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mccoymccoymccoy · 3 years

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Riker - No Drinks

A/N I KNOW a shift on enterprise d wouldn’t end at 1900 yes i looked at the shift times but… it’s my story and i wanted you to get off at 1900 so for god’s sake you’re getting off at 1900.

Edit: forgot ten forward doors slide open LOL changed that line.

Word count: 2399

“Doctor!”

You spun on your heel away from the ensign you were advising, snapping to attention to greet your commanding officer. You had to try really hard not to be too casual- Riker had such a friendly face and demeanor. It may be okay for him to be casual with his crew, he’s earned it, but you’re not commanding officer. You’re the head of the science department.

“Yes, sir?” You replied, meeting his eyes. He smiled. “Ease up, Doc. I was just coming to ask if you’d care to head over to Ten Forward after your shift for a drink.”

Huh? Why would he want to get a drink with you? He’s your superior officer, as you just reminded yourself. You did recognize that being the head of the science department aboard a galaxy class ship was a pretty big deal, but your self esteem had never been that high, and you tended to greatly overlook your worth. Taking a second to add that to the equation to solve the question of why would he ask me why would he ask me, you concluded that he may want to learn more about what’s going on in your department. Maybe he’s interested in the specs of the volcanic rock you had him beam aboard for you and your team to study the other day. This all ran through your head at the speed of a blink, and you responded, “Of course, sir. I’ll be off at 1900, will that be okay?” He grinned. “Great. I’ll see you there, then.”

“Aye, sir,” you finalized as he turned and walked back in the direction he came. Such a quick visit. Had he really waited for a peaceful minute in the bridge to run down to you? Why not use the comm? Sighing, you turned as well, facing the ensign once again who had started giggling by the end of the quick encounter- She saw how flustered you’d gotten, despite not showing it to the commander. Behind your back, however, the skin around your nails was being picked raw, all for the ensign to notice. You sighed again, this time at her, trying and failing to keep from smiling. “Hush, ensign. Let’s get back to the lab.”

The rest of the day seemed to slip away from you like the beaker from your hands earlier. You had zoned out, something incredibly unusual for you. But then again, it was incredibly unusual for the commanding officer of the ship to invite you out for a drink after work! Let alone one you already happened to find particularly intriguing and attractive! The beaker was empty, thankfully, but still a bit of a hassle to clean up. “I’m off,” you called from the doorway, nodding in the direction of the ensign from earlier. She giggled and waved you away, and you finally set out for Ten Forward.

Regardless of the actual temperature, it always felt warm in there- it had such a positive atmosphere, as the only place people could truly relax most of the time. You entered quietly, trying to not disturb the dim and hum. Guinan smiled at you warmly as you walked by, which you returned, of course. Wouldn’t be the same without her here. Looking back in front of you, you instantly spotted Commander Riker sitting at a table close by, a drink in hand and one waiting on the opposite side for you. He looked pretty like a statue sitting there, lit up from the glowing table. You swallowed hard and tried to shove those thoughts out of your head.

“Y/N! Hey. Glad you came, I was getting worried you wouldn’t show.”

You tried not to blush as you slipped your lab coat from your shoulders and onto the back of your chair as you sat down. “And disobey my commanding officer? I think not,” you laughed. His usual pep faded for a moment, face growing slightly solemn. “Is that how you see this?”

That damn equation started running through the halls of your minds again. Commander. Friend? Superior officer. Date? You looked down. “Well, sir, I thought maybe you had called me here to ask about how it’s going in my department. Did I think wrong?”

The smile returned to his face slightly, chuckling lightly before responding: “It’s not a work matter, Y/N. I was actually hoping to get to know you a little better, to be friends. I mean, if that includes talking about work, then that’s alright too, I just-” your chin tilted back up and to the side slightly, a confused look. “Friends?” So he did want to be friends? It makes sense, rationally. You were technically a very crucial person onboard, despite mostly keeping to yourself.

“Yes, friends. What’s wrong with that?” You looked down again. Friends. Friends!

“Nothing, sir, just surprised is all. I thought you only liked to hang out with your bridge crew.”

“I like to hang out with them because they’re there with me. If you had work on the bridge, I’d want to hang out with you. And hey, not at work. No ‘sir’. You can call me Will.”

The man emanated a warmth unlike one you’ve ever felt. You smiled at him, leaning back into your chair and finally taking your drink. You raised it to your mouth, but asked before sipping, “Alright then, Will. What were you hoping to learn about me?” He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, at a loss. God, that was hot. “Christ, Y/N, never made friends before? You act like this is an interrogation.”

“A little direction would be nice, sir-” you shook your head, smirking as you met his eyes. “Will.”

He smiled that ever-charming smile, and his eyes seemed to glitter with what could’ve been anything- curiosity, wonder, lust? It didn’t matter in the moment. Leaning back, holding his glass by the rim, his voice suddenly seemed to be the only one in the room. “Okay then, how about this: What are you doing here? Why did you join Starfleet?”

Once he had gotten you talking, the only was he could shut you up was to talk in return and tell you about himself. The two of you continued like that for a couple hours until yawns started to invade every sentence, and Will had decided it best you called it a night. It was so exciting, you didn’t expect him to be so interesting! Cool, of course, but not all cool people are interesting. Will Riker was cool and interesting, and damn good-looking to boot. He had asked you all about what went on in the labs on a daily basis- considering he practically runs the ship, he did already know what happens, but he asked what you do specifically. On a daily basis, for fun, as challenges. He asked what places have been your favourite to visit, or rather maybe, get samples to study from. He asked what makes you tick and what unwinds you. Beyond that, he answered every one of his own questions and yours. You knew how he’d been offered his own ship but passed it up to stay here. You knew about how he loved jazz and played trombone and piano. You knew about how cunning he had grown to be in poker, how he’d outwit everyone at the table in the weekly matches, and even taught classes on it.

The door to your quarters slid open, and as soon as you stepped inside you leaned back against the wall. How could you get so tired from just talking? It was late, sure, but you spent extra hours in the lab all the time. Maybe because of the dim lighting in Ten Forward? Or, more likely, the synthehol he seemed to be pumping into you. Perhaps he forgot he was a walking fridge, and you were not. You exhaled heavily, doing your best to take off your shoes and drag yourself to bed, and as soon as you got there it was as if you’d been hit by a tranquilizer.

Many, many hours later- unknown to you, sleeping- the door chirped. It was well past your shift start, and someone seemed to have taken it upon themself to go check on you. The door chirped again, and was followed by a couple quick knocks. Met with no response, the knocker came in- what if you were hurt? Better to be safe and check, right?

Riker entered your room. Over his arm was your lab coat, which you’d left in Ten Forward the night before by accident. Stepping cautiously, he said softly: “Hello? It’s Will.” He placed the jacket over the back of a chair at your table. “Y/N?” He called out, louder this time. You rustled-

OW. You were instantly met with the signature hangover headache, cringing and scrunching your nose in pain. Hissing, you squinted at the door arch of your room, and slid off the side of your bed. Riker looked in the doorway and saw you, shuffling towards him, messy haired and wrinkly-clothed, and smiled. Huh? What’s the commanding officer doing in your quarters?

“Oh no. Back to bed with you,” he said gently. What? You did your best to stand up straight while running a hand through your hair. “Commander. What are you doing here?” A pained groan escaped despite your best efforts to appear alright. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently hold onto your arms to make sure you stayed upright. His eyes didn’t lock onto you anywhere, rather flickered all around your face as if scanning you. He looked at you thoughtfully, and responded, “You left your coat on your chair last night, I came to bring it back. You didn’t answer the door so I, and excuse me, let myself in to make sure you were okay. You’re not. Go back to sleep, Y/N.” He half guided, half pushed you back to sitting on your bed. “I’m not fine, but I’ve been worse. I’ve got to get to the lab now, probably. What time is it?” Your head was in your hands at this point. Will was walking away from you, and it made you sad for some reason- you wanted him near you. You didn’t know until he had been, but now you did.

“You’re not going to work, Doctor. You’ve got the day off today.” Your eyes darted up and you opened your mouth to object, but he cut you off right as your face twisted with pain- “My orders. Lay down.” Figuring you may as well take the opportunity, you complied. He walked back over with a hypospray and used it on you, causing the pain to almost entirely disappear immediately. You closed your eyes to enjoy the relief for a moment, and felt the bed dip next to you. Your eyes flitted open, and Riker was sitting there on the edge smiling, reaching out and petting your hair. “Commander? What are you doing?” His smile dropped slightly. “How much of last night do you remember?”

You closed your eyes again. You went to the bar. You talked. You had a drink. You had another drink, and another. Rubbing your temples, you sighed. “I remember drinking, but that’s obvious. I remember talking. Laughing. You were very pleasant, as far as I can tell. What happened?” He shifted on the bed, facing you better. “We really got to know each other, Y/N. And for that I’m glad. But if you can’t remember, I’d be more than willing to give it another go.”

His eyes had an unexplainable sort of glitter to them, as if he was really excited about what he was saying. Oh man, what did you say? You knew your headache would come back if you thought about it too hard, so you asked: “Sir, did I say anything I should know about?”

His features softened yet again, a seemingly impossible feat. He moved his hand from the crook of your neck to reach down and hold one of your hands, which in your groggy, sore state, confused you even more. “Well,” he started, barely above a whisper, “you did agree to call me Will now. And then we talked for hours. And…” He trailed off, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb. His hands were a lot bigger than yours, and it provided a sort of comfort you wouldn’t have been able to explain if asked.

“And?”

“And, well, you said you thought you might love me.”

“I think I could.” It slipped out. Your eyes widened immediately, and you felt your face flush what was probably a deeper red than his shirt. It just slipped out! You barely knew him! Tearing your hand away from his, you brought both of them up to cover your face. “I’m sorry sir, that just slipped out, I, I’m sure it’s the headache, I-” He chuckled softly, and you peeked through your fingers. “Huh?”

“You’re adorable, you know that?” You stopped peeking and blushed harder.

“Hey.” He gently took your hands away from your face and held them both, tightly this time. “I think I might love you too.”

“Sir, er- Will,” you corrected, trying to look anywhere but him, “I hate to be frank, but we barely know each other, At least, I don’t remember getting to know you very well. Love is entirely the wrong word. Sure I like you, but one night isn’t much to go off of, and you’re my superior officer, and-”

And he kissed you. Still holding your hands, he brought them close to his chest, and pressed against you ever so slightly. He pulled away, once again smiling down at you, and once again presenting a whole new level of what now appeared to be love. “Everything’s alright. People date for a reason, right? To get to know each other and see if they’re a good fit?” You nodded, doe eyed and starstruck. “Well, Y/N. Would you care to head over to Ten Forward for a date tomorrow?” He had mimicked his initial invitation. You nodded again, grinning, still in a bit of a shock over all of this. He returned your grin and ruffled your hair before standing up and turning to leave.

You grabbed his hand- “No drinks this time though, yeah?”

“No drinks.”

#Riker x reader #will riker #william riker #william t. riker #star trek #star trek x reader #will riker x reader #will riker imagine #william riker imagine #riker imagine #star trek imagine

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writing-anomaly · 5 years

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Torn

Fandom: Jojolion

Summary: Yasuho’s life is tearing at the seams. The volatile Rokakaka trade is catching up to them and when Josuke unravels, Yasuho is pushed to her limit. She’s left more vulnerable than ever as she struggles to protect two men who barely know her.

This a story in which the protected must become the protector.

Chapter 6

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Trigger Warning: References of suicide in this chapter.

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"Excuse me. I'm looking for Kaito Yamada."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I'm his....daughter."

Yasuho practically choked on the words. She made a note to bleach her mouth out later; she needed to purify herself from uttering such a blasphemous statement.

She walked the short distance to the hospital for the sake of appeasing her mother. The building was midway on her route to class so she passed by there regularly. For her own sanity, she usually preferred to walk on the opposite side of the street from the medical facility.

Focusing on the birds singing amongst cherry blossoms helped to keep her mind from reliving memories she'd rather forget. Yasuho had been a patient there only once that she could remember.

..When she'd tried to commit suicide as a child, after her dad left home.

The divorce had wreaked havoc on her heart. During the separation process, her father tried to visit regularly in an effort to maintain her a sense of normalcy. Her heart lit up every time he came. But when he left...her fire would die down into a pile of ash.

So every time he came, Yasuho did her best to make it a special occasion.

Dressing up was a must.

On one of her school outings she even bought an expensive hair clip, hoping to earn one of her father's compliments. It was beautiful cast of gold with pink crystals near the center. Yasuho was sure he'd love it. Everyday she wore it in anticipation of her father's arrival only to suffer mental attacks from what she later realized to be a Rock Animal disguise. The memory of that occasion burned her soul like a block of dry ice.

When Yasuho closed her eyes,

she could see her father seated at the dining room table with his usual cup of tea. The bright morning sun made him glow like the savior she always knew him to be. The hero who would save her from her unruly mother; her sadness; herself. After she finished checking herself in the mirror, she ran to greet him. With every step she could feel his strong arms embracing her, holding her in place when every other aspect of her life was falling apart faster than a pillar of sand.

But, before she could open her mouth, he turned to her with a smile that broke her heart as he said, "I can't see you anymore. I have a new family now."

Strangely, any feeling of safety or wholeness began to disintegrate along with her father's image. His love, his security, became nothing but specs of dust, drifting within a fleeting breeze.

The whole ordeal had been a stand attack, of course, but she didn't know it at the time. Her hair clip was a Rock Animal, and it had defiled the only refuge she had ever known.

Yasuho's thirteen year-old mind was unable bear the weight of his rejection.

It broke her.

Numbness had taken over when she made the decision to slit her wrists. She carefully laid herself in a half-filled bathtub to make the clean up easier for whoever found her. It ended up being her mother who rushed her to the hospital she was currently standing in.

The University Hospital of Morioh.

Yasuho turned her attention back to the elderly woman behind the help desk.

She was currently on the phone trying to fact check her claim of being Kaito's child. The woman seemed skeptical as she squinted up at her from behind the black marble countertop, scratching at the coarse black hair, stuck awkwardly on the left side of her wrinkly chin.

After a few moments the younger worker sitting next to her whispered, "Yamada-san mentioned he had eloped recently. This must be his new step-daughter.

Yasuho interjected. "I just need to drop something off for him. He forgot his key."

The elder woman's expression lightened, "Ah, I see. Well, Dr. Yamada is currently tending to a patient but you may sit in his office until he returns. I'll just need a copy of your photo I.D."

The woman accepted Yasuho's card with a shaky hand, printing off a guest pass before handing both items to her. "He's located on the 6th floor, near the back end of the ICU. Have a nice day!"

Yasuho returned the woman's smile with one of her own and a curt bow, before making her way toward Kaito's office. The complimentary surgical mask she put on did nothing to protect her nose from being filled with the strong smell of alcohol and ammonia. White walls, white floors, white lights; it was a visually sterile environment. Not much personality or color to speak of.

... and another reason why Yasuho hated this place.

The halls were crowded with patients, doctors, and visitors alike. All consumed in their own little worlds, bumping into others without much care. Wanting to avoid the masses of people, Yasuho clung to the walls and away from the center of the walkways. After passing through a security check at the entrance of the intensive care unit, she was directed to the end of the hall where she found a door labeled, Dr. Kaito Yamada.

She knocked, as a curtesy.

When no one answered, she quietly let herself in and closed the door behind her.

His private office was white like the halls and moderately sized; big enough to easily fit four people comfortably. Mounted on the walls were shelves filled with a wide assortment of medical publications as well as anatomical books. A life-sized skeletal model was propped up on a stand near the far corner of the room. The exam table, she assumed, was for sleeping on; it was unusual for a doctor to invite a patient into one's private office.

Yasuho plopped onto a stool she pulled from under his computer desk, spinning in it like a hyped up toddler. Yasuho giggled, taking pleasure in the dizziness that made her head feel like a cloud. It was an immature act, but the privacy of Kaito's office allowed her to be indulgent. Settling into a quieter state of mind, she listened to the muted sounds of life going on beyond the closed door. Her ears twitched to the hurried shuffling of feet, fragments of a serious conversation, and the soothing sounds of a soft purr.

"The radiator must be old." Yasuho thought aloud.

After ten minutes, her inquisitive nature took control and she began to snoop around Kaito's belongings. His black bomber hung on a hook, mounted on the door.

"Bingo!"

A small smirk appeared on Yasuho's face as she dug his wallet out of the coat pocket. She had no intention of swiping cash, she simply wanted to know more about him, for her mother's sake.

Thumbing through its contents, she found his practicing license.

Kaito Yamada

Tokyo University

Specialization: Neurological Surgery

"Hmm..ok, Mr. Big shot.." Yasuho softly mocked.

At least he hadn't lied about his job..

If there was one thing her mother couldn't stand, it was a broke liar.

Next, she reached the album section of his wallet which held three photos. The first image was of his graduation from medical school. Kaito stood alone, no family or friends with whom to celebrate the occasion were present. Regardless, his face held a familiar glee that said he was ready to conquer the world.

Next, was a couple's photo of him and her mom taking a selfie on the beach. They looked genuinely happy as her mother laid down next to Kaito's sand covered body. She had tastefully sculpted him a set of boobs from the sand.

Reluctantly, small giggle escaped Yasuho's lips.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the girl in the last photo.

"She really gave him my picture..." She couldn't decided on whether to feel flattered or livid. Neutral is where she stayed, considering her mother didn't try to keep her a secret prior to the elopement.

Sighing, she placed the wallet and all its contents back into its appropriate pocket.

Click!

Yasuho panicked when she heard a loud sound behind her.

"I'm sorry, this isn't what it looks like!" She pleaded, afraid of being caught red handed, snooping in the doctor's coat.

After a moment, Yasuho paused.

The only entrance to the room was the door on which the coat hung. She had been facing it the whole time, and it hadn't moved at all from what she could tell.

"What is going on?" The words that escaped her lips were hushed by the fear of an answer. Yasuho, felt something big nudge into the small of her back and push her chest into the wooden door.

She screamed.

The surprise of having her body pinned made her tears fall in full panic.

Is this a stand attack?!

Another deep voiced purr emanated from whatever creature had caught her in its grips, sending a soul-shaking chill to the very core of her being. Her body trembled violently as she felt a hot breath work its way up and down her spine.

Unable to turn around, Yasuho activated her stand.

"Paisely Park!" She commanded from where her cheek was smashed against the door.

What appeared to be Yasuho's shadow sprouted from underneath her, taking on a 3 Dimensional body as it lifted from the wall. Its form was as curvaceous as hers and adorned with markings patterned after the map of Morioh. Her stand intersected her body, overlapping it within a pink luminescent mist as it recorded what Yasuho was unable to see.

Closing her eyes, she focused on her connection to her stand.

She saw what it saw.

Felt what it felt.

Expecting the worse, Yasuho inwardly prayed to whatever God was out there that she'd be able to make it out alive. Then she opened her mind's eye to solidify the connection.

What she saw was indeed something one would expect to purr.

A large cat-like creature was rubbing its head into her back. Its anthropomorphic form, built like a bodybuilder, was as tall as her chest even when crouched on all fours. Every sinewy muscle, rippled with just a minor movement of its powerful limbs.

"Omg, its a stand!" She squeaked in a voice she hope was quiet enough not to alarm the large beast. She winced as its large, leather-gloved, hands gripped her ankles; its sharp claws pierced in to her soft skin with ease. The cold trickle of blood gliding into her white socks made her woozy.

Yasuho closed her eyes again, in an effort to calm her pounding heart. Gathering her resolve, she stretched a hand back as far as it would go, extending her finger tips to catch a hold of the back of its hairless head.

She scratched.

Lightly, of course.

Yasuho bit her lip, peaking one eye open to check if she had just sealed her fate.

To her relief, the creature let go of her legs, its head leaning more toward her hand which was scratching it with as much affection as she could muster. Turning around slowly, she saw that it was a perfect mix between cat and human. Its large ears, which protruded from the top of its head, twitched playfully along with her fingers.

She suppressed a fearful giggle. Cuteness ended at the point of being able to tear a man in half. Yasuho knew better than to be a cause of alarm.

Caution was key.

The strange stand continued to purr enthusiastically, until her tired hand stopped scratching.

Its angular eyes shot open to regard her every movement with the intensity of a fearsome lion. Thin pupils were fully exposed, calculating in a way that made Yasuho gulp reflexively.

She then decided her fingers were, in fact, not too tired to keep on scratching.

The whole situation was unsettling to her.

If a stand was here, where was its user?

She could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong here.

From its appearance, Yasuho could feel the overwhelming power rolling off its form in waves which meant it was most likely a close range stand. Its owner had to be within a radius of 10 meters.

Slowly, Yasuho kneeled until she was face to face with the creature.

"Are you Kaito's?" She asked softly.

Her body fell back against the door, as it bared its fangs, closing in on her small form. It growled ferociously caging her body into place when it straddled her in a crouched position, never touching her, but not backing away either.

She took it as a 'no.'

Yasuho looked up at her at her own stand, willing it to dive into the computer system on her step father's desk. It may not be Kaito's stand but he had to know something about it.

She could feel her consciousness merge with Paisley Park, yet again as she began to free fall within the virtual world. The hospital's security system was top notch, but Paisley Park was made for infiltration. Energy surged through her body with each security level she breached. Neon blue tracks lined the walls like hieroglyphs scaling down a seemingly endless pit.

Countless doors appeared before her.

There wasn't a need to open any at random, she knew intuitively what they led to. Insurance records, bills, blood tests, Yasuho was aware of them all. It was the closest to being omniscient, that she could imagine; the ability of knowing everything, all at once, and being able to sort through it all. She was limited only by the range of the computer's network.

Before she knew it, she had reached the end of Kaito's files, disappointed when nothing stuck out to her. She flipped her body so that she landed feet first on the hard surface of the virtual floor. A wide circular wall encompassed her space. Yasuho looked up at the countless levels of doors and data she broke through to get to her current location.

"There has to be something in here.." Yasuho took in the last level of files. These doors held Kaito's personal information; his family registry, internal training results..

"No good." There was nothing out of the ordinary from what she could tell. Maybe if she could get a closer look at the lines of circuitry on the walls.

She took a step toward the wall, surprised when she felt a strong draft push her body backwards slightly. Unprepared, Yasuho lost her footing and hit the ground hard.

That's never happened before..

Curious, she squinted her eye to get a closer look at what had assaulted her. Barely visible, in the crease between the wall and the floor, was a vent. Hissing sounds emanated from it, as it pushed red embers into the air. She reached a finger, tentatively, to a glowing light that flew in front of her face, dancing like a fire fly on a summer's night. While other lights died, this one remained.

It held a warmth to it that drew her in.

When it landed on her index finger it, popped. Sparks flew in every direction, causing her to guard her face with her forearms reflexively from the wave of unexpected energy.

When she peaked her eye open, text floated in front of her like a phantom.

Human

That was odd. She hadn't asked for any information. Usually, her data grabbing powers only worked when she actively sought to penetrate an archive..

Yasuho touched another ember, this time prepared for the small explosion that came with it. Again, more abstract information floated in front of her.

Age: 29

"It's a trail.." Determined, Yasuho made her way to the source of the embers. Pushing past the onslaught of exploding embers, information was thrown at her like balls of hail in a thunderstorm.

Marine Surgeon

Male

There was no way to guard herself completely as she felt sharp stings on her legs, arms, and abdomen. It was the best she could do to guard her face. Every step she took was met with resistance. Crouching to lower her center of gravity, Yasuho practically crawled, digging her fingers into cracks in the floor in order to stop herself from being thrown back.

"So close.."

Her limbs were beginning to ache. She'd never been met with so much resistance...which meant the vent was exactly where she needed to be. It was obvious that wherever it led to, was not a place she was wanted.

When she became close enough, she thrust her fingers between the metal dividers within the vent to lock herself in place. Turning her head did nothing to stop the embers from flying into her face. Each pop emitted a light that might as well have been a solar flare. She dug her feet into the ground and spread them as she crouched.

Reaffirming her grip on the vent, she pulled with all her might.

It didn't budge.

A certain knowing washed over Yasuho and she relinquished control of Paisley Park's form. Suddenly, her fingertips sprouted like roots from her hand, delving into the depths beyond the metal shades of the vent. She wasn't sure what her stand was searching for, until a growing light leaked from the the gaps.

The image of a young man began to materialize in her mind. Dark wavy hair, complimented by full lips and a delicate, almost feminine nose that made Yasuho's heart skip a beat. There was something familiar about the person she saw. It was only a glimpse and she couldn't see his eyes, but even Paisley Park seemed drawn in by him as her fingers dug more desperately, prodding for any lock that would break the barrier between Yasuho and this peculiar man.

"O-ouch!"

A burning sensation singed her fingertips.

But Yasuho knew the pain was not in vain when the vent lifted from the floor.

Gauging the hole, she was just small enough to...

A loud siren went off.

Before she could react, she was hit in the chest with a force strong enough to split her consciousness from her stand.

Yasuho opened her eyes in a state of shock.

All the colors of kaito's fluorescent light split apart in a circular wave of rainbow swirls.

Her head hurt.

Her legs hurt.

Her face hurt.

Everything hurt.

Yasuho leaned heavily against the back of the office door as she caught her bearings. Red blotches covered her pale body like a case of measles; some were blisters. That explained why her body felt like she had been doused with gasoline and set ablaze.

Yasuho's eyes shot up as she remembered the dangerous situation she was in.

Where was that cat stand?

To her relief, only Paisley Park's form crouched over her, it's large singular eye blinking, like a child in need of direction.

Yasuho cupped her stand's cheek affectionately.

She felt a tinge of sorrow as she realized its body was just as damaged as her own. To be honest, she was surprised to feel so much pain, through her stands body. Damage taken by long range stands weren't supposed to affect the user's physical body.

She'd have to be more careful in the future..

"Well, we tried.." It felt like she was speaking to a daughter, as its form closely resembled her. It even had her signature ponytails and decorative barrettes.

Nodding, Paisley Park stood up and pointed to the back wall of the office, where the cat-like stand creature was scratching. It looked as if half the wall had slid two inches to the right and opened a portal within the time/space continuum.

A bit dramatic?

Yes.

But the whole situation was disorienting for her. Yasuho felt like she was starring in an episode of her favorite mystery cartoon, Scooby Doo. She'd stumbled upon a trail of clues that seemed to lead toward something important.

Back in the computer's main frame she felt something break. Looking at the faint blinking light beyond the wall, she was beginning to realize what it was.

Yasuho retracted her stand, not paying any mind to it fading out of existence as she walked passed it. Whatever was behind the wall held the key to what Kaito was hiding. There was no other choice, but to investigate.

Fear escaped her as she boldly approached the wall at the back of Kaito's office. Her eyes were fixated on what laid behind the barrier. She ran a hand lightly along the head of the cat-stand, which drew back onto its hind legs to look at her expectantly.

This must have been what it wanted all along..

Whatever was waiting for her had to be related to the man she saw in the virtual plane. The information she downloaded came rushing back like a waterfall, taking over her vision as all the text reappeared before her eyes.

29 years.

Human male.

She gripped the opening of the wall.

Blood Type: O

Yasuho pushed all her strength into the opening, not surprised when it slid open as if lubricated with butter.

Stand user

A small amount of light spilled over from the main room into the opening.

Killer Queen

The cat-like stand scurried past her to a bed stationed near the back end of the hidden room, just out of reach of the light.

She followed.

Her heart pounded in her ears, as she watched the cat creature jump onto the bed and nuzzle into someone who had no reaction.

She could hear a series of machines; swooshing, beeping, grinding in an orchestra of mechanical rhythm. An IV lay to the side of the bed, filled with an unnamable yellow liquid being fed through a venous line straight into his arm.

Fear caressed her heart as the he last word of her data dive appeared before her...

Deceased.

..because the body in front of her was still breathing.

Her breaths became labored with uncontrolled emotions as the gravity of the situation took full effect. Strength drained from her legs and she collapsed at the foot of the bed.

Yasuho barley suppressed a sob.

After a few moments, she wiped the blurriness from her vision.

Swallowing nervously, she reached for the small strip of paper tied to the man's toe by a string of elastic.

In small black text, she read the name.

Yoshikage Kira

To be continued...

#Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #rock humans #university hospital #rokakaka #josuke higashikata #jojo #kira yoshikage #yasuho hirose #josefumi kujo #killer queen #jojo stands

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disappearingground · 4 years

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Something Borrowed, Something New: The Perfect Union of Jenny Lewis and Elvis Costello

Filter Magazine November 22, 2008

Something Borrowed, Something New: The Perfect Union of Jenny Lewis and Elvis Costello

By Chris Martins

He strides into the room seeming impossibly tall and endlessly poised. In a silk scarf and all black, he looks as sharp as his wit has ever been, and downright Dickensian, as if the word “doff” was invented solely for use in reference to the hat sitting on his head. At 54, he’s got the perfect dappling of salt-and-pepper scruff, which frames a pair of lips in a perpetual mischievous grin, ever the unambiguous counterpoint to those trademark square-framed specs. Elvis is in the building—Costello, of course—and it’s enough to keep Jenny Lewis on her toes.

Well, somewhat. She’s sitting, currently, getting a light dusting of blush before the next round of photographs with her avuncular counterpart, but her dainty feet are neatly propped by a pair of light brown pumps. Los Angeles’ favorite daughter, our eternal indie darling regardless of her record label, is rightly stunning in a red dress and feathered cap, and as Lewis moves through the room, she hardly disturbs the air. Whether this is out of respect to the dust or due to an innate grace is unclear, but to not stare—at either of this pair—is to miss history in the making.

The duet is nothing new to music. Neither is the appearance of an elder statesman on the album of a young star for posterity, nor the reverse for the sake of a little shined-up sparkle. But when a legend with three decades and 34 albums to his hallowed name is coaxed out of retirement by the sheer energy experienced in a day of studio time with an inspired young songwriter, momentousness abounds. Last October, Costello told MOJO magazine he wasn’t “of a mind to record any more,” that the MP3 had “dismantled the intended shape of an album” and that fans could hear him live or not at all, essentially.

But on April 22, Costello sneaked out his 35th album, and a few days later issued the following via his website: “Some of you may have heard rumours of an album called Momofuku… [which] came about because of an invitation I received from Jenny Lewis to sing on her upcoming record.” He’d changed his mind. “That’s what I do,” he added. “The record was made so quickly that I didn’t even tell myself about it for two weeks.” His story only added to buzz surrounding an unnamed Lewis solo album reportedly recorded in organic and speedy contrast to Rilo Kiley’s 2007 LP, Under the Blacklight. Costello’s record was effectively a carry-over of Lewis’ January session, and he’d named it after the inventor of Cup Noodles because “all we had to do… was add water.”

Acid Tongue is now out, and it could be Lewis’ most immediate work yet. An all-analog rock and roll record that sears as much as it sways, the follow-up to 2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat trades in the alt-country scenery for further breadth and depth. Its sound is richer—a soulful mix of Southern-Gothic stomp, saturated balladry and campfire strum—and its inspiration digs deeper, with Lewis putting her pretty croon to use against the messy topics of sex, drugs, love, travel, illness and family. Sometimes she sings in character; in other moments, she’s addressing the very people recording with her: live-in beau Johnathan Rice, who co-wrote much of Acid Tongue; or her father, Eddie Gordon, a harmonica virtuoso estranged from Lewis until his recent cancer diagnosis reunited them.

Likewise, Costello’s Momofuku sounds refreshed, thanks in no small part to Lewis’ rag-tag gang. Though a few of her guests (Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, and Rilo’s Jason Boesel among them) had evacuated Van Nuys’ Sound City Studios by the time Costello arrived, the “vocal supergroup” that lent his record so much of its particular vigor is also the core lineup behind Acid Tongue: Lewis, Rice, Dave Scher (Beachwood Sparks), and Jonathan Wilson (formerly of Eisley), along with Costello��s bassist Davey Faragher. Momofuku is another sound entry in Costello’s post-millennial rock catalogue, seething with the attitude and urgency he’d rediscovered with 2002’s When I Was Cruel. His own band, The Imposters, might have something to do with that as well: keyboardist Steve Nieve and drummer Pete Thomas have been playing with Costello since 1978—though not without the occasional break or falling out.

Truth be told, Costello has been threatening retirement since he was 26, according to his own liner notes for the Rykodisc reissue of 1981’s Trust (though when asked about it today, he asks back: “Did I say that?”). And more than their mutual passion for detailed narratives, heartful ballads and, now, double drummers (read on), Costello and Lewis share the kind of creative restlessness that can make or break a career. They approach each record anew, band members be damned; she pushed on by the persistent fear that one day her well will run dry, and he without enough time in the day to tend to the flood.

Will Costello quit? Not likely. He’s touring like a teenager these days, has a variety show debuting on Sundance Channel, and is finishing up a new album with T-Bone Burnett. Will Rilo Kiley split? It doesn’t matter. Lewis remains, and anyway, that’s a subject for another article at another time.

As we sit down to talk in one of the odd little atriums that dot a large woodsy yard, Elvis Costello removes his hat, while his unflagging cool and smirk remain. At his left, sharing a small divan, Jenny Lewis appears more petite than usual and a little bit nervous, despite the fact that she’s directly responsible for Elvis’ return to the studio. It’s hard not to marvel at the sight.

A conversation with Elvis Costello and Jenny Lewis

The beginning is a fine place to start… How did you two meet? Elvis Costello: It was mainly the doing of Tennessee Thomas [drummer for The Like]. The Imposters and I were down in Mississippi recording The Delivery Man, and Pete Thomas said his daughter had hipped him to [Rilo Kiley’s 2004 album] More Adventurous. He played me the record and I thought it was fantastic. [To Lewis] I think I got your number and called you.

Out of the blue? Jenny Lewis: Oh, yeah. My phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number. I picked it up and it was Elvis. I truly thought it must have been some sort of mean prank. Costello: I was in this cottage I was renting right by the woods where Faulkner used to walk. It was quite a good spot and I had a lot of time to listen to records. I became a fan, and when Jenny made her first solo record…it was a different world. The storytelling on that album is amazing.

So you instantly thought, “This young talent needs to be in my new music video.” Costello: [Laughs] We filmed the “Monkey to Man” video in L.A., at the old Ambassador Hotel, and I thought it’d be funny if Jenny walked across the set like she’d gotten lost while on a Universal Studios tour. Lewis: The awkward walk-by. Clutching my purse. Sweat on my brow. Costello: We’d decided the video would be populated by girls in bikinis and people in monkey suits. It was very tasteful; we were going for the feminist vote.

…And then one day in January, Jenny called you? Costello: And then it was fun for the whole family. I was at home in Vancouver and The Imposters’ bassist Davey Faragher—he lives in Southern California and was in the studio with Jenny—called and asked if I would sing a song on her new record. Lewis: And I emailed you a clip of myself, Johnathan Rice and a puppet doing “Carpetbaggers.” Costello: Obviously, I was being asked to do the puppet’s part. I told ’em I loved the song, but I thought I would sing it differently than the puppet.

So you flew out to record. At what point did you decide to stay and make a record? Costello: I didn’t stay actually. We cut “Carpetbaggers” in three takes, and the band didn’t have anything planned for the rest of that day. So I said, “Maybe we can cut something of mine.” I had two songs—“Go Away” and “Drum & Bone,” which I’d written literally the night before—and we just laid them down, Jenny and I in that little vocal booth, I’m playing rhythm guitar with a line out to the hallway, she’s reading the lyrics off a piece of paper. And I couldn’t believe it—she nailed every line. Lewis: I was thinking, “This is your big shot, kid, don’t blow it.” Costello: I had decided I was done with recording. Everything I’d have to do after the release of a record was making me miserable, but working with them reminded me of the bits that I liked. A week later, back in Vancouver, I called everybody up and said, “That was too good—let’s do it again.” That’s when the vocal group came together. Davey is the only person in The Imposters who can sing, and with The Attractions, I used to track myself for all the vocals. These guys were coming up with killer parts, and the will to do them, at 11 p.m. We made the record in six days, with the same live feeling as Jenny’s. Lewis: I was so impressed with your pace. Is that how you’ve recorded in the past? Costello: I think bands make more of a meal of it now because they can. We’re all guilty of it. I recorded Spike [1989] in four cities [Dublin, London, New Orleans, Los Angeles]; I had a ridiculous budget. But it’s gone around in one big circle—my first record [My Aim is True] was made in just 24 hours of studio time. The second album [This Year’s Model] took 11 days. We thought we were being decadent taking three weeks for Armed Forces, and with Imperial Bedroom, we were making our big statement in the studio, hiring harpsichords and glockenspiels: “Let’s take six entire weeks!” Now you hear of bands spending six months on a single.

Acid Tongue was done at an impressive clip as well, Jenny. What inspired you to make that record in only three weeks’ time? Lewis: I think everything I do is a reaction to the thing before it. Having come out from under the polished intention of Under the Blacklight—which took quite a bit longer—I just wanted the vibe to run the show. I was finally able to connect with a band and have it go down like a live performance. It was really liberating. Costello: There’s nowhere to hide in that room. When you listen to Acid Tongue, there’s nothing there. It’s just a voice and a couple of instruments, and it works perfectly. The more you went on with the record, the more confidence you seemed to gain. To open with “Black Sand”… it’s the kind of confidence that marks great records. You know, “How could they open with that? That’s ridiculous!” But soon you can’t live without it.

You’re both artists who have continued to surprise us over the years, approaching each album with different angles, different sounds and, often, different bands. Is creative restlessness part of what makes a great—or at least an enduring—artist? Costello: I think too much is made of it—like it’s some sort of puzzle where eventually the pieces will all fit and there’ll be this big, smiling picture of Jenny going, “I told you so.” The reality is: that was just the way the artist was feeling at that moment, and now you’re in danger of missing what’s actually being said and the genuine feelings that are in those songs. It’s a trap that journalists fall into, which funnily enough never comes up with groups that have a strong, signature sound. It just doesn’t occur to anybody to compare their records: “This one’s got all those things that we already love!” Lewis: All I know is that I just tend to get a little bored and I like to try new things. And, really, anything is good subject matter for a song. But I don’t think that quality is exclusive to “the good artist.” Costello: Van Morrison has a signature sound, for instance, but he’s a singular artist. I don’t know that there’s one better way to do it. When I was younger, I was guilty of being more confrontational for the sake of getting attention, saying things like, “We’re here to completely ruin your life!” [Laughs] It’s true there was some dull music out there and we were coming along with a bit of attitude—trying to get it right, where just playing was really the thing—but tearing others down wasn’t the intention.

Neither of you have shied away from expressing the deeply personal on record, and you’ve dealt with an array of reactions to your public persona, from fan adoration to being dissected by the press. How does one stay level through all this? Costello: It’s true that since the mid ’60s, people have based their songwriting more overtly on their life’s experience than, say, Ira Gershwin did. In his day, they wrote songs that faded to black when the stickier subjects of love—physical love in particular—came up. But with people like Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell, that started to change. That was passed on to the next generation, then the next generation, then to me, then to Jenny, and we’re writing about these things that are increasingly raw. Fair or not, people associate you with these songs, and to whatever extent that you’re putting your experiences in there, your mistakes are in public view. Your heart is broken, the band splits, you find a new way to go in life, you have a drug problem, you sober up. There’s a fascination with human frailty and an entire industry that makes entertainment out of it. I got disenchanted when I was younger, but then I realized that’s just show business, and show business is based on the Menudo principal: They kick you out of the band when you’re 18 and get someone else to appeal to the 11-year-old girls who, in turn, hit 15 and peel off to go to the new thing. That’s not real life. Lewis: I’ve just started, over the last couple of years, to receive feedback in that way, as well as from people that assume songs are about them, and it’s all very uncomfortable. I still don’t know what to make of it, and I try not to acknowledge it. I’d rather just write songs without having to think about where they’ll end up or who will be offended. Costello: I’ve gone through my less glorious periods and other times where I’ve felt on top of the world, but it’s important to remember: You’re not living in real time by writing songs. Even if you think you’re writing the honest diary of your love affair, you’re not—you’re writing an edited version of it. Otherwise the album would be 20-years long.

So, 2003’s North, for instance… Costello: North is a very specific album about recognizing the end of one way of living and the beginning of another, but it’s a song-written explanation of what it felt like to go through that. It’s not the same thing, and it certainly doesn’t take into account the feelings of the other people involved. Art is selfish; it’s not a democracy, not even in a band. But if you’re smart, you take the best of what people bring you—to a collaborative form like recording, for instance. I was just the beneficiary of that, when Jenny said, “Why don’t we get Tennessee in here to play with Pete?” Lewis: The fantastic father-daughter drumming duo. Costello: I never knew that was going to sound so good. Next thing I knew, we had a record. And you know, Tennessee joined us onstage at the El Rey in Los Angeles after we played the Hollywood Bowl with The Police. I’ve been turning around to see Pete playing behind me for 30 years, and I look back that night and see him and his daughter. I’ve known her since she was born but, more than being a matter of pride, it just sounded fantastic. [To Lewis] Thank you for that.

Which is your favorite song from each other’s new album? Lewis: “Go Away,” because it was the first. Costello: “Godspeed,” because it’s got such beautiful melody and mood. I was startled the first time I heard it. I also love the long, multi-parted songs like “The Next Messiah,” and I think “Sing a Song for Them,” the up-tempo one at the end of the album, is tremendous. And of course, “Carpetbaggers,” because we got to do that together. I also like the other version of it that we cut—a live take with the double drummers …

So basically, you like everything, including the outtakes. Costello: “Godspeed” is definitely my favorite, but I’m attracted to ballads, so you’re asking the wrong guy. I mean, I really love ballads—more than any other kind of music. Lewis: I actually wasn’t going to include “Trying My Best to Love You” because I was worried about Acid Tongue being too ballad-heavy—I wanted it to rock more than Rabbit Fur Coat—but Elvis was so set on it being on the record that I included it.

Elvis, were you impressed with Jenny’s use of double entendre for the album title? Costello: [Laughs] Old habits die hard. F

#publication: filter mag #album: acid tongue #person: elvis costello #song: carpetbaggers #mention: songwriting #Year: 2008 #song: trying my best

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