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tiramisiyu · 4 years

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【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【倾落心扉】 Xia Yan | Falling into the Heart Date Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist

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Another date from early on in the timeline (seems like it happens right after MC and Xia Yan’s reunion in Chapter 1).

All Xia Yan dates have now been translated!

PART 1

Home

Recently, it’s been raining nonstop for the past few days. It finally cleared up when weekend arrived.

I pulled open the curtains. Just when I was pondering about where to go walk around, my phone on the table vibrated. It was Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: MC, do you have time today?

MC: Mhmm, what’s up? Got something that you need my help for?

Xia Yan: You can count it as help. I just received a very interesting multinational commission and wanted to find you to go together.

MC: Multinational…?

Xia Yan: Yeah, the client settled outside the country a long time ago and requested that I get something from his old house. It’s rare for the weather to be this good, so how about it – are you coming?

MC: (Looks like you calling me out to help is just an act, and you actually just want to relieve boredom…)

MC: Okay, where are we meeting?

Xia Yan: Heh heh, I’m just downstairs at your place. Hurry!

MC: Downstairs?!

As soon as I got downstairs, I saw a taxi stopped at the roadside. Xia Yan stuck out his head from the taxi window, smiling as he waved at me. Seeing him look full of vivacity, I also couldn’t resist waving at him and rushing over.

Taxi

As soon as I got on the car, I heard Xia Yan urge the taxi driver to immediately set out.

MC: You’re in this much of a rush? Where are we going?

Xia Yan: We’re going to a suburban villa area. The thing we need to get is placed in an old house there.

MC: For a matter as simple as “helping get and deliver”, does it really need one to specifically seek a detective?

Xia Yan: I often receive commissions about extraction of material evidence. It’s just that this time is somewhat special. My client is old and needs to take care of her severely ill husband and can’t personally return right now. She only found me after inquiring in many places.

MC: She specifically sought you?

Xia Yan: Naturally. I’m different from other detectives!

Different? Speaking of the largest difference between him and other detectives…

MC: I remember that you opened an antiques shop… could it be that the client wants you to find something old?

Xia Yan: That’s right! The old thing we’re looking for is a vintage magnetic tape.

Vintage tapes sounded right off the bat like an item with an extreme feeling of age. Update speeds to current recording equipment were becoming faster and faster, and magnetic tapes already had been submerged in the currents of history – they were rarely mentioned.

MC: (She specifically sought out a detective to get a magnetic tape… could there be something very important in it?)

Xia Yan: Are you curious about what important things are in the tape?

Was it because he saw me not speak for too long? Xia Yan suddenly said what I was thinking.

MC: Mm… ah! If the client requires you to keep it secret, then don’t say it…

Xia Yan: You’re my assistant, so of course you can ask. Plus, I trust you.

Xia Yan: Although the taxi can only stop near the villa area. We still have to walk for a while to get to our target destination, so let’s save our energy. I’ll tell you about it slowly when we get to our destination.

MC: Mm!

Outside Suburban Villas

MC: We finally made it!

The route to the villa area was complicated, just like a maze. Our trip was full of circles and turns, and we finally arrived at our destination.

Xia Yan: I originally just wanted to take you out for a breath of fresh air and to get some exercise on the side. Didn’t think that your stamina would be so good. If I take you mountain-climbing, you probably would be fine, right?

MC: That’s for sure! Got a new level of respect for me this time?

Xia Yan: During this period of time, have the times that I’ve gotten a new level of respect for you been few, great-law-yer?

MC: Your praise is too much, alright? Great-detec-tive!

MC: The client probably gave you keys, right? You should hurry and open the door.

Xia Yan took a key out from his jacket and carefully opened the main door. When he pushed the door, the particular scent of wooden furniture blew in our faces.

Old Western House

Time had eroded at the old house’s surface bricks and tiles, but they had never truly been stepped on. Refined and stylish wooden furniture, indigo porcelain flower vases, and crystal chandeliers that were dark, but sparkled under the sunlight… In the silence of time, it told of a secret that was only theirs.

MC: Whoa… I feel like the two people who lived here originally have got a pretty good taste in life.

Xia Yan: Based on the materials they provided, this house’s owner was an intellectual with an affluent family background.

MC: Is that so - no wonder I see so many books and scrolls.

MC: Oh right, you haven’t told me about the magnetic tape.

Xia Yan: … Actually, the client isn’t clear on exactly what is in the tape.

PART 2

Xia Yan: … Actually, the client isn’t clear on exactly what is in the tape.

MC: Eh? Then she’s searching for this…

Xia Yan: To help her severely-ill husband recover his memories.

MC: Recover his memories?

Xia Yan: Mm, this is also one of the most important reasons why I took this commission.

Xia Yan: The client is an old grandma of over 60 years old. The grandma’s husband got into an accident over ten years ago, and after surgery, got retrograde amnesia. Typical patients won’t be able to recall certain segments of memories from before the accident, but the grandpa’s situation is extremely severe. He’s basically completely forgotten all past matters…

MC: Then the grandma must be very sad…

Xia Yan: Though she’s sad, the grandma has never given up. She’s kept searching for a way to recover the grandpa’s memories. This year, the grandpa suddenly kept repeating about the tape. The grandma was seriously happy and looked all over the house, but didn’t find the tape that the grandpa was talking about.

MC: So the grandma thought, could the thing be left in the old house from before leaving the country?

Xia Yan: Bingo!

Smiling, Xia Yan winked at me.

MC: Something that can help him remember things must be very important to him.

I originally thought that this was a simple trip to search for something. I never would’ve thought that this kind of story was behind it… I silently made up my mind that I wouldn’t give up before upturning the house upside down!

MC: Then let’s start searching now!

I rolled up my sleeves, preparing to start my so-called “carpet-style” search, when Xia Yan tugged at my arm.

Xia Yan: You aren’t planning to start searching like this, right?

MC: Like this…? Like what? Is something wrong?

Xia Yan: Wait a bit.

Xia Yan pulled out two pairs of gloves from his pocket.

Xia Yan: There’s a layer of dust all over the place here. I brought gloves – stick out your hands, I’ll put them on for you. After all, it’s better to be a little careful when rummaging through things everywhere.

I stuck out my hands, and Xia Yan put the gloves on me.

MC: Thank you… I was just rushing to search and didn’t pay attention to that…

Xia Yan: No big deal. When you’re searching in a moment, remember to watch out for if there’s a safe anywhere.

MC: Aren’t we looking for the tape? Why are we also looking for the safe?

Xia Yan: Apparently, before the grandpa moved, he specifically bought a safe, saying that he wanted to put something in it. The grandma didn’t pay much attention to it back then, as she thought that it was for stuff like real estate documents. Later, when she was looking for things, she noticed that these documents were all nearby. Only then did she feel that something was off. So she suggested to us that, if we can’t find the tape anywhere, it might be in that safe.

MC: I understand. But if we really find the safe, did she tell you the passcode—

Hearing me ask about the passcode, Xia Yan heaved a heavy sigh.

MC: …I forgot that he forgot.

Why does that sound a bit like a tongue-twister…

Xia Yan: The grandma also did her best to ask, but unfortunately, she got nothing. But she did provide us with a clue. She said that in the past, the grandpa loved making sudoku puzzles to work on with her. Maybe this time, it also…

Making sudoku puzzles for the grandma? I remembered that in the past, Xia Yan loved to have me solve his math competition questions, waiting for me to beg him after I couldn’t solve them…

MC: The grandpa must have been a science student…

Xia Yan: Wrong, the grandpa comes from humanities studies. The grandma’s the one in science.

MC: Eh? So he was just flexing his slight skill to an expert when he made those puzzles for the grandma…

Xia Yan: About this…

Xia Yan showed a meaningful smile, deliberately dragging out the last word.

MC: If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Don’t keep me in suspense!

Xia Yan: I was just about to say it!

Xia Yan: When the grandma was recalling it, she remembered when the grandpa confessed to her at the beginning, he sent her a confession sudoku.

MC: … The grandpa really was serious.

Xia Yan: Yeah. It’s just a pity that it’s been too long and the grandma can’t find that sudoku anymore.

Xia Yan: Although this is only our guess. If they really didn’t leave any way to crack the code, I can only…

Only do what…? Could he have brought a tool that can crack open safes?

Xia Yan: Find a lock-opening company after reporting it to my client…

MC: I thought that you were going to take out another high-tech tool.

Xia Yan: Even if I did have one, we still have to go through authorized processes.

MC: I’m joking – could you actually have that kind of tool?

Xia Yan: Of course!

Xia Yan: Alright. The house is so big, so let’s divide and conquer – you take the left and I’ll take the right to save time.

MC: Okay.

Xia Yan I split up, using the bookshelf in the middle of the house as the boundary. The junk room, kitchen, cloakroom. I searched each room one by one, and all were completely empty. No point bringing up the tape and the safe… I didn’t even have the chance to rummage through the cabinets a few more times…

MC: They were way too thorough when moving houses… aside from books, there are only books. Was it because they were too heavy and couldn’t be moved over? There’s only this bookroom left… finally, I can see some other –

Just when I walked in, I saw a magnetic tape player placed on the book table.

MC: Could it be in the tape player?!

PART 3

MC: Could it be in the tape player?!

I expectantly opened the case slot of the tape player on the table. It was still as empty as everything before. After closing the tape player, I turned around, seeing Xia Yan walk into the book room. The gloves he’d originally been wearing had already been taken off.

MC: You’re also done searching? How’s the situation?

Xia Yan: I haven’t gotten anything for now on that side. What about you?

MC: Same here… it’s empty everywhere.

MC: But there are a lot of things in the book room, and there’s also an empty magnetic tape player on the table.

Xia Yan: The grandpa probably listened to the tape often in the book room, so he placed it here. If so, the tape won’t be placed somewhere very far from the tape player. It must be inside the book room.

MC: If the grandpa really did put the tape in the safe, then the safe should also been in the book room.

Xia Yan: That’s right! Let’s search together!

We rummaged through every corner of the bookroom, but we still didn’t find any traces of the tape or the safe.

MC: Ugh, there’s only this bookshelf left…

A large, tall bookshelf was placed on the left side of the book room. There were cabinets that could be pulled open at the bottom, and there were rows of shelves stuffed with books at the top.

MC: There are a lot of things on here…

Xia Yan: This bookshelf is too high, so I’ll search it. You haven’t rested yet, so do you want to sit for a moment?

MC: I’m fine. The great detective hasn’t rested, so how could the assistant that I am also take a rest? You search the top and I’ll search the bottom – we’ll still divide the work!

Xia Yan: As you wish, master assistant!

Even Xia Yan couldn’t completely reach the topmost level of this bookshelf. I was just about to suggest bringing in a chair to boost him up when I saw him carrying in a step stool inside. After setting up the step stool, Xia Yan mibly stepped on. I hurriedly reached out to support the edge of the step stool for him to maintain its balance.

Xia Yan: Don’t worry. I just tried it – this step stool is very secure.

MC: That’s good, but it looks like it’s swaying a little to me – be careful.

I crouched down and opened the bookshelf’s lowermost cabinet. It was piled full with all sorts of book collections inside, and I didn’t notice anything aside from that. I closed the cabinet, stood up, and tilted my head up to look towards the upper shelves. All sorts of books were placed on the shelves; with one glance, I saw—

MC: Sudoku practice question collection?

Remembering the guess that the grandma had said before, I took out that practice question collection. After casually flipping through a few pages, I saw that all the problems had been completed.

MC: (It seems like… there isn’t anything special… in here…)

I held up the practice question collection, wanting to hand it to Xia Yan. I didn’t realize that a little paper slip would fall out from between the pages.

MC: !!!

There was a sudoku problem on the paper. On the problem, there were 16 empty circles, forming a heart shape. There were also pen marks at the top of the problem!

MC: “The world decodes the language of flowers. Only you decode my heart.”

MC: (2… 1… 4… no matter how you look at it, these three numbers in the middle are like that of a confession…)

[Flashback]

Xia Yan: When the grandma was recalling it, she remembered when the grandpa confessed to her at the beginning, he sent her a confession sudoku.

MC: … The grandpa really was serious.

Xia Yan: Yeah. It’s just a pity that it’s been too long, and the grandma can’t find that sudoku anymore.

[Flashback end]

MC: Could it be…

I rushed to pick up that sheet of paper and called Xia Yan’s name.

MC: Xia Yan! I’ve noticed something major!!!

Xia Yan: What did you notice?

Hearing my shouts, Xia Yan rushed to jump down from the step stool.

MC: Guess!

I hid the paper behind my body, wanting to tease him.

Xia Yan: Did you find the sudoku problem that’s suspected to be the passcode?

MC: I guess so… although how did you know that it was a sudoku?

Xia Yan: I noticed a safe behind the pile of books on the uppermost shelf of the bookshelf. Not to mention, you’re holding a sudoku practice question collection – I just needed to link them up to guess it.

MC: I just thought that I noticed that confession sudoku that the grandma couldn’t find. So there really was a safe.

MC: Look.

I handed the sheet I was holding over to Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: !!!

MC: What’s the matter? You seem really surprised…?

Xia Yan: I-it’s nothing… I just happened to have seen this problem before…

How could Xia Yan have seen this problem before… could he have specifically investigated after hearing about the grandma’s memories?

MC: What a coincidence! Do you still remember the answer?

Xia Yan: I remember, I remember! Even if I never saw this before, I could still solve it!

Xia Yan: The way to solve this problem is very easy. Under sudoku’s general rules, the 16 empty circles must be filled with even numbers. Fill in the odd numbers of each 3 x 3 area first, and the answer in the circles will naturally be solved. Wanna try?

PART 4

Xia Yan: Wanna try?

MC: Me? Sure!

I sat beside the table, and Xia Yan handed me a pen.

MC: In the upper left corner, aside from the two circles, the remaining three squares should be filled in with 1, 3, and 9 individually… The first column already has 1 and 9, so the upper left corner should be filled with 3… If the middle square is filled with 9, then the rightmost square in the second row should be filled with one, but that column already has a 1…

MC: So it should be filled with 1, and the remaining square should be filled with 9!

Xia Yan: That’s right. Even though we only filled in three numbers, we can use this to derive the numbers in the other squares.

Xia Yan: Come on, let’s keep going with the next!

Under Xia Yan’s patient guidance, I finally finished solving this sudoku.

MC: 16 circles – a typical person wouldn’t set up such a long passcode…

Xia Yan: Ah… I forgot to tell you that the safe that I noticed only has a three-digit password.

MC: This problem just happens to have three empty circles. But three numbers can be ordered in six ways.

MC: A typical safe only allows you to enter the wrong code three times, and we don’t have other clues…

Xia Yan: Looks like we can only hope to get lucky.

MC: Then do you want to try?

Xia Yan stepped on the step stool again.

Xia Yan: 2, 4, 6…

Beep beep—

The passcode lock was opened.

Xia Yan: We got it this easily – it opened on our first try!

MC: See if the tape is in the box!

Xia Yan: Let me see…

Both of Xia Yan’s hands felt inside. I noticed that the newspaper beside his hand seemed to be about to slip off…

MC: Xia Yan, be careful about the newspaper beside your hand.

Xia Yan: I know. There’s something in the box, so I’ll get it out first.

MC: Okay…

I tilted my head up, looking at Xia Yan. He turned around, handing the thing he had found to me, with his left hand stably holding onto those old newspapers that were about to fall. The dust covering the top was stirred by his movements, floating slowly in the air, drawing out subtle marks. An orangey light shone on his body, covering him in a sweet, honey-like colour.

>Select: Leg

MC: Sit down a bit – I feel like your sitting position right now is a bit dangerous…

Xia Yan: Don’t worry – my sense of balance is very good, and I won’t fall down.

>Select: Leg (2)

Xia Yan: W-what are you doing…

MC: Some… some dust fell there! So I…

>Select: Leg (3)

MC: (I’m really jealous of guys with long legs…)

>Select: Stool

MC: I’ve wanted to ask from the start – where did you find this ladder?

Xia Yan: I saw it earlier when we passed by the stairs – back then, I felt a strong premonition. Sure enough, it came in handy!

>Select: Stool (2)

MC: (The ladder is a triangular structure… it should be very stable.)

>Select: Stool (3)

MC: (Though it’s very stable, it’s still better to not bump into it for Xia Yan’s safety…)

>Select: File

MC: (So it was a leather file envelope after all…)

>Select: File (2)

MC: (It doesn’t look like it has a magnetic tape inside…)

>Select: File (3)

MC: (Whatever – without X-ray vision, I won’t be able to see anything just from looking…)

>Select: Ellipses

Xia Yan waved the hand holding the leather file envelope in front of me, calling me back to reality.

MC: What?

Xia Yan: No wonder you didn’t pay any attention to me no matter how I called at you. Turns out you were zoning out. Quick, take the file envelope – I’m still holding up the newspapers on top, and I don’t have hands to spare for now.

MC: Mm, sure!

MC: Wait… a-achoo!

The pretty dust under the light had now found its way into my nose. I hadn’t taken the file envelope when I sneezed in Xia Yan’s direction.

His seating position was unstable, and only after some messy movements did he manage to maintain his bit of balance on the stool supporting him.

MC: …

Xia Yan: Q-quick, back up a bit!

Seeing Xia Yan look so panicked on the ladder, I hurriedly retreated by a few steps.

MC: S-sorry, the dust…

Xia Yan: I’m not blaming you – I’m just afraid that you won’t be able to dodge if I really do fall.

So Xia Yan’s panicked look just now was out of worry for me…

MC: I’m fine – you should hurry down from the ladder.

Xia Yan: Sure.

Xia Yan handed the file envelope to me. I was just about to take it, when the dust scattered by the old newspapers made him sneeze successively, multiple times.

Xia Yan: A-achoo--!

Xia Yan retracted his left hand slightly, and the newspapers on the bookshelf suddenly fell down in a pile!

Xia Yan: Ah! Careful--!

With my attention previously fixed on the file envelope, I couldn’t duck away at all!

Amidst the panic, I unconsciously closed my eyes.

PART 5

I heard the heavy sound of the ladder toppling down, but the pain I was expecting never struck. Xia Yan’s warm hand protected my head from behind, serving as the cushion between me and the floorboards.

I opened my eyes. Xia Yan’s and my faces were very close.

MC: …?

After my thoughts stagnated for a few seconds, I gradually came to from my surprise.

MC: Xia Yan? Are you alright?

Xia Yan: Huh?!

It seemed like he hadn’t recovered from this accident yet. His wide-open eyes stared right at me.

The distance between him and me was way too close – only then did I notice that I had never clearly seen his eyes. That beautiful coral colour made me unable to resist recalling the fairytale I read when I was little – the skirt of Princess Aurora.* Because we were so close, I could even clearly see me, at an utter loss, in his eyes.

MC: The things that fell just now crashed into your head – lower it and let me see…

Xia Yan remained frozen still in his original place, staring straight at me.

Xia Yan: Your eyes…

MC: Hm?

Xia Yan: Are really beautiful…

Xia Yan: They look like... a sky full of stars are hidden in them…

Xia Yan lowered his body, and the distance between him and I gradually—

Ding—

A crisp sound echoed in the quiet room. That key that Xia Yan always wore on his neck clinked lightly against the decoration on my blouse’s collar.

I suddenly regained my wits and immediately felt the heat on my cheeks.

MC: !!

Xia Yan: !!!

Xia Yan pulled away, fast as lightning, and awkwardly moved his gaze elsewhere. Those scattered, old newspapers covered his body, scattering innumerable particles into the air. The moment he moved his gaze from me, I saw that his cheeks and ears had been dyed with a distinct pink colour. Right when I was also somewhat unsure of what to do, I saw the file envelope that had fallen on the side from the corner of my eye—

MC: W-where’s the file envelope you were holding…

Xia Yan: Ah… ah! I’ll get up now and grab it!

As if he’d just woken up, Xia Yan straightened his body in front of me, bringing the sunshine scent he had that I’d smelled from a slight breeze. His slightly rapid breathing revealed his inner panic – he looked basically like a different person from the normal him.

Xia Yan: Does it hurt from the fall?!

MC: … No.

He shifted his gaze away again, turning his head and picking up the leather envelope on the ground. His embarrassed expression still did not fade away. I patted my chest, grateful that he had pulled away after getting up – otherwise, he would definitely hear my over-the-top heartbeat.

MC & Xia Yan: I…

…

MC: Hurry, open and see what’s inside…

Xia Yan: Mhmm…

Xia Yan rapidly untied the string loop at the back of the envelope.

Xia Yan: As expected, it was the tape! Now the commission’s been smoothly completed!

Xia Yan: … Speaking of which, aren’t you curious?

MC: Curious about what? The things in the tape?

Xia Yan nodded.

MC: I keep feeling like it’ll have something to do with the grandma…

He looked at me, seeming to smile yet also seeming to not smile. Only after a while did he say a few carefree words.

Xia Yan: That’s also what I think.

The moment his and my eyes met, my heartbeat suspiciously accelerated a bit.

MC: Could it be for the same reason as me?

Xia Yan: … I was just kind of thinking from another position.

MC: Hm?

Xia Yan: If it were me, what I least want to forget… is definitely you.

Xia Yan: Wait no – no matter what happens, I will definitely, definitely not forget you.

Xia Yan’s tone was incomparably solemn, leaving me at somewhat of a loss.

MC: Why did you suddenly…

Xia Yan: Those precious memories with you – if they were just words on a journal or the sounds on a tape… that would be too much of a waste!

He looked at me, showing his typical smile again. The orange light smoothed the curve of his mouth until it was just right. I felt like, no matter who it was, anyone would be infected by his warmth.

MC: I… there’s dust on your face – I’ll wipe it for you…

I didn’t know what to say, and when I saw the dust on the side of his face, I hurried to take out a handkerchief and wipe it for him. When the dust had been wiped, I looked back at Xia Yan… his face… was really red…

>Is it because it’s hot? >Embarrassed until his face got red?

MC: Xia Yan… your face is really red… Are you too tired from running up and down just now?

Xia Yan: Ah… yeah! It must be because it’s been too long since I worked out! Starting from tomorrow, I’ll double my original workout plan and make up for it!

MC: Is that needed…

>Is it because it’s hot? >Embarrassed until his face got red?

MC: I’m just helping you wipe it – why is your face as red as an apple? When we were little, you’d go out and run all over the place and return completely dirty, and I also helped you wipe your face like this…

Xia Yan: Haha, don’t bring up the embarrassing things from when we were small – back then, I didn’t know anything. But after splitting apart for so long… there are some things… that I inevitably learned.

MC: …

Xia Yan: Aiya, the floor’s a mess – I’ll clean up.

MC: I’ll help!

After finding the tape, Xia Yan and I returned the papers and books that had fallen on the floor back to their original places.

Xia Yan: Let’s go – we’re done cleaning up, so let’s go home!

MC: Mhmm.

Under Xia Yan’s urging, we left this remote mansion with the tape we had found.

TL Note:

*Not sure if this is referring to Sleeping Beauty? I don’t remember pretty eyes and skirts being major points in her story though…

PART 6

TL Note: Italicized content (except for locations) were originally written in English in the game, not Chinese.

Antiques Shop

After getting back to the antiques shop, Xia Yan took out an audio reader from who-knows-where.

MC: With this, you’re planning to…?

Xia Yan: Oh, if I didn’t get my client’s approval, I wouldn’t randomly mess with it. The client this time specifically hoped that I could transfer the contents of the tape into an audio recording file and send it to her.

MC: That’s true. Very few families these days would have this kind of old-fashioned tape player.

Xia Yan placed the tape into the audio reader, connecting the recoding wire to the audio reader’s terminal.

Xia Yan: Alright! We can start.

Xia Yan pressed the play button. An inexperienced, youthful sound flowed out from the speaker.

Young Girl: “That…”

The owner of the voice was a very brisk girl.

Young Girl: “I’m too direct when I speak. I know you also like… uh… no! I found out from your friend that you like to listen to music. If you can understand this song… Do your best to not make me, a girl, take the initiative to confess! Dummy!”

After a short pause, the clear sound of the girl’s singing rung out…

Young Girl: “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older…”

She had clearly been so straightforward when she spoke, but when she sang, it was extremely gentle. A girl wearing earbuds, swaying gently with the music seemed to appear before my eyes… She used her own gentle voice, eyes, and movements… doing all within her ability to express her most sincere love to the recipient.

MC: What song is this? It sounds really good.

Xia Yan: I’ll check… “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”, an old song from 60 years ago.

The melodious song echoed in the antiques shop, every note reverberating in the bottom of the heart.

MC: No wonder the grandpa was so concerned about this tape… this was probably sung by the grandma for him when they were young.

Xia Yan: It’s impossible to not feel moved from receiving a confession like this.

MC: True, even I’m moved!

Xia Yan: Do you like this song a lot?

MC: I do… but no matter how good a song sounds, it’s only when the singer expresses emotions that they’ll be able to touch people’s hearts the most.

MC: I really want to have the grandpa listen to it fast!

After the sound of the music dissipated, Xia Yan took out the tape.

Xia Yan: Transferring the audio recording file is actually really quick, but I still need the next week to clean it up and make the sounds clearer.

MC: Great! That…

Xia Yan: What’s the matter?

MC: I want to listen to it for a moment more – can you play the original song?

Xia Yan: And here I thought you wanted to hear me sing.

MC: Could you? I remember that you just searched up the song name.

Xia Yan: I can learn if I don’t know how to – my learning ability is really strong.

MC: Okay, then I’ll invite great singing god Xia Yan to sing once!

The sky grew gradually dimmer. Xia Yan sent me home, half humming and half singing the whole way. The night wind blew past, and the brisk melody rode on the wind, echoing at the end of the road.

Home

MC: Download complete!

After getting home, I opened the music app I often used, search up this song, and downloaded it.

MC: Eh, this song was even the theme song of a movie? “50 First Dates”… First Love 50 Times? It’s a pretty interesting name. How about I call up Xia Yan next time to watch this movie?

Just when I was searching up resources on this movie, Xia Yan called.

MC: Have you gotten home?

Xia Yan: Mhmm, I did! I just received my client’s reply…

MC: So fast?

Xia Yan: It’s the time difference – she just happened to be online. What we found really was the confession tape that the grandma gave to the grandpa back then.

Xia Yan: Back then she wasn’t sure that it would be a success, so she placed the confession tap in a pile of music tapes and sent them over. But the grandpa didn’t react at all, so she thought that he didn’t hear it at all or lost it. Plus, afterwards, the grandpa didn’t continue to buy new tapes.

MC: Then in the end, they…

Xia Yan: About this…

Xia Yan’s tone was full of smiles.

Xia Yan: The grandma said, she originally thought that being just friends was also fine. After, it was the grandpa who took the initiative to chase her and confess.

MC: Wait, could it be with that confession sudoku?

Xia Yan: That’s right! The grandma was very reclusive back then, so as she lived on her own, she’d often make questions for fun.

MC: I never would’ve thought that the grandpa was faking a calm, collected demeanor, while actually being elated for sure internally…

Xia Yan: Yeah, the grandma also said that, no wonder he would often sneak into the book room in the past, staying there for a long time when he did.

MC: What the grandpa remembered at the end wasn’t the name of the song – instead, it was the tape. This means that what he loves isn’t this song – it’s the grandma.

Xia Yan: So she decided that she would sing for him in the future, regardless if he remembers it again or doesn’t.

Xia Yan: I wanted to tell you earlier so you would be happier.

Xia Yan: It’s pretty late now – sleep early. Goodnight!

MC: Goodnight!

Only after hanging up did I remember that I hadn’t told him about the movie.

MC: Oh well… I’ll send him a message later.

Antiques Shop

Xia Yan sat before the table. The song was still playing on the terminal.

He hummed and sang quietly.

Xia Yan: When we can say goodnight and stay together. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up… In the morning when the day is new.

If we could say goodnight to each other and nestle together, if we could open our eyes together, welcoming each new morning, wouldn’t that be nice.

Xia Yan: I trust that, the precondition “if” doesn’t exist between me and you…

Xia Yan: I will definitely make all of this true.

-END-

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #夏彦 #tot translation #finally caught up on all the major xia yan content!!!#anything that i haven't translated (one date and two calls) that relate to his cards have been translated by others #this date is pretty early on in the timeline #feeling lost now that i have no major xia yan content to work on #i could work on main story ch.6 #but everything after part 6-1 doesn't have the slightest bit of xia yan in it #very sad #so it might take a while

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monikafilefan · 4 years

Text

seven years

This is an answer to a couple different anon prompts from a long time ago mixed together. One with Maggie finding Scully’s journal and seeing what she’d written to Mulder. The other prompt was for Mulder to spend a lot of time at Scully’s place after “all things.”

tagging @today-in-fic

Margaret Scully considers herself to be a great many things in life. She’s a conservative woman of God who has quietly voted democrat since the day she said “I do.” A loyal navy wife who has worked her slender fingers to the bone as a stay-at-home mother of four; a stickler for rules who occupies her time spent alone with a well-kept home; a grandmother who loves to spoil her grandbabies with cookies before dinner and always reads “just one last story, Grandma” at bedtime.

She also considers herself an excellent judge of character and has learned over the years when not to pry in the private lives of others without invitation. Though she cannot say she has never let curiosity take over and wishes her children would invite her in to visit those hidden recesses of their minds once in a while.

But blind is one thing she is not.

Arriving at Dana’s for a quiet Mother’s Day brunch after church today has only confirmed her long-lasting suspicions of the current relationship status between her daughter and Fox Mulder. One look at Dana’s flushed cheeks and swooning smile as she utters her partner’s name across the kitchen table would have been enough to satisfy Maggie’s curiosity about whether or not her daughter has finally embraced what lay within her heart.

Yet, there is much more to be seen here than a meaningful smile and pink cheeks.

And Maggie sees plenty.

A pair of men’s running shoes - size twelve - sit snugly by her daughter’s size sevens. A large leather jacket that smells of familiar cologne is slung over the coat rack by the door, only partially hidden by the sweater she’d gifted Dana four months ago on her first birthday of the new Millenium. There are two mismatched mugs resting next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes inside a cup in the bathroom - bristles touching in comfortable ease - and two towels hanging dry over the shower door. The entire bathroom smells of men’s body wash.

A new development seven years in the making.

Maggie dries her hands at the sink and shuts the bathroom door, smiling warmly as she goes.

“You need help cleaning up, Dana?”

“No.” She shakes her head and turns the water off in the kitchen sink, soap bubbles rising above the dirty plates as she wiggles her rubber-gloved fingers. “I’ve got it, Mom, today’s your day. Why don’t you take a seat in the living room? I’ll make us some tea and we can talk.”

It’s her day, too, Maggie thinks, but will never say. There will always be an ache in her heart at the thought of her child unable to raise one of her own, yet her pain is one she soothes regiously on her knees come Sunday morning.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m fine.”

Maggie eyes the paired coffee mugs once again and taps each one with her manicured nail, giving her daughter a chance to open up if she so chooses.

“Do these need to be washed, too?” she asks, knowing good and well that they do not.

Dana’s blue eyes widen as they flick to Maggie’s but replies with a casually dismissive, “No. I cleaned them this morning,” before resuming her scrubbing. This time, Dana does so with a renewed flush and a bitten lip.

“That’s good, honey,” Maggie says with a reassuring squeeze to her daughter’s shoulder, but cannot resist adding, “It’s good to spend mornings with those you care about,” as she turns to leave her with her thoughts.

As Dana finishes with the dishes, Maggie allows herself to admire the intimate details of her daughter’s home - now that she knows for certain with whom she’s been sharing so much of it lately. Her slender fingers trail along the bookshelf, scanning the titles of anatomy books, several science journals in which Special Agent Dana K. Scully, MD has been published, and some classic novels she recalls her freckled nose being buried in over the years. All are in alphabetical order. So very Dana.

She chuckles and her eyes catch on a leather book that is not neatly tucked in line with the rest. It’s black with golden letters etched on the cover that simply says “Journal.”

Curious, Maggie holds the journal close and contemplates on whether she should peek, selfishly hoping that more than just the surface-level emotion her daughter allows her to see might reveal itself.

Yet, the thought of betraying Dana’s trust unnerves her. Her daughter trusts so few these days.

As she firmly decides to return such private thoughts to where she found them, she notices a piece of yellow paper slipping out of its back pages. Maggie quickly tries to nab the square bookmark so Dana wouldn’t lose her page due to her mother’s intrusion when the spine flips wide open, fanning out words of heartache her eyes simply cannot unsee.

And every word is intended for someone else.

To whom it may concern,

To my family,

Dear Mulder,

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The luminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you’ll read it and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other…

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie exhales through her fingertips, hesitantly scanning the pages scrawled in intimacy with watery eyes.

...Mulder, if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done. And though we’ve traveled far together this last distance must necessarily be traveled alone...

Months spent watching helplessly as the bright light of life burning within her daughter slowly faded more and more each day was the hardest thing she as a mother had borne. Watching and waiting for what many thought was the inevitable is something she would never wish upon anyone. And here she is, sneakingly seeking some sort of deeper understanding of what her baby girl has endured.

...Mulder, I feel you close though I know you are pursuing your own path. For that I am grateful, more than I could ever express. I need to know you’re out there if I am ever to see through this...

Maggie sighs and swipes at a tear hovering along her lashes, hands shaking as she adjusts the book to replace it, when the piece of paper floats to the floor.

Bending down to retrieve it, the journal pages flutter open across her lap to another time in Dana’s life. Maggie’s chin quivers at the words displayed before her.

Dear Mulder,

There was a time in the not so distant past when I told you I was throwing this journal out. That I chose to leave my moments of weakness in the past. But the time has come to admit to myself that losing my only child, my daughter that was never meant to be with you by my side, only confirms that the ache of what lies within my heart is meant for you to bear along with me. That this time, the distance must necessarily be traveled together…

Maggie gasps at the strength and conviction laced within her daughter’s words. The raw heartache Dana must still feel after burying a piece of herself is a familiar one Maggie does not have the strength to re-expose.

But her baby has not experienced it alone; she’s had her partner, and that has been enough.

Her eyes burn and a hot tear rolls down the swell of her cheek, splashing onto the next page before she can stop it. Pinching the tear-stained paper between her thumb and index finger, she waves it through air in hopes of drying the smeared ink before she shuts the book. As she does, Maggie turns the page fully and sees a single sentence hastily written over and over with what she recognizes as fierce emotion pouring from her child’s fingertips.

Dear Mulder,

Personal interest is all that I have. Personal interest is all that I have... Personal interest: it’s something I’ll always have, even if I should not.

“Oh, goodness.” She should not be reading any of this. If Dana wants her to know what secrets lie in her heart, she will tell her.

Maggie picks up the yellow paper next to her feet and immediately realizes it’s more than merely just a bookmark. It’s a note addressed to “Scully” that’s written in fresh ink and time stamped for today’s date.

I never imagined you’d invite me to see your private thoughts you’ve kept so well guarded over the years. I’m truly grateful; for your loyalty, your trust… for you, Scully. More than words can ever express.

Sniffling and riddled with guilt, Maggie slips the note meant for her daughter to read in private back behind the journal’s last written entry. This time, Dana’s greeting to the man she’s clearly been loving from afar for years is a very different one.

To my constant, my touchstone...

Maggie quickly shuts the book and stands, heart racing at her lack of self-control as she places the leather bound memento back on the shelf.

She has known for years that her daughter loves her partner a great deal, and that he loves her just as fiercely in return. She’s not an oblivious woman and never has been.

No, she thinks, as her eyes scan the room once again to land on a lone photo of Dana and Fox standing close together at a crime scene, staring into one another’s eyes, blind she is certainly not.

“Mom, I have tea brewing if…” Dana enters the room and stops a foot away as she takes in the likely overwhelming expression on her mother’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Maggie swallows a lump in her throat and smiles softly at her daughter across the room. Suddenly she sees the tomboy with wild red hair and dirty knees; then the teenage girl with freckles and braces kissing a boy on their front porch. She sees a proud Dana graduating with honors and jumping head first into med school, only to be eagerly recruited by the FBI. She then sees that pride and determination focus on a quest that Maggie will never truly understand, but she doesn’t need to.

No, Fox Mulder is the reason Maggie now sees a real and fulfilled happiness on her daughter’s face for the very first time.

“Nothing, honey. Nothing at all,” Maggie assures, and she means it.

Dana cocks a brow - just like her father used to - and points to the kitchen. “Okay, well I’ve a kettle on the stove if you want some tea.”

The house phone rings before Maggie can respond and Dana stares at it carefully, as if considering whether or not she should pick up. At the fourth ring, she gives in and answers with a breathy, “Yes, Mulder?”

Maggie smirks, silently moving about the living room to gather her things.

“The audit has been moved up? To tomorrow?” Dana huffs with her back turned, tapping her nails along her desk. “Isn’t this a little short notice coming from Skinner?”

Walking into the kitchen with her purse and sweater slung over her arm, Maggie removes the teapot from the burner before it screams for attention. She pours her daughter a cup the way Dana likes it and sets it on the dining room table as she finishes her call.

“Yeah... yes, I can do that,” Dana murmurs, failing to fight off a smile before swiftly hanging up. “I’m sorry, Mom I-”

“Have to go?”

“Mm,” she confirms and darts her gaze out the window. Maggie knows the summer sun is only partially to blame for the glow on her Irish child’s porcelain cheeks. “Something like that.”

“Fox needs you.” A question isn’t needed this time and both Scully women know why.

“Yes,” Dana draws a deep breath and nods. “It looks that way.”

Maggie has seen more than enough today to know that it’s always been that way. And when her daughter finally looks at her again, Maggie is staring at her gleefully.

“What, Mom?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Dana runs her tongue across her upper lip, expectant. “You may as well.”

Maggie shrugs nonchalantly, openly grinning now with a motherly confession perched at the tip of her tongue.

“I may be near-sighted, Dana, but I’m not blind yet,” she teases, reaching up to cup her daughter’s reddening cheek. “Not blind at all.”

side note: Mulder leaving evidence of his weekend sleepovers at Scully’s is a little slice of head canon happiness I like to cling to pre Requiem. I do however believe the evidence shows he moved in with her after he came back in “deadalive,” just not beforehand.

#angst #romance #msr fanfic #maggie scully #cancer arc #pre requiem #journal entries #mulder spends weekends at scully's

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 004

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all! Pushing out a baby chapter early so I can focus on my other fic! Thank you so much for the support on this fic. Billy goes to dinner and Tries It. That's the chapter. :D Tag list open!!!

Chapter 4: No Day But Today

“Claudia, do you have the keys?” Mona crossed the salon floor.

“I do, we’re fine here, go on. Dusty is spending the night at the Wheeler’s place. Having some castle and dragons party.” She'd gushed.

“Feel free to close up early if we’re dead the last hour. Thanks, sugar.” Mona patted her back as she followed Evie out the door.

“Can I drive?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Mona smiled.

Evie was saving for a car. And college. And her future.

And it was a lot.

Truthfully, she didn’t care for school. It was in the way. Wished her lyrics could carry her straight to the red carpet before all those flashing paparazzi.

Wanting to unwind, Evie hid in her room when she got home. Shut the curtains and prodded at herself before the vanity. Sorted dangly earrings in a mesh metal display. Huffing to lean over when Bourbon swept into her legs. His little body shivered and she plucked him up.

“Okay, BB, you’re my best guy. You can’t let me down.” She scratched under his chin, gave him a little boop on the nose. “You take one look at that walking Def Leppard poster and you hiss and run. Got it?”

A purr.

“Good boy. You’re my only hope here. We can’t lose. Not to Billy Hargrove.” Arms let him down. She'd feel this sentiment often about Billy. A sigh. Evie applied a fresh lip color and paused. “Ugh.” She pushed up and didn’t change. Did her school work to get it out of the way and wandered out, turning the TV on to some game show. The savory smell of dinner wafted. “Need help here, Mom?” One tug and the ceiling fan spun, cycling cooler air.

“No, I have it. You can set the table for me.” Mona drained some noodles.

“Got it.” Plates and cutlery clicked around. Evie slid everything into place, perked up when the doorbell rang. Mona turned and smiled as her daughter adjusted fabric and fixed curls into place all the way to the door.

Evie half expected Billy to not even show. But, there he was. Sly smile and all. Billow of date night cologne. A vision in moonlight.

“Hey.” Evie said slowly. The surprise evident.

“Hey." He mirrored it.

"You're here." An exhale out. He blinked, found himself again.

"I was gonna steal flowers from the old lady’s garden across the way, but there’s a huge opossum in her trash guarding it.” He tilted his head, earring catching the porch light and she cracked a grin.

"Big Ben? Yeah, he's the neighborhood menace. Chief Hopper's nemesis because they get so many calls about it. You'd be a hero if you took him on." Evie persuaded lighter. His face fell.

"I'm not trying to die in Hawkins, Indiana. That thing was bigger than anyone on our football team."

“Color me impressed. King Billy didn’t want to do battle for the first time?” She actually teased him. Her nose crinkled when she smiled. Cute. “Shock and awe.”

Billy felt this tug pulse up his ribcage. Pulled a genuine chuckle from his lips. He had to look away to give it. Glowy in starlight.

“Sometimes I surprise people. I know my weight class and the pests here look like they were grown and mutated in some lab.” He shrugged into the door frame with one fist lifted, clicking his lighter shut. Hooded eyes all over. Evie went still as he leaned forward to her face with his tone lowering. “Am I allowed inside? Pretty please?”

“With cherries on top?" Bright, wet lips parted. His lashes fluttered, a baritone sinking. Bringing her with him.

"With anything your heart desires on top." Smooth.

"Huh. I guess. For now.” Evie stepped out of the way. “We go to school with plenty of those lab grown pests by the way.”

“No kidding.” Billy shrugged his jacket off and she awkwardly reached to take it. Hung it up behind her.

Evie turned to see him staring again and swallowed a hard lump down. Thought maybe he saw all the begonias blooming behind her eyes and up her throat.

“Billy.” Mona came out of the kitchen, arms out. “So glad you’re here.”

“You saved me from a sad date with a TV dinner.” Billy winked, charming Ms. Fenny to bits. She giggled and shook her hair out.

“Dinner’s got about ten minutes. Why don’t you show him around, baby?” Mona hurried back off, leaving them alone again.

“Tour? Great idea." He peered behind Evie. A mission at hand. "Where’s the cat?”

“Hiding from you, clearly.” Evie beamed, gesturing. “Welcome to the living room. Mom's showroom is a better word.”

“Your mom like tchotchkes or what?” He came to the full mantle. Scanning.

“How’d you guess?” Evie reluctantly trailed to his side.

It was strange to let this boy wander around and see little bits of her life. Guess things about her as he went along, trailing deft fingers about the fireplace. She wondered what was blooming within the pit of his stomach, if anything.

Mona Fenny's house overwhelmed.

Photographs, plants, and crafts. Little porcelain figurines. Too many handmade candles. Crochet projects. A full dollhouse on a table in the corner.

“My grandma passed a lot of craft skills down. She owned this amazingly strange trinket and voodoo shop in New Orleans that my aunts run now after Nana died."

"Your mom didn't stay for a piece of that?" Billy let his eyes trail over every little thing.

"Ah, I don't know. She was the baby and married pretty young. Seemed like she wanted something new," Evie peered behind her and whispered. "Never really got along with Nana like her older sisters did."

Billy hummed a little. Decided not to pry with Mona in the next room. Evie brought him to the corner and flicked a lamp on.

"Mom’s dollhouse is her pride and joy. Lights up and everything.”

“Tell me why your mother has a framed photograph of Dolly Parton next to a picture of you two on the fireplace. And the same photo shrunk down in the dollhouse?”

“Science may tell us the truth one day when the world is ready. And I fear for that day.” She replied in all seriousness and Billy snorted. Laughing.

A truly enchanting sound Evie decided she liked.

“And I have to say,” he plucked a photo off a bookshelf with a broad grin, “this one is my favorite.”

One of Evie on Halloween. Had to be about six. Dressed in the campiest pink daisy costume with a huge toothy smile.

“Gah,” she cringed and swiped it from his hand, “this house is a museum of embarrassment.”

“You’re into the museum shit, guess this is like our first-” Billy stopped himself from producing the damning word when Evie turned. Blushing. Oof. He scratched the back of his neck. “So, uh, you got a bedroom in here or do you sleep in the dollhouse?”

“You won’t find the cat that easily.” She caught him peering around again and led him past the kitchen. “C’mon, not much to the rest of the house. Garage. Spare room.” That used to be her dad’s office space. “Mom’s room. Attic up there and on this end. My cat's room that he lets me stay in too.”

The door was open so Billy prodded it to peek inside. Evie exhaled and flicked the light on.

It didn’t feel like a teenage girl’s bedroom. Not covered in decorations and pictures like the rest of the house. No posters cut from magazines covered in pink lipstick kisses.

A vanity full of disorganized makeup. Desk. Overfilled bookcase of novels and tapes. Crafts and trinkets she collected in labeled tin boxes. Dresser covered in jewelry. Music player. Bed. Closet. Couple of pictures taped by the vanity and headboard. Mostly Evie and Heather laughing and bright. Her beloved acoustic guitar propped in the corner.

It felt like it was decorated by one trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything was compacted. Billy eyed the wall by her bed. Realized most of the papers were notes with random lyrics and words patched together.

“Yeah, I tend to jot every little thought down even when I’m half asleep and hope it makes a song eventually.” She peered aside. It felt too intimate, letting Billy shift about the space.

"Hey, everybody has a method." Two fingers traced over a note taped up to straighten it. She caught the ring gleaming on his middle finger. “My-”

“Ah, don’t read them aloud, I may combust.”

“Oh?” Billy slunk toward her, licked his lips. A hungry way about it. Mouth watering fangs full of sweet venom. Wonder how they'd feel sinking into her throat. “Because I make you nervous, Angel?”

“No, it’s just...just…weird.” Evie pressed up into her desk. Billy closed the distance. Got within inches of her. “It’s weird.”

Repetition didn’t ease the sear of those ocean eyes drowning her too sweetly. She felt her chest fill and flutter all the way down. Flowers unfurled to be plucked and caressed. Billy pushed into the space until she was seated there on the desk. Scrambling further. Unable to climb the wall.

“You do seem nervous though, Evie.” His tone hushed. Fingers brushed her thighs and palms came to rest there. The bunched fabric of her dress barely separating them. She inhaled his cologne. Smelled peppermint from his breath. Chest heaving.

Billy knew this wasn’t part of the quest. If that’s what this was, maybe that was a nicer way to put it. Maybe rationalizing it a thousand times would help him get some sleep at night. Just show her a good night, cash in, and go home.

It still sounded shitty. Wasn't doing Evie any favors. This girl painted too many iridescent colors. They could bleed and Billy wouldn't step away if it pooled too close.

He liked to watch the blush spread across her freckled cheeks. Rose petals falling into a cool pond. Liked the way her nose scrunched when she smiled and when she was cross with him.

Billy didn't want her because she was a conquest. A challenge. Sure, she challenged him, that was part of it. And she also made him smile like he was looking at the rocking ocean waves again. Sand and wind kissing his warm skin. There was a mystery in those molten eyes he wanted to taste for himself. Maybe it was possible to just enjoy a person without strings.

To let colors bleed and swirl. To just watch it happen without fear or judgement. To not step away from it either. Just sink right in and create those echoing ripples.

It was too sweet and peculiar, how soft Evangeline Fenny was against the hard edges of his steel frame. So sharp, it warded everyone off.

But, not Evie, she fit perfectly against him. Fire with fire. It gave them so much in this world that had forgotten them both. Freckles to count. Eyelashes to wish upon. Flesh curves and razor angles to explore.

Hell, he even enjoyed how shaken she got as he neared and how still she went when his fingers trailed up her legs.

Evie watched his muscled chest rise, the saint pendant caught the light. Looked up at his eyes and then his mouth because it couldn’t be helped. Billy Hargrove filled Evie's space and lungs with sugary smoke. He was too many colors in one soul. So, he pushed further because those painted lips were big and full and right fucking there.

One curious taste, that couldn't hurt.

Brought his hand up toward her chin and leaned forth when…

“Dinner!”

Evie practically shoved Billy back. Scrambled up so the desk gave a rut. Bright red as he stumbled.

“Sorry.” She shuddered, passing him. Smelling of amber perfume. “Coming, mom.” Billy stared at the back of her hair. Blinked a couple times to pull himself together. To rationalize some.

Curiosity. A deadly thing and so sweet too.

It felt like he was dreaming and woke up sitting at the dinner table. Evie clicked a Coke in front of him, flashed a knowing expression that made him smirk before she sat down.

“Now, I left a bowl in the kitchen to cool. We always bring extra to Miss Abigail, she’s three doors down.” Mona was setting plates about.

“It looks amazing, Ms. Fenny.” Billy even shifted a dish to help make room for another.

“Please, Billy, just Mona. Ms. Fenny was my mother and she was a harder woman.” She set a glass of water down and smoothed her dress out, sitting. Billy went for his fork and his hand was snatched. Evie shot him a look as Mona reached out. “I always say grace. Don’t feel pressured to join, sweetheart.”

Billy peered at Evie’s warm hand in his and accepted her mother’s. Bowed his head a little so Mona could say her prayer.

“Bless us, oh Lord. For this and all we are about to receive, make us truly grateful. And thank you for bringing Billy to our humble table, may he truly feel welcomed in our home. Please guide and protect him. Through Christ, we pray. Amen.”

“Amen.” Evie offered softer. Lips lifting when Billy peered at their hands again leaving each other. Clearly not expecting such words from a neighbor.

“You’ll forgive me, Billy, some people say they leave their hearts open. I just let mine fill the room.” Mona settled a napkin in her lap. “May I ask, if your family is religious at all?”

“Dad’s Lutheran.” Which meant Susan was by default now whatever she believed before. “We don’t go to church or anything.”

As if Neil Hargrove could drag his son under a steeple without one of them spontaneously combusting.

“Well, that’s perfectly fine.” Mona cut each of her meatballs into smaller pieces which Evie mirrored. “Evie doesn’t attend with me when I go. Although, the choir sure misses her voice.”

“Mom...” A teenage whine, near silent as she prodded at noodles.

“She get all the solos?” Billy encouraged the pink spreading Evie’s cheeks.

“Oh, every single one. She’s even been asked to come sing the national anthem at minor league baseball games.” Mona prattled and Evie’s head fell back.

“Mom!” Another drawn out groan. Evie sunk down lower.

“Oh, Evangeline, let your mother brag about you.” Mona ignored her.

"Yeah, Evangeline." He chimed in, earning a harder glare.

“Now, Billy, you’ve been in Hawkins just over two months?” Mona continued. Blue eyes lifted from the plate before he gave a nod. “How are you liking it? I’m sure it’s such a huge change from California. You must miss the beach.”

“Getting used to the cold.” Billy speared a meatball and didn’t sound convincing.

“I’ll bet you’ve never seen snow before, your poor sinuses aren’t going to know what to do. Anyone in your family takes ill, just give us a ring.” Such a mom. “It took me a few years to get used to the cold here too. We moved when Evie was just a baby straight up from N’aw Lins.”

Billy bit his tongue.

“What type of music do you write?” Billy asked and there was a beat when Evie realized he was looking at her. Addressing her pointedly. Maybe to make conversation and suck up to her talkative mother. Evie’s back grew taut, lips opening.

“Evie’s gonna be a folk singer.” Mona had cut in. “Voice of an angel, she’ll make it big. She’s been in competitions, just one look from any talent scout and she’s sold.” Evie sank down again to go back to her food. Billy watched her roll a meatball around her plate like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Mona Fenny struck Billy as a woman who always meant well. Frilly like a lace doily. So well, she steamrolled over you because she knew best. Evie barely got two syllables out before her mother was flicking her hair and boasting. A doll that constantly had the string in its voice box yanked.

Billy learned a great deal about her.

That Mona had been arrested twice in her life for marching and protesting. Civil and women’s rights. She joked that she hadn't been arrested for gay rights yet, but looked forward to the inevitable. She was a pageant queen too. Stopped when she found out she was pregnant and couldn’t compete after that. No bitterness there of course. She had a daughter to mold and complete the legacy now.

Mona insisted on taking the plates away. Grabbing her own, Billy’s, and a side dish.

Evie was still rolling that meatball around until Billy plucked up a fork, stabbed it, and swallowed in one bite. She perked with flushed cheeks. Glared again.

Billy wanted attention.

“Your mom is friendly.” Statement of the fucking millennium.

“Just wait til she busts out her old pageant scrapbooks. You'll never see home again.” Evie quickly flashed a smile and picked up her own plate to follow her mother off. Billy stood too, peered around. That cat had to be close. “Give it up.” Arms crossed when she leaned into the doorway working a melting ice cube around her mouth. Swallowed it whole instead of crunching. Water ran in the kitchen behind her.

“We agreed on an hour of television.” Billy matched her stance, saw her hip cock.

“Half hour.”

“Hour.” Billy went in to sit on the couch like he owned it. Legs spread. “Come on in, the water’s fine, Evangeline.” Evie plucked up the remote, sat as far away from him as she could. Turned the TV on to something campy just to make him suffer.

“Fucking Love Boat. Really? Susan watches this crap.”

“You said the full hour.” Evie flashed a smug grin. “I think The Golden Girls is on too.”

“Love Boat is fine.” Billy lifted his hand. Swiped the remote from her to set it on the other side of him. They both sunk in there. Eyes on the screen. Mona left them alone to bring the plate to their neighbor, stayed for conversation.

Billy fidgeted. Stretching to scoot closer so he could nudge his knee into Evie's. Her face remained at total peace. She pushed back at his leg which drew slow smiles upon them both.

“What kind of music do you really like, or does your mother always do all the talking?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Evie felt him peer back over and held herself. A beat.

“Yeah, your dreams. They don't matter." Came sarcasm. "A girl who wants her name in lights. Don't spend too much time feeling for the switch in darkness, Angel."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just asking. You really want to sit in silence to this cheesefest? Young actresses paired with old ass grandpas playing love sick.” Billy put his arm up over the couch. Missed Evie twitch. Got his hand smacked for tugging her curl like a giddy little boy.

“I don’t know,” Evie faced him with a shrug, “somewhere in the rock and pop area. Maybe with a touch of soul. Not the hair metal I’m sure you’re into."

How beautiful she looked when she hoped.

"And my name in lights won't ever be enough, I need people to chant it too.”

Lips curled at Evie.

“Better than folk music.” Billy decided. Pride welled because she smiled too. Genuinely. Evie fiddled with her necklace. Delicate little music note caught the technicolor glow. Brown eyes turned to see him, she tried to bite the smile down. Failed.

“So, what’s the deal with this party thing? A dance?”

“One of many in the city. Bunch of high schools will probably run drunk through the streets with everyone else. No one will get carded because no one cares on New Years. Dancing and whatever. Watch the ball drop, it’s just the feral thing to do that night.”

“And you could score with any girl, but you’re asking me. It won’t be like a date or anything.” Evie dropped the charm in her fingers to see Billy’s eyes linger.

“You mentioned that. I know how to get out and have a good time without fucking. I have all sorts of tricks.” He noted the word didn’t make her wince. “Not looking to break your seal.”

“You’re gross.” Again, no argument on the details of it.

“You’re too tightly wound.” He paused, whispering. “Maybe not, but you hide it.”

"Nothing to hide, I'm an open book."

"A never ending record," Billy pushed into her so their legs pressed flush, "not nervous around me though."

"Nope." Her lips popped, fingers curling into the hem of her dress when his arm snaked behind the couch. "Not nervous."

"Not running either." That realization seemed to hit them both.

"Why would I? I can handle you just fine." She hissed at that because it came out sexual. Billy licked his lips and snickered, shifting to face her head on.

"Oh, I like the sound of that." He'd murmured, inches from her face. Evie found herself wondering how he managed to weasel his way in this close. Wondered why she was drinking him back in. "Picture this. You and this perfume enjoying a couple free drinks and some fireworks in the city. No strings attached. Not a date. Just those exploding lights and that chilly wind cooling your cheeks down, because you'll be blushing and you won't know it."

"Uh huh. I guess I can see it." Evie sized him up and crossed her legs to lean back into him. "You and the roar of a Camaro commanding the city to its knees. Glam and hairspray working their magic."

"I love an audience, Angel." Billy shook his head and froze because her palm came to his knee. Bold move. "But, I don't mind the front seat to see you blush too."

"What about you?" She whispered with a hum. "What makes King Billy blush? Does all the noise you like to make hide it?" A spark flitted up her eyes. Made his chest heave. "Is that your secret?"

"Come to the party, I'll tell you all my secrets." Fingers grazed up her arm when soft digits gave a rhythmic tap against his thigh. Billy went for it. "Do this dance with me."

"You don't play as hard to get as you let on."

"Not when I want something bad. Better to just play harder." Lips parted to hit that word. Her brows lifted at such an admittance. "You're sizzling up a fuse, aren't you, Evie?" She shook her head with a lazy smile. Eyes finding his again after. Near sultry.

"You have to light a fuse first, Billy, for it to sizzle." Her hand crept along denim. Felt him go rigid and part his thighs just a little bit wider before she sat back. "And the fire's out anyway. I'll make good on the deal. If you win."

"I hope you have a dress picked." Billy scoffed, breathless and still intent on her while she looked ahead at the screen.

“Time is ticking. As if you taking me out will do me any good." Evie rolled her eyes and reclined back into his side. Quite comfortably like she wasn't thinking about it. "Give me cool points so Tommy and Carol leave me alone.”

“They’re assholes to everyone. It’s not you.” Billy replied dismissively. Curled his finger into her locks behind the sofa.

“You don’t notice who they target because you’re too busy chasing skirts and fighting others yourself. Also haven't seen the writing about me on the bathroom walls. School hierarchy rules. Open those pretty ocean eyes and see the world for what it is. You're untouched because of your front. Everyone wants to be Billy Hargrove or screw him.”

Evie looked at him there, blinking.

"What side of the line are you on?" He bit his lip. "I can guess."

She plucked his hand from her shoulder and placed it back into his lap. Patted it for good measure.

“So, you really think my eyes are pretty?” Billy laughed when a square pillow nailed him in the face. "You said it before too! When we were drunk and you still think it now that we're sober. Telling."

Tension shattered. Evie glittered right back at him, teeth flashing. Still chuckling, he tilted his head back to create the magical sound. Quieted.

“Fine. I’ll pay attention if it helps you sleep at night.”

Evie blew air out her lips, let a curl fly up and bounce down. They watched the screen again. Shared a space. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so intimate.

“Episode’s almost over. Thanks for playing.” She about sang. Triumphant.

“I guess you have me, Fenny.” Billy pushed up. “Mind if I take a leak?” He was already pacing off so she said nothing.

Just watched couples go hand in hand into the sunset.

There was a flush, the sink running, and then Billy’s huge smile crept back down the hallway. The boy was gone all of three minutes.

Bourbon in his arms. Purring. Perfectly happy. Evie’s jaw dropped open.

“Guess who crawled out of the shower to eyeball my junk? Not that I blame him.” Billy quipped, scratching the cat’s chin. Bourbon rubbed back into the touch. Rasped his scratchy meow for more.

“Traitor...” Evie muttered, coming to her feet. “Damn it.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re mine now, Evie. Seven o’clock. Wear something short if you like.” Billy’s lips were pressed up. Such an ass.

"I call foul." Her finger lifted.

"And I'll be calling on you. New Years Eve. Just an annoying dance. It'll be fun and free." His chin gestured at her. "Just say yes, Evie. Get out of this small town and see some lights for once. You want your name in them so bad, you gotta look at the damn things first. No day but today. Right?"

"Right," a lengthy sigh, "but, the fire's still out. Bourbon, why? First, mom and now you. He's just hypnotizing you both.” Evie took the cat from Billy, watched his face scrunch.

“Your cat is really named Bourbon?” He said flatter.

“I found him when we visited family in New Orleans. Bourbon street.” She let the feline nuzzle into her chest.

“God, Angel, I hope your lyrics are more creative than that.” Billy lightened, chest shaking as he peered away shaking his pretty head. “Well?”

She pouted and if that cat wasn't between them, Billy didn't know what he would have done. Another time or place. Another pretty dress. Another shared beat of bleeding together.

That itched him the rest of the night.

“I’ll go. Seven. I’ll dress nice. It’s not a date, so don’t try anything and get me home in one piece. I reserve the right to leave you if you act like too much of an ass.” Evie grumbled some about it, defeated.

But, she wondered about the lights and what it might be like to share them. Suppressed all urges that longed to hope.

“That much I can do, I might even keep my ass in check. Don’t flake, we have a deal. I’ll be your Mr. Darcy or whatever.” Billy made for the door, plucking up his jacket as she opened it.

“That’s an impossible standard, but keep dreaming.” Evie sighed out. Watched him turn to beam. Offered a pet to Bourbon. “Least you got his name right.”

“Quick learner, I get points. New Years Eve. Don’t make me chase you, Evie, because I will.” Billy stepped off the porch lighting a cigarette, idly waved behind him.

Game. Set. Match.

“I’m not gonna be nice about it.” She called.

“So, you’ll be your normal, cheery self with me. Great. Won't ask for anything else, we have a good thing going.” He turned to wink, curling a final smile. Evie stilled, petting her cat before sighing into the cold air. “See you then, Fenny.”

“Whatever you say, Hargrove.” She shut the door as he climbed his own porch. Looked at her cat.

“You did this to us, I hope you’re proud.”

Bourbon blinked. Another rumbling purr in response.

** ** **

“The world...” Evie plucked an idle cord. Sang soft to not disturb her mother down the hallway sleeping. Nestled into the wall on her bed next to the window. “May think I’m foolish. They can’t see you like I can...”

Darkness shrouded save for a small set of twinkling lights around her bed frame. Eyes kept averting to the clock.

“Oh, but anyone...who...”

Another pause to see the clock. Eyes flickered out along the street marked with lamps. Cracking her window to see out. Nothing. Evie settled. Changed the tune to something original and plucked another heart string.

“Those ocean eyes… Drowning me out. What I wouldn't give to...” Her palm caught the vibrating cord to snuff the sound. A groan as she set the guitar aside. “Shit.”

That was not happening.

A car went down the street at the exact moment the clock struck eleven. Evie grabbed her coat and locked her bedroom door. Checked her hair and makeup before hitching one leg over the window. Felt the naughty thrill pulse into her heart as she snuck out.

Billy peered to see beyond his own window near the foot of his bed. Unseen in the pitch black space. Thought about catching her. It was always a Saturday night. Evie Fenny crept out like clockwork. Wearing something nice under a jacket she held close. Sometimes with the guitar on her back. Lips painted red. Went down the street and returned as the sun rose. He’d observed it often. Sometimes it happened on school nights. Two to three times a week. Never asked because it didn’t seem important enough before. But, now…

Billy knew a teen girl didn’t paint her lips red at eleven o’clock on a Saturday for just anyone.

Evie hurried down the street toward the woods at the end. Got into a shiny car. Disappeared until sunrise.

~~~~~

Chat with me about Evie & Billy and the impending Skirt Safari Dance! Thanks!

TAGGED:@80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #writing #mine #SOMY #Billy x Angel #Angel Fenny

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ericsonclan · 4 years

Text

Wrapped Up in Anticipation

Summary: Violet opens her dorm door to find an excited Louis with presents to wrap.

Word Count: 2048

Read on A03:

A knock at Violet’s dorm room door had her quirking an eyebrow. Therissa wouldn’t be back until the wee hours of the morning since she’d gone to pull an all-nighter with a classmate. Who else could be visiting so late at night? Looking through the peephole, Violet rolled her eyes. She opened the door to find Louis there, wearing a Santa hat and smiling at her with his arms full of Christmas wrapping paper and a huge bag slung over his shoulder.

“Lou, what are you doing here? We said we’d meet up tomorrow to wrap gifts,”

“I know, I know, but I was picking up supplies and I found something and I just got so excited I had to bring it over tonight and figured why not go the whole nine yards?” Louis smiled brightly at his best friend before looking down meaningfully by his feet.

Violet’s gaze followed Louis’ down to the ground. A small gasp escaped her lips. There at Louis’ feet was a tiny live Christmas tree, no higher than his knee.

“Isn’t it amazing! I spotted it being sold in the parking lot with all the big Christmas trees and figured it’d be the perfect tree for you. You can have a real live tree this year!”

Violet would never admit it, but a lump welled up in her throat at the gift. Growing up in a trailer, she hadn’t come from a family with the funds to afford a real live tree let alone a full size artificial one. Truth be told, as she got older her parents had stopped putting up any sort of tree at all, not even the dusty old miniature one they used to place on the table. Her mom had been busy working multiple jobs and no longer had energy to decorate and her father was too focused on chasing the next bottle of whiskey to care. Violet used to have her grandma’s decorations and artificial tree to find solace in, but it had been almost a decade now since she’d been alive.

“Vi? Are you OK?” Louis’ voice carried concern with it.

Shit. Her emotion must be showing through after all. She didn’t want to talk about any of that stuff. It wasn’t like Louis knew and she wanted to keep it that way. That part of her life was in the past now. She was living independently, and she’d never be going back. Swallowing the lump, Violet cleared her throat and bent over to pick up the tree. “It’s cool. Let’s bring it inside quick. I think my RA said live trees aren’t allowed within the dorms,”

“Ooh, breaking the rules!” Louis whispered happily with a playful waggle of his eyebrows. Slipping inside Violet’s room, he closed the door behind him with a soft click. Walking forward, Louis dumped all the wrapping supplies in the center of the room. He glanced over at Violet who was placing the tree upon her desk. “Oh, we should probably put that in water so it doesn’t dry out. Do you have a bowl or something we could use?”

“I have one,” Violet went over to the bookshelf and grabbed a plain white bowl. “I’ll be right back,” With that she left to fill the bowl in the dorm bathroom. A few minutes later when she returned she found Louis had already spread out all of his gifts upon the floor and was attempting to calculate how much wrapping paper he’d need for the first one.

“You’re using way too much,” Violet noted dryly. Going over to her desk, she stood the tree up within the water bowl. “The wrapping paper’s gonna get all crinkly and shit,”

“It’s ok, I bought plenty. If I do this wrong, I’ll just try again,” Louis’ scissors glided as he cut a huge swath of wrapping paper before looking back over at Violet and the tree. His face fell slightly. “I should have run back inside and bought some ornaments for Lil Stumpy. He looks so bare,”

“You named my tree?” Violet plopped down on the floor, rooting out her own presents from under the bed.

“Poor little guy needed a name. He’s small of stature but big of heart,”

“Excuse you, Lil Stumpy is a lady,”

“Oh! My humblest apologies!” Louis bowed in mock solemnity before continuing with his wrapping. “I’ll be sure to drop by tomorrow with ornaments for the little lady,”

“Y’know, for someone who goes to a different college, you’re over here way too much,”

Louis shrugged. “What can I say? I like it here. You’re here, Marlon’s here, and everybody else around here seems cool too. Like those twins in your statistics class. That gift’s for Sophie, right? You said she’s the one who really likes food,”

Violet paused in her gift wrapping and nodded. “Good memory,” She’d gotten Sophie a DIY mochi ice cream kit. Ever since the twins and Violet had gone on a late-night ice cream run one late night, Sophie had been talking about mochi nonstop. Hopefully Sophie’s homemade mochi would turn out to her satisfaction. Violet glanced over at the box Louis had been trying unsuccessfully to wrap again and again. “That’s the bomb you ordered for Mitch?”

“Glitter bomb,” Louis corrected, recutting his wrapping paper to a smaller size. “I can’t wait to see the look on Mitch’s face when he gets a faceful of glitter! He’ll be getting the stuff out of his hair for weeks!” Louis chortled happily at the thought. “There’s a giftcard to St. John Steakhouse in there too. Hope he looks through the box before throwing it out,”

“You’d better give him a heads up on that after the glitter bomb,” Setting aside her first present, Violet moved onto her second, Minnie’s gift. It was a t-shirt with a heartbeat monitor line in the background while a guitar was in the foreground.

“Oooh, getting Minnie something with a heart on it I see,” Louis teased.

“Shut up,” Violet muttered, turning her face away from her friend. “It’s a heartbeat, not a heart,”

“Riiiight, totally different. Minnie seems nice though. I think if you asked her out she’d say yes,”

“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen,”

“Or maybe I should hint to Minnie that she should ask you out,”

“If you do, that, I swear I’ll steal your kneecaps in the middle of the night,”

“Ok, ok, message received! Yeesh!” Louis rolled his eyes as he pulled out a large package from his present bag that was already wrapped in dark blue tissue paper and tied with a silver bow. “Here’s your gift by the way. I wrapped it ahead of time so there’d be no chance of you spoiling your own gift this year,” It was a game they’d developed over the years: Louis hiding his present to Violet somewhere he thought she’d never find it and Violet inevitably sniffing it out.

A smirk crossed Violet’s face. “Oh, I already know what it is,”

“What?! How?”

“You left your laptop open beside me last time you were over here. I just pulled up your Amazon order history and scrolled down,”

“Well, you’re still not allowed to open it till Christmas!” Louis declared with a sullen pout.

“I won’t,” Violet took the present eagerly, lightly squishing it. Louis had outdone himself this year. He’d found a blanket with glow in the dark constellations printed all over both sides. Violet couldn’t wait to cuddle under it come Christmas morning. Pulling out a box from her own pile, Violet unceremoniously plopped one of the ribbons Louis had bought on the top of the packaging and handed it over. “Here’s your gift,”

“Wow, I love what you did with the packaging,” Louis replied drolly. Taking the small box in both hands, he shook it in curiosity.

“Hey, no shaking! You don’t get to guess what it is!”

“Oh, but you get to know what your present is ahead of time? I call shenanigans!”

“Just wait till Christmas, you big baby,” Violet glanced over at the box, hoping the present inside was still safe. She’d bought Louis a thumb piano. It had been a tossup on whether buying it for him would be worth the annoyance of him playing the thing everywhere, but Violet knew the smile on Louis’ face when he opened it would be worth it. Getting back into wrapping mode, she pulled out a thin black box that contained her next present.

“Is that one for Mitch?”

“Yup,” Violet wrapped it in the goofy reindeer wrapping paper Louis had bought. She knew that one would annoy Mitch the most.

“What is it?”

“A knife,”

“Bet you wanna keep it for yourself,” Louis knew her well. Violet was a sucker for a cool knife.

“Yeah, but there’s no weapons allowed on campus anyway, so,” Violet shrugged, making quick work of wrapping the gift. “Ready to wrap the big one?”

“You betcha!” Louis reached into his bag with glee, pulling out an entire miniature sled. The warm brown wood and painted metal detailing along the edges came together to form a truly charming sight. “You got your part of the gift?”

“Yep,” Violet plopped a red dog harness on top of the miniature sled. “I looked up pit bulls to make sure I got the right size,”

“Awesome. Marlon’s gonna lose his mind when he sees this!” Louis was practically beaming in excitement as he unrolled a huge swath of wrapping paper to begin the process.

Violet had to agree. Ever since Marlon got Rosie at the beginning of this year, the dog was all he ever talked about. Violet couldn’t blame him. Rosie was super cute and pretty much the sweetest dog she’d ever met. When she and Louis had been brainstorming gift ideas for this year, they knew they wanted to get Marlon something that would also be a gift for Rosie. Now he would be able to sit on his own miniature sled and have Rosie pull him around across the snow to her heart’s content. They were both gonna love it.

It was quite a tricky process getting such a large and unusually shaped present wrapped. In the end after several layers of wrapping paper and some truly haphazard usage of tape, they had a large, lumpy package to show for their labors. Both friends looked at it with pride.

“It’s perfect,” Louis stated, wiping a mock tear from his eye.

“That’s some fucking good wrapping if I do say so myself,” Violet smiled proudly at the mysterious blob. That was when her eyes caught the time. “Shit, it’s almost one? I have an 8 AM class tomorrow. You gotta go,”

“Awww, so soon?” Louis batted his lashes at Violet, giving his best sad puppy impression even though they both knew that was pointless.

“Yep. Scram. And take your shit with you,” Violet helped Louis pack all the wrapping paper and supplies as well as his gifts before escorting him to the door.

“Christmas hug?” Louis asked, turning around one last time.

“Fine, Christmas hug,”

“Yay!” Louis wrapped his arms round Violet happily, chuckling as he did so. “Ho ho ho!”

“…What the fuck was that?”

“A Santa laugh. Now it’s a genuine Christmas hug,”

“Whatever,” Violet mumbled though she knew Louis caught the small smile upon her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow to drop off the ornaments for Lil Stumpy then?”

“Sure. I’m done with classes at 2,”

“Then I shall see you then. Till next time!” With a happy wave Louis was gone, sneaking quietly down the hall as it was far past visiting hours.

Violet shook her head good naturedly before closing the door. What a goof. It was sweet how excited he got around Christmas though. And the early gift he had dropped off… Violet looked over at the tiny Christmas tree, her eyes misting up a bit at the sight. That was truly special. Walking over to her desk, Violet brushed her hands along the delicate pine needles tenderly. It was her first Christmas on her own and already it was better than any she’d had in a long, long time. “Merry Christmas, Violet,” she whispered softly to herself. A bit of Christmas magic had found its way to her after all.

#twdg #fanfic #twdg christmas #ericsonclanchristmaschallenge #twdg violet #twdg louis #louis violet brotp #ericson's diner au

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nlmorgan89 · 4 years

Text

Murderous Intent

Jeff is back from the Oort Cloud but something dark is looming on the horizon. A horror had descended on the island and no one is safe from it. Who will be the reason for it and what is the only thing that will keep them safe from the horror… READ ON TO FIND OUT! (Sorry nothing is better than reading an unknown ending.)

“GORDON!!!” Scott roared; Jeff had been home for month after living in the Oort Cloud for 8 long years before Gordon, the eternal clown of the Tracy family, had started pulling pranks once again. Wondering what his second youngest son had done this time, he had heard Brains mumbling something about paint just moments ago, he moved back from his desk fearing what is was involving and walked to the sleep quarters, Scott was hammering on the door trying to break it down in nothing but a towel, the poor boy was yellow, Gordon had somehow made the shower in Scott’s room work for paint and not water.

“Scott, before you dry or worse stain the floors go use my shower and get the paint off.” Jeff intervened, trying to keep a poker face so his son would not see him laugh. He saw the rage in Scott’s eyes but knew that once he had calmed down Gordon would be out of danger as Scott looked ready to murder him. He waited till he heard the shower start, then he knocked on Gordon’s door and waited, hearing no reply, thinking he was in bed still he opened the door and found a surprisingly clean room very much not what anyone expected from the young aquanaut, who lived like a slob, he went to the desk to ponder where his son would be, coming up blank he asked John if he had seen Gordon who aside from Scott and Brains was the only one who would be awake enough to think rationally without the use of coffee. “He should be on the island still, he pranked Scott, being a canary is not Scott’s idea of funny.”

“But funny for everyone else.” John laughed, EOS had shown him the scene outside Gordon’s room just moments ago, he did look like a canary, he had plan’s to alter the footage so he could give it to Scott to try to calm him down. “His watch is in his room?”

“He isn’t there. I already checked. Could you take a photo of his room too?” Jeff asked, John wondered why till he saw the state it was in. he was shocked, even when mum was around the only room that was like this was John’s. Something caught his eye on the bookshelf, and it made John explode.

“I am going to kill that Squid. He moved my stuff into his room!” John hissed, Virgil, who had been woken by Scott paled and walked backwards out of the room. John only ever hissed when he was truly mad.

“We will move your stuff back after we find Gordon.” Jeff said, he saw Virgil out of the corner of his eye and saw the frantic waving. ‘No … Gordon... You… Dead.’ What did Virgil mean by that suddenly he heard John hiss again, he was madder now and cancelled the call. Virgil raced to Johns portrait and slammed a hidden button. A shrill alarm went off and then the entire building seemed to shake with everyone running into the room. Jeff was wondering what was going on. Alan and Grandma came running in, Scott followed dripping water soap and shampoo everywhere, even Brains and Kayo were pale.

“I did not do it I swear, I don’t want to die again?” Alan squeaked, he was green now, and looked like he was about to either throw up or pass out.

“Not you, Gordon … and Dad.” Virgil explained, his voice was barely audible but at the same time it was loud because it was so quiet.

“What did I do? Gordon pranked him by moving all his stuff.” Jeff explained, he must have missed something in the 8 years he had been gone, John never got this reaction when he got mad before.

“Then you said that we would move it all back.” Virgil said, he was shaking like a leaf now. “We wait till the initial rage is over before we think about even offering to help.”

“I agree with Virgil son,” Sally said patting his arm. “I had only ever seen him this mad when he had gone into 5 soon after you disappeared, Gordon and Alan had snuck onboard and released stink bombs everywhere. Go somewhere, will message you when he gives up.”

“How bad could he be?” Jeff questioned.

“Gordon’s hydrofoil nightmare is like a puppies, kitten and rainbows kid’s dream compared to what he did. Does that answer your question?” Scott said coming over to Alan and picking up the kid, who was a whimpering mess, for a 19-year-old.

“Really?” Jeff queried, something seemed wrong here but their reaction where too genuine.

“Really, mum wasn’t kidding when she said that red head’s make the worst enemies to get flaming mad.” Scott said, he was shaking too.

“Where has Gordon gone then and why leave his watch behind?” Jeff asked, Kayo had suddenly clicked her fingers with the realisation that Gordon could only be in one place.

“He is in his deep-water cave under the island.” Kayo said, Brains ran to Gordon’s chute hit another hidden button and came out with a deep-water suit and tank. “Get changed and follow the map on the screen. We will tell you when it is safe.”

“Okay,” Jeff said, no one was laughing at this and he was starting to get scared but put the gear on and went in the water. It took Jeff almost 30 minutes to find his second youngest. “Gordon, why is everyone scared of John?”

“I don’t know, I just made my room a mirror image of his I didn’t touch anything I swear.” Gordon said, he helped his dad into the cave that was an air pocket, though it might be linked to the old cave system. Gordon had found it with Penny a few months ago. “I came down here to avoid Scott, not John.”

“He is mad because you touched his things.” Jeff explained, he was not really getting a straight answer from anyone. “I said that once we found you, we would put everything back the way it was before it was moved.”

“Was he hissing?” Gordon whispered, even in the dim light that Gordon and Jeff had he was pale.

“Yeah then he hissed after I spoke again.” Jeff stated, he was going to say more but Gordon was now rocking and holding his knees to his cheek, like he did when he had a nightmare about his accident. He thought that it was not going to last as long as it seemed to be, but what he did not know was that they were planning a party for him and that this entire fear of John was all an act. It had taken them all month to get the acting right, Alan was racing off to 3 to fly to Mars to pick up Lee Taylor and bring him to Earth for a long weekend, though the prank on Scott was unplanned. After what seemed like a few days in the dark they were finally contacted saying John was back in 5. “Finally think you can swim Gordo?”

“Think so.” Gordo whimpered, they soon had all their gear back on and was swimming to the surface. Once they arrived it was pitched black and moonless, every light was off, which seemed strange, but Jeff ignored it and was soon helping Gordon with his tanks which they were placing inside the hangar till tomorrow. They took the stairs and tried to not make a noise thinking that the others were now asleep.

“SURPRISE!!!!”

“What?” Jeff said, the minute they had entered the lounge the lights were turned on revealing everyone was gathered around, with streamers, hats and balloons everywhere. Jeff had completely forgot it was his birthday today.

“Happy birthday Jeff!” Lee called out to him. “Aaron and Sven came to pick me up for your birthday party.”

“I think it is official, we finally surprised Dad.” John said, Jeff was in shock especially when Gordon and John wrapped an arm around each other and fell back in the chair laughing. “Did you really think that I would be scarier than the hydrofoil accident?”

“Honestly no, but you were all so terrified and Gordon was almost catatonic down there I was having doubts. I was thinking John had actually murdered someone.” Jeff explained, Virgil and Alan were laughing too, they were tearing up with all the laughing. “How were you able to looks so terrified, you were never that good at acting.”

“Thank Gordon, for that he is the acting champion, and Grandma’s veg stew.” Alan explained, he looked green thinking of it. Everyone who had tried it grimaced too. Nothing good came from eating her food. “The only thing that wasn’t planned was the paint.”

“I had to think of a way for Dad to go into my room and want John to take a photo, I am never doing that again, way too many laundry loads and lifting of garbage.” Gordon winced; he arms were still killing him. Plus, Grandma had not helped by telling him she was not going to do any of his clothes. Maybe next time you will not leave your laundry in there for a month.

“Did we really surprise you Dad?” Scott asked, Jeff was now sitting down with his eyes closed, they could not read his face at all.

“You did, when did you plan this? It must have taken months?” Jeff enquired.

“The minute we found out you were alive. Scott thought of the party, Virgil knew who to invite, Grandma, Brains and Kayo oversaw the decorations, I oversaw the food.” Alan explained, then as he was about to grab a piece of cake John and Gordon stopped him. “Sorry, John and Gordon were in charge of the distraction and I also forgot you get the first slice Dad.”

“Thank you all for a wonderful surprise birthday, I wish that your mum could have seen this. She never could have pulled it off though she did try every year.” Jeff said he was smiling at all that they had done for him but privately he thought I will let them think that they tricked me Lucy, I don’t mind the present and they did go all out for trying to get me away so they could be ready. I am proud of them and I know you are too. Too bad the company that they ordered the telescope from called the house phone while they were away on a rescue to confirm the order was ready to be picked up. I just let it go to the answering machine. I am also the King of Acting too Grandma’s cooking was a godsend, poor Alan though.

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polarishq · 4 years

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Meet PANDORA WATANABE. They are THIRTY-SEVEN years old and hail from CARDIFF, WALES . Pandora embodies the WATER LILY nebula. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is HAYLEY KIYOKO.

Water Lily reminds me of incomplete crossword puzzles, vinyl dust jackets, do you double dog dare me?, dark academia but make it pink, bad posture, the broken spine of old books, no not all shades of black are the same, dog eared pages and margins filled with chicken scratch annotations, Welcome to the Black Parade’s opening G, vodka filled water bottles, and a carefully coordinated Instagram aesthetic.

BIOGRAPHY

The first time Pandora fell in love, she was four years old. Cross legged on the floor of her parent’s living room, she poured over an illustrated copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, using her budding knowledge of letters to try and sound out the words (spoiler alert: she didn’t get very far.) After listening to her try and struggle through the first page, her mother read the story to her and gave Pandora a beginner’s level reading book to try her own hand at. Her bookshelf expanded, yet she still insisted on being read Alice every night for years, until she’d somehow committed the words to memory, until she was able to sound out the words herself from sight and the illustrations started to fade from constant page turning. From there, she discovered hundreds of worlds and went on countless adventures, falling in love time and time again with a new character every week. Thank you, Alice.

The first time Pandora discovered her powers, she was nine years old. Her dad always loved cooking, and more importantly, he loved sharing that with his family. Yet he could never quite master one of his mother’s recipes, a favorite of his since childhood, no matter how much he followed the recipe. It was delicious nevertheless, and he taught it to Pandora the very first time she asked. The recipe card was more for show than anything else, the ingredients written in a beautiful cursive that was barely legible to Pandora’s untrained eyes. But all she had to do was pick it up and look at the ingredients laid out before them, and then she asked, “Grandma put paprika in it — shouldn’t we get that too?” Paprika wasn’t written on the card, but sure enough, a dash of it in the pan and it tasted just as her father remembered. When Pandora was questioned, she said she just knew when she picked up the recipe. The Water Lily nebula appeared on her lower back a few weeks later, looking like skin discoloration to the untrained eye.

The first time Pandora felt her heart break, she was twenty-three. For the most part, she’d only ever retained information from objects she touched. Sometimes it was a bit annoying, but other times it was wonderful. Her love of reading, for one, was certainly amplified when she could appreciate the history of each individual copy she owned. People had never bothered her, but then they did. Then, her father became sick, and none of the magic in the world could cure him. Maybe it was her lowered guard, maybe it was his. Pandora isn’t sure what triggered it. She just knows that when she went to hug him one day, a few weeks before he passed, she was assaulted with grief and fear that certainly wasn’t her own. All of her father’s worries about leaving the family hit her, topping off her already existing sadness over the inevitable. When Pandora went home and cried, she didn’t know if it was for her sake or her father’s.

That first time became a second, and a third, and a fourth; soon, Pandora refused to touch anyone else in her family — not if it meant feeling their grief in addition to hers. Yet her family had always been filled with hugs and kisses, pats on the back and high fives for no reason other than a reminder that they were here. How could Pandora explain her selfishness in not wanting to do any of those? Instead of trying, she turned inward and poured more of her time into reading. Words couldn’t hurt her. They gave her a chance to be someone else for a short spell. To be someone other than Pandora Watanabe — truly a dream. Even at the expense of the growing distance between her and her family.

To be someone other than Pandora Watanabe is to learn fearlessness. Sure, she’s a bit too careless, and yes she’ll do anything if it means getting an adrenaline rush. As much as she loves losing herself in her books, she’s never quite been able to taste the freedom that a main character has at their most pivotal moment. That was something she’d have to seek out all on her own.

The first time Pandora walked through Polaris’ halls, she was forty-three in human years, and had been wearing her gloves for close to two decades already. They weren’t perfect, but they gave her a barrier that held up more often than not. Truth be told, Polaris wasn’t meant to be her destination. By then though, she’d spent more of her life avoiding human touch than she’d spent comforted by it, and the damage between her and her family was irreparable. She’d tried to joke with her mother, “maybe its time I get an education”, and rather than declare that she would miss Pandora too much to see her go, her mother had said, “I think it is”. How could she have said it was a joke after that?

The thing is, Pandora wasn't to do better. Sure, she can hug someone if there si no skin to skin contact, and she can touch anything to her heart’s desire so long as she has her gloves. Sex is great, that’s no lie. Being able to experience your pleasure as well as another’s simultaneously? Mindblowing. But casual touch on a day to day setting isn’t a possibility. If she can get things under control and do better, maybe one day it will be.

INCLINATION

The Water Lily Nebula, while not the most terrifying sounding of celestial bodies, has always had a certain love for knowledge. Due to this, they gift their user with a skill in psychometry — knowledge through touch, rather they want to know them or not. Its strongest with inanimate objects, but this witch or wizard is also capable of learning details of living creature. In terms of sentient beings, rather than learning their history through touch, Water Lily may instead be hit with a mix of memories and emotions from throughout their lifespan. Regardless of if they’re living or not, processing so much at once can often lead to sensory overload for Water Lily, and until they are fully trained, they are not able to control when their touch is in effect.

CONNECTIONS

Filling the role of Luca Ghorbani’s Please Choke.

Better Half: ‘Best Friend’ might be the more commonplace term, but that doesn’t really capture it. This is the one person who has Pandora’s full trust, and the only one that she feels comfortable touching in any capacity outside of the bedroom. They don’t make sense on paper, with opposite interests and contrasting personalities, but Pandora truly does believe they bring out the best in her. Around them, she feels like she just might have a shot at becoming a better person.

Bang Buddy or Bust: The only time Pandora really allows someone to touch her is during sex, but even reaching that point is a climb. This person (female-identifying, because Pandora is a big ol’ lesbian) has become a recurring visitor to her bed, and is someone who Pandora can genuinely say is a friend outside of it. She knows that they enjoy the sex as much as she does, but anytime they mention anything beyond that, it’s an immediate block from Pandora. She can’t imagine having to be emotionally and physically vulnerable on the daily with anyone, though the trust may be close to getting there.

Penned by Jeanne ★

#taken.#student.#jeanne.#waterlily.#water.

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pynkhues · 5 years

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I’m new to the Brio fandom and just wanted to pop in and say how much I love your fics and all of your tumblr content!! It’s so fun to read especially in the off season. Can’t wait for more of your circumference/domestic Brio fic!

Welcome, anon! And thank you so much! You’re so sweet

And haha, I’ve had so many asks about the domestic Brio fic, so have the opening scene of Part 2 as a welcome-to-the-fandom present.

It’s a little long, so I’ve popped it under a cut. Hopefully the full thing will be up in the next day or so (it’s mega long, haha)

Lifting her ass off the chair in Rio’s office, Beth wriggles her cell phone one-handed out of the back pocket of her jeans. She’s still chewing on her lunch as she plants herself back down and opens up the Pinterest app, scrolling with her thumb until she lands on the jungle-printed wallpaper she’d saved the night before, holding it out across the desk towards Rio.

“So, this is what I’m thinking for Danny’s room,” she says, and when he doesn’t take her phone immediately, she waves it a little at him, coaxing.

She’s not sure if this has surprised him over the last few days – not sure if she’s able to truly surprise him anymore at all (honestly though, he seems to think she’s capable of anything these days, which he uses to praise her or provoke her, depending on his mood) – but since they’d told the kids the other night, Beth has slipped down a rabbit hole of decorating. Between packing and organising and researching the schools in their new district, to say nothing of work, she’s made a habit of collecting catalogues and ducking into outlet stores and scrolling through the sale sections of the Target and Cloud 9 websites, fitting their new home together in her head.

And maybe it hasn’t surprised him, but the urgency with which Beth has felt the need for it has certainly surprised her.

Because it wasn’t really in the telling of the kids exactly, not in the way Kenny had reacted, or the way Rio had called her his - - and god, she can still barely say it without turning eight shades of red. It was in the next day. It was in taking the kids to show them the house. Because they’d been - -

They’d been shy.

Gone was the confidence of the dinner table, the chatter and the seeming complete indifference to where they lived and who they lived with. They’d walked up their new front steps to the big empty house, and Danny had latched himself onto her leg as Jane had torn up the hallway. Emma moving so slowly she’d often seemed to barely be moving at all, her eyes wide and her lips parted, taking in every curve of ceiling and every vacant room with a tentativeness that Beth had never seen in her before.

It had been enough to make Beth search out Rio, but he’d been chatting too easily to Kenny, Marcus giggling over his shoulder as he’d given them their own personal tour of the place.

And just - - it’s the first time they’ve done this, she’d reminded herself, trying to coax Danny off her leg by walking him to the new family room and showing him where they’d keep his boardgames. The first time their idea of home has been forced to change, because even staying with Dean still just feels like visiting grandma, and Beth doesn’t know how she could’ve overlooked this, couldn’t have better prepared them for it, the guilt growing like a weed in her gut.

But she could fix it, she’d thought then, still thinks now. She could make it feel like home. Make it feel more like home than even their old one. She could do that for them.

“I’m thinking like, a dinosaur theme,” she says now, when Rio finally drops his wrap, wiping his hands on a napkin before grabbing her phone from her grip. “We can use this wallpaper as a feature, and then paint the rest of the walls green. I found these lamps at that outlet off Green Street the other day too where they have these cut-outs of like a - - what do you call them? The dinosaurs with like the - -” Beth gestures to the back of her head. “Like the bone there? It kind of looks like they’re wearing sad party hats? Para-something? Cut-outs of those guys anyway, and the lamp is on a little motor so it looks like the dinosaurs are moving around when you turn it on.”

She’s still building the room in her head – the duvet cover she’d found online, the rug from Ikea that Ruby had torn out of a catalogue for her, when she looks up to see Rio, his eyes still on her phone, his forehead furrowed and his lips parted as he shakes his head back at it. She squints a little at the expression, sitting up a little straighter.

“What?”

“Themes are for birthday parties, they ain’t for bedrooms,” he says, sliding her phone back across the desk towards her, and Beth blinks, half-scoffing, half-laughing.

“Themes are for - -” she flails a little, trying to think of a time themes don’t make things better, and finds she can’t think of one, so she settles on: “Everything.”

He arches an eyebrow at her at that, picking the wrap up off his plate again, adjusting the paper down and taking an enormous bite before he even graces her with a response. She’d picked them up for lunch from the deli he pretends he isn’t obsessed with on her way over from the dealership, some tiny hole in the wall that, to be fair, makes really good wraps (and sandwiches, but he still turns up his nose at those).

“Yeah? You wanna be stripin’ wallpaper for every new phase?” he says after he’s finished chewing. “What happens when he likes space instead o’ dinosaurs? When Emma likes horses more than ballet?”

“She already likes horses more than ballet,” she tells him, rolling her eyes, but neglects to mention the unicorn cushions she’s already bought for Emma’s room. “Besides, I seem to recall an awful lot of robots in Marcus’ room.”

“Yeah, figurines and shit,” Rio insists. “Which can go to his cousins or Goodwill when he’s done with ‘em. You think your sister’s kid’s gonna want a box o’ his lil’ cousin’s stripped wallpaper? You think any thrift store will? You’re spendin’ too much money on shit with an expiration date.”

Beth rolls her eyes, pulling the artichoke hearts out of her wrap (she really does hate them) and Rio holds his hand out expectantly, waiting for Beth to drop them in his hand. She does, and Rio makes a far-too-pleased sound as he pushes them down into his own wrap, down around the arugula, Spanish onion and the chorizo, his fingers coming out of it wet with aioli, and her face bursts into flames when he sucks them into his mouth, too focused on his lunch to notice her. Willing the red out of her face, and the sinking heat in her back up, Beth clears her throat, distracting herself by asking:

“What do you want to do with their rooms then?”

And he just shrugs.

“Keep it simple.”

It’s enough to make her snort, dropping her own wrap to gesture around his office with both hands.

“Oh, like this?”

And okay, so that’s not exactly fair. It’s not like his apartment isn’t incredibly nice, and he’d told her when he moved into this office that it was only for a couple of months (she’d discovered that his tendency to pick up and leave had extended to his offices, something that probably shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it had), and that he was here so little that there wasn’t much point in setting it up beyond his basic needs – a (very nice) desk, a couple of chairs, a powerboard, a low-slung bookshelf housing thick binders and a few archival boxes. The only real décor touch is the peace lily beside his desk which Beth had laughed at the irony of the first time she’d seen it.

Rio just replies with a look, finishing off his lunch in two more bites. His silence makes her shift a little in her seat, bite the inside of her cheek, her ears pricking instead at the sound of the warehouse outside – the steady flow of people, the clothes dryers whirring, the slicing of the counterfeit cash. Vaguely, she can hear footsteps, but thinks little of it.

“Hey, so, speaking of the kids,” she starts, and Rio eyes her warily, picking up the note of uncertainty in her tone, and god, she’s not sure why she is. She’s been thinking about this since they took the kids to the house after all. “I think maybe - - “

She’s interrupted by a knock on the door, spinning in her seat to look as Rio scrunches up the paper from his lunch and tosses it into the trash can by the bookshelf. The lack of response from either of them is enough for the door to open, and Demon to stand in the doorway. A look of slight surprise passes his face at seeing Beth there, and that’s enough to make Beth eye him more carefully. It’s not like Demon doesn’t know about them, hasn’t even made it pretty clear that he likes her as much as she’s surprised to have found that she likes him, that he approves, which can only mean that that look is because he’s bringing news he knows Beth won’t like.

His gaze finds Rio’s over Beth’s head, and she follows it back to see Rio tilt his chin up, telling him to go ahead.

“Cal’s booked,” Demon tells him after a split-second hesitation, and Rio nods, seemingly pleased, and dismisses Demon with a flick of his wrist, leaving Rio and Beth alone again.

The door has barely clicked shut when Beth turns her full attention back on Rio, squinting a little at him as he grabs his phone out of his jacket pocket and works his thumbs across the screen, typing out a text or an email. When he doesn’t choose to fill her in (shocking), Beth bites her tongue and asks:

“Who’s Cal?”

“Contractor,” Rio says, not even looking up at her, and Beth huffs out an annoyed breath.

“What’s he been contracted for?”

“Security,” he tells her, and that’s enough to make Beth frown, remembering the bruises on his knuckles when he’d come over to hers those few weeks ago, when they’d talked about money, before they’d found their house – that guarded, guarding look he’d had in his eye, the way he’d held himself. Something in her chest tightens.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, careful to keep the worry out of her voice, but she thinks he must hear it anyway with the way he looks up at her, his face deliberately relaxed in a way she knows he intends to put her at ease. He nods.

“It ain’t nothin’ you gotta worry about, yeah? Just precautionary.”

Beth bites the inside of her cheek, not quite happy with the answer, before she leans back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest, the last of her lunch forgotten.

“The kids,” she starts again, hoping the distraction might be enough to loosen her up, and Rio grins, amused at her transition. “I think we should spend some time with each other’s. Alone.”

It’s been on her mind even more than decorating the house has been – the seed planted by Kenny’s own uncertainty and then sprouted the next day at the house. Her own kids’ tentativeness had been hard, but she’d found herself tentative too at Marcus’ seeming confidence and independence – used to being uprooted with his father, she supposes, and the feeling that that unlocks in her feels best ignored for now – but how quickly he’d let her own kids overwhelm him. Beth had promptly realised that she didn’t know enough about Marcus to know if he’d needed rescuing from Jane’s boundless energy or encouragement to meet it – something that hadn’t been helped when Rio had spent the better part of half an hour on a tersely voiced phone call in the yard.

“What do you have in mind?” Rio asks, dropping his phone to the desk and leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms and mirroring her pose.

“I have to be out of my house on Saturday,” Beth says, and god, it’s Wednesday now, and there’s still so much to - - no, not the time. “And Dean’s picking the kids up for the two weeks on Friday afternoon, before they come back to m - - us at the new place. I was thinking maybe tomorrow you could take them to the movies. So they can get a bit more familiar with you before they’re living with you. They really want to see that new movie about the dogs.”

It had been the thing that had made the most sense to her. The thought of inflicting the four of them on Rio alone without strict parameters and at least three of them docile feeling a little too cruel for somebody with only one, perfectly behaved kid.

“The movies?” Rio replies, wrinkling his nose slightly, and Beth blinks, forehead furrowing in confusion.

“What’s that face for?”

“Don’t they spend enough time in front of screens?”

And both her eyebrows shoot up at that, something defensive growing in her belly, because that almost sounds like a parenting criticism, and she lets her eyes drift across Rio’s face, checking for a joke in his face, and when she finds none, casts her eyes down to his phone, lighting up on his desk, and then his laptop. He smirks a little at that, shrugging as if to say touche.

“Would you prefer something else?” she replies after a minute, her tone dry, and Rio rocks his head back and forwards, tilting his head down to look questioningly at the last of her lunch, and she pushes her plate towards him.

“I’ll think o’ somethin’,” he says, picking up wrap and taking a bite. “Pick ‘em up around 3?”

And whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. She blinks, her irritation dissipating as she finds herself nodding.

“That sounds good.”

“Cool.”

“And Marcus?”

“He ain’t goin’ to his mom’s until Sunday night,” Rio says, and right, Beth thinks, sitting up a little straighter. They hadn’t talked about this – about the fact that Beth is staying at his in the week-long interim between handing her keys over to the new owners, and picking up their new ones. And of course Marcus could’ve been there too, it just - - hadn’t occurred to her.

“I got some business Sunday mornin’ anyway,” he says, and Beth grins at the implication, something satisfying about a plan being locked in settling warm in her belly.

“Sunday morning,” she echoes, and Rio meets her grin.

#beth x rio #nbc good girls #my fic #the center and circumference #welcome to my ama

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speckeh · 6 years

Text

My 2019 Garbage Book Dump

It’s 2019! I’m tired, I’m hella gay, and I’m still reading books as much as I can with my busy life! Enjoy this book list with reviews!

1. Thunderball: 5/5 stars. Mormon jokes. Making fun of dietary changes? A young Italian woman (girl) who controls the island with her beauty. It becomes a mission against nuclear threats against the Europe and the US? Not exactly the MOST thrilling James Bond book, but I had a lot of fun reading it. I’m glad this was my first read of the year!

2. The Lydia Steptoe Stories - Faber Stories: 4/5 stars. I found these short, tiny books in a local bookstore. There were 6 of them on the table and I bought three. Sometimes I wish I bought all of them, but not all of them spoke to me. The Lydia collection was interesting as it held three stories with: a young man being “seduced” by his aunt, a young girl wanting to be a dominatrix, and a woman who wishes she could be youthful again. While I didn’t find the stories awe-inspiring, I did find them extremely entertaining and nice to think about.

3. Emma Cozy Classics: 5/5 stars. I have the pride and prejudice one. While it might not be as fabulous as a full book, but the pain-staking skill of felt art is entirely impressive. It went on my Jane Austen book shelf.

4. Come Rain or Shine - Faber Stories: 3/5 stars. What would you do if your friends thought you were absolutely insane and their lives are falling apart worse than yours? What would you do if your friend asks you to play absolutely stupid to his wife to make him look better and for her to realize her life isn’t so bad that she got lucky enough to not marry you? I for one, would drop these fucking friends and never look back. The story was a fucking train wreck and absolutely insane to the point where it wasn’t even humorous to me. Several authors state it’s Ishiguro’s step into comical writing and I wish he wouldn’t.

5. Passionate Minds - Women Rewriting the World: 1/5 stars. I found this book at my Uni’s free bookshelf. I was super excited to read this book but it’s one of the dullest and full of biases book I’ve had the displeasure of picking up. I got to read about my girl Gertrude Stein but I was expecting more female writers, not actors who the writer obvious gets off on. There’s nothing wrong with that, and this book has rave reviews, I just couldn’t stand the writing style and obvious fawning she had (and not in the academic/historically reserved way authors should be).

6. Wandering Island Vol. 2: 4/5 stars. It’s been two years since the first volume came out. I found myself reading it in record time which has me both disappointed and a bit confused (not because I read it fast, but because of the strange editorial ending). The art is impeccable with a few questionable “obviously a man drew this” moment, the story has kind of been a bit muddled up and didn’t necessarily go anywhere this volume. It felt more of a build up for Volume 3 which I don’t know when will be released. The editor wrote this strange 6 page essay that started off they were going to postpone Wandering Island 3, then went on a long rant about how the manga editing world has changed with ^-^ faces all throughout, only to then write fan theories of where they think the story is going to finish with: “We’ll translate the pages as soon as they come out! ^-^” what the fuck?? Haha

7. Fun Home - A Family Tragicomic. 5/5 stars. I bought this book today and I finished it this evening. I’m still processing everything that happened but one thing I know for sure is that I found one of my top 5 books of 2019 as well as a new favorite already. Alison approaches a hard topic of coming out, learning about her father’s secret life of being bisexual, and coming to terms with the strange person with anger issues that was her father. While my father wasn’t gay, there were several elements of her father I saw in my own. The volatile anger, learning more about his life after his death, hearing shattering truths from your mom, the regret of not having conversations sooner and him not seeing who you truly are before their passing. It struck a chord with me and I’m going to be thinking about this comic book I feel like for two months.

8. The Real McCoy: 4/5 stars. This is like a small wikipedia pamphlet book about the famous names, phrases, or lyrics you might know. I wasn’t necessarily impressed with the booklet, but I found some of it entertaining. I gave it a high rating because it served its purpose but I’m totally gifting it to a friend who loves random facts.

9. The Heart Affirming: 5/5 Stars. Epic poems about the Greek Gods, the universal feeling of appreciating nature, the wondering of the cruelty of humanity. This is a rare find of a poetry book not popular and one I found at my local library book sale that was signed by the author. If you have the pleasure to pick up this 1939 poetry book, please do! It’s a treat from the past that shows we still yearn for the same poetic romanticism we did then to now.

10. Bloom: 4.5/5 stars. I’ve realized I’m going to graduate college in the fall and this weird depression hit where I realized my life is really finally going to change forever. So I’m having a mixture of senioritis where I don’t want to do any work when I’m done with school by Wednesday, and I’m having a mid-century life crisis where I don’t know what to do with my life (I mean I do, but it’s terrifying). So I went on a LGTBQ+ splurge on amazon, something i haven’t done in awhile, Bloom was one of those books. Bloom is a fast paced comic about a high school graduate who wants to move out and move on, but his friends are dicks and his parents want him to stay. Welcome the new hot boy whose grandma just died and conveniently loves to bake. Ari wants to leave the bakery and this new hot guy is just his ticket to leave, or is it? I really liked this comic for the art and the story line was refreshing. But there were several instances where the book moves really quickly and the development was… meh. HeartStopper has great, slow pacing that lets you feel like the characters and story moves in a believable way. Bloom is rushed in some parts, but still.. So cute.

11. Spinning: 5/5 Stars. 2/4 of the LGTBQ+ books I ordered have been read! I read this book the day before valentine’s day and I’ve already been in a weird mode/crisis of being a university senior. I, loved this book for all the reasons why people gave it 3 stars. Everyone stated the story didn’t wrap up, that i jumped, that it felt fragments, but if you read the very end the author state not all books should make sense or follow a timeline or be accurate and these followed her own recollection without revisiting anything. I really appreciated and I loved the style. It’s a heavy book with sexual assault, manipulation, child abuse, and a very unhappy protagonist who isn’t likeable. But at the same time, finishing this book I just felt such grief that I didn’t pursue an art career. That I didn’t just join an art program or give my art career a chance. I think when I’m in the end of my career, retirement, I may go to art school again or maybe I’ll splurge money on lessons or maybe I’ll just accept my art as is. Either way, this book made me fiercely jealous of a 21 year old. It reminded me of a famous story of my dad reading a book about astronauts and crying in the bath because he should have been an astronaut, and how this book made me want to cry because in some form I should have been an artist. But like my dad, we’ve both chased careers that really inspired and gave us amazing opportunities. But I think it’s natural to miss over those childhood passions you didn’t follow through with because you felt like you weren’t enough.

12. My Solo Exchange Diary Vol 2. 2.5/5 stars. I read the first volume last year due to prompting from one of my precious friends (Ramona). My loneliness with Lesbianism was AMAZING. I bought it. My Solo Exchange Diary felt like the author was rambling in circles, completely mentally unwell, and had no ideas of how to properly take care of herself. In Volume 2 she was able to search for some help and she was able to deal with some introspective thoughts about how her viewpoint might have been wrong and how she was toxic to herself and her family. Volume 2 still left a taste in my mouth that felt… weird? She’s moving in the right directions but I think she’s desperately trying to follow the hype of her lesbian hit manga and she’s failing due to her wants to surpass herself. I laughed and felt bad as she mentioned how people slammed her for Volume 1, so it felt very meta to read how she reacted because my comment was also criticizing her: read here. But if you’re reading it in a bookstore or a library, do it. It’s nice to see how she’s slowly making progress with herself.

13. Sputnik Sweetheart. 1/5 stars. I picked this up in Brussels in the select few english section because the cover was intriguing and the back cover claimed it was a lesbian story. I was so excited, and imagine my absolutely hatred when I realized a straight cisgender man had written a “lesbian” story through the eyes of a straight male who is lusting after his lesbian best friend. He proclaims he gets boners at looking at her breasts and how her eccentric style only makes her that more beautiful just to him. I hate everything about this book. I wish straight cisgendered men would leave lesbian narrative stories alone unless you’re going to write them right. Get the fuck out of my books.

14. Fortunate Beasts: Letters to Lucardo Vol 2: 5/5 stars. The long waited and anticipated sequel to Letters to Lucardo!!! It’s been two years since I read the first volume, supported it on kickstarters, and I’m going to keep funding each release until the quadiology is complete! This had a lot less background building, exciting sex scenes, but you now understand the two lovers and get to see them develop their budding relationship. While it wasn’t as smut riddled as I expected, I was very happy with the continuation!

15. The little Lame Prince: 2/5 stars. DNF. Did not finish in case for those who don’t know/can’t remember (I hardly remember what DNF stands for myself). I’m torn as I want to eventually finish this book but I’m just not in the mood for it. It’s a sweet story but is very slow and from what I can tell, repeats itself a lot. It’s a old book from the early 1800s which explains the somewhat hard language and problematic moments, but it’s still charming. I’ll debate when I’ll try this again. For now, it’s returning to my shelves with a bookmark in the pages.

16. Shounen Houkokusho. 5/5 stars. A shounen-ai soft, wholesome gay family about a little boy standing up for his dad’s long time partner and asking them to get married. Very sweet. So precious. I love.

17. Same Difference and Other Stories: 4/5 stars. This was a reread from my friend Mark who gifted this to me back in december of 2014. It’s been 5 years since I picked up this book and I decided to see how its changed. As an adult, this comic speaks to me a lot louder than it did nearly half a decade ago. Struggling to find your way through life, seeing all your high school “friends” getting married, having jobs, meanwhile you’re just.. Here. Definitely a story I needed to revisit again in the future and also I still appreciate Mark’s notes he left in here for me!

18. Amazing Women: 101 Lives to Inspire you: 4/5 stars. This was my gift after finally being cut loose from the cancer clinic. I never had to go back there again and so I decided to pick up a momento. This was the book I chose that they offered. I really appreciate how they cover diverse women from all over the world rather than American-centric. They don’t go further than 1826, keping mostly within 200 years which is a bit of a bummer. There were also some choices I felt were questionable, like Zoe Sugg (who had her book ghost written and scams her viewers) and that they didn’t have Alison Bechendel was a huge disappointment. But this book is opinionated as they did have to narrow it down to 101 women, so I’m never going to be happy unless I pick my own. I also appreciated that if a diplomat was assassinated they mentioned it in the book.

19. The Epic of Gilgamesh: 5/5 stars. I learned about the Epic of Gilgamesh back when I was a itty-bitty sophomore in high school. I remember being so intrigued and would draw my gay ass characters as the Harlot and Endurk. I think I still have the drawings somewhere and they’re cringey. I bought the book and it’s been sitting on my shelf for YEARS. I did a deep clean of my bookshelves last night from 11:30 pm - 4:30 am, and this morning I just wanted to read since I haven’t been able to for months. I loved it! I love creation myths, old myths from “lost” cultures, plus the language was hella gay in this story. It’s a short 61 pages, so if you have like an hour or two and are in the mood for some myths baby, pick it up!

20. The Making of Pride and Prejudice: 4/5 stars. This book is chalked full of interviews from staff, actors, photos of the sets, and a bit too long section on the director and writers moaning about a script. I loved the photos of the behind the scenes and reading Colin Firth’s reluctancy to take, arguably, his most iconic role because he didn’t care for classical movies. Thought they were boring. Really a cool book to have if you’re a big Pride and Prejudice 1995 fan.

21. Greek Myths: 2/5 stars. I love the artwork in this book, but the author shows a lack of research when he writes the Roman names for the greek gods. I’m all fine with showing a Roman cultural story, but if you’re writing a Greek Myths story, BITCH use the Greek names!!! If it wasn’t for the artwork, this book would be traaash.

22. Wicked: 5/5 stars. I’ve been in a reading rut for almost a month where I’ve felt unmotivated to do anything. Since going back to brief counseling and getting my head on straight again, I’ve felt the motivation to read. I’m also doing the 2019 OWLS for a Wandmaker and this was one of my assignments. I absolutely loved Wicked. The musical came in last month and it reinvigorated my love for the show. I’ve been wanting to read the book, it’s been haunting me for awhile and I found a back of the Wicked series for 5 dollars at my library sale. Snatched that bitch up. I read this 408 pages in two weeks, probably would have in a week but school. God, I related so much to Elphaba. Not so much the whole, feeling like she has no soul, but taking school seriously and not making friends, coming from a religious family and rebelling, feeling like she’s responsible for her whole family, (not feeling like she’s attractive) and seeing her growth and becoming more comfortable with herself really made me feel better about myself? It’s a super dark book, but it’s great. It’s really great.

23. A Children’s Guide to the Night Sky: 4/5 stars. This was essentially the condensed and easier version of my Stars and Cosmology course I took two years ago!! I sped read this and some of the greek myths they described were dumb down/removed the queerness of it. Which is why I took off a whole star.

24. The Life-Changing Manga of Tidying Up: 5/5 stars. Hello Marie Kondo. Everyone is on a cleaning kick/obsessed with Marie Kondo. I liked this comic because it was short and also made her book in a bite size, story drive style. I liked its simplistic form!

25. Julian is a Mermaid: 5/5 stars. I’ve had my eye on this book for a year, ever since it was announced in Goodreads’ monthly list. I found the last copy and snatched it up. I like the muted colors, the art style, the different bodies, and letting little boys know it’s ok to dress up as mermaids or anything feminized. A great message!!!

26. Kiss Number 8: 5/5 stars. This is one of those random comics I saw in the new releases and the cover caught my eye. I read the first few pages and decided to buy it. I loved it as it’s a coming out story but the main story isn’t revolved around coming out. It’s about the complicated nature of family, coming out through the years, and trans themes. I know some people say this book and the characters are transphobic due to misgendering and dead names used, but the main character is catholic. Her family are mega catholic. She’s going to a catholic school. Of course there’s going to be misgendering and dead names used! It’s how people naturally react to news. If you’re super sensitive, I wouldn’t read this book, but I loved it to bits. I held it to my chest like I do rarely with those books that give you the warm feels.

27. Elephi - The Cat with the High IQ: 5/5 stars. This was a book I grabbed at a close down sale. It’s about Elephi who sees a small fiat car abandoned in the snow outside and decides to use his brains to get the car inside the fifth story apartment. The author really knows how cats act and I felt like all the mannerisms were perfect for a year old cat(kitten). Really a cute book that I read in 40 minutes??

28. One Happy Tiger: 4/5 stars. A book about a tiger counting friends. Cute. It’s a children’s book. Not too substantial in anything.

29. The Language of Thorns: 5/5 stars. Ok WOW. I bought this about a year ago during B&N’s signed deals where they just had a ton of books signed by the authors. I’ve seen this book floating around on BookTube for awhile and I decided to check it out at the bookstore. The illustrations sold me and I bought it. Imagine the already dark Grimm’s fairy tales, but darker. More context for the characters: Ursula, the Nutcracker, Hansel and Gretel but if Gretel was the only one at home. Really amazing stories and if you’re interested in dark, pretty illustrations that change with each page, pick it up!

30. Satoko and Nada vol 1: 5/5 stars. Ramona and I went to B&N yesterday, just sitting around like two useless gays reading a bunch of manga. This is one she picked out and told me to read it. You know me, as a white academic I am constantly on the lookout for narratives that aren’t white and can educate me. This was one of them! Satoko is from Japan while Nada is from Saudi Arabia, both are exchange students in the US. Their friendship, learning about each other’s cultures is so fucking cute. ;0;

31: I Hear the Sunspot vol 1: 4/5 stars. I docked this down from a 5 star rating because it just jumps into a established plot. I had no idea if this was a continuation from another series or if the author purposefully just threw us in the mix of an established gay relationship but they’re not really (they are but they’re confused) with some flashbacks that looks like it came from another volume? But despite those factors, the art is gorgeous. The characters are well developed and have complex background and stories to tell (one of the main characters has a degenerative hearing issue and will eventually become deaf).

32. Building Writing Center Assessments that Matter: 4/5 stars. This was a required text I had for a independent study I was a part of where I created a assessment of the climate of where I worked. This is a great resource in learning how to build assessments from scratch, and if you’ve never conducted one. I found the information they gave was limited to assessment of students who use the a writing center, while my assessment was more focused on how safe, valued, and heard those who currently work in the space feel. A great way to step into assessments!

33. Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom: 4/5 stars. This was the first fictionalized piece of Slyvia Plath I’ve read. I can understand why it wasn’t published at first. There’s a lot of loose ends. Why was Mary going to the Ninth Kingdom? Why is everyone so placant in going to a “hell” type place? Also what the hell was the ending and her running away? This story left a lot to be answered, but I also love that about this short story.

34. Momo to Manji Vol 2: 5/5 stars. Volume two of one of my favorite historical yaoi mangas. It’s still hasn’t been fully translated just yet but I love it all the same!! So many complex characters, relationships!

35. Sweet Blue Flowers Vol 1. 5/5 stars. The first edition of a 5 volume series. Ramona told me to read this and I devoured the first book! Wholesome young girls falling in love with each other! Boyish girls who are heartthrobs! Unrequited love galore! Definitely going to check out the rest of the volumes!

36. Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me: 5/5 stars. Man. This comic took me through a roller coaster of feelings. First it kind of made me miss the constant interactions I had with people in junior high and high school. It also reminded me heavily of my first gf and I wondered if she and her friends viewed me as Laura Dean (in terms of being too cool. I never cheated lmao. And always just out of reach). It made me melancholy for a younger me who was also hopeless in love with their best friend. It was a wild ride, but one I recommend wholeheartedly!

37. Lovable Lyle: 5/5 stars. I’ve been looking at this little crocodile for awhile and I’ve come to the conclusion he is me. This book was silly but heartwarming as Lyle is beloved but suddenly receives letters from his sworn enemy. They try to ignore it, but they are persistent until they catch the culprit. Fucking ridiculous story but I loved every second.

38. The Great American Pin-Up: 5/5 stars. It was really cool how they sectioned off each famous artist of pin-ups. Some of them were tasteful nudes, semi-nudes, or lingerie teasing moments. As someone who is both gay and used to draw pin-up girls, this is a great reference!!!!

39. Drawing the R.A.F.: 5/5 stars. This book is one of those rarer finds. A british artist was commissioned to draw the officers of the R.A.F. in the middle of World War II. Some portraits are far better than others, but the worser ones are attached with amazing stories. Such as a 6”6’ pilot having to be physically shoved in a spitfire. These are fantastic and the art work is really beautiful.

40. Where’s Will? 4/5 stars. Where’s Will is a William Shakespeare version of Where’s Waldo. The art is beautiful and the hidden characters are extremely clever. However, I remember so often spending hours upon hours trying to find Waldo and the extreme satisfaction of finally finding him. Where’s Will I could find him within 5 minutes. It never went long enough to the point I feel worn and frustrated and finding several more interesting characters. He stood out more than he should and I flew through this book that Waldo would find insulting! But the illustrations are beautiful!

41. Carr’s Pocket Books - Florence Nightingale: 4/5 stars. This mini collection of Nightingale’s journals throughout her life is really interesting. As a woman who revolutionized what it meant to be a nurse and nurse practices, it was nice to see her own words from age 9 to 90. She was an elegant little girl with her writing and she showed wisdom beyond her years. Did I learn anything substantial about her work? No. But I did come to know her on a far more personal level that I appreciate.

42. Carr’s Pocket Books - How Horatius Kept the Bridge: 5/5 stars. Another one of these small pocket sized books I bought in Oundle, England. I don’t know why, but I’ve just been desperate to go through my books and get rid of any and all that don’t speak to me anymore. I also just want to read, a lot. This was part of my kick this week, trying to get through as many as possible. This poem story is about Roman soldier Horatius and how he single handedly took the Bridge against the Greeks. It’s a military triumphant, silly, and mystical, but I really enjoyed the structure of it. It was short and sweet.

43. Echoland: 3.5/5 stars. Echoland follows Arvid, a 12 year old Norwegian boy who visits his grandparents in Denmark for the summer. However, he’s growing up and he’s realizing that his parents are strained for some reason, his sister is too grown for him, and his grandparents are getting older. This book was confusing. It was short, quick, and I think younger children would enjoy this book more than me. It deals with more adult themes but through the eyes of a 12 year old. However, I found a lot of the storyline to be confusing: Why does Arvid not want to be touched? Why are his parents fighting?? Why does he hate all the men in his family? Why is he pushing everyone away? Why are his parents putting up with his attitude? There are a LOT of questions I have and there’s no real answer to be found. Maybe it’s the author’s style, but I found the story to be not as believable, but still enjoyable.

44. Mathilda. 2.5/5 stars. Mathilda was an audiobook I listened to as I suddenly got a migraine at around 6 pm and it didn’t let up until around midnight. The last three hours I’ve been listening to it. I thought this was Matilda from Roald Dahl but was instead by Mary Shelley herself. This was a very bizarre story. I really enjoyed the first half of the story which is about Mathilda writing a final letter to her best friend upon her deathbed. She’s retelling him her tragic story and how the death of her father was her fault. Her childhood was very bleak, touch starved as her mother died and her father abandoned her to his half sister. Her half sister wasn’t warm to her and saw her as a pest, which had Mathilda growing up til she was 16 without a father. Suddenly her father decided to return and within 2 months of his return her aunt dies, and now she’s in his custody. At first everything is fine, until her father starts to lash out at her and is very distant. He at first wants Mathilda to replace her mother and then rejects the idea. They go for a walk and Mathilda presses her father to tell her his deep secret and why he hates her all of a sudden. He refuses until she presses on and then he tells her that he lusts for her. She freaks out, he almost dies in the woods from shame, and then he leaves the next morning. Mathilda is then angry because SHE wanted to leave her father, but because he’s abandoning her again she chases after him. She finds him dead in a hotel room and then Mathilda begins to resent life and living. The story was great up until she decides to chase her father after he leaves her. It became a jumbled mess and Mathilda herself says her mind is a little mad with her decisions. The story started off as an intrigue with beauty descriptions, intense, and then just went bat shit crazy. The story ended on beautiful reflections on nature and how death is not beautiful for those living, but it really lost me. The last hour was a drag. I would definitely suggest listening to it if you have a migraine!

45. Megume to Tsugumi: 5/5 stars. Gay comic, lmao.

46. Golden Sparkle: 5/5 stars. I don’t remember the plot but it was cute.

47. Maltese Falcon: 2/5 stars. I was forced to read this for a film and literature class. Everyone was ranting and raving how the main character should be a male role model but that’s extremely stupid. Look, I love bad male representation (looking at you James Bond), but he was just trash. I get this is a famous crime novel, but GOD. It’s bad.

48. Maiden & Princess: 5/5 stars. This was about a maiden going to a ball who everyone thought she would marry the Prince. Except she and the Prince are best friends and she really fell in love with his sister. We love pride month books!

49. Prince & Knight: 5/5 stars. A gender-swap of Maiden & Princess except this was a Prince who goes off to slay a dragon to save his kingdom only to fall in love with a knight and marry him. SO GOOD.

50. Komi Can’t Communicate, Vol. 1: 4/5 stars. My friend Ramona told me to read this volume since she read it and loved it. While I loved the art and Komi, the story line was just a tad flat for me. It’s a really fun series if you like high school semi-romance but mostly heavy on friendship~!

51. What was Stonewall? 3/5 stars. This was one of those children informative books where they retell a piece of history. I thought this was great for children who know nothing about Stonewall but are hearing it from Drag Queens or in June for Pride History Month. I thought the information about Stonewall was short and concise and also good for children, however the book did verge off point and talk about other points of history as well as random actors who are gay. This is good, but it isn’t Stone wall, you know?

52. Pride: The Story of Harvey Milk and the Rainbow Flag: 4/5 stars. I watched Milk and I cried at the end. I’ve been wanting to know more about how Milk created our Pride Flag and this was another one of those books where it’s curated for children. So I appreciate the run down version it gives us, but they had to “modify” what the stripes mean, such as purple being Sexuality. Let kids hear the unfiltered truth!

53. TBH #1: TBH, This Is So Awkward: 4/5 stars. This was in the teen new released section and it’s a book of text messages. I hated this book, but also was way too invested in it when I was reading it out loud to my date. It’s just a bunch of middle school people sending love notes, getting the Valentine’s Day dance cancelled because they won’t stop using their phone and their principal said “Social Decency.” And then it ended by one of the girls bringing the valentine’s day dance back by creating a Task Force to enforce no texting during school. It was fucking wild and I loved every page I flipped through and wrote in.

54. Adaptations from Short Story to Big Screen: 4/5 stars. I liked it well enough, it was a textbook so I didn’t really read the stories in-depth. However, there are two stories I absolutely love which are Field of Dreams and Smoke Signals.

55. Our Father Who Art in a Tree: 5/5. I loved this book. It’s very true to the experience of what it’s like to be depressed and the first few months of deep grief. While I didn’t lose my parent until my teenage years and my brothers were older, but the strained relationships grief causes is so fucking poignant.

56. Little Miss P: 5/5 stars. I know it’s strange, because it’s a man writing a book about periods, but this was an excellent book. It really showcased the love-hate relationship women have with their periods and also sometimes accurate representations of what it feels like.

57. Ginza Neon Paradise: 4/5 stars. I don’t remember reading this manga! (I’m updating my book list after some months)

58. Na Leo I Ka Makani/Voices on the Wind: 5/5 stars. A book of history and photos of native Hawaiians, royals, and other cultural aspects important to the island. Some really cool photos.

59. Satoko & Nada vol. 2: 5/5 stars. Satoko and Nada are back again, continuing on with their studies and friendship. This book still continues to teach westerners some cool Eastern values while the main characters are learning about each other as well. I think the 3rd volume will come out soonish and that might be the end!!! I love this little series!

60. Annie on My Mind: 5/5 stars. One of the first lesbian novels to show a happy ending with the characters. It’s very much a high school love story and first real love. There were some parts of the story that were absolutely aggravating, painfully embarrassing, but also really heart warming. It’s a queer foundational book in literature, and if you’re interested in the history of queer literature, this should be on your list.

61. Killing Stalking: 5/5 stars. The comic finally ended. I started reading it in 2016 and finished in 2019. God was it a ride. It was full of conflicting feelings, creepiness, and an ending that leaves the reader confused, fulfilled, and also not fulfilled at the same time. I wouldn’t suggest reading it for those who are squeamish with gore, violence, and dark sexual themes, but it’s a fantastic read into what it’s like to experience stockholm syndrome and intense violent trauma.

62. Go for it, Nakamura!: 5/5 stars. A high school student falls in love with his popular classmate, but his classmate doesn’t know he exists! A cute gay book about falling in love, making friends, and pushing yourself to achieve your goals!

63. The Great Gatsby: 4/5 stars. The next two books are books I listened to while deep cleaning my room. It took me two days to fully clean my room, and this was also a challenge for my N.E.W.T.S 2019. I remember reading this book in high school and liking, and I think I lent out my copy and never saw it again. I bought it recently and decided to give it a re-read/listen. I think reading the book would have made it more engaging to me, but I found the themes to not be as impressive as an adult. Maybe it’s because I can’t relate to the characters or their choices are so dumb that I just can’t believe it anymore, but it was still entertaining to listen to. The narrator was great!

64. Emma (Narrated by Emma Thompson): 5/5 stars. This feels a bit like cheating because this rendition was not only abridged, but also had live actors. I’m very familiar with Emma, and Emma Thompson as the narrator was a genius move. However, do I feel like I read/listened to Emma? Not really.

65. Fresh Romance, Vol. 1: 4/5 stars. Half of the stories were very confusing and not very good. However, I really loved two stories about a Regency marriage and a spin off of Beauty and the Beast. I would read this volume just for those additions.

66. Pilu of the Woods: 5/5 stars. A cute story about emotions, friendship, and the woods. It even has a recipe on the back I want to read it!! The colors and characters are adorable. The storyline might not be as solid, but it’s a great read!

67. Ou-same to Puppy Love: 5/5 stars. A foreign prince falls in love with a neat-freak government official. Queue stupid boys in love!

68. Sugar Days: 5/5 stars. Childhood best friends, one small and manly, one tall and feminine, both love each other without having the courage to tell the other!!!! Very cute!!!!!

69. The Tea Dragon Society: 5/5 stars. I remember seeing this book a year ago and how everyone was ranting and raving about it. However, I never bought it or saw it. My best friend brought it over the other day for me to read and I could finally see what the fuss was about. QUEER CHARACTERS, LITTLE DRAGONS WITH TEA LEAVES GROWING OFF OF THEM, MULTIPLE REPRESENTATION!!!! IT’S SO GOOOOOD!

70. Luminous Animal: 5/5 stars. A jazz poetry book. It’s interesting how Tony Moffeit can write the same theme over and over, with the same lines but in different poems with different perspectives. It was really cool!

71. Still Mostly True: 5/5 stars. A weird poetry book that has philosophy and deep meaning poems with also weird ass drawings. However, my poetry book had inscriptions from someone else to their friend. The inscriptions were sometimes very annoying, but also kind of heartwarming how this friend made sure her friend knew she was thinking of her and loving her.

72. Sky, Wind, and Stars. 5/5 stars. A poetry book that was a Korean activist who was murdered by the Japanese through medical experiments for his radical poetry. We watched the movie in my Korean History through film class, and I loved it to bits I wanted to read his poetry. The movie downplayed just how radical his poetry was. Even as a English speaker, I can clearly see the activism, Korean pride that was written during the Japanese occupation. It was a wonderful poetry book, and an important one to Koreans at that. If you have the chance to read it, please do.

73. Memoirs of a Geisha: 5/5 stars. Haley (one of my bffs) recommended me this book like 3 years ago. It’s her favorite and I kept saying I would read it. August was the N.E.W.T.S. challenge and this fit the category of “audiobook” as I listened to a fan read audio of it and then had to read the last 7 chapters. I completely see where my friend finds inspiration in her writing from this book! I really loved the sad story, the harsh reality of Japan, even if this book was more on the idealized version of WWII in Japan and how Geishas were. Some of the thinking of Chiyo I feel could be chalked up to white men ideal sexualization, but overall I really enjoyed this book! Plus the fan who read it was really into her characters and she made the experience really fun.

74. Be Prepared: 5/5 stars. When you’re poor, Russian, and have the All-American-Girls as your best friends, life is extremely hard. No one likes your Russian food, the smallness of your home, and listening to a language not their own. VERA NEEDS SOME FUCKING NEW FRIENDS. As someone whose best friend is Russian, has a sister-in-law who is Russian, and a nephew learning to speak Russian, some people are really insensitive and it drives me nuts. I know a lot of people are upset with this book because it’s not a “full memoir” and yet is described as a memoir. I’ll just pose the question, can you remember 1 month straight at 10 years old, from people to dialogue? No? Yeah, cut the book some slack. This has great representation in terms of Russian culture and learning through it from little Russian eyes.

75. Kiraide Isasete: 5/5 stars. It’s another gay manga.

76. I married my best friend to shut up my parents: 4/5 stars. While I appreciate this story is light-hearted, it seems a bit far fetched for my taste. Also the main character doesn’t believe she’s gay, so I find it hard that a) she would actually get married and b) would just readily fall in love with her friend when she’s literally had no sexual desire for anyone. But other than that, it’s a ridiculous love story and it’s to the point!

78. Heartstopper V.2: 5/5 stars. I already read this awhile ago but I finally got my copy! So I’m just putting it in my list!

79. Raven: 5/5 stars. Raven is the first installment of the origins of the Teen Titans characters. I really loved this novel since Raven has always been a dark character in the original show. This book explores her experience with death, coming to terms with her birth origins, and New Orleans with ancient magic. A great start to a series I’m looking forward to reading the rest of!

80. Heartless. 4/5 stars. A child is taken care of by a succubus (male) after a religious cult burns down a hospital to get rid of the succubus. This story is intense in the gore and horror, but pretty light in plot. There’s no real driving force behind the characters and what they do, no explanation, it’s all just there for the reader to assume it just happened. But the characters were dynamic and interesting with superhuman powers and abilities.

81. The Adventure Zone Vol. 2: 5/5 stars. Every time I see Madame Director I sigh in relief because she exactly looks how I envisioned her while listening to the podcast many years ago. The story line is short, I feel like some of the build up jokes are lost or the frustration Griffin has with his brothers and dad that make the podcast so hilarious are missing, but it’s a really beautiful comic and also a great way for people to start listening to TAZ and MBMBAM

82: The Wind in the Willow: 4/5 stars. An audiobook I listened to. I had the paperback but it was too much reading for my mind for a classic children book. When I found the option on Libby, I listened to it as I started my preparations for the start of my final semester as an undergraduate! It went by fast, the actors were in their characters and there were some songs performed. I really enjoyed it, even if Mr. Toad is ANNOYING AS FUCK. Would recommend for those wanting to kill 2 hours of their time.

83. Classmates: 5/5 stars. High school sweethearts? Can’t express their feelings well? Uh, sign me the FUCK uP.

84-108. W Juliet: 5/5 stars. I haven’t read W Juliet since I was in 7th grade. I remember that I loved it so much that when I was in high school I began collecting the volumes and proudly put it on my shelf. I used to have two bookshelves worth of manga, and when I grew older I sold them but only kept two series: Marmalade Boy and W Juliet (I’m gonna read Marmalade Boy next). I’ve been wanting to reread W Juliet recent and revisit Mako and Ito’s silliness, and with the long weekend I did. I was not prepared for the analysis it would give me to my own life. Like, holy shit. This manga series was so important in developing me who I was as a kid, (some of them very mild kinks that my rp friends are subjected to), the loss Ito has and her issues with gender and like 100000% me and how I don’t like masculine guys at all with their toxicity (hello Mako, you summer child boy). I honestly want to do a fucking research paper on this series with an analysis of myself because of how much I love this series and how I connect to it. You can bet your ass this manga is coming with me for the rest of my life.

109-117. Marmalade Boy: 3/5 stars. Marmalade Boy was the manga that started it all. I remember being 8, having found the manga section with my best friend, and we decided to share reading Marmalade Boy. I was so captivated by the story that I made her wait in the car at her house, refusing to let her have the book until I finished it. It was the final of the volume, and it wouldn’t be another 3 years until I read the series OUT OF ORDER. I kept rereading this series, picking it up, I remember it felt like watching a movie. As an adult? God this series is really awful. The characters are very annoying, the teacher is very creepy, the plot moves WAY too quickly, and no one knows what consent is. It’s fucking insane. 1-7 volume is trash, but the 8th volume really put to life in the characters. For one, they’re older, it's been a few years, and they can step back from the crazy lives of high school. If it wasn’t for the sheer nostalgia, I would be giving these books away. But you gotta pay respect to those books that introduced you to life changing moments.

118. Ouji to Kotori. 4/5 stars. An art student, a prince who buys him, trying to escape, foreign lands, a story that has a “romantic” but is open ended. I liked the flow of the story, the art, and the characters were actually believable.

119. Mean Girls Club. 3.5/5 stars. Mean Girls Club is a 1950s tale of girls rising against the patriarchy through sex, survivor, drugs, and murder. The art style is amazing. But the story line is flat and feels rushed. Not a favorite, but still pretty enjoyable.

120. Grumpy Monkey. 5/5 stars. Grumpy Monkey is the story of a monkey who wakes up grumpy. Despite everyone not believing he can be so grumpy on a beautiful day, him denying that he’s grumpy, and getting angry at people telling him HE’S grumpy, is such a goddamn mood. Nothing pisses me off more than people telling me my mood. You don’t know me. Fuck off. Anyways, this also felt like a mental health book for kids, letting them know it's ok to NOT feel ok. As long as someone is willing to listen and not wanting to fix your grumpiness.

121. Dia de los Muertos. 4/5 stars. A children’s informational book about the Day of the Dead. Short, simple, great education.

123. Wild Cherry. 4/5 stars. Wild Cherry is a poetry book I’ve been totting around for 2 months but have had no energy to pick it up. I’ve been very depressed that I haven’t had time to read, and despite me falling asleep right now, I forced myself to read it. It felt very repetitive after a while with her constant calling back to long lost love, death, and April, but I appreciated the 1923 themes that were NO doubt soo popular.

124. Through the Woods: 5/5 stars. A horror comic book that reminds me a lot of “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.” I lent it to my co-worker since he loves these types of stories!

125. Dancing with Mr. Darcy: 1/5 stars. I read the first story which was Jane Austen crossing the River Styx and facing her judgement and then I tried to read the rest and it was all so fucking boring??? I put the book down and will not be continuing.

126. The Night Diary: 5/5 stars. So this was an audiobook I listened to during the week I had awful vertigo. I couldn’t go to work or university and I laid on the couch, glasses off, just listening to this story. If it hadn’t been read to me, I don’t think I would have loved it as much. It follows Nisha who is forced to leave after WWII when India is split into New India and Pakistan. All muslims are allowed to stay, but all Hindus must leave for New India because of territorial wars. It follows the dreadful path during the desert, the violence they faced, and the child’s innocence slowly being robbed from her. It’s all told through Nisha’s diary who pens it to her mother. The voice actor did a wonderful job.

127. We Contain Multitudes: 5/5 stars. Tiny twink nerd falls in love with Giant Jock football star. And then he falls in love with the nerd and they’re hormonal and coming out and angst with love. I understand why people are upset with the novel: the plot twist seems like a total cop out that the author placed and a 15 year old dating a 18 year old can get borderline statutoary rape. However, I absolutely loved this book. It was refreshing to have a “coming out” narrative that wasn’t focused on coming out, but rather these two boys falling in love through letters, reading the cringe of HS romances, and desperately following these boys through it all. It’s definitely a favorite I read this year!

128. Lovely War: 4/5 stars. This is the third book I read while going through vertigo, and my second audiobook. It’s set during WWI, following two love narratives but told through the perspectives of the Greek God. It was really refreshing, the voice acting was excellent, and I really enjoyed listening while dizzy constantly. I would have given in a 5 star rating, but near the end, Hazel’s pixie-manic girl stereotype was getting out of hand and her hypocrisy was really fucking annoying. However, up until that point, I really enjoyed it and recommended it to several friends!

129. The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge: 4.5/5 stars. I really struggled not giving this book five stars, but I thought some of the narration and story-telling could have done a tiny bit better. This was a great audiobook to listen to while I packed and finished projects before my plane ride to my first ever work conference. I was bummed out that I couldn’t listen to this audiobook on the plane because Libby requires wifi, but I really enjoyed the fantasy comedy of this book (even though fantasy tends to be a topic I don’t dare approach because it just through you into a world with no explanation). 10/10 would recommend to strangers on the street.

130. Aaron and Ahmed: 4/5 stars. I read this books during my great “aaaAH I’M GRADUATING TIME IS UNREAL” So these will be short. A story about after 9/11 and the brutality American soldiers went to gain answers, even if there were none.

131. The Tea Dragon Festival: 5/5 stars. Dragons? Tea? LGTB+? Who could ask for more??

132. Roadqueen: Eternal Roadtrip to Love: 5/5 stars. Lesbians calling out how trashy other lesbians treat girls who generally like them. “Fuck Boy” was used a lot and I loved this.

133. Skull-face Bookseller vol. 1: 5/5 stars. A skeleton tries to sell manga and explores the crazy customers who come in, the social mistakes foreigners make with Japanese booksellers, and Honda-san doing her best to survive in her job.

134-136. Beastars Vol 1-3: 5/5 stars. I saw a bit of the anime and realized there was a manga. I bought the two volumes I could and then the third one from amazon. I really enjoyed this series and look forward to reading it more!

137. I hear the Sunspot Vol 2: 5/5 stars. It’s nice to see the couple going on, even if its GUT-WRENCHING and stupid how they refuse to communicate!!!!! But it hits hard topics of the community for the hard of hearing and functioning in a world where signing is considered not important enough to teach.

138. Pink: 5/5 stars. A sex worker who spends all her money feeding her alligator and the trouble she gets into. Weird art style and at first I opened this book and didn’t buy it. 3 months later, decided to buy it and I adored it.

139: Restless: 4/5 stars. I don’t remember much about it, but I think it was cute. Maybe boyfriends find each other again?

140. How can one sell the air?: 5/5 stars. I’ve had this “calling” to start really reading native american stories and heritage. This is a controversial book with Suquamish people as they either see their leader finally giving up or instilling courage to stay firm even as the world does their best to destroy them. I really enjoyed reading his speech.

141. Skull-face Bookseller Vol. 2: 5/5 stars. Honda-san comes back again with her friends and exploring working in the shop with more crazy customers but also with her new found fame being a manga artist.

142. Gold Rush Women: 4/5 stars. A lot of white women with these narratives, which was disappointing since most of the Gold Rush Women were indegenious or came from other areas of the world rather than just Europe or East America. Wish there were more stories on the black, mexican, indegineous, or chinese women who were forced into slavery or abused or helped create the west.

143. No one is too small to make a difference: 5/5 stars. Greta Thornberg amazes me. Here we have a 15 year old with aspergers who is doing her best to inspire scientists, politicians, and anyone in the world to take charge of our climate change issues. It also amazes me how many people are threatened by a 15 year old and she’s forced to repeat herself in her speeches because people refuse to listen to what she has to say. She’s amazing.

144. Ookami he no Yomeiri: 3.5/5 stars A bunny and a wolf get married. What more can I say?

145. Monody: 3/5 stars: Monody is a strange poetry book. The lyrical writing leaves lacking in terms of uniqueness and deep thought, but aesthetically it is beautiful. Blue font paired with geographical maps of Reno, Nevada, the poetry book comes off more of an art piece.

146. Usagi no Mori: 3/5 stars. Uhmmm. Don’t remember…

#2019 books #2019 book reviews #2019 book list #book reviews

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the-end-of-art · 5 years

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A singular organism around food

How The Farewell Director Lulu Wang Stayed True to Herself

A conversation with the writer-director about love, the lies we tell, and being faithful to your own story.

at GQ by Chris Gayomali

The first scene of The Farewell introduces Awkwafina as Billi, weaving her way through the streets of New York while on the phone with her grandmother in China, Nai Nai. Their conversation is warm, if mundane, but it’s cleverly punctuated with little white lies: Billi says yes, Nai Nai, she’s wearing a hat for the cold (she’s not). Nai Nai, meanwhile, unspools a few falsehoods of her own: she says she’s just at home when she’s actually at the hospital for a checkup. The back-and-forth makes for an elegant volley of disinformation; if love is kinetic, it’s best to keep things moving.

“It was really important to portray how close she is with her grandmother, even though they don't see each other that often and live on opposite ends of the globe,” says the film’s director, Lulu Wang. We’re sitting in a sunny room in A24’s Manhattan offices, talking about the film, her second-ever feature, and all the tangles that come from releasing something this autobiographical out into the world. “It's this unconditional love that Billi really only receives from her grandmother, because, I think, as an Asian-American and Asian immigrant, the love of our parents is not like what American kids talk about.”

The Farewell is based on actual events. Sort of. Nai Nai, the matriarch of the family, is at the hospital because she was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. The doctor tells her sister, Little Nai Nai, that she only has a few months to live, so the family makes the collective decision to not disclose the bad news to her, because the fear, as they understand it, is what will truly kill her. In response, the family hastily organizes a sham wedding for one of the cousins—a ruse of a family reunion—so that everyone can say their goodbyes to Nai Nai, who is none the wiser.

Wang originally told her story on This American Life in 2016, which led to her writing the script for The Farewell, and, eventually, to receiving rhapsodic reviews at Sundance and an acquisition from A24. Last month, GQ sat down with Wang to talk about the film, growing up as an immigrant in Miami, and more.

GQ: Did your family feel weird at all when they learned that you were making something this revealing?

Lulu Wang: I think they felt weird about what I was going to represent about each of them. It's not like they’re very secretive, but my mom, especially, is a very private person. She was like, "Go make a movie, but I don't want to be noticed and I don't want to be in the spotlight." I think she is superstitious and an anxious person, so when things are going really well, she can often be like "be careful!" instead of celebrating.

In what ways is she superstitious? Is she a ghost person who believes in spirits and all that?

She just believes when things are going too smoothly, you have to be careful, because energetically something will go wrong. She very much believes that if there's something you want very badly, and you have no control over getting it—like if you want to meet a partner in your life—that you need to ask the universe. You need to put it out to the universe and ask. She's not Christian. She's not religious in any one particular way. But she will say you have to make yourself humble and say, "I need to ask for this thing because I have no control.”

Where did you find the encouragement to make that leap and make something like this?

I think it was because I had done a feature previously [2014��s Posthumous]. That gave me the confidence to know that, one, I know I can make a movie. I can put together a film project. I can direct actors. I can run a set. Two, I think it proved to my parents that I can also do [all those things] because it provided a proof of concept, right?

My mother is one of these people, she's like, "I'm not an American parent"—they all believe their own kid is wonderful and everything. She’s like, "I'm a mother just like millions and millions of other mothers. What makes me think my kid is special?"

[Laughs] Oh, wow.

She'll also contradict herself! She’ll say, not that you’re special exactly, but that you're destined, or that “we came out here [to America], sacrificed for you, and so you need to make a good life.” When I made my first feature, it was really surprising for my parents to go, "You can make a film and were amazing! You put this together, and you have to keep going!" Having their support meant everything. It meant that I didn't have to try to constantly prove myself, and I could actually take the leap of faith and take risks in my storytelling.

I also felt like after doing This American Life, it was just such a pure, organic experience of storytelling where I said, "This happened to me." It was just purely about story and character. I recorded it here in New York at [their] office. I had a glass of whiskey in this secret bookshelf room. You pull this book down and you go in! I had a glass of whiskey and it was late at night, and it was just me and [producer] Neil Drumming. We sat down from an investigative perspective and were like, "Tell me more. Dig deeper," as opposed to, "How do we make this more entertaining? How do we sell it? How do we market it?" I recorded and we did basically one take of the whole story.

One thing I really liked about the movie is that you didn't attempt to over explain anything. There was a real confidence in what you were trying to do, and you didn't try to cater to anyone about trying to explain subtle cultural differences or anything like that. How early on in the writing process did you decide "I'm not going to try to explain all this stuff. I'm just going to let it live and be its own thing"?

Pretty early. It's not because I didn't try. People kept giving notes about stuff. I think that's one of the challenges when you're a woman or a person of color in the industry. When you're given so few opportunities, or you sense a lack of opportunity for yourself, in many ways when you finally are given an opportunity you can't say no. You're like, "I have to take it."

So when people give notes and things like that to you, you really want to be accommodating. I did try a lot of them, but ultimately, I would go down a path and just go, "This doesn't feel right. I actually don't know what I'm writing. I'm writing somebody else's idea. I'm not writing from a place that's emotional."

Do you have an example of those notes?

One note I got was that the mom was too mean throughout the movie.

[Laughs] I didn't see that at all.

Exactly. To me, I'm like, "I don't think she's mean. I just think that's who she is!" I think that if you're raised in a different way, you might see that as being mean because somebody speaks in a very honest, clear way. To me, even the arguing isn't being mean. It's just them working their thing out.

That's just communicating.

Exactly. [Laughs] They're just talking, what are you talking about?

There was also this desire to have a resolution of some kind, and have a little bit of a hug. Then the producer was like, "Okay. Maybe not a hug. That's cheesy. I get that. But maybe even just some kind of a nod that they understand each other?"

I was just like, "Tell you what, if you can make that happen in my real life, then I'll put in my movie." Then he laughed and was like, "touché, touché."

For Asians it’s such an intergenerational thing too. You will have a conversation and there is no resolution. You’ve got to keep it moving.

There were a lot of notes about the food, too. They were like, "The movie feels very repetitive because there's all these food scenes." I was like, "Exactly!"

They were like, "No, no, no. The audience is going to get tired of watching that, and you should make them go do something else." I was like, "Like what?" They were like, "Can they go take a walk through a park?" I was like, "Why would they do that?"

I saw food as a way to orient the family, to illustrate them as a singular organism around food. Everyone knows their role, and feeding someone is an act of love.

Was that something you experienced in your household growing up?

Absolutely. I think that's something I had to learn: That different people have different love languages, and that for my family, maybe they weren't constantly like, "I love you, you're the best, you rock!" But there was always a home-cooked meal on the table every night no matter what was going on.

If I'd been traveling, I come home, my mom makes noodles.

What kind of noodles does she make you?

It depends what's in the fridge. If there's chicken soup then she'll make chicken noodle soup. But if there's not, then it'll just be a really simple egg and tomato with some scallions. Comfort noodles.

I think for the movie, what I was exploring with food was also that it's a source of tension, because it is an expression of love. For Grandma, who thinks that everybody's home for a celebration, her way to express love is to give you all of this food. Your way to express love is to eat it, and to eat a lot of it.

Even when you're full.

Food is this physical manifestation of the conflict, of love, and wanting to accept that love, but you’re grieving, so you can't accept that love. The constant pressure from that to eat, eat, eat is normally not a big deal, so it becomes a much bigger, dramatic set piece.

When you're grieving, one of the things that you lose is your appetite. It's not necessarily explicit in the movie, but one of the things Little Nai Nai told me about why they lie is that when a person finds out bad news, they stop eating. They stop sleeping. Yes, you could say they die of fear in this abstract way, but you can also say in a practical way, that if they stop eating and they stop exercising or leaving the house and then they stop sleeping, then the lack of sleep causes more depression. And so yes in a literal way, that news can kill them.

My Asian friends and I always joke about it. We're just like, "The love of our Asian mother, it's conditional." You don't understand that unless you have one. The grandma is different, right? In many ways, [Billi and Nai Nai’s] love exists in a time capsule separate from age, space, distance. It's just always like, "Have you eaten? Are you wearing [something warm]?" You're always a child. You humor each other, because you're not going to tell them and make them worry. It becomes this ritual of like, "I will tell you what you want to hear." It doesn't matter.

So you grew up in Florida—

In Miami, which is not really Florida.

What was your social life like growing up there?

Honestly, it was very strange, because I moved when I was six and was still learning English. But Miami is as much Cuban as it is "American." People were speaking Spanish as much as people were speaking English, and here I was trying to fit in.

As a kid, that's all you want to do. You kind of just want to go, "I want to forget the fact that I'm an immigrant. I don't want to be different." As the Chinese girl, you don't fit in with anybody. It wasn't a large Chinese-American population, so I didn't grow up having a community of Asian friends. Even when there were Asian people, we sort of existed on our own. There was no culture. There was no Asian-American culture the way that it is in San Francisco or L.A., where you can have a posse and you have a food culture. I didn't have that. It was sort of like mainstream America or my parents, who were watching Chinese movies.

And you studied music too, right? What instrument did you play?

Piano. Like in the movie. I was classically trained since the age of four. I went to art conservatory high school, so for a long time, my piano teachers were like, "You should be a pianist! You have what it takes if you would just work a little harder." I just didn't really want to practice seven hours a day in a room by myself. They were just constantly disappointed in me, because they were like, "But you have a gift and if you don't use it, you're wasting it." I was like, "Is it really a gift if it doesn't make me happy?"

Practicing piano is such an isolating experience, too. You're alone and solely focused on the mistakes.

Completely. You're doing concerts. You're constantly performing. For me, it was like, I love music. Now coming back to it, I love playing the piano and I'm glad that I know it because it's a form of expression for me now. But at the time, it was not. It was about, "Here's a piece of sheet music. This is how you're supposed to play it. There's a right way and there's a wrong way, and by the way, don't fuck up!" [Laughs.]

My mother always wanted to play an instrument. Her parents never gave her that. Then it got to a point where I'd been playing for 18 years, and to give it up would make me feel guilty. But my parents also knew that realistically, I wasn't going to become a concert pianist. Whenever I would want to quit I would get this massive guilt trip over it. Like: "Everything we did to get you those lessons and we had no money! And we still took you to this church every single day so that you could play, and we spent a huge amount of our savings to buy you a piano. It was the first large purchase that we got, was this piano for you!"

On one hand, you're really appreciative, but on the other hand you're like, "I didn't ask for that, and now you're putting that on me, and I can't pursue other things because I'm tied to this piano." It's like that scene in The Piano where even though she loves the piano, you cut it off because it's a burden. I felt like, in some ways, when it's a burden it makes you sink. It doesn't make you fly.

Was going into writing a response to that in some ways for you?

No. My mother was a writer in Beijing. She was the editor of The Beijing Literary Gazette, which was like a New Yorker. She was a cultural editor and wrote criticism of literature and movies, so I always wrote. I grew up in a household that really encouraged reading and writing. My mother loves philosophy and is constantly reading philosophy and talking to me about different philosophers and different ways of life. You wouldn't expect this Chinese-American housewife to just constantly quote Nietzsche, but she does.

How old were you when you got into film?

I was in college. It was my senior year of school.

That’s a pretty late start.

Yeah. For my parents, it wasn't in their realm of reality for me to be a filmmaker, because who was doing it who was Asian-American?

They didn't drop you off at Blockbuster on Friday afternoons or anything like that.

Right. We would just watch what was on TV. Or my parents love Sound of Music.

Sound of Music was so big in our house growing up too.

Yeah? I wonder why that is. Fiddler on the Roof was a big one, too. My mother loves that movie so much. But I didn't grow up watching art house films. When I was in college I took a film elective, Film 101, and I shot on Super 8. That's when I fell in love with filmmaking. I loved finding the rhythm of an edit, and how much an edit can change everything. I edited on an Elmo so I was physically getting film print and cutting and taping.

The physicality of that experience of seeing frame by frame, and working with my friends made me fall in love with it. Then after that I took World Cinema. I took Feminist Film Theory. Then I started to go, "Oh, my God. There's so much here."

When I was making [The Farewell] I was like, "Yeah. I don't care about the genre, but really, I'm trying to explore the inner sense of dread that I had the entire time." From the outside it may look like a happy go lucky Asian family eating a meal, but on the inside, it felt like I was in a horror film, because at any moment something bad could happen. So I was like, actually, why don't I look at horror films as a reference?

Oh yeah?

I said to my DP: "These scenes where we're really rooted in Billy's perspective, let's reference horror film techniques," because horror film is all about being able to visualize the things that you can't see. Creating atmosphere. Creating tone. Through using the camera and things like that, you can really feel the tension. There's a monster in the room that you don't see, but you know it’s there because it's been set up. The lie is the monster.

So for you, it was the process first before any specific filmmakers as points of inspiration?

Yeah. I think that's always been the case for me. I don't like the sense of worship that we have in our culture, of putting people or art on a pedestal. For me, I've always fallen in love with the process before any kind of icon or representation of something. It's also the way that I learn the best. It’s not reading about things in books and being told, "This is how chemistry works." For me, it was always like, "Show me." The physical experience of it makes me remember.

I work with a lot of writers, and sometimes I feel like the people who are most creative are the ones who didn’t go to J-school, or didn’t have a writer they worshipped. They aren't trying to adhere to these older value systems, so they come at it from this original place.

It's completely important to understand history and to study the craft and the art and what's come before you. But at the same time, because I learned all of that later in life, I discovered it through process first. I was able to kind of go, "This is what I'm trying to do. Who else is doing that? Let me see. Oh. You? Okay. I'll take a little bit of that, and I'll take a little bit of this."

In some ways, people who worship, it almost feels like, "Are you in love with a lifestyle? With an image? With an idea?" You're in love with the idea of something. You love Tarantino. Well, what do you love about Tarantino? Yes, the films, but what else? It's this idea of what he represents in the culture. Because we don't have that kind of representation for people like us. When you don't have a lot of archetypes and a lot of representation, you also don't have a lot of rules. And so you don't even have to break rules, because there are no rules.

(https://www.gq.com/story/lulu-wang-the-farewell-interview)

Other great interviews:

https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2019/07/lulu-wang-director-farewell-welcomes-your-tears/593806/

https://www.vox.com/2019/7/16/20687739/lulu-wang-farewell-interview-identity

https://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/movies/michael-phillips/ct-ent-lulu-wang-farewell-interview-0721-20190719-crfv36av7fglfafxvs3ec77sgu-story.html

https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2019/07/237713/the-farewell-director-lulu-wang-interview

#the farewell #lulu wang #asian #asian american #chinese american #chinese #family #love

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courtorderedcake · 6 years

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RIPTIDE 2/13

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter II : Mist

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When Zelena summoned her to her chambers, Emma was sure she’d been discovered. It had been months since Walsh had forced her into illicit nights of his mouth on hers, and his hands groping ever farther into territory she wished lay unexplored. She knew the consequences if Zelena found out, but Granny’s life lay in her hands. She was the closest thing to a mother she’d ever known.

“Emma. I’ve been watching you, you know.” Zelena sat in the small space of her quarters in a plush emerald chair, upholstered in shimmering velvet and lined in golden embroidery. The cabin was narrow with a small window, filled with the chair, candles that were lit haphazardly, a canopied bed that was built into what might have previously been a small closet, a bookshelf, a cedar chest, and a small table covered in bottles. The door closed behind her, and Emma gulped.

“Yes.”

“I’ve noticed what you think you’ve been hiding from everyone.” Zelena smiled deviously, steepling her fingers. The hair on the nape of Emma’s hair stood on end. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret?”

Emma stared into the crimson haired woman’s eyes. “I don’t know-”

”You should embrace it, like I have. It’s a gift, no matter what weak minded fools say.” Zelena made a dismissive motion towards the door, her mouth curling into a sneer. “Magic is nothing to hide.”

”Magic?” Emma let out a breath of relief, her face contorting in confusion. “What are you talking about, magic?”

It was Zelena’s turn to be confused. She blinked several times, her face falling into a confused and astonished expression. “Emma, my pet, your magic. It radiates off you. Honestly- how could you not notice?”

Emma’s heart began to race. “I haven’t ever… I mean, I don’t have-”

”You healed Snow when she fell from the rigging months back. A fall like that should have broken her back.”

“That was luck, she slowed herself by catching some rope.” Zelena shook her head.

“You’ve conjured sunlight during gray days, and when you sing, dolphins and mermaids come near.”

“Mermaids are always seeking pirates to lure to the grave. And dolphins, well…” She swallowed hard. “They think we’ll throw out fish.” The candles in the room seemed to dim.

“Even right now, you’re messing with the candle light. You could be a more powerful sorceress than me even, with the right training.” Zelena’s eyes seemed to grow greener, glittering like a cat who caught the canary.

“No, I believe you are mistaken. Those are all just coincidences. I don’t even know the first thing abou-”

Zelena shot a bolt of green fire at her, and she flinched, smelling the sulfuric flame that she was sure she’d feel licking her with its acid tongue of pain soon. Her hands warmed, but nothing bit her with a burning sting. She peeked one eye open. The flame rested before her, held by a white light flooding from her palms, flickering in the cabin. All the candles were out, the green light coming from Zelena casting an unearthly shadow over everything, tinging the space emerald. Zelena’s face was a sly smile.

“When would you like to begin your lessons, my darling pet?”

Between magic lessons, her kitchen duties, and Walsh’s continued violations, Emma was growing exhausted. It didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, with the crew more sympathetic than her teacher, who in turn was much more sympathetic than the rank man in back of her.

Walsh pawed her naked breast, grunting with the other hand in his pants, rutting against her ass. She was used to his usual crassness, but he’d been pushing for more of late, seeking to take her as a woman and man joined. Emma had known for years she most likely would never be a woman who was able to save herself for marriage, but she had hoped she’d at least find someone who made her feel something other than revulsion.

A few women on the ship sought female company after unpleasant experiences like her own. Fewer still sought out the occasional male companion or consort, which generally were more common in the uncharted shores or more exotic and inhibited locales. Zelena did not like such places because they didn’t have the finer luxuries she was accustomed to.

And oh was Zelena ever accustomed to fineries, Emma was finding. Zelena has started her off with mapping and studying where various herbs could be found, along with other sundries, talismans, magickal items, and rare stones or gems. Then she’d had her chart merchant courses to create a route that would keep her coffers and apothecary cabinet stocked, and set Emma up with a book making her various unguents and potions for beauty.

Emma had proved to be moderately skilled, Zelena overjoyed and tasking her with studying more arcane magic. The magic was mostly enchanting swords, creating poisons to wipe on blades, bewitching objects, or summoning the elements to do your bidding. Emma found it easy, and spellcraft or elemental magic easier yet. After weeks of practice, she could create a flaming sword, heal small wounds, or conjure a bright burning light in one hand while a rapier was held in the other.

When Emma had found an aging Bradshaw through word of mouth, dragging his sorry hide on board per Zelena’s request for a man to test poisons on, Emma felt a delight that was almost sisterly. Killing Bradshaw with a painful combination of poisons while spittle ran into his graying beard was not quite just desserts. Emma would have given anything to have poisoned the slaver at his prime, when he had whittled away her skin for a laugh. Zelena was beyond impressed at Emma’s aptitude for cruelty and creating poison blends that caused torment. The next morning, Zelena demoted Walsh with a smirk, promoting Emma to First Mate instead. Emma would swear the woman gave her a motherly look, the unease of her company fading.

Eventually Zelena demoted Walsh, no one particularly shocked other than him, his last line of superiority disappearing. To complicate matters, Zelena had praised Emma, stating she was the most skilled in battle and hinted at making her his replacement. Meri had at first been icy, but even she couldn't stay mad for long when watching Walsh sulk was such a delight. Zelena made it very clear what his purpose was on her ship, her personal dandy to keep her satisfied until someone else could fulfill her needs. A toy, a wind up monkey, clattering around for her entertainment only. His anger was palpable on deck every time she called for him. Emma would feel bad if it wasn’t so ironic. Walsh, caught in the same net he cast for her.

Zelena began to trust Emma with more self study but never anything that could truly threaten her own skill. She was a narcissist, but a realist first and foremost. A threat was a threat, and as someone who coveted her possessions, Zelena kept them close to her chest. Or so she thought.

The first thing to escape her, whether in obliviousness or arrogance, was Walsh seeking Emma’s companionship every morning, and Zelena’s bed chambers every night that she summoned him. She was an insanely envious woman, and Walsh had caused a few women to meet her fury by trying to sneak a poke in at brothels under her nose. Emma suspected Zelena didn’t think anyone on the Oz would dare. Truly, Emma wished she could stop the entire disgusting ritual, but Walsh had been prepared.

“This is going to continue as long as it suits my needs,” he’d said as he forced himself into her mouth. “And if you say anything, to anyone, I will make sure that everyone on this ship thinks you initiated it, as well as killing your grandma myself.”

She hated the taste of him, but she hated knowing how easy it would be for him to convince Zelena that she was the instigator. He’d fallen out of favor with Zelena, and she was quick now to call him on his incompetence while using him for her other needs. Instead, after a bloody battle that left Emma breathless from the use of both her magic and blade, Zelena had praised her in front of the crew while chastising Walsh’s failure to do much more than cower.

As it stood, Zelena had just let Emma gain her trust. That trust factored into the second thing Zelena failed to notice - something even Emma barely noticed herself, at first.

Emma realized it slowly, practicing her craft at night and feeling her magic pulse all through the ship like tendrils or veins. She could feel the ocean and its currents, deep into dark waters, the night air and starlight - elements being broken down further and further until everything was light or dark or electric or an unexplainable force. She could feel that force in everything, moving in and out like the breath of some great invisible beast.

And Emma could reach a finger to touch it, if she just pushed, pushed -

A great pair of yellow eyes stared at her, unblinking, the pupil widening and shrinking as it came to focus on her being. At first they stared at each other, and each felt the other. A light and a darkness, one small and one large, one so very young, one ancient but not yet wise. She felt its curiosity as well as her own before she lost hold of the thread, falling back into her body.

She’d woken up sweating to a ruckus on deck. Throwing on her clothes, she joined a small handful of the crew, including Zelena, who were watching the sun come up and join the moon in the sky at an unnatural pace, blinding them and bleaching the night sky in its radiance before dipping back below the horizon again.

“An omen,” Zelena had said, quietly.

“Of what? When has the sun ever chased a still moon, and then raced forward before stopping? What kind of omen is that?” Emma asked, shivering slightly in the now chill air of the returned night.

“A great power has manifested itself. That’s an ancient spell that even I can’t do. It’s in a relic of mine somewhere. Starsphere manipulation, or something.” She yawned, and stretched. “I’m going back to bed. Since all of you are up, you can begin your day early.”

Emma sighed, and returned to the bunks to get dressed for the day. She blinked when she saw the book she’d been reading the night before by candlelight, realizing the cover was well worn and not the book that she thought she’d been studying. Looking at the text of the cover, she couldn’t help the chill that ran up her spine, excitement thumping in her heart like cannon fire.

“SpellKrafte of the Starspheres”.

Their latest haul had been a success, a ship taken down and heavy pockets for every one of the crew. Emma had run several men through, including the captain who had tried to shoot her with a shoddy pistol, unable to get off the shot before her sword cut through him like a ribbon. She’d smiled into his face, letting him know that her angel looks held back a demon’s blood lust. In the hold, they’d found wine, cheese, fresh fruits, vegetables, spices, and tea; and Zelena was happy to announce the coffers were full again with the gold and jewelry they looted. There were no survivors this time, simply blood, bodies and fire offered to the sea when they had finished stripping the ship. David, Snow, and Emma watched it sink into the black water, a gift happily given for another day of plunder.

When the ship had sank into the sea, Zelena gave orders quickly before going to her ledgers, and Emma took up for her in her absence. She knew everyone but Walsh was pleased that she was now First Mate, her ease and fair hands left little need for the punishments once doled out by Zelena. David maintained the weapons easily, teaching new crew members when Emma or Snow could not, and Meri, along with Fa, had made navigation a breeze. The new worlds were not so new with their residents among them.

Walsh had taken to punishing Emma for his demotion with his body, pulling her aside in the mornings when she woke to help Granny. His needs had gotten lewder and much rougher, and she found herself escaping into thoughts of her duties as he spent himself. It never lasted long, for which she was grateful; he had given up seeking anything but his own pleasure. She’d open her mouth, let him pull down her trousers or hike up her skirts, and pretended she wasn’t thinking of unfurling sails or making sure the gunpowder casks were dry.

If he thought she was bored, he’d give her a heavy handed smack which caused an annoying bruise she’d have to hide, so she tried to show slight interest in his grunts. He’d spill himself down her throat, on the floor of the store room, or more frustratingly in her skirts, hair, or on her breasts. She hated the sticky feeling of him on her skin as it were, but it was better this than letting him fill her - that was the worst. The apothecaries in a few port towns carried several potent herbs that when mixed just right, created a tincture that prevented becoming with child. Although she used it religiously, the risk of carrying some bastard scared her.

Emma never wanted children, and the idea of bringing a child into this world that had hurt her so badly made her skin crawl. Her hands were covered in the blood of men, death an old friend she helped to feed. A child did not belong in this world. She had, at many times, hidden herself for just a few moments, assuring herself that nothing would happen, nothing could happen, the fear too much to bear in an open space. Walsh would occasionally use that fear, talking about forcing her to marry and stay on shore, and on those days, her anger was palpable while frustration at her situation boiled over.

One of the ways she let off her frustration at the arrangement with Walsh was seeking out companions in port towns, finding dandies, the rare male escort, or a woman of the night. Nothing was truly satisfying, and she hated watching someone try and pretend they were enjoying something they weren’t. Even when slightly enjoyable, there was never any reason to go back or any connection.

They made port that night with coin to spend, and Emma made her way into one of the disreputable taverns where she knew trouble would not find her. Sinking into a chair, she drank heartily and let the conversations flow over her, the different crews shouting and jostling each other, many different songs from different lands weaving together into a comforting lull. Walsh had been rougher this morning; drinking helped her forget a hard day’s work on top of the bruises on her hips.

As some men were lured away by women to drop trousers and coin, one of the older patrons began playing away on an accordion to a familiar sea shanty, the liveliness thrumming in the crowd as more voices joined in. One of the bartenders pulled out a fiddle, and the place came alive with drunken singing and dancing. For a moment, Emma let herself smile into her tankard as she drank the spiced ale, enjoying the way her head spun.

When two uniformed officers crossed her line of vision, the smile disappeared. She could feel the tension settle for a moment, before the taller of the two spoke up.

“A round on me, and my little brother. Tomorrow we leave, and tonight you have the finest ale.” His shout was met with a hearty cry of appreciation from the sailors inside, and the music started up again, louder than before. The shorter brother, still wearing his hat, approached the bar near where she sat. She could hear the coins clink behind her.

A tankard appeared to her left, placed down by the younger brother. Following the arm, she looked up into blue eyes, lit with amusement. “Here you go lass.” She blinked at him, watching trays of ale go around to the other tables.

“A toast!” said the taller brother of the two, shouting again. “To fair seas, and fair weather, as far as the horizon goes!” Glasses clinked, and Emma raised hers halfheartedly. Throwing back the remnants of her first ale, she started on the second. The younger brother still hadn’t moved and was too close for her liking.

“Another toast.” Emma bristled. “To better lives, and futures.” he said, and she tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested in company.

Emma snorted. “Sure, mate.”

“Have a little hope darling.” A chair scraped and he was sitting beside her. “You never know what the future holds.”

She stared at him, seeing the glint of hope in his eyes, and felt pity rise in her stomach. He couldn’t be much older than her, but she knew so much better of waiting for brighter futures. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she had seen what his king sent men to their deaths for; that in ports all over the world, there were men that were once like him. Men that were now broken husks, full of loss.

Instead, she whispered curses softly under her breath.

“What was that lass?”

She smiled sadly. “I said, I wish you good luck, Lieutenant.” she lifted her tankard.

He smiled brightly, tapping her tankard with his. Quickly, Emma drank the rest of her ale before pulling out her chair and leaving through the open door. The night air felt good, crisp and cleansing on her face, and the moon was high in the sky, leaving plenty of light to guide her down the street. She hadn’t realized how much she had drank, her cheeks felt warmed. At this point, holding her liquor and keeping her footing were never problems unless something very strong was involved, even if she felt a little dizzy.

“Hey, hey wait-” he called out to her, and Emma turned around to appraise him. He swayed slightly, and she sighed. Not used to holding his drink yet either. Burying any emotion, she composed herself before he approached. The last thing she wanted tonight was this poor boy trying to keelhaul her; he’d lose a hand and she’d get a lashing from Captain Zelena.

“Yes?” she asked, letting the bite of irritability shine through.

“I know this isn’t good form, but I-” He stepped towards her and she could see under starlight that he’d lost his hat, his jet black hair falling out of his pulled back style. “I wanted to ask you if you’d give me a kiss for good luck.”

Emma sighed. Sailor superstition was rife, but this was ridiculous.

“You don’t want a kiss from me, mate. I’m cursed. You’ve better luck finding a toad to press your lips against.” She turned away again, and he gripped her wrist.

“I may have better luck with the toad, but I’ve asked you.” He looked down at her through dark lashes and she felt flush color her cheeks and ears. “You're beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He flushed, nervously scratching behind his ear. “I may have had too much to drink, and I’m usually not this forward, but I mean it. You’re stunning.” His words were sincere, ringing completely genuine. Something inside her stomach flipped, causing the bite in the night air to lose its teeth completely.

“Fine, Lieutenant.” She pressed her lips against his, and he pressed back. She’d kissed other sailors, men with chapped lips and stubble, but this was velvet soft, while his tongue asked for entry without demand. He turned his head to deepen it and she obliged, her skin licked with heat. She should have ended this instantly, but he tasted like honey, mint, ale, salt of the sea, and a rich headiness that made her dizzy. He groaned into her, and she bit his lip to illicit another. He pushed her back against a building or a wall, she couldn’t tell; she was breathless and a knee was between her legs.

Hadn’t he mentioned good form? Emma didn't care.

He seemed unsure as she rocked her aching core against his leg. Nothing ever felt like this with Walsh or any other man for that matter- there was never this hunger, the fire burning and wrapping her in a tingling blanket of sensation. She wanted more, eyes widening as she let out a moan into his ear, his fingers wrapping around her waist, his other hand stroking the neckline of her corset.

She reached a hand to his buckle, undoing the ridiculously shiny thing, and pushed down the front of his pants. In the lower streets here, it was common to see lovers, paid or otherwise, enjoying each other’s bodies.

“Here? In the street? I can’t; I don’t do this. We can’t,” he hissed, his voice hoarse. She nodded, tugging on his length, unsure of what had come over her. “We - we shouldn’t.” She licked her palm and continued, and he rutted into her hand. “We should go back and get a room,” he moaned the last word, as she twisted up and down his cock. “Oh, Gods, damn it it all!” His hands pulled down her corset, and he sucked hard on a nipple, plucking at the other. Emma felt like she was being lit, like a gun filled with powder ready to fire.

Was this what the whores in the brothel felt when they wailed into the night? What other sprawled bodies in other shadowed alleys moaned about while people looked away? Hot breath in the crook of their neck, a warm tongue laving their collar bone, a coil that tightened when his fingers found her wet and aching? Oh, his fingers!

He curled them in her, whispering how wonderful she’d feel around him, how she probably tasted like heaven. He found a sensitive spot, and she ground down on his hand. His fingers left her and she whimpered, wishing he would keep that sweet pressure on her. He instead stroked his shaft with his wet fingers and slowly, reverently, sheathed himself.

Her body trembled, and they held each other forehead to forehead for a small time. This wasn’t just sex. This was making love, or rather with the love absent, fucking for pleasure. Walsh was sex, and nothing more; this dark haired lieutenant was a push to lunacy; his body pressed into hers so tightly with the brick biting her back, his first movements making them both moan lowly.

His eyes were blown out, as she pushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling the beginning of something low in her belly rising like the breath you search for as you drown. They found a rhythm, rocking with each other sloppily. She let out a laugh that he mirrored with a grin when they fumbled for a moment and she almost slipped. He dug into her deeper, making her toes curl, her noises becoming needy pants on his shoulder as she dug her nails in his back.

“There! Fuck, yes, there!” she moaned. The new angle had him gripping her hips, sinking her body on his with groans of pleasure. The drag of him inside, hitting spots in her that had been so neglected, had that coil in her belly tight once again. Everything was taut, tense and waiting, waiting to feel something she’d been chasing for so long. She’d never gotten this close before. She felt like one of the moths that circled lanterns at night so close to heat.

”That’s it lass, come for me,” he groaned, moving faster, and the pleasure she felt had her writhing. It was euphoric, and then it was more; starlight ran in her veins, pumping through her heart to shoot back to her fingers and toes. She felt her body tighten and spasm as she cried out into his neck. He whispered into her ear how beautiful she was, sweet things that had her eyes feeling glassy, kissing her and keeping her on a sword’s edge that caused her thighs to quiver. It continued as he took, burying himself as deep as he could into her body, letting out a shuddering moan as he pulsed.

They panted into each other’s shoulders, tightly gripping each other. She snuggled into his embrace, her skirts shifting, and his cock softening. He kissed her temple as she adjusted herself with a shy smile. In this moment, drunk and soft, body sated and held tight, she let herself be vulnerable. Hazy thoughts of blue eyes, dark hair, reddened lips, and the golden buttons of his uniform that pressed into her skin broke down long standing walls. If she believed in fate, this moment would be destiny.

“See. You never know what the future holds,” he whispered into her ear, tucking back a blonde strand of hair. He let her down carefully, pulling himself from her and tucking himself back into his trousers. He helped her pull up her corset to her surprise, and pressed soft kisses to her neck.

“You shouldn’t go.” It crept out of her lips before she could stop it. He blinked slowly like waking from a dream.

“Shouldn’t go? Where?”

Her voice was a harsh whisper. If she could save one person from the hell of dying for the King’s greed, she’d try. Especially this man, so young and full of life, who believed in good form and telling her she was beautiful.

“You shouldn’t go to whatever hellscape the king is sending you to. He only sends men to their death. It’s not my place, but please -” His hand covered her mouth, and the moment was broken. A cloud covered the moon, darkness falling over them.

“What you say is treason,” he hissed, slowly releasing her and moving back a step. She shook herself, walls coming back up with no effort, meeting his eyes. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Do not trust your king. You’ll die if you listen to his lies. ” She watched his face harden with resolve.

“You know nothing about me, our king, or our mission.” His eyes darkened like the sky above. “We seek to end the last encampments of ogres. We’ll be saving people and children that these foul creatures kill. We will be heroes and free men!”

Emma was about to speak, to tell him about real freedom, but a voice broke the silence.

“Brother!” Someone was shouting, and he pulled away to look. “There is ale still to be drank and the night is young!” Her heart hammered in her chest, and she steadied herself. The spell was shattered, and not every man could be saved. Even this one that quickened the beat of her heart insistently. Pulling her cloak up over her head, she moved from him, pushing him aside. To her surprise, he moved to catch her arm, his footfalls behind her. They broke into a run through the town’s smoky corridors.

“Wait!” he called after her, but she knew her way through the alleys and back streets, twisting until she was back in front of The Emerald Envy of Oz. She made her way to the gangplank.

David stared at her coldly. He earned his nickname, Charming, by his expressionless face in battle and his quiet demeanor that hid a sharp tongue. She nodded at him in greeting, straightening her skirted breeches and corset under her cloak. David cocked an eyebrow, and she blushed red in only the way a sibling can embarrass you and make you angry at the same time.

“It’s not what it looks like.” She stomped up the gangplank.

David grunted. “It never is.”

“Some Navy fool shipping off tomorrow for his first bloodbath wanted a kiss.” She threw herself down on a crate, folding her arms.

Another grunt, and a snorted laugh. “So he won’t be making it to see the waters, dear sister?”

She grinned salaciously. “He’ll live, for tonight, at least. And he’s in much better spirits. I gave him a bit more than a kiss to comfort him when he dies for his King.” She winked, and watched her brother’s body stiffen, ears beginning to flush.

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Things I didn’t and never want to know. Disgusting. Hopefully he dies, so I don’t have to slit his throat instead.”

Looking out over the waves, she sighed suddenly defeated. “He will. If he survives, he’ll wish he was dead.”

Her brother came to sit next to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. They sat together listening to the waves until the stars began to fade, letting words that were unnecessary between them go unspoken.

The smell of gunpowder was acrid in her nostrils as Emma boarded the small merchant ship, landing with a thud. She pulled out her rapier and lit a fireball in her other hand that glowed with an unearthly shimmer of white light. The man before her looked horrified, and his knees shook as he fumbled to pull his own sword. He never got the chance, her rapier making quick work and spattering blood as she moved through the crew with little difficulty.

A sword nicked her shoulder, held by a portly man who sneered at her. “Witch! You pirate witch, I’ll see you hanged like the filth you are!”

Emma felt her shoulder throb, her magic pulsing in time with the pain. It flickered, and she tried to focus on parrying the saber this man kept slamming down towards her. She gritted her teeth, trying to hit this man with a blast that would knock him from her and give her some distance. Her magic wouldn’t comply, though. She tried healing her shoulder and ended up searing the wound.

“Emma! Get it together!” Zelena shouted, her own sword clanging as she took on a fight of her own.

The portly man slammed down over and over on her rapier, his saber blade much heavier, and Emma saw the strike coming in slow motion. She put both hands up, reaching deep and let go, her magic uncontrolled and wild. The man was blasted back, hitting a broken piece of wood with a wet smack. To her horror, her uncontrolled blast had also thrown a few of her crewmates.

She ran to help them as part of the merchant crew launched a boat with as much as they could carry. Zelena screamed orders, but with no dinghy to give chase immediately and both ships locked together, it was fruitless. When the rest of the merchant crew was dead, Zelena grabbed Emma by the hair and dragged her below deck.

“What was that? Control your magic! You could have killed us, and our haul would be cut because of your pure incompetence!” Zelena was livid, eyes shining. “You will be training with me at night as well as every afternoon, until you can wield your magic with pinpoint accuracy through any type of pain or distraction.”

Emma could only gulp and nod, Zelena’s rage practically turning her green.

The members of the merchant crew that escaped turned out to be a blessing in disguise, however.

Word spread of a female run ship sailing the sea with no quarter. One that had a witch with magic white as swan wings, an archer that could shoot a single snowflake, a quiet swordsman who didn’t mince his charming words, and a crazed captain that would spill anyone’s blood to get her pretty things.

News spread quickly, like wildfire through dry wood or a storm over rough seas.

It wasn’t a fortnight gone when they noticed the dot on the horizon, a fast moving ship in full regalia seeking nothing other than to end the threat posed. A navy frigate. Meri had spotted it while whittling a wooden bear in the crow’s nest whistling down to Fa. She and Fa seemed to share a code made of looks and small signals, practically reading each other’s minds. Emma wondered often if they had taken each other as sapphics, or common wives, but never cared to ask.

Emma still helped Granny in the morning, met with Walsh to her growing disdain and frustration, trained with Zelena, tended to her duties, kept the books and logged their goods, trained again with Zelena, did final nightly inspection, and then collapsed in bed for a few hours of sleep. The practice had Emma lit like a candle at both ends, unable to stop the flow of magic through her body. Her body felt worn, and magic crackled in her fingertips every morning as she chopped vegetables and fruits or kneaded dough.

Granny had taken to needing more help, to the point that David had started helping her clean up at night, occasionally with Snow keeping him company. Watching her brother bonding with someone else was a highlight for Emma. She loved to hear his low laughter as Snow talked to him, her legs swinging from her seat on the counter while she ate an apple.

Granny knew that she was struggling as well, and begged Emma to push Zelena to pick up her granddaughter who could help and fight as well - but Zelena wasn’t receptive to anything but fighting off the coming assault.

Several mornings to Emma’s delight, either her magic or the smell of onions on her skin had warded Walsh from some of his fouler acts. He’d also been less rough, and she held out hope that he was finally growing bored of her and her disinterest. As long as he had Zelena to stick his cock in and stay in her favor, he still got his special privileges. Emma did dread him ever saying anything about these forced trysts, and knew that if they did end, she could be in danger of blackmail or worse.

Zelena was unaware of anything but the coming battle. The fear consumed her, and she studied the Navy ship’s pattern as well as books on its form. It would have at least sixty guns, a large crew full of experienced forces, and have a sturdy build for defensive maneuvers. She’d laid out what spells she’d need, and Emma and her worked non-stop to make a working defense.

The first step was an invisibility powder and a protective charm. Then, they’d enchant the cannons for accuracy and to fire on their own. Finally, they needed to enchant weapons so they could hold an enchanted flame or freezing shock. Zelena didn’t want this fight; normally offensive, there was nothing to gain from battle, which left her on the defense. She wanted to scare these Navy men. Let them see the witches and the women with the flaming weapons. Let them see the men who served, and the grace they wielded a sword that chilled an enemy to the bone. Emma mixed satchels of herbs, gunpowder, and magical poultices which created smoke that would bring on sleep or paralyzation.

When the sun rose in reds and purples, Meri whistled to Fa, a loud and high pitched sound that twisted at the end. Fa ran to Zelena, waking her.

“Captain, there’s a second ship. It was following closely behind the first.” Fa gasped, hands on her knees.

Zelena’s reply was graceful and eloquent.

“Shit.”

They held their breath as the Navy ships approached, obviously confused. A ship disappearing was unheard of unless sailing in shipwrecked waters, and a ship as large as The Emerald Envy of Oz didn’t just lift off the face of the sea. That was, of course, part of Zelena’s plan. The ships stopped at a small, anchored dinghy, a dummy sitting prone in its curved hull. Zelena nodded to her crew, and they watched with weapons ready as the navy sent a small boat to survey the anchored decoy.

Emma waited for Zelena’s signal, biting her lip.

A man stepped into the dinghy, hauling the dummy up, and he waved a handkerchief. Zelena saluted Emma, and Emma took a deep breath. She felt every muscle in her body tense, and the crackle of her magic rose up through her hair, wind swirling around her.

The dummy exploded, blowing the man to smithereens, and spurting strange purple goo that covered both navy ships. It stretched like tentacles, the consistency of thick molasses. Terror swept through the crews, some men stuck in the concoction, others trying desperately to get them free while getting stuck themselves. Emma laughed with wry amusement when a high ranking official jumped off the side of the ship to escape a blob. Other men tried to hit the substance with anything they had around, finding it able to hold even the heaviest barrels in its viscous grip.

Emma’s hands filled with light again, and Zelena watched with ecstatic glee as she raised them while performing the enchantment, gold spreading to their cannons. It was done. Leaning back against the mast, Emma took deep breaths as sweat beaded her brow. Zelena in turn cast a quick charm on their weaponry, lighting them with her signature green flame. Emma pulled out her own rapier, letting it light green, and joined the line of her crew.

As their ship moved closer to the goo-covered frigate and its companion, Emma smiled at the names scrawled on their hulls, now obscured. The Jewel of the Realm, now the Ew th Ream in its jellied form, on one side and the larger ‘Feared Avenger’, its own letters also covered by goo, making it the Red Ven. Without a nullifying charm, they’d be stuck for days like this.

When they were close enough to the larger ship, Zelena gave Emma one last signal. With a wave of her hand, their cannons began their enchanted firing and the invisibility charm fell. Shouts and screams of pure horror filled the air, the Navy unprepared for this level of an ambush. Her fellow crew mates answered with a roar of war cries, enchanted blades shining in the sun, as they flew to board each of the ships. Emma landed on the Jewel of the Realm with a roll, expertly avoiding the goo, and slashing the first man that ran at her with ease. Parrying attack after attack and letting her sword start fires on the deck as well as on men’s uniforms, she showed her teeth in a wide leer. Men ran terrified, the captain shouting desperately.

Shoving her rapier through another man, she set her eyes on who she assumed was the captain of The Jewel and smiled a predatory grin. The captain was tall, had sandy, coppery blonde curls, and was broad with a muscular build. She had the vague sense she’d seen him somewhere before, but that didn’t matter in this moment. She headed towards him when an attack caught her off guard. She parried back, and her attacker spun, going high. Blocking with her rapier, she aimed a hard kick in his gut, and he fell to his knees. She went to cut his throat, tipping his chin up at her with the point of her blade, when he glared up at her. Neither of them could hide their shock.

“You!?” he said, blue eyes wide and angry. His mouth pulled back into a sneer. The lieutenant she had shared her body with, had warned of death, a self fulfilling prophecy.

“Me,” she said sadly, and let the point of her rapier press into his neck. A small dribble of blood ran down to pool in his collarbone, blooming red in his shirt. Every muscle in her body felt frozen, her mind screamed at her to end his life.

He closed his eyes, and she took a step back, arm raised and unsteady. Emma lowered her wrist, unable to fight a feeling of wrongness.

The captain barrelled in to her with a roar, and she was quickly under him. He had her shoulder pinned and blue eyes that were so like the dark haired man met hers. The brother. He groaned and paled as he looked at her face, his weight crushing her. She looked down and saw her rapier buried deep in his thigh, blood gushing in spurts from a wound that meant certain death.

“Liam!” The dark haired man pulled the giant off of her, rolling him on his back as the sandy haired man turned white. She watched as they held hands, the dark haired man cradling his brother’s head. “Stay with me, stay with me brother. Please, stay with me.”

“Killian, I…” His head lolled, and Emma could see the large man go into shock. His blood coated her hands. For the first time in many years, it made her feel sick.

Emma moved to his side, and ignored the man called Killian’s rage filled protests at her approach. She was vaguely aware that not only was this wrong, it was sheer lunacy on her part. Her body moved out of her volition without regard of why. She pulled her rapier from the bigger brother, Liam’s, thigh. Throwing it aside, it clattered against the deck as she held pressure to the soaked thigh below her hands. Emma felt a blade press against her neck, Killian against her back. Ignoring it, she focused on her magic, knowing she would need to pull from that golden thread to heal something this bad.

“You killed him, you killed him you bitch. I’ll cut your neck and send you straight to hell you demon -”

The spark ignited in her hands as Killian rasped in her ear. White light poured out of her hands, and she pressed on the wound harder, ignoring the bite of the steel. Liam groaned, color returning to his face, his chest heaving with slow effort. The hand at her neck fell away as the man’s wound closed into a faint scar.

She felt the sobs against her back as Liam’s eyes fluttered open. Killian scrambled back to his brother, hugging him tight, as the battle slowed around them and her crew began retreating now that the point had been made. Snow gave a bird call, and they began to return to the Oz.

Emma picked up her rapier, wiping it on her pants, and went to walk away. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked down to see Killian’s tear filled eyes.

“I don’t know why you did it, I don’t know how you did it -” He gulped down another sob. “Thank you. Thank you, for -”

“Fuck off, and quit the Navy. You got lucky this time.” Emma pulled away from him, and both brothers stared at her as she carefully swung back onto the Oz’s boarding planks.

David, Walsh, Fa, and Merida poured the prepared potion on the Avenger, releasing its sticky hold on the Jewel. There were minimal casualties, besides David losing part of his finger, and a nasty gash that Fa had on her cheek. Zelena had killed most of the naval crew, and those that had bailed bobbed in the water as she took up her mantle at the wheel. Emma steered the Oz away, and the Avenger followed. Commandeered for their use the sailors watched helplessly, swimming towards the Jewel to be fished out of the water. The Oz and crew now controlled a fleet.

The former captain of The Feared Avenger flopped on the Jewel’s deck, wet and raging mad. He had caught a glimpse of one attacker, a woman glowing gold as she flew through attackers without quarter. A demon from his past sent to punish him and test his worth.

Captain James Nolan’s dear little sister was a pirate, and she had magic.

#October 11th 2018 #csbb #csbb 2018 #captain swan big bang #riptide #Courtorderedcake writes #courtorderedcake #chapter II #mist #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan au #cs ff #cs au ff

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theessaflett · 5 years

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To All The Ghosts I’ve Loved Before: A Farewell Letter to 53a

Written by Elisabeth Flett

Elisabeth perches on the bed mid-move, March 2019.

How do you say goodbye to something that can’t say goodbye back?

That was the question I found myself asking as stood in the middle of my boxed-up flat, my beloved home for the last four years.

To understand the magnitude of this impossible farewell we need to go back to June 2015, when a unhappy, stressed-out 19 year old first stepped inside 53a. Like so many other second year university students these days I was emerging battered and shaken from a disastrous flat-share, my fresher’s week hopes and dreams of a rosy uni experience from the year before long since gone. I was out of my depth, winging it and wearing my best jacket and quite a lot of make-up in the hope that the estate agent wouldn’t realise that I was still a teenager. Nightmarish images of the truly uninhabitable hovels I’d viewed the previous year with my soon-to-be new flatmates had played in my mind on the bus journey there, as had all the warnings from concerned friends that moving into a flat on my own would be a terrible idea. What would happen if I was burgled? What about if I became horribly ill and needed someone to look after me? As I stood there in the empty flat, the estate agent hovering impatiently next to me, I could see that at least the worry of this place being a hovel wasn’t going to be an issue. Okay sure, there were some cracks and peeling paint here and there, but compared to the underground basement off Brick Lane I remembered viewing in 2014 (no windows, mouldy sofa and nuclear bomb-site worthy toilet…the most worrying part was that I genuinely considered it as a possibility because we were so desperate) it was practically a paradise. The shower was in the main room. The toilet was in a tiny cupboard so small that you couldn’t really shut the door if you sat down on the loo.

It wasn’t much. But it would be mine, and mine alone.

“I’d like to put a deposit on the flat,” I said, trying to feel like an adult but only succeeding in feeling like a child pretending to be a grown-up. A truly terrifying amount of money passed hands, and that was it. I was moving into my first ever studio flat. Sure, it was on the same street as two strip clubs and next to a kebab shop, a nightclub and a taxi delivery service, but what could go wrong? Single living, here I came.

It seemed like a great idea until the first night on my own. Lying there terrified, I listened to every creak, every grumble from the traffic, and was convinced that a hundred axe-wielding murderers lay in wait outside my front door. What was that noise from the landing outside? Should I call the police? My parents, wearily supportive, took my hysterical whispered 1am phone call with good grace but suggested that since this was going to be my living situation for the foreseeable future I should find some way to cope with these entirely irrational fears of horror movie break-ins. Thankfully, it didn’t end up being a big problem; one night of not being hacked to pieces was all it took for me to settle down to the idea that I probably wasn’t going to be horribly murdered in my sleep. It was just as well, as not long afterwards I had my first real nighttime “Situation”…

Picture the scene. You’re nineteen. You’ve recently moved into a flat, on your own, into a part of London you don’t know. For all the above reasons, you’re a bit on edge anyway. And then, at 2am, you’re woken by an almighty crash. I’m talking loud. You lie there, wide awake, hoping that it was part of your dream. And then you hear it. The ominous hhhhssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

Worried now, you get up, turn a light on, blearily searching for the hissing noise whilst still mostly asleep. You grew up in a house with a gas cooker so in your sleep-ridden state you first check the electric hobs for any suspicious smells, then when that unsurprisingly doesn’t give you any clues you check the boiler in the hallway. It’s not that either. At a loss, you then step into the tiny toilet cupboard, noticing the floor is wet. Something has broken in the toilet, maybe? You idly notice a can of air freshener on top of the toilet cistern, move it out of the way. And then, very dramatically, the bookshelf on the wall - the one your father built himself but didn’t screw in quite enough, the one that had fallen directly down onto the air freshener can and by some mad, wild law of physics was balancing on its nozzle head, causing the air freshener to spray all over the bathroom, the one that now with no air freshener can beneath it continued its downwards trajectory - came crashing down onto my head, with all its contents along with it. Dazed, I lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, surrounded by broken bits of bookcase and battered paperbacks, and mused that this was definitely not on the list of things people had warned me about.

Some of the challenges I had to cope with were a little more expected, if entirely unwelcome.

I have, embarrassingly enough for someone who grew up in the countryside, a very real phobia of rodents, and discovering that I had a few mice for visitors in the winter of 2015 was enough to send me in a state of terror that I found very embarrassing but could do nothing to ease. My Top Two Least Dignified Mice Moments over the years were probably when A) a mouse ran across my floor and I screamed hysterically into the phone to a friend who had to then talk me down from the chair I’d jumped on when spotting the offending rodent, and was still stuck on despite the mouse having run off half an hour previously. B) was a little more traumatising; finding a dead mouse next to my kitchen bin and finding out that I couldn’t “pick it up and put it in the bin” as my Grandma impatiently suggested when I phoned her…because my knees actually gave out when I tried to pick it up and I just fell over whilst hyperventilating. Another London friend of mine very kindly rushed over and came to my aid. I was so grateful I even forgave her when she waved it towards me going,” Look, it’s all stiff!”

Various challenges came up over the years: the time that water came through the light fittings and dripped from doorways because a water tank on the roof had burst; the time that water came through the kitchen ceiling; the time that the toilet upstairs leaked into my Toilet Cupboard…three times in four weeks, but who’s counting; the time that my shower, fridge, washing machine and tap all broke in the space of a month; the time that the creepy guy next door tried to persuade me to take him in as a roommate despite there only being one bed in my flat; the time that the floor started to move; the very scary time a group of drugged up guys were hanging out outside the front door and wouldn’t let me in; the time I was stuck in bed with flu for three days and, as warned by those friends when I first moved in, I indeed had to crawl to the sink myself rather croak out a request for water to someone else. The front door was regularly graffitied. The electricity meter could only be topped up by a easily losable key card. The stairs creaked, and got steadily more creaky over the years, the front door lock broke more times than I can count and the street fights stopped being exotic entertainment and starting just being annoying within the first few months. I hadn’t quite anticipated the sheer level of noise the combination of shops and venues on my street would bring, and the long summer nights full of boomboxes blaring at 3am, screamed arguments about who sold who the wrong type of crack and people vomiting onto the pavement outside the apartment were not my favourite times at 53a. By 2016 I was in a relationship and my girlfriend at the time was not at all as keen as I was about seeing the whole thing as an exciting observation on modern society. “I think someone’s being stabbed,” she would darkly mutter to me as we lay in bed trying to sleep despite the traffic noise blaring outside. “There’s not enough screaming,” I would mutter back with a yawn. “That’s just your average fight. Go back to sleep.” “I would if there wasn’t about fifty cars beeping outside your window. Oh, and now there’s a street cleaning lorry too. I can’t wait for you to move.”

In the end it was our relationship that moved on before I moved out of the flat, but having a second opinion on 53a did cast a few small doubts in my mind about the place. Was the traffic a little too unreasonable? Were the nighttime brawls a little too regular? Despite these musings I continued to love my little hide-away, my safe haven from the world.

How to describe 53a? 53a was:

chipped green paint

neon light

creak of floorboards

lamplight casting soft shadows at 1am

Radio 2 Jazz programmes and the smell of incense

overground train rumble

afternoon sunlight streaming through dusty windows

mug balanced on bed, laptop open

candle flickering, polaroids on kitchen tiles

evenings full of laughter, mornings full of sleep

first hellos

last goodbyes.

This flat was always so much more to me than just a place to live. It was where I rebuilt myself, where I found the bits and pieces of my soul that had got lost, trampled and hidden along the way during the previous years and painfully, painfully, dragged them back to me until I was whole once more. It was the backdrop for my first love, and my first heartbreak. It saw dinner parties, welcome parties, leaving parties, parties where no-one showed up and parties where everyone showed up and brought a bottle of rum with them for good measure. It was where I practised for my final exams, where I decided what to wear for my first day at work, where I celebrated one year out of university, then two. This place has heard many words, some hard, some soft, and many ghosts live inside these walls.

It was the ghosts, in the end, who helped me decide to leave.

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It’s a difficult thing, leaving. Not for everyone, of course - there are some people out there who find change exciting, crucial to how they live their life. I am not one of them. Or rather; I feel like people who say that they like change just don’t notice enough about the world around them.

It’s almost impossible to “like change” if you begin to take note of every single little thing that is rudely adjusted around you, without the slightest warning or heads-up.

What do you think of when you think of an example of “change”? Chances are it’s something big.

Moving to a different job, maybe. Getting married. Or something a little smaller, like getting a new haircut. This is what I’ll call the “top tier” of change, and it’s the only tier that a lot of people notice as they go about their lives. There are, however, other levels below that “top tier”. Things that, if you’re me, clump together to make life just a little more hard to cope with, just a little bit more stressful.

For instance:

If the old bus stop pole that I’m used to seeing every morning has been replaced by a new, less dented bus stop pole, the seat I usually take has someone else sitting in it, the train comes at 8:57 rather than 8:55, the chair I like in the cafe I always go to has been moved to another table, there’s a different person from normal on the check-out and they’ve changed an ingredient in the drink I always get, I find out that the podcast I listen to on Tuesdays has started releasing new episodes on Wednesdays instead and then I get an email informing me that an upcoming rehearsal I was expecting to happen in one venue has been moved to a different venue that I’ve never been to before… That, for me, is a very stressful morning. Now, take that level of what I’m going to call Change Stress and apply it to something as enormous as moving house, especially from somewhere that has as much meaning for me as 53a. It took the front door breaking again, the thought of yet another summer listening to dubstep outside my window at 3am and a really stellar flat showing to convince me that it was time, but here I was. Moving for the first time in four years. And boy, it was hard work.

My moving house priorities would have seemed very odd to people helping me organise and pack my belongings. (…If they hadn’t been my aforementioned long-suffering parents, that is.) When there’s such a big uncontrollable change looming over someone as change-phobic as I am, I tend to bury into tiny details and get very annoyingly intense about them being just right. “No, the tea lights go in the left hand corner of this box! We need to unpack everything again now. No no we can’t pack the radio there, it’s the third item that I’m going to put on my desk, next to the pen pot and opposite that picture frame!!!” A total slide into insanity and Change Stress are hard to differentiate.

“I was walking around my East Village neighbourhood…you know…you live so much life in these very small blocks, and these routes that you take every day…You grow so much, you know, when you think about who you’ve been in this tiny amount of space… you’re living with the ghosts of yourself.”

The singer St Vincent might have been talking about her time in NYC East Village when she spoke these words in an GQ interview about her song New York, but they resonated with me as I watched the YouTube video in early 2019 sitting on my bed in London. It occurred to me that I was also surrounded by ghosts; both ghosts of myself and ghosts of people I had met, been friends with, fallen out of friendship with or had simply drifted away as folk tend to do at the end of university. The streets surrounding my flat were filled with memories, both good and bad, and 53a itself was groaning with the weight of so much life lived under one roof. 2015 was a long time ago, I realised. Everyone else in the polaroids on my wall from parties now long over seemed to have moved on. I should move on too. To have new experiences, to make new memories, and, in time, to make new ghosts.

Now, as the spring sunlight of March streamed through the windows of 53a, I looked around at the boxes and crates and felt a sense of profound loss mixed in with the fatigue and stress of moving and the excitement of what was to come. There was one more thing that I needed to do.

I laid a hand on the wall, breathed in the smell of wood, paint and dust. “Thank you,” I whispered.

It may have just be my imagination but I’m sure, just for a second, that I felt a slight energy through my fingertips, an acknowledgement of my farewell.

Maybe 53a could say goodbye, after all.

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tearuntold · 7 years

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POSITIVITY TAG 🌻

I was tagged by my love @holy-jinsus to write 10 positive things that happend in 2017. I am pretty sure we all can agree on the fact that 2017 was just the shitty expansion pack of 2016, thank Jinsus it’s over! So I am even happier to see that, even though your year was probably the worst so far (same btw), I could make it a little bit better! I love you 💕💕

Rules: Write 10 positive things that happened in 2017, then tag several people that you hope have an amazing 2018!!

I don’t want to flood anyone with this long ass storytimes, so everyone who wants to can read below the cut. 🌺

1. So the best thing by far is my new job! In the beginning of the year I isolated myself a lot and didn’t really leave the house, but eventually I decided that I need a job, because I want money (who doesn’t) and some people around me. Fortunately the first shop I went to and asked if they need someone accepted me after a day of trial work. I really wanted to work there since I love being there, and it ended up being a truly wonderful job that I still love doing now!

2. Due to my job I met a lot of amazing people and found new friends who I really appreciate. First of all, all my coworkers are angels and I get along with everyone really well. Even our chef is the most adorable bun ever so we are a little bit like family. Adding to that there are a lot of regular costumers who I chat with every time they come over and even found some friends in them.

3. Okay, so this might sound weird, but I went to IKEA (not sponsored lmao) with my dad. And it was the first time that I ever went there to buy a bunch of stuff for my own, with my own money. You know as a kid when you go to any kind of store you always have to ask your parents if they can buy you something, or if you need a new bed whatever, they decide wich one you take, because they can say ‘no’ if they think it’s too expensive. So this time I went there and bought some new bookshelfs, plants and other stuff to redecorate my room and organize my stuff better. And when we got to the checkout I was the one with a full cart who paid over a hundred euro and my dad was the one who got himself like a 5€ plant. I don’t know, it just made me really happy.

4. My grandma got 80 this year so she invited a lot of people from our family and her closest friends for a bigger birthday party at her favourite cafe. And I really like her and most part of that family so I was happy to go there. Fortunately I ended up sitting with all the old people, my greatuncle, greataunts and some childhood friends from my grandma. They told a lot of fun stories from their childhood, how it was growing up together like family during the war and so on. I could listen to these stories for days, it just makes me so happy to see them so full of joy telling how it was even though times were rough. Before we left I talked a bit more with my greatuncle alone and as we had to leave he told me how happy he is to see me smiling and talking so lively with people, because I used to talk only rarely and just...sit there. This just really made me realise that I changed, in a good way.

5. I visit my angel Linda aka @holy-jinsus every few weeks for a day or 5 and we just chill, watch videos or do nothing together which is always wonderful, but I remember one day in particular. I am not sure when it was exactly but we just casually watched some yt videos at 3am and randomly this weird looking BTS video was recommended where they just put this filter over the video, where everything in the middle is zoomed in, like a bubble. I am sure if you ever watched any kind of crack or meme video you know what effect I am talking about. Anyways, we ended up laughing so god damn hard, that we felt like dying and even though this video probably wasn’t even that funny, it was to us in that moment. And I just love laughing with her you know.

6. Late november I finally had my appointment at the tattoo studio to get, who would have guessed, some new tattoos. I waited 8 months for this and I was just so happy as it was done! They were my biggest ones so far, so I was a little bit concerned how I would handle getting stabbed for hours, but it was way better than I expected. And the result is everything I ever wanted!

7. This Tumblr blog happened! I started it late december, but it still counts to 2017. Even though I’ve been on this website for I don’t know how many years, it’s the first time that I really invest so much time and effort into creating content and posting it. And actually it’s the first time for me to interact with people here that I don’t know in real life. This ‘mutual thing’ was always something I didn’t really understand, but OH LORD THIS GIRL MISSED OUT ON SOMETHING. Now that I am in this community of people who share so much love and positivity I can’t help but feel better and every time I see someone new tagging or messaging me my heart just explodes, because I am still too shy to message someone on my own.

8. BTS had their most successful year ever, and that is literally all I could have asked for. It just makes me so proud to see them getting all the awards they deserve for their unbelievable hard work. I think I don’t have to say more regarding this topic since I am sure you all feel the same way and know exactly what I mean when I say that I can’t form my feelings for them into words. And please let them rest, good lord have mercy!

9. Over the year I also fell in love with so many new artists and groups that sometimes I couldn’t even decide what I want to listen to because there were just too many good songs! Music in general has always been the best way for me to express my feelings, so when I find something that represents what emotional state I am in I feel complete. Two albums that really saved my life the last year were ‘Muggle’s Mansion’ by Code Kunst and ‘We’ve done something wonderful’ by Epik High. I recommend these to literally everyone. Really.

10. Finally, to end this hell of a year I went to Linda aka @holy-jinsus to celebrate new years eve. I brought her favourite cookie dough so she could form them and another friend ouf ours made some heavenly delicious food (and cocktails). So we just had a relaxed evening, enjoyed the selfmade food and waited for this god damn year to finally end. The best part was definetly that we turned on ‘Mic Drop’ at an exact time, so that the “Mic Mic Bungee” part was exactly at 0 o’clock. Then we just continued to blast out the classic BTS party songs and it was so healing to just weirdly dance and scream the vocal and rap parts together, starting 2018 in the best way possible.

This was a lot, I am sorry, but I just wish all of you a wonderful 2018. We’re still at the beginning so even though it still might be shit right now it can definetly get better! So I would like to tag @namjoon-moon, @amaryllistae, @crunchtrash, @taehyungiesvalentine, @taeshik, @slutdropjin, @j1nsgf and @taetaez. Of course you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to! 💞

#games

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unbeast · 7 years

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Cute Tags

I was tagged by @cafedetude, keep em comin, these are fun xx

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? more cereal; use just enough milk for the cereal to soak up

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? no!

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? usually receipts, sometimes postcards/birthday cards in envelopes

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? tea: only if I’m sick and just with honey coffee: I just like iced capps

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? sometimes, if I overthink it. The left side around my mouth isn’t as mobile so it looks stiff and awkward, and also there are these two veins or something on either side of my face that move towards my eyes when I smile and it looks very disturbing

6: do you keep plants? oh shit I forgot I have one, haven’t watered that thing in about 3 weeks

7: do you name your plants? no, sorry “that thing”

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? drama

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? I don’t like to sing because it hurts my ears when I do, but I like to dramatically deliver song lyrics. Humming usually leads to me getting too riled up so I often steer clear of that

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? side!

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? The first one that comes to mind is “Sarahhhh” aka the reenactment of Max not knowing what to do when his kayak is sinking

12: what’s your favorite planet? venus, baby

13: what’s something that made you smile today? a scene in the final episode of Stranger Things 2 that I can’t mention now because it’s still too soon

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? semi-bohemian, cozy, clean

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! “Saturn is the only planet in the solar system that would float on water”

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? homemade lasagna

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? blue

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. the time I gifted tampons with christmas jokes attached to the strings

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? Yes, there’s your classic recap, poems, dumb questions, favorites lists, to-read/watch lists, semi-collages

20: what’s your favorite eye color? “The kind of green that doesn't make a big deal about itself” which has... ugh okay for years now, this description of Sam’s eyes from Perks, it just. You know what eyes he’s talking about

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. my topshop bag. It’s the first thing I purchased from topshop, and it ignited my addiction to the brand

22: are you a morning person? yes, metaphysically(?) (lol) I like doing things in the morning because time seems slower and I feel more productive and energized. Waking up’s the challenge tho

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? swingset

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? no

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? is this a common thing people do??

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? ehhhh I’m not too fond of any one of my shoes right now but grade 10 through 11 I was overly attached to one pair of indoor soccer shoes that I used as everyday sneakers

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? bubblegum

28: sunrise or sunset? sunrise

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? their laugh!! Makes me so happy, can’t help but laugh along

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? proximity to wasps, walking across a valley on a rusty pipe with low guardrails

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. love socks!! I have to sleep with socks because I get cold at night and if my skin is exposed, I get sick. I like comfortable, just-below-ankle-length athletic socks, would like to invest in some that I could wear my vans with w/o the socks showing because otherwise, socks makes my calves look bulbous when I wear skirts/dresses/shorts

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. we had a really deep talk and sappy declarations of friendship

33: what’s your fave pastry? AHH! STAHHP, I could’ve dropped my ______

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? Lami! A sweet little lamb I got from the dollar store when I first moved to Canada, very precious and dear to me. Carried her to school until grade four because I was scared there’d be a fire at my house and she’d die. I still keep her, of course!!

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? yes, love stationary n pens! But never buy because, money. :/

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? tame impala

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? it’s so, so messy. I hate it! I like things clean but I just never have time to sort through it and it piles up and :( I’m disgusting

38: tell us about your pet peeves! when, in the winter, you have a scarf wrapped around your neck and then the wind keeps blowing it behind your shoulder so it’s softly choking you

39: what color do you wear the most? black

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? I have a troy bolton necklace that I believe Joyce got me for my birthday in, I want to say grade four or five. It’s perfect

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? Ender’s Game

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! Tim Hortons near the mall, makes the best hashbrowns and the iced capps are perfect balance of coffee and milk and ice, just A+

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? my roommate, on our walk home

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? on the skytrain, moments before I looked through an open apartment window and saw a naked girl flopping down onto a mattress, followed by a nude man jumping ontop of her like a flying squirrel. The illusion was shattered (yes, this actually happened and it was a lot to process)

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? no !!!! never ever ever

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. I was wondering why the baseball kept coming closer and closer, and then it hit me!

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? This spinach dish my mum makes with an egg on top? It’s slimy, and it’s a no from me

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? I was scared of fish up until age 5 I believe, my grandma used to cut out paper fishies and flush them down the toilet to try and help me get over that fear. Now its probably... oof I can’t think of any atm but there’s soooo many

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? yes, I most recently purchased an After Laughter cd and cassette, I’m stoked

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? journals that I never use

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? I associate the twinkling at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere” with Shalla

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? homeboy can like... get it, me talking about myself vs me talking about ______, there’s LOTS but I just can’t remember :’(

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? I’ve seen all!

RHPS: I’m “eh” towards the movie itself but the atmosphere of seeing it in a theatre is the best fucking experience!!! This weekend I went to a shadowcast for Halloween second year in a row, thinking of making it annual :)

Heathers: can quote it start to finish as though it were a favorite song, love this movie

beetlejuice: it’s good, Winona Ryder is such a gem, and the scene with the banana boat song is cinematic gold

pulp fiction: it’s good, not a favorite but I can appreciate it

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? can’t think of anyone rn

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? everything I do is dramatic, every point I’ve made has been made dramatically

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? genuine, genuine, genuine

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? made me feel loosey goosey, and yes

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? hi yes this is vodka aunt speaking, I like vodka. Wine mom is no one because wine tastes horrible

59: what’s your favorite myth? I’ve never looked into myths, but Medusa just sounds like a riot

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? yes, poetry is nice, but it’s rare I find ones I really am a fan of

I like listening to T.S. Elliot read his four quartets and "Pins and Needles" by Dua Saleh

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? given: a tween magazine that I decorated with obscene language that ended up being secret-santaed to my theatre director. Received? Probably a shirt with a picture of a random blonde girl saying “nevermind” from my mom (sorry mom)

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? if I need refreshing wake up call, I’ll drink OJ

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? My bookshelf is organized by favorites, idc about my music

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? midnight blue at 10 pm

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? lotssss

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? any collection of flowers that are all white, or a collection of colors that are moody and vampy

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? heavy, like I’m walking in water

68: what’s winter like where you live? hopefully no snow this year or ever

69: what are your favorite board games? Translated, it’s called “get angry, man” but essentially it’s Sorry

70: have you ever used a ouija board? no

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? I haaaaate teaaaaa but chamomile if I HAVE to drink some when I’m sick

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? yes

73: what are some of your worst habits? ripping the skin off around my nails, biting my nails

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. genuine

75: tell us about your pets! I HAVE A BIRD NAMED CHARLIE AND HE IS TOO COOL FOR ME

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? a cog psy assignment

77: pink or yellow lemonade? pink, aesthetically; yellow flavourfully(?)

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? If I don’t ever see an unironic facebook minion meme ever again, I can tolerate them

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? can’t remember :( lots of cute things done by lots of cute people but I have a horrible memory

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? grey, no

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. you know the blue in Blue from Blue’s Clues’ fur, well that

82: are/were you good in school? I was, now I’m not

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? ahhhh can’t think of any. I’m sure I will literally 2 seconds after I post this

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? no, I’m too indecicive and I can’t commit

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? I don’t, used to read archie digests though

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? yeah, as a concept (AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA)

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Bad Genius, Moonlight, Donnie Darko, The Matrix, What We Do In The Shadows

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? idk anything about art

89: are you close to your parents? not that close but i love em

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. Vancouver, love everything

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? hopefully my family and I can vacation this year, it’s been a while

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? drownnn

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? just down

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? @millport

95: what are your plans for this weekend? this past HALLOWEEKEND I went to a frat party, saw a shadowcast of rocky horror, and spent time with good friends :) Next weekend sucks, I’m studying.

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? procrastinate

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INFJ

Libra

Slytherin

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? would have been a long time ago, summer after grade 9. The hike was for five days and I was super sick, so I couldn’t realy heal properly. Plus, my period just started so everything felt shit. But overall I loved it lmao

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. semi charmed life! Not because my soul is like “ooh, meth” but it’s just a perfect song

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? past, so I could have the power to completely change my present

I tag @kabul1998 and anyone who is up for some tag-answering

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