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realm-sweet-realm · 4 years ago

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Alice’s Christmas Adventure

Hello, @theinkedfantasy! I’m your secret Satan. I really hope you enjoy this little story about Alice’s first Christmas outside of the sketch dimension.

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When Alice first found out about Christmas, it was on the first of December, when her teacher announced that her seventh-grade class would be decorating the school for it. It seemed like an adorable little tradition to her- another human world holiday, definitely more her style than Halloween and definitely the one that humans seemed to make the biggest deal about (though, Alice had only been out of the sketch dimension for six months at the time. Who knew what the other six months of the year might hold?). Amongst the lights and tinsel that Alice found in the box of decorations, she even found some silver angels. It was as Alice was decorating that one of her classmates came up to her. It was Alanna, one of Alice’s bullies. Her two lackeys were following her as well. Alice turned away and looked for her friend- Alanna usually left her alone if she was with someone who would stand up for her.

“Hey, Alice,” Alanna said, seemingly nicely enough.

“Go away,” Alice said, focusing in on the tinsel she was hanging up.

“I just figured you wouldn’t know much about Christmas and you’d want someone to fill you in.”

Alice sighed. “Fine. Tell me about it.”

“Well, on Christmas, families get together. Has your family gotten together, yet? While you were around, I mean.”

Alice stayed quiet. It was obvious that Alanna was searching for ammo. Alice hadn’t met Henry’s family yet- they’d spent Thanksgiving with Linda’s mother, who was so senile that she’d mistaken Alice and her two brothers as two regular kids and a dog.

“I wonder how your dad is going to explain you to everyone else. I mean, what are you? You’re like a plastic doll and you were essentially born yesterday. They’re going to think that he lost his mind.”

Alice continued to decorate, ignoring them entirely- just as Linda had taught her to do.

“Whatever, let’s go,” one Alanna’s lackeys said, and they did.

Alice didn’t let herself think about it until she was back at home. Being saved from the sketch dimension was the best thing that had ever happened to Alice- there was no doubt about that- but maybe choosing to go to school had been the wrong choice. Even outside of school, Alice couldn’t do so much as go to the corner store without being stared at. School was the worst, though. In terms of learning, she had to catch up with everyone, who had been in school since kindergarten. And preteens were merciless when it came to her looks and her naivety. She’d found one friend in her drama club, but that was it. Her friend had even tried to cover up her toonishness in brown paint and make up- not that it helped to hide the massive pie-cut eyes or the jointless limbs, and not that it ended in anything but Alice leaving paint everywhere (to the mockery and delight of her classmates), but it had been a nice thought.

Alice was used to shocked stares from strangers. But the thought of Henry trying to explain her existence to his family was painful to say the least. Come to think about it, Henry had actually gone to visit his youngest child, Rosa, a few times- and had always left his three toons behind. That night over dinner, Alice asked Henry who was coming over for Christmas that year. As it turned out, not only was Henry was inviting all four of his kids over for Christmas dinner, two of them were bringing wives and young children, and one of them was bringing his girlfriend over to meet his family for the first time. Her first introduction to the family, and it would include Henry trying to explain that he’d adopted living toons made from human sacrifice rituals.

Weeks ticked on. Alice found that she really did love the Christmas season- the baking, the music, the snowy weather. But as Christmas came closer, she couldn’t ignore her worry anymore. Late one night, she caved and shook Bendy awake.

“Bendy?”

“Huh? What is it?” Bendy asked, none too impressed to be woken up.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot about how on earth Henry’s going to explain us to his family. I know that some people are open to us right away, but most aren’t, and I don’t see why Henry’s family will be any different. Remember how Linda first reacted to us? She practically had a heart attack. And if Henry’s ever mentioned us to them, he hasn’t said it. I’m scared that his sons won’t want me around their kids, and I really don’t like that we’re going to be some girl’s first impression of Henry’s family.”

Bendy slid back into bed. “Ya worry too much, Alice. For every person that doesn’t like seeing us, there’s been one that thinks we’re amazing. Just go back to bed.”

Alice pulled the covers off of him. “That isn’t a good thing! If half of Henry’s kids like us, then we’ll be at the center of some stupid argument on Christmas. And this isn’t just our first Christmas, it’s Henry’s first Christmas since he spent years of lapsed time in a time loop. I don’t want to ruin this for him, either.”

Suddenly, Bendy came alert. “Good thinkin’- I don’t wanna ruin Christmas for Henry either. But what can be done?”

“I have a plan. But it’ll probably get us in trouble.”

“Well, lucky fer you, I’m not afraid of trouble.”

Alice hugged him. “I know you aren’t.”

---

“And how long exactly do we stay out here?” Bendy asked. The three of them had snuck out their window while Henry and Linda were distracted.

“Until late. I think we should be able to sneak back in at one in the morning. The others should be on their way home by then.”

“So... we’re missing Christmas dinner over this?” Bendy sounded less than impressed. Behind them, Boris whined at the thought of it.

“There will be plenty of food leftover from it. We won’t miss out on a thing. And in the meantime, I have three weeks’ worth of allowance and we have all day to do as we please. I left mom and dad a note saying that we’d decided to spend Christmas with Jasmine. He’s definitely going to ground us, but it’ll be worth it. So, what do you want to do today, Bendy?”

Bendy smiled. All day with no supervision? He was going to teach his siblings how to live.

The three of them spent the afternoon pulling pranks on the various townfolk with items that Bendy had pulled out of his hammer space (a way of saying that he could pull things essentially out of thin air). After they got tired of that, they found a sled hill and played in the snow, building things like snow forts and snowmen and snowballs until the sun went down and the snow was too frozen to mold anymore. The temperature had dropped off, and Boris nudged at Alice, pointing in the direction of home.

“It’s not even seven, yet, Boris. Still a few hours, yet. And anyhow, it being frozen like this means that the hill is basically a slanted skating rink. Bendy, you got any sleds in your hammer space?”

“Let’s see...” Bendy began pulling out items. After bringing out a train brick, a rubber chicken, a live goat, and a banana cream pie, he found what he was looking for. “Ah ha!” he called, pulling out a sled that was big enough for two of them to use.

After a few rounds of sledding, though, it became apparent that the dropping temperature would be a problem for them. Their winter clothes were wet from their previous snowball fight, and it was chilling them to the bone.

“Do you have anything drier for us to wear, Bendy?” Alice asked, after the two of them had wiped out on the sled and gotten covered in snow.

Bendy pulled out various items from his hammer space, but none of them were wearable. “No.”

“What about money? Did you bring any money?”

“No.”

“Okay. I have twenty dollars. Let’s try and find a place that’s open, so we can go inside for a while and maybe buy something dry to wear.”

Boris tried to run down the hill to join them, but slipped and ended up gliding the rest of the way down to them on his belly.

“Hey, Boris. We’re going to look for a store, now.”

Boris cringed and shook his head, then tried to pull Alice towards home. When Alice refused to come with him, he reluctantly started heading for home without them.

“Think he’ll make it back okay?”

“For sure. He has a dog’s sense of direction.”

With that, the two set off to the downtown area. Unfortunately, nothing was open on Christmas. No lights were aglow except for the streetlights. No one was out except for a few homeless people.

“Alice? I’m tired. Can we sit down a while? I think I have an, uh, here-” Bendy dug a blanket out of hammer space. The two sat down for a while, huddled under the blanket. A homeless man, clearly intoxicated, approached them. They clung tighter to each other.

“have you kids had Christmas dinner yet?”

Their first instinct was to stay still, like scared animals. Eventually, Alice spoke up. “No.”

“They’re serving it over at the Lighthouse. You might wanna take a look. Might still have some, or at least let you warm up.”

“Are they serving it inside?”

“Yep.”

“Thank you.”

Neither of them knew what a Lighthouse was, but once Bendy saw the words, “Lighthouse Homeless Shelter” on the sign outside the building, Bendy immediately got cold feet.

“No. I’m going home. We are not eating with a bunch of bums instead of family!”

“Bendy!” Alice yelled, “That’s a really disrespectful thing to say. We don’t know how they ended up here.”

Bendy sighed. “Let me translate this to ‘nice’ for you, then: this isn’t worth it anymore! I know you don’t want to take a meal from a person who needs it- we don’t even technically need to eat. And I’m cold, and staying out at night is scary, and some of the people in there might be bad people, and I want to go home! Now are you coming with me?”

“I-” Alice took a look at her watch. It was nine at night. “I’ll be okay. It’s only a couple hours, so I might as well not quit now. And I know the way back.”

“Okay. Good luck. And Merry Christmas, Alice,” Bendy said bitterly.

The shelter was warm, at least. They’d stopped serving food a while ago, but there were still plenty of people there. Alice drew stares, of course. She always did. But the folks there were used to strange sights, and within minutes she was talking with one of the women who had found her way there, just listening to her story.

About forty minutes into this, the door opened, and Henry stepped into the shelter, Bendy by his side. Alice wasn’t sure whether to leap into his arms or hide. She knew she’d be in trouble for this eventually, but she didn’t think it would be now. She couldn’t force herself to meet his eyes.

“Alice- it’s okay. Bendy explained everything to me. Come here.”

Alice quickly said goodbye to the homeless woman and went to Henry, who scooped her up into his arms.

“You should have talked to me. I had no idea you felt the way you did. But I’m not ashamed of you. I never wanted to hide you away from my family or anyone else, and if you’d told me, I could have just sent them pictures of the three of you ahead of time. Next time something like this happens, just tell me, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“You should be,” Henry admitted, in that calming voice of his, “but let’s not worry about that tonight.”

The three of them got home, and the the toons got to meet Henry’s kids without issue. They spent a few hours talking and playing cards before they had to head back home.

The next day, Henry and Linda grounded Alice for a month and the other two toons for three weeks. Alice also came out to them about her situation at school, and they were able to give her recommendations on how to deal with it. No one ever said that parenting such special children would be easy. No one ever said that living in a world you didn’t belong in was easy. But it was certainly a blessing.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Henry Stein #Toon bendy #toon alice #boris the wolf #my fanfiction

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sickboynotes · 3 years ago

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There’s a spider that’s been sitting in the corner of the bathroom for months and months and months. I thought it was dead maybe but i saw it flex it’s leg yesterday

There was a blizzard and I went and put on my boots and flightsuit and jacket and gloves and went and sat in the snow. Wind roaring, the kind of wind and snow where you try to take a breath and all the air gets sucked out of your lungs

Everything is in that phase where it’s all yellow and dead and white and black. All the dead grasses and the asphalt and the snow

Saw a dead caterpillar on the trail. Fuzzy, black and brown. It was first thaw so really we were just wading through mud, plum had the time of her life though.

Saw a herd of deer at fort snelling at dusk, later we saw, too late- my exceptionally unobservant (and not wearing glasses at the time) but there was a big buck in the center of the trail that I didn’t register until we were maybe ten feet away from it and plum let out a tiny bark, it moved fast but it was that sort of situation where things happen very slowly, I just felt like I was looking into it’s face for a very long time before it left.

Baby bald eagle

We come back along the trail, the parent is gliding on the wind circling the water

There was a noise coming above us, I thought it was a bird but Erick thought it was a frog

Had a nightmare about the deer that we thought had chronic wasting disease but really it had been attacked by something, it was genuinely an awful sight, that wandered into our friends yard while we were sitting there

The spider in the bathroom really moved today! It bolted across the wall and tried to catch lunch in some gnat that lacked the sense to not fly by. The spider missed, anyhow.

First hailstorm of the year! I really don’t look forward to leaving, I love the sort of biblical weather that’s common here. Being a little kid and getting yelled at to come inside because tornados are dangerous and so is hail.

Saw murmurations of Starlings up near Fargo! I’ve only seen them a handful of times but this time I saw like six different groups and managed to get decent video, I showed it to my grandpa and he was unimpressed which I thought was a little funny, he’s the crybaby and the bird expert of the family.

Went and picked up some paper and saw an individual turkey standing on the traffic barrier post in the middle of downtown St. Paul, very funny just watching it sit there.

Plum (my dog) ate a piece of already chewed gum today!!! Which I really would have preferred she didn’t as it’s poisonous to her, but we called pet poison control and she’ll be fine thank god, but I can’t help but be like would you just go into the forest and start eating neon blue things? Like that’s Always gonna be poisonous to you. So why do

that?????

Went on a very long walk, the jury is most likely going to finish deliberating tomorrow. I realized I could not think at all and could clear my head so I walked out the door and speedwalked in a giant circle for two hours in the rain which is exactly what I needed I think. I found an instant photo on the ground of two people with backpacking gear on kissing.

Swarms of birds just soaring on the wind over the valley (that functions as the border between MN and WI. I felt my heart leap in jealousy over and over again each time I saw a bird complete a circle.

We went camping and saw a few herds of bison. There was a flock of geese fighting and screeching at least until 1AM, and they were still going at it when I woke up at 6. While sort of laughing at myself because I already knew the answer I texted my grandfather asking if geese were nocturnal

Was staring at the ceiling trying to think and there was a little wispy spider. I pointed him out and Erick said he’d been in that corner for months

Lots of little chunky spiders on the trail in the prairie, I haven’t ever spent significant time in western Minnesota so every time I’m there it’s really striking how western Minnesota feels like... well. The West. All hilly and yellow and endless.

Was coming down a somewhat busy road and there were a flock of turkeys crossing (or refusing, rather) to cross the road. Not really that uncommon but I haven’t seen a whole flock outside of Northeast.

The Cooperman’s said no to going out to the badlands (“you want us to go to MEDORA?!”) which. It’s a loss because that means we can’t use Sam’s rav4 but it’s fine I have other friends that want to go hang out on a cliff side or whatever the technical geological term is!!

We fell asleep and woke up to two river otters swimming back and forth ten feet in front of our tent which was... mostly just really surreal.

Also woke up at like five to a blue jay singing it’s song. And woodpeckers

Saw my grandparents for the first time in... four or five months now that we’re all fully vaxxed and I don’t remember what brought it up but we were talking about how many bison there used to be, and I brought up how passenger pigeons used to turn the sky dark and my grandfather said “Martha died in 1914 in Cincinnati”, apparently referring to the last living passenger pigeon. And then he made a joke about how he can’t remember anything important but he can remember that. I thought it was really sweet since he used to keep pigeons until my grandma developed pigeon fanciers lung.

It’s the time of year when you can see ducklings all in a line in the pond/drainage ditches off the freeway

Milo says I can take the train up to Vermont and sit in the mountains with him if I ever want to get away from the city. But ultimately, I don’t have business in Vermont, I have business in New York.

I looked up and suddenly everything was green, the trees aren’t just budding anymore. The trial really ate March and April out of everyone’s conscious here I think

Went over to my grandparents and they have every bird ever in their yard, and two albino squirrels and bees that Do Not Like my grandfather.

This is mostly like wishful thinking in regard to “nature” or really it might be a sort of anti nature but I want to go to White Sands so badly. I’ve wanted to go to the Trinity test site for a handful of years but this year is the first time it’s feasible- except they only open it to the public two days a year and none I don’t think this year because of covid. So I want to go camp in the missile range, since that’s as close as we can get to the trinity site. It’s a compulsion- a circle that I desperately want closed, but we have to go as soon as possible once school is done if I don’t want to die of dehydration in the desert.

The river is thawed and judging by the calendar it’s been thawed for a good long while. We went to a park by the river and I realized I’ve only ever lived in cities with a major river cutting through downtown. I don’t want to leave the Mississippi. Anyway, the giant sheriffs boat sitting there ruined any sort of quiet introspective moment I could have had.

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aliceslantern · 4 years ago

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Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 9

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary: On different worlds, Ienzo and Riku write each other letters.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

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Ienzo,

Sorry for the radio silence over the past few days, but things have literally been so insane I haven’t had a minute to myself to write this note. My mom is barely letting me out of her sight--not that I can blame her. She goes between being outraged to dropping everything and hugging me. She wants to know everything, and I’m trying to tell her as much as I can, but still editing the most… incriminating parts until she’s ready. You understand. Even when I was home before we never got into it.

I haven’t even really had time to enjoy being home. I’ve had to see family, friends, and they all want to know where I’ve disappeared to. People all over town, too, want to know what happened and where I went. A lot of people assumed that I’d gotten myself killed.

Including my parents. That was, and still is, the hardest thing I’ve had to accept. Starting to grieve someone and just beginning to make progress only to learn they’re alive… I feel so guilty. Now I wish I’d gone back home during Kairi’s year of sleep, even for a little while.

I’ll tell you more about what happened, but I just wanted to… start to get a status update. “Any news?” How are you? How have you been? What are you and the guys up to?

Write soon,

Riku

Dear Riku,

Thanks for your text. Of course I understand how overwhelming everything must be, and this was an unusual homecoming. I just hope it’s been more joyful than bittersweet, though I fear it’s the latter. I’m hoping this transition becomes less of a traumatic one for you. And even if it is… well. I am an impartial ear.

Correction--a somewhat impartial ear. I will yell at, and/or make fun of, anyone who gives you grief.

Do tell me about Sora and Kairi. Things must be dazzling for Sora especially--I can only imagine what sort of journey he’s gone through, and I’m probably wrong. Hopefully the three of you get to spend some time together, just relaxing and being friends. It’s the least of what you deserve.

I, on the other hand, don’t have much worth reporting. I’m continuing to work with Aeleus and Dilan on the repairs, helping Even with his various little experiments. I’m trying to figure out where I would be most helpful, but that has been somewhat difficult. I’m sure you can sympathize. It’s finally starting to get warm again here.

If I ever quit faffing about and find something worth writing about I’ll let you know…

Yours,

Ienzo

---

Ienzo,

Ha ha. For some reason I don’t believe you’ve been as lazy as you said you’ve been. Though part of me hopes you have. You deserve a little rest too.

On the topic of rest…

Right after I got your letter the puppet strings that have been keeping me awake since I got home snapped. I fell asleep on the living room couch and didn’t wake up for thirty-six hours. Mom was hysterical; she thought something was really wrong with me and took me to the doctor (which, considering how long it’s been since I’ve been home for any length of time, was my pediatrician. Awkward.). But the doctor just said what I told her, that I just needed to sleep . And sleep, and sleep… maybe it’s my turn to sleep for a year. Ha ha.

Yeah, yeah. Spare me your lectures. I’ve been so wired that even when I tried, I couldn’t sleep.

Sora and Kairi are doing as okay as they can. Of the three of us, I think Kairi’s bounced back the quickest. She’s already talking about re-enrolling in school to catch up. Considering she’s the mayor’s daughter, it made the news when she got back. She’s like a celebrity, though because she’s Kairi and she’s perfect, she’s got it under control. I mean that with no sarcasm whatsoever.

Sora…

As you can probably tell by me skirting around the subject, Sora… isn’t completely okay. Physically, he’s fine. Healthy. But it’s… between the Keyblade War, and what he experienced alone while we were all, very briefly, dead (which, remind me to tell you about that if I haven’t, because it is a trip.). He’s been ALONE for so long. I’ve never seen him so shaken, and he’s so quiet . Talk to him and he tries to be all smiles, of course, but a few of us were at the beach and instead of being all up in the middle of it like he usually is, he was sitting aside… alone. Kairi’s been trying to gently pry, but he keeps saying he’s okay. A tired act I think all of us know well by now. Honestly, I’m not sure what to do. What kind of therapist here would get what he’s gone through, anyway? The most we can do is be there, and keep on top of him, and hope he heals and processes over time. Makes me feel like a shitty best friend, but the emotional stuff was never my forte.

Sleepily yours,

Riku

---

My sleepyhead,

Hopefully by the time you get this you’re actually conscious. You had a long ordeal. Physically, emotionally, of course you’re exhausted. I hope you’re actually listening to it instead of pushing through. Been there. Done that. It is not worth it. You’re probably also still growing, believe it or not. The human male keeps growing and developing until twenty-five, and unless my knowledge of Destiny Island’s time stream is way off, you’re not exactly there yet.

I’m glad Kairi is doing well, and taking all of that in stride. If it were me I would’ve thrown in the towel long ago. I think school would be good. A taste of normalcy. You three deserve to get back to your lives… whatever that means. Or at least rest a while before finding greener pastures elsewhere.

It’s disheartening, but not surprising, that Sora feels the way he does. Like I said, I can only imagine what he might have gone through. Though I don’t like it when you say you’re a shitty friend when I watched you struggle to save your friends for a literal year. You’re too hard on yourself, Riku. Being there, after everything else you did for him, is enough. Make sure to take time for yourself too. Though if Sora’s condition deteriorates, do let me know. I’ll see if I have any sort of psychological resource which might help him more than just a standard therapist with no notion of the greater World outside. Hopefully he’ll start to feel more himself once he settles back down.

This… very brief death occurrence you were referring to intrigues me. What was all that about? Fortunately it seems to not have stuck, but regardless, I felt my heart jump into my throat when I read it.

The others have been asking after you, Ansem especially. He says to “send his regards” and I promise it’s friendlier than it sounds.

I wonder, do you have sea salt ice cream where you are? It’s the height of summer and Scrooge McDuck is out. None of my cohorts here are willing to share. It’s been war.

Craving sea salt,

Ienzo

---

To the insatiable sweet tooth--

No, as a matter of fact, we do not have that particular sea salt ice cream here. If we want it, we have to go off-world. There are other, more native flavors which you might like, like dragon fruit or star fruit. (It’s mostly fruit. Sorry, we’re islanders.)

Sora seems to be doing a little bit better. Roxas, Xion, and them came to visit, which seemed to brighten his spirits, or at least distract him. Sometimes he still stares off into the distance and he’s not quite as chatty. This is going to take a long time.

As for the death thing… well, part of why Sora disappeared was because he went back in time to save us after the dark prophecy was fulfilled and the Demon Tide killed us… apparently. Even I can’t keep it all straight in my head, and it happened to me. He changed the flow of time to save us, and “abusing” the power of waking to save Kairi was the final straw. I… don’t like thinking about it much. It makes me feel sick.

Mundane life feels weird. I do chores around the house, and I mow lawns for some pocket change. Can you imagine it? The magic would make it easy, but it also unsettles people, so I do it with a mower. I had to go to social services to get an ID and we waited in line for two. Hours. I almost went insane. But at least it no longer has the awful picture it did when I started high school.

Speaking of, mom wants me to re-enroll right away, and dad wants me to do night school and speed through a general high school degree. I’m not sure how I feel about it, honestly. Kairi and Sora are excited, and I think it’ll be good for them. Maybe I’ll take a year, or do it online, or something. Though I’m sad to say my computer literacy isn’t nearly as good as yours.

How are you feeling in the castle? It must be summer for you guys there, too, though I imagine there aren’t beaches or anything. I didn’t see any. Do you have any summer activities? Or do you just sit in the library with a moldering old paperback all day?

Gainfully employed,

Riku

---

Dear Riku,

Thank you for satisfying my curiosity about that experience. I knew time travel was a factor in Sora’s disappearance--but I didn’t think it went like that for all of you. Terrifying. Awful.

A fantastic way to start a correspondence.

To answer the question… no, there are no “beaches” in terms of ocean beaches, but when I was a boy Radiant Garden did have springs on the far edges of town, as well as public pools. I was not allowed to go to them much--Even was rather neurotic--but yes, they do exist. Did exist. The restoration committee has it on their very, very long list. The paths down to the springs probably need some maintenance.

That is to say, when not in the lab I am sweating and thinking of cooler days. Though I know this might feel borderline chilly for you. Indifference to temperature is one of the few things on my waning list of what I miss from being a Nobody.

I’m glad you have some way to fill your days… that, and the idea of you working outside appeals to me. I imagine it must bore you.

I don’t spend ALL of my days in the library. Just most of them, lately, as am still trying to get this place even the slightest bit organized. If I had the resources I’d digitize everything. It’d make life so much easier. But I am one person with one computer and there are thousands upon thousands of books here. As a boy I used to have the fantasy of reading all of them before I turned eighteen. But, alas, that has not happened, and some of the texts are too boring, or in another language, or are too fragile to be handled. I clearly had very interesting ideas of leisure.

I still have not been able to get my hands on any decent ice cream.

Unsatisfied,

Ienzo

---

Ienzo,

I wanted to talk about this earlier but I had to get things settled in terms of my room. (Long story. Not a fun story.) Would you ever consider visiting? I could come get you. My parents are okay with it. In fact, they for some reason link you with me coming home, which I guess is true. You did help us get the clue Kairi needed. Either way, you’ve already made a good impression.

(If it’s not clear, I miss you.)

I can take you to a real beach. Show you around, not that there’s a whole lot to see. A change of scenery might be nice. Sora and Kairi want to hang out, too. Sora says hi.

If you’re busy, of course, I can come to you. But I know you’ve been there a long time, and there’s not always good memory there.

No pressure. Let me know.

Riku

---

Riku,

I think you may be on the right track with a change of scenery. I’m afraid what little wit I had left me, and when I was explaining to the others I’d like to visit, it became clear very quickly that our relationship is more than surface level. For that, I’m sorry.

However… the more I think about it, the more appealing it is. Even doing nothing--with you--is better than sitting here doing nothing by myself.

That is to say I miss you too.

I can be ready whenever is most convenient. I’m sorry for making you come all this way, though.

Ienzo

---

Ienzo,

Please, the flight will give me a few hours’ of peace and quiet. It’s been great spending all this time with friends and family, but… I feel kind of suffocated sometimes. Besides, I better keep my piloting skills in tip-top shape. Sora’s mad that I’m better at it than him. What can I say, it’s one of my many natural talents. Along with gardening, apparently.

Bring light clothes; it’s HOT here. And sunscreen. I mean it.

Looking forward to seeing you, and talking to you, in person.

Yours, Riku

#give/take #ienzoku #ienzo/riku #ienzo #riku #ienzo is trans

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jemelle · 5 years ago

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these are ties that bind (3/8)

you can also find this story on ao3!

fandom: criminal minds

rating: t

(chapter) word count: 2,861

masterlist

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue.

three.

On Monday, Emily took Carrie to her first day of school. Hotch had wanted to come, but he had to take Jack to nursery. Secretly, Emily was pleased to have this moment alone with Carrie. She remembered all too well the feeling of starting a new school, getting used to a whole new set of customs and rituals.

She had called the principal yesterday and received her express assurances that Carrie would be able to start school mid-year. Her credits would transfer over, but Emily knew that wasn’t the difficult part. It was starting classes when everyone else knew each other’s names, when they had silently picked a seating chart and knew who they’d partner with for group projects.

Carrie had insisted on finding the school office by herself, although Emily had offered to come with her. She had suggested (facetiously, knowing Hotch would never tolerate it) that her FBI badge might help smooth things over, which had drawn a much-needed laugh. She had also suggested that Carrie should think about taking some honors classes, but decided to shelve the conversation when she saw the obvious flashbacks her request had caused.

They pulled up in front of the school, an imposing brick building that reminded Emily of the quintessential high school from every teen movie. Students were already streaming into the building, chattering as they went along.

Emily searched for the right words to assure Carrie that she was capable of doing this. She was sure Hotch would have made an eloquent speech, but heartfelt sentiments were never her forte. She settled for flashing Carrie a smile and a thumbs-up.

Carrie smiled back and reached across the console to hug Emily, who reciprocated with only a moment’s hesitation. Two hugs in almost as many days was new territory for Emily, who tended to receive them more on a bimonthly basis, but she had a feeling it might become the new normal.

Emily watched Carrie walk towards the school until she had disappeared through the front doors. The honks of cars behind her informed her that she was holding up the carpool line, but Emily didn’t feel even a little sorry.

By Wednesday, Emily knew the jig was up. JJ had been shooting her and Hotch strange glances all day, looking as if she was trying to resist blurting something out in front of the entire bullpen. As Emily passed by JJ’s office, she felt a hand dart out and grab her wrist. Before she could respond, Emily was pulled into the darkened office.

“What do you want?” She knew, of course, but it was better to let it play out. There was a chance, albeit minuscule, that JJ simply wanted Emily’s help in planning a surprise party for Rossi.

“Is this true?” JJ thrust the paper into Emily’s face. It was the address change form that she had just submitted. Damn. She and Hotch had been hoping the paperwork would pass to Strauss unnoticed, but they should have known JJ was never anything less than thorough.

“Yeah, it is.” She’d answered the question, technically, but they both knew that wasn’t what JJ was really asking.

“But you’re not attracted to men.” Emily had come out to JJ during one of their “girls’ nights,” while Garcia was fetching another round of drinks. JJ had been talking about some guy at the bar who she thought was cute, and Emily had felt something snap in her. She didn’t want to have to hide anymore: she knew JJ would be accepting even if she didn’t fully understand. And so Emily had blurted it out before she really knew what she was doing. JJ, to her credit, had blinked once before asking Emily if there were any girls at the bar she thought were good-looking.

“Thanks, I know.” She hadn’t meant to sound so peeved, and regretted it immediately when she saw a look of hurt flash on JJ’s face.

“I’m just looking out for you.” Some days it felt as though that was JJ’s real job, caring for the team and trying to remind them not to lose sight of the mundane life they were fighting to protect. It was mostly futile, and they all knew it.

“I know,” said Emily, smiling at JJ and reaching out to squeeze one of her hands.

JJ looked horrified as a thought came to her. “Hotch didn’t make you do this, did he?” At that, Emily nearly doubled over with laughter.

“God, no. If anything I forced his hand.” JJ looked confused, and Emily didn’t blame her. Present situation included, there were very few worlds in which Emily would voluntarily ask Hotch to move in with her.

“So, remember when you said you could see me with kids?” JJ nodded, realization beginning to dawn on her face. “Well, Hotch is currently helping me take care of Carrie and neither of our apartments was suitable for two adults, a teenager, and a very energetic toddler.”

“Does he know about…” JJ gestured vaguely at Emily. “...you?” This time, Emily didn’t bother pretending innocence.

“No,” she said. “And I don’t plan on telling him. There’s no reason for me to do so. Even if our marriage is a sham, that doesn’t mean I’m going to cheat on him.” Emily had been firm in that belief since she had hatched this scheme. Hotch was a man who took fidelity seriously, and she couldn’t do that to him, especially after Haley.

JJ clasped her other hand around Emily’s and squeezed. “Don’t get hurt, okay? And if you do, tell me so I can kick his ass into next week.”

Emily grinned. The fierceness of JJ’s love reminded her of how lucky she was to have found her place at the BAU. “Just, please, keep this between us,” she entreated JJ, before walking to Hotch’s office to inform him that they had been made.

Apparently, two year olds don’t usually attend school full-time. Emily had, but Hotch’s horrified look when she told him conveyed to her that this was yet another example of Elizabeth Prentiss’s less than superb parenting. Jack went to preschool three days a week, but the rest of them he spent with either Hotch or Haley.

On Thursday, Hotch was called away to an early morning meeting. The higher-ups were making budget cuts again, and Emily knew he and Strauss would have to fight tooth and nail just to avoid losing a member of the team. Carrie had already decided that she would prefer to take the bus to school, which left just Jack and Emily. She had the day off, courtesy of Hotch, providing no urgent cases arrived. At noon, she was supposed to drive Jack to Haley’s house, but right now they were enjoying a quiet morning together.

As she finished up her paperwork, Emily kept one eye on Jack, who was playing with his extensive dinosaur collection. She sighed when she signed the last form, relieved to be done so early. There was a new sci-fi anthology that she had been meaning to read. Emily shut her eyes, intending on resting them for a brief moment before starting her book, but opened them again when she heard movement beside her. Jack had clambered up on the couch next to her and was staring at her intently.

“Read?” he asked, gesturing at a picture book on the side table. Emily picked it up.

“I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it.” She was still getting used to living with a toddler. So far, she had managed to avert any world-ending cataclysms, but being alone with Jack was an entirely different situation. This time, there was no backup.

“Read,” he insisted, so Emily did. Jack wasn’t shy about informing Emily when she did things wrong. Apparently she read too fast and she didn’t do the voices like his Mommy did. When Emily completed the first book, saying “The End” in what she hoped was an appropriately dramatic tone of voice, Jack pointed to another one. Before she knew it, it was time to take Jack to Haley’s.

She had only met Haley a few times, but Emily harbored an intense dislike for anyone who would hurt Aaron Hotchner. They may not be the best of friends, but watching Hotch’s face fall every time Haley informed him that he would arrive in DC too late to see Jack would make any sane person sympathize. This was only compounded upon actually meeting Jack; he would stay up as late as possible if it meant he could see his father.

Emily strapped Jack into his car seat, struggling briefly with the buckles. She didn’t understand how Hotch could make it look so effortless. As soon as they left the neighborhood, she began blasting Melissa Etheridge, not caring what other people could hear. Her day off, her music.

She turned the music down as they arrived in Haley’s neighborhood. The cookie-cutter houses reminded Emily of her and Hotch’s neighborhood, but this area was much more affluent. Even with a lawyer’s salary, she would bet Hotch and Haley had taken out a large loan to afford to live here.

Haley was already standing on the front porch when they arrived. Emily checked her watch: five minutes early. Good. She looked surprised to see Emily clamber out of the car, though Hotch had already cleared it with her. Emily sent a silent prayer to whatever god was listening as the straps to Jack’s car seat came undone easily. The last thing Hotch needed was to have Emily look incompetent.

Jack refused to walk the two hundred or so feet to Haley, so Emily scooped him up and headed towards the house. When she reached the porch, Emily set him down, and he toddled over to give Haley a hug. She beamed at him, and the wrath clutching Emily’s heart loosened slightly.

“Thank you,” Haley said. Emily smiled thinly at her.

“Hotch will be by to pick him up tomorrow.” Safer to stick to business. It lessened the chance Emily would say something she’d immediately regret. She waved at Jack. “Bye, kiddo. See you soon.”

“Bye, Auntie Emily!” he chirped in response. That was new. She had just been Emily so far, or ‘mily if Jack was especially sleepy. She’d have to check with Hotch that the nickname could stay, but Emily found she quite liked it.

Jack walked through the open door, and though Haley turned to watch him, she didn’t go inside. Emily loitered on the porch, sensing their conversation wasn’t finished. She was right.

“Does he make you happy?” Haley’s voice lacked malice. Emily supposed she was curious; it must have been a long time since Hotch had made Haley happy.

She considered the question. Obviously, there was a right answer, given the pretend nature of their relationship. But as Emily thought about Hotch’s kindness towards her and Carrie, the way he was willing to risk Jack, the best thing in his life, so that Emily could have a chance to care for a child the way he did, she realized it was also the true answer.

“Yes.” Haley headed inside without a response, and Emily couldn’t tell whether she was pleased or irritated. It didn’t bother her either way.

When Emily poked her head into the living room, she saw Carrie sitting calmly on the couch. It was late and she had assumed that Carrie had already gone to bed, but apparently this was not the case. When Carrie noticed her staring, she motioned Emily to sit with her. Emily settled on the ottoman facing Carrie.

“What’s up?” she asked, feeling strangely as though she were the child in this situation, as if Carrie were the one summoning her for an intervention.

“Where’s Hotch?” A neat sidestep, and one that only served to further intrigue Emily.

“Getting ready for bed, I suspect.” Although Emily’s experience living with men was somewhat limited, Hotch took more time in the bathroom than any other man she’d met, although she respected that it meant she didn’t have to see him change.

As if summoned, Hotch emerged, freshly showered and wearing pajamas. He smelled like shaving cream, Emily reflected as he sat down next to her, and something else she couldn’t place. Although she made no move to initiate contact, Emily nevertheless felt more solid with him next to her. Whatever Carrie had to say, they could deal with it, together.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Carrie started. “For taking me in when no one else would.”

Emily reached out to clasp Carrie’s hands, squeezing them tightly, but it was Hotch who spoke, his voice clear and words familiar. “Carrie, there’s no need to thank us--”

“But you don’t need to pretend anymore.” Emily and Hotch exchanged a look, but it was not a glance between friends (or whatever they were). It was the same look they exchanged when an unsub revealed crucial information during an interrogation. What did Carrie know?

“What?” Emily had learned early how to feign innocence. It had saved her more times than she could count, from escaping the wrath of Elizabeth Prentiss to baiting a suspect to pretending to not be so fucked up when pretty girls hit on her in bars.

Carrie, however, was having none of Emily’s act. “You know what I mean. You expect me to believe that you’re married to a man who you don’t even call by his first name?”

Emily felt again like a chastened child, called out with one hand in the cookie jar. She looked to Hotch for moral support, but he looked as blindsided as she felt. When he turned to face her, she could see mounting rage in the way his body tensed, although his face remained impassive as ever. Then Emily remembered their one rule: don’t lie to Carrie.

“You got us there,” said Hotch. Emily marveled at the way he could switch from angry to personable in a moment, although the glare he first shot Emily made clear that they were going to talk later. “Was it just the names that gave us away?”

Gathering information on their tells, that was smart.

“The names were definitely a giveaway.” Carrie considered them for a moment. Mostly, though, it was the lack of touching. I can see no kissing --maybe you’re just very private people-- but you don’t even hold hands and I’ve only seen you hug once.” She gestured at them. “Even now, you’re sitting with a couple inches between you.”

Right now, Hotch would probably prefer they sat even farther away, Emily thought bitterly.

“But I’m not going to say anything, if that’s what you’re upset about.” With that level of perception and intuition, Carrie would make a grade-A profiler. Not that Emily would wish their lives on anyone.

Emily still didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded as Hotch spoke again. “Thank you for trusting us.” He checked his watch. “It’s late. Are you going to bed now?”

Callie responded affirmatively and slipped out of the room, leaving Emily and Hotch in stony silence. When Hotch spoke again, his voice contained undisguised anger. “Prentiss, what the hell was that?”

The use of her last name only stoked in her a desire to fight back. Emily might break down crying, but Prentiss wouldn’t. Prentiss wasn’t vulnerable, wouldn’t apologize.

“Don’t yell at me,” she hissed. Hotch stiffened, then softened at the look on Emily’s face.

“I’m sorry. It was out of line for me to speak like that, but what you did was also out of line. We agreed no lying to Carrie.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. Self-loathing welled inside her. How could she have ever thought she was good enough to be a parent when she couldn’t even keep a basic promise?

“Emily?” If she lifted her head there would be no denying the tears in her eyes.

“I tried to. It just… I just…” failed, she finished mentally. Couldn’t deal with the idea that what was maybe my only chance at motherhood could disappear. Although she wasn’t willing to verbalize those thoughts, she still felt she owed it to Hotch to try and explain. “I got scared. And I know you’ve heard this a lot recently, but I’m sorry.”

Hotch didn’t tell her she shouldn’t be sorry. She had messed up, and they both knew it. Now the only question was what he would do. Never trust her again, Emily supposed. Their partnership had seemed so promising, but of course she had ruined it. Outside of work, she could never do anything right.

“Next time, Emily, I just need you to tell me.” After years spent under the thumb of the Catholic Church, finding someone with a true capacity for forgiveness always surprised Emily. Hotch had surprised her again and again.

“I will, Aaron,” she said, trying out the unfamiliar name on her tongue. It still felt a little too strange, not natural enough for casual conversation, but she could work on it. “I won’t let you down.”

It was a tall order to live up to, but Emily had to try.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #queerminal minds #*mine #*fic #these are ties that bind

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honeychilialligator · 5 years ago

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The Comfort of Strangers

Gabe's POV

The first time I saw her, it was a Saturday - most likely in the middle of September, nine months ago in a public library, four blocks away from the building that I once inhabited.

Of all things to note, the initial thing that would flash was the day - always the same day. She probably wore an average sweater, and dark skinny jeans - a style I eventually noticed. And even without the glasses, I always remembered her even back then as nerdy, introverted and of course, bookish.

It was a school research that motivated me to visit such a weary place that I couldn't imagine ever stopping-over - not because I was allergic to studying (if anything, I don't mind reading books) but because the place in itself was a bore to look at. The library was Egypt's pyramid. Historical. Old. Ancient. Pick your term. There's a helpful thesaurus inside to help you in such a predicament.

Then again, the same reason has urged me to step inside the old-fashioned site. Mr. Lanburton (not sure if I spelled his name accurately), our history teacher, had loaded us a big stack of dreadful tasks to fulfill at the end of the weekend. Surprisingly so, my memory has reclaimed the thoughts of my heavy homework, to which my class was asked to recollect important historical terms of a long list of nearby places in the vicinity of our humble locale.

It was also the first time my best friend, Google, has disappointed me terribly for failing to deliver an automatic answer to my difficulties (Apparently it was not one of those "God bless the internet" days). Unfortunately our locality and its small populace were a little unfit for specific and in-depth information about what Mr. Lanburton had required.

As tempting as it was to abandon the task at hand, my grades in that semester was not as cooperative. It took me a week to recover on an illness that got me hospitalized for days and the teachers were not very considerate. The only option left for me was to take the route to the oldest public library in town and start a customary way of active research.

The heavy creak brought from the antique wooden door entrance unsurprisingly attracted too much attention in an almost-deserted library. I met her stare as she lifted her gaze - our first contact. Yet at that moment it seemed so ordinary - so unappreciated. I couldn't recall clearly what book she was reading or how she looked at me, no matter how hard I try, but I guess that's just how I will always remember her: the girl who always has her face trained on books in the old library.

At the end of the day I was happy for having the task lifted off of my shoulders three days before the original submission, and I also recalled that my parents treated me and my four-year old little sister in an expensive restaurant outside town. My mother bought me a black jacket that I remembered wearing the next day. That specific Saturday was special in ways that I could only fully realize now.

Visits to the library were followed by more when our history teacher realized how effective it was (for him) to leave advanced schoolwork for a progressive study on our next topics. More items were given that I had to reserve extra time to the library to fulfill the task every week. The second and third time I stayed in the public library, I sat three chairs away from her and maintained the same position for the week because it was nearest to the air conditioner and I was rather comfortable. The quiet girl maintained hers just the same. Each time we were near each other I was more intrigued about the novels she was reading and how she seemed to be unfazed to her dusty surroundings with a different book each time I came. By my fifth visit, I was able to comprehend a clearer assessment on her features when I snuck in a slight glance.

Evergreen - like spring. That's how I remembered her full bright eyes. It seemed enchanting now the more I think about it, as only a few people could possess such unique detail. Her cheeks are always flushed - it must have something to do with the cold atmosphere (but later, I realized she was always like that). Her slightly-curly hazel brown hair, she always secured in a careless bun. It was curiosity that compelled me to her - a teenage girl my age who would just spend most of her time reading classic novels in the stinky dinosaur-age public library instead of going shopping or doing whatever sassy teenage girls do. Does she even go to school? Is she constantly alone if she doesn't have anyone to hang-out with? Where does she live anyway? What's in these books -these novels that got her hooked in this place? Why can't she just borrow them and bring them home to read? Why here where everything is so grubby and old, I have to stop myself from sneezing when I get too close on a dictionary?

It started as a thought, which intrigued me, and then it changed into a deep curiosity that later became a sudden interest. She was not from my university, that's for sure. I would have known. I never bothered to ask because I was uncertain on her response. It was not my forte, conversing with the opposite gender. Back then I had a mental overview on how my conversation with her would be like. I just couldn't gather enough courage to start even a casual conversation.

Scanning through old textbooks, I'd sneak in a little look at her - I don't know why I did - I always felt like even through her solemn focus on the material she was reading, I've always imagined her noticing every slight glance I pass on to her. Having her around three chairs away from me every Saturday afternoon in the library eventually turned into something natural - like a schoolmate a table away from me in our usual place in the cafeteria. Without even speaking, I guess our positions were a mutual contract. Without even knowing it, my visits and these weekly tasks no longer bothered me as much as it did at first.

Finally, I devised a plan to get her attention (it didn't sound as creepy when I thought about it before). This peculiar bookworm returns the books to its shelf and leaves the place fifteen minutes less before I could finish my research homework. On a particular Saturday in October, I took notice of the exact bookshelf location she left her novel before she stepped out of the library. Coincidentally Mr. Lanburton was kind enough to lessen our burden with simple common terms to hunt and I was able to finish the task earlier than most. I took the book out of the bookshelf five minutes after she left. I tried considering asking the elderly librarian about the name of the girl (surely she knew about her only customer in ghost town's library) but for some reason I didn't pursue it.

The moment I glanced at the cover of the book I remembered thinking: "Nicholas Sparks. Well what do you know? I guess she is a romantic at heart."

"The Choice" by Nicholas Sparks.

Reading the synopsis was my last pull to borrowing the book and bringing it home. Alas, I have also read some of his passionate collections but it was my first to encounter this specific book. I started reading that night - continued and finished it the next day. It was compelling and I was hooked. I thought about how she could be feeling the same emotions that I was sensing as I read through Spark's masterpiece, and when I am overcome with extreme emotions in the climax of the plot, I remembered how I caught her wrinkle her nose as she read through all those literary pieces as if she was dismayed by the outcome, or how a trace of a smile would form on her delicate lips for a moment at the remaining pages of her novels; all the emotions rushing out of her when she reads - I realize how she understood all kinds of sentiments organized by the author or how she paints the characters out of her beautiful imagination.

For a regular guy who sees life as a featureless routine, she was remarkable.

The next Saturday, there were no tasks to accomplish, but I returned the book to the library. When I arrived, the girl was already sitting with a different (probably about another romance) book on our usual table as I had expected. I felt her eyes follow me when I returned the book that she read. After doing so, I returned to my usual chair, took a random book on her usual bookshelf and pretended to read it - hoping she would notice me again.

The bookworm cleared her throat. Twice (in the first, I was a little too overwhelmed to hear her). "Excuse me."

"Yes?" I must have smiled like a fool back then.

"Hi," she started nervously. "I just couldn't help wondering: what genre do you usually prefer? I mean if you don't mind." Wait, British accent?

The question initially confused me, but it made me more than glad to hear her talk. I answered her in way that might have ineffectually and failingly conceal my tense and awkward self. "I-I guess I'm more into Action, Sci-Fi. Those kinds of stuff." (Not really). "And probably a little romance would do." (A guy reading a romance novel? Can't you get any weirder? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid).

"I see," she spoke out the words slowly. "Action, huh? Specifically of Sylvia Day's?"

Her tone had demanded to alert me, as I saw her look curiously on the book on my hand. I quickly turned to the cover.

"Bared to You" by Sylvia Day.

Oh.

I slammed the book shut, not daring to behold a scene of its twisted plot. Funny, how I must have looked like to her: A perverted little maniac.

That's when I heard her laugh. I was unprepared for my reaction to the most potent weapon this girl had in her arsenal - a real genuine laugh that reverberated from inside her. It was too infectious for me to resist, and on an unguarded instant, I joined in.

Of course, the librarian shushed us out of it.

"I'm sorry," she blushed - adding more color to her flushed face, and apologized to the wrinkly old librarian.

"Look, I wasn't really reading it, I mean - "(What am I getting myself into?) "I was just scan- " The girl stifled a laugh. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just...just..."(Seriously dude, stop embarrassing yourself!)

"I'm Eveline," she offered, a bright and foreign (but genuine) smile on her face and an extended hand. "You are?"

A for being attentive. I just couldn't stop embarrassing myself, could I?

"Gabriel, 'Gabe' for short" I shook her soft, dainty hand. "Nice to (finally) meet you."

"Sorry if I disturbed you." Another short laugh.

"It's fine. I wasn't really reading it," I shrugged.

"I can tell," Eveline smiled - a sparkle on her emerald eyes. "I mean I noticed you were so out of it. I didn't mean to appear so despicable."

"It's okay, really. I don't usually read novels - especially this kind."

"You're usually on research and textbooks," she added gently, and I couldn't help but grin at the thought of her noticing me.

"Schoolwork," I supplied. "My history teacher keeps giving us a big load of homework every weekend."

"Ah, I see," she nodded in understanding. I waited for her to elaborate about her high school life or at least relate to me how her history teacher could be the same terror professor, but she didn't and our conversation fell short.

"Are you always hanging around here?" I probed further.

"Only on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays," Eve caught a stray hair and pushed it on her ear.

"Always on the same schedule?"

She nodded cheekily, "Yeah."

Her enigmatic stance put me in place and I decided not to push my luck on her privacy. "Cool."

I looked at my wristwatch and realized that I was late for my sister's little rehearsal, knowing I had to pick her up after. "It was really great to see you, but I'm done with my work here and I need to fetch my sister out of ballet class." As much as I still want to hang around...

"I understand."

"So, next Saturday then?" I said a little too hopefully.

"Of course," she smiled her gentle smile.

That night I lay on my cozy bed thinking about our hilarious - though a little ungainly, dialogue. Eveline. Witty, cute, and bashful Eveline. Even when I decided to shut my eyes, I could see a picture of her perky face in her natural glow and hear the sound of her symphonic laugh. Since that day, thoughts of her became a frequent visitor and Saturday wasn't just any ordinary Saturday. Like a refreshing holiday, I was looking forward to it.

On our next meeting, I wore a navy sweatshirt and khaki shorts - turning my charm on like a light switch untouched for decades. I smiled brightly even before I could enter the library, wanting to match hers and hoping she'd return it. Eveline would be inside, reading a romantic novel, and I hope my smile would greet her. She was still selecting a book when I came in; her face lit up as she mouthed "Hello."

Instead of going my way to proceed on my research, I watched her pick a book or two in the shelf before taking my own set of textbooks to copy information. As I derived coherent notes on my notebook, I clucked my tongue twice in a playful way of getting her attention. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance to my direction but I pretended to be so focused on my homework. I repeated it again, louder this time to also get the old librarian's awareness. The withered old woman looked around and turned on our table, confused at my mock innocence. She shrugged a little and went back on arranging the filthy pile of old archives. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eveline smile in amusement even without her looking at me.

I purposely sped up taking down notes for research in order to catch up on Eveline on her way home. I asked permission to accompany her and I was happy that she was fine with it. She owned an average bike for transportation and her street was 2 miles away from mine. I offered to guide her bike as a friendly gesture while we talk a little until we reached my apartment building.

"You're not as behaved as I thought you are," she teased lightly.

"You mean what I did to that librarian? Well at least she has someone to watch over. A little hobby might get her rusty old brain working a little," I winked and she laughed.

We shared jokes even though they were mostly mine. I enjoyed making her laugh and smile. I began talking about myself when we started sobering up; about my family, high school, my hunky best friend named Kevin, and my favorite sport, tennis. I casually asked her about her own share of the bargain and I was more than pleased to hear her describe a little more about herself. Financial problems had caused a temporary break for her education when her father was dropped out on his business firm. She didn't talk about her plans for the future which seemed odd when I think about how much I disclosed my desired career as an architect, but I still marveled at the way she talks about her present and how she sees her life like a ready canvass. She loved her parents dearly even if they couldn't give her siblings to take care of. Eveline had a little pet dog named Sponge, and he was her only best friend.

Little facts added to my little biography of her, and each Saturday I was determined to get closer to her as I know she was a keeper for a friend. It turned into a fantastic innocent habit. When Saturday comes, I'd still stay on my usual distance and she'd read books peacefully. I'd cluck my tongue like a little check-up call and she'd smile. We'd pretend we didn't hear anything when the librarian gets irritated, and we'd squeeze ourselves to hide a laugh. But still I was afraid of annoying her on her reading with my behavior so I'd stop and sneak glances at her instead. Overtime she started whistling, a sign that she wasn't bothered about my tongue-clucking at all. The first time she tried her 'notorious' act and the librarian glared at me accusingly, I bit my tongue so bad to conceal a hideous laughter and my stomach was aching, it was so hard to breath. On our journey home, I was able to make her play "20 questions" where we take turns in interrogations about ourselves. Each new detail was a new color to add to cluster of feathers she blooms each day.

By the time we agreed to meet up on days besides Saturday, I had nicknamed her "Eve" even when her mother calls her "Lynn". On our first "friendly" date, I took her to a little café and treated her with chocolate cake that she told me was her favorite. I bought her "Papertowns", a novel written by John Green, and she was so happy and giddy that Eve kissed me tenderly on the cheek; I wasn't able to hold a blush.

Even though I was afraid to admit it, when I was with her, it seemed it was worth doing all those normal things that normal people do.

She was amazing in ways that I couldn't describe. Eve could make simple seem complex. Everything about her had a deeper sense of sentimental value. There are certain ways only she can do that could make me immeasurably happy.

Eve had suggested I meet up with her on a night of meteor showers last December. It had been my dream rendezvous. As we sat there stargazing, I had took the book that we both loved from my sling bag, "The Choice" and read a little excerpt of Nicholas Sparks, one that I intended with meaning.

"It was inevitable for people to try to create a sense of normalcy in a place where nothing was normal. It helped one get through the day, to add predictability to a life that was inherently unpredictable."

She had listened with her eyes closed, lying on the evergreen grass that sent a neon glow to her emerald eyes.

"You've been quoting my books," Eve grinned, after a long moment of observing the distant, twinkling stars.

"Sadly, you've miraculously turned me into a bookworm like you," I sighed melodramatically.

"Well I never forced you to read them," she smiled.

"But there was no other way of getting your attention," I pouted, playfully.

"There was, you're just too dumb to try it," Eve laughed.

"Name one."

"I don't know, how about just a casual 'hi!'" she muttered sarcastically and I rolled my eyes. "You could also have tried asking me what I was reading. Did I appear that stiff to you?"

"To be honest, yeah" I said teasingly.

"Dud!"

"Nerd!"

Tickle fights are the usual aftermath of our casual bullying. How we managed to get that close so fast? I have no idea.

So yeah, we rolled off our butts in the prickly grass like it was no one's business. And after we finished laughing like hyenas and sobered up, we just lied there peacefully under the stars.

"Well I'm glad you did it," she suddenly brought up.

"Did what?"

"Read the book I mean," Eve chuckled.

"How come?" I arched an eyebrow.

"I guess there was no better way to get me to trust you." (She was serious, by the way.)

"Yeah, right" I smiled. "Starting a book club, eh?"

"You're my first member," she joked and we both laughed.

"You've put me in a lot of effort for just a simple conversation," I whispered.

"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy, remember that," she quoted a memorized sentence from the book that started it all.

It was her own happiness that did the trick: in her brilliant smile, in her adorable pout, or in the way she smudges ice cream all over her mouth, or how she falls asleep with her lips slightly apart, or how she seems so vulnerable and honest and kind that it would be a difficulty to stop the urge to wrap her in your arms and protect her. She was heavenly, but earthly in that amazingly complicated way.

Yes, indeed. I, Gabriel Felix, a plain average teenage boy who couldn't appear normal and comfortable with teenage girls, was falling in love with a bookworm. At that time when I came to terms with my little crush, I surrendered and didn't fight back. I didn't have anything to lose except for our strong bond and resilient friendship (that I couldn't imagine ever giving up). But knowing Eve, I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure out about what I really felt. Being in love, I comprehended, was not about being concerned if she could ever accept your feelings and affections. It's more engrossed on ensuring the happiness of your loved one above yours, even if that took you out of the equation.

Every time I have these insecurities in my mind when I think about confessing, I replay all the moments we spend together inside or outside the library. The way she smiled made me feel like it was mutual, and I know I had to try; Eve was worth it.

So I decided to express my intense emotions towards her on our next meeting next Saturday, in the place where it all began - our sanctuary.

That morning I put on my favorite black jacket, and styled my raven black hair with gel. In the bathroom while having my shower, there was nothing else in my mind but on what to say and how to express it without her running out the door. I was nervous even though I've made up my mind.

I read through my lines and my cheesy quotes (obviously it's from the same book), knowing she'd appreciate it. I slipped further into my own fantasies, understanding that there was a big chance of rejection, but all I cared about was being close to her, keeping her. I wanted so badly to keep her.

By then I knew, the moment I stepped inside the public library - as I saw her empty chair, that a love like this was too good to be true.

When I arrived at her address, I asked around for her and she wasn't home - none of her family was. None of her neighbors knew where they went. I went to random places - anywhere where hope could blossom. I tried the café, Borders (her favorite bookstore), the central park, but I was chasing fiction.

I never felt more drained in my entire life the moment I reached home. I attempted to call her number but only voice message replied.

Days passed, and Eveline still remained as a haunting mystery. I didn't break my visits to the library even though it was already summer vacation - hoping she'd show up with her dazzling smile on a sweater shirt and black jeans and explain how she disappeared and I'd forgive her, then she'd reassure me that she'd stay.

I've had my heart broken by love songs and I've had my own share of repetitive and agonizing travels to memory lane. Theories crossed my mind but it was worthless when there is no evidence to support them. Five times - I think - did I visit her house, only to find it empty once again.

"Do you ever do this, you think back on all the times you've had with someone and you just replay it in your head over and over again and you look for those first signs of trouble?"

Why, Nicholas, are you a psychic?

Months passed; each day was a struggle on moving on - on filling this void in my chest whenever I see her empty chair on lonely Saturdays.

My own copy of "The Choice" had been repeatedly thrown off the wall but I still had no perfect reason to hate her - even more in forgetting her. And in doing so, I've shunned myself in taking chances in romance. The harder I wanted to forget the more I kept remembering.

"But things change. People change. Change was one of the inevitable laws of nature, exacting its toll on people's lives. Mistakes are made, regrets form, and all that was left were repercussions that made something as simple as rising from the bed seem almost laborious."

I was able to memorize this stupid passage from that stupid book the day I had given up in waiting for Eve to come back. It seemed pitiful, but there were things you couldn't prevent from spilling. But then maybe I deserved this much for being too attached and for trusting too much on our "mutual" contract.

Unfortunately again for me, I didn't also deserve a "goodbye".

Time did its magic - no matter how slow. I've tried smiling again, and I went back on track with my priorities. On my next semester, I did better and passed every subject. I've tried playing sports like football and I was busier every day.

But still life has a way of proving you wrong. Three days ago, another research came up that needed public library help. The thought brought back unwanted memories that I've tried so hard to ignore but it can't be helped. At the same time, I dared myself to go through this like a test - to prove myself that I've really moved on.

So yesterday I took a step inside the ancient place, purposely in the same time that I practiced my past routine. The librarian regarded me with a look, as she bent down her spectacles to observe me. I tossed her a smile as if we were old acquaintances and I wasn't sure if she could still remember me in the way she returned my friendly greeting.

I took the same old World History textbook, and sat on my old place. Turning the pages, I was suddenly aware of the seat three chairs away from mine. I felt a familiar ache in my heart as I took down notes.

This was too much, I shouldn't have done this.

The price of going back through everything was not worth the pain. I closed the textbook wearily and decided to leave at once, when I heard it.

A whistle.

As if it was a sound of a bullet piercing through my ear, I turned around, perplexed and slightly hopeful.

The librarian was looking at me, her hand on her mouth and a smile on her pale and bony face.

"Made you turn," and she laughed (although it sounded more like a witch's cackle) "I knew that would do the trick." She motioned me towards her, and as the confused bloke as I was, I complied (It's not like she's harmful anyway).

"Your girlfriend," the librarian muttered. "She came here a week ago."

"She's not my girl - Say what?" I think my heart just did a somersault.

"Between you and me, who do you think is supposed to be deaf?" the old woman laughed, betraying her age. "She left something - inserted it on this book," she took "The Choice" (the book that I borrowed) out from the drawer. "You teenagers seriously need to remember that a library is not meant for -"

"Did she say anything?" I cut her off impatiently, taking the book from her wrinkled hand.

The now-annoyed librarian shook her head no.

I removed the little piece of paper from the pages of the book and read the note.

You probably didn't expect an apology from me after I left you alone without any explanation. You didn't deserve it and there is nothing I could say worthy of your forgiveness. You can crumple this paper or forget me - I'd accept all of it. But even after everything that I did to you, it would be such a shame to say that I did it all intentionally.

But here is my explanation: I was dying. My cancer was spreading and an operation could only result to a fast demise or a little chance of survival. From the start I meant to keep this from you - after all, who would have thought that a stranger like you would mean so much to me.

Everyday I wither in the pity of those around me, when all I really want is to do more than just breathe - I want to live. That's why I read lives that have happy endings, something I thought I was never granted to have. It was a torture I designed for myself. At that time all I really thought about was that since this cancer started controlling my life, all I am allowed to feel was pain.

I noticed you long before you borrowed the book. In all honesty, I was just as nervous to talk to you as you mentioned to me. I thought it was a game, really, on who can approach who first. And I lost when you did the irresistible: taking an erotic novel and pretending to read it with an expressionless innocent face. That little encounter started all the hilarious jokes and the little dates. There was nothing wrong about your questions and little interviews but forgive me if I am so reserved (Yes, the reason why I didn't choose to finish school was because of my condition). You'd never think of me as the same bookworm in the library if I told you all of my secrets - specifically about Leukemia.

But we started to hang-out and I let it all happen. There was nothing more refreshing than taking your guard off and having fun. I don't know what made me trust you- maybe it was because you don't look at me with pity, or the way you made me feel safe or that you built up some hope in me. You were a constant reminder of who I can't and never have. But you were there, three chairs away from me, so close yet so far. Ever since I started getting to know you, all I wanted was to close the distance.

So I made a gamble with myself, to give this one last chance, if that meant I'd have an opportunity to have a future with you, even if all we will ever end up is friends. And I accepted the operation, provided with the risks. I couldn't explain everything to you before I'd undergo operation. What's the point of worrying you over something you can't control especially if I'd just end up dead?

God answered my prayers, and I was saved. I got my second chance and all I want to do is spend it with you. But that's your choice. I'll be right here waiting where the heaven's cried.

Love,

Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy. I know Eve.

I know.

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iheartsupergirl · 7 years ago

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Supergirl Season 3 Re-watch

I missed Supergirl so much over the long hiatus, that I’ve decided to go back and re-watch Season 3 up to this point. I will post recaps and reviews of these episodes when I can. I will be re-watching some of these for the first time since they aired so it will be interesting to see if my thoughts on them have changed.

Season 3, Episode 1: Girl of Steel. Kara tries to close herself off from her pain, Supergirl fights a submarine, Lena has a new rival, and Maggie and Alex face wedding planning in the season 3 premier.

This re-watch occurred between episodes 3x14 and 3x15.

This episode opens with Kara in a white dress on a dreamy alien planet. (I am not sure I noticed that ringed planet in the sky last time) Kara sees Mon-El and gives him some smooches, and even gets to give her mom a hug. Kara, however, is just daydreaming (or maybe having a vision?) and is in fact hovering over National City. As she comes back to reality, she can hear all the traffic, and conversations, and crime happening below. She quickly zeroes in on a police chase. Maggie and Alex are chasing after a big truck and quickly end up in a gun fight. The truck driver manages to trap Maggie’s car against the truck’s back bumper. A large, imposing man opens the back door and almost kills Alex and Maggie with a big Gatling gun thing, but Supergirl shows up in the nick of time. The bad guy (Bloodsport, it turns out) tries to fight Supergirl with some kind of electrified baton but has no success. Supergirl backhands him and sends him crashing into a distant car. He escapes while Kara stops the runaway truck from killing some civilians.

Back at the DEO, Kara has Winn swab some of the bad guy’s blood off her hand to test for DNA. Alex, J’onn, and Winn all feel like this was a big win for Team Supergirl, but Kara seems gloomy and detached. Alex tries to cheer her up by inviting her to taste test unlimited wedding appetizers (including potstickers!), but Kara does not seem that interested. As Kara leaves, Winn, Alex, and J’onn wonder out loud about how long she’s going to be so sad and self-serious. J’onn stresses that they need to be patient. This leads to some teasing of Alex for being serious all the time.

In a corporate boardroom, a jerk in a suit with a weird face and a bad haircut is talking about capitalism and how capitalists like him have rebuilt the city after the Daxamite invasion. This is Morgan Edge, and he’s in a big meeting with a guy who’s apparently the Mayor, James and Lena, and a bunch of other people who never say anything. James and Lena think Supergirl deserves most of the credit for the rebuild. The Mayor seems pleased with both Edge and Supergirl. He is excited to unveil the new Supergirl statue down by the waterfront. This leads to a discussion of Edge’s plan to completely rebuild and redevelop the waterfront neighborhood. James and Lena are clearly against it, saying his plan would force people from their homes. Edge complains about Catco’s biased coverage of his plan and talks about improving the city’s tax base. Lena and Edge for all intents and purposes flip each other off as the meeting ends. Sidenote: Katie McGrath’s American accent has its ups and downs, but it’s particularly bad in this scene. Maybe they had just returned from hiatus? I like Katie McGrath a lot, but I also wish they would include a backstory that Lena went to boarding school in the UK for many of her teenage years.

At Catco HQ, we get a glimpse of Cat Grant performing her duties as President Marston’s Press Secretary. I am not sure if the writers realize that Press Secretary is not really a very good job for someone of Cat’s age and experience. It’s more likely she would be Secretary of Commerce or something, but whatever. James holds a staff meeting and learns that there’s not much going on in terms of news. Metropolis’s baseball team is terrible (does National City have a team?), and crime is way, way down because Supergirl has been catching so many criminals. James asks Kara how her exclusive interview with Supergirl is coming along. Kara is a bit terse and says that Supergirl has been too busy. As the meeting breaks up, James pulls Kara aside to see how she’s doing. Not that well, clearly, because she rebuffs James’ offer to catch up over a drink. James says he realizes how much Supergirl has been doing for the city, and Kara tellingly says, “well, that’s my job.” They then see on one of the TV’s behind James’ desk that Morgan Edge is planning on buying Catco.

Kara drops by L-Corp to see Lena. They both are worried by Edge’s attempt to buy Catco. Kara encourages Lena to try to talk to Edge and convince him not to pursue the buyout. As Kara gets up to leave, Lena tells Kara that she misses her. Lena keeps trying to make plans to hang out, and Kara keeps bailing. Kara says she’s simply been busy. Lena also apologizes for the role she played in what happened to Mon-El. Kara reminds her that it was ultimately Supergirl’s call and leaves.

The whole gang minus Kara are having drinks at the alien bar and worrying about Kara. Alex frets that she’s not sure how much longer she can give Kara her space. J’onn urges patience and says they can’t put a clock on grief. Alex leaves the table and heads over to the jukebox. Maggie follows to see what’s wrong. Alex says she really misses her sister. Maggie tries to cheer her up by reminding her of the appetizer tasting, but it becomes clear that Alex is not really excited about it. Alex insists she’s not “down on the wedding,” but Maggie becomes frustrated and leaves. Winn runs up and says they’ve figured out who the “Merk” is (Merc? Merck? What’s a Merk?)

Alex, J’onn, and Winn meet up with Supergirl at the DEO and everyone is still using the word Merck for some reason. The Merck in this case is Robert Dubois, aka Bloodsport, who we met earlier in the episode. He’s ex-military and he conveniently used to be stationed at Fort Harrison just outside of the city. Winn realizes that the base’s server is down, which must mean there’s trouble at the base. Kara grimly says, “I got this,” and flies off.

At the base, Supergirl finds incapacitated soldiers and a lead-lined mystery warehouse. Supergirl goes inside to investigate and we see some kind of computer targeting system zeroing in on Supergirl. Kara gets blasted by a laser and is sent flying across the room. Further laser blasts wound two soldiers as well. Supergirl ducks under the next shot and uses her heat vision to disable the cloaking device of what turns out to be a Daxamite ship. Bloodsport escapes while Kara tends to the wounded soldiers. She then hears James’s signal watch going off.

Supergirl lands on the balcony of James’ office and does a funny quick change into her civilian clothes. Kara clearly expects to find some kind of emergency, but James is just standing there looking grim. She failed to turn in her Supergirl interview. James thinks this is important, but Kara is furious that he would use to signal watch for something like this. James reminds her that he is her boss, and that Kara Danvers has a job. Kara states that being Supergirl is her job and it’s keeping her very busy. James tries to reason with her, but Kara announces that she’s quitting Catco and leaves.

At the DEO, J’onn is yelling at our old friend General Lane on the phone about the Army keeping an alien ship, “alien artifacts are the DEO’s purview!” Winn reveals that what Bloodsport stole from the military supplier was a high-pressure regulator. There is then some comic book science talk about he could combine this with the Daxamite cloaking device to make a plane invisible.

Lena goes to Lena’s office to try to talk Morgan Edge out of buying Catco, but he’s pretty open about the fact he is doing it so he can defame Lena in the press. Lena calls him despicable and leaves. Edge then goes and pours himself a big ol’ scotch cause he’s a bad guy. Bloodsport saunters in and says the plan is ready to go, “They’ll literally never see it coming.” Cause, you see, the cloaking device or whatever.

At her apartment, Kara is working on her laptop. Maybe on KaraDanvers.com? Alex comes in and Kara wants to know the DEO news. Alex, however, is very angry that Kara quit her job of Catco, pointing out that Kara spent years working her way up the corporate ladder. Alex says that she’s done giving Kara space to grieve and they get in a big argument. Kara tells Alex that “Kara Danvers sucks right now.” She likes being Supergirl, not the girl who lost her boyfriend. Alex tries to convince her that it’s okay to feel broken, that it’s okay to grieve, but Kara reminds Alex that she’s not human. Raised on Earth, Superman couldn’t have made the sacrifice she did, but she could because she’s Kryptonian. Kara tells Alex that “Kara Danvers was a mistake.” Alex leaves but not before telling Kara that Kara Danvers is her favorite person, someone who has saved her more times than Supergirl. It’s clear that Kara is upset, but she doesn’t say anything in return.

Down at the waterfront, Supergirl is joined by J’onn on a rooftop as she keeps watch over the statue unveiling. J’onn tells Kara that she has been “courting emptiness of late.” Kara is clearly upset and tells J’onn, “I can’t help people if I’m broken.” J’onn reminds her that she saved him from the pain of his past, and taught him to accept his grief. J’onn talks about the importance of having a human heart. Kara begins to tell J’onn about her dreams of Mon-El and her mother, but decides that they need to stay focused on the skies. They are still assuming that Bloodsport is going to cloak a plane or a missile.

On the ground, Alex and Maggie are working their way through different parts of the crowd. Maggie wants to talk on their radios about what happened at the bar. She wants to know if Alex still wants to get married. Alex is adamant that she does, but admits she is saddened by a big wedding because her father won’t be there to walk her down the aisle. Maggie encourages her and talks about having to find your own family.

Alex bumps into Ruby and Sam, who will become very important going forward. Lena gets onstage and unveils an honestly-not-that-great statue of Supergirl. Lena gives a nice speech about how Supergirl has been an inspiration to her, as well as a friend and a mentor. Just as Kara is about to fly down to join the ceremony, an explosion rocks the waterfront. Glass shatters and concrete splinters.

Winn is working the tech at DEO HQ, but has no idea where a missile could have come front. J’onn tries to find Bloodsport telepathically, but has no luck. Kara realizes that he must be underwater. We see Bloodsport inside what appears to be a military submarine, ordering more torpedoes fired at the waterfront. Kara hovers in the air and uses her super hearing to locate Bloodsport’s heartbeat. She then goes crashing right into the water. A worried Alex tells Maggie, “she can’t breathe underwater,” which is hilarious because why would Maggie assume that she could? Was that for the audience’s benefit?

Underwater, Supergirl gives the submarine a big push and disables the cloaking device. Realizing they’re in trouble, Bloodsport orders another torpedo fired. Supergirl chases after it but gets caught in the explosion when Bloodsport detonates it. On land, Sam and Ruby have become separated and the latest explosion has trapped Ruby under part of a steel tower. Distraught, Sam screams as she tries to lift the tower. We see her hand crush part of the tower like it’s made of tin foil as she is able to lift the tower off of Ruby. Underwater, Kara is unconscious and sinking into the murky depths. Winn and Alex try to contact her with their radios (would that work underwater?), but they have no luck. Finally, we see a quick shot of Mon-El on the alien dream world telling Kara to “wake up.” Kara wakes up and clearly decides she’s tired of this stupid submarine business. She shoves a torpedo right back into the tube as it’s fired and then lifts the whole submarine right out of the water.

At L-Corp Kara meets up with Lena in her office and learns that Lena has bought Catco right out from under Morgan Edge. Lena is excited to work with Kara, but Kara tells her that she quit. Lena encourages Kara to “unquit” because she’s her best friend and she doesn’t actually know anything about running a media company. Edge waltzes in and tells Lena that she will regret screwing him over. Kara pointedly leaves as Lena and Edge argue. Just as Edge is telling Lena threateningly that she now has all of his attention, Supergirl shows up on the balcony doing her best hands-on-hips pose. She grabs Edge and dumps him on a cargo ship out in the ocean. She tells him that she knows he was behind the attack on the waterfront. She then says that he has all of her attention and flies off. This all seems incredibly illegal on Supergirl’s part, but whatever.

As Supergirl flies back to the city, we get a glimpse of what we now know is the Legion’s ship underwater, jostled loose by all the explosions. At the DEO, Alex meets up with J’onn and tells him that she and Maggie have agreed to have “the biggest, gayest wedding National City has ever seen.” There’s then a very emotional moment where Alex asks J’onn to walk her down the aisle. J’onn is deeply moved and they both start crying. There’s a funny moment where J’onn asks if he has to wear a tux, and Alex says, “I’m wearing Kevlar and boots, so . .”

At her apartment, Kara is going through a box of stuff and finds some cute photos of her with Mon-El from a photobooth. “Wake up,” she tells herself. She texts Lena, “see you tomorrow, boss.” Lena responds with a heart emoji. She then joins the whole gang at the bar for drinks. We see a shot of Kara’s mother on the alien dream world, but it turns into a nightmare as she turns around and screams with a hideous monster face. Sam sits up startled in bed. Apparently, she was the one having a nightmare.

Now for the review:

The Great:

Much of the Alex and Maggie stuff from this season is ultimately a huge bummer because it’s setting up Floriana Lima’s exit from the show, but the scene where Alex asks J’onn to walk her down the aisle is great. It’s sweet and well-acted, and it’s honestly the highlight of the episode for me.

The Good:

The continuity! Season 2 began with the show unceremoniously dumbing some aspects of the first season, including Kara’s and James’ romantic relationship. So, I really like that this season begins with everyone dealing with the aftermath of the Daxamite invasion and Mon-El’s departure from Earth. Mon-El’s not my favorite character (I don’t hate him. I’m mostly Mon-neutral, to borrow a term from the fan podcast Supergirl Radio), but I like that Kara is dealing with the emotional fallout from his departure.

Kara: They do some thematic things with Kara in this episode that don’t completely make sense (more on that below), but I really like that the writers let Kara be not okay in the early episodes of this season. It makes sense that Kara would be grieving and feeling lost, and Melissa Benoist as always does a great job playing the character.

The action: I am not big on this episode’s villains (more on that below), but there are some cool action sequences in this episode. Supergirl lifting the submarine out of the water in particular is a really cool moment. I enjoyed the submarine lift so much I had the wonderful @danidraws do a sketch of it for me. I support @danidraws on Patreon and you should too!

Sam and Ruby: They are a small part of this episode, but it’s fun to see the introduction of these characters again. I like Sam and Ruby a lot, and I have enjoyed them this season.

The Okay:

Human vs. alien: The episode sets up a theme that is played out over much of the season up to this point. The idea is basically that Kara has a human side of her personality that is warm, caring, emotional, and vulnerable, and a Kryptonian side to her personality that is cold, logical, and ruthlessly pragmatic. I definitely understand and appreciate what they’re going for here, and I think it sort of works. We see this in a later episode when Alex tells Kara to “be cold, be alien” when she fights Reign, which doesn’t work out so well. The idea, I think, is that ultimately it will be Kara’s humanity, and Sam’s humanity, and probably also Ruby’s humanity that will stop the Worldkillers and save the world. So, I get what they’re going for, BUT! Kara had a good life and loving parents on Krypton. So, the Krypton=cold, logical thing strikes me as a little odd.

Kara’s job at Catco: Relating to the theme above, this episode treats Kara’s willingness to quit her job at Catco as an abandonment of the human part of her personality. Once again, I get what they’re going for but the show often doesn’t really care that much about Kara’s job at Catco. We sometimes go entire episodes (particularly this season) without seeing Kara at Catco. So, I think Kara’s assertion that she has a lot on her plate as Supergirl kind of makes sense. We do see Kara in the DEO a lot, and it’s never been clear how Kara has been able to hold down the Catco job at the same time. Lots of super speed, I guess. I also wish someone had at least raised the issue of money. I know shows like this are not about life’s economic realities, but Kara has bills, right? I assume she needs money. Does she get a paycheck from the DEO? Does she have a trust fund? Someone has to pay for that apartment and all those potstickers and donuts.

Alex and Maggie: There are some well-acted moments between Alex and Maggie in this episode, but ultimately this is all kind of depressing in retrospect because they’re just setting up the end of their relationship. I give the show credit for slowly building up to a plausible end of the relationship rather than just having Maggie get kidnapped by aliens or something, but it’s still disappointing. I liked this relationship a lot, and it’s a shame Floriana Lima wanted to leave the show.

The Bad:

Morgan Edge: I hate this character. He’s a rich, entitled jerk. That’s it. That’s the character. He’s not secretly an alien who can fight Supergirl (at least not yet) and he’s not presented as some kind of scientific or engineering genius who can create super-weapons and traps that can hurt Supergirl. He’s just rich and mean. I get that the show is probably trying to say something about white male entitlement in the age of Trump or maybe something about the banality of evil, but he brings nothing interesting to the table as a villain as far as I’m concerned. He’s a foil for Lena, I guess, but I am not sure I care.

Bloodsport: Just seems like a waste of a character that I know exists in the comics. Here, he’s really just a hired gun, and he’s never that much of a threat. I feel like they should have given him some stolen alien weapons and tactical gear that could at least slow Supergirl down, kind of like Master Jailer or the ray gun-toting thugs from the ‘Crossfire’ episode. Then, they could have had a real fight scene between him and Supergirl.

Edge’s Big Evil Scheme: Things don’t always make perfect sense in a comic book show like this, but Edge’s whole plan was really needlessly complicated and implausible. At the board meeting, the Mayor seems to like Edge’s development plan, so why not just go through the normal zoning process? Or maybe bribe some people? And where the heck did Edge get a military submarine? Those things can cost billions of dollars to build. Did he buy one? I’m also not buying that none of those guys in the sub turned on Edge once they were caught. Villains’ plans on shows like this don’t always make sense, but this one struck me as particularly dumb.

Odds and Ends:

Kara at one point regrets knocking Bloodsport off the truck and says, “I should have cuffed him.” Does Supergirl carry handcuffs? Have we ever seen her cuff someone? Not that I can think of. It would be funny if she had some Supergirl-themed handcuffs with the ‘S’ on them that she carried around.

I am still curious what the deal is with the dream world that Kara sees. Is she seeing a real place? Could her mom, like Mon-El, still be alive?

I love Alex telling Maggie, “she can’t breathe underwater.” I remember many fans realizing that this might mean that Alex testing that out at some point. The artist @comickergirl did some wonderful art about this:

http://comickergirl.tumblr.com/post/166272448971/inspired-by-this-post-normally-i-just-like-to

Overall:

Some good thematic table setting for the season to come and some fun action sequences, but the villains are mostly a bore.

Grade: B-

#supergirl #supergirl spoilers

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roadswim-collective · 7 years ago

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Three Times He Lied To Me Lie 1.

I was twenty three when I met him. I was back at home, living with my mother, after three years in halls of residence. Here's a list of the places you'd be most likely to see me during the year I was twenty three:

on a train

in a library

at a railway station

in a corridor

at my tutor's office

in my bedroom.

I had literally no social life, unless you count going to the shop for tobacco. My best friend was my I, Claudius box set. On Friday nights when my mother was out with the girls from darts, I'd drink Prosecco in the bath. Sometimes I'd do that on Saturday nights too.

I did go other places sometimes. If the weather was nice you might see me in a castle. Caerphilly was my favourite. Or I might be at a Roman site like Caerleon. And now and again you might see me out of breath at the top of a hill somewhere looking at the remains of an Iron Age fort. I was always alone on these excursions. I'd end the day pretty much as I'd started it, lying in my bed, in my old bedroom, probably watching Gladiator.

I was halfway through a master's in history with archaeology, a two-year course, and I was completely broke. Amazingly I'd got a First in my degree, and my tutor recommended me for post-grad. It was all a bit overwhelming. I was the first in my family to go to uni, you see. Well, my father was accepted at some art college back in the day but he didn't finish the course, he dropped out. Other than that, though, I was the first to go on to higher education. It was quite a big deal at the time. Nerve-wracking. I more or less expected to crash and burn.

Everyone else seemed so confident, so talky, and loud. So English, I was about to say. But that's not fair. I just hadn't met many people like that back then, middle class people. A lot of them hardly bothered going to lectures and they were always incredibly insulting about the tutors. They were always on the piss too. Now me, for the first two years I just kept my head down and my mouth shut. I worked as hard as I possibly could, hoping to keep up. I read literally everything. When a lecturer praised my work, I'd carry that around with me for days like a little glow of fire to ward off the doubts.

Not that I was some kind of nun. My main indulgences were:

thin little roll ups in liquorice papers smoked on the library steps, about one every half hour

a bottle of vodka in my bottom drawer for winding down at the end of a long essay

the occasional lump of cheap hash to see me through the holidays

a boy from Norfolk with nice dark eyes, though that was more trouble than it was worth.

By the final year, though, I knew I was heading for at least a 2:1, possibly even a First. There didn't seem so many of the loud talky ones around by then. There were a lot of drop outs. On the one hand that made it hard, because the spotlight began to shine on me a bit more. I couldn't just hide in the back of the seminars anymore, I was invited to contribute. On the other hand, those little glows of praise from my lecturers had grown into a proper fire, burning day and night. And I started to see them as human, my tutors, not as untouchable gods or whatever but as people who were obsessed by the past, by trying to dig it up and see it as it was, just like me. It was hard to believe I'd made it to the end of the three years. And now they were encouraging me to take it further, to do an MA.

I mean, it was way beyond what I'd expected. That last year was just wonderful, I loved it.

The day I graduated, my mother cried and my brother puked. We were all in the union bar, toasting each other. I can drink my brother under the table, and I did that day. Uncle Lloyd was there too, wearing a blue suit that I won't forget too soon, putting away the cheap beer and chatting a bit too much to girls. My father hadn't turned up. He'd promised he would, but that's my father. I can't believe I really expected him to be there. Maybe I didn't, I can't quite remember now.

So anyway, yes. That was, nice, to be doing so well. And now I got to spend the next couple of years digging around in sub-Roman Britain, a time I'd been mildly obsessed with since I heard the stories of Saint David and Saint Dyfrig in RE at school. I always saw it as this mysterious realm full of saints and kings and warlords and clashing cosmologies, and all of it hidden in layers and layers of myth and dirt. It was like digging up a real life epic, it was kind of a dream come true for me.

On the other hand, after three years as a student I was completely broke, massively in debt, and I hadn't made any friends. And now I was back at home, with my mother, in my old bedroom, commuting to Cardiff from Aberdare, an hour each way on the train, to do my studying. I was making a tiny bit of money working part-time in college libraries at different campuses all over the place, Merthyr, Treforest, all over. I read my Mary Beard books over lunch, and on station platforms in all weathers I listened to podcasts.

My mind was usually far off in the mist, tracing trade routes of lost empires, digging through dead cities, reading old epitaphs. I was starting to feel a bit sort of nothing about everything, or everything modern, everyday life, here and now. I'd even stopped watching reality TV. The only things I watched now were documentaries. Well, and Derren Brown, I loved his stuff.

Everyone I'd known, my uni friends, had all sort of evaporated. The same thing had happened when I left school, or whenever I changed jobs. It was happening again now. Helen and Julie, Rupinder, Jay, Alex and Steve, Danny, my sort of ex, they'd almost faded out, just a year after we all graduated and I promised to stay in touch. None of my friendships were ever strong enough to survive the transition, everyone just floated away. I couldn't say why.

I was happy enough though, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my own company. To be honest, I couldn't really imagine looking round a historical site with someone else. Having to talk to them, listen to them, instead of just looking at the stuff. Or standing on an iron age site, a hill fort, looking down into the valley, no sound, only the wind whispering and the birds calling – and just because someone else is there you've got to ruin it all with small talk. I tried to see it in more positive terms but I failed to convince myself. I just couldn't imagine it. Very often, I paid for the audio guide tour, with the headphones.

Anyway, there was this librarian I was sort of obsessed with. His name was Will and he was twenty nine. He worked at the humanities library at Cardiff Uni. I did some shifts there, he was sort of my line manager, one of them anyway. He was slim and tall with thick hair and he talked a lot. The women all loved him. He was funny though not quite as funny as he thought. Well, they never are, are they? But he wore tight jeans and brown boots and they suited him, oh my god they suited him. His eyes were green and twinkly, his grin was cheeky. I didn't think he fancied me but I knew for sure that he knew I fancied him.

I sometimes got flustered when we were chatting in a corridor. I was full of pent-up lust. There were moments when literally all I wanted out of life was for Will to turn up at my door late one night and fuck me senseless. Preferably a Friday night, when my mother was out with the darts girls and I was all wet and alluring from my Prosecco bath.

Anyway it was no good, he had a girlfriend. Cerys. They lived together. No kids though. So there was always the chance they'd split up. I tried to gauge the likelihood. It seemed a pretty stormy relationship. He made lots of bad jokes about him and Cerys rowing all the time, her insane jealousy.

He turned up to work one day with his wrist in a splint. When we asked him about it, he said this: "A woman in a bar came up to ask where the toilets were, and the missus didn't like it so she broke my wrist, just as a friendly warning." It turned out later he was joking and he'd actually fallen over drunk. Everyone laughed. But the next day when we were getting cans from the machine Will confided to me that the reason he'd fallen was because Cerys pushed him over some bins on the way back from the pub. "We shouldn't drink together, me and her," he told me. "Only one of us should be drunk at a time. Or it goes bad."

So it all seemed quite volatile. Sometimes he looked miserable. There were phone calls from Cerys that sent him scuttling outside, scowling. He made lots of jokes about how unreasonable she was, how she flew into a rage, shouted and screamed. In dark moments I imagined that what he was leaving out from all these stories for the sake of decency was all the amazing, passionate, hot sex they were having when they weren't rowing. She probably shouted and screamed all the way through that too. Lucky bitch. I didn't have enough experience to make that assumption, really, but it crept up on me sometimes as a slightly depressing certainty.

All this drama seemed very distant from my own life. It was like watching I, Claudius, all that passion, the lust and the violence, Brian Blessed. And there was me, alone in my teenage bed at night, my hand wandering down, trying to visualise the exact lift and curvature of beautiful Will's tight bum. I was wondering if it was finally time I invested in a vibrator.

So then they did split up, Will and Cerys. It wasn't the first time but she'd gone back to Llanelli or Ammanford or wherever she was from, and apparently she'd never done that before. Will seemed pretty upset and he got a lot of sympathy at work, which he obviously enjoyed. I'd say the percentage male/female split at the humanities library was about 30/70 to the girls. Some of the men seemed a bit uncomfortable with this, with being out-numbered, but others blatantly loved being surrounded by women. Will was one of those.

He started going out for drinks after work. We'd all go, a big pack of us. Yes, me too. This sort of party gang developed. Friday nights mostly and usually around Cathays, in the Woodville or the Pen and Wig. There was boozing and there was bad behaviour. I got caught up in it a bit. I'm not really into that kind of thing, in general. I'm useless at small talk, it's just embarrassing, so I drink too much to compensate, and I talk a load of crap, wear myself out, and have to spend the next fortnight in bed. But it's funny how a change in just one colleague's relationship status can act as a catalyst on the pent up frustrations of the whole office.

And of course I always had to catch the last train back home. That was at ten to eleven so I was leaving early, baling out while the night was still young. They were all staying out, Will and everyone, they were going on somewhere else. And I'd be on the train, half-cut but not quite pissed, with all the sweaty bellowing valley boys, nodding-waking-dribbling all the way back to cold dark Aberdare.

There was nothing left for me at home really. The girls who'd stayed there were on their second or third kids. We had nothing in common now. All the boys were messing about with the same old things as before, cars and sports and booze, just with jowls now and already balding. Thinking about it, I don't suppose I had much in common with anyone in the first place.

So I started staying the night now and again with my new friend Abby who was doing a PhD and lived in Roath. Not every weekend, just if it was going to be a big night, someone's birthday or whatever excuse came up. I was quite good at drinking, still am, and I'd always be among the last standing. It was me who had to get Abby into a taxi and find her door key and let us in and, more than once, hold her hair back while she was sick. And when it came down to the last handful at the very end, Will was always there too. Will and me, Abby, Hannah, Chris, a few others. There until the bitter end. None of us had anything much to go home to really.

So one Friday night we ended up in this over-priced cocktail bar on City Road, six or seven of us I think, probably about 1am. Abby and I happened to be sitting opposite Will, the three of us leaning in close over a tiny glossy circle of table to be heard above the music. He was on great form that night, Will. He listened to the latest installment of Abby's catastrophic love life with great interest and had a lot to say about it all. He told Abby that none of it was her fault and she deserved much better. He said, "Look at me, after all this Cerys stuff – I'm bruised, sure, I'm bruised to holy fuck, but I'm not bleeding." I'd almost say he was cosying up her to her but I didn't get that feeling, it read more like a supportive friend thing. Also, I noticed that he was addressing quite a few of his comments on love and heartbreak and so on directly at me. As in, right into my eyes. So of course I began to feel ridiculously excited and kept insisting on more drinks all round.

When men try and chat you up, it's almost always boring, and forced, and makes you cringe. I mean, I suppose I'm partly to blame because I'm just no good at small talk. And chatting up is usually just a subset of small talk, really. You're not usually talking about anything in particular, there's nothing to cling on to, and it's all crappy, you're just wafting these threadbare festoons at each other in desperation. So I tend to just sort of clam up and that's the effect most blokes' efforts have on me, their intended target. Not Will. He was good.

Abby was talking to Hannah so now Will and I were just looking at each other over our tiny table. He grinned and beckoned me to lean in closer, so I did, and he said, "I'd like to try something out on you, if you don't mind." So I raised my eyebrows at him and said Um, okay..? To which Will did a mischievous little chuckle and told me it was a kind of personality test, and I said A test? O-kaaaay... "Don't be worried though", he said, "it's not serious, it's just a bit of buggering about, of no diagnostic value," so I said, Well that's a relief and he chuckled again.

And he was wearing this really nice aftershave and I could see the hairs on his chest poking over the top of his shirt. Plus I was half-cut. Plus it had been a bloody long while since I'd even been near a bloke. So you can imagine, can't you?

Will's idea turned out to be quite good. Basically, you've heard that thing – if you could have as your superpower either being able to fly or being able to make yourself invisible, which would you choose? Those crappy questions you get on Facebook that are meant to reveal some essential truth about your personality based on a seemingly throwaway choice you make. Well, Will said he hated it because it was an obvious fix, a swizz, the superpowers thing, because all the traits associated with flying were really good ones – success, confidence, flying high, reaching for the sky, freedom, the great beyond. And then you had invisibility, said Will, which was the choice of creeps. Think of the kinds of things being invisible would allow you, would invite you to do. It's nothing very noble, is it, Will said. It's sneaking around, it's hiding, not being upfront and honest. It's peeping toms, he said, it's sneaks and spies and saboteurs, it's eavesdroppers and shoplifters and pickpockets. Invisibility appeals to the voyeur, to the nosey parker and the perv. So it wasn't really much of a choice, he said, in fact it was a complete fix and he'd thought of his own, much better alternative.

I was laughing at all this, by the way, and reaching across to maul his arm from time to time. This was a good deal better than your average chat up, I was thinking, and even if it wasn't a chat up I was having fun with a silly man on a Friday night and and he was making me laugh so just go with it, just enjoy yourself for god's sake.

"Okay," says Will, "here's the thing. Some old fella down the road from you, mad professor type, he's built a time machine. It's in his garden shed and he's invited you to have a go."

"So this old man is trying to get me to go into his garden shed with him?" I say. "I don't think I believe he's got a time machine in there, to be honest. I think he might have other reasons."

"Fair point," says Will. "Make it your grandfather then. Someone you trust."

"How about my grandmother?"

Will says, "What's the matter, you don't trust your grandfather?"

"Very funny," I say. "Well, yes I did trust my grandfather and he did make things in his shed, but he's not alive now so..."

"Oh shit. Sorry," he says. "I haven't got any grandparents left, as of last month. Ah well, life's a shit, your grandmother it is then. Okay, so you go into the shed, there's the time machine, and your lovely old Nana is inviting you to be the first to have a go on it."

"First?"

"Yup. First ever trip, the maiden voyage. And she wants it to be you, her favourite grand-daughter."

"Her only grand-daughter, " I tell him. "So, I'm like a sort of guinea pig? My Nan wants me as a guinea pig?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Will says. "But in a very loving way."

I did one of my stupid big honking snorting laughs all over him at this point. By now, fed up with shouting over the music, Will had come round the table and we were pretty much squeezed together. He seemed to enjoy it, this muffled explosion of me. We were laughing at my laugh. I called it my walrus call, he said it was a great, unashamed, life-affirming laugh, he said it was one of the great laughs. What a bloody charmer, eh? I was seriously starting to wonder if I'd be spending the night at Will's instead of holding Abby's hair as she puked. I was starting to feel pretty damn good about myself, doing all the sexy banter, all the flirty-flirty stuff. I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, I don't always read the signals. This, though, with Will, this Friday night, I felt bloody fantastic about everything.

"Alright, forget about your Nan and the shed and everything," Will said. "You've just got hold of this time machine somehow, okay? But you can only use it once, I mean for one return trip. There and back, then that's it. So the question is – where would you choose to go, the future or the past?" Then he frowned. "Actually this might not work so well on you because you're an archaeology student, not a normal person."

Anyway, to speed things up a bit, that question of Will's led to a conversation between us that went on until we all got chucked out of the place at about two and then continued in the taxi heading for Abby's house. I told Will I'd choose to visit the past, of course, either to sub-Roman Britain to see what it was really like, or all the way back to the start, before agriculture, to when we were still nomads. We talked about that for a while, the distant past, then Will said if he had the one-trip time machine he'd definitely choose the future, no question at all. At least two thousand years, he said, either that or a few million, because he wanted to see how it all panned out.

So then we talked about that for a while, the far future. It was all quite slurry and rambly and drunken, of course, but it just kept going, and we got on to what all this might for our respective personalities, and about the state of the world in general, whether things were getting better or worse, whether there was any hope for the human race and all that.

And then, suddenly it seemed, we were outside Abby's house and she was getting out of the taxi, stumbling on her doorstep, trying to find her key, fiddling it into the lock, waving goodnight, and falling into her hallway, while I was staying in the taxi with Will, who was in the middle of saying that there never was a golden age, it was just a fantasy, there was never a time when everything was in harmony and everyone was happy, but that there could possibly be one at some point to come if we didn't blow ourselves up or make ourselves extinct through climate change, and also there was Paul the spotty Australian IT boy who was fast asleep and snoring and had to be shoved really hard to wake him and get him out at his place in Riverside while we went on to Will's flat, quite a nice one in Llandaf North.

And then, suddenly it seemed, it was a year a later and we were on holiday in Rome. It was my first ever visit and it was amazing, overwhelming, beautiful, and Will and I were celebrating the anniversary of that night when we got together, and we were walking around having what was basically a continuation of the same conversation that we'd started then, in that over-priced cocktail bar in Roath.

It was an odd match really, Will and I. We were different in lots and lots and lots of ways. We hardly agreed on anything. And at first, I think we were both kind of fascinated by how different we were, despite having quite a lot in common. Here are some of the things we had in common:

smallish working class valleys hometowns, Aberdare and Glynneath

stopped feeling that we fit in to our respective hometowns at around the same age, 14

each had an older brother who got married and moved away, his to England, mine to Monmouthshire, which amounts to the same thing

divorced parents, both our dads had left home, both of us were under 10 at the time, and neither of us really saw much of our fathers

both went to Welsh school but hadn't really kept up the language since

first in our family to get a degree, Will having achieved a 2:2 in psychology

we'd both been members of the Green Party at some point, although neither of us was now

similarly miserable teenage years, greasy depressions spent in cocoons of totemic books, music, films, art, clothes, comedy, metaphysics, magic, comics, etc, evolving into a dense and intricate personal para-reality to which the everyday world of bus stops and dog shit was merely a laughable and mundane annexe.

It felt as though we'd started off in roughly the same place but had headed in different directions. We kept coming back to the past/future thing, it was like some structuring principle we used in thinking about our differences. Here are some of differences we noticed:

Favourite films - me: Agora, with Rachel Weisz as Hypatia, Elizabeth, with Cate Blanchett, Mel Gibson's Mayan epic Apocalypto, and yes Gladiator. Will liked Bladerunner, Alien, Star Wars, the first Matrix, The Fifth Element, and Guardians of the Galaxy

Books/authors – On holidays from my study reading I liked Sarah Waters and Hilary Mantel. One of my favourites was Alan Garner, ever since I read The Owl Service when I was thirteen. As a kid I read and loved all of Tolkien to the point where it affected my dreams and I saw epic battles on my walk to school, raging in the morning clouds that cling to the scarp of Maerdy mountain. Will had never read any Tolkien but had an impressive number of multi-part space operas under his belt, his favourite being Iain M. Banks' Culture novels. He could quote huge chunks of Douglas Adams and he also loved William Gibson...or was it William Burroughs? One or the other anyway. He mostly read non-fiction now, a lot of pop science, Freakonomics, Malcolm Gladwell, Dawkins.

Music – I listened to Fairport Convention and Nina Simone. Will listened to German minimal techno

The state of the world today – we both agreed that everything was in a right mess, massive poverty, total exploitation, greed, capitalism, eco collapse, extinction event imminent, all caused by us. Not just Will and me. Humans. Where we differed was where we looked for possible solutions. It was the time machine again – he went forward, I went back. Will felt there was no way to fix all the things wrong with the world by going back, it was too late. Humans had caused damage to the world by being too clever – fossil fuels, international tourism etc – but it was only humans therefore who could fix it all, by being even more clever. He looked to a post-market utopia in which we've abolished scarcity, outgrown the lizard brain, conquered evil and greed with intelligence, and built a new world based on a new understanding. We'd first heal our planet with our incredible new machines, and then we'd move out beyond Earth in creative, peaceful waves, slowly evolving into children of the stars. I exaggerate, but only a bit. And me, I still do the same now, I dig back to older societies and pre-modern ways of life, tribal ways and folk narratives, non-profit motives, sustainability, to structures of feeling abandoned on the road to modernity, old medicines for our modern sickness. Will was never very open to any of this stuff. His closing flourish was always something about whatever the old days might have had going for them, it was basically a kind of blissful ignorance, hardly to be envied, and besides, no-one – not even you! - would genuinely want to live in any era of human history before reliable anaesthetics were invented.

As I say, we hardly agreed on anything. But in the early days that was part of what made it fun. We used to debate things a lot in the early days, it was what we did. And whatever we were talking about, at some level you could sense that same old past/present thing, his time machine thing. It really seemed to me he'd hit on something essential about his approach to life and mine, and the differences between them.

So we were in a cafe opposite the Colosseum having coffee, sat right in the bay window, watching the street life. I tried to order two double espressos but I messed up my pronunciation and the waiter brought us singles. Will beckoned the guy back over, and the waiter smiled and said, in English, "You want milk?" Will gave him half a grin, shook his head, and said, "Nessun latte – doppio – prego," and they both laughed, the waiter nodding and whisking off our tray. Then Will turned back to me and grinned his bloody adorable grin. I was thinking we might have this coffee then maybe pop back to the hotel room for an hour or so.

"Milk indeed," he said. "He must have taken us for a couple of weak ass English milk weeds."

I laughed.

"You know what you should do, Will? You should be a writer. You should write something."

"Ha, what?" he said. "I don't think so. I haven't got anything to say."

"You've always got something to say, you idiot."

"Well, yeah, but it's all bullshit really, when you come down to it."

"Well, yeah, but that needn't matter. Look at some of the crap that that sells."

"Mmm, Da Vinci Code, Fifty Shades, Jeremy Clarkson, fair point," he said. "But, no, no, I really don't think there's anything in my particular brand of bullshit that would sell."

"I don't know," I said. "What about your time machine? I'd say you could definitely make something out of that. It's good. It gets you thinking."

"Do you reckon?"

"I do, yes, I think you could make that into something, a story, something funny and clever," I said, "like you."

And he leaned across the table and kissed me. A big kiss, right there in the bay window, with everyone going by. When I opened my eyes again he was smiling at me, his eyes were so warm, he was so handsome, and golden autumnal Rome was glowing away behind him. I felt so good, so happy, more than happy. It was all so much more than I'd expected. I whispered a suggestion to him and, after our espressos, we popped back to the hotel for an hour.

Will often said he'd like to write but he never did. And the thing is, he already had a story about that time machine, an actual story with a beginning, a middle, and a funny but very bleak punchline. I couldn't see why he didn't write it up. Can we just skip just for a minute back to that first night I spent with Will, at his flat in Llandaf North? So it's stupid o'clock in the morning, we're both at the point where you drink yourselves sober, and we're out on his brown bolted balcony. I'm squinting at

glimpses of the Millennium Stadium and the BT building through the trees. A mile and half away, the city centre. The rain is falling but the air is warm and smells sweet. We're still not quite sure if we're going to do it. Will had a text from his ex earlier – at three in the morning! - and it sort of made the atmosphere between us a bit weird. So now we're on the balcony, talking. I remember telling him that all his Bladerunners and his Aliens and his cyberpunk whatever, all these futures he was into were all horrible. Mostly these were all dystopias. It was satire. The future in most of these things he loved was some crazy exaggerated version of today's world, with all our problems pushed to the limit. I remember him grinning as I pressed the point. Well, he said, realistically, and whatever I'd prefer, it's probably more likely we'll fuck it all up and ruin the world. Realistically speaking, he said. That's funny, I told him, you love the future but you don't even believe in it really. Your best guess is it's going to be even worse than today.

And then he told me this story. There's this couple, he said, and she's like you, she loves the past. And he loves the future. And one day this time machine really does turn up, but you can only take one ride each in it. Just one return trip because human minds can only deal with the experience once in a lifetime, any more and you burn out your brain. So she goes first, heads into the past, and comes back a few seconds later in a state of deep depression and disillusionment. Then he has a go, into the future, and comes back a few seconds, depressed and disillusioned. They conclude from their experiences that the present is as good as it gets and enter into a suicide pact. As for living, they say, our spambots can do that for us. But then he remembers that he's already visited both their graves in the far future and the dates on their headstones made it clear they were going to live for several more decades so they don't bother and just split up. She later married a quantity surveyor and bought a big house near Chepstow, and he drank himself to death.

So it was a funny little story with a bleak punchline. I kept telling him to write it up but he never did. I couldn't understand because he kept saying he wanted to write. I mean, I thought it would be a good little exercise to get him started. After all, he had the whole thing there, he just had to write it up. But he didn't write it. He didn't write anything. If he did, I never saw it.

This morning I looked through my bedroom window and the sky was turning a lighter and lighter blue as the sun came up over the motorway. Everything around was beginning to glow. By the time I got to work the clouds had come, colours went grey, and at lunchtime it started raining. It was pouring down as I drove home at five. I sat in a traffic jam on Cathedral Road, blowing the heaters to clear the windscreen, getting hot and prickly, opening the window and getting splashed, and thinking, well, how quickly it came and went, that early sun, and what a long time ago it seemed now.

There's a Welsh saying, Nid yn y bore mae canmol diwrnod teg. A rough translation would be something like, Morning is not the time to praise a fine day. In other words, it's very unwise to call it a nice day when it's still early and it might well piss down later. I love that. It's one of the cliches about the Welsh, that we're very pessimistic. All down to the rain, or the diet, or being conquered, or the Miners Strike. I can't speak for anyone else though, Welsh or otherwise. You might call it pessimism, fair enough - I just call it realism.

I've just got back from a conference in Rome. The paper I gave looked at some of the connections between Macsen Wledig of the Mabinogion and the real life Roman emperor Magnus Maximus. It was beautiful, of course, as it always is in the autumn, golden, and glowing. I walked down by the Tiber where all the plane trees had turned orange and were dropping their leaves into the river. Being the maudlin bitch I am, I made a point of walking pretty much the exact route I walked with Will, eleven years ago now, from the Circus to the Colosseum and up to the Capitoline Hill. It was dark by the time I got to the top and my legs were aching. I leaned on a railing, looking down at the spotlit Forum, and I thought about Will, and I thought about my father, who died six months ago next Tuesday, and I felt like crying to be honest. But I didn't, partly because it would have been pathetic and made me feel worse, but mainly because these anti-depressants I'm on seem to dry up my tear ducts. I get the trigger to cry but nothing comes. Probably for the best.

When I get home from these things I'm always exhausted. Even a short trip with no paper to give leaves me completely worn out. I know what it is. It's not the work, that's nothing. It's not even giving the paper, I've long since built my public speaking armour, I can climb into it whenever I need to. No, it's all the other stuff. The chatting and socialising. Relaxing, kicking back. Networking. All that side of it. I'm useless at it. Wears me out. Never been any good at that stuff.

So I tend to get home, lock myself in my house, set the phone to messages, and basically not talk to anyone for, well, for as long as I can get away with. Which is usually about 48 hours, then I go back to work. I always make sure to book time off for exactly this purpose. I call it my decompression period. If I don't get it, if I have to go straight back to work, I go a bit mad. Noticably so. Incredibly irritable, interspersed with moments of mild hysteria. To be fair to my colleagues, they're used to it by now, they've adapted, it's become 'a thing', an amusing thing everyone knows about me, Anna. Academia is a perfect trap for eccentrics. Everyone has their quirks, but actual, diagnosable personality disorders are no more or less common than in any other vocation.

I haven't really changed. Not really.

During decompression I can't even read anything. All my books stay on their shelves. I turn instead to the internet. Last night I watched a whole series of a forgotten ITV sitcom from the 80s called Me and My Girl, starring Richard O'Sullivan as a widower bringing up his now teenage daughter Sam, played by Emma Ridley. Don't ask me why, it's not very good. And this morning I looked up Will's Facebook. Don't ask me why. He's got his profile set to public so I can have a good look at all his family holidays, his wife's birthday, their anniversaries, their kids growing up. Not that I envy her, I can just imagine all the crap she has to put up with. She probably doesn't even know the half of it. She looks more and more hopeless in the pictures, to be quite honest, and a bit thinner every time. This – looking at Will's Facebook – this is no good. I realise that and I hardly ever do it. Why would I, really? I found out all about Will a long time ago, and that's why we're not together now. The main feeling I get when I think of how close I came to ending up with him is relief. I look around my cosy house and I think, wow, close escape. But when I'm in this state, post-conference, I end up doing it, peeking into Will's life, I don't know why.

I wondered if Will ever did rouse himself to write anything. If he ever made something of his time machine thing. By the look of his Facebook, he hadn't, he was still at the humanities library, head of department. When I was full of his family pictures I just sorted of drifted through various Google searches, all pretty desultory. I suppose I was vaguely wondering if anyone else had come up with a similar idea anywhere in the world. Turned out, someone had. My drifting led to a review of a book of short stories, called Minimum City, including one which sounded remarkably similar to Will's time machine story. It was just a synopsis really but it was enough to make me look up the short story collection and its author. It was an American author, a man, quite a big name but I'd never heard of him. Contemporary set fiction still isn't really my thing. From reading the Amazon reviews and all the rest of it, this is what I learned about Minimum City:

It was made up of 28 stories

They were all very short, some only a paragraph long

It was a very slim book, with big type and wide margins

All the stories were set in the modern world

They all tended to have some kind of twist / sting in the tail

The tone was cynical, darkly funny, etc etc

It didn't sound like my kind of thing but I could imagine Will enjoying it, at least Will as he was when I knew him, I can't speak for now obviously. I found the story. It had first been published in an online literature journal before being collected in the Minimum City collection. Its title was The Return Trip. It was very short. A couple come into possession of a time machine. All the rest follows exactly as in the story Will told me on the balcony of his flat in The Crescent at about four in the morning, twelve years ago. Right down to the spambots line.

I'd already checked publication dates. The Return Trip by this American author whose name eludes me now was first published in an online magazine called Young Boasthard's four years and eight months before Will told me the story. It was collected in Minimum City and published by Harper Collins six months before Will told me that story and passed it off as his own, on the balcony of his flat.

And I started laughing and laughing, until I had to put my bowl down in case I got milky cornflakes over my t-shirt.

#The Effluent Lagoon #roadswim collective #three times he lied to me #fairport convention #german minimal techno #richard dawkins #ursula le guin #tolkein #iain m banks #sub-roman britain #the dream of macsen wledig #magnus maximus #st dyfrig #bladerunner #agora #time machine #time travel #minimum city the return trip

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sendousha · 5 years ago

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A woman’s voice whispered him into darkness beneath the Earth’s watch. Not her arms were around his sleeping frame, but there remained faint recollection of warmth. What transpired after the sanctuary’s demolition began was vague; blur and shadow mixed into one — and warmth far more spread caressed him as he stirred. From the void, hazed colours penetrated, melding themselves into shapes and then faces. One of cyan vanished following sounds between them, leaving behind a pair.

Once his eyes adjusted to the brightness of an environment with light independent, those faces and their distant voices became apparent. Kai and Naoki hovered by the bedside, stubborn as they had been within his domain’s court not to leave his side. Dry lips parted to form words — their names — but none coherent came.

“Hey, take it easy,” was Naoki’s response. “You just rest up. Man... you had us scared! Don’t pull something like that again...”

It came back to his groggy mind slowly; the quest to keep Link Joker from becoming a threat once more, and just how. By hypocritically taking the burden on his shoulders alone mere days after reaffirming to Kai in his darkest place that he were not alone. By reaching out to strangers who would guard his sealed state from his closest friends whom he pushed away — no matter if it be for their safety, out of love for them.

It was wrong, it was stupid. And the price they had almost paid because of it...

“Gaillard just left to inform the others that you’ve woken up. It’s been a day since we got back,” Kai elaborated. “We’ve been working on a cover story for your disappearance from home and school. Kamui and the others are fine — naturally, they’re upset about everything which happened after they were removed from the situation, but seeing you safe and home was a huge relief to them".

Aichi’s chest grew tight; his intention had been not to harm them, resorting to such drastic measures as removing himself from their memories entirely. And yet... “—I’m sorry”.

Kai’s eyes fell shut, shaking his head briefly. “There’s no need. We all forgave you long ago. Once we learned what was going on. It's my responsibility — this all happened because I initially allowed Link Joker’s power to blind me to sense”.

“When we were talking about it, Kamui was the first to speak up saying it was just like you to try and protect everyone,” Naoki chimed. “Once we put our heads together, it wasn’t much of a surprise really”.

The lengths they would go to for one another... The more one would think of it, the more sense it made. They had gone to the ends of the Earth and beyond for him, just as he would have for any of them. Going further, even — and he’d no doubt in his mind for Kai in particular, no distance would be enough; not out of obligation to correct his wrong, but to reach through the endless void and pull back a friend who existed in isolation he were familiar with. It was an honour to be cared for to such a degree, to be blessed with those who would go such distance, and for whom he could go to such extremes to shelter. Love bound by no measure.

The door behind them opened; the aforementioned Knight reentered the room, and with him, the trio of faces whom had pursued him alongside the nearest pair.

“Onii-san!” Kamui cried.

A hand from Miwa landed upon his shoulders, clamping down before any wilder movement than his arms raising could transpired. “Easy now, we’d best not overwhelm him”.

The sight of them all together brought with it more sensations flooding his already-tight chest; relief, joy, much greater warmth — a surge of more than he could put into words. Whatever they spoke between them or towards him fell upon deaf ears, as he merely soaked in the sight of his dearest together — a part of them, as they had yearned. Gaillard remained by the door, pulling it closed so to permit he and the six some privacy. Though it were Misaki who triggered something within him; the ribbon woven about her wrist — the woman whose voice resonated in his fading memories of those final moments by the throne.

“—What happened to Kourin-san?”

Among them, silence fell; a hesitance to resume, as if the answer would further instil guilt with him. As if his actions would have had any bearing of the outcome. Deep within, Aichi knew the answer — he had delayed the process as best he could, but he could not save her.

“She’s in the hospital. We were worried that once she woke up, anywhere could be foreign to her, we’ve got no idea what her memories hold now; if anywhere means anything to her”. Misaki’s fingertips touched the ribbon, her voice calm on the surface. Yet Aichi understood just how valuable the blonde had been to her, how hurt she must be to lose her. “We’ve had time to come to terms with it all. This way, she’s safe”.

It was the only silver lining regarding Kourin — she was free from being someone’s pawn, someone’s hostage, from the danger which gravitated towards the group. Though she would bear none of the memories they made together in the Cardfight Club, they would all remember for her. She would live on within their hearts and minds.

“And hey, don’t worry. We spoke with the Student Council — they’re leaving us alone. Turns out they’re pretty fond of the game too!” Naoki intervened with a grin. “Granny Glasses held down the fort and I betcha Kourin’s influence will still linger around the school so there’ll be plenty of people who still play".

Upon his lips grew a faint smile; she had been awfully forceful and inspiring. A palm brushed against the bed-sheet which congregated about his waist, resting ultimately upon his stomach with thoughts turned back to those innocent club meetings. They knew, after her situation were made apparent, that it would never be whole again ever since Naoki fell to Reverse and Kourin vanished from school.

But she had broken the shackles which kept her locked down by whatever force wish to use her as a bargaining chip. As had Kai. As had Aichi. As had they all. Dwelling would do no good; to spurn only sadness and regret would be to create an entirely new monster of their own, and she would never wish it. Kourin sought the past with fascination and optimism, and they should march to the future with dignity in respect of that. There was no other way about it, and he would not wish it. Aichi could and would not wish for anything more — they, the Mates, were finally complete again, home and safe together, once and for all.

#❂ DRABBLE #EVENT 26 | Dreamscape (Isola)

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astudiouswizard · 5 years ago

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Not too long ago, the wonderful @criticalrolo made this beautiful commission for me about two of my NPCs, Malark Greycastle and Samuel Theen.

Fast forward to now when I’ve finally built up the courage to share one of the things that I’ve written about them - their first meeting. cue the reluctant allies to friends to lovers ;)

“Greycastle!”

He turned to address whomever had called him and snapped to attention. A short, broad man approached, wearing a smirk that spelled trouble. Mal was immediately on edge. “Captain Lorent. What can I do for you, sir?”

“We have some new arrivals this night. Join me in the War Office. It’s about time that you got out of the war games and into the actual war.”

The War Office was where the planning happened. Mal knew that; had known that since he’d arrived 2 years ago. As a lieutenant, he was eligible to be invited to attend strategic meetings, but, so far, had not been. Apparently, that was changing.

“I have a feeling,” Lorent continued, “that we may need your no-nonsense attitude. The fresh meat may be a little over optimistic about the state of this war.”

Malark Greycastle followed Captain Lorent through the fort, brushing by other soldiers on the way. He could tell which ones had been there for awhile and which ones were brand new.

The new ones, straight from the War College, strode through the fort in a way that sent many older soldiers groaning. They all shared the same optimistic glimmer in their eye, like they believed that they were personally going to turn the tide of the war. Mal knew that it wouldn’t take long for them to realize that they would be lucky to survive it.

In contrast, the soldiers who had been at the fort for awhile all carried the slumped posture of people who had already come to terms with their own mortality. They trudged through the streets of the outpost, going about their duties with the least amount of exuberance necessary.

As Mal passed them and made eye contact, there was no smile or nod, but they met his eyes in weary recognition of a possible shared fate.

He put his head down and caught up with Lorent, continuing to follow him through the haphazard maze of streets that made up the Empire’s station.

The Central Office was built hastily but sturdily. Planks of wood made up its structure with small barred windows showing the outside world. Built for function and not form, it was neither comfortable nor aesthetically pleasing, but it served its purpose: it gave the higher ups a place to plan their war.

Lorent pushed through the door first. Mal followed, still feeling like he was a child who had stumbled into the adult’s lounge. Three figures were already hunched over the table, which was covered in maps and scattered pieces of orders from the city. Mal recognized General Robert Heillen, leader of the War Mages, and General Vel Suffep, leader of the War College, but the third man was unknown to him.

Heillen looked up at their entrance, tearing himself away from the conversation the three had been engrossed in. “Captain Lorent, you’re late.”

“My apologies, sir. I went to find my second. I felt it was time that he was involved in these meetings.”

Mal heard the words but knew that Lorent had ulterior motives for inviting him here. If he had to guess, he would say it had something to do with the newcomer. With short blond hair and a neutral expression, the man’s rigid posture and the way his hand was casually sitting on the pommel of his sword showed that he was new. That and Mal had never seen him around the fort before. Even as Mal analyzed him, he could feel himself being analyzed in return.

He absent-mindedly wondered what the other man saw. Did he notice the robes of the War Mage Academy? Or maybe it was the spell gloves tucked into his belt? Did his cockiness cause him to see a mage who was wearing no armor so could probably be easily defeated? Repressing a smirk, he turned his attention back to the conversation.

“I was just asking Lieutenant Theen how many new recruits had arrived today.” Heillen’s attention shifted from Lorent to the blonde haired man who cleared his throat and straightened his spine, if it was even possible to make it any straighter at this point.

“1 company, sir, of 163 guards. Among them is a platoon of 16 graduates from the War Mage Academy.” Mal saw the man’s eyes flick to him before going back to Heillen.

General Suffep, an older woman with an eyepatch over her left eye, smiled. “Very good, Captain.” The smile dropped a second later as she asked, “Did you have any desert before you could reach the outpost?”

With the hike from the War College, which was on the other side of the Sealsom mountains from their position, desertion was common among the troops. Training to do something was much different than actually doing it and reality tended to strike as they made their way to the outpost.

The man’s expression was hard to read as he looked among the room. “No, General. We left the War College with 147 trained recruits, met up with the 16 recruits from the War Mage Academy near Rahero, and I able to account for all 163 soldiers upon arriving here.”

Suffep nodded and turned to Heillen. They exchanged a glance before Heillen nodded. “Very good. What news do we have from the Tiveran Fort?” The question was directed at Lorent as Heillen’s gaze slid away from the newcomer to Mal and him.

Lorent, in turn, looked towards Mal.

“The Tiveran Fort has been dormant for the past few weeks. There has been no movement in or out and the army remains occupied in normal training procedures, nothing serious enough to warrant overpreparation for an impending attack. I should be receiving another report within a few weeks to confirm or negate this.” Mal watched the room as he spoke. Lorent was beaming, Suffep was watching him with untrusting eyes, and the newcomer looked like he was trying to solve an especially challenging riddle.

“Well done. Keep me apprised of the situation,” Heillen said, although he said it to Lorent.

“Of course, general,” Lorent answered.

“If there is nothing else pressing to report, you’re dismissed.” Heillen waited for someone to say something and when no one did, he turned and strode through one of the doors in the back of the room.

Lorent slunk away from Mal and over to Suffep. If he wanted to, Mal could probably listen in on whatever was being exchanged, but he was more interested in the newcomer. He waited by the door upon seeing the man round the central table and head in his direction.

“Allow me to welcome you. I’m Lieutenant Malark Greycastle,” he announced, pouring in a measure of charisma as soon as the other man was within range. Mal held out a scarred hand and waited for the man to finish his resumed analysis.

Seemingly satisfied, he reached out a pale hand and clasped Mal’s darker one.

“Lieutenant Samuel Theen.”

Up close, he looked even younger than before. His serious expression at the moment couldn’t hide the laugh lines around his mouth and his eyebrows were constantly moving in response to what he was hearing or feeling. A head tilt here or there exposed an excitement and vitality that older soldiers had lost. How is he this young, this fresh out of the War College, and a lieutenant? Mal asked himself. Then, he asked Theen. “Straight out of the War College and already a lieutenant. How did you manage that?”

Theen’s chin went up as his eyes hardened. Even with his rigid posture, Mal still had an inch or two on him, but that didn’t seem to dismay him as he answered, “I graduated top of my class - meaning that I was eligible to take the command test.”

“Really?”

“With my score and the recommendations of the instructors, there, I was granted the rank of Lieutenant.”

“I see.”

Those responsive eyebrows dipped as he scowled at the taller man. “I hope you do.”

Mal knew he was meant to feel intimidated. Between the scowl and the way that Theen had crossed his arms, every silent signal was meant to force him to back down. “Question for you, Lieutenant Theen.” If it was possible, Theen’s scowl deepened. “Have you actually seen any active combat? Outside of the school?”

Theen’s eyes said that he knew where this was going; that he had already guessed the predictable climax of this conversation. Mal could only guess that Theen figured he was intending on holding experience over training. But Mal enjoyed doing the unexpected, surprising people in ways that they had never been before.

“I haven’t had the opportunity,” Theen answered.

“Well,” Mal said, turning towards the door, “you seem capable and competent.” There’s the confusion he noted as he looked back towards the other man. “I hope that your instructors were right. We’re often lacking in those qualities. If it comes to it, I’m hoping that you’ll be there to watch my back. Good night.” He forced himself to walk out without looking back, again. As much as he would love to see Theen’s face in that moment, he restrained himself with a hope that it would be worth it later.

Mal waited for Lorent to leave the building. He leaned against the wall, folding the shadows around himself so that no one else noticed him as they passed. First, Suffep and Theen left, speaking quickly in hushed tones. Then, Lorent followed. He seemed unsurprised when Mal seemed to materialize from the side of the War Office to fall into step beside him.

“Why did you bring me to that meeting?” Mal asked, voice low and exacting.

“Straight to the point, I see.”

“It’s my job, sir.”

“Your job is why I brought you.”

“Sir?”

The corner of Lorent’s mouth curled. “Look at her. Suffep parades him around like a prized pony. I was hoping to match her tool with my own.”

Mal bristled at the admittance that he was nothing but something to be used to Lorent. It was nothing new, he’d known it was the truth since the beginning, but the admittance of it was aggravating. He kept his features schooled so as not to reveal anything.

“In addition, I worry that this Lieutenant Theen may cause problems later. It would be better if he was kept out of the way.”

Mal nodded. “I understand, Captain.”

“In the future, you will attend every war meeting. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now keep your ear to the ground, Greycastle, and do your job.”

“Yes, sir.”

#im giving the gays everything they want #meaning im giving myself everything i want #no but seriously #do you like slow burn?#do you like enemies to friends to lovers?#do you like the sweet sweet angst of characters knowing that they love each other but not telling each other for reasons???#then stay tuned #because this has all that AND IS SUPER GAY #thanks again to criticalrolo for drawing my gay sons #i love them so much #dandelimar #sam and mal #my writing #my post #original characters #npcs #ocs

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imfrozentrash · 8 years ago

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Frozen AU: “Untold Secrets” Part Two

The young intern of Arendelle Industries struggles to balance her work at both the office and college campus simultaneously. What happens when a certain CEO distracts her from her duties?

"Yes, Thursday sounds perfect!" Joy smiles, quickly scribbling in her planner. "I'm sure she'll be glad to sponsor you. Thank you for calling, have a great day," she says cheerfully. "You too, bye bye!" hanging up the phone, Joy sighs loudly and slumps in her chair. I thought they'd never hang up. She shakes herself out of thought and tries to organize all of Elsa's appointments in order, so she will be able to inform her when she gets out of her meeting.

"Sounds like we've arranged an agreement,"

"So it appears to be. Thank you, sir. Have a good afternoon," Joy looks up from her piles of papers and sees Elsa exit the meeting room with another business attorney. They shake hands and go their separate ways. As Elsa approaches her, Joy is quick to her feet with her head down.

"Good afternoon, miss," Joy says softly.

"What are the next schedule appointments with the neighborhood companies?"

"Um..." Joy nervously searches for her planner as her boss stands over her, tapping her nails on the desk impatiently. "Tuesday evening with the manager of C'est La Vie Inc. would like to discuss a sponsorship with us. Wednesday morning you have a manager meeting with everyone in the company for an update on all stats and progress. And on Thursday Weaselton and Co. is interested in sharing a sponsorship with their new line of men's clothing," Joy said all too fast because her nerves are getting to her.

Elsa held a long pause and just stares at her. Joy timidly looks up from behind her planner. "Sounds good. Good job," she says quickly. "Sarah says that our main Website is acting up, care to take a look for me?"

"Yes, ma-"

"And please do get me more coffee. The usual. I'm running all out," "Yes, Ms. Els-"

"And I'm going to be out this evening for a meeting down the street. Apparently, a certain management is causing a fuss again. So I'm going down there myself," she snickers under her breath. Joy stays silent, waiting to see if she was done with her list of chores to do for her. Elsa stays silent.

"Understo-"

"And don't be late ever again," Elsa warns coldly. "You know me and my sister run a busy business and we have no time for college students to be slacking off in the simplistic of tasks," Joy bows her head down, feeling ashamed for her tardiness this morning. "That is all," and with that, Elsa walks into her office and slams the door, making Joy flinch. With a defeated sigh, she collapses in her chair.

"One iced coffee with two shots of espresso for Joy!"

"Yes, thank you!" Joy reaches in her pocket, tips the barista, then grabs the drink from her hand. "Have a nice day!" Looking down at her watch, she sees that she's, for once, ahead of her schedule.

But not looking where she's going, she bumps into someone, almost spilling her boss's coffee. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where-"

"Hey, glad we bumped into each other again," Looking up, Joy smiles brightly when she is greeted by a charming Hans and a hot coffee in his hand.

"Hans!" she smiles then shyly at the ground. "I-I mean... Mr. Westergaard,"

"Please, no need of that Joy," Hans chuckles deeply that makes her blush. "I was just heading out. Care to walk with each other?" he offers politely. Joy nods softly without looking up at him and they walk out of the cafe. "I'm sorry if you were late this morning,"

"It's alright. Ms. Elsa is just strict about her schedule. I know she means well; she's just a proficient leader that she needs to make sure that everything is done on time,"

"Are you in any rush now?" Joy looks down at her watch again.

"Nope," she giggles. "Not this time,"

"Then follow me, let's go walk at the nearby park,"

"Although he's my intern and does most of my errands for me, I treat Sitron like one of my best friends. Because quite frankly, he really is. And I'm glad that I have both a professional and friendship relationship with him," Hans smiles.

"That sounds great..." Joy whispers under her breath. Hans hears her sadness but decides to pretend to not notice.

"So, you said you're in Grad School?"

"Yeah, the semester is almost done. I'm about wrapping up my last two years there. It's crazy how fast everything is happening," she chuckles, looking down at the almost room temperature iced coffee for her boss. "Having this intern job is all I have to my name, in terms of money. My rent is going through the roof and I'm drowning in student loans... Life is a bit rough right now,"

"No siblings or parents to help you out?" Hans instantly regrets asking because he knows it's too personal. Keeping her head down, she shakes her head in response. "I'm sorry Joy, I didn't mean..."

"It's alright, you didn't know," she reassures, but he could tell she is still upset. The two of them continue walking then decides to take a seat on a bench.

"I know how you feel," he chuckles, sipping the last of his coffee. "My family isn't exactly easy on me either. Trying to be on top of things when in competition with my brothers, hasn't been exactly my forte lately,"

"Then why do you keep doing it if it's not making you happy?" she asks, leaning closer in curiosity and sincerity.

Hans looks over and smiles sadly. "Because I thought it would make my father proud of me. All my life I've been shut out by everyone in my family. I thought to be mature at an early age as of right now, would show them all that I'm capable of upholding to their standards," he sighs and throws away his empty cup at the nearby trash can. "But I guess it's not doing me any good,"

"From what I hear," Joy scoots closer and places her hand on his shoulder, leaning in so they locked eye contact. Hans looks up in surprise but doesn't turn away. "I think Hans Westergaard is great. And despite his family being blind from that, he's very successful in whatever he's doing right now," she smiles softly. Hans grows speechless and stares into her eyes. He's lost for words when he sees the Spring breeze flow through her long brown hair and the sunlight hitting the top of her head from the beautiful sunny day. He's about to lean in closer when his cell phone rings.

"Oh um..." he scoots away from her, creating a bigger distance. Reaching into his coat pocket he looks at the caller I.D. It's Elsa. "I'm sorry, I have to take this," Joy nods respectfully and turns away, allowing Hans some space. He gets up and walks away paces away from her. He answers the phone call. "Hello?"

"Look, I am through with your company's complaints with my employees. Mine are just as hard working, if not, more than yours so they do not deserve the criticism from you,"

Hans sighs in annoyance. "I'm not saying anything. It's them,"

"Despite what our companies have gone through in the past, can we please just come to a compromise already? I'm getting tired of this nonsense for too long," she sounds exhausted.

"I'd thought you'd never come to your senses," he smirks.

Elsa sighs in frustration. "I'll come by your office in an hour. Or at least until my intern finally comes back with my coffee. Honestly, how do you deal with yours? Mine is so off the clock lately,"

Hans was about to make a smart remark but decides against it. "See you in an hour," and with that, he ends the call. Hans walks back to the bench where Joy is patiently waiting.

"Is everything okay?" she asks politely.

"Yeah, everything's fine," he smiles, offering her a hand. "So I guess that means that our date is coming to a close sooner than we expected,"

Joy accepts his hand and stands closer than she thought. Then, she pauses and looks up at him with a shy smile. "Did you say, our date?" Hans is lost for words and doesn't respond. "Was this a date? Like our first date?"

"Um..." Hans stutters on his words. "Well, hey! Look at the time!" he laughs nervously and takes the lead. "It sure is getting late, so we better get going before Elsa has a fit again," Joy walks next to him silently before she starts to laugh. Hans blushes and stays quite, feeling embarrassed yet happy to hear Joy's laughter.

Thank you for making it thus far! I appreciate your reading, regardless of a number of notes my creations might get or not. ♡

Also, since I always thought this when reading other creators’ work, I thought I would let you know this! Do not worry about this multi-chapter AU being incomplete. Since my fanfictions take a little longer than expected to be published, I make sure I complete it to the best that I can. So I stick to a personal schedule of when to publish them.

Becuase I know how it feels to stop reading an unfinished piece of work you really enjoy! ♡

So, thank you & look for another update in a few days!

Any questions/comments/concerns? My inbox is always open! ♡

#frozen #fanfiction #AU #multi-chapter #untold secrets #hans westergaard #elsa #OC #imfrozentrash

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