#its quite short but i was going for wistful so maybe it fits

[writing-good-vibes]

For the August prompt could you write something with #28- Polaroids #29- childhood friends with Leo nova or Charles lee ray please 💕

ahh greetings, thank you for requesting !! hmm i went with leo for this one because i got other requests for polaroid and childhood friends with chucky, so happy reading with those, and i hope you enjoy this one too (even if it is a bit short, my apologies) 😊 thank you again for requesting, leo is always a menace 💗 WARNING for suggestions of smut but nothing explicit.

[☀ requests for summer prompts are still open, and will be all month ☀]

leo nova (polaroid and childhood friends)

It had been years since you'd seen Leo.

You heard we went out west somewhere. Somewhere where the sun always shined. Somewhere where he could make something of himself, you supposed.

That was the things about Leo, he was always looking for a way out.

Sometimes you thought you were crazy for still thinking about him. About all the summers you'd shared and about the puppy love you'd been so deeply in. About late nights on warm asphalt roofs and longs days in dirty public pools.

Long drives where Leo's hand was on your thigh more than it was ever on the steering wheel. Drives where he promised he'd take you away with him, when he finally got away.

But that never happened.

He skipped town one day and that was the last you ever heard from him. Life happens, you suppose. You'd just kind of hoped that your lives might happened togehter.

It's silly now though, to linger on the past like that. So you pack it away and forget about it.

One day, in the future, you might find a box full f memories and be tempted to look through it. In it you'll find a stack of polaroid photographs, tacky with age, in an envelope. They fall into your lap and you see him for the first time in years. Candid. You kid yourself that it captures a moment where his walls were down. Curly hair and cold eyes.

When you catch the news that night you see a mugshot with the same curly hair and cold eyes. He hasn't changed. Hadn't changed at all.

[ejzah]

I made this comment last night after the episode aired: Who wants to bet that the outfits Deeks was modeling involved increasingly less material as the night progressed? Much to Deeks’ chagrin and Kensi and Kirkin’s delight.

A/N: I definitely ran with this idea, @chicgeekgirl89. I hope you enjoy.

***

Quid Pro Quo

“This is completely ridiculous,” Deeks muttered for the hundredth time. He glanced over at Kensi who was happily sipping at her champagne-completely tipsy at this point and apparently past the point of caring what Anatoli Kirkin did with him-and what looked like a thin cookie of some kind.

“Oh come now, Marty,” Kirkin said in a cajoling voice, popping up from behind the camera. “You know I love it when you pout and act all grumpy, but this is not what envisioned for this photo shoot.”

“Yeah, Marty, don’t be all pouty,” Kensi chimed in, snorting to herself. Glancing over his shoulder, he glared at her and she made a concerted, but in the end futile, effort not to laugh.

Honestly, he would probably be laughing too if one of the other guys were forced to wear something that resembled the imaginings of someone on LSD. Of course, no one else on the team had a crazy Russian ex-criminal who was obsessed with them and likely to make strange requests as a form of payment. He was just that lucky.

His current outfit was black with orange stripes, making him resemble something like a strange wasp. At least there weren’t any animals attached to it this time.

“Chin up.” Kirkin directed him with a little waving gesture which Deeks followed with a reluctant sigh. “Perfect! Time for the next outfit.”

That left four more by Deeks’ count. Without a word, he accepted the latest garment bag from Kirkin and headed for the changing rooms. He supposed he was lucky Kirkin had allowed him that small privacy.

He came back out a couple minutes later, in black pants and a light blue dress shirt paired with a black tie and shoes that probably cost more than Deeks’ whole wardrobe put together. It was the least offensive thing he’d worn all night.

“Not bad,” Kensi commented when he walked back into the photography room and took up the pose Kirkin kept asking for. “Not bad at all.” Her eyes slid down to butt and he frowned at her.

“I agree, but there’s just a little something missing,” Kirkin said with a little sigh. He looked Deeks up and down too and then clapped his hands together. He started to reach towards Deeks and then glanced in Kensi’s direction and drew back. “Martin, could you roll your sleeves up? Just above the elbows.”

Shaking his head, Deeks rolled each sleeve up a few times while Kirkin watched eagerly.

“It’s almost the same as the first case when we met.” Lowering his voice, Kirkin added, “You remember, when we were both naked in the Russian baths.” This time he did touch Deeks; it was little more than a brush of his knuckles against Deeks’ forearm, but it was enough to make him shudder uncomfortably.

“Hey, keep your hands to yourself,” Kensi ordered, a note of warning in her voice. She suddenly sounded competent sober and dangerous. Kirkin obviously heard it too because he immediately dropped his hand, and moved behind the safety of the camera again.

“I apologize. I was...overcome,” he said, his expression a little guilty.

The next half hour passed in a blur. Kirkin brought in several more props for Deeks to pose with. Then two more costume changes. Deeks noticed that the clothes were getting increasingly smaller and tighter.

Currently, he was wearing a pair of exceedingly white pants and a shiny blue shirt that was straight out of “Saturday Night Fever”. The shirt gaped open, revealing the majority of his chest and stomach.

“The 70’s had its perks,” Kensi commented, moving her chair to get a better view.

“No more champagne for you,” Deeks told her firmly.

“You look absolutely wonderful! Those pants fit you like a glove and your chest...” Kirkin made a wistful sound. “You have never looked better.”

“Can we get on with this?”

“Of course. Now for this one, I’d like you to put your left arm in the air and the other on your hip.”

“I’m not doing disco poses, Kirkin.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Deeks tried to look as serious as he could while wearing pants that left very little to the imagination. They felt tighter than anything he’d worn in his exotic dancing days.

“Maaarty, you promised...” Kirkin gave him a pointed look while throwing adopting the post he apparently wanted Deeks to mimic.

“I promised to do a photo shoot, not a feature for Play Girl magazine,” Deeks said,

“I’d buy that issue.” Off to the side, Kensi regraded him with a lascivious look in her eye.

“Me too,” Kirkin added, so quietly Deeks wasn’t sure he’d heard him.

“Oh my god! Fine, I’ll do it.” He tossed his head back with a groan and planted a hand on one hip. “Anything to get this over with. But-“ he pointed between Kensi and Kirkin, two people he never thought would be joining ranks against him- “no one else will ever hear about this or see these photos.”

“Of course.” Kensi nodded along with Kirkin, pressing her lips together either in apparent delight or to hold back laughter again. Kirkin snapped a few more pictures, moving more quickly than he had before. Maybe he realized that Deeks was reaching the end of his patience.

“And now for the last outfit,” Kirkin announced, letting out a sad little sigh. “I have enjoyed this evening together.���

“Yeah it’s been great,” Deeks drawled sarcastically.

“I’ll be back in just a few moments.” He touched Deeks arm as he left the room, but this time Kensi didn’t seem to notice.

“This is so much worse than I imagined.” He plopped down in a chair beside Kensi, pushing on the bridge of his nose to alleviate the inevitable head ache he felt coming.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Kensi said, tilting her head as she eyed him again. She reached over and trailed her fingers down his chest, pausing on his abs.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head at her. “I brought you along to protect me.”

“I am still perfectly capable of protecting you.” She gave him a lazy smile and winked. “And enjoying the view.”

Before Deeks could comment on that, Kirkin returned with a surprisingly small bag this time.

“I was saving this for a very special occasion,” he said with a smile that made Deeks highly suspicious. Kensi leaned forward to get a better look as Kirkin reached in and removed the item of clothing.

It was small and checkered. God, what was with the guy and checkers?”

“Are those...?”

“Hot pants!” Kensi finished, laughing on clear delight. “Oh my god, they’re checkered hot pants.”

“I designed them myself.”

Deeks just stared for a minute, completely horrified. Apparently Kirkin thought it was admiration. His obsession with checkers was disturbing, but at least there weren’t any stuffed animals involved. Probably because there wasn’t room.

“You are delusional if you think I’m putting those on, Kirkin,” Deeks said, laughing at he absurdity of it. “I will wear your ludicrous idea of a coat, I’ll even hold your creepy stuffed animals, but I will not wear hot pants for you.”

“What about our deal?” Kirkin asked, giving the shorts a little shake. “You didn’t make any stipulations.”

“And that was a grave error on my part. I blame it on the overwhelming fumes of hairspray clouding my head.”

“Your hard work deserves to be recognized.” He turned to Kensi when Deeks remained stone-faced. “Kensi, tell him those muscles, deserve to be on display.”

“Yeah, I’m not quite that drunk.”

“Imagine how these-” he gave the pants another shake- “will emphasize those beautiful muscles, tan, and his tight bottom.”

“Alright, we’re out of here,” Deeks decided, grabbing Kensi’s hand and tugging her along after him.

“Marty, please don’t go,” Kirkin called frantically. “The pictures don’t even need to be published. They’ll go straight to my private collection! Martin?!”

“I am so glad I came along,” Kensi said, giggling to herself. “This goes in my top 10 favorite days.”

“You are a terrible body guard.” He tried to maintain a serious expression, but he couldn’t in the face of Kensi’s amusement.

“Oh please, Kirkin would never do anything to hurt you.” She patted his arm and added, “He adores you too much.”

“Fantastic,” he muttered.

“You know,” Kensi said a few minutes later as they drove home. “We totally should have snagged those shorts.”

“You really want to see me in checkered hot pants?”

“I’m curious.” She shrugged. “And as Kirkin said, you have a very nice butt.”

***

A/N: The reference to drawnings/paintings comes from some of my other stories where I’ve had Kirkin give Deeks a series of highly inappropriate gifts.

[galvanizedfriend]

The Wolf Outtake

This is a little outtake, if you will, of The Wolf universe. It actually fits within the post-TW2 headcanons I've been writing to keep myself happy, so somewhere in S3. It's something that would never fit within the actual story because it's pure domestic fluff. lol I wrote this for @recyclingss, baby Eve's number one fan who yells at me when the child doesn't make an appearance and who’s also the biggest cheerleader this story’s ever had. 💖

This is set much later in the future, and you will notice baby Eve is actually more of toddler Eve here, but I've removed any specific context to make it so this would fit into any point of The Wolf post S2E14, I guess.

Summary: Just random KC+baby moment in The Wolf. It's fluffy, domestic, features the child and Klaus' bitter feelings for Bayou wolves. Nobody asked for it, but I figured, after the WEEK we've all had, maybe people could use some fluff? Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

______________________

Klaus doesn't even realize it's morning already until Caroline stirs next to him, making a lazy hum deep in her throat that pulls him out of his idle reverie. He blinks his surroundings back into focus; the fluorescence that had been filtering in through the windows last time he checked has now been replaced by warm sunlight. He didn’t even notice so much time had gone by.

Caroline rolled onto her side and was quickly lulled into blissful sleep after their late-night exertions. Klaus was distracted by the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest for a long time until his mind was ensnared by its usual culprits, thoughts trapped in the latest batch of torments and woes to take over the Mikaelsons’ lives. 

 When Caroline opens her eyes and offers him a slow smile, Klaus feels himself touch ground again.

 "'Morning," she slurs in that husky voice, still thick with sleep.

 "Good morning, sweetheart," he replies with a short grin.

 Caroline yawns as she stretches out her body under the thin sheet covering her modesty.

 "Did you sleep at all?" she asks, blinking sluggishly at him.

 "I'm well-rested, if that's what you're asking."

 "It's not." Caroline props herself up on one elbow to stare levelly at him. Some of that drowsiness in her eyes dissipates, disappointment panging through him for bringing her back to the harshness of reality so fast. This is why, sometimes, especially on those not-so-rare nights when he ends up not getting any sleep, he'd rather not stay in bed. It allows the reprieve that slumber offers Caroline to last a little while longer. "Is it about Elijah?" she inquires, a knowing look on her face.

 Klaus' eyes wander away from hers. "It's about everything," he states vaguely, but not untruthfully. 

 Caroline hums unconvinced. "While I know you don't need to sleep, I also know it spells nothing but trouble when you can’t. It’s never good when you spend the whole night thinking."

 "Well, not the whole night," he says with a suggestive leer. "I did spend a good portion of the time engaged in far more pleasant activities."

 She rolls her eyes at him, but her smile is more than a little satisfied when she leans into him. "You're not as smooth as you think, Mikaelson."

 "I beg to differ." Caroline chuckles, shifting under the sheets to press herself against his side, placing a kiss on his shoulder, then his neck, his jaw. Klaus snakes a hand around her back, pulling her closer still, feeling the familiar stirrings of heat in his underbelly. "Shall I prove my point?" he all but purrs.

 Caroline smirks against the corner of his mouth, her palm coming to rest on his chest. Klaus covers her hand with his, angling his face to take her mouth into a kiss. Her breasts pressing against his skin sends a tingle shooting through his body, and his other hand is already sliding down her spine, ready to guide her to straddle him, when lively conversation in the next room makes them pause.

 "Oh-oh," Caroline mutters. "I guess that means Mr. Wolfy is up early today."

 Klaus lets out a disappointed sigh.

 Eve doesn't cry so much when she wakes up anymore. Now, she either stays quietly in her crib until someone sees to her, or she starts playing with her toys. A social butterfly like her mother, she loves to engage in complex conversations with that hideous stuffed wolf Jackson gave her and her absolute favorite toy, the wooden knight Klaus carved for Rebekah when they were children.

 When he started to wake up to the sound of her talking to herself, he became worried, thinking maybe she was seeing things they weren't - which, in New Orleans, could mean a number of horrifying deals. But Caroline assured him that it is perfectly normal for young children to talk to inanimate objects, especially one who lives exclusively amongst adults.

 Apparently, it's good exercise for her imagination, or something.

 When Klaus is watching her, he will make a point to take part in her debates, always highlighting Mr. Knight's grandeur compared to Mr. Bog Scum. 

 "Sweetheart, this filthy dog here is the enemy. He wants to shroud you in flannel, carry you away to the swamp and bore you to sleep. Mr. Knight is here to save you from this stinky animal's claws."

 He's convinced one day she'll understand what he means.

 What’s most troublesome, however, is that Eve has started to attempt to climb out of her crib on her own. They always lock the other door to her bedroom when she's asleep, but the door connecting her room to Caroline's is always left unlocked for safety reasons. One of these days, Klaus thinks, their little wolf is going to catch mommy and daddy in very compromising positions. The idea mortifies him, especially because he and Caroline can get a tad carried away. They are a hybrid and a near-hybrid, after all. Too much energy and whatnot.

 "No rest for the wicked," Caroline speaks around a sigh before peeling away from him. Klaus watches her naked form with wistfulness as she climbs out of bed, his prospect of a lovely morning enterprise disappearing alongside the shape of her beautiful breasts as she shrugs on a fleece robe.

 Caroline vamps off to the en suite bathroom to freshen up a bit and then follows to Eve's room.

 "Good morning, sweet cheeks!" she greets their daughter sunnily. "Good morning to you, too, Mr. Wolfy!" Oh, for goodness' sake, Klaus curses inwardly. "And Mr. Knight!" Much better.

 Minutes later, Caroline returns with Eve, comfortable in fresh diapers, right on her heels, carrying Mr. Inconvenient and Mr. Knight.

 When she sees Klaus, she takes off towards the bed, her little legs getting more and more agile by the day. He pulls the sheets and covers up to his chest while she tries to hoist herself up. With ease, using just one hand, Klaus lifts her up and puts her sitting on his stomach.

 "Good morning, my littlest wolf," he says. "Where's my kiss?"

 His daughter leans down and smacks a loud kiss on his cheek, and then holds Mr. Fleabag close to him for a kiss as well. Klaus makes a face. "Not the dog, Eve."

 "Seriously?" Caroline says with a bored air about her. "You're antagonizing a stuffed animal now?"

 "This thing is a health hazard."

 "That thing has a cute little name, Mr. Wolfy, and your daughter loves him."

 "I refuse to treat a swamp dog as though it were a gentleman. Besides, I'm sure she loves Mr. Knight way more, don't you, love? Where's Mr. Hero?" She shouts something that sounds like Miter Nigh before pushing it onto Klaus' face. He cracks a proud smile at her. "There you go." He attacks her with tickles, and Eve bursts with sweet laughter.

 Caroline shakes her head at him, but he notices she's quite clearly biting back on a smile. "You're impossible."

 "I’m quite possible, I assure you," he replies smoothly. "Where are you going?" he asks when she starts tying her hair into a ponytail and taking clothes from her drawers.

 "Running with Marcel."

 "Oh, for goodness' sake," he protests. "Can you believe this, Eve? It's not even seven in the morning and your mother is willingly stepping out of the house to run. I sometimes fear she might be a psychopath."

 She scoffs loudly. "You would know, wouldn't you?" While she walks by him to go into the en suite, she slaps him lightly across the legs. "Stop telling my child that I'm a psycho, psycho."

 "How else am I supposed to explain this insanity? What kind of person runs for pleasure when there is an infinite array of far more gratifying activities to invest your energy into? Just now we were about to -"

 "Not in front of the small child, Klaus!" she chides from the bathroom.

 "She doesn't know what daddy is talking about, do you, love?" Eve giggles while he lifts her up above him, holding her like a flying superhero. "Blissfully clueless."

 Caroline steps back into the room, already in her exercise gear. Klaus lets out an infinitely despondent sigh. He would love nothing more than to get her out of those.

 "It's inappropriate conversation to have in front of the toddler," she remarks, putting on the smartwatch she bought recently to exercise with and measure her sleep patterns or whatever the bloody hell that is. She showed him all of this gizmo’s functionalities, swearing it’s the best thing ever invented by human minds. Klaus thinks it’s adorable, however incomprehensible, that someone with such close ties with the supernatural world would still be so impressed by technology. There’s literally nothing that cannot be sorted through magic. How is a watch that counts steps supposed to awe you once you’ve seen someone brought back from the dead? Caroline’s attachment to her humanity goes way beyond her empathy. "Besides, it was gonna be a quick activity because I'd go meet Marcel anyway,” she adds after a beat.

 "I can make you see stars in five minutes," he leers, a smirk growing on his face.

 Caroline whips her face at him with what is clearly an attempt at outrage but turns into something else when she can't hold her own smile. She can't deny him when his point was proved just the night before. Several times, in fact.

 "Shut up," she retorts simply. "Can you give her breakfast? I left chopped fruits in the fridge. You can wait about an hour after the bottle and give it to her as a little treat - not Fruit Loops."

 "She loves that thing."

 "Of course she does, it's pure sugar. That's exactly why we don't let her have it all the time. She needs to eat real fruits."

 Klaus rolls his eyes, sitting up in bed and putting the baby beside him. "Honestly, sweetheart, your mother sometimes..." 

 Caroline narrows her eyes at him. "You really love to make yourself out to be the cool parent, don't you?"

 "I don't have to make myself out to be anything, love. I am the parent who doesn't deny her the little joys of sugary treats. If that makes me cool, then you’ve only got yourself to blame." 

 "You're the parent who'll spoil her rotten, that’s what. Let's see how you'll feel when she's 16 and her boyfriend is climbing the balcony in her room in the middle of the night because she never learned how to take a no."

 "Oh, I would love for her suitors to climb her window in the middle of the night. It’ll be the last thing they do,” he says, smiling innocently at Eve.

 “You’ll be such a ray of sunshine when she starts dating.”

 “As per usual," he says with a bite of arrogance. "Hold the child so I can get decent, will you?"

 Caroline picks Eve up and keeps her looking firmly the other way while Klaus flashes out of bed and into the bathroom. He hears Caroline teasing her with “Where did daddy go?” and laughing at what he knows is Eve's extremely confused but astonished face. She thinks they're magicians. It's one of her favorite things, to watch as Klaus makes full use of his vampire speed to all but vanish right before her eyes. Modern technology has got nothing on him.

 There's something extremely heartwarming about his daughter's innocence. One day, she'll be old enough to understand why he can do the things he does. When that day comes, Klaus will cease to be a creature of magic and wonder, to become what he truly is: darkness made flesh. 

 He has never been ashamed of what he is, hardly ever had any qualms with filling the villain shoes, quite glad to do it, in fact, but he suddenly finds himself dreading the day when his child will figure out what it means to carry the Mikaelson name. When their family’s history will weigh down on her shoulders as it does on theirs.

 While making people cower in fear at the mere sound of his name has brought him an obscene amount of satisfaction and pride over the centuries, Klaus has to admit he's fascinated by the pure sparkle in his child's eyes. She's the first human being in a millennium who does not see even a fraction of monstrosity in him, no shadow, no taints, no mortal flaws. Not yet, anyway. All she sees is a funny man who makes her laugh and can hold her up with his finger, tells her stories about evil werewolves and keeps her safe and that's enough for her to adore him. Sometimes, he feels unworthy of such love. As though he's a fraud, deceiving his own daughter and taking advantage of her innocence.

 It still astonishes him that he should ever be capable of making something as pure and bright as that little girl. In a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson has only ever brought misery and pain into this world. Eve is the first genuinely good thing he's ever done. Then, of course, she inherited all of that from her mother, who holds herself open for compassion and kindness even though she is herself in a symbiotic existence with her own beast. Caroline has taken control of her darkness in ways Klaus doesn't think he's ever seen a vampire as young as her do before. She truly is extraordinary, and every day he hopes, from the bottom of his withered heart, that Eve will turn out to be every inch Caroline's daughter more so than his.

 Klaus can still smell last night’s sex all over himself, so he takes a quick shower and puts on a pair of denims and a shirt and vamps back to the room again, just to surprise Eve. She gasps when he materializes next to her, flinching, and then starts laughing like a little maniac, reaching out to him. 

 "Remember," Caroline says as she lets Eve slide over to Klaus' arms. "Bottle, fruits. No Fruit Loops. I'll tell your other child you said hi."

 "A child who enjoys running has clearly learned nothing from me," he grumbles. “Hopefully I’ll do a better job with this one.” 

 “Start by not feeding her Fruit Loops,” Caroline remarks with a grin before she smacks a loud kiss on Eve's cheek and then one on his.

 When she’s gone, Klaus turns to look at his little wolf, watching him with those dark blues of hers as though she's studying her father. Sometimes he wonders if toddlers know more than they let on.

 "Do you want to do magic?"

 "Yes!" she practically screams, her face splitting with a wide, toothy grin.

 "Get ready, then. Are you ready?" She gives him an exaggerated nod. "Keep your eyes open. One, two..." And then he flashes out of the room with her.

______________

✨ Thanks for reading! :) If you’ve enjoyed this silly thing, please drop me a comment! Your reblogs are also much appreciated to help this reach more people. ✨

[blu-archer]

Warmth

Hi... So, It’s 00:44. I should be editing photo’s for the day a head but I did this instead. I really shouldn’t have but... it happened... (If there’s grammatical errors... this is why.. forgive me.)

Because procrastination has just kind of merged itself as a part of my very soul and essence as a human being at this point. 

This is just a short thing to be honest, and its technically a ‘sick/snz’ thing, but really it felt really short and comes across as more as a comfort, small filler type thing... but it was fun to write sooooo anyway..

enjoy I guess

Caretaker: ???Jimin/Jin?? I don’t really know 

Sickie: Yoongi

word count: 2568.

.

.

“Huh’ishh… snf… Huh’ihishew… huh’igxnsh!”

“You sneeze one more time and I’m sending you home.” Jin said warningly from his seat at the front desk.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, merely sniffling until he could get the chance to blow his nose. He didn’t remember the stores shelves being this dusty, but perhaps Namjoon just hadn’t had time to clean up while Yoongi had been away. He’ll have to do a deep clean once his magic has rested enough to manage it.

“I’m serious Yoon.”

“Jin. You don’t work here.” Yoongi replied dryly, not sparing the elder a glance. “and I own this business. You can’t send me home for sneezing.”

“You own half this business.” Jin corrected, clicking away at the latch on his pen as he stared through the gaps in the shelves at where Yoongi rubbed at his nose before putting up more jarred charms. “and I am married to the owner of the other half, which means I am also the owner of the other half.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It does. You wouldn’t know because you haven’t married Jimin yet. What’s mine is Joon’s and what’s Joon’s is mine.” Jin grinned teasingly.

Yoongi knew that he was mostly joking, just twisting things to get his way, but it was still somewhat relevant in some areas. Namjin was a typical ‘we’ couple the second after Jin had gotten Namjoon to love him more than his plants, which honestly hadn’t been that difficult.  

“Does that mean that Namjoon can go treat kids at the school, like you. You’re the nurse right.. does that mean Namjoon has the same qualifications?” Yoongi asked, his words laced with building congestion.

“Don’t make jokes like that. Joon would never be able to manage working with children, no matter how much he loves them.” Jin shook his head. “Poor baby would be so terrified of hurting them or something, probably wouldn’t be able to put up with half the rascals I have to deal with. Teenagers are the worst, and when it comes to creating excuses to get out of class... don’t get me started.”

 Yoongi joined him by the desk, having finished most of the restocking of the shelves. It was technically supposed to be Jin’s day off from work – which usually meant that Namjoon would call in for the day off as well, but they had had a last minute call pleading for someone to come charm and heal sections of a park that had been set a light a few days prior, and well… Namjoon wasn’t going to decline that. He had even taken Taehyung with him. Hopefully nothing gets set on fire again.

But that meant that Jin had welcomed himself to lurking around the store, “helping” Yoongi with the daily routine and customers. Helping had turned into pestering very quickly.

“This is proof that it’s not true then.” Yoongi shrugged, reaching for a serviette that had come with the lunch Jin had ordered in to blow his nose.

He pointedly chose to ignore the exasperated look that flashed across Seokjin’s face.

“How’s Jimin?” Jin’s tone wasn’t as curious as the question posed. “Still sick?”

Yoongi refused to meet the witches gaze as he cleared his throat and reached for his iced coffee. It was more like watered down coffee now, but he required any form of caffeine that he could get.

“He’s still a little sick, but he’s going back to work tomorrow.” Yoongi pursed his lips as he thought back to when Jimin had told him the day before.

The hybrid had put a real fight when Yoongi had suggested to take another few days to rest. One would have thought he had told Jimin to quit or something. He understood his boyfriends need and passion to do his job, but from what Hoseok had mentioned to him, it was precisely the fact that Jimin worked too hard that got him into the mess he had been in any way. He just wanted to make sure that his boyfriend was taking enough time to recuperate.

“You don’t think that maybe… he shared?”

“What?”

“Yoongi..” Jin sighed. “Your nose is red. You’ve been coughing and sniffling all morning. You also haven’t taken off Jimin’s hoodie – which you usually do before opening because you don’t like mixing potions and other peoples’ scents over his, and don’t even try to tell me that your voice hasn’t been cracking since you entered that door.”

Yoongi looked away, taking another sip of his drink. “Could be allergies. ‘s dusty…”

Jin didn’t even have to say anything. His deadpan expression and tightly drawn lips told Yoongi enough about what the elder thought of that suggestion.

Maybe he was getting sick. After all, he and Jimin hadn’t exactly worked hard to prevent any contagion – especially after Yoongi had convinced the younger to let him be more helpful in all matters of care. It would actually make a lot of sense, but he couldn’t bring himself to want to acknowledge it. Jimin would feel so bad if he knew that he’d gotten the warlock sick, especially if it happened right before he had agreed to return from sick leave.

“I can’t go home. Jimin will feel guilty.”

“That is stupid reasoning.” Jin pulled a disapproving face. He looked at his friend, then shook his head. “I’m being serious Yoongi. You should rest now before it gets worst. We can close the shop for the day, Namjoon can continue tomorrow like he has been and Jimin would feel better knowing that you didn’t try hide this from him. You know that he will see you not telling him as some sort of annoying guilt thing. Don’t make a small thing big. He’ll probably be so happy to do whatever you young couples do now days again.”

Yoongi grimaced but didn’t waste the energy on commenting on Jin’s overly wistful words. Rather he put his mind to the customer that had just warily entered the store. He wasn’t going home. He had made up his mind and nothing Jin could say would change it.

**

“Kit’en?” Yoongi snuffled wetly.

Groaning and clearing his throat as he locked the front door behind him. He was about to call again when a deep, congested sneeze ripped through his throat – much louder and harsher than he liked. He really shouldn’t have stayed the full working day. He should have accepted Namjoon’s offer to have him just continue working the store for today and onwards, but if Yoongi was anything – it was stubborn. Of course he regretted it now though.

He walked into the kitchen and swallowed some of the medicine Jimin had been taking before he went to find the hybrid, who had remained silent. It was a bit odd that he hadn’t replied when Yoongi called, but it wasn’t rare enough for him to be overly concerned. Just curious…

It was when he couldn’t find Jimin in any of the rooms that his worry began to rise.

He called out again as he quickly paced through their cottage, being met by nothing but silence. He even tried to call but following the muffled ringing of Jimin’s phone lead him to their rumpled, vacant bed. In a final moment of panic, he called forth his magic, letting the icy chill of it flood throughout his body until a blast of wind shot off of him with staggering force. Usually he wouldn’t use his magic so raw, much rather preferring to have a physical object to make the effects easier to deal with, a skill that had been adapted centuries before from witches to fit a warlocks needs without the risk of magic drainage, but he didn’t stop for a moment to think. The magic had left him so abruptly that he had to lay a steadying hand on the wall while he breathed icy white breaths for the brief moment until the surged wave returned to him with just as much impact as it had left him with, causing him to break out coughing for air while the room tilted and swayed beneath his feet before returning to its previous temperature and stability.

Jimin was outside… in Yoongi’s studio?

That couldn’t be right. Jimin didn’t really go to the studio unless Yoongi was there. In fact, he was sure Jimin had told him that he didn’t like the studio space at all – something about there being too many scents.

Why would he be there now?

 He took a second to catch his breath before he went on his search. His nose had just started to run, and no amount of sniffling was going to help him. His head pounded against the cold, but he ignored it as best as he could.

None of it mattered.

What mattered was that it was cold. His studio specifically was always cold to a degree, and Jimin was uncharacteristically in there.

 “Love?” Yoongi called as loud as he could as soon as he passed the entrance, his voice cracking over the single word.

“ ‘oongi?”

Yoongi came to an abrupt halt just outside of the tiny, makeshift library that he stored all of his spell books in to see the familiar form of his boyfriend curled up on the oval windowsill with a blanket and pillow tucked around him as the dying sunlight painted his skin.

His hair was a mess and he swiped at his mouth and eyes languidly as a yawn broke widely across his face.

“Hey.” Jimin greeted with a warm lazy smile. “Good day?”

“It could have been better.” Yoongi answered honestly, moving into the small space so that he could wrap his arms around Jimin. The hybrid jumped at the icy feel of his skin. “I thought you didn’t like my studio.”

“It grew on me. Was the only thing that strongly smelt like you for a while, so it became more comfortable for me…Why are you so cold, what happened?”

Yoongi shrugged, his cheeks warming has he realised his actions may have been a bit impatient. There were other spells that he could have used, weaker ones that relied on words and physical additives rather than actual core magic, which would have left him with more energy and just overall less affected. He’d been unnecessarily rash.

He sunk his face into the hybrids chest, somewhat admitting defeat while forcing the younger to be pushed up tightly against the window as he was embraced. He felt fingers run through his hair and an ill-timed cough shook his entire frame. Jimin froze and Yoongi caved with two soft words. “I’m … sick.”

“Oh, baby…”

He felt Jimin card his fingers through his hair again, harder this time, letting his nails scrape lightly against the Warlock’s sculp as he held him close. Yoongi took as deep a breath as he dared. He couldn’t smell the usual spicy aroma that hung around the younger, but he melted into the bundle of warmth that was Jimin, succumbing rather easily to the uncomfortably angled yet intimate embrace.

“I’m so sorry I got you sick… we should have been more careful.”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi said, his voice muffled before he pushed away from Jimin so that he wasn’t bent in an awkward standing/leaning position any longer. “I was more worried about you, but you look better.”

“I feel better, mostly. There are still moments when I feel bad, but it’s a big.. improvement…” Jimin yawned, pulling his blanket up to smother it, then chuckled as Yoongi broke into a mirroring action, sniffling and resting lazily against his bookshelf afterwards.  “We should probably head inside now. Get something in you before we go to bed.”

Jimin gradually got to his feet, stumbling a bit as he stretched before opening his blanket to properly engulf Yoongi in its warmth with him. Jimin could feel a bundle of heaviness, completely unrelated to his cold, settle in his chest as he listened to Yoongi sniffle thickly on their way back into the house – making a quick dash when they had to cross yard with the cooling breeze. The warlock had a lot to catch up on in terms of his work and this was quite obviously going to set him back a bit further.

Not that he seemed to mind.

Jimin seemed to be more stressed than his boyfriend about the matter. To compensate for resulting in getting Yoongi sick he had tried to collect a bunch of blankets and soft materials that he had scattered around the house during the day, working to make a more comfortable setting for Yoongi in their room once he had gotten the warlock to lie down there. He had successfully gathered water and at least three of the fluffiest blankets they owned before Yoongi had him trapped beneath him against the mattress.

The warlock had distracted him from his coddling after sneezing openly to the side with enough force that Jimin had reached out to steady his seated figure with concern, only to be tugged onto the bed and rolled on top of with the accompaniment of all of the blankets he’d piled on the elder moments before. He had wanted to complain, that he needed to make food for them or to get them the medicine, even if Yoongi had mentioned that he’d already taken something – or at the very least more tissues, because they’d definitely be needed those. Yet Yoongi had merely rested his cheek against Jimin’s shoulder, sniffling into the base of the hybrids neck while he wrapped his arms tightly around the dancers frame.

“Yoon… you need food…”

“ ‘need you.” Yoongi whispered lowly, yawning into Jimin’s chest. “I missed you today… just… just stay. Please.”

Jimin snuggled down, embracing the warlock as entirely as he could. Their limbs becoming a mesh between the blankets. If this was the comfort that his boyfriend needed, then who was he to protest?

Even as Yoongi drifted off to sleep, the ice that had filled his veins from earlier thawed with the warmth that bled through him by the mere presence of the Calico cat. The dying sunlight still blared down on them, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. If anything, it helped in making the pair sleepier. Jimin rubbed his nose through Yoongi hair and down over his cheek, pressing soft lips to the elders temple, then his cheek, then nose.

Yoongi squirmed and let out an amused groan, pushing Jimin away before pulling him close once more. He’d never get used to the effect that Jimin had on him. How a simple gesture made him feel as if he could wield all the magic in the world. He’d tried to explain the empowering feeling before, but he had never been able to put it into words.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin whispered, pressing a final kiss to Yoongi’s head. Although his tone had dipped into the same seriousness from before. Then in an even softer voice, he added. “Love you, Yoongi… ”

Yoongi was already half asleep, his body giving in after the events of his day, but the tender words pushed him further. He slipped into a dark content sleep, filled with that familiar warmth and spicy scent that he had grown to depend on.

He’d let out a soft sigh, barely catching Jimin’s final words of ‘rest well’ before he was completely submerged into his dreams.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Tuesday: Crossing The River

note: here we go, part two of my 'A week with Chris' drabble series (part one here) again, COVID doesn’t exist bc this is my escape from reality

I wrote a bit more today. enjoy :)

words: 1.2 k

warnings: none

(Monday, 8:33 pm)

Hi, this is Chris. Meet me tomorrow morning, 9:30 am, at NY City Hall. I’ll bring coffee, you bring your walking shoes. I’ll see you there.

+++

(Tuesday)

Getting up at 8 am wasn’t exactly your preference when you had a day off, but the way to City Hall took its time, especially considering the location of your apartment in Upper Manhattan.

You walked the short distance from the metro station, and when you arrived, Chris was already waiting for you. He was bundled up in a coat to fight off the chilly morning air. You had never seen him in anything else than his work attire so at first, you were a bit perplexed, it was almost like witnessing an animal in the wild. Still, he looked rather cute, but what looked even better were the steaming cups of coffee he was holding.

“Good morning.” You greeted him, stifling a yawn and grabbing the offered drink. You gulped down two huge sips, without caffeine you weren’t a good company at all in the morning.

“Not an early riser, huh?” Chris laughed. “Don’t worry, my plans for today will wake you up in no time.”

“So, where are we going?” You asked, feeling slightly more present now, the coffee and fresh air had done the trick.

“You and I.” Chris said. “Are going to cross the East River. We have this really nice thing called the Brooklyn Bridge, maybe you’ve heard of it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, he was being rather cheeky considering the early hour.

“Very funny. Doesn’t that take forever.” You groaned. Walking wasn’t your number one hobby, and from where you were standing now, Brooklyn looked like it was an eternity away.

“It takes about an hour, each way.” Chris replied, and as he saw your shocked expression, he continued “Come on, that’s no distance at all! We can take a break once were on the other side, and then we go back. The way back is much more impressive because your facing the skyline.“

So he was planning on doing both ways. Great. Accepting your faith, you quickly emptied your coffee, silently praying that the walking shoes you had chosen were as comfortable as they looked.

+++

The walk was actually really enjoyable. There was soft spring breeze in the air and the sun was shining, creating bright reflections on the East River below you. You took several stops to take pictures, and Chris even reluctantly agreed to pose for a selfie.

You were talking animatedly about everything and anything, falling into a slow, but steady pace next to each other. Chris was still slightly annoyed about having to take the entire week off, but you tried to cheer him up.

“Look on the bright side, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy this beautiful day in such great company if you had to do the show tonight.” You joked, and he smiled down at you.

“I have to admit, the company is pretty good.”

Your heart did a little jump at his words.

+++

After fifty minutes, you arrived at the Brooklyn-sided exit of the bridge. Chris led you down the pedestrian walkway and around some corners, until you arrived in a beautiful park located directly at the waterfront.

“And this.” Chris exclaimed. “Is what we came for.”

You knew exactly what he meant. Stretched out before you was the most beautiful, picturesque view of the Manhattan skyline you had ever seen.

“This looks like a damn postcard.” You whispered, more to yourself, but Chris heard you anyway, laughing in agreement.

“It’s the best perspective you’ll get. I love the skyline; every building has a story.” He replied, looking across the river with an almost wistful expression on his face.

“Come on then, Mr. Tour Guide, I walked all the way here, now I want to hear some of those stories.”

“You’re quite demanding.” He chuckled. “Alright. You see the grey, slim one over there.” Your eyes followed to where his finger was pointing.

“That’s 8 Spruce Street.“ he explained. "They built it in 2011, there are apartments in there, offices, even a school and a kindergarten. Imagine, the kids don’t even need to leave the house.” He grinned at his own joke.

You studied the skyscraper, and the way the sunlight got reflected by its countless windows. “It’s beautiful.”

Chris shrugged. “To me, it’s cold. It has no personality, no history. If you look a bit more to the left, the white one with the green roof? That’s the Woolworth building, it got built in 1913. Back then, the owner paid the whole 13,5 million bucks for the project in cash, imagine that. It’s neo-gothic, if we were closer I could show you all the little details on the facade. See, that’s the kind of architecture I like. I hate how they’re plastering the city with those soulless glass towers. But I guess that’s the course of time.”

Both of you were silent for a second, and you looked at Chris before bursting into an uncontrolled fit of giggles.

“Oh my god, you just sounded like such an old man, I am so sorry.” You snickered, trying to stop laughing.

Chris gave you a hard glare, and for a moment you felt dread in your stomach, fearing that you might have offended him.

“Oh my god, Chris, I’m so-“

He grinned at you. “Gotcha. Come on, how about the old man buys you some ice cream before we head back?”

“Ice cream in March? You’re mad.”

+++

“Oh my God, Y/N, stop nagging, we’re almost there.” Chris called over his shoulder to where you were dragging several feet behind him.

“I can’t.” You whimpered. “It hurts.”

Your originally comfortable walking shoes had turned into an absolute nightmare about halfway across the bridge. You were sure that by now there were several blisters on your feet, every step was painful like hell and you still had about half a mile to go.

“We can’t just stop here.” Chris groaned, looking at you with a mix of annoyance and pity. “I parked my car at City Hall, can you make it there somehow?”

“I don’t know.” You said through clenched teeth as you tried to take another step.

“There’s only one way then.” Chris sighted heavily, taking a step closer and crouched down in front of you.

“What are you waiting for, hop on.” He said.

You almost couldn’t believe what he was implying.

“You want to take me piggyback?”

"Do you have a better idea?“

You didn’t, and so you carefully climbed onto his back, trying to ignore the funny looks the other pedestrians were giving you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you were surprised how broad and muscular they felt.

Your initial embarrassment about the situation quickly faded as Chris continued to talk to you as if everything was perfectly normal, something you were incredibly grateful for.

He carried you effortlessly, his steps didn’t waver even once. You were impressed and also a little bit turned on by his strength, trying to ignore the warm tingling feeling at where his huge hands were holding onto your legs.

+++

“Alright, here we are. Get some rest, and I’ll text you again tonight.” Chris spoke as he pulled up in front of your apartment building.

“Thanks again, for the ride, and well, everything.” You said, still a bit embarrassed about what had happened earlier.

Chris just shrugged, giving you a warm smile.

“Don’t worry, it was no big deal.”

You spent the rest of your evening cooling your blisters, excited about what the plan for tomorrow would be, and even more to see Chris again.

to be continued…

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Of All The Coffee Shops

Summary: After arriving in a cursed Hyperion Heights with all her memories in tact, Belle sets about trying to find Rumpel. As it is, he finds her... 

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling January random prompt: “Of all the gin joints...”

Rated: G

Of All The Coffee Shops

Of all the gin joints in all the world, he had to walk into mine.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t all the world, it was just Hyperion Heights, and it was a coffee shop rather than a gin joint, but other than that, the quote held true. Unfortunately ‘of all the coffee shops in all of Hyperion Heights’ didn’t have quite the same ring to it so Belle decided to stick with the original quote.

And unlike the wistful Rick of Casablanca, Belle was incredibly pleased that the person in question had walked into her not-gin joint, because she had been looking for him ever since she had first woken up in Hyperion Heights having, only a few short seconds prior, been in the Enchanted Forest.

She wasn’t sure how long that they had been in Hyperion Heights before she had woken up to her true identity, but if the spell had taken as it should, then it wouldn’t have been very long. It shouldn’t have been any time at all, really.

It had been a risky manoeuvre, trying the spell so close to the curse’s arrival at their doorstep, and they knew that there was only enough magic in the potion for one of them to remember when they arrived at whatever destination the curse took them to. They’d already had to use some of it in order to get a message to Gideon at Elphame, warning him what was happening closer to home and instructing him not to worry and under no circumstances to try and mount a life or death rescue mission to bring his parents back to the Enchanted Forest; that they were taking precautions and they would get there in their own time.

Of course, Belle knew their son and she knew that their family had borne so many cruel separations over time and distance that sending the message would have been completely pointless and he’d be working on some kind of scheme even now, but she’d had to at least try and do the most responsible and motherly thing even though it would ultimately be useless.

When she had woken up on that first morning in Hyperion Heights with a second identity living at the back of her mind, that of Izzie Schwarz who worked at the Sleepless Beauty coffee shop, three doors down from the police precinct, then she knew that she was the one the spell had worked for, and she knew that it was up to her to set everything right. There might not be anyone else in town who remembered. Rumpel certainly would not have remembered.

But if anyone could make him remember, Belle figured that she had the best chance.

All she had to do was find him.

She knew that it was too much to hope that perhaps this new curse, created by a new witch who was not at all acquainted with Rumpel, would have seen fit to turn him back into Mr Gold and she would find a convenient pawn shop somewhere along the road, and she knew that she couldn’t be too overt in her queries lest the Belfreys realise what she was up to and do something to make her forget everything. That would have been a terrible waste of the hard-won magic.

As it was, she hadn’t had to search very far, for on the second morning of her stay in Hyperion Heights, Rumpel had walked into her coffee shop.

A small part of Belle hoped that by some miracle, he would recognise her and even if the spell hadn’t worked to make him remember fully like she did, the mere sight of her would be enough to jog his memory and wake him up to the reality of their new cursed world. The brightness of her optimism in such a thought was so strong that she was positively beaming at him by the time he came up to the counter, and in doing so, seemed to alarm him rather.

There was, sadly, no trace of recognition in his face, just wariness at how interminably cheerful this barista was at a completely unreasonable hour of the morning.

“Welcome to Sleepless Beauty, my name’s Izzie, what can I get for you? We have a special on breakfast pastries on Monday mornings.”

Rumpel – well, he was not technically Rumpel at the moment, but she had no idea what his name actually was here yet – shook his head.

“No thank you. Just coffee. Large. Black.”

“Coming right up.” Belle grabbed a takeaway cup. “Can I take a name please?”

“Weaver.”

“First name?”

Weaver raised an eyebrow at her. “Detective.”

Belle had to turn away to the coffee machine at that point to hide her smile. It seemed that the mysterious Mr Gold of no first name had at least carried that tradition through into the new curse. Perhaps that was something in the very fabric of the curse itself that wouldn’t give him a name no matter what the caster might want it to do. After all, names had power, and Rumpel was definitely one to know and abide by that rule. Maybe it was such a power that no name could stick to him in the cursed world.

She poured his coffee from the filter jug and pressed the lid on before ringing it up and handing it over. Weaver muttered his thanks and turned away without another word, but he did leave a generous tip in her jar.

Once he had gone, Belle let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. For a moment, she was incredibly disappointed. Although she knew that love – and more importantly remembrance – at first sight was a bit of a stretch even for her, she’d still held out that hope.

At least she knew that he was definitely here now, and she knew his name, and if he was a detective (which she was fairly certain of considering the badge on his belt), then she could be confident that he was only a few doors down the street from her.

All Belle needed now was a plan to make him remember. For the rest of the day, in between serving customers and heating breakfast pastries, she tried to think of the best way of going about that.

Everyone knew that True Love’s Kiss was the best way to break any curse and the only sure-fire method to do so, but that wouldn’t work, since Rumpel was Weaver and she was Izzie and there were no finer feelings between them at all. It would be a very long game to try and make Rumpel fall in love with her all over again, and if they were going to get to the bottom of this curse and break it for the rest of the town, then time was of the essence.

On the other hand, though…

It was coming up to closing time, stacking chairs on tables, mopping the floor, and Belle was in a little world of her own, fondly remembering the strange little courtship that she and Rumpel had shared in the Dark Castle, leading up to that dramatic and ill-fated True Love’s kiss. They had fallen in love with each other without even really realising what they were doing, although looking back, there were so many moments where it would have been blindingly obvious to an outside observer that they were completely, head-over-heels smitten with each other. Listening to the tales of their relationship and all its ups and downs, and how they had finally come to be together forever, had been one of Gideon’s favourite things when he had been a child. The number of times that he had interrupted the story to exasperate that neither of them had properly realised their feelings or talked about them had become a running joke among the three of them, with Gideon’s main complaint being that if Belle and Rumpel had just talked to each other honestly a bit more, then he would have been born ages ago and they could have saved themselves a lot of trouble.

It was true, but it had still tugged at Belle’s heartstrings to hear their mistakes laid out so plainly by such an innocent mind.

She was startled out of her reverie as the doorbell chimed, looking up to see Weaver entering the shop again. He stopped short on seeing that she was mopping, not wanting to step on her handiwork.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she called over to him.

“I know. I just…” He paused, shaking his head, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say what he was about to say. “This is going to sound stupid, but have we met before?”

“We met this morning,” Belle teased. “I served you your coffee.”

Weaver rolled his eyes. “I mean before that. I’m certain that I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Belle stopped her movement, leaning on her mop and studying him carefully. Whereas before his expression had been somewhat wary of her exuberance, now his brow was furrowed in confusion, looking for a memory that simply wouldn’t – or couldn’t – bring itself to the surface. She knew that she was going to have to tread very carefully to avoid frightening him off. How much information should she share? If she launched straight into telling him about the curse then he’d think that she was completely mad.

“We live in the same town,” she said, keeping her voice measured. “We work on the same street. I’m sure we must have seen each other in passing before.”

Weaver shook his head. “No. I’m sure it’s more than that. I’m sure… I know this sounds crazy… I’m sure I know you from somewhere.”

Belle allowed herself a little smile.

“You do,” she admitted.

“Thank God, I thought I was going mad. Where have we met?”

Belle shook her head. “I don’t think you’re ready to know that just yet. But give it time. I’m sure that it’ll come back to you. And I’m always here to jog your memory.”

Weaver nodded.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I would like that very much, Detective.”

He turned and left the shop, and Belle waited until he was completely out of sight before she did a little victory dance on the spot with her mop.    

She wasn’t going to starting from scratch after all. Even across realms and curses, there was something in her and Rumpel’s love that could still transcend those boundaries and bring them back to each other, and she knew that she was never going to stop fighting for it.

[timeforelfnonsense]

Looking to Make Friends

Dafni x Astarion || T ||  Ao3 ||  Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series 

Some pre relationship fun before any feelings were caught.  Astarion has a pretty good WIS score and with his background, I think he'd be quite good at reading other people. It's interesting to contrast that with Dafni, who is also very perspective but in a very different way. (and they were narrative foils)

Astarion padded along softly behind Dafni, bow drawn and at the ready. He’d offered to help her catch dinner for the party. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t much for hunting. Not with a bow anyway. In truth, he’d followed her out here to pick her brain. He wanted to get the measure of each of his newfound associates and the peculiar cleric seemed the best place to start. She was far and away the most open of the bunch. The rest of their number all carried an air of privacy about them. Dafni, in contrast, was completely transparent or at least presented herself to be. She could also serve as a bridge to gaining the trust of the more discerning among them. She’d already created a respectable rapport with Gale and the pair they’d picked up in the grove, Wyll, and Criella. She’d gone out of her way to offer hospitality and kindness to each person in the party, even those who seemed less than interested in playing nice. 

You do seem the type. Inquisitive. Looking for connection… It’s every man for himself and you are looking to make friends.

The corner his Astarion’s lip turned up. Shadowheart was canny. That much was clear. She was, however, too short-sided to see the benefits of having someone of that sort on her side. Dafni wanted friends and he needed to secure an ally- It was an ideal fit. He’d noticed the way she blushed at his teasing. How eager she was to keep his company. She almost certainly found him attractive. That made things a bit easier at least. 

“Can I confess something to you?” He inquired, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ear, “I asked to tag along because I wanted to spend time with you.” Dafni’s cheeks turned cherry red as he traced the blade of her ear. A coy smile forming across his lips. “Aw, I hope I haven’t embarrassed you. I couldn’t help but overhear the way Shadowheart rebuffed you this afternoon. It’s her loss really if she can’t see what an intriguing woman you are.” 

“I-Thank you, Astarion.” She stammered, tracing a small circle in the dirt with the toe of her boot, “What did you want to know?” 

“Tell me about your life before all of this?” He asked, gesturing to his temple. 

“In the city or before that?” She asked, tilting her head thoughtfully, “I can think of several ways to answer that question.” 

Astarion mulled his response over for a moment. He was curious about her life in the city. Dafni was a creature of the wild through and through. She seemed very much at home among the plants and creatures of the forest. It was hard to picture her strolling about the lower city. But, he’d observed her to be the sentimental sort. An inquiry into her more distant past would yield far more. 

“Tell me about where you grew up?”

He heard her heart give a worrying lurch. Her honey-brown eyes falling to the faded leather of her shoes as the flush that covered her cheeks grew even deeper. That was not the reaction he had been expecting from her. Was she embarrassed? No. Nervous. Her arms crossed over her chest as she let out a rush of air from barely parted lips. 

“Umm- Well, as you might have overheard Criella saying, I’m from the Feywilds originally. I should have told you the truth when you asked about my being from the city. I don’t like lying! Even by omission! I just wanted you to trust me...”

Astarion knew a thing or two about conceding one’s nature. He had to stifle the chuckle building in his chest. It would seem he and lovely little Daffodil had something in common. 

Her reaction had been rather dear. But, the logic did follow. The creatures of Faerie had a certain...Reputation. View by the common folk as at best, fickle, whimsical beings, ruled by emotion and a strange sense of decorum. And at worst as wicked, Unseelie tricksters or hags looking to strike duplicitous bargains. 

She wants to be liked, He thought,  Her reputation is important to her. 

“Think nothing of it!” He soothed with a wave of his hand, “We are all entitled to our little secrets. I’d still like to hear more if you’d be kind enough to indulge me?” 

“Of course!” The tension in her shoulders loosened and she continued, “I’m actually quite proud of my heritage, despite my omission. Of all of the Protectors' children, the eladrin of the Faerie are the most like the first elves that sprung from his blood. The plane of Faerie is magnificent. As close a place to Arvandor, there is. It teems with the most beautiful plants and colorful creatures in all of creation. It is a place of enchantment and wonder, both deadly and delightful. Many creatures who stumble into a crossing by mistake lose their wits to its irresistible splendor but my people, we prosper where others wither.” 

He took note of the way her back straightened when she spoke. Her posture took on an elegance he hadn’t seen in her before. He couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. For all her charity and warmth she still held a small taste of that classic elven haughtiness. Interesting indeed. 

Even more interesting still was the specific pride she took in her ability to survive what overs could not. He was not easily impressed but spirited Dafni had made quite the impression on him. She was tenacious and spirited. She would not surrender herself to their grim fate.

Another similarity. 

 He thought back to their first night in camp, to her girlish snickering at his unease about sleeping outdoors. She had called ‘N'Tel'Que'Tethira’, a city elf. 

But, no sooner than the words left her did a modified expression fall across her pretty round face. Her next sentence had been a string of apologies and assurance she felt no superiority to her city-dwelling cousins. 

Astarion had gathered the fondness she felt for the elves was not limited to her own people but rather all varieties of elves. He’d overhead her with Gale, insisting she was no scholar yet there seemed to be no question of elven lore or history she could not summon at the drop of a pin. He’d not given much thought to his own elveness in quite some time. On the list of things, Astarion was, elf did not fall very high on the ranking of importance. Yet Dafni, from the moment she set eyes on him, saw kin and ally. He’d even seen her extend this esteem to Shadowheart. 

Pride in her culture and people. He’d found another piece of her puzzle. A bit obvious but important nonetheless.

“I was born in the Faerie reflection of the Moonshaes, on the Isle of Gwynneth.” Dafni continued, “In a village called PeleiraI. It was an oasis created by the primal elves who first came to the feywilds after being cast out by Corellon.”

Astarion nodded along as she spoke. He recalled the images that had flashed through his mind upon their first meeting. Tucked away in a forest of mythical beauty, her ‘village’ had been a far cry from the thatched huts and dirt floors the word brought to mind. He’d seen spires and structures of flawless marble reflecting a breathtaking, sunset of burnt orange and vivid violet. The ethereal structures scattered among the woodland didn’t detract from the wild nature of the glen but enhanced it. Appearing as if they had been grown from the earth just the same as the imposing trees that sheltered them. 

“I saw the fleeting image of a settlement when our minds touched. It looked like something out of a fairytale. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He affected his voice, coloring it with wistfulness and awe, “I can only imagine the adventures you got up to there.”

“I did a lot of nothing most days.” She snorted, “Read. Practice medicine or magic. Explore the forest. Pester my older sisters. Maybe a hunt with visiting Seelie knights if I was lucky. I was never really allowed out without my sisters or some sort of escort.” Dafni scoffed the heel of her boot hitting the tree behind her with a soft, repetitive thump. “My mother, Thesmia is our clan’s leader. She’s a well-respected wizard and historian of a sort. I think she knew I was curious about what was on the other side of the mirror so to speak. Gwyneth is littered with fey crossings and she didn’t want me wandering off to the material all alone.” 

She was the sheltered daughter of a noble (or close to it)? Right within his bailiwick! Her story wasn’t an unfamiliar one. Many of his marks in the city had been young lords and ladies smothered by the expectation and duty. All itching for the taste of freedom they were certain they’d find in Astarion’s honeyed words and dark charms. 

This revelation did not yield new information so much as clarify an impression he already had. He’d seen more than her childhood home that day on the beach. The worried face of an otherworldly elven woman and bone aching wanderlust still burned through him when he played the memories over in his head.

“Is that why you left to live with the wood elves?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, “To see this side of the mirror?”

“You remembered?” The flush returned to her cheeks as she fidgeted with the string of her bow.

Astarion smiled his most beguiling smile, “I told you I thought you were intriguing, did I not?”

 “I suppose you did!” She hummed, “Well to answer your question, yes. In apart anyways-'' She shrugged squeezing her biceps, “I wanted to explore, I was never going to know myself in Thesmia’s shadow. She was very...resistant to the idea. She’d seen how cruel people could be. That was part of why she made a home for us in PeleiraI. If she had it her way I would have spent the rest of my days in tucked away safe in her tower.” Dafni paused for a beat, her hands anxiously toying with the edge of her sleeve, “Please don’t misunderstand me. I love my mother dearly. She can just be a bit…”

“Overbearing?” He suggested.

“Yes.” Dafni giggled, releasing the worried fabric from her fingertips, “I know she wanted what was best for me. We just didn’t agree on what that was. I wanted to live my life and she wanted me to live hers.”

“I can sympathize to an extent.” He said, his mouth turning down into a scowl.

“You had a loving but smothering ancient being as a mother?” She tittered, playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

“No.” His tone came out a bit sharper than he’d intended. He ran his hand through his hair composing himself before he continued, “But, I understand the feeling that your life isn’t really your own.”

It was a risk to offer such information up. One he maybe shouldn’t have taken but, something about her vulnerability made him feel a little less guarded. A skill that could prove dangerous. At least his slip up hadn’t been for not. Her heart had slowed to a steady thrum. The jittery shuffling of her feet had stopped. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dafni responded, placing a hesitant hand on his arm. He had expected her to pry. She was painfully curious and astonishingly open with her own feelings. Yet, she seemed to sense pressing the matter would upset him. Instead, she moved on. Her voice coming out small and far away, “I think she wanted me to be more like her. Refined. Intelligent. Graceful.” She sighed pressing her back to the mossy tree trunk, “Sometimes I worry I might have been a bit of a disappointment.”

Ah-

There it was. The piece he’d been hoping to find. She wanted reassurance. Validation. To be valued and appreciated by her own merits.

“I don’t know your mother or her mind but, for what it’s worth, I think you are quite remarkable.” 

“Really?” Her voice quivered as she looked up at him with sparkling doe eyes. 

“If not for the tadpole’s intervention you may well have, how did you put it, cut my smug head right off my shoulders?” He snickered toying absentmindedly with the pommel of his dagger, “Or made a respectable attempt at any rate. I’m not often bested by my quarries.” 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t.” Dafni leaned in close, the sweet scent of her dizzying his senses. Her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, “Your head is far too lovely to be parted from your shoulders.” 

“Why, Daffodil! I’m flattered!” He stated a pleased grin plastered across his face, “Not surprised but, flattered. You did strike me as a woman of taste.”  

“Are you always this cocky?” She chided in a teasing tone.

“Probably.”  

“Hmm. Why am I not surprised” Dafni had tried to sound vexed but the edges of her voice teemed with amusement. Her big, topaz eyes gleaming with joviality, “Fair is fair. Tell me about your life before the tadpoles?”

He felt a slight unease creep into his chest in response to her innocent inquiry. He’d played fast and loose with the truth countless times with his marks but Dafni was different. She was observant, always picking up on the little subtleties of people's deminers. He would do better to stick to omissions rather than out and out mistruths. He brought his hand to the back of his neck giving the tender mussels a gentle rub.

“Oh, what is there to tell.” He put on a dispassionate expression. Careful to sound cool and nonchalant. “I was a magistrate- it’s all rather tedious.”

“Really? I can’t picture you as a bureaucrat.” 

“And why not?” He gasped clutching his hand over his chest.

“Well for starters, you despise rules even more than I do. You like to stir up trouble. And your sense of morality- How do I put this, seems a bit...crooked? No offense.” She explained, indicating her points on the tips of her fingers.

“Oh, none taken!” Astarion gave her a peal of hearty laughter, shaking his head, “Daffodil, I hate to be the one to tell you there is a great deal of dubious morality in government.”

Her expression soured, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly as she stuck it out, “Well, I still can’t picture it. You are far too much fun for such a stuffy job.” 

“People have many sides, dear.” He shrugged glancing over at her with a playful look, “But thank you.”

[the--highlanders]

27. Cute

on ao3.

“You two are so cute together!”

“Eh?”

The girl before him sighed, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair back. “You and the Doctor! How long have you been married?”

“Um.” Glancing around the room, Jamie let her words wash over him. He had only meant to part with the Doctor for a moment, himself going to fetch their tea while the Doctor found them somewhere to sit in the crowded hotel cafe. But this girl had recognised them from yesterday’s dinner, and she had been chattering away to him for far too long, and the Doctor would surely be wondering -

The realisation of exactly what she had said crashed over him, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Eh?” he wheezed.

“The Doctor told me,” she explained eagerly, clasping her hands together. “Last night. He was a bit embarrassed by it, I thought. Newlyweds, are you?”

“Um,” Jamie said again. Any thoughts of staying inconspicuous, of finding the Doctor, and most certainly of getting them cups of tea had been wiped out of his mind, leaving him a blank slate inscribed only with the word married. Why the Doctor would have told her that he did not know, and he wondered for a moment if she could have been dreaming. But perhaps the Doctor had some plan, and it would not do for him to blunder in and ruin it. “That’s right,” he said vaguely, long since haven forgotten exactly what she had said, and hoping he was answering the right question. Through the crowds, he at last caught sight of the Doctor, and his heart leapt. “I need tae go an’ talk to him, would ye mind if I -”

“Oh, no, not at all!” She skipped aside, but only succeeded in blocking his path to the booth where the Doctor sat. It was secluded, one of the few that could be partitioned off from the rest of the cafe with sliding doors. Romantic, even, a horrid little voice at the back of Jamie’s mind whispered, and he could have collapsed on the spot from the shuddery panic that the thought threw over him. He nodded to the girl as he ducked around her, but stopped just short of the booth, pulling a map out of his pocket to pretend to examine it.

What on Earth had the Doctor been thinking? And why could he himself not pass it off as a simple game of make-believe, an open-and-shut case that would only last until they managed to swipe those documents. He was taking this far too seriously, he told himself sternly. For whatever reason, the Doctor was pretending, that was all. It was hardly as if it was a real marriage.

It was the word that was the problem. He had never seriously thought about being married. Of course, he had imagined, as a child – but the more he had grown, the more he had found other things to worry himself with, and the more it had seemed something for a far-off future that never grew any closer. Always in a few years, and then always after the war. After they were safe again. And always after he had found the right girl, of course. He knew perfectly well why that had never quite happened, but he had always stopped just short of putting a name to it.

Now, of course, Polly had made it eagerly and abundantly clear to him why that might be, as soon as she had caught a whiff of him being less than inclined towards girls. And it was a good thing, too, else he might have skipped the panic and gone straight for heart failure upon hearing that people thought he was married to the Doctor. No, the problem was not the idea of being married to another man – though it was hardly as if the Doctor was a man, exactly. Quite what he was, he was sure he would never know, but he was not a man from Earth, that was for sure. And yet – he was not a lassie, either. But if he was entirely honest with himself, it was that for all Polly’s gentle prodding and careful explanations, he was still not sure. For years, he had been waiting for the real thing to come along. Something more than oh, remember the lad a couple of villages over, he had nice eyes and was good with horses, or wasn’t there that one time in Inverness, we passed a good-looking boy in the street, something undeniably more than the passing isn’t-he-handsome thought that he had assumed everyone had. Something he could think back on and say yes, I know what the other lads meant when they talked about girls, now. But underneath it all, deep down and long since well-buried, was the unshakeable worry that the real thing would never come along at all, and he would be left waiting and wondering and doubting himself.

Whatever he thought he was waiting for, he told himself sternly, he would have to keep waiting. And whatever meaning he was reading into this was equally silly. And yet for the Doctor to ask him to pretend like this still struck at the parts of himself he had hollowed out and ignored.

“Jamie!” He could have leapt a mile at the sound of the Doctor’s voice. Perhaps his thoughts had been written all over his face as clear as anything, and the Doctor would know exactly what had paralysed him. But he looked as calm as when he had left him, tucked in one corner of the booth. Jamie dragged himself over towards him, stomach churning, and crammed himself into the opposite side, as far away as he could manage. “What happened to our tea?”

“Oh.” His mind was far too slow and sluggish for this. “Tea.”

“Yes, well. Nevermind.” The Doctor tugged the map out of Jamie’s hands, spreading it out on the table. “Now, I do think it would be a little – ah – on-the-nose, shall we say, to ask for a proper plan of this place, so we’ll just have to make do with – Jamie, are you listening to me?”

“Hm?” Jamie had taken up the edge of the map, worrying its tip back and forth until he had creased it. “Aye, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Sitting back, the Doctor folded his arms over his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Someone just told me somethin’ funny, that’s all.”

“Oh?” He looked so expectant, like he was waiting for Jamie to tell him an actual joke. “What sort of thing?”

“She said...” The weight in his stomach shot up into his throat as he started to speak, and he wondered if his heart might give out entirely if he gave voice to it. “She said ye told her we were married.”

“Oh!” The Doctor laughed, and Jamie wondered if it really was all some joke to him. Try as he might, he could not see what would possibly be funny about it. But when he listened a little closer, the Doctor sounded more embarrassed than amused, colour creeping into his cheeks. “Yes, I, hm – I thought we might seem a little more harmless if people thought we were newlyweds on holiday.”

“Ye can’t -” Lunging across the table, Jamie snatched up the Doctor’s hand, shaking it up and down for emphasis. “Ye can’t just go around telling people we’re married.”

Realising what he had done, he whisked his hand away. The Doctor had jerked away in the same moment – and was that a touch of wistfulness in his expression? “Oh, I realise I should have told you first – but I thought it was a good cover story,” he said. “And we’d have been sharing a room anyway.”

It was truly a miracle that Jamie’s heart did not stop entirely at that. “But we’re no’ married!”

“I’m quite aware of that, of course, but do keep your voice down. They don’t need to know that.” The Doctor tilted his head to one side, and oh, if that had not gone and made everything worse. Jamie could never say no to that face. “Unless the idea is that unpleasant to you. Oh – oh, dear, I -” His eyes widened. “I simply forgot, that in your time -”

“No!” Jamie exclaimed. “No, no, it’s no’ that.”

Briefly, he wondered if he should tell the Doctor exactly what it was that bothered him. But when he tried to pin it down, it split into a thousand different problems. It was that it had been such a shock – no, it had been that it was just a little too close to what he had never let himself want – no, it was that it was the Doctor he would be pretending with, of all people.

Better not to tell him, he thought eventually. No need to bother him. “It’s no’ that,” he repeated, more softly this time.

“Oh.” The Doctor clasped his hands together in his lap. “So – do you – oh, I am sorry, Jamie, it isn’t any of my business.”

“It’s alright.” Some deep instinct made him open his mouth again, ready to say yes – but he hesitated as he went to say it, wondering if he was really allowed to call it anything more than a maybe, when he was still waiting. Or a yes, but not how I’ve always been told people mean it. A yes, but I’m sure I’m missing something.

“Jamie...” With a start, he realised that the Doctor was frowning at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you’d rather I passed it off as a joke and we forgot the whole business -”

“I told her we were,” Jamie interrupted him. “I think we’re a wee bit past that.”

“Oh.”

“Aye.”

Slowly, tentatively, the Doctor reached across the table to take his hand again. Jamie almost leapt back in surprise, but he held himself carefully still, watching his fingers twitch back and forth like they were trying to decide whether to hold the Doctor’s hand properly. “In that case...” The Doctor shuffled along the seat, sliding himself closer to Jamie. “That is, if you’re quite comfortable with it -” He glanced through the doors of their booth. “I think you ought to kiss me.”

Jamie’s breath caught in the back of his throat, heavy and sharp, and he choked on it. By the time he had recovered from his coughing fit, his eyes were watering, and he could do nothing but whisper out a hoarse, “what?”

The Doctor jerked his head towards the rest of the cafe. “Because of them.” A cluster of tall figures were weaving their way through the crowds, shoving at those who stumbled into their path and looming over those they stopped to talk to. “Inquirers. They must suspect something.”

“Ye don’t think -” Any terror Jamie had felt at the idea of pretending to be the Doctor’s husband had drained out of him, chased away by his blood turning to ice at the sight of the Inquirers. “Ye don’t think they know we -”

“I don’t know if they suspect us, no. But I doubt they’d bother to disturb a couple of newlyweds, well – canoodling in here, so -”

Before his nerve could give out, Jamie leant in and kissed him quiet.

He did not like admitting to himself that he had thought about kissing the Doctor – and enjoyed still less the knowledge of how often he had thought about it. Whatever he had imagined, it was not this, with the Doctor’s hands flapping at his sides like he was trying to figure out what to do with them, and the corner of the table knocking into his chest, and himself moving the wrong way and bumping his nose into the Doctor’s cheeks. But he moved closer to sit beside him properly, curling his legs up onto the seat, and the Doctor settled his hands on his waist, and every time they bumped against each other they broke apart for a second to laugh. And laughing with the Doctor was the easiest thing he had ever done. Only when his mind had recovered enough to process exactly what he was doing did he pull away for good, trailing his hands reluctantly over the Doctor’s sides as he leant back.

“Ye know,” he said, his voice not as steady as he would have liked, “we could’ve just closed the doors.”

“Ah.” The Doctor glanced towards them. “Well, I – hm. I didn’t think of that.”

Surely, he thought, surely he was imagining the Doctor’s entirely disarmed expression. It had been an entirely sensible distraction. There was no meaning to it whatsoever.

And yet – the Doctor had a talent for taking his world and turning it on its head until he wondered why he had ever seen it any other way. He had been watching and waiting for so long, wondering when things would finally click into place. And they had – but not quite in the shape he had expected. He had never needed to wait, because whatever great realisation he had been waiting for would never come. Maybe, he thought, seizing upon the thought as desperately as if he were drowning and it was keeping him afloat, maybe there was no real thing but this. Just to kiss the Doctor again, and again, and again. And that would be enough. More than enough, if he was honest with himself. The thought buoyed him up into laughter and tumbled over him like a wave and held him like a calm sea, and there was a sort of peace in it, in thinking that he was whole.

Only – and this was the terrible and unavoidable fact – it was the Doctor he was feeling something for.

 Oh.

Oh, no.

This was going to be harder than he had thought.

[fericita-s]

Beginning After The End (Part 4)

Part 1   Part 2  Part 3

This concludes this story about Thea and Hubert falling in love after the deaths of Elias, Agnarr, and Iduna. Thank you @the-spaztic-fantastic​ for being the best beta ever and saying “YES MORE” when I said I wanted to think about these two and their lives after the events of WAIL. And for her many contributions including the idea of getting Henrik back with these two for some shenanigans and many of the gift ideas. Thea deserves good things!

Elias had shaved every day at home, lathering up with a soap with a distinct scent that Thea had come to associate with him.  She missed the smell of it.  He came home from expeditions with a beard that was coarse and full.  Its roughness against her face when they kissed hello was part of the homecoming ritual, as was watching him trim and then shave it off, the time spent apart measured in how long it was.  She would cup his smooth cheek with her hand and say “There you are!” when he finished and then together they began their favorite part of his homecoming. 

Hubert kept his beard short.  This was becoming a greater challenge now that the white hairs in it were growing faster than the brown.  He would turn to Thea from his dressing table with the mirror propped up and the scissors in his hand, exasperated and possibly wistful and say “Why are the old-man hairs the ones most intent on announcing their presence?” 

She found the best way to assuage this particular fear was to kiss him on the lips while her hands scratched at his bearded cheeks. “I like it.  It makes you look distinguished.  Very reliable for knowing the best way to introduce ice cars to the national railway.” Often the scissors would be abandoned as his hand found places to caress that elicited less verbal sounds of satisfaction from her.

***

Elias had presented her with gifts throughout their courtship and marriage through the imports his family was so involved in.  He paid attention to the latest fashions that his mother and Linnea followed closely and seemed to always be giving her a new bonnet or pair of gloves or piece of jewelry or box of books.  He bought her paints and pigments for her artwork and she exclaimed over the expense, grateful he knew how important it was to her.  She hadn’t packed any of those gifts in the trunks that came to Antwerp, though she had tucked her wedding ring into a pair of woolen socks, unwilling to part from it completely and yet wanting to try living without its constant presence on her hand.

Hubert was similarly generous with gifts.  For their first Christmas together, he had given all of the children their own horses and when Thea gently pointed out that perhaps the twins and Elias were too young for a horse, he bought them ponies as well.  Vadik had also received a pocket watch that Hubert had been gifted from his own father at the age of ten and a letter Elias had written to Hubert announcing Vadik’s birth.  Sasha had gasped when he presented her with a Stradivarius violin. They hadn’t seen her for the rest of the day, the pastoral symphony from Handel’s Messiah filling the house the only evidence of her presence and a testament to her delight.

To Thea, he had given his mother’s diamond ring, resized to fit her hand.  He had shrugged at the extravagance, saying only “Antwerp is known for diamonds and I never gave you a ring when we were wed.” But she had seen how pleased he was when she wore it, how his eyes looked at her hand and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  Later, Sara had hugged her tightly and whispered how glad she was to see her brother in love.

That night when the last carol had been sung and the last candle extinguished, Hubert lit one in the bedroom to tell her of another gift.

“I saved the letters Elias wrote to me over the years.  Yours too, but it’s his I think you might like to see. We started corresponding the year we were all at the Royal Sommerhus together,” he said as he crossed the room to the tall chest of drawers.  He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers tied neatly with a piece of string. 

“I should have told you about them before, but I wasn’t sure if they would cause joy or bereavement.  But I think either way, the decision is for you to make.” He was looking at the letter on top, and even with only candlelight Thea could see that it bore the creases of having been once folded as a letter.  Hubert didn’t raise his eyes to hers as he continued speaking.

“He loved you so much Thea.  And he said that so often in these letters.  Sometime casually, sometimes in grand declarations.  And they’re yours to read whenever you want to; alone or with me nearby.”

The diamond had spun on her finger and she twisted it back around as she answered him, careful to keep her voice even so he wouldn’t hear grief in her voice and regret this gift.  “Thank you, Hubert. I’ll read them another night.”

He returned the letters to the drawer and then got back in their bed.

“Thank you for all of the gifts.  The children and I - we’re so lucky to have you.” She hoped he could hear the sincerity in her voice, how much she meant it to be true.  Thinking about Elias was still a wound but it was more of a bruise now, not the gaping wound it had been before coming to Antwerp. And one she preferred, at least for now, to prod and examine by herself.

“I love giving you good things,” he said and she knew he was trying to say something else.

***

The night before Vadik was born, Thea had been so uncomfortably pregnant that she sent Elias to Hudson’s without her.  “Bring me back krumkake if there is any.  Or skolebrod.  Or both,” she’d said as he kissed her goodbye.  He’d returned with both.

When she was so heavily pregnant that only one dress fit and none of her shoes, she felt her stomach had no room for any food.  Hubert begged her to take one more sip of soup, one more bite of bread, and when her contractions began said he would go for the midwife himself and fetch Sasha from school until Thea told him she would rather he remain close by and to perhaps send a servant instead.  

“Try not to get drunk like Elias did when I labored with Sasha.  All will be well.  There’s nothing to fear,” she had said as he left the room.

Thea had cried out once when the midwife said “There’s another!”  Hubert rushed in and saw the birth of the second while clutching Thea’s hand, his mother’s diamond leaving a mark in his palm.

***

Elias had taken the children sailing and riding and swimming and hiking, sometimes with Thea and sometimes not.  He rolled to the very edge of the bed when Sasha and then later Vadik came into their room at the sound of thunder and needed to sleep pressed against their mother. He put a steady hand behind Thea as she carried their babies, pushed the pram or nursed.

Maybe because there were two at once, or because he was older when he became a father, or just because he was a different man, but Hubert held the babies at every opportunity.  They bought a second pram shortly after they realized the need for it, but the twins, Helen and Castor, were still small enough that they fit in one, tightly swaddled and fit neatly together as the family walked through De Zoologie and exclaimed over the animals.  Hubert pushed the pram and Thea would have thought that was the way of it in Antwerp except every other pram they passed was pushed by a nursemaid in uniform.  Hubert smiled and waved to those passing and Thea thought his pride in his family, in their family, was visible to even strangers.

***

“Three babies in two years; I know it’s been rare for you to have time to yourself,” Hubert said, with his hand on the doorknob.  Thea appreciated that he didn’t list the tragedies of those years, only the happy surprises: little Elias and Helen and Castor.  Little Elias was so big now that no one ever called him “the baby,” especially since the twins were currently taking up quite a bit of energy and attention, even spread as it was among Hubert, Thea, Sara, the nursemaids, and their older siblings.

It was their first anniversary, after all, and Thea was determined to have a happy day.  She had planned a menu with the cooks that would rival a royal wedding celebration.  Hubert’s friends and colleagues, who would probably have come to their wedding had it happened with any notice, were attending an anniversary dinner.  Even Henrik was coming. He was in the country to discuss the use of ice in train transport with Hubert and had promised to bring a few surprises of his own.  Thea had raised her eyebrows at this, but Hubert had been uncharacteristically unconcerned.

They were outside of a room Thea thought might be one of the sunrooms.  The Bonfrey family estate was large and she was still learning where everything was located a year into making it home.  The children seemed to learn it perfectly after one tour from Sara on the very first night.  But Thea would sometimes open several doors before ending up where she meant to, and wasn’t helped by the way the children were constantly leaving their books and playthings scattered in different places, a trail of unhelpful breadcrumbs like those from one of Hubert’s book of German fairy tales.

“Sara and Sasha helped me set this up the way they guessed you’d like,” said Hubert, and Thea was surprised to see a red flush on his cheeks, a nervous flexing in his hands.  They’d seen each other through so much this year - the grief of a funeral for beloved friends, a hellish trip across the sea, the birth of the twins - but she hadn’t seen him act like this before.  

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first and she did.  

“Oh Hubert!” 

The room Hubert had led her into had been a sunroom.  The floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light that displayed the contents of the room to full effect: paints and pigments, canvases stacked high, chalks and charcoals, several easels, hog bristle brushes, even a pantograph for reducing or enlarging sketches. On the wall were shelves that were mostly empty save for a handful of books. 

“They’re photo studies. Of statues, paintings.  Some landscapes and some models,” Hubert said as she stepped forward and traced the embossed titles along the book spines.

Thea moved about the room, her hands running along shelves and then on to the paintbrushes, experimentally brushing them against her palm.  

“I thought you could use a place to be by yourself, to think and to paint or even to just sit and read. I can move the letters from Elias in here if you’d like.”

Thea turned to him and nodded.  “I would like that.  I like all of this, Hubert. So much.”

“Sasha said you’d like those the best,” he said as she examined the canvas. “ And Sara suggested we paint the room white and take out most of the furniture so you can choose how to decorate it.  We left a chair and a stool for you, and the couch for whoever wants to pose.”

Vadik suddenly ran in the room with little Elias close behind and Hubert scooped him up before he collided with the glass jars standing at the ready for mixing.

“And the best part,” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a key, “is that you can lock it to keep out any unwelcome visitors.”

“Like who?” Vadik asked.  “Uncle Henrik? But he just got here and Aunt Sara told me to fetch you to greet him!”

Thea laughed and ruffled his hair. “No, sweet, Uncle Henrik is most welcome.  Come with me so he can exclaim over how tall you’ve grown.”  

***

The anniversary dinner party went so late into the evening that it was the early morning hours before any guests left for home.  Though Hubert gripped the table when Henrik gave a toast, it was entirely appropriate and never once mentioned Paris, for which Thea knew Hubert was extremely grateful.

When Hubert was walking the last of the guests to the door, Henrik revealed his surprise - paintings and sketches Thea had made and left in Arendelle.  She went through the neatly preserved stack and was delighted to see among them Sasha, age ten and playing her violin, Vadik as a baby sleeping in his crib, Elias in the pond by the Royal Sommerhus, teaching Sasha to swim. She had left them in Arendelle hoping to leave some evidence of her family behind in case they all sunk to the bottom of the sea. Looking at them now, she was surprised to feel only joy.

“Linnea brought them back on her last visit and asked me to deliver them to you personally,” Henrik said.  

He didn’t ask why she hadn’t brought them when she and the children moved here and she was grateful.  He reached for the portrait of Elias that she was now tracing with her hand - one of him in an Arendelle navy uniform, trying to look serious but his smile rendered fully in the watercolor. “Thea, you know he loved you.  And you know he would have wanted you to find love again.  To be cared for and to care for others. To not be closed off and grieving for the rest of your days.” He placed the painting back in the pile and squeezed her hand.  “He liked Hubert.  He would have liked this for you, even though he would never have liked to leave you so permanently.”

***

Hubert helped Thea arrange the paintings Henrik had brought from Linnea.  With each painting she felt a fragmented piece of herself realign and became part of the whole, like a dried out watercolor palette being worked over with water and blending brushes.  Hubert had his hand on the doorknob to leave, but she didn’t want him to go.

“Henrik asked again if I wanted him to pose for me.  Nude of course.”

Hubert laughed. “Again? Is this something he does often?”

“A handful of times.  I think usually it was just to bother Elias,” she said as she fiddled with the nearby paintbrushes and straightened the stack of canvases that were already in a very neat pile.  She picked up the lay figure and worked its arms and legs.  “Thankfully you’ve given me this so I can decline.”

“If you ever need a live model, I’d be happy to do it.  To spare you the sight of Henrik.” He said and took his hand off of the doorknob.  “It’s why the couch is here after all.”  

He sat down on it and then she did too.  

“Did I tell you about the time Elias offered himself for the same purpose?”

“No,” Hubert laughed.  

“I was very flustered - we weren’t yet engaged. I told him of my art classes and the sketches we would do, how both men and women had posed nude for us. I was trying to impress him with my worldliness.  And he said ‘I’d be very pleased to pose for you anytime you’d like.’” Thea glanced at Hubert who was smiling at her story, and smiled in response and in memory of her attempt to show off.

“I told him there was no need as I’d already seen more men naked than I could count, and then he said ‘Just wait until you see what I do with it.’” Thea reddened and put her hand over her mouth, laughing.  “I’m sorry; you don’t want to hear that!”

But Hubert was laughing too and reached for her hands to squeeze them in reassurance.  “You can tell me anything about him.  We can both remember him.”

“Thank you,” Thea said, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling like another piece of herself was connected and whole again.

***

She loved him. She wasn’t sure when it started. Probably long before she said it, probably when her heart didn’t know what to call it anymore.  He had been patient and allowed her to find her way to it, not demanding it of her even when he said it freely and showed her in a hundred different ways.  

“Ice liebe dich,” she said, and kissed him on one cheek and then the other.  “Je t’aime.” 

The space between their lips was so small that she could feel his words as he spoke them, warm as they fell across her lips.  

“I love you too.  So much,”  Hubert said as he gently rested his forehead against hers and put his hands on her shoulders.  He rested them lightly and she could feel them tremble.

“Ik hou van je,” she said.  She had saved that one for last.  

Hubert spoke German when he was in a nostalgic mood and French for everyday.  Flemish was his language for murmuring in her ear while in bed at night, his body surrounding hers and bringing them both pleasure.  He spoke words of affection in Flemish after moments of ecstasy that she guessed he didn’t know if she was ready to hear.  But now, she was. And she was ready to say them too.

“Is that right?” asked Hubert, and pulled back from her so she could see his face.  His was smiling and his eyes were full of such hope and tenderness she knew he meant it was all he wanted.  “You love me in three languages?”

“I love you in every language. And I’ll learn them all, too, to tell you.  You loved me back to life and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say thank you enough.”

Hubert’s smile faltered a little and his brow furrowed.  They were small tells, but she could see them.  Someone who loved him could see that he was bothered. 

“Saying ‘I love you’ is better than ‘thank you.’  As long as it’s not an obligation.  As long as you don't think you have to say it to stay here and be my beloved,” he said, speaking gently and patiently, like always. 

She answered and kept her eyes on his.  She wanted him to feel the truth in what she said.  “No, I feel free.  You’ve made me free to love again. And I love you.”

He smiled and she saw the relief he felt at her words, the joy.  He moved his hands to her waist and her cheek and pulled her towards him in language their bodies were familiar with. “Well then. Let’s love.”

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: Neso Display

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~1.6k Rating: G Time Frame: Sometime during their second year Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Setsu’s reaction to the Kasumin Box was adorable and got me thinking. This is the result.

“Ayumu!” Yuu called. “Ayumu! Look! Look!”

Ayumu turned her gaze to here her friend was pointing excitedly. “Eeeeh?” She recoiled in surprise.

“They finally made merchandise for you guys!” Yuu cried joyously holding up a fan with a picture of Ayumu from a recent photoshoot. “I need to buy something! What to get? What to get?” She began searching the display.

Ayumu felt a strange mixture of embarrassment and pride as she scanned the collection. It felt odd knowing people would be buying items with her image on them, but she was learning to accept the support of her growing fanbase. And the fact that companies deemed their group popular enough to invest in creating merchandise was a testament to the effort everyone had put in, particularly for the recent School Idol Festival.

And of course, Yuu was thrilled, which didn’t come as any surprise, but it made Ayumu happy anyway.

“Ooo… Nesoberis!” Yuu suddenly reached forward to grab a plush. “Look, Ayumu! It’s you!” She held out a small, stuffed version of the redhead. “And it’s almost as cute as you, too!”

“Y-Yuu-chan…” Ayumu felt heat rise in her cheeks.

“Oh, they have Setsuna-chan as well! And Rina-chan! And… looks like everyone. I should take a picture.” Yuu fumbled for her phone. “I’ll bet Ai-chan will want one of Rina-chan.”

“And probably visa versa.” Ayumu found her voice again.

“That’s true.” Yuu agreed. “Say, do you think Kasumi-chan would want one of herself?” She grinned at her own joke.

“Perhaps.” Ayumu chuckled. “Although are you sure she wouldn’t want one of someone else?”

“Hrm…” Yuu considered. “I dunno. Maybe. But she would probably want one of Kasumi-chan.”

“It’s a shame they don’t have one of Yuu-chan.” Ayumu lamented for a moment.

“But I’m not a school idol.” Yuu laughed. “Why would they make one of me?”

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Setsuna announced as she approached the other two, holding up the bag with her newly purchased manga. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Ne, Setsuna-chan! Look!” Yuu held out the plush still in her hand.

Immediately, grey eyes began to sparkle. “It’s so~ cu~te!” Setsuna cooed, reaching forward to touch it and practically squealing with delight as Yuu let her take it. “Almost as cute as the real Ayumu-san.” She held it close for inspection.

“I know, right!” Yuu nodded enthusiastically.

Geez, now Setsuna-chan’s doing it too. Ayumu was thankful there were no mirrors around as she no desire to see what her face looked like at that moment.

“And look, they have the whole club!” Yuu motioned dramatically to the display.

As far as Ayumu was concerned, Setsuna looked like she was about to die and go to heaven. And now that the focus seemed to be off her for the moment, she smiled as she watched her friend excitedly examine each version.

“I can’t decide.” Setsuna suddenly said as she stared at her armload of stuffed toys. “I want them all.”

Yuu laughed. “Setsuna-chan is going for a harem.”

The shorter girl shook her head. “A commemoration.” She corrected as her expression became more wistful. “You guys are all the closest friends I’ve had.” She explained. “I haven’t always had the easiest time making friends, what with hiding my hobbies at home and my identity at school.”

“What about the other members of the school council?” Yuu inquired.

“They’re more like coworkers or professional acquaintances. They only know Nana. They don’t know Setsuna, or any of this.” Setsuna motioned to the school idol merchandise.

“I see.”

“Perhaps someday I’ll let them in on the truth, but for now, I’m happy with the friends I’ve made in the club. And making a display of these would help me celebrate that fact.” Her normal smile returned as she hugged the nine nesos. “And I really can’t get over how cute they are.”

“Since you put it that way, I kinda wanna get one of each as well.” Yuu turned back to the display. “But I’m a little short this week, so I may have to collect them a few at a time. So today…” She picked up two “I think I’ll just one of Ayumu and Setsuna-chan. How about you?” She turned to the tallest girl of the three.

“Oh, uhm…” Ayumu scanned the display. “It would feel strange to get one of myself…”

“It’s fine, right?” Yuu shrugged. “Setsuna-chan is getting one of herself too.”

“No, I mean I feel like I should get at least one other…” She picked up one of her own and… Geez, they really are all as cute as Setsuna-chan said. Setsuna-chan… Her hand moved in that direction. “There, now I won’t get lonely.” She joked, holding up the two.

“Ayu-pyon needs her company after all.” Yuu chuckled.

Though that was the reference to which she herself had alluded, Ayumu still wasn’t quite used to hearing that nickname. But that was fine for now.

With new purchases to be made by all three, the girls headed to the registers.

Setsuna stood back and admired her newly set up display, the first idol themed thing she had put out in the open in her own room now that her parents had accepted her participation in the club. They were still slowly coming around to anime, so Setsuna hadn’t broken out everything from her storage places in her closet, at school and with various friends. However, a small shrine to school idols was probably alright now, especially since they represented her friends.

Her friends…

She stepped over to her desk and picked up her phone. She then aligned a shot of the collection, took it and sent it to the other members of the club through their group chat. Almost immediately, responses started to come in from the other girls and Setsuna smiled as she read the positive comments.

Idly, Setsuna picked up the Ayumu neso. It was a shame there wasn’t a Yuu to go with it, but Yuu wasn’t an idol. Still, Setsuna thought it would be a cute one. Cute… They were all cute. However, despite someone like Kasumi proudly proclaiming her cuteness, Setsuna found she much preferred the pure and unassuming cuteness of someone like Ayumu. She touched the tiny bun on the side of the Ayumu’s head and smiled.

Ayumu had shown Setsuna how to make the stylized bun surrounded by braids a while back. Setsuna had managed to do it on her own, not once but twice, to give herself twin buns during the club’s summer camp. However, in doing so, she had realized she preferred letting someone else do it for her. Someone more skilled and who seemed to enjoy working with hair. Someone like Ayumu.

Wait, what am I doing? Setsuna blinked back to reality as she realized she had been hugging the nesoberi tightly to her chest while lost in her thoughts. But… was that actually wrong? Hugging cute plushies was a normal thing to do, right? Even when they looked like…

Blushing, Setsuna put the nesoberi back in its place and went to her desk to study for a while. However, every now and again, she found herself glancing back over at her new display of idol merchandise. And each time she couldn’t help smiling as she recalled why she wanted all of them.

She was glad she hadn’t decided to wait to collect all of them like Yuu and Ayumu were doing. Sure, she would have to put off getting a couple new books immediately upon their release for the next month or two, but it had been worth it.

Her attention kept returning to the nesoberis even as she closed her books and started getting ready to turn in for the night. Part of her wanted to take one down again and bring it to bed with her, but another part of her was hesitant, stuck on trying to decipher the details of the desire.

Her phone vibrated.

TakasakiYuu: Sorry for the late reply

TakasakiYuu: I lost track of time working on new songs for you guys

TakasakiYuu: Hope you havent already gone to bed

TakasakiYuu: If so sorry if I woke you up

ScarletStorm: I’m still awake

TakasakiYuu: Oh good

TakasakiYuu: I wanted to show you my display

TakasakiYuu: Ayumu already got to see it in person

TakasakiYuu: She even helped me figure out where to put them

A picture arrived showing the Ayumu and Setsuna nesoberis on the bookshelf beside Yuu’s keyboard, turned such that it looked like they were watching.

TakasakiYuu: Normally Id have them facing out into the room

TakasakiYuu: But when I turn them like this its kinda like you two are here with me to help me when I get stuck on something

TakasakiYuu: Its already helped me twice tonight

TakasakiYuu: I dont think Ill have room for all seven like this

TakasakiYuu: Well I mean I can fit them all here on the shelf when I get them

TakasakiYuu: But theres really only room to turn two like this

TakasakiYuu: But thats alright

TakasakiYuu: Im happy its at least you two

ScarletStorm: That’s a cute idea

ScarletStorm: I love it

ScarletStorm: Thanks for showing it to me

TakasakiYuu: Anyway I hope you guys like what Ive written

TakasakiYuu: Ill have something to listen to before practice tomorrow

ScarletStorm: I’m sure it will be good

ScarletStorm: I’ll look forward to it

TakasakiYuu: Have a good night!

TakasakiYuu: Sleep well!

ScarletStorm: You as well

Setsuna turned off the screen of her phone and set it next to her clock in her headboard.

Sleep well… She would sleep well while snuggling something soft and cute…

With that thought in mind, she grabbed her Ayumu nesoberi again and lay down. It was fine just for one night, right? She had a test coming up the next day and needed a good night of rest. And if Yuu had new material to work on, practice would be intense as well, so she would also need to sleep well for that.

Setsuna hugged the plush to her chest and closed her eyes.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[alyssa-ward]

Bared and Stolen Souls

[ Following Possibilities and New Allies ]

It can’t have been more than a few minutes.  The sensation across the link is tipsy.  Exhausted.  An underlying sadness.  Either no more than moments have passed, or Riley has spent most of the time since they last spoke in about the same state.  “Hey, uh.”  Volume increases slowly.  “Just taking some measurements for that sheathe I mentioned.  Didn’t want to startle you… if that’s even how it works.”  A pause left before she continues speaking.  “How.. .how’s everything going in there?”  A lift of hope in the tone and Alyssa doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

"It doesn't startle me," the woman in the blade replies shortly, "but thank you all the same. How long has it been since we talked last?" The question comes not with accusation but with genuine curiosity.  It’d be nice to put some perspective on what’s happened.  "Are you speaking out loud, or thinking? You may not have to vocalize to reach me, just… direct your thoughts at me, if that makes sense. I'm doing..." Alyssa almost offers a platitude.  Says something nice.  It’s just not there though, her gaze slowly sweeping her corrupted empty woods.  The truth then.  "I've been better. I miss… everything. Being this alone is hard. How are you?"

"Yeah, yeah I can sympathize with that." Riley’s reply feels genuine, though it comes with it’s own air of surprise.  Perhaps she hadn’t intended to be so honest either.  "Not your uniquely specific circumstances, of course, but..." She breathed a sigh.  "Being shut away from everything and everyone you love, not knowing how many days or weeks have passed. It's a special kind of hell. I'm sorry, Alyssa." For a moment Aly has a glimpse into Riley, the real person, what she hides beneath the surface.  Then as quickly it’s gone, the woman on the other end of the blade is clearly practiced at shutting her doors and putting up walls.  Her focus seems to shift to Alyssa’s other question instead.

"I, uh... out loud, yeah. I guess I should work on that. Can't imagine I'd be very effective in any capacity if I'm caught out in public just chatting away with a voice only I can hear..." a brief chuckle crosses the link, and then after a pause, Riley’s voice comes through far more clearly. "Can you hear me..?" A pause during which Alyssa gives affirmation before she continues. "It hasn't been long - a day or so at most. I'm assuming time isn't a luxury for this sort of thing. I put some feelers out for the information we're looking for, and I paid good money to have my informants expedite the process. In the meantime, I figured I'd fit this blade with some proper protection."

"Sorry to hear it," Alyssa finds sincerity comes easily here. She lets Riley talk, there’s no reason to interrupt it all.  Only when she’s sure Riley has gotten what she wanted to say does Alyssa’s voice come through once more. "That sounds wise. I don't know what Kat was using as a sheath before. When I gave her the Dagger it didn't have one. I'd pulled it out of the ruins of Gilneas and had it cleaned up, regripped, and sharpened." A realization as she’s saying it that it might be news to RIley that the dagger Alyssa now inhabits was a gift she gave. "I wish I could do more, it sounds like you have everything important covered."

"I'm, mph. I'm just doing what I can. Checking one thing off the list at a time." A pause. "You'd mentioned needing to go over the spell work you'd need for the..." She trailed off momentarily. "Are you all set with that?"

"As set as I can be without the soul," Alyssa replies, with less assurance than might be preferred. In truth, this is outside the realm of anything she’s ever tried to do, but she’s as much an expert on souls as she’ll ever be.  She keeps what she can of her nerves to herself. "I only have the knowledge in my head from when I was put in here so..."

"Hoping to get that to you sooner rather than later. Which..." Being unsure seemed to be something the pair shared in common, Riley’s certainly comes across. "When the time comes, do I just-"  Whatever follows that doesn’t translate across the link, but Alyssa can more or less put it together.  "Is there anything important I should know going into this?"

"Just cut them...maybe silence them. Having your soul torn out hurts, they'll be loud."

"Right." Riley murmurs out loud in the relative solitude of her shop. "I should hear back from my contact by noon tomorrow, and, if all goes well, you'll have your soul sometime tomorrow night." Then, as if to indicate her acknowledgement that time doesn’t mean much to Alyssa, "I'll keep you updated along the way."

"We can try something else Riley," Alyssa’s voice comes quiet this time.

It’s something Alyssa’s been dwelling on a great deal.  Soul magic, torture, these are the things that have lead to where she is today. "Maybe if we can just find her, we don't have to do any of this." Sigh is audible across the link. "Kat wanted me to do better, if we can do this another way..."

Disagreement palpable from the woman holding the weapon. "No. No, we can't leave anything to chance. Not if things are as bad as you say... As bad as I think, based on everything I found in her office." Determination fills Riley’s tone after a moment of silence. "If this is what it takes to get her back, it'll be worth it."

"Okay," Alyssa’s hesitation is hard to miss.  Now here at the finish line of the plan, she finds herself balking.. "Okay. Yes, we'll do this then. I'll figure it out.”  A pause, for a moment that might seem to be the end of this talk and yet Alyssa realizes she’s not yet willing to end the conversation. "How long did you know Kat?"

"Light, that's a good question..." The silence drags out, and when Riley finally replies it’s clear that she’s speaking out loud again.  Still good enough for Alyssa to hear.  "Feels like a lifetime, and not long enough, all at once." There's a smile in her voice, one touched by melancholy. "She's one of the only people in this world I've never once had to question whether or not they'd be there for me when I needed it. I can't tell you how many nights we've spent bellied up to a wobbly table at the Pig, talking over a split bottle of whiskey until well after last-call. Sometimes, we wouldn't go home even then - swiping a bottle from the bar and somehow managing to climb up to the rooftops without killing ourselves." There’s a laugh, and Alyssa can feel the hint of tears.  A sensation she shares as they speak of their missing companion. "I can sit in silence with her and feel at peace. No expectations, no forced pleasantries. No bullshit. She makes the world feel a little less lonely." Riley's voice cracked with emotion, and she took a minute to pull back and collect herself before speaking again. "What about you, how'd the two of you get tangled up with each other?"

Alyssa finds herself near choked with emotion, warmth flows over their shared link before she replies. "That sounds like Kat. Feel like it’s the Kat not a lot of people know these days, but still her."  A smile to herself in the woods, a hand pressing into the fur of the wolf.  "Oh...well it was over a year ago now. I was watching a friend's dog, took him for a walk out in the woods and ran into her by chance. We got talking, and we connected." It’s a happy memory.  One she doesn’t spend enough time with.  So much of the course of her life shifted on that chance meeting. "I don't find something kindred in many people but she's always been easy to connect with. Always there for me for whatever I need, big or small. Always pushing for me to grow as a person in dozens of little ways. Convinced me to get my business off the ground. Helped me learn to defend myself." Wistfulness, "only thing we were bad at was talking about feelings. I wish I'd told her I loved her before all this happened."

"Kat has a way of knowing things, reading people - probably why she's so damn good at her job." Another chuckle, warmth radiating from her side of the link. "You might not have said it out loud, but I bet she knows." A pause, and then, "I'll do what I can to see that you still get that chance, yeah? To say the words, and have her hear them."

"I did, in the end. Close to the end. She said it back...at least I think she did. The void and the Sleeping City were altering both of our minds at the time. I don't know what was real and what was manipulation." A wash of sadness. Until this very moment, Alyssa hadn’t really properly considered that the ‘I love you’ she got from Kat might have been another trick of the Void, manipulation.  None of those final moments might have been real.. "Your right either way. She knew...." A trail off before she returns to her original thought. "The fragment of her that she left in the blade, it takes the form of a white wolf. Does that mean anything to you?"

Riley’s soul shifts and moves in its space in the grove.  The spines lengthen, and the core closes in on itself.  Protection against the wave of sadness that comes from Alyssa, clearly protecting herself against falling down her own hole. No words, spoken or otherwise, accompanied this reaction, however. Instead, an air of downcast understanding could be felt. "No, unfortunately..." disappointment radiated briefly from her end as she huffed a sigh. "For everything I know about her, there's a whole lot more that she keeps hidden."

"Yeah...she keeps everything so separated. Okay thanks." The way Riley's soul reacted to that last thing makes Alyssa hesitant to press on anything else. "Well...let me know when it's time."

"It won't be long," Riley begins, though after a pause she adds, "Might check on you a time or two in the meantime, if you don't mind. Not really anyone else I can talk to about... well, all of this."

"Yeah, yeah of course. Like I've said, it's lonely in here. Talking helps. Whatever you need.”

"Thank you, Alyssa. I -" she cut herself short, energies shifting with her continued emotional withdrawal. There was something else to be said, surely, but Riley kept it to herself for the time being. "Talk soon." The connection faded, silence reining once more.

"Hey -" Riley's voice traversed the link, a moment offered for the other to respond before she continued.  Was it only a few minutes again?  No, it must’ve been longer, Alyssa is sure it’s been longer.  "I have news. Some of it might even be helpful."  The pain of sobriety radiated from Riley's end of the link, but within that swirling tempest, the faintest sliver of hope could be felt.

"Helpful news is good." Alyssa replies, her own hope radiating back when she picks up on Riley's.

"Just heard back from my contact. Seven individuals with the name 'Hawke' are listed among the survivors coming out of Uldum." A brief pause was given to allow that bit of information to sink in. "Two are located at the clinics here in the city - neither matched her description, but I followed up on the lead just in case. Strike one."

Alyssa mutters a swear in a language Riley likely doesn't recognize unless she speaks Eredun. "It's not an uncommon last name. That's a start. Where are the others?"

An unseen sense of understanding from Riley’s end. "Another was sent to an asylum." Another pause, recalling her immediate dread upon hearing that news, but quickly pushed it aside.

“Oh…” Alyssa starts to reply, but she stops when Riley continues.

"That was a bit more difficult to confirm with my own eyes - they're keeping those poor bastards under heavy lock and key - but it's not her. It's not Kat. Strike two." Hesitant relief.

The relief is echoed by the Warlock. "That sounded like a real possibility considering the state her mind was in when we parted. So what's the next step?"

"Well, that leaves the last four. All admitted to pop-up triage camps in Uldum, and only one that matches her description." A palpable, albeit brief sense of exhaustion crept over the link. "I don't want to put all of our eggs in one basket, but we're running out of time. And options." The break that followed, while absent of spoken thought, was anything but empty. Progress was being made, but it did nothing to abate her anxieties about what they'd find at the end of it all. "If we're in agreement, I'll see to the last bit of business tonight. And, once that's taken care of, I'll square away a port to Uldum, and we'll go from there."

Alyssa summons up her focus, burying her own anxieties and projects a fresh wave of calm. Summoning demons requires a great deal of self control, and so when she needs it, it's there. She puts that out through the link now, hiding her own anxiety beneath it.  Riley needs strength and assurance now.  "That is a good plan. I wish we had more time, that I could try more things. We should go and find out though."

"Are you sure you're on board with this?" Maybe it’s something in Alyssa’s tone, or maybe it’s reflection on the earlier hesitation Aly showed.  Either way Riley seems to need assurance that this is still the plan. "I don't want to rush you - we'll take this one step at a time, yeah? We just... we need to be efficient with the time we've got, and I'm fairly certain I can't do this without you." There was a pause, as though that fact was just then solidifying itself by way of admission. "I'm prepared to cross the next item off our list tonight, I just need to know you're with me, here."

"And to think you were ready to leave the chatty knife behind," Alyssa replies, trying to muster up some humor. A slow 'exhale' which isn't really a thing for her and yet the sigh comes through all the same. "Yes. This is the wrong time to have my conscience stir. I've taken plenty of souls, this is no time to balk. I'm with you."

"Guess you've grown on me a bit, what can I say?" A brief chuckle paused her train of thought, the faintest hint of a smile present through the link - though it was fleeting. "Thank you," her reply murmured aloud to the empty room, the sentiment genuine. "Dusk is only a few hours away. If all goes according to plan, you'll have your soul by midnight."

"Good. Like I said, even a small cut. Just be sure to silence them in some way. I'll do the rest."

"You're the boss." Riley let that comment sit in the silence that followed as the dagger was set carefully aside.

Alyssa watches the archway to Riley's soul close as contact breaks. A glance at the sleeping wolf. "This had better work. You're a terrible companion, you must be good for something."  There’s nothing more to be said for now.  Only stealing herself for the next step.

[ Written with @blue-eyedraven​; heavy mentions of @kat-hawke​ ]

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 6, Number 11

HAAi

As it was with September, so it is with October. After what felt like the dam breaking on all those albums optimistically held back by the pandemic, October continued to rain down releases and there was no shortage of them to cover. As ever, if diversity’s your thing, we have it: From pimp-rap to free jazz, death-metal to AM gold, jungle to Azerbaijani guitar jams, we got it all for you to peruse. Contributions this go ‘round come care of Ray Garraty, Ian Mathers, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Justin Cober-Lake, Patrick Masterson and MIchael Rosenstein.

AllBlack — No Shame 3 (Play Runners Association/Empire)

Just when we thought that pimp-rap was going out of business, AllBlack blessed us with No Shame 3. It is a lot of what it claims: playfulness with no shame, ignorant beefs, endless balling during California nights and showing off in earnest. AllBlack alludes to the fact that even though he’s getting that rap check, he’s far from quitting the pimp game: “Made 40K in eight days, that was just off pimpin'.” But behind this happy façade is something darker that’s looming on: “As I got older, I ain't scared, I guess I'm cool with death / You speak the truth and they gon' knock you down like Malcolm X.” While admitting that rap is a cutthroat game, AllBlack is only one of the few artists of a younger generation who is ready to pay respects in his songs to the OGs — the godfathers of pimp-rap, to Willie D, Dru Down and Too $hort. The standout track here is “Pizza Rolls,” where DaBoii and Cash Kidd drop in to deliver the funniest lines. 

Ray Garraty

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII (Three Lobed Recordings)

Adrop / Circuit VIII by Bardo Pond

There are plenty of reasons to do small, limited runs of certain releases, in music as in other artistic fields, ranging from the brutally practical/logistical to the aesthetic, but when the material released in that fashion is good enough, it can be a relief to see it given further life (and not just digitally). This year saw the mighty Three Lobed Recordings (who we featured in an anniversary Listed here) has seen fit to reissue on vinyl two Bardo Pond LP-length pieces that were originally issued in limited run series back in 2006 and 2008. They were in good (and varied) company then, but resonate together in a pretty special way, whether it’s the tripartite Adrop wandering from gnarled, crepuscular grind to violin-powered epiphany or back down to delicate nocturnal acoustics. The longer Circuit VIII doesn’t have as distinct phases but still builds to an all-time Bardo Pond-style crescendo, featuring Isabel Sollenberger’s only vocals of the duo. Even with a band and label this consistently on point, these particular recordings are worth the wider dissemination, whether considered as archival releases or just a hell of a double album.

Ian Mathers

John Butcher & Rhodri Davies — Japanese Duets (Weight of Wax)

Japanese Duets by John Butcher & Rhodri Davies

There’s a bittersweetness about Japanese Duets that’s as pungent as the puckered, perfectly placed reports that English saxophonist John Butcher sometimes punches out of his horns. This is the third in an ongoing series of download-only releases that Butcher, idled by COVID-19, has culled from his archive, The Memory of Live Music, and the unbearable lightness of its format, only accentuates the sense of lost opportunities and experiences. One of the things that a touring musician gains in exchange for their embrace of uncertainty is the chance to go to some unlikely place and undergo something extraordinary. The four-page PDF that comes with this download reproduces photos from Butcher and Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies’ 2004 tour of Japan, which took in swanky museums and shoebox-sized jazz cafes; each image looks like a moment worth living. But if all you can do is hear the evidence, that’s not exactly settling. This improvising duo was audibly on a roll, pushing reeds and strings to sound quite unlike their usual selves, and challenging each other to move beyond logic to the rightness of jointly made and imagined moments. Thanks, guys, for sharing the memories. 

Bill Meyer

Ceremonial Bloodbath — The Tides of Blood (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

The Tides of Blood by Ceremonial Bloodbath

Yikes — talk about truth in advertising. Canadian death-metal band Ceremonial Bloodbath delivers the goods promised by their moniker and this new LP’s title. It’s a repellent record created by dudes that play in a bunch of other death-metal bands based in British Columbia: Grave Infestation, Encoffinate (not Encoffination), Nightfucker and numerous others that tunnel even further under the broader public’s attention. Give these guys credit for their single-mindedness: None of those bands is likely to make you feel any happier about the human condition. Neither will listening to The Tides of Blood, but it’s a better record than any that those other acts have released. The songs are low-tech, dissonant and about as subtle as a bulldozer’s blade knocking through your front door. In other words, the record is largely in line with what we’ve come to expect from the death-metal recently dug up by Sentient Ruin Laboratories, and for a certain kind of listener, that’s a good thing. Check out “The Throat of Belial,” which comes on hard and fast, then downshifts into second gear and unleashes a tangled, coruscating sort-of-guitar-solo. The mechanical chug reasserts itself, then speeds up again, unleashing steam and the smell of something… organic. The song has a ruthless momentum, as does the rest of the record. Pretty good Halloween music if you want to scare all the trick-or-treaters off your lawn.

Jonathan Shaw

Cut Worms – Nobody Lives Here Anymore (Jagjaguwar)

Max Clarke evokes a wistful nostalgia for an America that existed perhaps only in the mind, the warm campfire glow of an era personified by The Everly Brothers’ harmonies, the twanging guitars of country rock and 1970s singer songwriters. On his new album as Cut Worms, Clarke literally doubles down on his musical project. Nobody Lives Here Anymore comes in at 17 songs that, while individually fine enough, meld into one another and gradually fade from the memory as the album unwinds. Clarke never quite transcends his influences and is not a strong enough lyricist to engage at this length. The effect is similar to that of The Traveling Wilburys where the whole is lesser than the sum of its parts. That said, Clarke is engaging company with a voice that splits the difference between the aforementioned siblings, Roy Orbison and Tom Petty. He has an ear for a melody and skillfully recreates an AM radio sound that trips the memory for anyone who grew up with this music either as inescapable background of their lives or soundtrack for their teen dreams and heartaches. 

Andrew Forell

Dead End America — Crush the Machine (Southern Lord)

Crush the Machine by Dead End America

This new EP by Dead End America (DEA — see what they did there?) comprises four short, piledriving hardcore songs, all directly addressed to the current occupant of the Oval Office. “Bullet for 45 (Straight From a .45)” neatly captures the EP’s essential sentiments, and also suggests the general level of restraint exercised by the whole enterprise. Hint: Restraint and nuance are not Dead End America’s strong suits. That’s not surprising, given the folks involved. The band and record were conceived by Steve “Thee Hippy Slayer” Hanford, late of Poison Idea, and of this world. It’s pretty wonderful that this is some of the last music Hanford produced — pissed off and irreverent to the very end. Additional contributors include Nick “Rex Everything” Oliveri (the Dwarves), Mike IX Williams (Eyehategod), Blaine Cook (the Fartz) and Tony Avila (World of Lies). Sort of remarkable that a record including players from all those legendarily vile, venomous bands doesn’t just spontaneously self-combust; maybe it helps that they focus their collective rage on such a deserving target. RIP Steve Hanford. The wrong people are dying.

Jonathan Shaw

Chloe Alison Escott — Stars Under Contract (Chapter Music)

Stars Under Contract by Chloe Alison Escott

Chloe Alison Escott is the frontwoman of Tasmanian post-punk duo The Native Cats, and her pre-transition solo album, The Long O, released on Bedroom Suck back in 2014, received justified plaudits upon its release. (It remains a low-key favorite of mine.) New solo piano-and-vocals album Stars Under Contract was all recorded in one day by Evelyn Ida Morris (Pikelet), which lends these performances an on-the-fly liveliness. For the most part, it’s rollicking fun, with some wryly funny lyrics that betray Escott’s sideline in standup comedy. This performative confidence comes through in early highlight “There’s Money in the Basement,” which has the jaunty barroom bounce of “Benny and the Jets.” Later, Escott reaches for the heavens on single “Back Behind the Eyes Again,” with a truly heartbreaking piano progression. Though the 16 tracks are wisely interspersed with short instrumentals such as “What Are You Reaching For,” “Evening, Sunshine” and “Playfair,” 43 minutes is a lot of piano-and-vocals songs to get through in a single sitting. On closing track “Permanent Thief,” there’s a tantalizing flash of drum machine and bass, which could be a nod there’s another Native Cats album on the way soon. 

Tim Clarke

Eiko Ishibashi — Mugen no Juunin - Immortal - Original Soundtrack (King)

If you sit up nights fretting about how Eiko Ishibashi and her partner, Jim O’Rourke, pay the bills, this music may be your melatonin for your worried mind. Immortal is the soundtrack for Blade of the Immortal, an anime adaption of a popular manga that’s been picked up by Amazon Prime. Ishibashi composed and played the music with contributions from Tetuzi Akiyama, joe Talia, Atsuko Hatano, and O’Rourke, who also mixed the music. Ishibashi’s music echoes the affect-stirring melodies of her song-oriented material and the careful sound placement of her recent electro-acoustic work for Black Truffle; when the swirl of keyboard tones looms over her piano on “Animal,” there’s no mistaking it for anyone else’s work. But this is still made for a mass market, with unabashed classical music lifts and big, booming electronic percussion that would make a multiplex’s walls throb if you gave it a chance. There’s no physical release or Bandcamp option, so if you want to check this out, Apple Music and iTunes are your options. 

Bill Meyer

Ela Minus — Acts of Rebellion (Domino)

Colombian musician Gabriela Jimeno’s debut album as Ela Minus is a collection of original tracks that merge songcraft and club sounds into an assured mix of electronica on which she plays all the instruments and sings in both Spanish and English. After spending her teenage years drumming for hardcore band Ratón Pérez, Jimeno studied jazz drums as well as the design and construction of synthesizers, and she eschews the use of computers to create her music. She brings a DIY spirit to her work combined with meticulous production style that gives acts of rebellion the experimental edge of early 1980s independent synthpop. The highlight "Megapunk” is musically close in spirit to Cabaret Voltaire, its defiant lyrics — “There’s No Way Out But to Fight” — tying freedom of expression to wider human progress. A textured and nuanced album, Ela Minus joins an ever-growing group of South American producers to tune into.

Andrew Forell

Erik Friedlander — Sentinel (Skipstone)

Sentinel by Erik Friedlander

Cellist Erik Friedlander seems to pop up in the oddest places, playing now with the Mountain Goats, then with Dave Douglas, and finding a little time for film scoring on the side. It's reasonable that for new album Sentinel, he'd connect with a couple of other artists — guitarist Ava Mendoza and percussionist Diego Espinosa — equally comfortable with finding unexpected sounds in a variety of styles. The group, given their background, sounds their best when they're blending genres. “Flash” starts off as new jazz, turns into rock for a moment, then some strange cello lead pushes it into alien territory. At the edges of the trio's work, heavy rock often feels about to break out, but the group refrains from ever indulging that impulse. “Feeling You” even provides some light, pretty pop, allowing the band to show its full breadth.

Friedlander's compositions provide the basis for the album, but Sentinel never feels like just his album. The band, assembled for what sounds like a hurried set of takes, found their partnership quickly, turning the pieces into fluid performances. “Bristle Cone” lets all three members shine and functions like a microcosm of the disc as a whole: As soon as you think it's a guitar album, you start paying attention to the percussive elements; as soon as you remember it's experimental cello work, you're back to guitar rock. The trio's engagement with the music and with each other comes through, the playful innovation guiding each piece into a multifaceted whole.

Justin Cober-Lake

HAAi — Put Your Head Above the Parakeets EP (Mute) 

Put Your Head Above The Parakeets by HAAi

Though it was Teneil Throssell’s mixes that initially made her name as HAAi (and remain strong even amid the pandemic, her latest for XLR8R another beauty), her own productions are a wonder unto themselves that demand repeat listens even as they come a trickling single or carefully cultivated EP at a time. The Karratha, Australia native, Coconut Beats hostess and Rinse and Worldwide FM veteran’s latest is the delightfully titled Keep Your Head Above the Parakeets EP, pure headphones music meant for sunrises, sunsets, walks in deep snow, rain-swept moors, you name it. Her talent is in balancing airy synth melodies with ever-shifting percussion influenced primarily by jungle, breaks and (ultimately) house; when people talk about psychedelic dance music, this is something like what I always hope to hear. Another unmissable missive.

Patrick Masterson

Hübsch, Martel, Zoubek — Ize (Insub)

Ize by HÜBSCH, MARTEL, ZOUBEK

Decades have passed since Derek Bailey wrote his book, Improvisation. At that time, it was already clear that the intentionally non-idiomatic music he pioneered and practiced was a subset of the more universal matter of improvising as a necessary aspect of playing music. It was also becoming clear that non-idiomatic improvisation’s aspirations and proscriptions amounted to a new but quite identifiable idiom, and this Swiss trio is okay with that. If you told Carl Ludwig Hübsch (tuba, objects),Pierre-Yves Martel (viola da gamba harmonica, pitch pipes) and Philip Zoubek (piano, synthesizer) that the music on Ize sounds a bit like the British ensemble AMM’s, they’d likely nod and thank you for noticing. They’re not trying to make a new kind of music, they’re trying to be good at a kind of music that they love, and on those terms, they succeed. Aside from the occasional Feldman-esque piano phrase, they mostly trade in layers of tone and texture, operating in complementary parallel to one another, taking the listener through states of meditative stillness and slow-motion vertigo. 

Bill Meyer

J Majik — Your Sound - Photek & Digital V​.​I​.​P 12” (Infrared) 

J Majik - Your Sound - Photek & Digital V.I.P by J Majik / Photek / Digital

Released on the same day as the “This Sound” single that allegedly was refashioned from “unfinished jungle project from the vaults,” “Your Sound” was further proof that UK drum n’ bass vet Jamie Spratling bka J Majik still has plenty of material from the golden era to get out into the world. The original is a certified mid-’90s Metalheadz classic, but Photek and Digital’s reworking on the a-side “originally only destined for the dubplate boxes of the ultra-elite” has been floating in the ether for years as an alternative; its light Amen sequences and booming bass will have you yearning for every closed club you can’t attend. J Majik’s remix of his own tune on the flip was originally the b-side to a 1997 Goldie VIP edit, so having a more readily available remaster here does it a world of good. One for the headz, obviously.

Patrick Masterson

KTL — VII (Editions Mego)

VII by KTL

Most of KTL’s recordings have been seeded by theater and film soundtrack commissions. But when Stephen O’Malley (Sunn 0))), Khanate) and Peter Rehberg (Pita, Fenn O’Berg) found themselves in Berlin this past March with more time on their hands than they expected, they booked themselves into Mouse On Mars’ MOM Paraverse Studio sans portfolio and set to work. The first track, “The Director,” seems to acknowledge the situation by introducing the Shephard-Risset glissando, a repeated scale that sounds like it is endlessly ascending or descending. The titular figure never arrives, but while you’re waiting, fat looped electronics impart the experience of going somewhere while leaving you exactly where you’re at. The director isn’t the only value missing from this equation; O’Malley’s default sonic signature, a massive metallic wall of sound, has been softened to a close-shaving buzz that rattles and circles around within Rehberg’s synthetic/sonic biodome. That’s right, while you’ve been baking bread and putting on that COVID-15, KTL has actually lost weight! 

Bill Meyer

Lisa Cay Miller/Vicky Mettler/Raphaël Foisy-Couture — Grind Halts (Notice Recordings)

Grind Halts by Lisa Cay Miller/Vicky Mettler/Raphaël Foisy-Couture

Montreal-based guitarist Vicky Mettler, bassist Raphaël Foisy-Couture and Vancouver-based pianist Lisa Cay Miller are all new names to me. For their trio collaboration on Notice Recordings, the three work their way through a set of eight free improvisations that range from one and a half minutes to eight minutes long. The combination of piano, guitar and upright bass is striking from the start: Miller slips seamlessly between the keyboard and inside-string preparations, mostly eschewing readily identifiable sonorities of her instrument. Mettler’s resonant, brittle electric guitar is the perfect foil to Miller’s piano and one often has a hard time teasing apart where inside piano strings end and guitar strings begin. Add to that Foisy-Couture’s dark low-end bass, which he attacks with groaning scrapes, shuddering arco and assorted string treatments. The three engage in active improvisations, plying their respective instruments into a collective whole while steering clear of garrulous interaction. The fourth piece, “Lower” is as close to trio exchanges as things get, opening up the ensemble sound to allow shredded guitar textures, resounding piano chords and scabrous bass abrasions to accrue into pulsating timbral layers. A piece like “As It Spins” is more about process, adding in the rumble and clatter of assorted percussive detritus, used on their own and to activate the strings of the instruments, which jangle with resultant shimmering overtones. The pieces often segue one into the other, creating an enveloping sound-space throughout. Based on this one, I look forward to hearing more from each of the participants.

Michael Rosenstein

Mint Field — Sentimiento Mundial (Felte)

Sentimiento Mundial by Mint Field

Mexico City-based duo Estrella del Sol Sánchez (voice, guitar) and Sebastian Neyra (bass) enlist drummer Callum Brown to expand the range of their dreamily psychedelic shoegaze on Mint Field’s second album Sentimiento Mundial. Sánchez has the breathy cadence of Rachel Goswell and moves easily between an almost folky introspection in her guitar playing to squalling walls of sound underpinned by Brown’s often motorik drums on tracks like “Contingenicia” and “No te caigas.” The bulk of the album is more reflective, Sánchez’ Spanish vocals close to your ear as she concentrates on atmosphere and dynamics. The result is a dreamscape that lulls, then hits with febrile bursts of restless dread, an impressive collection that fans of 4AD in particular should recognize and embrace. 

Andrew Forell

Takuji Naka/Tim Olive — Minouragatake (Notice Recordings)

Minouragatake by Takuji Naka/Tim Olive

Minouragatake (a mountain outside of Kyoto, Japan) is the fourth recording by Takuji Naka and Tim Olive, a duo that has played together for close to a decade now, melding together music of slowly evolving rich timbral abstraction. Each are consummate collaborators and for this session, they make their way across the seven untitled tracks with steadfast focus to the nuanced details of their respective sound sources. Naka utilizes “long loops of sagging/distressed cassette tape winding into and out of similarly distressed portable tape players, with real-time analog processing.” Olive uses his regular array of magnetic pickups and low-tech analog electronics, drawing out volatile hums and changeable striations that coalesce with his partner’s slowly devolving layers of sound. These pieces are imbued with unflappable deliberation, each sound integrated into the cohesive, gradually unfolding improvisations. Each of the pieces sound as if one is tuning in mid-stream and end with a sense that they could continue on indefinitely. Rather than adhering to any formal developmental arcs, the two patiently sit within unfurling sonic worlds as layers ebb and flow. Naka’s degraded tapes lend an aura of catching wafts from some distant celestial emission which Olive subtly shades and colors with hisses, whispered mutable fuzzed gradations and aural grit. Snatches of scumbled lyricism morph into static-laden swirls; washes of flaked and tattered textures disperse into shuddering thrums. Naka doesn’t record much so it’s good to hear another project from him. Olive has been on a particular roll as of late and this one is a laudable addition to his discography.

Michael Rosenstein

Okuden Quartet — Every Dog Has Its Day But It Doesn’t Matter Because Fat Cat Is Getting Fatter (ESP-Disk)

Every Dog Has Its Day But It Doesn't Matter Because Fat Cat Is Getting Fatter by Okuden Quartet: Mat Walerian/Matthew Shipp/William Parker/ Hamid Drake

Put aside the bleakness of this double album’s title because this music embodies the idea that things can get better. Not that there was anything wrong with Polish woodwinds player Mat Walerian’s previous recordings, which have all involved some combination of the musicians on this one. But Walerian has never sounded so strong on his various instruments (alto saxophone, bass and soprano clarinets, flute); so clear on how to get the most out of Matthew Shipp, William Parker and Hamid Drake; or so engaged with jazz, and not just the free jazz that he’s made with these gentlemen to date. By turns subdued, impassioned and bathed in all the shades of the blues, Walerian no longer sounds like a guy who has great taste in sidemen who happen to have played with some of the greats of our time, but a guy who sounds like he belongs in their company. Each lengthy track (they range from 11 to 18 minutes long) imparts a narrative feel without dispelling the mystery that makes you want to hear them again. Here’s hoping that when things start moving again, this band finds a way to move around the world and move us in person. 

Bill Meyer

Om — It’s About Time (Intakt) 

It’s About Time by OM - Urs Leimgruber, Christy Doran, Bobby Burri, Fredy Studer

To a fan, It’s About Time might sum up the feeling upon learning that the Swiss quartet Om finally recorded a new studio album 40 years after its predecessor, Cerberus (ECM). It also captures the existential question facing a quartet of improvisers, some of whose paths have often crossed during that time, but some of whom have taken very different roads. On the one hand, drummer Fredy Studer and guitarist Christy Doran play in a Jim Hendrix cover band with Jamaladeen Tacuma; on the other, soprano saxophonist Urs Leimgruber works mainly in freely improvised settings with the likes of Alvin Curran and Joelle Leandre these days. Burri seems to be the guy who has maintained connections with everybody. How to make sense of such a history without denying anyone’s musical identity? During their first go-around, between 1972 and 1982, Om was played polyrhythmic electric jazz. During the mostly low-profile gigs they’ve played since reconvening in 2008, they’ve had time to forge an updated vocabulary that is less groove-oriented but takes full advantage of the timbral resources on hand. While it’s evident that time has passed, it’s by no means a waste of time. 

Bill Meyer

Rüstəm Quliyev — Azerbaijani Gitara (Bongo Joe)

Azerbaijani music, by and large, hasn't broken through to the American mainstream. That might not change, but the new anthology release of Rüstəm Quliyev's work, titled Azerbaijani Gitara, at least makes a case against our insularity. Quliyev's work, even for an insider, would be hard to pin down given that the overriding goal seems to be the synthesis of as many styles of music as possible. Western ears will be most comfortable with the psych-rock influences here. Quliyev also reworks Bollywood, folk, Middle Eastern dance and more on his electric guitar. Taken from recordings from 1999-2004, this nine-song collection sounds more coherent than that idea might suggest, but no less frantic. Quliyev plays with a persistent energy, his kinetic approach matched my his chops, often with a tone reminiscent of Carlos Santana (if we reach a little). On songs like “İran Təranələri,” he allows the piece to develop patiently, but these cuts rely on movement and virtuosity. Quliyev had a challenging life cut short by lung cancer, but his music finds itself unleashed through apparent joy.

Justin Cober-Lake

ShooterGang Kony — Still Kony 2 (Empire) 

A fortnight shy of his 22nd birthday (this coming Wednesday, mark your calendars and send best wishes), Sacramento rapper ShooterGang Kony has dropped his second full-length project of the year in Still Kony 2, a skit-free set of songs with a Biggie homage as the cover that explores further his emotional depths while still retaining the bouncy Bay Area nature of his livelier side. There’s stuff like “Red Ice” and “Fasholy Good,” of course, but there’s also the stretch of sobering songs later in the tracklist, including “Overdose,” “Flaggin” and the particularly affecting “Do or Die.” No matter the type of beat, though, Kony feels completely at ease with his cadence and wholly in control of his verses despite occasionally verging on a Detroit-like dismissal of the beat. Even if you can’t see the geekin’, you can certainly feel it.

Patrick Masterson

Suuns — Fiction EP (Joyful Noise)

FICTION EP by SUUNS

For better or worse, Suuns’ new Fiction EP is pretty much the sound of 2020 encapsulated, not in the sense of distilling current musical trends, but rather in succinctly conveying the disorientating feeling of living through a year that has been such a traumatic mess. Across these six tracks, the Montreal-based band creates a fuzzy, feedback-streaked, claustrophobic racket that just about coalesces into song forms around breakneck rhythm tracks. “Fiction” and “Pray” will meet the expectations of anyone expecting Suuns to continue sounding like fellow noise-rockers Clinic, but elsewhere there’s surprising variation to the band’s sound palette. Opener “Look” emerges out of the darkness like a warped apparition, concluding with a chant of what sounds like “Sheep, sheep, sheep.” They enlist the help of Jerusalem In My Heart for droning instrumental “Breathe,” and Amber Webber lends ghostly vocals to “Death.” At the EP’s end, the Mothers of Invention’s wailing blues-rock classic “Trouble Every Day” is barely recognizable, foregrounding Zappa’s lyrics and chewing them up into a garbled rush of splenetic invective. Though short, there’s something satisfyingly ghastly and cathartic about this EP that really cuts through.

Tim Clarke

Women — Rarities 2007-2010 (Flemish Eye/Jagjaguwar) 

Rarities 2007 - 2010 by Women

Some outlets rode much harder for Women than others when the band was still a dysfunctioning unit (RIP Cokemachineglow, namely), but there’s little doubt left a decade on that what the Calgary quartet had going was a volatile yet beautiful indie-rock ideal that hasn’t been duplicated in Viet Cong/Preoccupations or Cindy Lee since. These rarities, affixed to a deluxe decennial reissue of Public Strain due out in November, could all have made the final tracklistings of either of their full-lengths. The music veers between sunny ‘60s singalongs and dark guitar dissonance; I find myself thinking of The Walkmen’s first LP on “Bullfight” (a free release from 2011 in the aftermath of the band’s collapse the year before) and of The Chameleons on “Group Transport,” which is considerably more Janus-faced with its juxtaposed harmonies, for example. It took me much longer than it should have to come around on Women, but in case you’re still on the fence or also just never got around to them in the first place, perhaps this small coda will sway you in their favor once and for all.

Patrick Masterson

Yo La Tengo — Sleepless Night EP (Matador)

In July, Yo La Tengo released the abstract, droning instrumental EP We Have Amnesia Sometimes, harking back to the sound of their excellent soundtrack album The Sounds of the Sounds of Science (2002). This new Sleepless Night EP brings together five covers and one original, first released in conjunction with an L.A. exhibition by Japanese artist Yoshitomo Nara, who helped the band pick the songs. Sleepless Night opens with “Blues Stay Away” by The Delmore Brothers and “Wasn’t Born to Follow” by The Byrds, both fairly straight renditions of the blues and country-rock originals. The real keeper in this collection comes next in the form of Ronnie Lane’s “Roll On Babe,” beautifully sung by Georgia, which hypnotizes with its languid sway. Their cover of Dylan’s “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry” also has Georgia take the lead over beatless organ, bass and guitar. “Bleeding” is the sole original, a shimmering atmospheric piece with ghostly vocals from Ira, which dissolves in a pool of pitchshifted reverb. Finally, “Smile a Little Smile for Me” strips out the rhythm section from the Flying Machine original and slows the tempo, Ira’s measured vocal performance lending the song an affectingly forlorn slant. Though the material here offers few surprises, it’s a reassuring release from a justifiably loved band at a time when we could all use a little more reassurance.

Tim Clarke

[artsymew]

Hadn’t realized how much I craved Contestshipping content until I started writing it again. Felt compelled enough to write 1k+ on Drew finally getting some new pants -  its a public service at this point. You can also read it (and the previous story for context, though not required) here.

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“You need new pants.”

Drew finishes his espresso, throwing the Sawsbucks cup in a nearby bin. May hungrily takes another bite of her bagel, staring unsatisfyingly at Drew’s pants.

“I suppose you’re right,” Drew picks at the frays lining the tear, frowning. “These were my favorite.”

May’s cringe goes by unnoticed at his statement. He’s handsome; anyone with a pair of working eyes can tell. His elegant and suave contest persona make him a popular coordinator. He’s always a step ahead of her. She sometimes finds these qualities unfair, but looking at those pants…

Arceus must have decided to be fair; he gave Drew a terrible sense of style.

“Let’s go shopping!” she insists, “we got here early, and we were just looking around today.”

“Wait, we?”

“Yeah! What else am I supposed to do while waiting for you?”

“Practice your appeals?” he answers as if it’s obvious. May sighs, he has a point. She should practice with Glaceon given that the warmer weather affects ice-type attacks…but…

She glances at those pants again. Their color reminiscent of her first impression of Drew all those years ago: obnoxious. She never cared much before, dismissing them as an odd Larousse fashion. But all those same years of getting to know him – growing closer - made those once-tolerable pants increasingly noticeable.

As her friend Dawn would likely say: not helping someone in need of fashion advice is a disservice.    

Arceus knows he needs it.

“Our Pokémon just healed up,” she reasons, “I’d rather give them more time to rest before practicing. Plus, I already planned to shop a little later anyways!”

Drew prepares another excuse, but seeing May beaming up at him excitedly doesn’t exactly help in his favor. A few more seconds pass but the fiery determination shining in her big, blue eyes doesn’t dim. Honestly, he should have expected this.

He sighs, defeated.

“I guess having you as a second opinion wouldn’t be the worst that’s happened to me today.”

Drew’s a simple guy when it comes to clothes: he finds something practical; he wears it. It’s simplicity he engages in outside of coordinating, preferring to leave the showing-off to his Pokémon. He’s worn these pants since the beginning of his journey and they’ve lasted, needing to only roll up the cuffs during his growth spurt. He also doesn’t mind their color, thinking it quite nice. Though, he knew he would have to change them eventually.  

Just not to the khaki pants May’s showing him.

“Drew! This shade goes well with your hair color!” she lifts them closer to him eagerly, then another glimmer catches her eye, “oh! those red ones would look great too!”

“Sure, the red ones are nice,” he shrugs as May beams, “if I wanted to look like a Christmas tree.”

Drew stifles a laugh when face morphs into a frown and she huffs away to another rack. It’s the fifth store they’ve gone into. Fifth. He found something at the first one yet May insisted they compare other options. She could probably go on for hours and its already nearing noon. He knew he was going to regret this. Why did he let her come along again?

She’s currently holding a pair of navy-blue pants and staring intently at Drew’s hair when she catches his gaze. She smiles sheepishly, a light blush dusting her cheeks. His heart flutters.

Ah. That’s why. Stupid feelings.

Still, as much as he enjoys spending time with her, his general disinterest for shopping and his exposed knee-cap urge him to wrap this up.  

May practically skips to meet him, another pair of pants in hand. “Any luck finding something?”

Time to be honest with her.

“Look May, I appreciate your help, but I’ll just look for something later.”

He immediately feels like an ass when her expression falls.

“Oh…” she clutches the pants, “I’m sorry Drew. Guess I got carried away. You don’t like doing this kinda stuff, do you?” She tries smiling at him. “I’ll wait while you look for some- “

“Actually,” he interrupts a little desperately, gesturing at the pair she’s holding, “those ones aren’t bad.”

Drew honestly hadn’t paid much attention to the ones she’d been holding. So, here he was in the dressing room much to May’s excitement and his dismay. Unlike his pants these were plain, black cargos. An interesting choice considering her attempts so far to try out “fashionable” statements. Though not something he saw himself picking out, they’re surprisingly comfortable and fit him well. He tucks in the violet shirt he did pick out (that looks very similar to the one he already owns) and exits the stall.

May’s waiting on the bench nearby. She smiles wide when she sees him, rushing up to him.

“Drew!” she gasps, clasping her hands together. Her smile turns a bit smug, “I knew these would suit you!”

Drew’s too taken aback at her enthusiastic response to remark. Contest-Drew would typically brush it off with a flick of his hair and a confident attitude. Normal-Drew, on the other hand, doesn’t know how to handle compliments from May, his rival and the girl he’s been hopelessly in love with for years.

So, he just stands there, eyes wide and blushing and willing himself to snap out of it. Meanwhile, May’s too focused on inspecting his outfit to notice. Her eyes narrow. “Wait, your shirt looks a bit off…”

She steps forward, reaching to undo the top button of his shirt and Drew (if even possible) turns a darker shade of red. She’s too close. Close enough to view how impossibly blue her eyes are through long lashes. Close enough to feel her breath tickle his neck as she fixes his collar. Close enough to smell the sweet perfume she tried on at one of the stores. Close enough to hear her heart beat over his own booming thrum while she gently loosens the tuck on his shirt.

Close enough that, if she allowed him, he could find out the taste of her lips.

“There…” she admires her work, oblivious to the flustered mess she’s rendered her rival in. It’s only when she looks up and notices how red he is – how lovely flecks of jade appear up close in his gorgeous forest eyes - that she realizes what she’s doing.

Now she’s blushing.

“I-I’m so sorry!” she jumps away, arms flailing. “I didn’t mean-- I j-just wanted to fix the button and then saw how the collar was a bit wrinkled and—and---"  

Seeing how she’s out-flustering him, Drew clears his throat to regain his composure. “Don’t worry, I know its hard for you to keep your hands off me.”

She stops rambling and glares at him, cheeks puffing out in annoyance. He finds it both amusing and adorable thinking how she resembles a Cherubi. “You’re so full of it.”

“If by ‘it’ you mean good lucks and a sharp wit, then you’re absolutely right, May”. He flicks his hair, mostly because he knows doing so will further infuriate her. He holds in a chuckle when it does.

“Well, what do you think of them?”

Right, he had yet to opinion on these pants. Pondering, he tugs at the rough fabric, sliding his hands in their large pockets (another plus) before answering. “I didn’t have high expectations,” he smirks when May pouts, “but they’re comfortable. If they have you practically swooning, they probably don’t look bad either.”

“Hey! I’m just glad you like something I picked out,” she crosses her arms defensively. Then she’s looking at her shoes, attempting to hide another blush. “And you do look really good, so…”

He’s convinced.

After paying for the clothes at the register, he wears them out the store. May’s gloating in her success, but he figures he’ll let her be for now. Instead, he holds his old pants in front of him, looking wistful. “Shame I have to part with these though,” May turns to him curiously, “maybe I could turn them into shorts.”

“Please don’t.”

.

[nicoismywaifu]

Eclectic Influences, or, Silly Love Songs

Summary: Nico finds her father’s old guitar, gets some lessons from Eli and decides to sing some love songs for Maki. Or something like that. Word count: ~6000 Estimated reading time: ~30 minutes, according to http://niram.org/read/ AO3 link: here! Notes: It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten what I usually write here. If you like a certain rock band from the 1960′s, there are a few nods to them here. If you don’t, then you might want to read something else...

As was the tradition they had built over the year, Nico sat perched beside Maki at the piano bench as the latter ran through her pet pieces to play. Well, it was more like Nico was perched on Maki, but that didn’t distract Maki from delivering a soulful rendition of Debussy.

‘Maki-chan’s so talented,’ Nico cooed as the song ended, nuzzling herself against Maki’s shoulder. ‘It makes Nico want to play an instrument, too!’

‘What about the maracas?’ suggested Maki.

‘No way! First off, that’s Rin’s trademark and secondly, they’re so not cool. Nico needs something cute and amazing, like a guitar! Think of how cool it would look in photoshoots, and then bringing it out on stage and amazing everyone with a sweet serenade!’

Maki sighed and set down the piano’s fallboard. Nico had that look in her eyes. No doubt she was already dreaming of the Budokan, or perhaps the Tokyo Dome. ‘A loud instrument for a loud girl,’ she said, snapping Nico back in the direction of reality.

Nico narrowed her eyes. ‘You mean a dashing instrument for the number one idol in the universe, right?’

‘Sure, let’s go with that.’ Stretching her arms up into the air, Maki yawned and looked at the room’s clock. A good few hours had passed, although it sure hadn’t felt that way. ‘I think it’s about time to head home.’

‘Ah, you’re right.’ Nico copied Maki’s actions contagiously. ‘Kokoro and Kokoa are gonna complain again if I get back too late.’

And with that shift in topic, Maki could again tell that Nico had forgotten all about picking up an instrument in the first place as she got up and made for the door. Such a fickle minded girlfriend. It was endearing, but also a little disappointing to Maki.

‘You can learn any instrument as long as you spend more time here with me,’ Maki murmured as she closed the door behind them.

‘Sorry,’ said Nico, distractedly looking up in the midst of messaging her siblings. ‘What was that?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Of course Kotarou broke another toy with his hammer.’ Nico grumbled to herself as she held in her hands what was once a dinosaur plushie, before her brother had made it well and truly extinct. It was not what she was hoping to come back home to after the school day. ‘And of course Nico has to put it in the basement. With all the other broken toys.’

She flicked the switch at the top of the stairs before making her way into the depths, an abyss of junk, junk and more junk. All hand-me-downs from one Yazawa sibling to another. Until they got to Kotarou, anyway.

‘We have got to sort this out one day,’ Nico muttered to herself, displacing boxes and paraphernalia in order to tidy up and create some more space. As she did so, however, something hard and weighty became dislodged and made a beeline for Nico’s temple. After hitting the target, it then made a heavy smack on the concrete flooring.

‘Ouch! Son of a-‘

Rubbing her tender spot, Nico’s anger turned to curiosity as she regarded the object more closely.

‘Huh? What’s this?’

She didn’t know what to make of it – the solid hunk of polymer plastic which had high-fived her scalp a few seconds before. Around one meter in length, two or three thick paperbacks in depth, roughly oar shaped, although that wasn’t quite right. There were several dull silver hinges along its side which were too inviting for the item within to remain unsealed.  

Nico unclasped the hinges, opened up the case and there it was.

An old, worn red acoustic guitar.

The body was dusted over and the strings had the murk of rust on them. The lacquer of the finish had faded in parts and worn through to the wood beneath. And as she leaned in closer, she could make out the scent of must. But even with how old and disused it looked, Nico felt an odd gravitation towards it.

Nico scooped the guitar into her arms and made her way back up the stairs, having forgotten what she was ever down there for in the first place. She found her mother who had just returned from work and had settled at the low, Japanese-style table for dinner.

‘Mama?’ said Nico, holding up the guitar in her hands. ‘What’s this?’

‘Oh!’ Nico’s mother stood up from the table with excitement. ‘That’s your father’s old acoustic. Wow, that brings back memories.’

‘Papa played guitar?’

‘Yep. He would sing you lullabies before bed, or whenever you were crying. You used to love it when you were a toddler.’

‘I don’t remember any of this,’ Nico replied.

‘Maybe you were too young. But I remember him serenading me with some silly love songs back in the day. Beatles songs and all that. It was romantic. A little cheesy, but romantic.’

Nico could only feel a small melancholy at not having those memories. ‘Papa…’

Smiling, Nico’s mother reached across and patted her eldest’s head. So her daughter was still a daddy’s girl, even after all this time. ‘Your father always said it was a good sounding guitar. And if you just give it a clean and change the strings, it should be playable.’

Nico couldn’t hide her surprise – the clump of wood in her hands seemed as far from new as was humanly possible. ‘Really?’

Her mother smiled. ‘Just give it a try.’

One afterschool trip to the local music store and some YouTube tutorials later, Nico had finished fitting a new set of bronze strings to her father’s guitar. She had also made a few passes with a damp cloth before admiring her handiwork.

Her mother was right. With a bit of effort, the guitar now at least looked like it was capable of making sound.

‘Now, I just have to tune it…’

She sat up on her bed and laid the guitar across her legs. The timber was cool against the flesh of her thighs as Nico tried to suss out the instrument.

This arm went here and that one went there, right? And then she’d hold the pick in that hand and then play the strings? Which way around did the pick go? No matter where she held it, it felt alien to her. She took a quick strum anyway.

On its own, the guitar made a strange, tuneless sound. Nico didn’t get it.

‘You used to play this, Papa?’ Nico asked the empty room. ‘To play love songs?’ She didn’t get a response. Sighing, she nestled the guitar back in its case.

Her feet dragging her along almost unconsciously, Nico brooded over the afterschool meeting she had with her teacher about the grades on her practice exam.

Didn’t they know? Becoming a super idol takes a lot of work and dedication! Why would she let mere schoolwork get in the way of that?

The meeting had delayed Nico from her usual attendance in the music room with Maki.

She stopped short of entering, content with peering through the window unnoticed. Being by Maki’s side as she played was wonderful, but there was a majesty to watching her work the ivory from a distance. The way she exuded dignity and control over every single bar of music; how she closed her eyes and expressed the voice inside herself through the instrument. It was always captivating for Nico.

Nico was taken out of this reverie by a tap at her shoulder. She turned to find a smiling Eli. From the folders she was carrying under a wedged arm, Nico surmised she was in the middle of some student council errands.

‘Hey.’

‘Heya, Eli.’

‘Not going in?’

Nico shook her head before returning her gaze to Maki. ‘It’s times like this that Nico wishes she could play an instrument as well,’ she said, a wistful tinge in her voice. ‘I did find a guitar the other day, but I have no idea how to play it.’

‘A guitar?’ Eli asked. ‘I know a few chords. I’d be more than happy to teach you, if you like?’

‘Really?’ Nico couldn’t hide the surprise forming on her face. ‘They have guitars in Russia?’

‘Yes, Nico. Guitars exist in Russia. We even have a thing called a balalaika, which is like a Russian guitar. But that’s not the point.’

The two fell quiet for a moment, such that the only noise was the muffled piano from the music room. Maki’s music and songs, which meant so much to her. That was the only moment that Nico needed to decide.

‘I think I’ll take you up on that, Eli.’

Now that she thought about it, this was the first time Nico had been to Eli’s place, let alone her room.

‘Pardon the intrusion…’

For Nico, Eli’s room was reflective of her personality. Books were all put away and sorted into their shelves, there was a clear desk for studying at and a small speaker system for some music. There was also nowhere near enough pink for Nico’s taste. Though there was a suspicious amount of purple…

It was best not to dwell on that, thought Nico. She settled onto the, sigh, purple bedsheets and released her guitar from its case. Eli soon joined her, unzipping her gig bag and unsheathing her own acoustic. Thankfully for Nico’s sanity, it wasn’t purple, rather the parchment like colour of natural, unvarnished timber.

‘Well then,’ Eli said kindly. ‘Shall we begin?’

Nico nodded before settling the instrument across her legs. No sooner than she did that, however, Eli gave her a strange look.

‘I haven’t played anything yet,’ said Nico, shifting her body with unconscious nervousness.

‘Well unless you became left handed overnight, you’re holding the guitar backwards right now.’

‘I-I knew that!’

‘Sure,’ Eli said, before leaning over towards Nico. She took the guitar from Nico’s hands, and brought it so that it was oriented correctly. ‘Left hand goes on the neck; right hand holds the pick. I know that sounds counterintuitive, but just do it.’

Nico did as she was instructed. Eli wasn’t kidding – it felt completely alien.

‘With your left hand, place your fingers down and press the strings to the board. Then strum the strings with your right hand.’

Once more, Nico followed Eli’s instructions. The guitar made a tuneless racket, but Eli still nodded in approval. ‘Good. Just get used to the sensation for now.’

Nico took in the feeling – the vibration of the guitar’s neck in her left hand, the tense metal strings against her fleshy fingertips. She wondered, could people really get used to this?

‘Hey Eli,’ Nico decided to ask after a few strums, ‘why did you learn the guitar of all instruments?’

‘The same reason most people decide to learn the guitar,’ Eli answered. ‘To impress girls.’

‘Did that work on Nozomi?’

Eli puffed her chest. ‘It sure did! I’d come over to her apartment and serenade her with some Beatles songs, and then we’d cuddle up on the bed or the couch and, um, well… Anyway! Your guitar!’

Nico stopped strumming and looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘It has a nice sound to it. How’d you get hold of it?’

‘This was my Papa’s guitar,’ replied Nico. ‘I found it in our basement. I don’t think anyone’s touched it in years.’

‘I’m surprised it’s in such good shape,’ Eli remarked. ‘Spending that long in a basement, you’d think that the humidity would’ve bent the neck or body and make it unplayable. Can I have a go?’

‘Sure,’ said Nico, curious as to how her father’s guitar would sound in someone else’s hands.

Eli received the guitar, placed it across her lap and strummed it a few times before picking out a few notes. ‘Let’s see, what should I play… I guess you can’t go wrong with some love songs.’

‘Love songs…’ Nico murmured.

‘And if it’s love songs, it has to be the Beatles,’ Eli concluded. She fished a clamp like object from her bedside table and affixed it to the neck of the guitar she held in her hands. She answered Nico’s unasked question as follows: ‘A capo. It presses the strings at a certain part of the neck, so you can play in a different key. It’s handy – but you don’t need to worry about that yet. Now then…’

Nico watched as Eli took a breath, then gave all her concentration to the guitar and voice as she started the song – a soft and quiet ballad.

I once had a girl, or should I say

She once had me;

She showed me her room

Isn’t it good, Norwegian Wood,

She told me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,

So I looked around and I noticed there wasn’t a chair…

It was the first time Nico had ever paid attention to someone other than Maki playing an instrument. A different feeling was evoked in her. Eli was good, no doubt about that, but not quite Maki good. And not as pretty, said something else in Nico’s brain.

But music was music, and it was beautiful all the same. As Eli concluded the song, however, there was a question Nico couldn’t help but ask.

‘Is that really a love song? It sounded like you were going to burn someone’s house down in the end.’

Eli opened her mouth to reply, then closed it.

‘Shut up, Nico.’

Maki found herself alone in the music room once more - Nico hadn’t turned up yesterday as well. Maybe she had to take care of her siblings again? Or perhaps she had gotten a part-time job and didn’t have the chance to tell her?

Maki went for her phone and tapped away at the screen.

M: Nico-chan? You aren’t coming to the music room today?

N: sorry <(_ _)>

N: nico made plans with eli today

M: Eli and Nozomi?

N: nah, just eli

Maki paused at this for a moment.

M: Oh.

N: i hope you’re still in the music room like a good girl!

N: nico nii loves her super talented girlfriend ^_^

M: Whatever.

Thankful that text couldn’t give away the grin on her face, Maki picked up the piano fallboard and pondered what to play next.

‘Since you’ve gotten the hang of E and E minor, we’ll be moving to a different chord.’ Eli placed one finger across several strings in horizontal, then strummed it out.

‘Second fret of the D string, G string and B string,’ Eli explained over the sound. ‘That’s an A major chord.’

Nico giggled. ‘G string.’

‘Seriously? Now if you shift your finger on the B string down a fret, you’ll be fingering A minor-‘

Nico snorted.

‘Oh, come on!’

‘I can’t help it!’ Nico laughed as she grabbed her phone from the bedroom table. ‘I’ve gotta tell Honoka and Rin what you said.’

Eli groaned, not knowing why she had expected otherwise. Nico might’ve been older than Eli, but she sure didn’t act like it. She sure didn’t look like it either. But Nico would probably take a swing at her if she said that, and she was armed with a guitar.

As such, Eli decided to get her revenge in a different way.

‘Nico, a word of advice. Whatever you do, do not look at your fingers right now.’

Eli knew the sort of person Nico was. She was the type that if you told her not to do something, she would do the exact opposite out of spite. So Eli was completely unsurprised when Nico rolled her eyes, stretched out the fingers of her left hand and looked at her fingertips.

Eli was also unsurprised when Nico screamed a split-second later.

‘My fingers!’

Sadly for Nico, no-one had told her about the side-effects that happen when you place soft skin against thin strands of metal alloy held under considerable tension. With a glance, Eli saw all the telltale indentations and strands of skin hanging limp, leaving the layer below exposed. She smiled from the nostalgia.

Nico, however, was feeling no such happiness.

‘I’m moulting!’ she bemoaned to the world. ‘I’m shedding my skin like… like an animal that sheds its skin!’

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ Eli chided. ‘And pay more attention in class. For your fingertips, gently tear off the loose strands. It won’t hurt. In time, the skin will harden and callous up the more you play. See?’

Eli held out her left hand. Nico, eyeing her with suspicion, pinched Eli’s fingertips within her own before making a surprised look. ‘You’re right. They feel weird.’

‘Thanks,’ Eli replied in deadpan. ‘Yours will just like them in a few months of practice. You can also forget about growing your nails out – at least on your left hand.’

‘No one told Nico about this!’

‘Now you know. The guitar is not an easy instrument, Nico. If you want to give up because of it, save both of us the time and effort and give up now.’

Eli smiled inwardly. She knew the exact reaction that would get.

‘Nico is not a quitter.’

Nico huffed and pressed the phosphor bronze strings to the fingerboard once more, but came out with a wince. Eli made a sympathetic look.

‘I thought as much. But it’s no good to push yourself. Let’s practice again tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ Nico replied. She shook her hand a few times to try and dispel the prickly feeling from her fingertips.

‘Here’s one final tip for the day,’ Eli said as she set her Bluetooth speaker on the bed and fiddled with her laptop. ‘You should get used to playing along to the record, because that trains your ears. Now, what song do I want to play… I guess we’ll go with this.’

Eli hit play and the chords came out a pained slow and melancholy. Eli matched this with a longing timbre in her voice and guitar as she played along:

Is there anybody going to listen to my story,

All about the girl who came to stay?

She’s the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry

Still you don’t regret a single day,

Oh, girl…

Oh, girl…

The end of the song came around, and Nico felt a new appreciation for the instrument and Eli’s skills. But once again, she couldn’t help but point out: ‘Eli, that sounded great, but it was more like the girl in the song was being emotionally controlling and abusive. It’s, like, the opposite of a love song. Did you seriously play these songs for Nozomi? And she seriously liked them?’

And once again, Eli went red and muttered: ‘Shut up, Nico.’

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ Maki mumbled to herself, fanning herself in the shade of a conveniently placed tree near Eli’s apartment. ‘But I have no idea what they’re up to, and they won’t tell me except they’re hanging out. For two weeks? Without me?’

For Maki, what choice did she have when Nico wasn’t spending time with her anymore? Not to mention being so evasive about what she was doing?

These were the circumstances which led to Maki breaking out the trenchcoat, disposable mask and sunglasses. (Nico would’ve approved.)

Speaking of Nico, she was facing the looming spectre of graduation, with an uncertain future ahead of her. Especially with those grades that she hid from the others. When that time came… then what? What else would keep them together?

‘Nico-chan… What are you doing?’

‘It’s suspicious, isn’t it? Then again, so is your getup.’

Maki jumped with a start before turning around. ‘N-Nozomi?! What are you doing here?’

‘The same thing as you,’ Nozomi answered. ‘Though with less people looking at me and thinking of calling the police.’

Glancing around with slight self-consciousness, Maki asked, ‘It’s not that bad… is it?’

Nozomi grinned. With a sinking feeling, Maki knew that that meant. She decided to change the topic instead.

‘…They’re spending an awful lot of time together.’

‘Right? I hope your Nicocchi isn’t doing anything lewd with my Elicchi. But then again, maybe it’s for the best. We could have a threesome-’

‘Nozomi!’

‘Dear me, where are my manners? I should invite you along as well and we can all join in-‘

‘That’s not the issue here!’ Maki shouted, face even redder.

‘It isn’t?’ Nozomi asked. ‘Then I guess I can have all the fun to myself!’

‘Hey, wait!’ Maki called out to Nozomi, as the latter began walking towards the apartment. ‘You’re just going to barge in on them?’

‘Whatever’s happening, I want in!’ shouted Nozomi, not bothering to turn back.

‘Nozomi!’

Maki made to follow the older girl, then hesitated.

Nozomi’s inappropriate words rang in her ears. Would Maki really want to see… that?

…Or be part of it?

She shuddered and decided in the negative. Instead, she kept watch from the shade of the trees.

Nozomi made her way into the apartment complex, took the lift up a few floors, fished a key from her pocket that Eli didn’t know she had, unlocked the door and tiptoed into the apartment. Her eyes went wide as she heard voices coming from the bedroom.

‘Put your fingers right there, Nico.’

‘Like this?’

‘More like this. Make sure to curve your fingers so they can fit in a tight space.’

‘Got it.’

‘Then, you can slide your fingers up and down, like this…’

‘Is this okay?’

‘Mmm. You’re a quick learner, Nico.’

With a gasp, Nozomi placed a hand over her mouth. She didn’t expect them to be actually going at it! This needed to be stopped! Or at least have her join in!

She burst through the door, then looked between Nico and Eli as they sat on the bed, eyes wide in surprise. Eli’s hands hovered close to Nico’s as she demonstrated how to play a particularly difficult chord.

‘So you’re not having sex,’ Nozomi said, frowning. ‘How disappointing.’

‘Nozomi,’ Eli whined and pouted, turning away from her girlfriend who had sat beside her on the bed. ‘Didn’t you trust me?’

‘Of course I trust you, Elicchi,’ Nozomi cooed, placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder. ‘Nicocchi on the other hand…’

‘I already have a girlfriend, you know,’ Nico scoffed. ‘One that’s way better than Eli.’

‘…Why on Earth am I teaching you, again?’

‘Maybe she just enjoys Elicchi’s interesting choice in songs?’ Nozomi said.

Eli buried her head in her hands as Nico burst into laughter. ‘You too, Nozomi? Why didn’t you say anything before?!’

‘Well, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, y’know? You have such a dumb smile when you stop thinking and just play.’ With a quick lean in, Nozomi planted a kiss on Eli’s cheek. ‘I love it a lot.’

Dazed, Eli rubbed the place her girlfriend had marked with her lips. ‘Nozomi…’

‘Gross,’ said Nico, sticking her tongue out and making a face. ‘But I think I know what you’re talking about.’

Nozomi made a knowing smile. ‘Right? You have your Maki-chan after all.’

‘Since Nozomi is here, how about a special song?’ said Eli, still on a high from Nozomi’s display of affection.

She fished up her guitar and struck one chord three times in quick succession. It was a dramatic sound, but it seemed oddly familiar to Nico. Nico’s suspicions were confirmed when Eli struck the chord thrice more. She rolled her eyes as Nozomi and Eli made a loving look at each other and began to duet.

Yume no meiro…

Yuri no meiro…

Nico threw her arms up in exasperation. ‘Get a room, both of you.’

‘I haven’t had Elicchi all to myself in weeks, so I’m making up for lost time,’ Nozomi said, glomming onto Eli, much to Eli’s enjoyment. ‘Much like how Maki-chan is suspiciously camping outside this apartment block, since she hasn’t had her little Nicocchi in weeks.’

‘Weeks?’ Nico asked. ‘There’s no way… Wait. Maki-chan is where?’

Nozomi pointed and Nico followed with her eyes. She then walked across, opened the apartment door and called out to the streets below.

‘Maki-chan? Are you out there?’

‘Eep!’

Catching the movement in her peripheral vision, Nico saw a figure in the distance begin bolting down the street in the opposite direction. The flash of red hair was even more of a giveaway, if she needed it.

‘Hey!’ shouted Nico. ‘Don’t make me run, I haven’t put my shoes on yet!’

‘Have fun, Nicocchi!’ said Nozomi. ‘And close the door behind you, because Elicchi and I need some private time!’

The thought of what “private time” meant made Nico jump into her sneakers and slam the door even harder than she would’ve otherwise. She raced the elevator down three flights of stairs and won, but still couldn’t make out Maki’s figure despite her desperate efforts. She cursed under her breath and sprinted towards where Maki was headed – the nearby area of Akihabara.

Passing by the small stores which sold idol goods, Nico was in familiar territory. Perhaps too familiar, considering as she was getting distracted by the shiny new merchandise they were selling. That Tsubasa keychain was tempting…

Nico’s thoughts were disrupted by the kind of high-pitched screams that could only belong to pubescent schoolgirls. ‘It’s Nico Yazawa! From μ’s!’

Nico risked a look over her shoulder, then immediately wished that she hadn’t. She could feel the footsteps of a crowd beginning to pursue her and pushed herself even faster.

‘Of all the times to be surrounded by fans. Nico has a private life, you know!’

This! This is exactly why she told everyone else in μ’s to be prepared! But did they listen to her? Of course not!

With her spare hand, she delved into her bag and retrieved her trusty mask and sunglasses before ducking into the back alleys. The fangirls weren’t so easily deterred – but that was as expected of a super idol’s super fans! Nico used all her wiles and tricks: hiding out in a photobooth, blending in with cardboard cutouts, sneaking between narrowly parked vehicles, heading back and checking out the idol merchandise again…

Being a super idol is tough work.

With the burn of a stitch in her side, Nico finally doubled over with her hands on her knees and gasped for air. She had probably run a marathon under the afternoon sun trying to escape all the attention. But she didn’t have the time to be hanging about – she just needed a good five minutes and to wipe down with a towel-

‘Please visit our café, madam!’

Glaring, Nico looked up at the complete airhead who would pass her a flyer at such an inconsiderate moment. She took in the maid outfit, the flowing taupe hair, the big, amber eyes…

‘Kotori?!’

Nico hacked and coughed after shouting – she should have thought that one through. The maid blinked in confusion. ‘Kotori? What? I’m Miss Minalin- oh, it’s Nico-chan! How are you today?’

‘Could… be… better…’ Nico gasped out as Minalinsky/Kotori beamed at her. ‘You still work here?’

‘I’m just helping out today,’ answered the maid, still holding out the pamphlet to Nico. ‘But it’s meant to be quiet. I hope you can keep a secret, Nico-chan!’ Scowling and muttering, Nico accepted the paper and placed it in her pocket, much to Kotori’s delight. Nico’s mood was about to get worse.

Over Kotori’s oblivious shoulder, she saw what looked like the entire population of Tokyo homing in on her location, screaming and pushing past anything in the way. (Except politely, because this is Japan we’re talking about here.)

And then she had an idea.

‘That store is selling discount fabric!’ shouted Nico, pointing over Kotori’s shoulder. She realised too late that shouting was a bad idea, and spluttered into coughing again.

Kotori turned on a dime, ignoring Nico’s plight. ‘Where, where?!’

That was all the chance Nico needed to push Kotori in the small of her back, towards the oncoming mass of people.

There was a shrill cry from the crowd. ‘Ah! It’s Minalinsky!’

‘The legendary maid?! I thought she retired!’

Nico was already pivoting on her heel and breaking away. She had an accurate image of what was happening behind her without seeing it: something like Kotori being surrounded by a human swarm and then disappearing out of sight, akin to a horror movie.

‘N-Nico-chan!’

That’s another thing Kotori should’ve learned. In the world of showbiz, there are always necessary sacrifices.

Koi ni koisuru, shoujo no, shizuka na tameiki wa Lonely... michitarita Lonely...

Eli finished off the duet with some flourishes of her guitar, before graciously bowing to the applause Nozomi made. It was a nice change, going back to playing the songs she had practiced for her girlfriend. ‘How about another song, my sweetheart?’

Nozomi stretched herself out on the bed and grinned. ‘Sure.’

Eli smiled back as she fired out some upbeat chords, singing:

I’ve got something to say that might cause you pain

If I catch you talking to that girl again

I’m gonna let you down

And leave you flat

Because I told you before, oh!

You can’t do that!

It’s the second time I’ve caught you talking to him

Do I have to tell you one more time, I think it’s a sin

I’m gonna let you down

And leave you flat

Because I told you before- Nozomi?

‘Is there something wrong?’ Eli asked in concern. Nozomi was sitting up at this point with a hand on her forehead, as if she had a long-running headache.

‘Elicchi,’ she moaned, ‘way to ruin the mood.’

‘I finally got away,’ wheezed Nico after running a few more blocks. ‘But so did Maki-chan.’

(She failed to mention Kotori, whose fate was sealed.)

Night began to fall across buildings which were unfamiliar even to Nico, a native of the area. Fumbling in her bag, Nico groaned as she failed to locate her phone. She had probably left it back at Eli’s house, which was not useful for several reasons.

Firstly, because she couldn’t contact her siblings to let them know she’d be late. Secondly, and more pressingly, because Nico couldn’t answer a rather important question:

‘…Where the heck am I?’

The ringing of the bell meant the end of another school day. Rin and Hanayo watched with knitted eyebrows as Maki retrieved her belongings, swung her bag over her shoulder and trudged away in silence, shoulders slouched and eyes facing the ground.

Walking past the second-year’s classroom, Maki paid little attention to Umi and Honoka fussing over Kotori, who was slumped over her desk.

‘Kotori?’ Umi asked, feeling Kotori’s temperature with her palm. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Kotori-chan is broken,’ said Honoka, poking at Kotori’s cheek a few times, much to Umi’s dismay. There was no visible reaction from Kotori. ‘She was muttering to herself earlier. Something about how even little birds will grow talons and take their revenge?’

‘How cryptic…’

Maki’s feet had carried her to the music room’s piano without her thinking.

It had been their routine. Had. Why had it stopped? Why was there no more time together in the music room?

She folded her arms and slumped down into the keys. It made an awful, juddering sound and it was against good etiquette, but that was the last thing on her mind right now.

‘Nico-chan…’

She could feel her breathing start to catch in her throat. She loosened the school ribbon around her neck, which made things a bit easier. It wasn’t like Maki was going to cry over something like this, not at all…

Maki paid no attention to the footsteps in the hallway. She did pay attention, however, when the music room door crashed open. She looked up with a start, and found two things which didn’t make any sense to her.

‘Nico-chan? And a guitar? What?’

‘Nico has spent the last few weeks ruining her fingertips to play you this,’ the senior girl shouted, ‘so you’d better be grateful!’

Maki’s eyes were wide as Nico strummed the guitar with purpose, smiled, then began to sing:

Can’t buy me love, love,

Can’t buy me love- whoops!

‘Wrong chord.’ Nico grimaced as a discordant sound rung out. She quickly ran through a few chords before finding the missing piece of the progression. ‘There we go. Okay, let’s pretend that didn’t happen.’

She started again:

Can’t buy me love, love,

Can’t buy me love;

I'll buy you a diamond ring, my friend

If it makes you feel alright

I'll get you anything, my friend

If it makes you feel alright

'Cause I don't care too much for money

Money can't buy me love!

I'll give you all I've got to give

If you say you love me too

I may not have a lot to give

But what I got I'll give to you

I don't care too much for money

Money can't buy me love!

Nico stopped and there was silence. Then awkward silence.

‘How… How was that?’ ventured Nico, feeling the need to say something.

‘That’s what you’ve been doing for the past few weeks?’ asked Maki.

‘Yes?’

Maki crossed her arms and huffed. ‘Well, it could’ve been better.’

‘Oh,’ said Nico. But before her ego could deflate, Maki grinned and stood up from the piano. She made her way over to where Nico was sat, then hugged her close.

‘I missed you,’ Maki whispered. ‘I missed you a lot. But you didn’t seem to miss me, since you were with Eli all the time…’

Returning the embrace, Nico tousled Maki’s mess of hair. ‘Nico missed you a lot, too. Nico wanted to wanted to make our time together even more precious by being able to play with Maki-chan. So I got some lessons from Eli.’

‘Nico-chan…’ Maki sniffled and rubbed at her nose. ‘I’ll forgive you this once. So let’s practice together from now on, okay?’

‘Then why don’t we start now?’ said Nico. Maki watched as her partner delved into her bag and handed her a songbook: The Beatles Collection. ‘I got us some sheet music to play along to! Well, I can play the chords. Most of them. If they’re not too complicated… Do you think you can play this one?’

Maki glanced at the open pages and grinned, firing out the opening chords. ‘I think I can manage.’

Smiling, Nico placed her fingers on the strings and gripped her plectrum. ‘This song’s for you, Papa,’ she whispered to herself.

The music washed over them both as they sang in duet. It was an uptempo, silly little love song, like many others they would play from the book.

Baby's good to me, you know She's happy as can be, you know She said so! I'm in love with her and I feel fine!

‘Stupid, ungrateful Nico,’ Eli grumbled to herself in her bedroom, guitar slung over her legs. She plucked through the strings and tuned them accordingly. ‘Always with her nit-picking. And Nozomi, too! It’s the Beatles we’re talking about here! All happy, poppy love songs! How can they be inappropriate?’

Balancing the guitar with one arm over the guitar’s body as she leaned forwards, Eli used her other to flick through her song book at random. She stopped at one she couldn’t recall playing before. It looked simple enough – just five easy chords.

‘Run for your Life,’ Eli mused to herself. ‘Sounds interesting!’

She placed her hands in position to start the song, then sung out with her guitar in gleeful accompaniment:

Well, I’d rather see you dead little girl

Than to be with another man

You’d better keep your head, little girl

Or you won’t know where I am;

You’d better run for your life if you can, little girl

Hide your head in the sand, little girl

Catch you with another man, that’s the end-

Eli’s palm smacked into her forehead.

‘Damn it, not again!’

[be17forever]

My Honest Review of “An Ode”

Let me preface this by saying, I am absolutely a Carat, I’ve been a Carat since Mansae era, and I will continue to be a Carat. That said, there were a lot of things in this newest album “An Ode” that made me really think. I wanted to review and process my thoughts on the album honestly, as a fan, as a music lover, as a listener. 

1. Hit: I don’t really think I need to delve into it because a lot of my initial reactions have been blunted since I’ve been repeating it pretty non-stop for a month now. Key point: I really didn’t appreciate the song much on first listen and not even with the whole performance. I mean, the performance is definitely impressive, but it didn’t really jive with the music or wow me in a way that “Getting Closer” did. However, I blasted it on speakers, realized that’s what the song was really suited for, and really came to appreciate it a lot more. 

2. Lie Again: Hands down my favorite song on the album. It obviously cannot be a choice for title song, but the quality is really close to what I expect from a title song. Great choice for instrumentals, great catchy chorus despite it being a mellow slower song, good build up through the verses. Vernon’s part references DWC, and this self-referencing is what I love about Seventeen. It is the best part of being a long-term serious fan of their music, though I know it can be divisive because it alienates new listeners (though DWC was fairly popular, so maybe not?) This song is the follow-up song that DWC deserved instead of “Without You” (possibly my least favorite sub-song from Seventeen, ever, and definitely my least favorite on Teen, Age). The bit after the bridge is a bit of a weak point, but not super jarring to the whole song. Great mixing. I don’t look at line distribution for each song because I don’t think a measure of “how much” part a member got in a 13-member group really means anything, but nothing stood out as a particular problem. Overall, a very well-rounded and well-executed song. There’s really not much to say because I think the song speaks well for itself.

3. Fear: I hate saying negative things about it because it is the title track and I have been so looking forward to it, but there were some points that made it just lackluster. Some errors were glaring, to a point that I don’t think I’ve ever felt about their songs, not even in the early days.

First, some positives. I think “Fear” did really well in terms of synthesizing the R&B base with slightly Arabian/Eastern/Medieval thematic bits with EDM, hip-hop, and their usual rock elements. It sounds like something I might have heard on the radio in mid-2000′s but with contemporary elements that remind me we’re in 2019 already. This entire album is fairly consistent in keeping to the R&B genre, which is honestly a hard move for them because Seventeen has been more rock or punk-rock based for so many of their albums in the past. “Fear” has also managed to keep the HHU from pitching their lines too low. The HHU, including Wonwoo, are not naturally low deep gravelly when they rap. They can pull off that kind of sound in studio, but it’s really difficult to do when they perform live. That’s why you’ll hear them often just doing their lines in a completely different tone than the recorded line. I hope they continue this decision into future songs because it makes it less jarring to hear the rap lines during live performances. Seungkwan’s voice shines like no other in this song. The song really plays to the best qualities of his vocal style. I know lately, there have been accusations of under-utilizing the main vocalists, but no one can say that with this song because it is clear that Seungkwan was very well incorporated into the song. Jeonghan also really fit well into the style of the song. His vocals really stand out, which is a huge achievement for someone who was not utilized much at Seventeen’s debut. 

That said, there are just a lot of things that felt sloppy to me about this song. Now, I cannot tell if these are mistakes or deliberate stylistic choices. However, some of these points are not just my personal opinions, they kinda go against the rules in a meaningless way. The mixing is really clumsy with the song. The beginning line from Wonwoo sounds a lot like how Mingyu started “Getting Closer”. But the glaring difference is that there is no musical anticipation into the part, nor is there a momentum out of that part before the first drop into the verses. There are so many quick fixes they could have done to the little instrumental that comes after his part to offset this, but because of the lull, the song immediately loses impact. I’m not sure what kind of effect they were going with doubling Joshua’s part. It sounds unnecessary, but I do like that they started absolutely bare with just the voice for the verse. It creates at least a little bit of tension into the rest of the first verse, which builds up by ping-ponging between more vocally artistic lines and rhythmic rap. Everything gets wrapped up by Seungkwan’s “Someone tell me, what should I do?” And then.

Nothing.

They recover the momentum that was lost through the whole verse, and then there’s just no impact into the chorus. It’s a real shame because I think “The way I love” bit is fairly catchy, so if they had a strong start to the chorus, the whole thing could have been really catchy. Also, the chorus is just a bit too short for “The way I love” to shine. Mentally, I wanted to hear another repeat of the chorus. Now, I’ve made my peace a long time ago with the fact that Seventeen just isn’t really going to chase after trends for their title songs. They’re not going to force themselves into a catchy hook just so the song can be catchy. But “The way I love, the way I love”-- that line is just so naturally perfect as a catchy tune, so it’s a little disconcerting that this wasn’t taken an advantage of. 

I really like the idea of taking away the instrumentals and having Jeonghan just stand alone with that whispery, haunting voice to give a fresh-start feeling for the second verse and keep it from being stale. However, I do believe there was a legitimate mixing error for this part. You can barely hear his part during this section if you keep a constant healthy non-eardrum-perforating volume on the song. If it is that hard to hear his part, casual listeners won’t even pay attention to it. And the whole cessation of the instrument and how wistful Jeonghan’s voice is should have made this part the absolute high point of the song. You do not have to lower the volume so low on the vocal track to keep the atmosphere because you literally just cut away the backing instrumental and his tone is enough to give that feeling. I just have a difficult time getting past this as just a stylistic choice. The second verse is also quite boring compared to the first aside from Jeonghan’s part. Coups’s verse tries to give a little change on the rhythm, but it just doesn’t really work for me, personally. Then we move into the chorus, but it’s better this time because of the little “Oh, oh, oh” break and “The way I love” repeating.

I really feel quite neutral about the bridge. It doesn’t really stand out until it launches into “This is love”. And then there’s just a lot of overlapping elements. I’m not sure if they felt pressured into trying to use all of the members, or as many as they can, for this last bit, but there’s just a lot going on in not a particularly cohesive way. The two vocalists belting, for example, is quite impressive but feels like an afterthought. 

The reason why this song fell a little short for me were primarily the editing choices that made me keep guessing if a certain effect was there intentionally or if it was a mistake. If it was an error, that is something that should not have gone uncaught on the first full albums in 1.5 years; if it was intentional, it was poorly executed. The lyrics-- I’m going to be completely honest. I’m fairly fluent in Korean, and the lyrics are really confusing. I’m not sure what kind of message they’re trying to send-- don’t love me, I’m poison, love me, my mind is corrupted, I’m afraid... If Woozi one day said that this was a song representing a conversation between two people or like a case of DID and two personas within a person warring, that would be a plausible explanation of what’s going on in the lyrics. And Seventeen lyrics are usually not like this at all. Seventeen songs have fairly elegant and figurative lines, cohesive story that makes sense, etc.. It’s part of why the song sounds good as segments (aka the teaser bits) but doesn’t really work together when it all comes together. 

I do still really like the overall genre of the song. They were really true to incorporating all the elements they said they would use. The HHU, I felt, was more well-incorporated than they have been for the last few comebacks. Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s voices pop out like no other. And it’s really, really difficult to make a dance song that is in a minor key and using scales/progressions that are not part of the more typical, Western music and have it sound natural but sophisticated. I imagine it may even grow on me after a while. But there were just some choices that felt a little bit flat and unpolished compared to what I had anticipated from the teasers. 

4. Let Me Hear You Say: I felt very meh about this song. It’s a cutesy song, and it serves its purpose. Nothing really stands out good or bad about the song. It reminds me a little bit of “Without You”. Let Seventeen have one cutesy almost-vapid song on their album, ok?

5. 247: Definitely not my style, but it blends well with the R&B theme of the whole album. It has all of the elements of those sticky R&B bedroom anthems reminiscent of male solo artists like Taeyang, Rain, or (for those closer to my age) Brian McNight. But minus the stickiness. I do wish that they incorporated a little bit of team element to it-- this whole song could have been sung by a single male artist and I would not have felt weird about it. A group should be accomplishing something different than what a solo artist brings to the table. This is my least favorite performance unit song from Seventeen, but that is not saying much because all performance unit songs are, in my definition, glorious hits, home runs, true bangers. This one just fell a little short of legendary.

6. Second Life: I hear the “hip-hop” elements... ok, Woozi, ok. I appreciate that Seventeen’s vocal unit feels more adventurous than sticking to ballads. This is also a quite meh song for me. The weird stop in the bridge is a bit jarring... to be honest, I don’t think anyone on the vocal unit could have pulled off the effect they were trying to go for, though. I think the lyric content is really warm and appealing to a slightly older audience. 

7. Network Love: I love this song, and not just because I’m a filthy American 외퀴. I love the theme of it. I love the playfulness they have with the lyrics (“I 좋아 = 아이 좋아”). That is also another divisive element about Seventeen’s music that I love but sometimes alienates the public. The whole build up and drop into the chorus is just masterful. The lyrics are witty. If this was a group song, it could have been a decent contender for title song. The theme is very relevant and authentic. Honestly, if Lie Again was a little less perfect, this would be my favorite off the album. 

8. Back It Up: We’re starved for a good HHU song, ok? What a great addition to the HHU’s discography AND this album simultaneously. I mean, my favorite is and will always be “Un Haeng Ill Chi” and “Check In” is also just so well-polished, but “Back It Up” is a great change of pace. I like that they just went ham on the lyrics, on the song, on the mixing. It shows the versatility of the song’s creators. The only sad thing is that the lyrics are so confident and ambitious about achieving more as a group, but in real life, this kind of drive and ambition is only expressed in the 3-ish minutes they have on stage and not reflected in the aggression of their activities and artistic direction. 

9. Lucky: I wonder if Woozi is secretly on a mission to receive credit for the best use of pan flutes and bossa nova elements in a kpop song. He’s managed it once with “Fast Pace” and now he’s done it again with “Lucky”. It’s a very light song. There are a lot of things in this song that can be difficult to pull off because they’re not conventional, but it really works on the macro level. A stark contrast to how “Fear” fails to make unconventional choices sound intentional and cool. I love that the lyrics tell us to “slow down” and the whole song has that on-your-toes kind of fluttery rhythm. Light, bouncy, solid group b-side.

10. Snap Shoot: This must have been a strong contender as a title song. I’m almost mad that it’s not (even though it is completely contrary to the whole dark Seventeen/growth theme they’re trying to turn over in 2019). The choir starting the song off is perfectly whimsical. It really took advantage of many of the members. For example, Joshua and Woozi sing comparable parts in verses 1 and 2. But they sing it with their own flow and style, it almost feels like a completely different melodic line. And it works well for both of them. The chorus is super catchy. The concept of the song is really true to the times. It can really work as a summer or a winter song. Very universal, very likable. There’s absolutely no rule that Seventeen “must” do a bright, poppy song. I think that frame is something we have to keep resisting against, especially for older fans who’ve seen the peak of the carefree boyish days. But if we look at the songs that they’re really known to the public for, such as Aju Nice, Pretty U, and Mansae, they certainly have that brightness as a known group characteristic, and they’ve nailed getting a cohesive and inclusive group sound down to a science since those early days. So it naturally follows that Snap Shoot sounds almost effortlessly perfect. 

11. Happy Ending (Korean ver.): I know people really want Korean versions of the Japanese releases because the Japanese singles/titles are great, and they show off new elements of Seventeen. But I am of the camp that if a song has lyrics in it, the melodic line must accompany the natural rhythm and flow of the lyrics, not the other way around (reinforced by my one-time brief conversation with Sondheim). Have you ever seen the “Kevin may not be smart, but he’s strong” meme? That’s what the song feels like to me. And this will happen for any song you try to translate into another language. It’s so, so, so difficult to keep the fluency of the words while retaining most of the original melody. Not saying it’s impossible, but this particular version did not excel in this regard and the new version only made me want to sing “Kikasete, kikasete” every time because the original was just so catchy. 

Final thoughts: This will not be a make-or-break album for me. I still hear a lot of the Seventeen I fell in love with or grew to appreciate. Some of the b-sides from this album, like Lie Again and Network Love, were truly great songs. But this made the less stellar songs stick out even more in contrast. I did like that they’re venturing into the “dark Seventeen” territory more because as much as old fans love it and still miss it, the teenagers are no longer teenagers and Seventeen does not have to box themselves into one image. I really appreciate that they changed up the basis of their sound to the more R&B territory, undoubtably guided by Bumzu, who has quite a history in that area. And they really stuck to it through the album. Though not as cohesive as YMMDay had been, the album does play like the songs, for the most part, belong together. That is kind of a lost art in the kpop world nowadays. CD’s are for pretty packaging, the tracklist shows off the width of the group at best, and no one seems to care for how the songs work together in order. When you listen to “An Ode”, it sounds like an entire album. Seventeen is a group in kpop that is quite counter-cultural in this way. I also really appreciate the effort that went into the music video production. I’m not sure if it was intentional, but it was a lot of things that the fans had been asking for a long, long time. The visual for the music video for “Fear” is definitely striking and appealing. That’s a big part of the music in kpop, so it would be irresponsible not to mention how well the MV works with the music. 

That said, there are few disappointments and choices that seemed questionable, especially when it comes to title track “Fear”, which should be their best song from the first full length album they’re dropping in over 1.5 years. As a Carat, I cannot be afraid to speak about things that are not working for me in this album. First off, I don’t have this delusion of grandeur that because I had some suggestions about improvements to this album, Seventeen members will take my specific words to heart and be so hurt and broken over it. If they don’t get the kind of reception they were hoping for, it can be saddening. But they still have literally thousands of Carats-- including myself-- supporting their future endeavors. Second, just because the members worked on the album themselves does not mean there’s no room for constructive criticism and feedback from the fans, industry professionals, and even the general listener. I appreciate all the hard work and sleepless nights they put into the album and simultaneously have things that I wish were thought through more carefully. As a fandom, we can’t label everyone who points out a few flaws as a complete heretic. That’s how we only grow insular and never end up reaching full potential. When there is no room for criticism, no more feedback and no desire for changes from fans, that’s when a group hits stasis. And as my old chemistry teacher (perhaps erroneously) liked to say: absolute equilibrium in a living thing means death.  

[romanticatheart-posts]

King Sized Revelations - Part 6

In this chapter: It’s the conclusion of the summit and while Liam is there finishing up the last few details, Catherine spends time with her long lost grandfather where he confronts her about a secret she’s been keeping. She meets Liam for an afternoon of adventure and then later, she finds the perfect way to teach him a lesson... one he’ll never forget.

Master List

Pairings: Liam and MC (Catherine) NSFW

Pixelberry owns all characters except the ones I have created for this story.

Tags: @umccall71 @3pawandme @indiacater @katurrade @lodberg @heatherfilliez @eadanga @missevabean @furiousherringoperatortoad @flowerpowell @cheeseedreams47 @tornbetween2loves @smalltalk88  @hopefulmoonobject @stopforamoment

You stand in front of Ely not quite prepared to answer his question… there are so many things to consider. You wanted to get Liam’s input before divulging this information to Ely, but fate had a different plan. Ely awaits your answer… not sure if you heard him the first time, he asks again… 

“Catherine? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Oh… I guess I should have mentioned it...” “So, it is true? Liam is king of some European country and… well, that makes you the queen, right? I’m still trying to figure out why you didn’t mention it last night...”

You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath then your eyes meet Ely’s. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just... when people realize who we are, it tends to be the main focus of conversation, and I didn’t want that… I mean, we just found each other, and I have so many questions. I just wanted to keep things simple… at least for a while.” “Not that it matters either way, because it doesn’t change the fact that you are my granddaughter... but it certainly explains your peculiar ‘assistant’...” 

Ely does the air quotes on the last word and you grin sheepishly. 

“I wondered why you didn’t object when she started snooping around… I would have told you everything eventually… but it just seemed easier...” “I’m not judging and I’m sure you had your reasons but imagine my surprise and relief. After all these years of worrying and praying that you were happy and healthy...” 

Ely laughs. 

“What’s so funny?” “I just thought about how I damn near pitched a whole pot of coffee when I heard Liam’s name mentioned… it was almost a disaster...” “Oh no...” “I said almost... I only lost a few drops… You know, I sensed something different about Liam, but I never imagined this. You two are not at all the way I would have pictured royalty. I guess things have changed over the years… in the old days, you’d never see a king and queen out and about, unless it was some grand event with mounds of people surrounding them… but not in a bar with common folk…” “Well, we aren’t your average royal couple… how can we effectively rule a kingdom if we stay closed up from its people? I’m glad things have changed, it makes what we do so much easier and not to mention more effective and just as rewarding. And besides, Liam and I are people too, so shouldn’t we be able to enjoy what life has to offer as well?” “You have a point… Seems like you two have it all figured out.”  “Liam is a wonderful king who cares about his people, and that makes him the most regarded of all Monarchs. I am proud to be his queen and most of all, his wife. For every challenge we face, the opportunity for us to grow as a nation and as a couple is multiplied. I couldn’t ask for a better life than the one Liam has given me.” “Queen Catherine. I’m not sure I can get used to that.” “I’m still just Catherine but… I do take my role seriously though. There’s more to it than just prestige or glory… it’s a responsibility, a duty to serve the needs of others.” “Oh, I’m sure. Making decisions for a whole country… well, it’s not a concept that most of us could even grasp… but I’m sure there are perks too.” “That’s true. We have a lot of support in our efforts, but that doesn’t mean we overindulge or take advantage. Liam and I try very hard to remain grounded because we are passionate about keeping true not only to our people but to ourselves.” “Your modest upbringing doesn’t seem to have influenced the way you look at the world and for that I’m thankful.  “Well, since I was a little girl, I’ve always wanted to make a difference in the world and bring a little happiness to it.” “Catherine, you are so much like your mother… I don’t doubt that you will.” 

You smile at Ely and he gives you a wistful look. 

“Elizabeth would have been proud of you… I’m just sorry she’ll never get the opportunity to see it for herself…” “I know... from what you’ve said, she was pretty special… I just hope I get to learn more about her and my father…” “I look forward to sharing those memories with you Catherine... and making new ones too.”  

For a moment you both reflect on the circumstances and then smile at each other. 

“Well, now that you know who I am, how are you going to handle the publicity when word gets out? The press can be… relentless.” “Oh, don’t worry about that. I was head of public relations at my old job… And if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to handle the press, but… would it be alright if I told a few of my friends before the media runs with it? It might just solve a little problem…” “What kind of problem?” “Well… there’s this buddy of mine, Sam Keller. He’s a good fella but he never stops talking about his sister’s kid. He’s some hot shot lawyer in the states who get a lot of attention from all these high-profile cases. I gotta say it’s pretty impressive, but also annoying at the same time… And well, this might just shut him up for a while…”

Ely grins contentedly as he considers his own words. 

“Won’t they think you’re annoying too?” “I doubt it, but I don’t care anyway. Maybe I just want to brag a little too… I mean, I’m proud to have found you but to be able to say my granddaughter is royalty... that’s just icing on the cake.” “Well… don’t play me up too much... I’d hate for them to be disappointed when they meet me…” 

There is a knock on the door and Ely finds Mara waiting on the other side. Once you and Ely have said your goodbye’s you head to the hotel where the limo is waiting and then the venue to meet Liam. Upon arrival, you see groups of people filing out of the old historical building… Liam is one of the last ones to exit followed by the few guards that stayed behind. Mara opens the door for him and he scoots in placing his briefcase on one of the empty seats and with a smile, he wraps an arm around you, kissing you. 

“Have you been waiting long my love?” “We just got here. So how was it?” “As expected but… why don’t we focus more on our afternoon together?” “Okay. What did you have in mind?” “Well first, I’d like to change into something a bit less conspicuous…” “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” “No, I had something else planned… Mara what’s the status on the… arrangements?” “The conditions are ideal, Your Majesty. It’s all set.” “Perfect.” 

Liam turns to you with a smile. 

“So, what conditions are we talking about?” “It’s a surprise, but we’ll both need warmer clothing… and for safety purposes, something non-flammable.” “Oh my God! What are you getting us into?” 

Liam laughs. 

“It’s an adventure. But one I’m sure we’ll never forget.” “Should I be worried…” 

Liam wraps his arm around you holding you close. 

“You’ll just have to trust me, my queen.” 

You pull up to a small clothing shop that has been closed specifically for your arrival. After going inside, you each find something warm to wear and once dressed, Liam pays the shopkeeper and thank’s him, apologizes for any inconvenience and then you head out. 

“I’m all for an adventure Liam, but I’d really like to know where we are going… if you’re finished messing with me.” “Alright my love. I suppose I can fill you in now.” 

He gazes at you happily. 

“We are going on a private Hot Air Balloon ride over central Switzerland with our own personal tour guide!” “Seriously? I’ve never been in a Hot Air Balloon before! This sounds like fun.” “I was hoping you’d be as excited about it as I am. I wanted us to experience it for the first time together.” “So when did this idea strike you?” “This morning while... ahem, taking my shower. I asked Mara to take care of the details.” “So, you thought about taking me… uh, us to new heights?” 

Liam smiles playfully at you. 

“You could say that…” 

After a short ride, you arrive at the destination and there are several balloons inflated and ready to ascend. You are met by a tour guide and given instructions for what to expect during the flight as well as the ascent and eventual landing. Once fitted with a safety helmet, you climb the stairs and into the capsule with Liam close behind. 

“I can’t wait to get an aerial view of Switzerland.” “Me too. The mountains, the lakes… it will almost be as beautiful as you.” 

You wrap your arms around Liam, leaning into him and he places his arm around your waist as you await the pilot to start the ascent. Liam watches the crew prepare the craft, taking mental notes on every detail as if he is going to be tested later. You smile, knowing he’s enjoying this part as much as he will the journey ahead. After smoothly ascending high in the air, you and Liam stand arm in arm watching as the majestic scenery unfolds before you. 

“Wow! This is amazing…” “It certainly is…” 

For most of the trip, you spend in silent awe of the three hundred and sixty degrees of spectacular, with an occasional burst from the burner and a few clicks from the camera on your phone. The tour guide only speaking when a landmark comes into view, giving the history of each. You and Liam share periodic smiles and after a few hours of floating peacefully above the landscape, it’s time for the descent. As the pilot allows the balloon to fall slowly into an open field, you catch one last magical view of the sun setting over the horizon. You take another picture. As the last ray of light fades behind the mountains, you and Liam take that moment to savor a kiss.

“You are so beautiful, Catherine...” “Liam...” 

The ground crew is already waiting when the capsule touches down and before the balloon begins to fall, you and Liam are quickly escorted out and led to the back of a truck where a small table with snacks and champagne have been set up. As part of the tour package, you get to watch as the crew opens the balloon’s envelope, allowing it to deflate gracefully before you. 

“That was incredible.” “It’s so peaceful up there… And you were right, I’ll never forget it.” “I’m just glad I could see it with you…” “Me too.” 

You clink your glasses together and then take a sip. When you’ve had your fill of wine and snacks, you lean back against Liam as you watch the crew carefully roll the balloon into a ‘package’ and then place it in the back of another truck. Soon after, you are whisked back to the starting point where Mara and the other guards await to depart.

“It’s still early, is there anything special you’d like to do tonight?” “To be honest Liam, I wouldn’t mind just spending some quiet time with you, if that’s okay. Maybe we could call room service and watch a movie.” “Alright my love. There are a few things I need to add to my report after the conclusion of the summit today... but after that, I’m all yours.” 

After arriving at the hotel and riding the elevator up to your suite, Liam goes straight to the desk and opens the laptop. You place your purse down and walk over to him. 

“Before we get settled in for the night, I’m going to take a bath.” 

You lean down, kissing Liam on the cheek. He smiles as you trot off to the bathroom. Once finished, you put on your pajama’s and head into the sitting room where Liam still sits at the desk plugging away on his computer.  

“Do you want me to call room service?” 

Without looking up he responds. 

“That would be appreciated. I’m almost finished.” “Okay. Any special requests?” “No, you decide. I trust it will be delicious.” 

You retrieve the room service menu and find your selection, then call to place the order. 

 “They said it would be at least thirty minutes.” 

Liam pointedly hits the last few keystrokes and watches as you sit on the couch across the room. He smiles and walks over to sit beside you where he wraps an arm around your shoulder, then places a tender kiss on your lips. 

“That will give me just enough time to kiss my lovely wife and then take a quick shower.” 

He leans down laying a trail of kisses on your neck and you let out a gentle moan. 

“Liam…” “Mmmm… you smell good.” “I did just take a bath...” 

His lips find yours and the kiss is passionate. He melts into the embrace and for several minutes your mouths never part, but when they do, you are both breathless. 

“I may have to make that a cold shower…” 

Before you can respond, he kisses you again… pulling you onto his lap, his hand caressing the curve of your breast as you moan in pleasure. 

“Oh, Liam…” 

His kisses trail down your neck and your head falls back, immersed in his touch… his warm breath on your skin sending chills up and down your spine. Suddenly he stops… 

“Liam… don’t stop…” “I’m sorry love. It’s not as though I want to, but with room service on the way…” “You shouldn’t get me going like that if you’re not going to finish…” “Just consider it a prelude for later…” 

You give him a pouty look, trying to hide a smile. 

“You shouldn’t tease me like that.” “I’m sorry love, that was not my intention. It’s just so hard to resist you sometimes...” “Apparently it’s not too difficult...”

Liam reluctantly lifts you from his lap, sliding you back on the sofa. He leans down and kisses you tenderly. 

“I’ll make it up to you my queen. I promise.” 

After his shower, Liam comes out wearing only lounge pants and sits on the sofa next to you. Room service has been delivered and you have already placed everything on the table in front of the sofa as he reaches for it eagerly. 

“Thank you, love. This looks delicious.” “You’re welcome…” 

You locate the remote and turn on the television. After a few clicks of the channel button, you find a movie, then sit back enjoying the light meal. 

“What movie is this?” “I’m pretty sure it’s called ‘Born of Distinction’.” “Oh, have you seen it before?” “Yeah once, back in New York.” “Did you like it?” “Yeah, it has a great storyline. I don’t remember too much about it... Do you want to watch something else?” “Not necessarily… do you?” 

You know Liam so well. His ideal ‘movie’ is more of a documentary or history type film and this one is probably not his cup of tea. You gingerly hand him the remote.

“Here, if you don’t like this one then switch it to something you like. I don’t really have a preference.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah, I’m sure.” “Well, I can at least see what it’s about since you liked it so well.”

Liam takes the remote and places it on the arm of the couch without switching the channel. By the time you have both finish the meal, Liam is completely absorbed in the movie now and doesn’t even notice that you have removed all evidence of the existence of food. You return to the sofa and lay down, with your head in his lap. He takes your hand and without even a blink of his eyes, he brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. His gaze never leaves the television screen. 

You smile inside, as a playfully devious plan unfolds in your mind… 

You sit up from his lap, dramatically pulling the front of your shirt back and forth as though you’re suddenly overcome by heat. Liam doesn’t notice… at least not yet. 

“Is it a little warm in here to you?” “I… I hadn’t noticed. Maybe it was something you ate.” 

He doesn’t even glance in your direction... his eyes fixed on the movie. You rise from the sofa and head to the kitchen retrieving a bottle of ice cold water from the fridge. When you come back you plop onto the couch, causing Liam to turn in your direction. 

“Catherine, are you alright?” “Yeah, I’m just… so hot all of a sudden… Whew… I’ll be alright though. Let’s just watch the movie…” 

He nods an okay and then turns back to the television. You sigh loudly and take a sip of water… it drizzles down your chin, your neck and then finally soaks into your shirt. 

“Oooh…” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Liam’s attention goes from the screen back to you a couple of times and finally settles on the movie. 

“(Just a little more…)” 

You lay back into the opposite corner of the sofa, propping yourself up on a pillow. You position your legs to emphasize your curves, and with your eyes closed you take another sip of the cold water, letting more of it trickle down your chest. You rub over your shirt seductively as the water absorbs into the fabric, becoming translucent and clinging to your breasts… a slight moan escapes your lips… 

“Wow…” “Catherine?” 

You look over at Liam and he swallows hard as his gaze sweeps from your face to your wet shirt. His face is flushed, and his lounge pants reveal a growing desire. The movie is all but forgotten. 

“(Yes! Time to ramp it up!)” 

He continues to watch biting his lower lip, as you remove your shirt and then stand up and shimmy slowly out of your pants. You lay back on the cushions with nothing on but your underwear and focus your attention to the television. Liam slides closer, laying down beside you and pulls you against him. When you look in his eyes, there is a hunger like you’ve never seen before. He kisses you hard and his hand expeditiously move from your waist and then upward, grasping the curve of your breast, moaning slightly. After a few moments, and with great effort, you suddenly pull back… looking into his pleading eyes. 

“I want you, Catherine… Oh God, how I want you…” “I can’t... what about the movie...?” “But… you can’t expect me to...” 

His smile fades as an obvious look of defeat takes its place. That is all the punishment you can deliver… He starts to move away but you pull him back, tracing a finger down his chest slowly... your eyes meet and in a low sultry voice, you begin to speak... 

“I’ll make it up to you my king… I promise…” 

His eyes brighten and then he smiles knowingly. 

“You did all that on purpose, didn’t you?” “Maybe...” “I suppose I did deserve it, but that performance, wow! All I can say is, damn you’re good!” “And... what about this?” 

You reach around his neck and pull him into a passionate kiss, wrapping your arms and legs around him. After a few moments, he breaks the kiss, smiling. 

“That’s good too… but do you know what would be even better?” “Yeah, I do...”

Without another word, he stands up, lifting you off the sofa and into his arms as he carries you to the bedroom, placing you on the bed. He slowly pulls off your underwear, then removes his pants as he climbs in stopping at your waist, his eyes sweeping your body and then his gaze meets yours. 

“You weren’t wrong...” “About what…?” “You are hot…” “And what are going to do about that?”

By way of an answer, he bends down dropping kisses on your stomach and then works his way down… he slowly parts your legs as he sinks his head inward. His mouth grazing your skin gently and his tongue probing… he takes his time, giving you a pleasure like you’ve never known… your body shivering at his every touch… before long, waves of pleasure begin to flow… 

“Oh, Liam…” 

You feel him smile against your skin as he slides up, kissing every inch of you until he reaches your lips. You pull him close and eagerly take him inside you. His hips moving slowly against yours… your bodies rise and fall together in unison as an energy increases within you. 

Soon a euphoric state of consciousness washes over as you each surrender, one to the other… 

“I love you…” “I love… you…!” 

You lay entwined in each other’s arms until you both catch your breath and the trembling subsides.

“Catherine, that was incredible…” “Yeah, it was...”

He rubs your arm and sighs contentedly.

“I forgot to mention it, but I went to see Ely this morning.” “Oh yes. Tell me, how was your time together?” “It was great, but he found out about us.” “What do you mean?” “He knows we’re royalty…” 

Liam grins and takes your hand, placing it gently on his lips.  

“It’s not a secret my love…” “I know that, but I didn’t want him to know just yet.” “Why is that?” “I guess I just thought it would complicate things and he would think he had to act differently... And I’m just getting to know him so I thought if he knew, it would change the way he treated us.” “Did he treat you differently?”

“Not at all... I suppose I worried for nothing.” “I understand your reasons, but he was going to learn the truth eventually.” “I know, but things were going so great…and then he showed me old pictures of family... my family… Do you know how exciting it was for me to finally get some closure?” “I can only imagine... I know how important this is to you, Catherine… and I’m happy you two could spend the morning together. ” “It meant a lot to me…” 

Liam kisses your cheek. 

“Of course it did love… I can’t even fathom what you’ve been through.” “I asked him about us three spending the day together tomorrow and he said it was a great idea. He wants to have as much time with us as he can before we have to go back home.” “I’m sure you two have a lot more to talk about, and I’m happy to tag along. Any ideas for this outing?” “No, but it should be somewhere relaxed... you know, so we can all talk.” “Since he’s lived here for a while, maybe he has some ideas.” “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give him a call first thing tomorrow.” “Sounds good, my love.” 

You yawn. 

“Well, it’s obvious that my queen needs her rest... so let’s clean up and then get some sleep, shall we?” “Yeah, I’m kind of tired, but I really enjoyed going up in the balloon with you today. It was perfect.” “Every moment with you always is...” 

He smiles, kissing you sweetly on the lips and then gets out of bed, extending his hand to you. You take it and he leads you into the bathroom. After returning to bed, you curl up next to him where he pulls the covers around both of you and kisses you tenderly. 

“Good night my queen.” “Good night my king.” 

Soon, you are both fast asleep.

As morning breaks and the sun, beams through the curtains of the window, you yawn and stretch reaching for Liam, but his side of the bed is empty. After a few moments, you sit up rubbing your eyes and blink a few times trying to focus on the surroundings. Across the room you see him, sitting in a chair slightly bent forward with his head in his hands. When he hears you stirring, he looks up and you see a troubled expression on his face.

“Liam…?” 

You rush out of bed and go straight to him. You place your hand on his shoulders and then kneel in front of him as he pulls you into a tight embrace. 

“Liam, what’s wrong?” “I’m not… I don’t even know how to say it…” “Okay, now you’ve got me worried… Is this about your father?” 

He looks down at your hands and then back to your eyes. Searching for the right words, he swallows hard and then sighs. 

“No, no... it’s not that... it’s Ely…”

In the next chapter:  Liam’s past is brought to light, but he isn’t handling it very well. Can Catherine give him the support he needs to overcome his inner demons?

And will she finally get to finish reading the letter from Liam’s belated mother, which is still tucked into her desk drawer back at the palace?

Stay tuned!