ moment, and not wanting to open that can of worms with Nat, again.

So throughout the day, he’d caught small glimpses of her, here and there. Like when her and Hilde had come into his homeroom to hand out the roses to the different students. 13 of which ended up on his desk, some labelled with random girls names, and some anonymously sent. Y/N had made a, “okay, so maybe you’re a little cool,” joke when she gave them all the him. Causing them both to chuckle quietly before she finished handing out the roses and left to the next class.

Then he’d ran into her again in the hall, they’d only shared a few hurried words before she had to continue on. She’d mentioned something about an entire class being forgotten. So as she tore off down the hall she hollered a, “I hope your Valentine’s Day is going better then mine!” over her shoulder.

And his day may have been quieter than hers, that’s for sure, but it wasn’t going any better. He missed spending his free time with her, she hadn’t even met up with them for lunch. But then neither did Hilde, Wanda or Nat.

So it was just the boys all day. Which wasn’t a bad thing, he’d just gotten so used to her being a prominent fixture in his days, but today of all days, that was not the case. He was being a baby, he knows, but he just missed her. A lot.

Then about an hour before the school day was up, he ran into her again. She looked utterly exhausted and completely done with the day.

“Rough day, huh?” He asked as he fell into step with her in the hall.

“That’s an understatement,” she sighed and looked up at him, “I dunno how things got so messed up. Everything was in order when we did our final checks yesterday, but then we come in this morning and it was like someone had gone through and changed a bunch of stuff.” She shook her head, “but that’s silly, who would want to mess up Valentine’s Day for everyone else?” She asked but he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer, she was just thinking out loud. So he just shrugged in response.

There was a question burning in his mind, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. So he opted to just ask, “so, did you get any roses today?”

She glanced up at him, and smiled, but he could tell it was forced. “No, but that’s okay,” she waved it off, “I figured I wouldn’t get any,” she shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal, he had bought her roses, 17 to be exact, and she hadn’t received them. So someone did, in fact, fuck with their lists.

Now he was pissed but he held it down and pulled out his phone, making sure Y/N couldn’t see as he quickly fired off a text to Nat, then tucked his phone away. Where the hell had the roses he’d bought for her gone? “I’m sorry, Y/N. Maybe there was just a mix up?”

She shook her head, “no, we found all the mix ups. And everyone else in my class got theirs, so,” she shrugged one shoulder. “But seriously it’s okay. I didn’t expect to get any, as I’m not exactly popular in the guys department,” she tried to laugh it off, though it sounded bitter and sad. Which broke his heart, he was about to reply when his phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see a reply from Nat.

“Trust me, that’s a good thing. All the guys in this school are assholes,” he mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. “But how about I take you out to dinner tonight, just the two of us?” He paused, then added, “ya know, as a thank you for all your hard work today.”

She sighed, “s’okay, Steve, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have better things to do on a Valentines Day evening then hang with your best friend.” But oh how wrong she was, that was actually exactly what he wanted the most. And she was the exact person he wanted that with. He went to protest but she continued on, “plus, Hilda, Wanda and I are having a single ladies night, so you won’t need to drive me home today, as Hilde is gonna take me. And she’s gonna drive me to school in the morning as well.” She looked up at him, “But I have to get to my last class, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Uh, okay. Yeah,” he nodded, even more bummed out now. “Yeah, I’ll ah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun with the girls, and happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he pulled her in for a hug that ended far too quickly.

“Thanks, Stevie, happy Valentine’s Day.” Then she walked off in the direction of her next class. He watched as she disappeared around a corner then instantly her was pissed again. He headed for the front doors, going to meet Nat in the student parking lot.

Once he got there he saw her standing by his jeep, papers in her hands. “What happened, Nat?”

She sighed, “I have no idea. The lists were all correct and then half way through the day, when I was going to deliver the roses to Y/N’s class with Stephanie, Y/N wasn’t on the list anymore. I have no idea what happened, all the roses were sold so I couldn’t even make up a new order for her as we didn’t have any roses left.” She glanced down at the papers, “I have searched through all the lists, everything, and I can’t find any mention of her roses anywhere. And the original list that I wrote the order on is just gone, replaced by a new list that doesn’t have Y/N on it. I don’t get it!” She huffed.

“So what do we do now?”

“Well, I can reimburse you, as now our cash box will be over by the amount of your order. Since it appears the 17 roses were sold a second time to other students.” She sighed, “I’m so sorry, Steve. I don’t know how this happened.”

Something about all this just wasn’t sitting right with him, “can I see the new list? The one missing Y/N’s name.”

She nodded and shuffled through the papers to find it then handed it to him. He glanced over it and it all clicked, instantly. “I should have known she’d be behind this,” he seethed.

“What? Who?” Nat asked as she reached to take the page back from him.

“Fucking Madi,” he growled as he pointed to the page, every order was written in the same handwriting, “that’s her handwriting.” He’d recognize it anywhere.

Nat stared at the page for a moment, before whispering, “how did I miss that! that fucking bitch.” She looked up at Steve, “how dare she! And how could I have not clued in that she’d be behind this!” She shook her head, “fuck, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

And he shook his head back, “not your fault, Nat. I don’t blame you at all, I blame her. What the fuck is wrong with her?” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Do we confront her about this?” Nat asked.

“No point now, she will just play innocent and say it was a mistake, or something. Like she just missed it when she transferred the list,” he sighed.

“Damnit,” Nat sighed as well, then whispered, “I really fucking dislike her.”

“Yeah. Join the club.”

They chatted a little longer, then Nat reimbursed him the money from the order and they both headed off to class.

This whole day had been basically shit, from start to finish. And he knew it wasn’t going to get any better, since he was well aware he wouldn’t get to see Y/N again for the rest of it.

So that evening he went to 4 different flower shops around town, the first 3 being entirely sold out of roses. Then he went to the 4th shop, and they had a couple left, so he bought them, and a vase. He removed all the cards from the ones he’d received at school and put them in the vase with the few he bought. Totalling 17 roses all together.

He then went to her house later that night, knowing she would be at Hilde’s for the night, and climbed up into her room. Which was tricky as hell with the vase. Once he finally got in, he put the roses on her desk and pulled out a water bottle, he added water to the vase then snuck back out and went home.

It wasn’t till the next evening that she finally got home and saw them, and he only knew that because she texted him a thank you.

The morning after that, when he picked her up for school, she gave him a huge hug and a playful swat on the arm, saying, “that was really sweet, but you didn’t have to do that for me, Steve!”

He just shrugged and replied, “you deserved it.”

Though she’d never actually learn the truth behind those words, or the story of the original 17 roses that went missing thanks to another girls petty jealousy.

Present - July 2018.

They arrived at the chapel, along with the whole gang, and everyone headed inside. They go over everything with the priest and then they did a few dry runs of the wedding walk. Nat wanting to make sure everyone knew how fast to walk and where to stand.

Once the rehearsals were all finished everyone said their goodbyes then piled back into their cars. Steve ended up offering to drive Y/N home and they chatted the whole way there. And once they got to her house they just sat there in his truck for an hour, catching up and laughing, before she yawned and he decided it was time for him to leave.

They shared a quick hug and then she headed inside. And as he drove away he got an idea, and vowed to go to the flower shop one of these days. As It had been far too long since he’d bought her flowers, and he had 7 years of missed Valentines Days to make up for.

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

@hopefulmoonobject @caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @badassbeckettswan @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @marvel13princess