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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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Do You Tree What I Tree?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word Count: 8730

For @justmattycakes! Happy holidays!!! Massive thanks to @spiderman-homecomeme for organizing this Spideychelle Secret Santa!

Summary: Home from their various colleges for winter break, MJ and her friends make a day out of going to cut down their own Christmas trees. Being alone in the woods—just her, Peter, and an axe—seems like the perfect opportunity to admit that her feelings for her friend have changed.

“Wine and cider!” Peter announces, jabbing a finger at the car window as they pass a rustic-looking roadside sign.

MJ smirks to herself. His touch will probably leave a smudge on the glass, which Flash will painstakingly wipe clean later. She likes Flash much more now than she did in high school—they all do—but she likes to build up a little vindictiveness towards him in advance, for when he inevitably says or does something douchey.

“Whine inside her, is that what you’d do if you could actually get a girlfriend?” Flash asks immediately. Sweet justification for MJ, though she rolls her eyes.

Flash is driving, but Betty trusts his skill enough to smack his arm from the passenger seat, then turn to smile back at Peter.

“That sounds nice. We should definitely stop on the way back.”

“Yeah,” Ned pipes up. “Maybe they’ll have a fireplace too, where we can thaw our fingers.”

“Babe, I won’t let your fingers get cold.”

“Aw, babe,” he croons, reaching over his girlfriend’s shoulder where she sits in front of him to tangle their fingers together.

“Back to your intense lack of dateability,” Flash persists. MJ swears his original asshole persona comes out so much more whenever he slides behind the wheel of his dad’s Cadillac Escalade. “Are you having a lonely winter, Parker? With only your cold lab bench to keep you warm?”

Next to MJ, Peter sighs and mutters, “Same old Flash.” She thinks he says it only to himself, but he darts a look at her and they share a smile.

“Well, I don’t have your L.A. weather,” he allows, artfully changing topic.

Flash will talk for an hour straight about the numerous perks of attending UCLA, including the constant sunshine, the short-shorts, and the absence of his current listeners. The last they all recognize to be a blatant lie, but they like him enough to let him get away with it. MJ has a special sympathy for Flash in those moments; she’s still growing from the girl she was when they were all at Midtown together, when she found it so much easier to edge away from other people or, when she did interact, to speak defensively, insultingly, and with liberal use of the middle finger. Her communication skills have flourished with not being able to see these people in person every day. She’s actually amazed with how she’s clung to them, certain she’d failed to develop the kind of solid relationships people were supposed to form in high school and that she’d just stagger forward through her fine art degree (PoliSci minor) with a wild hope of connecting to other humans through the doodles that she’s developed into graceful sketches, from sketches to oil paintings with sweep and verve.

The five of them are in their second year at their respective centres of learning now and it feels really nice to gather after living by too-brief text exchanges, missed calls, and videocalls that somebody’s roommate inevitably arrives home in the middle of, loud and invasive. When MJ’s speaking to Ned or Flash, they can push through. They have the boisterousness and, in Ned’s case, natural good nature, to conduct two separate conversations at the same time. Betty prefers to hang up and try at a better time, when they can speak uninterrupted. Peter’s different from all of the above. MJ always sees how he blushes, as though he’s being caught talking to her. It makes her flush in return. There’s no reason for them not to be as close as either of them are with any of the others, but conversations with him make her feel different. Without meaning to, their voices lower and they wander away from whatever topic they start with; on some nights, into the most intimate tracks of their inner lives. She gets why he feels caught to be interrupted because it’s disorienting for her too, being dragged back to the larger world, hearing a voice other than his in her ear. She likes traditional phone calls with him the best because she can lie in bed with her phone pressed to her ear and he doesn’t have to know.

“Are we almost there?” Ned says when Flash pauses in his rhapsodizing of Venice Beach.

MJ, sitting in the middle of the backseat, watches her friend unlock her phone and check the map.

“Yes. Under two miles to go.”

“And we’re super sure about this place?” Ned checks.

“Mhmm. A friend of a friend in my French workshop went last year and got the most spectacular Fraser fir,” Betty assures him. “I saw it at her Christmas party. That’s the one you couldn’t go to because you got the flu, remember?”

“Ugh,” he agrees.

“We passed a tree farm awhile ago,” Peter ventures. “That wasn’t it?”

“Betty told me the owners of that farm own this lot too. It’s cheaper to get your tree here because they don’t tend the lot in the same way,” MJ informs him. She likes the look on his face when he listens. She likes the feel of his leg bumping against hers as they traverse the uneven gravel sideroad.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be making up the cost difference paying for a paint job. I can hear the stone chips!” Flash complains. As if he’s ever paid for so much as a tank of gas.

“It’s an adventure, moron,” she says.

“I wasn’t prepared for stone chips.”

“I told you everything in an email last week, when we were planning this,” Betty calmly reminds him. “We should all be prepared.”

It isn’t visible to her right now, but MJ knows her friend has a shiny, compact saw at her feet, tucked into a neat black case, looking bizarrely like a tennis racket. Her own axe is trapped beneath Peter’s shoe so it doesn’t slide forward under Flash’s seat and slice the soles off his shoes. It’s quite sharp. She made sure.

“Listen,” Flash demands, “I’m the transport. Someone else can take care of the less significant details.”

“That is so fucking dumb,” Peter mumbles.

“What?”

“I said, I hope your feet don’t go numb,” he says more loudly. MJ turns her head, like she’s trying to follow the gentle backwards sweep of falling snow with her eyes when she’s really trying to hide her smile from Flash’s suspicious gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Did you wear waterproof boots and warm socks?”

“Of course. About to make winter my bitch.”

Betty twists to catch MJ’s eye.

“You wanna take this one?”

“Go for it.”

While Betty educates Flash on why that is not an acceptable thing for him to say—not with two of his female friends in the car, or ever—MJ drums her fingers on her knees. Her mittens are piled in her lap for now; despite her natural inclination to insult Flash’s ride, it heats up nicely. Plus, she’s tucked between Peter and Ned. She glances to her right to check on the latter and finds him huffing a warm breath on the window. He traces his finger through the resulting condensation, drawing a heart and writing ‘B+N’ in the middle. MJ glances at Peter and he’s already looking at her.

“So, tree?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve been told to keep it under six feet. A measuring tape and a ladder might’ve been helpful, but there wouldn’t have been anyplace to put the ladder once we got the trees on the roof of this thing.” She smacks the SUV’s ceiling and Flash goes, “HEY!”

“You can just choose a taller one,” Peter suggests, “and then cut it shorter.”

“I feel bad about the waste though. It’s a living thing.”

“I can help you with that.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ’s genuinely curious. She knows May prioritizes Hanukkah customs to keep Peter’s connection to both his ethnoreligious traditions and his lost love ones strong, so she doesn’t know how a Christmas tree fits into that.

“Right before you guys picked me up, May had an idea. She thought it might be nice just to get some pine branches for, like, generic winter decorating and to make the apartment smell good.”

“That’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah. I was gonna grab scraps from where other trees had been cut down, but I can get them off whatever tree you pick instead. Or you can. You have the axe.”

“I’ll give you a turn with it if you help me drag my tree back to the car,” MJ bargains with a smile.

“I can definitely help.”

Of course he can. He could probably carry a dozen trees if he felt like it. Over his head. With all the roots and clumps of frozen earth still attached. But the thought of him hauling the tree back with her rather than for her is something she appreciates. As she nods, she gets the fluttery feeling she’s been experiencing more and more whenever he’s called her this term. Their calls have gotten longer. A younger version of herself would be amazed at the way she can now talk for hours without noticing the time slipping past. And it never feels wasted. Actually, when they aren’t talking, MJ misses Peter. She can’t completely put it into words and so she hasn’t. What she’s done, besides continue to answer every time he calls, is offer him a chance to swing the axe she brought. Romantically, there’s room for improvement.

Their overlapping winter breaks are going to end in another week and she’s scared the calls, as treasured as they’ve become to her, won’t be enough.

“There!” Betty cries. She flings her arm across the dash to point.

“That’s the woods,” Flash says, brushing her off.

“No, that’s the driveway! You’re going to pass it!”

The jarring, inelegant jerk of the wheel as he takes Betty’s directions at the last moment tips Ned into MJ and MJ into Peter. They all groan in discomfort, but Flash seems supremely pleased with himself as he straightens the tires. Off the gravel, their passage between the trees is muffled by the packed snow on the laneway other cars have driven over. There’s a dusting on top as today’s thin flurry continues to fall. As she sits up straight following Flash’s terrible Baby Driver impression, MJ feels Peter’s hand on her back, through her coat, and her face gets hot. Unable to meet his eyes in thanks, she leans towards Ned instead and the two of them stare out at the picturesque scene where low drifts spill over the ground and every pine, spruce, and fir—all dusted in white—looks like the perfect Christmas tree.

“Hats on,” Betty instructs as Flash pulls to a stop next to a pickup truck with a tarp already laid out in its bed, awaiting a tree. “Shoelace check. Gloves and mitts secure.”

“You sound like you’re prepping us to jump out of an airplane,” Flash laughs.

He swings his door open while Betty’s trying to get back into her winterwear checklist with the rest of them, letting in a gust of cold air that disturbs the warmth MJ’s hoarded as well as Betty’s good temper. She reaches across the center console and shoves Flash with both hands, pushing him straight out of the vehicle with a “WHOA!”

Betty’s nonchalant as she flips her mirror down and adjusts the positioning of her pompom hat before stepping out of the SUV herself. Peter and Ned pile out, laughing, and MJ climbs out Peter’s side. Flash is next to the car, brushing himself off.

“I’m going to get sick,” he pouts.

“Say cheese!” Ned encourages, snapping a picture as Betty runs into shot to pose next to her victim, cupping his face between her gloved hands.

“Maybe this’ll make him change his mind about the cider place,” MJ notes to Peter hopefully.

“I feel like we’d be stopping there no matter what,” he muses. “It was either making Flash fear hypothermia or Betty sneaking back to the car first and tampering with his brake line or something.”

“So, which way looks good, babe?” Ned asks his girlfriend.

As she told them, this lot isn’t the manicured family attraction the last place was. There aren’t any employees standing around—easily spotted even as they drove past the tree farm down the road in their orange crossing-guard-style vests—or a map marking which areas are which type of tree. There’s just sort of a main track that’s been tramped down by passing feet leading between trees. It’s easy to see for a ways, but beyond that, the forest grows denser. MJ knows Betty did her homework and can identify tree varieties, and she doesn’t actually care which type she gets. She’s here for the experience, and for the idiot next to her who gives her a thrill every time the nylon sleeves of their winter coats rush against each other.

“Hmm,” Betty says, and strides forward through the narrow entrance. From there, things fan out. She taps her bow saw, now loose, against the side of her leg. “Well, what would everyone like to do?”

“I’m going wherever you are,” Ned vows. She shoots him a soft smile.

“Me too,” Flash decides. “You’ll get us in and out of here fast so we can get warm. Not like Parker, who’ll probably get lost in the first five minutes.”

“What?” Peter asks, insulted. “Will not.”

“Oh yeah? How’s your sense of direction without that robot lady in your head?”

“Karen is not a robot lady, she’s an AI.”

“Same diff.”

“It is not. A robot lady is like what they have on The Jetsons.”

“Whatever. Point is, without your GPS, I don’t trust you.”

“Well,” Peter counters, “we can just look at our phones.”

“Already tried that,” Flash informs him. “I don’t get a signal out here.”

Regardless, the rest of them check.

“That’s alright,” Betty persists, trying to be chipper to maintain group morale, MJ’s sure. “It’s daylight, the snow’s not coming down hard, and nobody’s going off alone. Now, Flash, Ned, and I are going that way.” She points, then glances from MJ to Peter. “Do you guys want to stick with us, or…?”

MJ opens her mouth and looks to Peter, shuffling beside her and doing some sort of best-friend telepathy with Ned, based on the stupid, scrunched up looks on their faces. Is he going to say something? He’ll probably want to stay with Ned. It’ll be weird if she speaks up for both of them. But if she doesn’t, when are they going to talk, just the two of them? Since they’ve all been back in the city, everything’s been done in a group—buying presents for friends and relatives, going skating, getting hot chocolate, attending Flash’s ugly holiday t-shirt party (L.A.-themed, so no sweaters allowed). The woods though. The woods are quiet and friendly and private. Snow muffles sound, fresh air and cold wake her up and fill her lungs until they burn with everything she’d say to Peter if she just had this opportunity. No Ned and Betty hanging back to offer encouraging looks, no Flash to ruin everything with a terribly timed innuendo. MJ just needs Peter. Just her and Peter. Please, dork, she thinks, don’t say Ned.

The words come from her.

“I think Peter and I’ll go that way,” she declares, nodding sharply in a direction that isn’t Betty’s.

“Yeah,” Peter adds.

Oh, thank god, MJ thinks.

“He’s gonna get you lost,” Flash warns. He’s already stamping his feet like he’s freezing to death on the spot, though the cold isn’t that bad with the tree cover. “Then he’ll go nuts in the woods.”

“I have an axe,” MJ reminds him flatly. She glances at Peter. “Bring it.”

Peter snorts a laugh.

“No one will be re-enacting anything that remotely resembles The Shining,” Betty instructs. “Meet back here in, how long, do you think?”

“Depends,” Flash says. “How long should we wait before declaring those two missing and sending out a search party, of which I will not be a member, but will be happy to direct from the comfort of the Escalade with a hot drink in my hand and my feet against the heating vent.”

“Dude, don’t do that,” Ned pleads. “You’ll make the whole car smell like your feet.”

“My ride, my rules.”

“Should we just…?” Peter asks MJ. She nods.

“Let’s go.”

“Ok, um, an hour!” Betty decides.

Peter gives her a thumbs up and the two of them follow the path as it diverges, then cut away again, wading through ankle-deep snow where no other tree-hunter has walked today. The sound of Flash goading the other two fades. MJ stops for a minute and turns to watch them march into the trees. She takes a deep breath in and out.

“You good?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.” She hefts the axe onto her shoulder to look more lumberjack-esque (and so she doesn’t slice it into her calf as she walks). “Come on.”

Despite promises to share, she refuses to surrender the tool any sooner than she must. Soon enough, she’s huffing, face passing through damp clouds of her own breath and chilling her flushed cheeks and frozen nose. Balancing her temperature out here is a tricky thing; as long as they keep moving, as they are, she stays warm, but with Peter crunching along in the snow beside her, she’s too warm. MJ bites her mitt between her teeth and unzips her coat a little to let the brisk air circulate around the back of her sweaty neck.

“You’re not gonna catch cold?” Peter asks solicitously.

She shakes her head.

“Ok,” he says, “but it’d be just like you to get sick and say nothing about it while Flash complains all the way home that he is sick when nothing’s wrong with him.”

“The only thing he’s suffering through is his body’s natural rejection of us. He spent too many years thinking he was better than we are just to end up right here, hacking down Christmas trees together.”

“Probably caroling,” Peter guesses.

“Probably. He claims his favourite holiday song is the instrumental version of ‘Carol of the Bells,’ but that has to be a lie.”

“My money’s on something super cheesy.”

“Mine too,” MJ agrees with a grin.

Gradually, she slows, taking in the pine trees around them. Her guesstimation is that some of these go up to ten or twelve feet, but there are shorter options tucked in between. Younger, or those that maybe didn’t get as much light as they grew. She wipes the back of her mittened hand across her forehead, pushing her slipping fleece headband back where it’s been sliding forward.

“So,” she asks, “any of this look good to you?”

She lowers her gaze to find Peter hastily averting his from her face.

“That one?” he says, pointing to a tree at random.

“Peter, that one’s longer than Flash’s SUV.”

“Oh. Right. Um, ok…”

Focusing now, she watches his upturned face and the serious expression that sinks into it, the way snow’s been sinking into her hair. Maybe Betty was right about wearing a hat, though Betty’s hair is also significantly flatter than hers and thus more conducive to hat-wearing. Well, it’ll be fine. They aren’t stranded or anything and the snow’s not getting to them as much as it was when they had to walk across the clearing to reach this stand of trees. They’re sheltered here. As MJ hoped, it’s quiet.

Instead of asking Peter how much of his remaining holiday he’d like to spend with her, or how he feels when she forces him to hang up the phone first (he must notice), or why, exactly, he was so quick to agree to go off into the woods with her when he could just as easily have insisted they all stay together, she criticizes the first tree he takes genuine interest in.

“Crooked.”

“Too dense.”

“Too sparse.”

“Weird empty area.”

“I swear to god, something moved in there, Peter. I do not want a fucking National Lampoon Christmas, ok? My mom will freak out if I bring a live squirrel into our home.”

He’s laughing at her when they finally spot one that looks pretty good: shorter but not squat, full but with soft, long needles rather than nasty ones bent on treating them both to non-consensual acupuncture if they stand too close. It doesn’t look sickly or as though it’s currently inhabited by birds or rodents.

“So young,” MJ does note, assessing its size in comparison to a taller tree a yard away. “Oh well.” She raises the axe and adjusts her grip.

Peter goes scrambling backwards, almost slipping, then tries to pretend he was only calmly moving out of the way, that he is not afraid of the radius of her swing. When he starts babbling about how quickly his body could probably heal from an axe wound (though, with all the crazy shit he gets up to, that’s actually not something he’s experienced yet), she finally laughs at him.

“Relax,” she says. “You can just hold the branches up at the bottom while I chop through the trunk.”

Fearless—and even more determined to prove it now that she’s given Peter a scare—MJ drops to the snow and wriggles under the tree, as close as she thinks she should be while still being able to swing the axe. Peter’s hand makes her jump. She whips her head around, nearly getting a clump of needles in the eye, but he’s only skimming her coat by accident as he gathers the lowest branches away from her. As she asked. Right, he’s not touching her on purpose and he’s not even doing the not-touching activity on purpose but because she told him to. He’s trying to help. Frustrating.

She props herself up on her elbow and takes an awkward whack at the tree. The blade sinks into the bark like it’s supposed to, but it’s still somehow surprising to feel the give. MJ takes a few more tentative swings and the axe sinks deeper, requiring some force to yank it out again. She grunts and hears Peter crouch down behind her.

“Is it going ok? Can I do anything?”

“Umm, maybe be prepared to pull the top of the tree in the other direction so it doesn’t fall on my head. I think I’m almost halfway.”

“Yes, please don’t make it fall on your head,” he requests.

“It won’t as long as you do your job,” she promises gruffly, hewing in once more.

“Do you think this would be easier with a saw?” Peter’s voice is higher now, coming from the other side of the tree. Though the branches fell when he changed position, she can feel them only resting lightly on her as he holds the top of the tree away. Probably standing on his toes.

“Don’t say anything against my axe.”

“I’m not! I was just thinking out loud!”

“A saw,” MJ informs him with another swing, “is not as badass.”

“Good point.”

But is he just agreeing because the tree’s starting to topple and the final swings to break through it take her blade closer to his shins as he dances out of the way? Maybe.

She clambers out and, with the tree now on an angle, is able to chop from an upright position, down on a diagonal until she buries her axe in the snow, then yanks it free.

“Oh, you can lay it down,” MJ tells Peter when she realizes he’s standing there with his arms full of tree, face hidden as he keeps his head pulled back from the branches.

He does so gently and then they stand there in triumph. MJ hurls her axe into the ground.

“Would you quit that?” Peter requests, jumpy.

She grins.

“Sorry. Just really feeling this.”

“I can tell.”

They took their time making their selection and can do one of two things next: either trim the branches for Peter to take home to May right here or drag the tree back to Flash’s SUV and perform the necessary amputations there. They do neither. MJ shrugs her shoulders and flexes her fingers inside her mittens, exorcising the tension of gripping the axe’s handle. She turns, glancing casually around, but really looking for something invisible—a reason to stay. A rational delay before rejoining the others.

“Hold still,” Peter says, as she’s looking back the way they came. The way she thinks they came. They stomped around this area, circling every tree, for a while, so the footprints are a little confused.

“What? If you try to tell me there’s a squirrel in my hair, I’m not going to believe you.”

He smiles softly.

“No squirrel, just snow.”

She stares at her friend warily as he approaches, then sweeps snow from her headband. That’s when she realizes one side of her coat is soaked from lying on the ground. It can’t get through though, it’s just the outer layer. Still, Peter walks a complete circle around her, wiping snow away.

“There,” he says.

MJ sighs.

“Peter…”

“Yeah?”

His face is so open as he looks at her, flakes flying around and between them. Her heart squeezes almost painfully because there have been so many days of not seeing his face without the assistance of a screen. Now that he’s here, it’s too much.

“Umm… how many branches do you think May wants?”

MJ crouches and puts her back to him, feigning being deep in concentration over the fresh Christmas corpse splayed out in the snow. She feels like a detective at a crime scene. Peter exhales heavily behind her, then drops to her level.

“More is probably better, right? She’ll probably take some in to work or try to give them to the neighbours anyway.”

“True.” They both reach for the axe. “Go ahead,” MJ says, quickly withdrawing her hand.

Peter shaves off what he thinks May might like—plus at least an armload more—in quick slices and snips.

“Jeeze, this thing is sharp.”

“I know,” she says proudly.

“I want one. For the suit, I mean. You think that could work?”

“Well, you already have a bunch of less probable-sounding features, so why not a spider with an axe made of webs?”

“Ned’s gonna be so excited when I tell him.”

“I’m excited,” she says, maybe a little too forcefully. It’s not a competition. She doesn’t think he’s already forgotten about her. There’s just some kind of glitch in her brain-to-mouth connection that no Spidey tech could possibly fix.

“I think we’re ahead of schedule,” Peter tells her.

He pulls out his phone to check the time while MJ cleaves into the fallen tree’s trunk, cutting it down to a size more suited to transport and her family’s apartment.

“We could do this in two trips,” he presses. “Take the tree and come back for the branches? Or vice versa?”

“I think we can manage it in one.”

She glances at him and he looks mildly frantic.

“Or two,” MJ amends. “Two would be better.”

Are they finally going to talk? That has to be the reason for Peter stretching this out, doesn’t it? But he moves quickly to grip the lowest branches of the tree, down where MJ severed it, and she grabs those on the opposite side of the trunk. After a jerk to get it going, they slide the tree smoothly over the snow, leaving a fine trail of needles. It occurs to her, as they walk, that she was worried about this part on the way in here, that the tree might pick up dirt from where others have walked, but the ground looks fresh and sparkling in the sun. That’s not familiar.

“Peter? Are we going the right way?”

“What? Yeah. Aren’t we? We have to be. Because the sun was…”

He gestures very unconvincingly overhead and her heart plummets in her chest. For once, not because she’s scared of saying something about her feelings for him and hearing they aren’t reciprocated, but because what Peter’s not saying directly is that they might be lost. And the worst part of that scenario is Flash being right. No, no, no, Peter will not make Flash right, not today.

“It’s been snowing,” she reviews. Stupid and obvious, but facts are soothing to her. “How much do you think it’s snowed? Not that much, right? It can’t have. We must’ve just started walking the wrong way.”

“Definitely. Ok, let’s turn around.”

So, they swing the tree with them and strike out in the opposite direction, not going very quickly as they navigate the trees. They pass the stump they lately created and MJ plucks her axe from the snow on the way past. It just makes her feel better, having it.

Unfortunately, this way isn’t correct either.

“Alright,” she says slowly. “What the fuck.”

“Let’s leave the tree for a minute.”

They set it down. She realizes she’s sweating.

“How could we be lost? How could you be lost?”

“There aren’t exactly landmarks,” Peter says. “It’s just… trees.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone to a place with signposts and neat little rows.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

He wanders over to her, watching her with careful eyes.

“I wasn’t this cold when I called today an adventure.”

“Maybe you should zip your coat back up.”

But she’s too warm and uncomfortable to do that just to challenge how he’s calling her bluff.

“Are you scared?” he asks. “You don’t need to be scared. I think we did a lot of circling. We didn’t walk too far in any one direction. I could climb a tree and look around?”

“Climb a tree? One of these trees? The ones covered in snow with the thin branches and the spiky needles?”

“Hey,” Peter jokes, hitting her arm with his elbow, “you’re supposed to be cheering me on.”

“I…” She closes her mouth. He frowns.

“Is something wrong?”

“We’re lost and Flash is going to gloat.”

“Besides that.”

“You’re trying really hard to get us out of here.” That should be a compliment, a commendation, but it sounds accusing as it leaves her mouth. MJ feels on-edge, heart beating all wrong.

“…Should I not be?”

God, she’s being strange. She can feel herself being strange. Everything’s aligning to buy her more time and she’s panicking trying to work out what to do with it. The snow is falling softly all around and she’s auditioning to play the most awkward protagonist in the history of Hallmark holiday movies.

“Are you looking forward to going back?” MJ asks abruptly.

“To the car?”

“To school. In January.”

“Umm, kinda? I mean, it’s going well. But you know that, we talked about this stuff the other day when you and Ned were over at May’s.”

“Yeah.” She’s thinking, staring down at her cut tree, debating how to mention that there’s one thing they didn’t talk about, that she couldn’t bring up, because she felt strange about doing it with Ned there. She goes to continue, unsure of her phrasing, but ready to push onward, when Peter answers, looking thoughtfully up at the pale-grey snow clouds.

“It’s really nice to be home, but I also don’t like living in the past.”

He glances at her to see what she thinks. She’s noticed that he does that a lot, when they’re on a video call. Sometimes, she teases him about it—the way he makes certain assertions sound like questions because he wants her input, values her opinion, thinks of her as wiser than him (she is) though he’s the genius playing around at the upper end of the grading curve in all of his classes.

“Sorry, what were you gonna say?” he asks, spotting the unfinished thought in her expression, how she holds her eyebrows a little too tightly together.

MJ shakes her head.

“It’s nice to have you home.” As Peter’s beginning to smile, swaying slightly towards her, she rambles on, “It’s nice to have everyone home. I mean, I could go longer between having to see Flash in person, but what can you do, right? It’s worth it to have Ned home. And Betty. And you.”

She swallows.

“There!” he shouts, pointing past her. She squints.

“What is it?”

“Our tracks.”

Trusting his superior eyesight, MJ troops after him. Sure enough, their deep treads from earlier are still faintly present—now gentle indents as the snowfall works to even everything out again.

“But we don’t have to hurry back,” Peter says. She avoids his eyes.

“Except we probably do, now that we’ve wasted time being lost.”

“We were never actually lost.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, Spider-Man. Help me with the tree.”

He does, then hightails it back to collect May’s branches once MJ’s in the clearing with only the little trail left between her and the makeshift parking lot. She pulls her bounty along and through the gap, suddenly back with the rest of her friends.

“Did you manage to lose Parker out there?” Flash asks immediately. “Nice. Up top.”

She rolls her eyes instead of meeting his hand in a high five.

“He just had to go back for something,” MJ explains, expressly for the benefit of Ned and Betty.

“What’d he do, drop some of you guys’ sexual tension in the woods?”

Flushing with the sting in the air and self-consciousness, she walks past Flash. Just close enough to drag the tree over his feet and make him start whining about getting dirt on his blindingly-white designer snow boots. When his complaints cut off, she knows she’s in trouble. It’s like the sudden silence in a horror movie that you just know means nothing good.

“Never mind,” Flash says loudly. “Sexual tension present and accounted for.”

MJ whirls around to see Peter’s arrived and is staring at her with a pleading look on his face. Or he was, until Flash’s words sunk in. Surely, Peter’s fast enough to snatch his keys, toss them to Betty, and have them all climb into the SUV and wheel outta here, leaving Flash behind? But during the holidays? She’d feel bad. He’s lucky.

“Can we just get the trees loaded?” Peter asks, moving to help MJ pull hers closer to demonstrate that it’s not so much a question for Flash as a demand for him to shut the hell up. Flash probably doesn’t understand. He’d need tact for that.

“Fine. And not a scratch on the Escalade,” Flash commands.

He opens the trunk to reveal a set of carefully folded tarps; they’re too ratty to actually belong to him, so MJ’s betting that they’re Betty’s or Ned’s. Those two went on a big, romantic camping trip together right after high school graduation, so these could be remnants. The first tarp crinkles in Peter’s hands as he pulls it out and unfolds it. Beneath the second—removed by Ned—there’s a Burberry blanket protecting the SUV from the tarps. Honestly. Momentarily forgetting about their awkward moment in the forest, MJ catches Peter’s eye and nods at the blanket. The two of them start laughing and soon, Betty and Ned have spotted them and are laughing too. Flash is perplexed, which, as always, is when he gets grouchy and defensive.

“Can we pick up the pace, people?” he requests. “I need a hot drink and an even hotter fire. I can barely feel my fingers.”

“Wait.” MJ frowns and pauses in assisting Peter with dragging the longest tarp onto the roof of the SUV. “I have a tree, Ned and Betty each have trees… Flash, where’s your tree?”

She turns her head and notices Ned just cutting off a gesture of slicing a hand across his throat to insist on her not finishing that question. Betty sighs and explains.

“Flash’s service came back while we were out there.”

“Dude,” Peter huffs, stretching to reach and finish tugging the tarp into place, “you had service? You could’ve texted us to see if we were, I don’t know, lost.”

“This should come as no surprise to you, Parker,” Flash says snootily, “but I had other priorities.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ questions suspiciously.

“He went online and bought an artificial tree,” Betty says with a roll of her eyes.

“Sacrilege.”

“More like brilliance,” Flash corrects. “It has snow-encrusted branches, pre-strung lights, and the thing isn’t gonna die in a week, so it’s better for the environment.”

“Isn’t it plastic?” MJ checks in a slow voice, waiting for him to catch on.

“Yeah.”

“Then the process used to produce it created harmful emissions and when you find it next year and decide to throw it out because you’re no longer ‘feelin’ it’ or whatever excuse you have, it’ll go straight in the trash and from there to one of the many, many local and international landfills that house our city’s waste.”

“You’re pretty judgy for a girl who just fucking murdered a tree.”

“I did my research,” MJ counters easily. “This is a sustainably managed forest. They maintain the trees, protect new growth and transplant saplings every spring to ensure the health of not only the cash crop, but the forest as a whole. Pre-light that, dickhead.”

Feeling flustered, she goes to give Betty and Ned a hand with positioning their tree on the roof. MJ stands on the ledge offered by the open trunk and stabilizes the tree while the others guide it into position.

“Tension,” she hears Flash diagnose under his breath. He’s smart enough to not meet her eye when she glares down at him.

They encounter a small problem while loading the second tree: both Betty and Ned have selected especially full specimens. Side by side, they take up the entire roof, and MJ’s tree is still on the ground with Peter’s mountain of branches, waiting to be slung onboard.

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” Ned says after jumping into the air twice to take a look at the available space (none).

“Neither do I,” she agrees. “Guess it’s going in the trunk.”

“In the trunk?” Flash is there in a, well, flash. He slipped into the driver’s seat, ostensibly to doublecheck their route home, but really to start his seat-warmer and turn the Christmas radio station back on. His distress is juxtaposed against a jazzy rendition of ‘Winter Wonderland.’

“Yeah. There’s nowhere else.”

“Guys, please. Are you trying to get back at me for the sexual tension comment? It’s forgotten. I lied. No tension here. Cut the act and tell me that thing’s going on the roof with the others.”

“While ‘that thing’ is a capitalist nexus, it’s also a precious symbol of everything I love about Christmas,” MJ says firmly, “and it’s going in the trunk of this SUV.”

“Guys?” Flash glances at the other three, but nobody sides with him.

“Don’t worry, Flash,” Betty says kindly. “We won’t use the second tarp to go on top of the roof trees, we’ll line the trunk with it instead. There won’t be any needles, I promise.”

That is definitely not a promise she can make, and MJ’s sure her friend is aware, but she’s taking a shortcut to winning this standoff and MJ admires that. The placating seems to wash over Flash like the spirit of Christmas over Scrooge McDuck. Suddenly, he’s smiling.

“Yeah. We can do that. Of course. But.” Oh no. The smile’s warping. Flash is about to be an asshole again, MJ can see it coming fast on the horizon. “The tree’s going to take up more space than just the trunk.”

MJ peers into the SUV. Shit. He’s probably right.

“Oh,” says Betty, not getting the issue, “well, we can fold the seats down, right? The tree isn’t that tall. Come on, guys, we’ve had real problems. This is nothing!”

She beams at them and Ned wraps an arm around her, hugging her to his side.

“We’ll lose a seat in the back,” MJ says.

She’s profoundly annoyed by the satisfaction on Flash’s face as she’s the one to say the words, point out the obvious. Isn’t she always? It feels like her role in this friend group and she never minds that, never has until this very situation and its inevitable conclusion.

“Somebody’s gotta sit on somebody else’s lap,” Flash singsongs. “And it’s not me because I’m the driver!”

The other four look at each other.

“Betty,” Ned begins, “you and I could…”

“But she needs to be in the front to navigate,” Flash irritatingly points out, “and before you say it, you shouldn’t double up in the front. It’s not safe.”

Maybe they can back over him when they steal his ride and drive out of here, MJ theorizes. She sighs. Loudly. Vexedly.

“I’ll sit on Peter.”

She proceeds to make eye contact with none of them, just fishes a sloppy coil of rope out of the back and works with Betty to feed it over the trees and through the windows. Some cold air will blow into the SUV, but that won’t matter so much to her, she guesses, since she’ll have the benefit of Peter’s body heat. Who needs a seat-warmer when you can have an actual human lap? Ugh, no, not funny, but she tried to consider it in a way that doesn’t make her want to volunteer to sit in the trunk with her tree.

Finally, they lift her tree and Peter’s branches inside, position them, and shut the trunk. Flash is whistling ‘Carol of the Bells’ as he practically skips to the driver’s seat. Betty, far more compassionate, gives MJ a reassuring look before she gets in. Then Peter climbs into the back, taking the middle seat, and glances at her, lingering in the snow. She groans to herself and folds into the car as Ned gives her an encouraging pat on the back.

Maneuvering is awkward. Peter cranes his neck back like his whole body is leaning to make room for her, but it’s not possible—he’s already pressed back against the seat. She sits. He rustles beneath and behind her. Before she can panic and insist on walking home, Ned gets in and slams the door closed (Flash complains).

“Uh,” Peter starts, “do you wanna shift forward so I can buckle my—”

“Absolutely not. If we’re sharing a seat, we’re sharing a seatbelt. I don’t want to end this excursion by flying through the windshield when Flash swerves the car off the road because he sees a snowdrift that looks like a butt or something.”

“Hey! I’m an excellent driver,” he complains, starting the car.

“I could just, like, hold onto you?” Peter offers.

MJ’s heartbeat rockets. She presses the top of her head to the ceiling to ground herself.

“No. We’re using the seatbelt.”

Peter stretches it away from the seat and holds it for her to grab; she passes it back for him to fasten. The second it clicks into place, Flash throws the SUV into reverse and hits the gas. Peter must move his head away from behind hers because MJ’s genuinely surprised not to feel his nose break against the back of her skull.

“Excellent driver, huh?” she questions flatly.

“There was ice.”

“Sure there was.”

Flash winks at her in the rear-view mirror and instead of siding with her, MJ catches Ned chuckling.

“I’m sorry, but it’s funny. You guys look ridiculous seatbelted together,” he says.

But she doesn’t feel so much ridiculous as confused and on alert, swaying with Flash’s accelerations and decelerations (thankfully minor compared to how he started off). Every time, Peter’s hands jump to grab her: shoulders, waist, legs. Once, he grabs her hands and even though she still has her mittens on, dripping melting snow onto the seat on one side and the tree branch she’s clutching on the other, it’s startling.

“Sit still,” Peter tells her when she jerks out of his hold.

“You sit still.”

He laughs.

“I can’t go anywhere—you’re sitting on me.”

“Then try having less bony legs,” she suggests, though they both know the nerd has more muscle mass in one of his legs than the rest of the SUV’s occupants have in their entire bodies combined.

“Right up here!” Betty directs. “We have to pay.”

MJ sags gratefully into Peter, relaxed for the first moment of the short drive from the lot to the tree farm. She tenses up again when they pull in and Betty offers to be the one to hop out and pay for their trees. There is no reprieve from Peter’s lap. She hands over her cash to her friend with a sigh and listens while the trees are removed from the roof, shaken by a machine to rid them of loose needles, and replaced for transport home. When the trunk opens and the tree farm guy slides MJ’s little tree free, she shivers at the cold air blowing in.

“Take off your mitts and put your hands by the vent,” Peter suggests.

MJ looks around and sees that the only vent she can reach is the one their feet are bracketing, down by the floor. She fights the grip of the seatbelt to bend forward. Ah. Hot air on her freezing fingers, plus, she’s out of the draft coming through the open trunk.

“This is better. Thanks, dork.”

She glances back and spots the stricken look on her friend’s face as he watches her, still seated on his lap, but now bent over. MJ sits swiftly upright.

“I’m actually not that cold,” she says, spine rigid beneath her coat and her sweaters.

Peter sighs and, while Ned’s looking out the window to watch her tree get vibrated and wrapped, tentatively offers MJ his hands. If Ned notices that they’re holding hands when the SUV is completely repacked and they’re on their way to the place with the wine and cider, he doesn’t say a word about it. It’s shared body heat. It’s a survival tactic. That’s what MJ tells herself as she finds her and Peter’s fingers moving gently from a perfunctory clasp to intertwining.

They stay that way until Flash pulls off the road at the cider spot, which turns out to be an apple orchard. Well, more than just the orchard; there’s a whole barn here, but fancy, with a designated lot and possibly a restaurant inside.

“This is so cute!” Betty says.

MJ concentrates on shaking her hands out of Peter’s before Flash puts the SUV in park and turns around to see them.

The two of them are the last out of the car and she’s stiff with the silence, listening to their friends laugh and gripe about the cold (Flash) as they wait with Ned’s door open. Before MJ can push through her thoughts and fears to say anything, Peter’s arm comes around her. Her eyes widen. …And he unbuckles the seatbelt. Probably just because she was taking too long. She slips over into Ned’s vacant seat and is about to scramble out when Peter catches her hand. MJ turns.

“Will you tell them we’ll meet them inside?” he requests.

Heart hammering, she relays the message, then looks on as Ned and Betty hustle Flash through the doors before can make another of his unwelcome comments or otherwise interfere.

“I think we really need to talk,” Peter says, after MJ pulls the door closed to preserve what little heat is left in the vehicle.

“We talk all the time,” she argues. She thinks, Yes, please talk to me.

“About a lot of stuff. You know, most stuff.” He wedges his fingers under the edge of his hat to run them nervously through his hair.

“That’s a generalization, but a fair one.”

“But, you know, lately, I’ve been, uh, wishing that we could talk about…”

“…even more stuff?” MJ guesses, hopes.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“You know, our schools aren’t that far apart,” he says, like it’s the first time he’s realizing this.

She smiles wryly.

“I’m aware. That’s why I came out for Thanksgiving first year when you couldn’t make it back to Queens. Even if we did eat take-out shrimp Pad Thai instead of homecooked turkey.”

“And,” Peter adds, “it’s why I showed up at your dorm to help you study for that midterm you were stressing about in October.”

“And why I picked up when you called me every night,” MJ says, quieter. He smiles softly.

“I was talking about the distance.”

Summoning her courage, she looks him right in the eye and lets her still-uncovered hand sneak back over his.

“What distance?”

“You’re my best friend,” Peter starts. “You and Ned.” MJ frowns. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, she’s misjudged this, seriously misjudged this.

“Oh. Well. Great. Cool.”

“No, MJ!” he says quickly, noticing the look on her face. He flips his hand under hers so their palms meet. “I’m definitely in love with you, I just mean… Well, oops, I guess I said it.”

She’s pretty impressed with her own control over her facial features—maintaining a slightly-happier-than-neutral expression—when half of her brain is setting off fireworks that seem to be landing and fizzing around on the other half. He’s in love with her. Definitely.

“For as fast as your mind works, your mouth always manages to get ahead of it,” she observes.

Peter’s expression goes from tortured and fumbling to sharp and decisive.

“That’s good advice.”

“What? That wasn’t advi—”

He darts forward and kisses her, hand emphatically clutching hers. There’s a humorous smack when their mouths separate.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, “I forgot to ask if it was ok to do that.”

MJ smirks.

“My only complaint is that you beat me to it when I’ve been trying to figure out how to do that all day.”

“I did wonder,” he admits with a small smile.

“And you couldn’t have helped me out?” she asks, exasperated.

“A big part of being friends with you is knowing you rarely need help. You’re good, like, ninety percent of the time.”

“What do you do the other ten percent?”

Peter shrugs.

“Kiss you and ask if you have plans for New Year’s? By the way, do you have plans for New Year’s?”

He tries to adopt a casual expression but now that MJ thinks about it, she can’t recall the last time her friend looked at her with anything like mild interest. He can’t pull it off anymore, if he ever could. Apparently, she wasn’t always watching that well, because she clearly didn’t know everything.

Peter loves her. He loves her.

“I have a feeling I’ll probably be available,” she tells him. “I have a bad habit of trying to be where you are.”

“I love that about you.”

MJ kisses him quickly, then shoves him away, nearly into the pine tree resting on his other side. Whoops. It’s just that she can feel how easy it would be to get caught up in this moment, and they’re still in the back of Flash’s SUV. People are waiting for them. She takes a deep breath and gives Peter a searching look.

“If we walk in there like this—” She shakes their clasped hands. “—what do I say?”

“Tell them your hands were cold.”

“I… I don’t want to hide it, I just…”

“I know. It’s ok. It’s new.”

“Yeah.”

Peter nods sympathetically. He’s her friend first; he’s not going to push her to speak before she’s ready. (He probably knows he couldn’t if he wanted to.)

She hauls the door open and they stride through the snowy parking lot together. The sun’s already struggling to come out and flakes whip high into the air, catching in the light. They step inside the building to see brightness streaming through the windows, their trio of friends crowded around a table. Flash seems to be making Ned sprinkle cinnamon into his hot apple cider while he films it—presumably to post for the enjoyment of the Flash Mob. (That’s still going. He has a shocking number of followers.) Betty turns and her gaze slips down to their joined hands. She smiles.

MJ has the excuse ready. When Flash and Ned glance over, she’s prepared to tell them her hands were cold.

She opens her mouth.

“Peter’s my boyfriend now.”

#my writing #spideychelle secret santa #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #ned leeds #betty brant #Flash Thompson #nettypot

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lambourngb · 4 years ago

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This Hard Journey

Fic prompt: “There’s something you should know…” Michael Guerin Day 2. This picks up after yesterday’s “This Hard Life” - a part of interconnected ficlets of an AU after the shed, where Alex doesn’t join the Air Force. Mentions of Malex and an Alex/Other here. Finished on ao3 here.

***

He finally got a dog, was all that Michael could think as he sat outside of the house that matched the address Max pulled from the DMV. They had always wanted to get a dog together, but with pet deposits and the tight budget for rent and food, that had always been a non-starter for them. Not anymore.

The quiet shaded street just off of the Buchanan Arts District was lined with old-style Craftsman homes among the peppered in new, renovated sprawling McMansions born of the house flipping obsession during the real estate boom. New construction sprouting between old, mature trees, juxtaposing progress with tradition.

Alex had chosen one of the older homes, untouched by the remodeling fad with a large fenced in yard filling the property footprint, and a dog house that mimicked the main house in style. Two solid years of song-writing had rewarded Alex with financial security, and of course, after three years living in cramped efficiency apartments and noisy neighbors with Michael, the first thing Alex would want again was a house. The roots of his upper middle class childhood were never far away.

Pressing his forehead against the steering wheel, Michael worked to gather the courage that kept him propelled down the over 1,100 miles from Roswell to Nashville. He had made it here, the least he could do was knock on the door instead of freaking out over the fact that Alex had a house with a mortgage while all Michael could muster in the two years since was buying a bank-possessed Airstream.

At least it was better than sleeping rough in his truck again, something he had done when he fell behind on the rent after Alex had left.

Michael took a deep steadying breath and pushed himself out of his truck. The spans of sidewalk suddenly seemed longer than I-40 through Oklahoma. Another deep breath, the irony of borrowing Alex’s self-soothing habit not lost on Michael at all, he tucked his left hand into a pocket to hide the old damage and knocked firmly on the front door.

There was a long silence extended, shoving anticipation into chagrin as Michael turned his head to peek at the tiny side-carport, confirming there was a car there. A loud, chorus of deep barks picked up from within the house. The dog sounded big, but none of that registered as he picked up Alex’s voice, muffled and indistinct.

“-calm down, buddy. Stay- no, stay- It’s probably Daddy’s new speakers arriving-”

After two and half days of driving, Michael had perfected his speech to Alex. It hit every open wound between them, from the fact he was sorry he hadn’t gone with him, to the weak but true explanation that he wasn’t ready then, but he was now. Then finally the big dice throw, the gamble of everything, that every city needed a good mechanic, Nashville was no different, it was no pressure- but maybe? Maybe they could start over?

The door swung open, and like a bag of spilled marbles, all of Michael’s words scattered away from him.

“Michael?” Alex’s polite smile for an expected delivery dropped into disbelieving shock. He did a comical double take, looking back into the house, then to Michael, then over Michael’s shoulder. The classic Chevy truck parked on the street chased away the shock. “Jesus Christ, it really is you.”

“Alex.” Michael swallowed, his eloquence gone. “You look good.”

They had had three years together, and during that time Michael had seen so many different versions of Alex Manes. He had seen Alex tired, dark circles shading his eyes more consistently than eyeliner with an off-kilter alien antennae from the Crashdown. He had seen Alex resolute, using his shoulders to impart a warning in his black clad Wild Pony shirt to any drunk who dared to give him a hard time. He had seen Alex awkward, as he helped Michael with his chores at the Foster’s ranch when it came to cleaning out a cow pen or pulling the twine efficiently off baled hay. He had seen Alex ashamed, as Michael patiently explained during their first grocery store visit that the EBT card only covered certain items.

This Alex was new. Clean, well-rested, skin clear and not tight on his cheekbones from lean meals or bloated from cheap food. An earring shined from his ear, he was dressed in a soft v-neck shirt and artfully cut frayed jeans. Good was an understatement.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here- I’m here because Isobel got married, and um, she wanted to invite you, but I talked her out of it. I’m sorry. I mean for that, but also for like, everything. Not following you here was something I regretted every day since, but I thought- I thought I had to stay back then, but I don’t anymore- and there’s something you should know-”

“Babe? Is that our new speakers at the door?” A new voice called out, cutting off the word vomit that was spilling from Michael’s mouth beyond his control.

A male voice.

The wince and apology on Alex’s face told Michael everything he needed to know. Well. He probably should have seen that coming. Only Alex’s reaching out quickly to grab his hand as he turned away stopped him from bolting from the house.

“No, not our speakers, but an old friend from back home is here-” Alex called back, before turning back to make deliberate eye contact with Michael. “He wanted to stop by to say hello.”

A tall well-built black man came into view, holding a squirming pit bull in his arms, walked toward them both with a bright welcoming smile, “A friend from Roswell? An actual flesh and blood human who knows you? I was starting to think you were an alien, Alex.”

“Just because you’re related to half of Nashville and went to school with the other half, Dennis, doesn’t mean I sprouted from a pod-” Alex shot back playfully, clearly picking up a well-worn argument.

Like a couple. A real couple. With a house and a dog. Michael licked his dry lips, forcing his muscles upward, they probably had retirement accounts. In two years Alex had built something more secure than he had in the three years in Roswell.

“Well any friend of yours, Alex, is one of mine,” Dennis greeted, turning his head to avoid an excited dog kiss before transferring the bundle of fur into Alex’s arms in a fluid movement of trust. “I’m Dennis, welcome to Nashville, um-?” he prompted, extending his left hand to Michael.

“Michael Guerin,” he answered politely, before Michael lifted his left hand awkwardly from his pocket and offered his right in return. His name didn’t alter the warm smile on Dennis’s face. Ah. So he must be a nameless ex for Alex then. Swallowing hard, Michael continued, this time a little meanly, “this hand doesn’t shake so well after I got on the wrong side of a hammer, sorry. But good to meet you.”

The stutter of the clumsy interaction hid Alex’s wince and flash of pain of the reminder.

Feeling no joy from that, Michael picked up the conversation lightly, “I’m a friend from high school. Been doing some transport work, and a job sent me here to pick up a car to drive back to Roswell, so I thought I might stop in and see what the famous Alex Manes is up to…”

“I’m not famous, I just write the words,” Alex protested quietly, before backing away from the doorway. “We were just about to have lunch, if you want to stay-”

“He’s famous, don’t listen to him,” Dennis interjected proudly. “Did you hear that new song from Paramore? Alex wrote that.”

“Oh I know, I have all the singles Alex wrote,” Michael smiled, looking around the house and at the couple with another deep breath. “I’m his biggest fan, I think. But um, thank you, I can’t stay, I gotta hit the road back to-” he started to say home, but that hadn’t been true for a long time. “Back to Roswell.”

***

Hours later with his heart heavy, Michael checked into his room at the Super 8. Normally the expense would have bothered him, but after his day, he figured he was entitled to a little bit of spoiling. And if it was sad that plain wrapped soaps and tiny shampoo bottles constituted spoiling, well, he was content with that.

The clunky black case of his small portable DVD player was propped open on the hotel bed. It was a hand-me-down as technology and electronic gadgets moved into smoother, more versatile means. For him, it was perfect to watch a borrowed DVD in his Airstream since he lacked cable.

With the entire contents of a motel conditioner in his hair, Michael started the paused video file. The shaky dark footage started playing, the sound crackling with amateur hands, before the clear, strong voice of Alex Manes filled the air.

It was probably pathetic to watch this cribbed footage from YouTube, but the romanticism that fueled his journey down 1-40 was also the same sentiment that preserved this moment in amber for Michael. Pulling open his old notebook from high school, he let Alex’s voice singing about love and loss carry him through the calculations of point atmospheric entry and the parallax distance of habitable stars.

It would be a hard journey, but Michael didn’t know any other kind at this point. Roswell wasn’t his home. Nashville wasn’t going to be home either, but the universe was ever-expanding, surely there was a place for Michael?

#mgweek20 #guerinweek20 #malex fic #the lost decade #au after the shed #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #Malex #angst here but eventual happy ending #will it show up in the tags?#no one knows certainly not me

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXII: June Bug

Naivety was such a hard thing to grasp, especially when it seemed like a great deal of the time, I was all aware of the world around me. People and their little quirks, their little things they preferred to keep hidden and the things on the surface which they played off like a mask, yet held more of a truth than they would have cared to admit.

Of course, one of the greatest examples of a person with such a quirk was the one who I loved and cherished – Vesuvius Bark (at her own request. Sometimes she could contradict herself, though not in a bad way. As much talk as she makes about wanting to be free spirited and breaking from traditions, she herself wanted most of all to settle down into a quiet life in the middle of nowhere and she also chose to take up the other’s last name, something which I never really understood and I even laughed when she said she wanted to do that, but hey, I appreciated the thought).

She fell into my lap, sobbing, after having an intense texting session with one Ms. Remora. We both sat on the floor and I knew I didn’t have to ask what was wrong, as it didn’t take a genius to recognize that things didn’t go over so well. While her head was stuffed between my legs and her muffled sobs became an ambient backdrop to our little house, I was compelled to stroke her hair. Maybe it was instinctual. Maybe I just really liked her hair. Maybe it was Maybelline (okay, bad reference aside, she did have some fuckin’ soft hair). Before she uttered her first words, she heaved out a pained sigh, then turned her head to the side and faced away from me.

“Why is it so hard for me to make friends? I don’t want to be an angry person, but then I go and say such cruel things,” she wept, her voice already quieted down, though there was a good chance that she could once again build up in intensity.

“Making friends is just hard in general,” I replied, “not to mention, now we’re no longer in the city, so it’s even harder.”

“I hated it there...so many people, sure, but it was like everyone had their own things to do and you weren’t a part of it,” she grumbled.

I poked her nose.

“Sure, a lot of people are like that, and I’m not one to talk seeing as I never really made friends in the city, but there were opportunities. Clubs and groups you could join, stuff like that. Now, however, we’re probably the only people around for miles.”

She turned silent, as if such an obvious fact were a revelation. Maybe it was a reminder she would have rather left forgotten. If that were the case, maybe a different reminder would be more to her liking.

“For what it’s worth, you’ve got Velvet and Coriander. They’re your friends, right?”

“Yeah…” She sounded listless and disinterested, though she couldn’t deny such a thing, could she?

OK. I knew where she was coming from: those two were a little rowdy. Well, mostly Coriander. Apparently she met them back when she visited an alternate timeline and met an alternate version of me (which, for the record, probably wasn’t as sexy as this me was). She probably never expected to see them again, because why would she? Not to mention, she really liked things being just us.

...But how could I refuse letting two friends of my beloved stay at our humble abode? Sure, our house wasn’t much. I built it myself (pride!) and it could be quite rickety. All misshapen, not too sturdy. Our wood floors weren’t hardwood, nor did they have that varnish, and in fact, despite how free we liked to live, we ran the constant risk of receiving splinters whenever we walked around. One of these days I’d get some varnish, or whatever it is that helped smooth wood.

But aside from those things, which trust me, there were more I could have listed, it was our home. Our quiet, sometimes loud home where we could do whatever and run through tall grass and fields of flowers right outside our doorstep. In our living room were a couple of chairs, a small sofa made of fine woven straw, and bookshelves. Before Velvet and Coriander stayed with us, there was just one room, and it was our bedroom. So of course, I had to make room (ha!) for another room. It wasn’t too bad, and they were patient.

Now we had a guest room which probably wouldn’t get much use, since we weren’t the type to expect guests. Sometimes I let the chickens in and they liked to sleep on the bed in that room. Oh yeah! We had chickens, a whole coop of ‘em! About...five chickens. That was almost half a dozen!

There was a small fan atop a stand, and as gross as it was, we just dealt with the summer heat for the most part. At nights we’d open the window a crack and let the gentle breeze in. We’d also walk around the house near-naked and fan each other with our hands. As I waited for her to speak up again, I was mesmerized by the fan, wondering why we had it on when it didn’t do much for us.

“I was just thinking...what if I took that opportunity from you? To join groups and make friends, to be surrounded by others instead of isolated out here,” when she spoke at last, her voice sounded so far away, lost, even though she was right on my lap, beside me.

Really? That? Oh bother…

I covered her mouth with my hand.

“Enough of that,” I scolded, even if my playful voice made it sound like I was open to hearing more. “It’s not like I was doing any of those things when we did live in the city! Besides, I chose to live out here. I could have refused if I wanted to, but I liked the idea. New opportunities? Peace and serenity? Hell yeah, let’s go.”

She grabbed my wrist and moved my hand away, but not before kissing my fingertips.

“It was my dream to live like this, but it didn’t have to be yours.”

Through one of the open windows, the sun’s rays leaked through and spread its warmth across my cheeks. In turn, I lifted Ves by the back, lifted her hair back, and kissed her forehead.

“You’re right,” I smiled and shook my head slow, “it wasn’t my dream. But unlike you and my brother, I’ve never been the type to have dreams. Rather, when I want something, or want to do something, it comes in a flash, and I resolve to do it right away. It’s more of an impulsive desire than a dream. So when you told me about it, no, it wasn’t a dream of mine, but I loved the idea, and I wanted to help see it through.”

Indeed, I didn’t lie. One day, maybe, I would decide that the pastoral life wasn’t for me. If that time came, maybe I would decide that I wanted to return to the city. Or more realistically, I would elect for something different altogether. Like live a nomadic life. Never settle down. Ah, it didn’t quite sound like me, but sometimes I wondered how drifters managed to get by, and whether or not I would like to live such a life as well.

She leaned up to me and pressed her lips against mine, and while doing so, I wiped a tear from her eye. After she released, she squinted her eyes as we both stared into each other’s. With her near-blinking stare, it was like she still had more tears to release, but wanted to suppress them.

“Sorry,” she allowed the word to float out through the air and into my ear, sounding much more seductive than she probably intended. My ears twitched and I jolted into a sudden shiver. Still, I’d like to believe that I kept my cool. I laughed in return.

“Don’t be,” I poked her nose, “no need to thank me, either. I’ll remind you over and over again if you need to, and even if it might frustrate me to do so, and you might be stubborn and hot-headed at times, I’ll still remind you. Yes, I love you, and I am also my own person. I don’t have to want everything you want, or agree with everything you say, especially when you say some pretty dumb shit –”

“Hey!” She interrupted, having taken offense to that. Not like she could really dispute it, though.

“– but trust me when I tell you that I chose to move here with you, and I’m enjoying it here. Sure, it’s hard, and it’s a work in progress, but of course it’s work, and at least it’s work that I enjoy doing.”

“I didn’t think it would be…” she rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Of course not!” I grinned and closed my eyes, ready to break into a sing-song rant, “you probably thought you’d be living on a bed of flowers and be eating magic mushrooms all day and putting flower crowns in your hair, going off to bathe in a pond, all the while forgetting that you don’t like bugs and don’t like to get dirty. That you’ve got pollen allergies, and you’re so used to taking showers that you could never imagine doing such a thing –”

That time it was her turn to cover my mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Indoor plumbing has spoiled me,” she scoffed. “But I also didn’t realize that I’d break a sweat farming, or that getting plumbing set up would be such a pain, or that we’d have to worry about foxes or coyotes trying to sneak in, or that chickens needed attention. So much goes into building a home or keeping cool in the summer and warm in the winter. More than I ever imagined.”

I laughed again.

“Not just that, but bugs still sneak in all the time, anyway,” I pointed out.

“Eep!” She jolted up, then scowled. “Why’d you have to tell me something like that?”

Yeah, I guess I didn’t have to tell her that. It was pretty obvious, huh? Still, it wasn’t like I was trying to freak her out or anything. She then turned to a laugh.

“Ah, well,” she sat up and smiled a wide smile, which almost gave off a smug aura. At least she sounded more relaxed at last. “Bugs are just something I have to live with. They’re part of nature, after all, and I love nature, even when it appears cruel. Even when it frightens me. I just get a little jumpy sometimes.”

I grinned as well.

“I’m glad you seem to be feeling better!”

Wide-eyed, as if struck by the realization of her ease in spirits, she turned her head to the side and rested it on her shoulder.

“Sorry about that...it’s what it all comes back to: I got into a conversation with Remora and then it seemed like she was pushing me away, so I tried to help her, and I lashed out, and –”

“Yeah, I know,” she already told me everything that was going on as the texting battle was happening. I didn’t really need the recap. “To be honest, she kind of had a point with one thing: I don’t think you meant anything bad by it, but your whole basis for wanting to be friends with her was because of who she resembled. You even told me yourself how you saw it as a second chance, since you didn’t get to help Rhea.”

“But you gave her your number too!” Ves protested, as I knew she would. Being defensive was just one of her charms.

“I thought it could be fun, yeah, if she was down to fun. But it seemed more important to you. I can’t really fault you for feeling the way you did, but I can also understand why she wouldn’t appreciate that treatment.”

“You’re right,” she sighed. “I guess her death just affected me more than it should have. Never would I think I’d have such prolonged grief. Especially when you consider how brief I knew her for, and the fact that we were adversaries.”

I nodded.

“Still, whether or not you’d like to admit it, it doesn’t take long for you to form connections. You two did more than just try to kill each other, right? There were times when it was just talking, like what we’re doing now.”

“You’re right,” she repeated. Something which fed my ego on days when my ego was hungry. Really, I couldn’t help but beam upon hearing that. “It must be hard dealing with me, huh? Going back and forth. Lashing out at people, getting defensive. I wish I could be kind, like you.”

You know, there were some things that just pressed my buttons. It wasn’t her lashing out or being defensive that really got to me, but that was something I could do without. After a deep breath, as if I was about to scream my head off, I spoke, calm and composed, even if the buzzing of my heart would have suggested otherwise.

“Not really. I’ve dealt with you for years now. You aren’t much trouble at all. It’s just as you say: all defense mechanisms. Even when you’re down on yourself, it’s just because you’re afraid to accept that there are good sides to you.”

“How does that make any sense?” She scowled. I ruffled her hair, and she tried to stop me, but it was too much fun.

“And another thing,” I added, still messing up her hair, “you already are a kind person. We’re more alike than you realize sometimes.”

“We are?” She whined, unable to keep me from messing with her hair.

“Yeah. Of course. We’re both sensitive people.”

“You too?”

“Of course. It’s not like I’ve just got a few predetermined traits and that’s it. I’m not some fictional character.”

“Ha. Neither am I.”

“If I was, I’d probably want to be a dragon or something!” I declared, “But alas, I am baby.”

She turned to the offensive now, using her own hands to mess with my hair. Luckily for me, I was into that.

“OK. Yeah. That’s true. I’ve seen you cry before,” she teased.

“Hey! I’ve seen you cry too!” I protested, then pounced on her, knocking her back to the floor.

As I stared down at her, a sly smile crept on her face. I stuck out my tongue and blew raspberries, then I plopped down to rest on her chest.

“You know, it’s hard not to lash out or get defensive sometimes. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Thank you,” she stroked my back as she leaned close to my ear and whisked the two words away before turning to nibble on my earlobes.

Of course things would escalate from there. Then there was probably a good chance we’d sleep all day. One great thing about the both of us was that we could both be lazy people and unashamed to say so.

Despite all the lovey-dovey antics and the way she could always come back down from the boiling point she’d reach, things weren’t always ‘couple goals’ or whatever someone might have called it. Trent once claimed that I took a liking toward Vesuvius right away, but that wasn’t quite true. When Trent first took her home, I didn’t know what to expect. My first impression was that he shouldn’t have let someone, let alone a stranger, live at his place rent-free, but then again…

“Hey, this is kinda last minute, but I just got evicted!” I announced in a panic. Just a couple years before the homeless stranger moved in, and there I was, ready to move in.

“What?! How? That doesn’t seem like a ‘last minute’ thing!” He complained, which he had every right to, but...circumstances and all.

“Okay, so first work fired me a few months ago because my boss kept getting onto me about getting distracted looking at power tools, only to get distracted looking at screws and nuts and bolts and all that good stuff. Anyway, I guess he said this wasn’t the first time I was caught doing that, and he’s had many talks with me about it and they all just went waaaaay over my head. Long story short, I spent a couple months without a job, but not to worry! I was able to pay my rent...three months ago. Anyway, long story short, I just got evicted.”

Sure, some could say something like ‘what a stereotype! A cool woman who worked at a hardware store? How cliché!’ But for the record...shiny metal objects.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could’ve helped you!”

“I mean, I thought I’d figure out something, but oops, the time just went by.”

“That’s more than an ‘oopsie’!” He balked.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m just glad I managed to hold this job while you were a med student. Hell, I didn’t think I’d still be working there after you became a doctor, and to think I never rose in the ranks one bit. Retail’s a joke, am I right?” I nudged his arm. He didn’t seem so amused.

“But yeah, if it’s not too much trouble, can I crash at your place? I get that it’s out of the blue and all, and if you say no, that’s fine, I don’t mind. Your poor little sis can just go live on the streets. But I’d rather not go back to living with mom, either way.”

“I wouldn’t want that for you either,” he agreed. “Come on, come on,” he motioned me in, although he did groan and roll his eyes.

“Good news is I got 24 hours to get my stuff, so I should be all moved in in no time!” I did my best to stay positive. I already knew this was a heavy burden on him.

“Do you...do you need any help?” He blinked and turned to the side while asking all awkward-like.

“Nah. You’re already helping plenty by letting me live with you! Just leave it to me!” I pounded my fist against my chest and grinned to further assure him that assistance would be unnecessary.

So just after coming in, I ran back out. It took a few trips, but luckily I didn’t have anything pesky like furniture or appliances.

“How did you sleep?” He’d ask me.

“Two words, bro: Air. Mattress.”

Indeed, those things were a life saver. Call me self-sacrificing, but I really didn’t have much money considering most of my paychecks went toward getting Trent through med school. What could I say? I could afford a few years of squalor, but could he afford an endless amount of student debt? I didn’t think so.

“Well, first chance I get, I should get you an actual bed,” he stated, and as hefty as a statement as that was, there were no hints that he was joking.

So for a little while, I just slept on the couch. While by the time Ves had moved in, I had a bed in my own room, I still slept on the couch out in the living room from time to time. It was nice; I’d watch cheesy horror movies like Gremlins, Critters, and The Brave Little Toaster. Really, I felt like royalty and all I needed was to make a little crown out of scrap metal.

Funny how that was even a thought, huh? Funnier still were the thoughts that were really memories that I hoped to have forgotten. Just a couple days after I had moved in, Trent brought up a topic that was far and away from my mind. He had just gotten home and set a bag of groceries at the table. For my part, I turned and leaned against the edge of the couch.

“Got any bananas for me? Oranges? Apples, even? Dare I say, cupcakes?”

“Yeah,” he answered, his back was turned, not even bothering to turn around, and threw a banana my way from over his shoulder. Maybe he thought that he could hit me with it, but my reflexes were too good. I caught it, firm in my grasp, one handed. Take that.

“Oh, while at work today I randomly remembered something,” he mentioned. Back still turned.

“Oh?” I didn’t know what to expect. It could have been anything, but based on how his mind worked, I figured it would just be something mundane.

“Yeah. I think it’s ‘cause you just moved in, but it got me thinking about how when I first moved in a couple years ago and you helped me move.”

“Heh. All because I got better muscles than you,” I sneered.

“...That aside, remember how there was that time travel device that looked like a Nintendo 64?” He asked.

I gulped. To be honest, it was a faint memory, and there was a tinge of jealousy somewhere mixed in, but all in all, it was a cloudy thing.

“You’re the one who thought it looked like an N64! It was probably just some old record player,” I dismissed.

“Okay, but regardless of what it we think it resembled, point is, it was legit,” he turned around now, one hand on his hip, the other hand holding an apple.

“I don’t know about that…I never even got to test it out. It was all you. For all I know, you could’ve just made a break for the convenience store while I was cooped up in this apartment.”

“Sorry about that,” he said all casual, like it was a quick run and done apology. “But you can’t deny all of it. I mean, we were both there when that teenager with a wool overcoat barged in and tried to take the device back, and then this apparent message from her father showed up and it was all weird and freaky. I really don’t remember what was said, but the imagery is still there.”

I nodded.

“That does sound weird. Are you sure we both didn’t just dream it all up? I mean, I barely remember any of that shit, and that’s probably for the best. It’s not like it really changed our lives in any way. Even if it was real, it was a random occurrence that I’ve moved on from.”

Maybe that was too harsh. Then again, was it even harsh at all? It was what it was, wasn’t it? There wasn’t really much to something that I didn’t even have a part in. He shrugged, and I knew he didn’t find it to be a big deal, just a topic he found interesting. Like a song he hadn’t heard for a long time, and out of nowhere, the lyrics played out in his head. Or maybe there was some other analogy he would’ve used, probably something D&D related.

“Yeah, it’s not important or anything, it’s just something I remembered. Like, at the end of that message, she was all crying and hugged you and I imagine that was awkward for you.”

It sure was. Damn it, why’d you have to bring that up now?

“Ha. As if a girl would ever hug me in real life. We all know I’m the one who does the hugging,” I closed my eyes and pointed my thumb against my chest, with a smug grin glued to that slab of skin we called a ‘face’.

“Anyway, I just thought it was neat. Not that there’s really any take away from it. Sorry if it made you all defensive,” he shrugged.

“What?” I gasped. “Me? Defensive? As if! I don’t even believe in time travel! Furthermore, it doesn’t matter how cute a girl is, I do not want to be hugged by no teenager! Only people my age, peas and thank you.”

Again, he shrugged, as he was prone to do.

“Well, like we said, it doesn’t really affect anything It’s not like we’re going to see that person again, and I doubt any other weird people are ever gonna enter this apartment.”

He sounded so sure of himself.

So when she finally showed up at the apartment, it was as if he had spoken a curse into existence. Even if I may not have remembered what he said at the time, there was an aura about the whole thing, like, “I just knew this would happen.”

Most of the time, Trent would be out, I’d be in my room, or in the workshop (it was originally a walk-in closet in the hallway, but after some tweaks here and there, it became a full-fledged tinkering room) and whichever place I’d happen to be in, a soft near-silence would follow. Buzzes from the refrigerator carried through the air, little drafts here and there. Clangs from the pounding of a hammer upon a steel table. Hums of a ceiling light. Those sounds.

If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought I was alone. But just the other night, Trent brought home a woman who was out on the streets and let her stay in the empty room (first room down the hall. How things went were kinda like...you walk in, walk down the hall, first room to the right, empty room. Then next door is to the left, and it’s workshop formerly known as closet. Last two rooms furthest down the hall were Trent and I’s. Mine on the right, his on the left). My brother had a big heart, no doubt about that, but something like that was a little unprecedented.

The day after he brought her home, I wasn’t even sure if she was still there. I spent the whole whole day cooped up in that apartment, flipping through channels, making myself PB&Js and generally having a good time. I’d put on some disco music and dance out of sheer boredom. Still, not once did I see that door open. Not once did I see that mysterious homeless lady, not even at a passing glance.

Same thing with the day after alongside the little ambiance. No hints nor signs of another soul besides mine.

It was still early in the day, a little before noon. Light shone through the gaps between the blinds in the windows. Restless, curious even, I approached the door to that empty room.

But it might not be empty. That stranger might be there.

My heart was as worked up as my mind was and as my hand reached for the door handle, I had to stop myself.

“It would be rude to barge in,” I muttered. I drew a hefty breath. We all knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, but all the same, I was hesitant. “I know if someone barged into my room, I wouldn’t like it much…”

So I raised my arm just a cut above the handle and balled my hand into a fist, ready to knock.

...Yet I didn’t. There was a worry in me that I’d knock too loud, so I released my grip and let out another belabored breath.

As long as I’m quiet, it shouldn’t be a problem, right? And if no one’s there, all the better. If someone’s there, all I gotta say is, “sorry I didn’t know there was someone in here.” Yeah. Foolproof.

“Here goes…” Confidence was not on my side, yet there I was, my palm on the handle, and I turned, gave a little pull, and let the door do the rest of the work as it coaxed itself open, propelled by the gentle momentum. I crept through the gap, then stood, stunned.

She lay there, spread across the floor. An orange striped blanket covered her, and underneath I spied a purple rain jacket. I crouched down next to her, still filled with wonder, still hoping to keep my movements quiet. As I leaned in, I felt a jolt rush through me, shocked at how close I was to her face.

You know, she’s actually quite beautiful now that I’ve got a good look at her: Her hair isn’t so much golden blonde as it is such a light shade, almost white. Mystical. Her skin looks soft, radiant even. However old she is, she’s definitely got that ‘babyface’ thing going on. She looks peaceful with her eyelids shut and little warm breezy breaths wafting out from her open mouth. She must be deep in sleep right now. I was right to be quiet. Sure, she smells kinda mildewy, but she was out in the rain after all.

My eyes traced down her back and I couldn’t help but notice how the blanket didn’t cover all of her. Her legs were folded, but even so, it was apparent just how tall she was.

“Now’s not the time to be horny, Juniper,” I scolded myself in a whisper. “I only came in to check if she was actually in here. Now that I know, I can leave.”

I began to get up, but was stopped when I noticed her begin to stir from her sleep. She stretched out and her arms ended up on my lap, and she must have mistaken it for a pillow, as she crawled up my lap until her torso was leaned up against mine, and I found myself frozen in nervousness.

Uh...what do I do now?

Despite her eyes not yet open, she continued her way up and placed a hand on my cheek. I could have stopped her, I could have moved her hand away, but for whatever reason, I had no desire to.

“My love…” She whispered in a faint, breathy voice, then she fell back down and went right back to sleep. Out of all of the things to happen next, that wasn’t something I expected.

I blinked.

“Excuse me? Do you just say that to the first person you see?” I could no longer control the volume of my voice, I was too dumbfounded for that. Yet despite my reaction, she didn’t wake back up.

I managed to pull her off of me without waking her (spoilers: she was indeed a heavy sleeper), then left the room. As far as first impressions went, that was...something. Not something I could really put words to, but I’d be sure to tell Trent about it.

Just a day later, Trent and I sat at the kitchen table and I couldn’t help but bring up our guest.

“I finally had an encounter with her,” I opened up the conversation.

“Who?” He wondered, an earnest clueless tone.

“The one you brought home a few nights ago, who else?” I scoffed.

“Oh, right. She’s still here?”

I stared at him.

“How are you this careless?”

“Hey, I’ve been busy with work, I’ve not had time to check in. It’s not like she has to stay here or anything, she’s free to leave at any time.”

“Maybe she should leave,” I let slip.

“Why’s that?” He seemed surprised.

“We don’t know anything about her, Trent. We don’t know what she’s like or whether it’s safe to keep her in the house,” I argued.

“She told me she was running from something,” he mentioned, and although concerning, that only solidified my point.

“Then what she needs is a women’s shelter, not some bumbling doctor and his lazy sister,” and upon realizing how I described him, I added, “no offense, by the way.”

“None taken. Look, I’m the one who pays for this apartment, and besides, I let you live here when you didn’t have a home.”

That...he had a point. But boy howdy, I was stubborn.

“Yeah, but I’m your sister. You know me. You know, yesterday when I checked in on her, you know what she did?”

“What?”

“She woke up and climbed up to me and called me her love. Like, what the fuck? Not to say I wasn’t into it, but I also wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?” He inquired, then sipped his cup of coffee. I was just about to swipe that mug out of his hand.

“What’s the – oh, never mind. She can stay, obviously, and I’m not trying to make a big stink about her, but I just want you to be realistic and not overburden yourself. For that matter, has she been eating? Does she have food? Because if she’s not eating here, and just locking herself up, then she really is better off in a shelter than here.”

He shrugged. Classic.

“I’m guessing she feeds at night,” he suggested.

I’m sure the argument would have went on for at least another hour, but before I could get another word in, we both turned and saw the door to her room creak open. Although at first, we didn’t quite spot her, and her movements were languid and wraith-like, nary a sound made, we both caught her attention as she drew near the front door.

“Oh, uh, sorry if you heard us talk about you!” I called over, flustered. Out of all the things, I didn’t expect such a sudden appearance. She glanced at me, but then turned her attention toward Trent instead. So rude.

“Thank you for letting me stay, but I’ll be taking my leave now,” she told him.

“Oh? So soon?” He seemed surprised. I mean, it was what? Three days? That wasn’t super soon or anything. She looked down on the floor.

“It just dawned on me...who you two are...it’s not a good idea for me to be here any longer,” she muttered.

The hell does she mean by that? I wondered.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, I won’t stop you,” he brushed aside. He could be like that if he wanted, but something didn’t sit right with me.

“So that’s just it, huh? You took advantage of my brother’s kindness and now you’re going to bail?” I scowled and sharpened my voice. That time, I got her attention.

“Excuse me? He invited me here. If you have a problem, take it up with him,” she shot back, also wearing a scowl on her pretty face.

“I already did. He was willing to help you and instead you hid out and starved yourself.”

Her brow creased further and so did her lips. I thought I could spy little fangs protruding and clenched down against her lips.

“I can take care of myself,” she growled. “Who are you to tell me how I should and shouldn’t be?”

“I’m the one you called your lover. Or did you forget that little mishap?”

That time, her fists clenched as well.

“For your information,” she seethed. “I was dreaming and must have mistaken you for someone else in my sleep. I assure you, I would never want you as a lover.”

“Wanna bet?” I flared up as well. Really, out of all the things to argue about, at that point it seemed like I was arguing just to argue.

“This is ridiculous…” she turned her head away, and reached for the front door. “I don’t need any of your help. I’m better off alone, anyway.”

Once she set her hand on the door handle, however, she hunched down and clasped her head with her other hand. She started to heave and moan as if she were about to throw up. That time, both Trent and I were concerned. He was the first to get up and rush to her side. Something in me made me jealous, as if I were just a little quicker, I would have been the one at her side.

“Are you okay?” He held onto her.

“I’m fine,” she rasped, even if the aching of her voice proved otherwise. “I’m just a little dizzy and nauseous and have a bit of a headache. I’ll be fine.”

Defiant until the end, I noted.

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” He asked.

“No! I don’t need a hospital!” She lashed. “I’m – urp,” she was probably going to say that she was fine again, but had to stop herself. She both looked and sounded like she was struggling not to throw up, and at that point, she let go of the handle and held onto the base of the door itself.

For my part, I had gotten up, but I was at a loss for words. I stood there and watched, horrified and worried for this stranger’s sake.

“My...my brother’s a doctor…” I spoke up, much less confident than before. “If you don’t want to go to a hospital, he can treat you here.”

“I can?” He looked at me. Sure, it was a spur of the moment comment, and he didn’t have any medical equipment at home, but I bet he could manage.

“I’m…” she glared at me. “I’m fine. I’m just not good with the daylight and I haven’t eaten for several days.”

“Stop!” I yelled. “Stop saying you’re fine. You’re clearly not and you shouldn’t be starving yourself. We can help you here, but you need to accept our help.”

Her gaze was fixed on me, and she stared. But rather than a scowl, she looked dejected and faint. Ready to pass out at any moment.

“Fine…” She relented at last.

I ran into the kitchen and poured a glass of water from the tap. When I rushed over to her, I held the water up to her face.

“Drink. Please.”

She did so, but then spit out the water. It didn’t look to be on purpose, but I still would have preferred if it didn’t happen.

After a moment, she was able to swallow more, and I took the water back. She stood back up.

“I’ll stay a while longer. I guess.”

“Good. But while you’re here, you should eat with us,” I tried to lay out at least one ground rule.

She looked away, held her sleeve up to her mouth, and I thought I could spot a blush upon her face.

“I’ll do it for you,” she groaned.

It would be best if she did it for herself. For all her talk of handling things on her own, it concerned me that she hadn’t been taking care of herself. Maybe she wasn’t able to, but it seeemed that rather than being unable, she just wasn’t interested in doing so. Still, it was a start.

So yeah. It wasn’t the best start and I wasn’t really sure how things developed to the point that we were bonafide wives who looked out for each other. There must have been a journey that led up to it, but I still couldn’t pinpoint when it was that we became genuine lovers. It was probably about a couple years before we got together, so there was some kind of build up at least.

No matter the case, I was glad with how things turned out. We had each other and I had a workshop in my shed, she had her greenhouse with its poisonous plants. We were both in good health and even if her mental state wasn’t always the best, I loved her range of emotions and we were strong enough to recover from whatever it was she dealt with.

Life had a great deal of difficulties, even without the burden of money and city life. That said, both of us were in agreement how happy we were for things to just be the two of us in our place of solace. That said, we welcomed her friends Velvet and Coriander, and like Trent before me, I was sure I’d welcome anyone who wished to stay with us.

“Oh! By the way!” I was reminded of a potential visitor we may have. I was sitting in the armchair, Ves had just gotten back inside after tending to her greenhouse. She wore sunglasses, a face mask, gardening gloves, and a pair of pliers (that’s what they were, right?)

“Hm?” She looked my way and her voice was muffled under he mask.

“Demetria’s mom called the other day. Remember Demetria?”

She shook her head.

“At the wedding, she was the pipsqueak? Your cousin-in-law? Anyway, her mom’s worried about her. Apparently she’s been dealing with a lot. Demetria, not the mom. She sent her mom a text saying that she plans to come over here and stay for a while, so her mom was asking if Demetria was here.”

“Are you going to let her stay here if she comes?” She asked.

“I don’t see why not? She’s family, even if I don’t really know her all that well. Besides, you stayed with Trent and I for years before we moved out.”

“True. I was just really enjoying it just being the two of us out here.”

“Aw, me too, hun. But we let Velvet and Coriander stay.”

“I was reluctant about that too,” she pointed out.

Maybe it was bad to say so, but I kind of found her possessiveness to be cute. Besides, I knew she had a good heart and wouldn’t mind someone else being here, even if she wasn’t too keen on the idea.

“I know how you feel, I can read you pretty well. But you don’t have to worry, we don’t have to give up our free life or anything like that. We’ve got our own room, she’ll have hers, and I’m sure she won’t mind how we are, anyway.”

“You may be right. Sorry, I’m just quick to not like something. I’m sure I’ll be fine with her here, and maybe I could get to know her better, too. I’ll do my best to treat her with kindness,” she resolved, then nodded.

“I know you will,” I agreed.

Between the two of us, she may have seemed like the less kind one, but as I said, we were more similar than she realized.

Even if I couldn’t pinpoint where our love for each other blossomed, I could at least recall when I resolved to be there for her.

See, while we began to eat meals together, and she bathed and got new changes of clothes (courtesy of Trent), she still seemed kinda secretive. Like there were just some things she felt she had to keep hidden. However, on my end, I was fixated on those words when she was first about to leave.

“Did you happen to meet us before you moved in?” I’d bring up at times, or ask, “have you known about us from somewhere?”

But each time, I’d get dismissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sorry,” or, “that’s a strange question to ask.”

But I could tell she was being coy about it. However, her attempts at hiding the truth wouldn’t keep me from wanting to know.

One evening, I entered her room. I gave two light taps beforehand, and in response, she called, “come in.”

As soon as I did so, I saw her try to hide something away from me.

“Hey, what’cha got there?” I asked.

“Just some random junk I found when I was homeless,” she rushed to say and scrambled to find a place to hide it.

“I like junk,” I let her know. “I like making things in my workshop. I’m sure I could put it to good use.”

“No!” She hissed.

I backed away, disappointed.

“Is it that bad?” I pouted.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she huffed.

“Try me,” I crossed my arms.

She sighed, then showed me. My eyes widened as I recognized its cubic shape and little buttons. Despite its primitive look, she had pulled parts of it apart and chips and wires hung out. It looked less like she broke it, however, and more like she was trying to make improvements to it.

“Is that…?” Flashbacks to when my brother first moved in started to play out and my head spun trying to piece together the implications.

“It’s mine. I’ve modified it, but I’m working on making it better. It’s hard work. I’m not good with technology, but I’ve studied its contents here and there and have already figured out some things.”

“But...how?”

“How what?”

“How do you have that? I know I’ve seen it before and –” She stopped me before I could finish.

“Like I said, it’s mine. We met before, years ago, when I was younger. I didn’t think I’d ever run into you two again, I didn’t even want to, and when your brother took me in, the incident was far from my mind.”

“Incident?”

“After I took my device back. No, my father’s device, I returned home, but things were strange. I couldn’t stay. Anywhere. There were dangerous people after me, people who wanted to use me, and ever since, I’ve been on the run. It’s only been by coincidence that I’ve come to this time period and met you two. I swear, I never wanted to put either of you in danger.”

“What are you talking about?” The more she spoke, the more outlandish things seemed to be.

“You already know.”

“That’s not possible. It wasn’t that long ago, and she was just a teenager. You’re the same age as me.”

“Exactly,” she stared, her face dead serious. “For you, it may have only been a few years or so, for me, I lost more years than that. I’ve had to travel through time, fend off people you never wanted to meet, and now I am the person you see today.”

“That’s ridiculous. Time travel isn’t real. Did Trent put you up to this?”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” she shook her head, “even though your own brother traveled through time, you refuse.”

“I don’t even know if he did. I never even got to try that device before you, er, she took it away! So what proof do I have?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t prove it, but I’m not lying.”

“Prove it,” I was adamant. It really wasn’t fair on her, but I just felt like I was pulled in on some practical joke, even if I knew it had to be true. “Take me somewhere. Anywhere through time. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.”

“Don’t believe me if you don’t want to, but I’m not going to do that. It’s too dangerous.”

“I bet I can handle it. I’m tougher than I look,” I called her bluff.

Despite wanting to protest further, she gave in, a mournful expression having taken hold.

“Very well. We’ll go. Give me a few days. May I use your workshop?”

“Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Good. When we go, make sure to stay close to me,” she instructed.

After a few days passed, she came up to me while I was on the couch watching Trent play one of his games on TV. I think it was something called ‘Deus Ex’ or whatever.

“It’s done,” she informed me.

I sprung up from the couch.

“Later Trent. I’ll be back, uh...sometime,” I told him, then hopped off to follow her into her room. From behind, I could hear him say something like, “not like it’s any of my business what you two do in that bedroom.”

Of course, I ignored it.

Once behind closed doors, she told me to pick a time period.

“I don’t know...hm...maybe the 1930s? I’ve always wanted to see the great depression. I’m sure it was neat!”

She raised a brow.

“Neat? Oh, never mind. Sure,” she disregarded, then entered in 1932 and today’s date into the device, then hit enter as we held on tight. Before, I knew it was supposed to only be one person per use, but through her modifications, we were both able to go.

It was instantaneous. A flash. One moment, in that bedroom, the next, in an empty deserted street, houses left abandoned.

I looked around, the sky was some darkened indigo color with a gray hue washed over it. Everything about where we were at looked gloomy. Next to the rows of buildings was an open field of long grass.

“Well...this certainly looks like some kinda depression,” I remarked.

She wasn’t so amused, however, scanning the area like a hawk.

“Something isn’t right,” she mentioned.

“What isn’t?” I tried to ask, but she ignored it.

“Let’s move on. We shouldn’t linger too long. If anything happens, hide.”

“What would we hide from?” I once again tried to ask.

She didn’t answer. We continued to walk forward and a newspaper flew by on the ground. I snatched it up and noticed its date. The year on it was 1931 and the headline was about a food shortage.

“I can’t believe it…” I muttered.

Still, believe it, I must. There was no longer any denying where I was, even if I wanted to. However, what lingered on my mind was why we hadn’t encountered any signs of life. Not even someone desperate or starving, but just us two. Maybe it had to do with the time period, but I would’ve figured there would be at least one person we passed by.

Further down the street, we spotted a few old looking roofless cars. Then, a static-y sound erupted.

“Crap,” Ves hissed, then turned to me. “Juniper. Hide.”

Without even knowing why, I did so, feeling an inexplicable pounding against my chest, a foreboding sense burned through. I ducked down, crawled underneath one of the cars. My breaths grew heavy and I was worried about being given away, even though I didn’t know why. I could just sense that I shouldn’t be found.

Up ahead were the clacks of footsteps and I looked ahead, despite my narrow vision, to see a group of a few people in black slacks and black dress shoes.

“Well, well, Etna. We didn’t expect you to show yourself,” one of them spoke, a venomous delight to their voice.

Etna?

“Worry not. I won’t be here long,” Ves’ voice turned into a cold monotone.

“Of course not. Because we’ll be taking you, and your guest away.”

Fear washed over me, a jolt which would soon give way to panic.

“Fuck,” Ves hissed. She swerved down between the car I was hiding in and another and gunfire erupted. I saw her sneak to the other side of the car as cover.

“Juniper,” she turned to me and slid the device over. “Hold on to it. I’ll take care of them.”

“But they know I’m here too!”

“They don’t know what you look like, they just know I didn’t come alone. If things take a turn for the worst, I want you to use the device and head back home.”

“No. I’m not leaving without you.”

“It’s me that they want,” she scowled. “I’m telling you this to keep you safe. They’d want the device if they could get it, but I’m their top priority.”

So that’s it? You’re just going to let them capture you? I don’t see how you can get out of this mess, thoughts flooded me.

Despite my fears, she wasn’t as defenseless as I believed. It was like she was prepared for such an encounter, as she leapt over the car she had been behind and shoved herself into one of the strangers. As one tried to grab her, she grabbed the gun of the one she knocked down instead and shot them. There were two more, one which got shot in the chest and the last one, she struck beside their forehead with the gun she had in hand. Even the gun looked strange, like some kind of liquid was sloshing around inside, like lava. That last figure was knocked out and fell to the ground. That first person to get knocked to the ground was still conscious and tried to grab her by the ankle, but she shot at their face.

Once that was over, she dropped the weapon and huffed heavy breaths.

“You can come out now,” she informed. “But we should hurry back. They’re likely to send more.”

“You killed them,” my mouth was dry. I was at a loss for words.

“Not all of them. One is knocked unconscious. I would have knocked them all unconscious had I better reflexes.”

“Still…”

“I get it. Do you hate me now? Are you afraid of me?” Her voice shook, as well as the rest of her. She looked ready to break into tears.

“No, that’s not it. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think that’s what you had to deal with,” I reassured her. Yes, I was afraid, shocked, even. But if things were really so bad that she had to resort to such things, I couldn’t blame her. I just wanted to comfort her and protect her, so she wouldn’t have to, instead.

When we returned to the apartment, she put the device away.

“I don’t to have to use this again until I know it will be safe to do so,” she struggled to form the words, still shaken, herself. Possibly by her own actions.

“I had no idea,” I was stunned and about ready to break down, myself.

“Now do you believe me?” She asked.

“Yes. I believe you.”

Although the danger of the organization that pursued her is long behind her, even to this day, it affected her. That much I was aware of. We lived in peace, but to her, she wanted to hold tight to it and anything she associated with peace. It was like at any moment it would crumble in her hands and she’d have to run and hide once again.

Despite such difficulties, her insecurities, her history, our love remained strong. I wanted, no, needed her to know that it wouldn’t go away and she wasn’t this awful person she at times saw herself to be. I just hoped I could continue to get through to her.

As we ran through the fields with our hoes and tilled the soil beneath us, I turned to her and smiled.

“Whew. Hard work, huh?” I wiped my sweat-drenched forehead. “At least we’ll get some good veggies from it.”

“Yeah. It may be hard, but when it’s ripe, it makes it all the more worth it,” she smiled. It was still warm, radiant, even with all the sadness which latched onto her.

“I know it’s hard to find happiness sometimes, maybe even harder now that you’ve found a victory you never thought you’d achieve,” I told her. “But I know it’s possible. I believe so.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t need to be happy all the time. All I need is to be home, and as long as I’m with you, I’m home.”

My heart swelled. It was sappy, I knew, but I felt like bursting into tears all the same.

“Say, if we wanted, we can leave this behind. We can return to the city. Or better, we could hitchhike and travel the world. Maybe find an abandoned castle to live in. We don’t have to stay anywhere,” she laughed. “Oh, what am I saying? I wouldn’t mind wherever we are, but I know I would be too afraid to leave.”

I laughed too.

“We don’t need to go anywhere, and we don’t need to stay in the same place. Whatever we do, we can have fun, and we’ll be sure to love each other.”

You’re safe, I wanted to tell her. She knew that already, though. She must have.

#remoras full #wives #scifi #drama #writing #stories #flashbacks #this was supposed to only take one week to write #took two instead

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purpletyrant · 5 years ago

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reimagined costumes for kako and meiyui. another pair of girls i have no particularly strong feelings for, but i wanted to take a crack at them.

thoughts behind their designs (mostly meiyui) below:

for kako i have little to say. i think her costume is generally fine. it has a decent color scheme, i like her jacket, and her weapon is fine. (i thought about giving her a “page turner” as a new weapon, but designs are so varied and generic that itd be hard to tell what it even was.) the “problem” i wanted to fix was mostly her asymmetry and the busyness of her design. definitely less busy than akira, but still. i also just have a vendetta against leg asymmetry, like with ren and to a lesser extent the amane sisters. so i gave kako ribbons on BOTH her legs, then went the extra mile and gave her geta sandals.

her colors are muted because i was playing around with hues and just found that they suited her better as a meek, kinda oldschool kid. i gave her a flower crown because of my aforementioned penchant for symmetry, and i thought it would be cute and fitting. in retrospect i shouldve just made them different flowers. as they are now, i think they are just okay.

in general kakos reimagination serves a couple specific purposes, and not much else. im not in love with it, but i think it suits her.

OKAY. MEIYUI. lets address the elephant in the room. she is almost unrecognizable. and to that i say, “fair.” a more faithful and modest meiyui redesign wouldve been much easier. here, ill tell you what id do: eliminate the dumb slit skirt and replace with leggings or pants. keep the top. trash the FUCKING miku sleeves to show off her genuinely pretty cool hand armor, which is designed well and matches akira. there, the costume is already better without much work. but its still uninspired.

heres the issues i have with meiyui. lazy, unimaginative qipao thats just a stereotype of chinese dress. her colors are ALL the same, she is so uninteresting to look at, the eye is drawn nowhere. her silhouette is bland. too many frills. her weapon is honestly okay, but it doesnt really suit her, and it suits this reimagination even less. so i gave her a new one. “you also changed her hair,” you say. yes. no particular reason. i DID draw the longer braids, but found they looked stupid and erased them. i needed to keep the buns as one of two features that tell you this is still meiyui.

when i was looking up references for inspiration, my mind went a million places. traditional chinese dress, ancient chinese armor, pirate costumes, etc. eventually i struck gold when i rediscovered ching shih, a legendary chinese pirate queen who terrorized the seas. heres where i realized, “oh, i can play off of the ‘blue seas’ part of her family/wish.” so meiyui is modeled very heavily off of ching shih as a result. she wears the coat and armor heavily influenced by her and other chinese pirates of the time. for decorative flair, i gave her the belt portion of a shenyi.

because she is now pirate/sea themed, i gave her a harpoon as a weapon. a rapier or other pirate sword couldve also worked. she still has belled sleeves, so the manner in which her doppel emerges still works. actually, i think delanna would look very nice paired with this version of meiyui. they are both made up of a dark patchwork of colors.

overall, i think this gives a good portrayal of a girl who is serious, pragmatic, slow to trust, but is still seen as a reliable, trustworthy, and honest member of her community. pirates can be either robin hood figures or full on menaces to society, which i think fits well with the evolution of the blue seas family over time. theres a bit of lawlessness in her design, but also the formality and dignity of a soldier.

thats all this round folks! team nanaka has received a full makeover except for nanaka herself.... who honestly i have no issues with lol, besides maybe an overabundance in magenta. ;P

#magia record #magireco #madoka magica #pmmm #meiyui chun #kako natsume #mad artz

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europeantravel1 · 4 years ago

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10 Best Day Trips from Amsterdam

Best Day Trips from Amsterdam

Amsterdam is arguably one of the best cities to visit in the world and it is a great place to visit museums, art, coffee shops and culture — but there is much more to the Netherlands than Amsterdam. Within an hour from Amsterdam, you can visit the tulip fields, windmills, and even climb up sand dunes and lie on the beach and work on your tan! The Netherlands is a relatively small country, so you can get to Utrecht in 30 minutes or even Belgium in 1.5 hours since the country is relatively small. Even traveling from the northernmost city in the Netherlands (Groningen) to the southernmost point (Maastricht) takes roughly two hours. The Netherlands has an excellent system of public transportation that allows travelers to travel anywhere in the country. The trains generally run on time and are modern and comfortable. The Dutch railway company NS has a website on which you can get train schedules. Holland is the world capital of cycling! There are over 32,000 kilometers of bike paths stretching out in all directions, letting you cycle from one city to another with ease if you wish. For nearby cities like Haarlem and Leiden, it is possible to bike from Amsterdam Centraal in an hour to these cities. With this list of the top day trips from Amsterdam, you can get away from Amsterdam and explore the rest of the Netherlands.

Amsterdam Day Trips

In this list of day trips from Amsterdam, only places within a two-hour train ride from Amsterdam were included. It is possible to access all of these sights in one day by public transportation.

Recommended Amsterdam Day Trips

1. Haarlem

The short train ride to Haarlem makes it an ideal day trip from Amsterdam. Haarlem is often described as a smaller, more compact version of historical Amsterdam. Haarlem is less hectic than Amsterdam and offers a more authentic experience. It is essentially a suburb of Amsterdam so it is easy to get to. In fact if the hotel prices in Amsterdam are to high for you staying in Haarlem is a good alternative. Haarlem is seen as a quieter, gentler Amsterdam – which is in fact only 15 minutes away by train. Haarlem's Christmas market is quite possibly the top Christmas market in the Netherlands. The event is centered around the city’s Grote Markt (main square). On a regular Saturday, however, the square will have local stalls offering cheese, clothing, souvenirs, and more. There is a church located right near the square and a variety of bars and cafes. Throughout your stay, be sure to enjoy a boat ride along the canals, observe the authentic windmill located directly in the city, and finish the day at Jopenkerk, a church-turned-brewery. And, trust me the beer here is way better than the beer at the T'ij brewery in Amsterdam even though that one is located in a cool windmill. 2. Tulip Fields in Lisse and Keukenhorf, Netherlands

Most tourists come to the Netherlands in the springtime to view the world-famous tulip fields. Lisse is the best place to see them. Just 40 minutes by train from Amsterdam, Lisse is an easy day trip from Amsterdam. The striking colors of the flowering tulip bulbs are a typical sight in Holland during the spring. The bright red, pink and yellow colors are overwhelmingly beautiful and are a must see, or should we say, a must experience! Keukenhof is situated in Lisse, and is one of the world's largest flower gardens. The park is home to over 800 beautiful tulip and flower arrangements. There are several attractions around the gardens, including a petting zoo, art installations, restaurants, and boat trips. Tourists do tend to overcrowd this area. Therefore, it is highly recommended that you purchase fast-track tickets that include transfers. You don’t have to go to Keukenhof to see the tulips; there are plenty of tulip fields scattered all over the Lisse province that are open to the public. We suggest renting bicycles and cycling around the fields to admire them. You can also take a tulip bicycle tour with a guide to see them. 3. Zaanse Schans

The Netherlands isn’t complete without mentioning the iconic Dutch windmill and wooden clogs. The Dutch are known for their windmills, and the closest one to Amsterdam is Zaanse Schans, a town dating back to the 19th century. Looking around you at the Zaanse Schans, you will see nothing but history. Take a tour of the wooden windmills and try on traditional Dutch clogs and savour some Dutch cheese. Zaanse Schans is one of the very best places to visit in the Netherlands. The Zaanse Schans takes its name from an earthen sconce, a fortification from the Eighty Years’ War (the uprising against Spanish rule). From 1961 to 1974 old buildings from all over the Zaanstreek were relocated here from all over the Netherlands. Getting to Zaanse Schans from Amsterdam by bus can be accomplished in 30 minutes from Central Station. 4. Delft

In the Netherlands there is no shortage of adorable towns, however, Delft stands out as my favorite. Delft is best known for its pottery, especially Delftware pottery! There is even a factory here that produces Delftware. Delft is not only known for the pottery, but also for its beautiful churches, charming boutiques, and cozy cafes. Delft is a popular tourist destination in the Netherlands, famous for its historical connections with the reigning��House of Orange-Nassau, for its blue pottery, for being home to the painter Jan Vermeer, Vermeer is buried in the Old Church. Make sure you climb the clock tower for the best view in Delft. Delft is the perfect place to visit if you'd like to see beautiful Dutch architecture without the crowds that Amsterdam attracts. 5. The Hague (Den Haag) & Scheveningen Beach

The Hague is located approximately one hour train ride away from Amsterdam and is the perfect day trip destination. The city is beautifully designed and the city has a sense of calm about it, even though it is surrounded by a large amount of activity. It is a city on the western coast of the Netherlands on the North Sea. It is famous as the place where war criminals are tried but it is much more than that. Koningsdag, or King's Day, is held annually on 27 April. It is traditionally celebrated with fairs and flea markets throughout the city. On this day, the color orange predominates at a festival (which sells orange cotton candy) and has scores of informal street markets. The Hague is also home to one of the finest beaches in the Netherlands called Scheveningen Beach. This beach is one of the most popular attractions to The Hague and is particularly popular with tourists and locals alike. The white sand beach stretches for miles and includes a Ferris wheel on its pier. 6. Alkmaar Cheese Market

If you are eager to experience the world-famous cheese of the Netherlands, then you should visit Alkmaar. Alkmaar, not Gouda is the cheese capital of the Netherlands, and there are many cheese-related attractions for visitors to enjoy! Every Friday from March through September, there is a cheese market, which is particularly interesting to say the least. Alkmaar has many medieval buildings that are still intact, most notably the tall tower of the Grote of Sint-Laurenskerk, where many people from Alkmaar hold their wedding ceremony. This Dutch city is 30 minutes from Amsterdam by train and has more than just cheese. Visit the Dutch Cheese Museum or the National Beer Museum, while Belgium and Germany are more well known for beer, the beer scene in the Netherlands is very healthy. 7. Rotterdam Among the most popular cities near Amsterdam, Rotterdam is one. The reason for its popularity is that it is modern and different than any other state in the country. During World War II, the whole city was destroyed by bombs and rebuilt in a totally different style. Rotterdam is home to many fine examples of modern architecture, much of it inspired by the city's waterside setting, as well as a response to the devastation of WWII.

This unique city can be reached by a fast train in just 45 minutes. This allows plenty of time for exploration. The most popular sites here include the famous cube houses, the Markthall (market hall) and the Erasmus Bridge. Nevertheless, a leisurely stroll through the streets and a discovery of the city is much more enjoyable. 8. Utrecht

Utrecht is one of the oldest cities in the Netherlands and has a fascinating history. This city is located only 30 minutes by train from Amsterdam and is among the most popular Amsterdam day trips. While most people think of Amsterdam when they think of the Netherlands. Utrecht is the lively, beating heart of Holland, an ancient university town built around the Dom Tower. Utrecht is known for its city center with wharf cellars along the canals housing cafes and terraces by the water. Utrecht is celebrated for its canals, which run through the center of the city. In addition to the unique design, the lower section of the canals is complemented by outdoor eating areas for restaurants during the warmer months. Besides the unique canals and restaurants, Utrecht is an amazing city to stroll around and explore. Upon exploring the city, you'll find that Utrecht is full of special places. For example, you can drink the best coffee in the city in the vibrant Voorstraat, find all your groceries in the multicultural Lombok and taste and feel the city's archaeological history at Castellum 9. Leiden

Leiden is an old and historical city in the Netherlands that can be reached by train in 30 minutes from Amsterdam. It is best known for its historical significance as a university town and for its stunning old architecture dating back to the year 1575. It reminds me a lot of Leuven in Belgium or Heidelberg in Germany. It is the best place to explore museums, canals without tourists, restaurants, and coffee shops. Although Rembrandt spent much of his life in Amsterdam, he was born and raised in Leiden. In fact, he attended classes at the city’s university for some time before deciding to pursue a career as an artist. There are several tributes to Rembrandt around the city including a plaque on Weddesteeg that marks his birthplace. The Floating Christmas Market in Leiden is another favorite of Amsterdammers. This quaint market boasts more than 90 stalls that sell a variety of festive foods, warm drinks, and handcrafted items. You'll also find a floating ice rink, as well as a small stage where performances are performed round the clock. This yearly event has won multiple awards, including the “Best Christmas Market in Europe” in 2016. 10. Antwerp, Belgium

Taking a day trip from Amsterdam does not necessarily mean remaining in the Netherlands. By crossing the border into Belgium, you will arrive in Antwerp in no time at all. It may seem impossible to travel from The Netherlands to Belgium in one day, but thanks to the high-speed Thalys train it is quite doable. Antwerp is an ancient center of medieval architecture and history, completely distinct from the Netherlands. Taking this day trip will provide you with a chance to explore another country, learn about a different history, and see a beautiful city nearby. The old city center is steeped in history. You will find it in ancient building-fronts on narrow streets or in the imposing Grand-Place. The Plantin-Moretus Museum is the only museum in the world to be classified as a Unesco World Heritage site. Belgian beers are world-famous, and Antwerp is an excellent place to improve your acquaintance with them. The De Koninck Antwerp City Brewery offers an ideal introduction to the world of beer. Het Pakhuis and Antwerpse Brouw Compagnie are other breweries where you can taste authentically brewed Belgian beer. One of the top-rated beer bars in the world, the Kulminator is located in Antwerp and there are a host of other good pubs. Related Story: Amsterdam Red Light Area Bars Read the full article

#amsterdam #gouda #delft #daytrips #netherlands #holland

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cultureisdarkbeer · 5 years ago

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Book 1 of the Rooted in Friendship series

The Beginning

In the Beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was without form or shape, with darkness over the abyss and a mighty wind sweeping over the waters. Then God said: Let there be light and there was light. God saw that the light was good. God then separated the light from the darkness. God instructed Chris Carter to call the light “Scully” and the darkness “Mulder”. Wait.....What?

Mulder woke to a sharp pain in his shoulder. He lifted his head and a newspaper clipping stuck to his face. He had drifted to sleep while reading some literature on Mariette Field Air Force base. He looked at his watch which read 10:23 P.M. and rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t unusual for him to sleep in the office, in a way he preferred it. The unusual part is any sleep he was able to get at all. He glanced over at the television set that was causing his morning wood to twitch from the sounds emanating from it. There were two doctors. One receiving oral pleasure and the other giving to a voluptuous naked woman with an alien mask over her head. He smiled knowingly and got up to turn it off and head to the bathroom.

Mulder slid onto the barstool of the dimly lit tavern and tapped on the cherry wood of the bar. “Hey Fox, the usual?” asked the bartender.

“Sounds good Joe.” Being the only bar he frequented, although not often, him and the bartender had become buddies. He liked it because it was dark, walking distance from his apartment, and no one from the FBI ever came in. Mulder was not the social butterfly. He looked around to make sure his suspicions were true; that he knew no one. He was now considered a comedy routine. A freak show the other agents pointed and laughed at. If they only knew. A short-haired brunette sat down on the bar stool next to him. She was thin, with legs up to her neck.

He took a deep breath and tried conversation. “How do you like this weather we’re having?”

She seemed slightly startled but then gave him a smile once her eyes took in everything there was to behold.

“Unseasonably hot wouldn’t you say?” Mulder continued.

“I’ll say,” she returned fake fanning herself. “What brings you here?”

“I live up the street. Just got out of work.”

“What line of work lets you out at this hour?” Her tone was very seductive.

“FBI Agent.” That line always helped reel them in, he thought. That’s right honey, tall dark and mysterious.

“Interesting. Do you ever go undercover? Expose the deep seeded underbelly?”

Mulder chuckled. “Sometimes. Most of my cases have to do with the logically unsolvable and unexplained.”

“Oh, like what?” He seemed to have sparked her attention. That is until he gave her his standard line. The one that caused him to sleep alone at night.

“Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” he asked in his best spooky version of himself.

“Um. You have a badge right?” The expression on her face suddenly changed and she looked at him like he just stepped out of the UFO.

“Yeah I have a badge.”

“If you excuse me, I have to use the restroom, but it’s been really nice talking to you.” Hurriedly and with a nervous smile, she collected her purse, placed some money on the bar and left.

“Hey Missy, how’s it going?” Scully said into the bedroom phone out of Ethan’s earshot.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Mom said you had a new assignment. I want to hear all about it. What’s it like having a partner?”

“First day so he’s still up for interpretation. It looks like they sent me there more as a spy and a validator. I think they may be looking to close the department. I’ll just enjoy it while it lasts.”

“And your new partner?”

“His name is Fox Mulder. He’s very intelligent and he is definitely not into traditional theory. I think you would like him.”

“Uh huh. You didn’t say anything about the way he looks. He must be nice on the eyes.”

“Missy! Really? He’s my partner. I’m not starting that. I’ve had enough with dating the people I work with. I’m trying to start a career.”

“Uh huh. Wow. He must be really good-looking.”

“What do you want me to say? He’s cute. I’m not getting involved, so it’s irrelevant.”

“Do you know his birth date? I could run an astrology report on him.”

“No, not yet. We are flying to Oregon tomorrow, so I’ll let you know when I get back.”

“Okay, well I’m happy your first day was a good one and I’m happy the guy you’re partnered with is hot,” Melissa said, continuing to tease her. Scully could almost hear her smiling through the phone.

“I have a boyfriend that I am currently living with you know. That usually indicates a serious relationship.”

“I told you, the numbers don’t lie, you are not compatible with him.”

Her sister was exhausting. Since the day she started seeing Ethan her sister never cared for him. “Okay Miss. I’ll talk to you when I get back. Love you. Bye.”

[Post the Pilot]

Scully was facing away from Ethan, laying on her bed, staring out into space. Her mind was a million miles away. The past week was nothing she ever expected. Brought in to debunk a man’s work. A man that was clearly brilliant, although somewhat odd in his line of thinking. It was clear that the men that brought her in were hiding something. Something that Mulder was on the verge of discovering. Maybe there was something slightly shady or maybe it was normal procedures for top secret information. Whatever the case, she wondered who that creepy man was that was always skulking in the corner of the deputy director’s office smoking a cigarette.

She shifted in bed nervously. No matter what, she would continue to do her assignment as it was described to her to the best of her ability. What about her new partner? She felt comfortable with him. Like they knew each other for ages, yet they just met. They were communicating with just a look. It was something she had never done with anyone before, not to that extent. She was able to read him like a book and she couldn’t understand how. Their banter free flowing and natural. In that instance, in the rain, those split seconds she let go and believed because he wanted her to and made the connections. Around him she had courage. The connection she felt to him, a stranger, was strong. Then she flashed on a thought right from the book of Melissa - Maybe they were meant to be partners. Just as the thought crossed her mind the telephone rang giving her a slight startle. It was her new partner. Pumped as ever. Not able to sleep, certain there was a conspiracy. She wasn’t thrilled that he was calling her so late, he was obviously oblivious to proper etiquette, but part of her liked the fact that he was so accepting and trusting of her as his partner.

Mulder hung up the phone. He didn’t like her shooting down his impulsiveness. She was going to have to get used to secretive meetings in the middle of the night if she was to be his partner. He liked her though, and trusted her much sooner than he anticipated. There was something about her. He thought she reminded him a little of his sister. Not the look, but her personality. She challenged him and wasn’t afraid to push him to make him better. She was very factual, but stiff. Stiff, but warm at the same time. Inviting. Now that he met her he was glad she was assigned to him and for the first time since Diana left he was looking forward to working with someone. She obviously felt comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to strip for him. That made him smile. She looked so much better out of those stuffy suits. Oddly enough, there was no romantic attraction, which he felt was a good thing. At least that was what he told himself. He did feel a closeness to her. One that he had never felt with anyone before. Friends at first sight. He liked that too. Mulder sighed and rubbed his face. His brain was in a million different directions again and he couldn’t sit still. Pumped with adrenaline, he decided to go for a run.

@ms31x129 @babygirlmulder1018 @season4mulder @muldermakesmehorny

#xfiles fanfic #txf #mulder and scully #xfiles #txf fanfic #rooted in friendship #todayinfic #x files #txf fic

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croc-odette · 4 years ago

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i love ds9 and here are some episode premises that i wish had happened

DND EPISODE: already talked about this but a dungeons and dragons holosuite episode. jake is the overly prepared DM obviously, nog, ziyal, and alexander are players. nog’s player is clearly his idea of sisko, a lawful good paladin; ziyal plays as a cardassian rogue (played by dukat, but clearly based in personality on kira); alexander plays a mage who is kind-of worf kind-of jadzia and keeps switching between them through the game). there’s an NPC version that’s clearly also based on sisko at one point, but from jake’s point of view knowing him as his dad to compare how differently jake and nog, a cadet, see him.

as the game progresses, it becomes clear that the Big Bad is based on a combo of dukat/winn (corrupt government/religious figure). ziyal struggles with the classic DND question of ‘just because i would do this, does that mean my character would?’ except she’s realizing that her dad wouldn’t do any of the selfless things she wants her character to do. alexander keeps trying to solve shit through weird cantrips or puzzle solving instead of fighting and jake is like ‘it’s not deep it’s just a cave bat please roll initiative’. bashir and garak show up as like, the old couple from the princess bride and everyone has to be like ‘jake they’re not dating in real life this rpf shit is kind of inappropriate’ and he’s like ‘wait what? i thought they were dating’. miles is an NPC and dies. nog thinks jake’s-sisko-npc is too silly and disrespectful and jake is like ‘he’s MY dad’ and they have to take a break to argue about it and jake is like ‘your dad is cool too’. nog’s character changes to lawful good paladin rom. actually this whole game is ‘arguing about dads’ time now that i think about it, which jake is not really equipped to jump in on since he has a normal cool dad who he basically just thinks is embarrassing because he’s the ~messiah~ or some goofy bullshit. ends with them calling it a day after the final boss battle and then jake and nog privately talking about whether or not they can trust ziyal if she has to choose between ds9 and dukat, which was an ulterior motive of the game. ziyal is clearly clearly rattled by what the game made her realize and goes to see kira, who she doesn’t tell about the game but who still gives her a hug, and ziyal realizes that kira’s her hero (and like, her mom). alexander tells worf and dax about the game and dax thinks it sounds fun as hell and asks alexander if they can come next time, and worf is like ‘....... only if i can be a blood mage’. nog and jake go home and tell their dads they love them.

shit i blacked out

PRANK WAR EPISODE: escalating series of pranks starting with jadzia putting hair dye in bashir’s shampoo and ending with the space station accidentally going into a meltdown self destruct scenario. garak is torn between helping jadzia and quark, who are clearly the better pranksters, or helping julian and odo, who suck at pranks but are his lunch friends. everyone has to tell garak that he’s way too intense about ‘pranks’ which are actually just really dangerous booby traps he puts in people’s quarters. sisko ends the episode by grounding everyone; no holosuites for a month!! yes even dax

GREAT RACE EPISODE: there’s some kind of macguffin resource on a planet (a klingon escape pod with a survivor with crucial intelligence information?), but they can’t teleport directly to it. a vorta and jem h’dar team and a ds9 team beam down on opposite sides of its location and are both racing to get there first, having to macgyver together vehicles and tools on the way. lots of excellent outdoor on-location settings and comparison of the jem h’dar/vorta dynamic and the ds9 federation dynamic. ends with the jem h’dar almost winning but turning on the vorta at the last few yards, and sisko’s team beams out as the jem h’dar chant victory. no i refuse to think this is same plot as ‘the ship’ or whatever

KASIDY EPISODE: set earlier in kasidy/sisko’s relationship, kasidy agrees to go with jadzia as a third-party observer to negotiations with a nearby bajoran colony over a trade agreement with the federation. jadzia and kasidy bond over gossiping about sisko on the way, but once they get there kasidy disagrees with the starfleet’s contract during negotiations which causes tensions, and recommends that the bajorans reject it. she and jadzia get into an argument about starfleet and its ideals, and why kasidy chose to be an independent captain rather than a starfleet captain, and how that doesn’t make her lesser than starfleet captains. jadzia realizes that kasidy is right and petitions superiors for a new contract, which kasidy approves of. they go home tenser then when they left, but when sisko asks jadzia what she thinks of kasidy, she very seriously says that she has incredible compassion, intelligence, and integrity, and that she doesn’t need or want jadzia’s approval. but has it anyway

MUSICAL EPISODE: someone already outlined a great musical ep where lwaxana comes in with a betazoid cold and it makes everyone burst into song in another text post and like 100% cosigned

SHAKESPEARE EP: holosuite shenanigans; every character is suddenly stuck as someone from a different shakespeare play. garak is an enthusiastically combative beatrice, kira is cordelia, worf is hamlet, jadzia is a very amused katerina, julian is puck, miles is duncan (”i get MURDERED?”), odo is benvolio and kind of bummed he’s not romeo, etc. i actually don’t know any shakespeare play that well but i think it could be neat. julian is the only fucking person on ds9 who actually knows any of it well enough to figure out what’s going on, except for sisko who doesn’t really care for shakespeare but generally knows about the plays (maybe a good opportunity to talk about the racism in most ‘classic Earth’ pop culture that star trek tends to uphold without criticism). i don’t know shit about the 40 plays that shakespeare wrote about british kings but i could see sisko ending up in that kind of intense role and refusing to play into it, as do the rest of the characters who refuse to fulfill their respective roles and instead find another way to end the program.

KLINGON OPERA EPISODE: goodddddddd can we see some klingon opera, mac. i’ve been dying to see some klingon opera. premise is they believe that someone is assassinating ambassadors and so they tag along with a andorian ambassador who loves opera to see if they can figure out who the assassin is, however the andorian plays it down as over-worrying and that they should use it as an excuse to enjoy themselves. worf and jadzia go and have a lovey dovey time, sisko and kasidy go and have a lovey dovey time watching worf and jadzia get super into the opera together. julian is asked to go in case there’s poison used or first aid needed, and miles is like ‘the last time i went undercover i came home with trauma and someone’s cat so no thanks i hate klingon opera’ and after some increasingly overt passive aggressive implications that julian should take HIM, julian asks garak to go with him. bonus points if for some reason they are wearing the stupid tuxedos from doctor bashir i presume. a lot of loud arguing about the opera which almost gets them kicked out. at the end of the first act, one of the actors DOES try to kill the andorian but jadzia jumps in front of the phaser beam (cue worf being very concerned and annoyed that she could have gotten killed, jadzia being very smug and pleased with herself, her head in his lap, in a pose mirroring an earlier couple in the opera). julian feels like he would have noticed if he hadn’t been distracted by garak, and when it turns out the andorian ambassador has sensitive info about cardassia’s civilian government, julian accuses garak of intentionally trying to distract him to make sure the andorian actually died, which turns into a huge argument (ideally in a very opulent klingon opera house bathroom). during the argument, julian realizes that garak was trying to hint to him that something about the assassination attempt was off; he pieces together aloud that the andorian and the actor must have been in league together, to fake the andorian’s assassination so they could not be tried for profiteering by illegally selling weapons to the cardassian central control during bajoran occupation, which they are currently under investigation for. the other ambassador assasinations were planned by the andorian to cover their tracks. the andorian is arrested, as is the actor. at the ballroom afterparty, sisko and kasidy, in a good mood that everything worked out, agree to join in on traditional klingon dancing. worf and jadzia take a peaceful walk through the gardens and worf recites some really lovely klingon poetry about how sometimes it’s NOT a good day to die if someone loves you, that none of us fucking understand without looking it up. julian and garak talk on the balcony, and julian posits that garak is loyal to cardassia, but which part of it? garak answers, very close and meaningfully looking at julian, ‘like most things... it’s complicated.’

i was about to say ‘fake wedding episode’ but literally LITERALLY that was the shotgun wedding lwaxana/odo ep. i love star trek

KEIKO BOTANIST EPISODE: kira accompanies keiko to bajor to help find a medicinal plant that was thought to be wiped out during the occupation but might still exist in a remote mountain region based on local reports. a nice episode where we learn more about bajor and see how bajorans are coping and healing. over a campfire, kira thanks keiko for accepting her into their family. keiko tells kira that she was really intimidated by her when they first met, and then realized she’s one of the most loving people she knows. just a nice episode, maybe some mild nature survival conflict, but ends on a hopeful note of them finding the plant. miles beams down with the kids to have a picnic with keiko and kira, and kira’s happy to see children playing carelessly on bajor again.

JAKE AND ZIYAL EPISODE: everyone thinks jake and ziyal are dating because they’ve been hanging out. julian’s an idiot and mentions to sisko ‘must be hard, huh’ and sisko’s like ‘WHAT must be hard’ and julian’s like oh my god were we not supposed to talk to him about this. jake and ziyal aren’t dating but as soon as sisko tries to talk to jake about it jake is like ‘i’m not but actually maybe i SHOULD ask her out’ and sisko is like fuck. okay no that’s fine. this is more of a B-plot but basically give jake and ziyal age-appropriate love interests they’re both RIGHT there

#i'm really about to write fake screenplays for episodes for a tv show that ended 20 years ago #star trek blogging #THIS GOT OUT OF HAND.

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margridarnauds · 5 years ago

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XCalibur: My Review

So, it’s been a couple of weeks since XCalibur came out and, while I’m trying to sort out my own thoughts about this, I decided to do what I do best: Force everyone to read an overly long, barely coherent post.

First off: Let’s get this off the ground. The fact that we got to see this at ALL was phenomenal. This is really, really fantastic, as a step for KMusicals getting a wider western audience, and it’s something that I DESPERATELY hope that they will continue to repeat in the future. I’d have supported it if it was anything, simply because that would give a clear message that there IS an audience for this.

However...

[warning for spoilers, brief discussions of rape]

Overall Impressions: Look....it’s WILDHORN. Wildhorn and me....we go way, way back. Like, to 12 Year Old Rachel listening to Jekyll and Hyde. And the Scarlet Pimpernel. And....quite a few musicals after that. I CAN’T hate it. It’s WILDHORN + ARTHURIANA. Two of my favorite things in the world. But, that being said....this might very well be my fault, but I did find myself a little disappointed, in the sense that, listening to the cast album, I was expecting a much, much better musical than what I really got. Which was a huge order to fill, given that I’ve always considered Artus: Excalibur to be one of Wildhorn’s more problematic musicals. But, in all fairness, they DID kind of promise me more, given that they retitled the musical and said that this was the “World Premiere”™. The set is fantastic, the music is stunning, but it just felt a little hollow to me.

Sets/Costuming: I LOVED the Dark Ages aesthetic to it. The costumes really were great, Morgana’s in particular stole the show, but Guinevere, Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot gets some nice looks as well, and it all serves to give this idea of the Middle Ages (albeit HEAVILY preying on the old stereotype that it was The Dark Ages, with a very dark color palette generally being observable throughout). This also serves to make it visually very distinct from the Korean production of La Legende du Roi Arthur, given the two of them showed VERY close to one another. (2019 was just the year of the Arthurian musical.) As a Celticist....it isn’t REALLY historically accurate, it’s still fantasy, albeit more Guy Ritchie’s Arthur VS The Crystal Cave Trilogy in terms of how MUCH fantasy it utilizes. LRA (and Artus: Excalibur) took the approach of it being PURELY fantasy, there is....nothing. Historical. In there. One thing that irked me about Artus was that it, in particular, had a CHEAP feeling, like it had roughly as much thought put into it as a 80s comic book idea of Camelot that they were going to slap on the back of a cereal box or something. (LRA, to its credit, was GLORIOUSLY anachronistic, but it was high budget and sleek. I loved it for that.) XCalibur is TRYING for a more historical feel, and, for the most part, it does succeed. Whether the set is a forest, a deserted hall, or Camelot in its prime, they SELL the medievalism. It’s a bit of a pity there’s no WELSHNESS to it, but that is me being nitpicky about my field not being in there. For an Arthurian adaptation, I’m not really going to ask for anything more; it gives what it promises and it does it well. (Though I will say that, every once in a while, one of those costumes would flash in the stage lighting and I would question whether I’d seen that gold fabric at a Ren Faire etsy. BUT in all fairness, those costumes weren’t designed to be viewed in close up like that, and this is probably me being needlessly mean. OVERALL, the effect was good.)

Music: It’s a Frank Wildhorn musical, so of COURSE I’m going to like the music. This is DEFINITELY a stronger musical than Artus, with several new songs (including “The Tempest”, “Let the Sword Make the Man”, and “If he were standing here”, both of which are highlights to me) that really stand out. Since settling himself firmly in the Asian market, Wildhorn’s stuff has developed a polish that wasn’t really there in his Broadway stuff. It sounds much more modern, much more streamlined, with Death Note, the Man Who Laughs, Robespierre, and Mata Hari all having a distinct SOUND that I’ve started to call Wildhorn 2.0. There’s this distinct energy that runs through this production that wasn’t really there in Artus, and I found that it makes the cast album REALLY a treat to listen to. As with Artus, “Celtic” (which, in this case, of course, means “Riverdance”) musical motifs are present in the instrumentals, but I found it MUCH less heavy handed than before, and it’s evenly balanced out by more traditional tunes. I didn’t feel like it was AS overloaded as before, where I routinely found myself napping in between swelling instrumentals.

As with all of Wildhorn’s stuff, there are certain songs that sound very similar to other musicals of his, if you know what to look for. “Why am I here?” for example is nearly a carbon copy of “Who do you Trust?” from Tears of Heaven and “Wenn das Shicksal dich ereilt” from Rudolf, which themselves form part of a distinct genre of his songs that can be traced back to “The Riddle” from The Scarlet Pimpernel and “You and I” from Svengali. “The Mark of the Wolf”, a new song, sounds very similar at points to “How Many devils?” from The Civil War. Etc. etc. I don't really consider this a BAD part, at least in the case of the former, since the songs in that genre, to me, represent the best of Wildhorn’s music. And, after all, with over 30 years on stage....the man can only come up with new music for so long until he starts producing SOMETHING that sounds similar.

Overall verdict? Strong music. Not my FAVORITE of Wildhorn’s stuff, but I’ve definitely spent a few hours listening to the cast album on its own merits, and definitely more energetic and polished than the German run to my ear.

Plot: So, a big draw for me was “Has the plot been fixed from the days of Artus: Excalibur?” and.....I have many mixed feelings. I DO feel like we got more of a solid musical, but I also feel like it had some really, really sour notes and, in some ways, the transition to a new musical feels only half-way done. Like, they HAD a new musical in mind, they went halfway through the process, and then they shrugged their shoulders, said “That’s good enough”, and left us with a Frankenstein’s Monster. (Oh, wait, wrong KMusical.)

One of the biggest casualties was Morgana. Morgan le Fay has been one of my favorite characters in anything, ever since I was 7 years old and developing one of my first crushes via The Magic Treehouse. Morgana is always the FIRST one I look to in an adaptation to see how they handle her, and her plotline in Artus always felt weak for me, ESPECIALLY her relationship with Merlin, which Wildhorn once described as something along the lines of a “bit of a romance” but that was painfully underdeveloped, especially on her end. We knew that he was weak for her, to his detriment, we knew that she wanted what he had, and that they do.....the do together, but there’s very little REAL development in there, and no sign, on my end, of that “little bit of romance” as opposed to just. Using one another. When I heard that that plotline had been revised, I was THRILLED. Now, I feel like it was a monkey’s paw situation.

(1) Morgana goes from more or less apathetic to Merlin’s situation to.......being totally obsessed with him, to the point where she says he’s the only man she ever loved? Like, she goes from someone HIGHLY motivated by what she believes is her rightful inheritance to being motivated by Merlin’s dick.

(2) The timeline. My God, the timeline. Making Morgana a child when she’s shipped off AND then doing the “Only man I ever loved” thing (and SEEMING to imply that Merlin did love her as well, but refused to say it) is.....it’s bad. No other way around it. They did NOT think that timeline through.

(3) I HATED Guinevere getting Morgana in the back with an arrow, but you know? That was yet another monkey’s paw situation, given that at least it wasn’t “Morgana falling for a very obvious ploy that she SHOULD have seen coming from a mile away if she wasn’t, as has been established, obsessed with Merlin’s dick.”

I will say that, reworking the plot so that Morgana’s obsessed with Merlin’s dick DID work out better in the sense that at least the Madonna/Whore complex with her and Guinevere isn’t really there: We no longer see Evil, Sexy Morgana VS Sweet Forest Maiden Guinevere, and Guinevere in this version of the musical is allowed to be much gutsier than her German counterpart. They did give her quite a bit of character as opposed to “Naive Girl who believes Arthur is The Best but finds out Wrong”. Now, that gutsiness flies out the window once she marries Arthur and is mainly confined to singing sad songs and stepping in between Arthur and Lancelot, but see above for Frankenstein’s Monster.

I will say that I did appreciate that this adaptation was willing to really give us a DEEPLY flawed Arthur; it’s something I’ve seen relatively little of post-White in terms of Arthurian adaptations, and it’s something I’ve missed. (Once Upon A Time’s Evil Arthur notwithstanding.) Arthur is really rarely allowed to BE a character in his own right, he has to be an Ideal™ or, if he’s a flawed character, flawed in an acceptable, palatable way; here, he’s an angry young man who’s shoved into a position that he’s not really qualified for and has to grow into it. He shoves people away, he shouts, he trusts Morgana too blindly, and he basically causes the Guinevere/Lancelot situation on his lonesome. It’s actually a little great to see.

BUT. But. Monkey’s paw. I LIKED seeing Arthur being a little bitch on occasion, but, for better or worse, he is our main character. And, outside of his bonding scenes with Guinevere and Lancelot early on, we really....don’t get to see that many scenes where he’s LIKABLE. There are a few moments (the scene where he tries to get Morgana to dance at his coronation is ADORABLE), but the first time we’re really introduced to him, he’s in a fight, he (understandably) snaps at Merlin, decides that, hey, being king might not be so bad, is fun for a little while, and then he spends a solid chunk of the second act being a dick because his father died. I don’t really know. I feel like this is going to be one of those things that I keep rolling over in my mind, as far as whether I REALLY like HIM as a main character, or whether I like those individual moments where he’s likable.

A part of me liked that we had, instead of the two siblings fighting during “Was Will Ich Hier”, we have Morgana and Arthur bonding. That sibling bond was, in my opinion, one of the more interesting possible dynamics in the show. But, unfortunately, the resulting conflict with Merlin felt very “been there, done that.” It’s more PLAUSIBLE than in cases where, say, the Enemy of the Week poses as a little girl and suddenly the main cast, who have known one another for twenty years, are suddenly slinging accusations against one another, but it STILL felt rather forced and predictable.

I was actually really grateful that we didn’t have the Morgana/Lot relationship in this particular production--Making Morgana an actual domestic abuse victim and then killing her off NEVER sat well with me, but as a result of that, now we have this situation where we have two more or less unconnected villains: Morgana and Wulfstan, and the plot only really needed one. Wulfstan, as a character, just....isn’t interesting. He’s a more or less generic “Barbarian Warlord” type who’s pissed Arthur killed his son and creeps on Morgana. I can’t REALLY say anything more there. Their plotlines intersect in the very beginning, when they capture Morgana and she guides them to Uther’s old castle, but other than that, there’s a general disconnect between them, and there’s no real PAYOFF to that. Instead, it just feels like it makes the plot needlessly busy.

One thing I’ve noticed, with both La Legende du Roi Arthur and XCalibur, is this pressure to fit as MUCH Arthurian in as possible, and as a result, the final musicals become rather crowded, so there’s no real time for DEVELOPMENT or substance.

“Okay, we have to have the pulling from the sword here!” “Right!” “Hm, Morgana le Fay is one of the most iconic antagonists, we probably need her there.” “Saxons?” “Sure!” “Everyone’s expecting Lancelot and Guinevere, we can’t not have them in there.”

I FEEL like XCalibur is LESS bogged down than LRA with regards to that factor, since the latter also threw in Maleagant as a secondary antagonist to Morgana and the Grail quest, but I still feel like XCalibur bit off more than it could really chew. Which is a pity, because there are Arthurian plot lines that have gotten comparatively little attention in recent days that you could include instead of going the “Paint By Numbers” route.

This also really shows in how it deals with certain plot lines, which are either dropped (Wulfstan V. Morgana), or come out of nowhere. This is REALLY obvious with Lancelot/Guinevere, which is a pity because I found myself, against my own will, rooting for them more than any other pairing in the show. Lancelot goes from a cocky lady’s man to...suddenly being smitten with Guinevere.....and then suddenly, after Guinevere is sad about Arthur being a dick, the two of them are fucking. Now, it would be NATURAL, as far as “Guinevere goes to Lancelot when she feels like Arthur’s being cold to her”, but we don’t SEE that. We literally cut from her in the forest, singing a sad song, and the next time we see them, they’re postcoital. It feels like it comes out of NOWHERE. My investment in them, as a couple, is more due to the strength of the two actors involved than the actual WRITING, which thinks that because the BEDROCK for something is there (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in combat! Oh, she feels neglected!”) that that means the house is there as well (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in common....so NOW he’s totally in love with her and is never going to flirt with another woman again. Oh, Guinevere is feeling abandoned by Arthur.......so we don’t NEED to see her going to Lancelot.”) They jump from Point A to point D and the audience is left with a sense of whiplash.

Some things, like Merlin’s actions re: Igraine and Uther, as well as Morgana, are just not explored to a depth that I would really find is satisfactory. “Oh, I did all these terrible things....because of Fate!” is something that we’re REALLY supposed to pull behind, but, given the pain to everyone involved, ESPECIALLY the women (Igraine, Morgana, and Guinevere ALL suffer from Destiny™), you have to REALLY wonder if there was literally anyone else who could have done it.

...so, really. BBC Merlin. BBC Merlin.

MOVING ON FROM MY SALT...as a medievalist, I was actually relatively happy that for ONCE in an Arthurian adaptation, the conflict between Christianity and paganism (WHICH HONESTLY WASN’T EVEN THAT MUCH OF A CONFLICT IN TERMS OF THE CELTIC WORLD, BUT MOVING ON) was presented as being pro-Christian. I’ve dealt with WAY too much media, in my time, that treats, say, 8th century Catholicism in Ireland the same as 16th century Catholicism in Spain, and NO. They were VERY distinct. I am saying this as a confirmed, happy atheist. They were distinct. I do not need or want The Mists of Avalon 10.0 on my screen, no thank you.

That being said...Monkey’s Paw. Monkey’s Paw. I was NOT happy to see the conflict presented as “Christianity taking over is Destined and Good, the Old Ways™ have had their time.” There’s this rather ugly fatalism that runs through it, along with the idea that followers of the pagan tradition HAD to die for Christianity to take its place. It’s...not my favorite thing in the world. Perhaps I’m simply unpleasable in this aspect, but there has GOT to be some medium between the two. Maybe this is my Medieval Irish Bias seeping through here, given that, with what I’m used to, the druids were mentioned in law books through the 8th century. I own this. (”But Rachel,” you might say, reasonably, “This isn’t 8th century Ireland”, to which I would of course say, “BUT IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T 6TH CENTURY WALES OR CORNWALL EITHER.”) Medieval people, historically, while they didn’t REALLY have religious tolerance as we know it, didn’t always see it in stark terms of “PAGANISM IN ONE CORNER, CHRISTIANITY IN ANOTHER”: They were, as a whole, FAIRLY good at integrating aspects of both in, even when they didn’t really mean to. The entire thing is just mangled horribly.

Anyway. Celtic Studies Salt Over.

Actors/Actresses: I’ll be honest, I was expecting, primarily, Morgana, Arthur, and Lancelot to pull the plot along, mainly because they get, together, most of the primary numbers, and because, in the German, Sabrina Weckerlin essentially carried the show on her back. As it was, Kim So Hyang’s Guinevere was the one who REALLY, in my opinion, ended up carrying the show. She had a wonderful voice, strong voice, and her Guinevere was able to make a full, smooth journey between a young, bold girl to the troubled wife of a troubled king to a woman wracked with regret. I’ve seen her in a lot of things, but I don’t think I really NOTICED her until now. She did some truly phenomenal work here, I was really glad, actually, that I got to see and appreciate her Guinevere. (Though, as a Min Kyung Ah fan....I would have LOVED to have seen her Guinevere.) She had great chemistry with both of her leads, lending credibility to both relationships, more than the script itself might really give.

Kai isn’t really an actor I ever really LOOK for in a musical, I wouldn’t say that I’m a MASSIVE fan, but that’s only because I don’t actively search for his stuff. Every time I’ve seen him in something, he’s been solid, and I did very much like him in the press calls. It does seem a little unfair that he got both the press calls AND the pro-shot, but c’est la vie. I did like his Arthur, he had a steady voice to back up the role, his acting was solid. Arthur, as a character, doesn’t REALLY stick out for me, but that isn’t HIS fault so much as the script’s, really, and my pre-built in bias towards Morgana. I didn’t find him to be REALLY likable in the role, very angry and sullen, but.....well. See above for my take on Arthur’s general likability here. I do think the man did the best with what he had, though I also feel like he’s more natural in Arthur’s dorkier, more relatable moments, especially with, say, Guinevere, Morgana, and Lancelot. (Though I’m not sure if that’s because I like Arthur as a CHARACTER more there or if I’m reacting to his ACTING in the role. This is one of those times where I’d have really liked to see Do Kyum or Junsu’s take on the role, since that would help me iron out what parts are the WRITING and what are the actor, but, lacking that, I’m going to err on the side of generosity.)

Shin Young Sook....I WANTED to like her Morgana. I did. But, I’ll be blunt, even as far back as the press call, I was feeling Jang Eun Ah’s Morgana more, I was, definitely, feeling a little disappointed when the proshot cast list was announced. So, in some ways, the poor woman would have had to have done miracles to get me to REALLY warm up to her. And I didn’t really see miracles on the stage. Her voice remains reliable, she is a belter like few others on the Korean stage. I give her that. But her acting basically totally ruined the character for me. My issues with the role, as detailed in the “Plot” section, aside, I believe that the overall character COULD be salvaged, from an audience perspective, with a nuanced enough portrayal. But, when I saw this particular take on Morgana...I didn’t see MORGANA. I saw Shin Young Sook, Having Fun, instead of Morgana, as portrayed by Shin Young Sook. An actress having fun in a role can definitely be GREAT (Park Hye Na as Eva in Frankenstein is one role of hers I will cherish forever), but in this case, which required a lot of nuance to pull it off and make the villain sympathetic....it does clash when you can tell that she’s one step away from evilly cackling and releasing a final belt before running off the stage. There is a time to ham and there is a time to not, and this was one of the “not” roles. There came some point, perhaps during the song “Desire”, perhaps before it, that I actively started DREADING Morgana appearing on stage. I don’t KNOW that Jang Eun Ah would have done it better. She could have done it worse. But it is a tragedy of only having a single cast available that I will always wonder. I was disappointed here. I was really, really disappointed.

Kim Jun Hyun as Merlin was solid. It’s well known at this point that I have a soft spot for him, but for what it’s worth, on a comparative level, I feel like this role suited him much better than, say, Orléans in Marie Antoinette (where, personally, though still liking him, I found him a little too cold for my taste). He is appropriately distant and otherworldly, showing a human side and conflict as the musical continues. Is he enough to make me LIKE Merlin, as a character? Not really, given how many people suffer because of him and how little the narrative actually QUESTIONS it, but damned if he doesn’t try, and he does lend a subdued charisma to the character, to the point where I know that at least some people noticed him more than they did Arthur or Lancelot. I did think he had -40 chemistry with Shin Young Sook, but that could be because I was ALREADY attached to him and Jang Eun Ah’s chemistry in the press call, and that is not so much a failing on one actor’s side or the other’s (I want to emphasize this, because I do NOT have anything against Shin Young Sook SPECIFICALLY on this point), rather it’s something that can’t really be qualified. (And is entirely subjective, I’m sure that plenty of viewers saw NOTHING wrong.) For me, it did cause me to actively cringe at certain scenes, such as the “This is where your Arthur came from”......”seduction”.....scene.

“Lord....I actually have fewer problems saying no to this than you might think, nvmind.”

It COULD be that that’s the look of conflicting desire, but to me, personally, watching it, it rather looks like Merlin just realized that he forgot to turn the stove off at home. Which is a pity, because I was REALLY going in here expecting to like Merlin/Morgana more than the love triangle and instead found it to be very awkwardly handled. I haven’t ENTIRELY given up on it as a ship, in some abstract way that would involve another rewrite of the entire musical, but I can’t REALLY say that there’s. Anything I like about it either. And I think that if I was less stubbornly determined to find SOMETHING in it to like, I’m fairly certain I would be even more uncomfortable with it.

My final verdict: Watching this, despite some impressive visuals (though not QUITE to the same level as fellow Wildhorn musicals The Man Who Laughs, Dracula, and Mata Hari) and performances, I found myself continually wanting to go back to the cast album rather than actually WATCH the musical. Changes have been made since the German production, but I found that, while some of the changes definitely served to make a stronger musical, some of them actively weakened the show, and it's still a little too busy for its own good. I’m also not REALLY sure that the changes made really justified it being given the label World Premiere™, given the hype around it. If it was available for streaming again, would I do it? Yes, because it IS worth at least one watch and the industry NEEDS to do this more. If it was available to buy, even, for $20 or so, I would probably get it. But I’m not sure that, if it was for the~ $100 price that Toho musicals tend to sell for, I would seriously be able to say “Yes, get this”, and I’m not sure that, if an American/European tour of it was miraculously announced, I would REALLY bend over backwards to get tickets.

6/10

Tl;dr: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER?”

#xcalibur #artus: excalibur #arthuriana #excalibur crit #(For anyone who doesn't want this in the tags)#long post

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hyphypmic · 5 years ago

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HypMic: Swordmaster

Anon asked: MTC, BB, MTR and FP reaction when their used to hang out shy Girl-friend is actually Sword master, she can handle katana very well, elegantly and actually can beat the shit out of them with her seathed katana if she want too 🤔

Sure!!!

—

Ichiro

Hahah fanboy

And he definitely whips out his lightsaber, I mean authentic replica katana and asks you to teach him some moves

And you’re just laughing because the sword he’s holding is so fucking anime that you can’t keep a straight face, but you indulge him anyway

Ok fine then you have lightsaber fights because why not

Like he wasn’t expecting it at all, but he’s very very happy that he can now learn how to fight with a blade like a real assassin/warrior/samurai

Ok now he has like a fear of criticising sword fights, but he’s glad you’re there to laugh at him and teach him some of the anime moves

Jiro

Please teach me sensei

And you do really, and Jiro’s enjoying it, but he more often than naught prefers to watch and video because he finds it so cool

Basically an anime brought to life

It’s like when you watch him spray paint, there’s like a certain art with the way you perform and all that

But he definitely contain his excitement so he really goes and asks you to teach him and borrows Ichiro’s lightsaber- I mean authentic replica

And yes you have the sword fights, but Jiro is pretty shy (and kinda reckless with the sword because he’s still a kid at heart), so he settles for watching because there’s no way you’re gonna consensually put him with an actual blade (wooden swords are okay, but he still hurts himself)

Some of his spray paint art may or may not but probably and definitely inspired by you

Saburo

He learns a bit, but he also likes watching you and videoing

But he deffo goes the extra mile and edits the hell out of your videos

Like he adds special effects and all that, he also takes your pictures for a fantastic instagram

And like also analyses your fight pattern and compares it with anime/movie fights and how realistic it is

And he likes it when you teach him how to do it and the meaning of each move and where it’s intended to strike and what you need to do

Also the physics of it and all that

Samatoki

Honestly? He was surprised you haven’t pulled a sword at his face yet because of his temper

But he really finds it so cool, but now he knows you can beat him up with the sheathed katana, and he just finds that pretty cool

And really he trusts you to take care of yourself now and it’s awesome when you actually step in sometimes to defend him

And he respects you even more (like 250% from his 200%)

And he also asks you to teach him because he values learning other fighting techniques besides just lashing out with his two fists and all that

Jyuto

He would like watching you

Like you would offer to teach him, but he wouldn’t because tbh I really see him just watching and appreciating your skill

And he loves the way you handle yourself with grace and power

And the control it takes, he admires that so so so much

but he asks how to defend against such a weapon because tbh as a cop, he would probably need to know how to defend himself without having his own katana

Riou

Would ask to be taught, not only as a way of the two of you spending time together, but because he never knows what’s gonna come up and it’s great to always be prepared

And he likes how much power you hold and the silence in the art

You don’t shout when you do moves, you only make soft sounds or like a grunt of effort, and that’s it

It’s a silent fight and Riou just loves it because without any other noise, the two of you can focus

Unless of course, it gets intense and the two of you start shouting when you spar

Ramuda

He finds it so impressive

And like the cutie/dark boy he is, he asks you to teach him

And he does respond like a kid, but yo, when you fight him, he enters a different headspace

And yeah, you are better than him, but that doesn’t stop you from seeing that glint in his fucking eye and it scares you, but it also makes you push him harder

And he is glad for it

But after the sparring, he’s back to the childish pupil

Gentaro

He finds it so nice he writes poems about t

And he’s proud of your actions that value Japanese traditions and all that

And he can dress you up in all that traditional Japanese stuff and it really makes him happy

Of course he asks you to teach him, but we all know he’s not up for the physical activity, he just loves it when you tell him the stories and history and technicality behind the moves

And he finds it so beautiful and all that and it adds another layer of complexity to your personality

And yeah the two of you bond over tradition

Dice

He also demands you teach him

But at one point he always improvises and sometimes it works, most of the time it doesn’t

He’s in genuine awe about you handling a sword

He has a gambling addiction, so the two of you have bets, where you can or cannot do unrealistic anime moves

He always loses of course, but he likes seeing you do them and it makes him smile

And of course, the bets aren’t always monetary, sometimes it’s kisses or hugs or cuddles or dates hahah

Jakurai

Yo oh my god

He’s a fucking assassin??? Like of course he would love it

So he would whip out his own katana and ask you to spar with him

And like of course he has the wooden version, but he wants to also see your form with the metal blade and he really like observe

And he sees no flaws in your technique, so he asks you to like… spar with him with both metal and wooden because he trusts you not to hurt him

And you have your like training sessions and it would be so awesome and neither of you are afraid to rough each other up

Plus Jakurai would show you some of the extra techniques he leaned as an assassin and some like fanfiction-y thing would be like

He would let you trace the blade over the most sensitive parts/most vulnerable parts on his body or vice versa and trace like the veins/arteries that if pierced, you will die

But the two of you work so well together and it’s so fucking awesome

Doppo

Panics but knows you can’t hurt yourself

Actually no he keeps panicking so you decide to teach him some of the slower moves so that he has something to do to calm him down

And the drills/routines are quiet, so it’s enough to calm him down and even out his breathing

So this becomes an activity when he’s done working or if he’s a panicked boy and needs to calm down

Sometimes he does it by himself like when he’s alone and it becomes an effective coping mechanism and all that

Hifumi

Fanboys pretty hard too

And we all know he’s a huge puppy, so he’s super supportive of all you do

And is always there for your competitions and has all of the videos and all that

He also takes the best pictures of you and buys you clothes for training and for show

and he’s so proud of you you’re all over his social media and it makes you blush with attention

But he’s so hyper and looks at you with wide eyes and a big smile… it’s fucking adorable you cannot resist

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elym13 · 6 years ago

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Queen’s Gambit Chapter 5

Yes, I know it has been at least a year. Yes, I am terribly sorry. Yes, I shall try to do better, but for now I offer this humble submission. Note the rest of the story is available at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12579895/1/Queen-s-Gambit

Chapter 5

It was surprising to Elsa that the silence bothered her. After all those years, she would have thought that being alone in a room, in the inn near the Ledsham estate, would have been a relief — not a problem. But the silence grated on her nerves, as did the gloves, as did the horrible scenes that flashed through her mind when she thought of Anna. And Elsa had been sitting here alone with her thoughts for hours.

She moved to the window and pushed it open. Behind the inn was a small stand of trees that screened it from the waterfront where they had landed in the very early hours of the morning. Charlotte had secured all of the rooms here, above a small tavern, so Elsa knew she was essentially alone. Carolina and Georg — Michael and Georg she corrected herself — had gone to scout the entrances to the castle. The Comtesse was napping in the room next door.

The open window allowed the breeze to help clear the stuffy room. Cold didn’t bother her, but heat did. Elsa removed her gloves placing them on a side table. Then with her hands on bottom of the window frame she leaned out and took a deep breath of the early fall air, craning her neck for a glimpse of the castle where they hoped, only hoped, that her sister and Kristoff were being held.

This was madness. Anna could be hundreds of miles away from here. She could be hurt, in pain, brutalized. Who knew what her captors were capable of? Anna … Anna could be dead.

The wood of the window groaned as it froze. With a start Elsa pulled her hands from the sill and thrust them outside. A stream of frost and ice shot from her hands into the woods, splintering a tree in its wake. She closed her eyes and tried to control it. Think of something warm, something safe, she chided herself, but that was a difficult task.

At last, she managed to pull the magic back into herself. She shivered, and she felt the trail of a tear running down her cheek. Quickly she pulled her gloves back on and then wiped it away. She was going mad. She needed a drink.

The tavern below the rooms was small, warm, and crowded. There was a carved wooden bar that curved around from the interior doorway, and a few tables scattered around the room. Booths on the outside walls under small windows and a plain red door to the street completed the decor. Elsa felt the urge to flee back up the stairs as soon as she came down them. But she couldn’t stand to be alone anymore, and she was in no mood to try to wake the Comtesse let alone talk to her. Plus she was going to have to deal with strangers in the immediate future without the armor of being royalty. She might as well start doing that today.

Elsa took in her surroundings trying to decide where she should land. The bar was occupied by a line of men, farmers by their dress but not peasants. They wore the dress of people who worked hard but had enough money to enjoy themselves at a bar and had more than one set of clothes to wear when they went there. The booths and tables were occupied by a more mixed crowd. More men than women for sure, but some couples sat with each other enjoying food and drink. Two tables were occupied with what Elsa assumed was a local militia. They were clearly military men, most wearing swords, all in coal black jackets and pants with brilliant silver buttons closing the jackets up to their chins. There were, of course, no other single women. But fortunately there was one empty table, and it was there that Elsa sat.

“What can I get fer ya, luv?” The barmaid called as she deftly avoided the hands of the militia men.

“Wine, do you have wine?”

“Aye.” The barmaid looked Elsa up and down. “But it’s not cheap. I’ll have to open the bottle ya know.”

“Oh, I can … I mean, her Excellency the Countess de Artois has made arrangements.” Elsa decided on the Avalonian version of the title.

“I see.”

Elsa felt the bar maid’s eye pierce into her soul, or whatever place lying came from. It felt strange, insulting … humiliating Elsa thought, to have someone question your word let alone your ability to pay for what you asked for.

“I’ll have to ask him,” the bar maid gestured with her head to the stout man behind the bar, the owner. “Sure you don’t want sumthin’ else?”

“No,” Elsa answered firmly. “Wine, if you please.” She watched the woman saunter away, resisting the urge to send a chill wind up her skirt. Maybe it would warm up her soul.

“Girl, if you need someone to share your wine. Me and the boys would be happy to help.”

It took Elsa a moment to pinpoint who was speaking. But when one of the militia men winked at her, she knew she had her man.

“No, thank you.” She answered and then fixed her gaze across the room. This tavern could use a painting or two.

“We’d even pay fer it if you’d come over here.”

Elsa imagined a fine work she would call “The freezing of The Highlands” as a mural across the far wall.

“Oi, don’t be rude. We just wanna talk.”

The others chimed in, “Don’t mean no ‘arm girlie.” “Didn’t yer mother teach you manners.”

Elsa heard the scraping of a chair and then an unshaven face reeking of beer loomed in front of her.

“Shy then. Hows about we join you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Girl, you can’t drink alone. Ain’t right. Ain’t right a girlie sitting by ‘erself.”

Elsa looked away. Then to her utter surprise a hand fixed itself under her chin and pulled her back.

“Come’on luv. Don’t be that way.”

Elsa went rigid and looked him square in the eyes, furious.

“I will thank you to unhand my wife.”

Everyone at the two tables turned. Fitz took two steps closer intervening between the militia man and Elsa. “Back off, mate. We don’t want trouble.”

Elsa’s assailant moved closer to Fitz. “I ain’t yer mate, and you’re the one making trouble.”

“Please darling, go upstairs,” Fitz gestured up the stairs and gave a reassuring smile to Elsa.

“Caro - Fitz. No. You come with me.” Elsa put her hand on Fitz’s arm and squeezed.

“I can’t, dearest. But I shall be up soon.”

“Dearie, do what yer fella says. You don’t wanna be here when we teach ‘im a lesson.”

Fitz took Elsa’s hand off her arm and gently kissed her palm. “Please, go upstairs.”

“I won’t …”

“Go.” Fitz turned Elsa around and guided her to the staircase. “I shall be right up. You must trust me.”

Elsa sighed but nodded and then ran up the stairs.

*******

Fitz turned back and walked slowly to where militia men were standing. She placed her hand on the pommel of the sword at her side. “Now do we have a problem, gentlemen?”

“No boy, it’s you who is got the problem. You don’t got no manners. Don’t respect the military.” Both tables of the militia got to their feet and closed in around Fitz. “Seems you need a lesson.”

“If you ill-mannered buffoons are representative of the military here, then I don’t see why I should.” She looked around at the men surrounding her. “Cowardly as well, I see.” She poked the ringleader in his chest. “If you can’t stand up for yourself.”

“Mind your words boy. I’ll wipe the floor wid you.”

“Outside! Outside!” the man at the bar yelled. “No fighting in here.”

Fitz nodded at the owner. “Of course, my good man.” She started for the door, forcing her way through the circle of men. “Come now, if you’re so impatient to school me. If you are not a coward,” she remarked over her shoulder as she made her exit.

Once outside she looked carefully at the ground surrounding the tavern. It was dirt, packed by the near constant foot traffic. A good 20 feet was clear and hard, stone and root free, but she wouldn’t need that much. There was a set of posts set off to the right, likely for horses. Fitz carefully folded her coat and placed it atop one. She heard the raucous group coming out the door. She turned and watched them assemble.

“Do you have a second?” Fitz called. She unsheathed her sword rechecking its balance in her hand. It was far and wide the finest sword she had ever held, and it felt like an extension of her arm, a very sharp deadly extension. Steel that was said to be able to cut through other lesser swords. And a gift from her beloved. She would use it well today.

“Loike I need a second, boy.”

Fitz rolled her shoulders feeling her suspenders move and her shirt pull up from its tuck. She would not have to worry about those binding. She noted the traditional military style suspenders on her opponent, two shoulder straps coming together to one strap in the rear. His well muscled arms became apparent as he shed his heavy jacket and tossed it to one of his fellows standing near. His shirt was plain, no stock, as none was necessary with his uniform’s high collar. A collar his thick neck strained against as he brought his sword to the ready.

Fitz brought her blade up in a salute and was not the least bit surprised when the larger man rushed at her with a roar. It was a shame, she thought, she never got his name.

The larger man swung at her head clearly intending a saber cut. He was surprised when Fitz countered by merely moving her head, arm and blade in a quarter turn, interposing her sword between his and her face. Her arm moved back several inches with the force of the blow, but she did not flinch, and he could not reach her. He could not overpower her block even even he leaned in with his heavier body. She blocked his next blow, too, one to the other side of her head, simply by moving her blade, again catching his edge with the flat of her weapon. Her expression was impassive, and if she was working to keep him from reaching her she didn’t show it.

This continued for several long minutes. He tried moving more quickly, swiftly slashing from side to side. He tried varying shots from her head to her body and even one or two to her legs. As he increased his pace his blows had less force, but Fitz knew they were actually more deadly. Finally he tried a lunge at her chest. Fitz allowed his blade to run up hers, deftly deflecting it so it just passed her shoulder. She stopped him when they were hilt to hilt waited until he tried to overpower her one last time and then asked, as they were nose to nose, “Are you done with your lesson?”

When he responded with another grunt and push, she replied, “Good. Now I shall begin mine.”

Fitz pushed back with her weapon but then dropped and ducked under her opponents blade as she disengaged. She turned behind him, and she brought her blade across his back leaving a shallow cut that parted both his suspenders and shirt and left a bloody score in its wake.

The man snarled in pain and whirled. He started a flurry of attacks that Fitz parried while backing up slowly to keep him at range. Then she changed trajectory, abruptly stepping to his left. When he moved his sword to follow her, she feinted a lunge before continuing behind him bringing the tip of her sword across his left side. He swore as blood seeped onto his ruined shirt, but whirled keeping his blade between them. Fitz started a series of slashes at his face and then with a firm double beat dropped her blade. He was forced to block across his body, blade down. Fitz extended and the force of his own block drove her point across his right side. He grunted in pain, and then started a long paragraph of foul language as his pants, no longer held by his suspenders, dropped down around his boots. Fitz thanked whoever was in heaven that he was wearing drawers even if they were not especially clean.

“You bloody cow’s cunt,” the larger man swore. Tripping forward he struck out again at Fitz. This time Fitz easily blocked his blade, disengaged and then performed a backhanded thrust through his hand guard and into his wrist. His hand spasmed and he dropped his sword. Fitz pushed on his hip with her own sending him sprawling. As he went down on his back she kicked his sword aside and then put her left boot on his chest, the point of her sword right over his heart.

“This is not a bloody game,” Fitz said quietly. “It’s life and death. Right now your death.”

“Please,” the larger man begged.

“A quick death here.” Fitz poked at his chest and was rewarded with a small spot of blood that grew slowly. Then she dragged her sword down to his belly, leaving a thin line spreading red, this cut no deeper than the other superficial slashes bleeding into the dirt. “A much less quick death here. Although I will have the pleasure of imagining the pain you will be in as you die, your insides stinking and festering.”

“Please.”

“Or maybe,” Fitz’s blade dropped lower. “I just —”

“Captain Fitzwilliam! Stop that nonsense and come here instantly.” Charlotte’s voice rang out from the doorway.

Fitz sighed and brought her sword up. “You are saved by my employer’s dulcet tones. But I do hope you take your lesson from this.” Then with a nod to his fellows who were standing nearby, eyes wide, afraid to come any closer, she sheathed her sword and walked to the Comtesse.

“Your Excellency, how may I serve you.”

“You can get your arse inside before I have to take a horsewhip to you.”

“I was defending a lady’s honor.” Fitz offered her arm.

“I know what you were doing you idiot. Inside.”

Charlotte dragged Fitz inside and to the bar. Once there she dropped a small pile of gold coins in front of the tavern owner.

“I will thank you in advance for your discretion. And I would appreciate it if after these fine people finish their dinners, you might close for the night.”

“Oh, but nights my best time for business — with the drinking and all.”

Charlotte added more coins to the pile.

“How could I ever refuse a lady such as you, your Grace?”

“Good. And if you would bring dinner and two bottles — no four bottles — of your best wine upstairs to my room.”

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

“How much of a simpleton are you?” Charlotte turned on Fitz once they were in her room. “I am sure the news of a brilliant duelist who humiliated a man at the “Drunken Ox,” or whatever this hellhole is called is not going to remain a secret. We were trying to be discreet.”

“Spotted Cow,” Elsa corrected, then she turned on Fitz, “Carolina, what did you do to that man?”

“He needed a lesson both in swordplay and in how not to offend a lady.”

“But did you …”

Charlotte cut Elsa off. “And you. What in god’s earth were you doing? First you freeze the forest, and then you go unaccompanied into a bar! Women do NOT go into a bar alone unless they want that — ” Charlotte waved her hand “ — sort of attention.”

Elsa ignored the Comtesse,“I will not have you dueling in my name!”

“Do you not understand that the number of women in the world who can produce ice magically is somewhat limited?”

“Luv, I will not have wretched scum insulting you or any woman.”

“You promised not to duel.”

“In Arendelle. I will not slay your subjects, which really isn’t a problem since they do not insult you. But here this is what one does unless one is a coward.”

“For god’s sake, the two of you. Shut up!” Charlotte raised her voice as much as she felt was wise. “You,” she pointed at Fitz, “Keep that damn —

sword in your sheath until we need it. You,” now Charlotte pointed at Elsa,“Fitz does these things for some god forsaken sense of honor that she holds dear, and that she doesn’t in your kingdom is quite a measure of her love. Also please don’t freeze things.”

Fitz’s tone turned to contrition,“It was my fault, Charlotte. I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long. And she’s never been in a tavern, well one that doesn’t have her portrait on the wall.” She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Discreet,” Charlotte muttered, as she gestured for Fitz to open the door. It was a pair chamber maids knocking. They carried both the wine and their dinner, two roast chickens with potatoes and some cabbage dish. “Discreet,” she said again pouring herself a large glass of wine once the maids had left. “A discreet surveillance of the castle. Discreetly making our way into the bosom of Ledsham.” She glared at Fitz. “Georg is in his room NOT causing a fuss. So you will at least tell us what you found. Then you can go tell him dinner is served.”

Fitz took Elsa’s hand in hers and addressed the queen directly. She noted Elsa was again wearing the gloves. “It is very highly likely Anna and Kristoff are here. There are an inordinate number of guards. Two different regiments by the look of it. One being Ledsham’s own, which numbers about fifty men and two sergeants in its permanent full-time configuration and nearly one hundred with three officers at full strength. Then there is another, formed of the same blackguards who accosted you, in those black uniforms. They don’t belong to Ledsham. I don’t recognize them as any regiment from Avalon, and I know them all.”

“What?” Charlotte was surprised.

“Foreign or mercenaries, or quite probably both.” Fitz now turned to Charlotte. “That’s expensive and supports the idea that something in that castle is important enough to guard. That in turn suggests that Anna and Kristoff…” Fitz hesitated, ”That they are well enough to need guarding.”

“Thank goodness,” breathed Elsa, relief evident in her voice.

“Indeed,” agreed Charlotte.

Fitz continued, “We spent most of the day watching the front gate. It’s locked shut and under guard.”

“Not the best news, even if it supports your previous theory.” Charlotte tapped her lips with her forefinger.

“But in the morning, from quite early until almost noon, there is a lot of traffic. Food deliveries and what not. And some servants aren’t resident, so they are coming in as well. ”

“I would bet substantial sums that the guards get tired of unlocking and locking the gate. Plus there will be the confusion of two chains of command.”

“Indeed,” Fitz agreed, “Although the guard will be composed of the best men.”

“At let’s say, 7 am? Do you think the sergeant will reward his best men with an 7 am watch?”

“I would. If the mission needed my best.”

“Yes, and I note you were an excellent officer. In your opinion is that true of Ledsham’s?”

Fitz thought and then shook her head no. What she recalled included capricious orders and blatant favoritism. Of course any unit reflected it’s head. A head that in this case might well be decorating the King’s outer bailey.

“And at any rate,” Charlotte stated, “I would certainly favor my grit in a battle of wills against any non-commissioned foot-soldier.”

Fitz chuckled, “Indeed, they do not stand a chance.”

Elsa was still thinking of Anna and Kristoff. “They are alive, and we’ve found them.” She felt tears of relief welling in her eyes. Fitz pulled her close into a hug and stroked her hair. “And now we will get them back.”

A/N: Art by Comickergirl; Patronage by @grrlgeek72, who was also the fine hostess at my artistic retreat when I was able to walk, think, visit the lake, and most importantly write. Proofing by @grrlgeek72 and @thegeekogecko, but all errors are because I ignored them adn continued to write.

#frozen fanfiction #FitzElsa #myfanfic #elsa/oc

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