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majesticbrownjawn · 4 years

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Delicate Part Three

Part One

Part Two

They rode quietly back to their side of town, Violet in a contemplative state of awe the whole way.

How'd he know her name? Maybe it was a freaky, weird coincidence.

She was completely taken by E. How'd he will her to give herself to him so quickly? She hadn't done anything like since her 20's. Her entire being wanted to stay there in Oakland, which let her brain know she had to do the opposite.

She had to stay away from him.

"You have to stay away from him," Trina said as she was climbing out of Violet's car. It was like her best friend had heard her thoughts and repeated them to make sure your got the picture.

"What?"

"He's no good, Vi," she asserted.

"How would you know? You just met him yourself." Violet's tone was defensive and she didn't know why, but Trina was absolutely right.

"I-I just know his type...AND know he had you with your drawers hanging around your ankles when I found you," she answered with an air of satisfaction in her voice. "God knows how many other women he's had like looking that."

Violet's eyes bulged in horror. She was always the more level-headed of the two. Sensible and practical were her middle names. Her role in their relationship was the responsible one. Violet relished in being the wise friend who always seemed to have it together and just a few hours with E was already tarnishing her image.

"Did you see him though?" Violet was trying her best to appeal to Trina's weakness for attractive men. She couldn't pick a guy with character to save her life, but they were almost always fine, and Violet was an eyewitness to Trina's inventory of E when she introduced them at the party.

Trina huffed and folded her arms at Violet disapprovingly.

"Fine. I already decided I would stay away from him. That's why I ran out of there so fast."

****

Violet loved food.

It was no wonder, though. She didn't just magically wake up one day in her pillowy-soft body.

But she turned that love for food into a craft, and studied culinary arts in Paris. Chef V's years of experience working under the best chefs in Europe made her a shoe-in for one of the few Michelin-starred restaurants in the States. She was the only Black woman executive chef of a restaurant of this caliber, which was both an honor and a shame to her. She wanted nothing more than to help other Black women in the her industry come up, but found the balance of trying to stay on top of her game and making time to give back a challenge. Doing anything other than working was a challenge for her. Maybe that was why she was so easily swayed by someone like E.

Her thoughts briefly went back to that day, now two months in the past—and she shuttered a bit at the thought of him. She would have been lying if she said she was glad he never contacted her. But she knew not hearing from him was for the best.

The sound of clanking fine china and sizzling kobe beef buzzed around her as she stood in the center of an upscale kitchen barking out orders like Gordon Ramsey. This kind of power gave her a high that was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. Everyone looked to her for direction and approval, a position she was quite familiar with.

Her younger siblings looked to her for guidance after her parents' death as a teenager and from then on, people kind of just sensed the leader in her. She was forced into being this person at a young age—maybe too young – but eventually embraced it. The consequence was that she came off as a snobby, slightly controlling bitch who thought she was smarter than everyone else.

Almost everyone.

Violet ran a tight ship and mistakes were not tolerated, so when her sous chef Suzie ran into the kitchen with beet-red cheeks and a half-eaten plate, she was curious as to what the flustered woman would say.

"There's a man out there," Suzie whispered.

"Speak up, Suzie. I can barely hear you."

"He said his steak is undercooked."

A collective silence fell over the kitchen as everyone stopped to see what Chef V would do next. She jerked her head back and studied the steak on the returned plate.

It was cooked to perfection.

She smacked her teeth before heading to the kitchen doors to peer out of its circular windows. She scanned the restaurant briefly, trying to pick up on who she thought the picky customer might be. She usually had an eye for patrons who liked to complain in hopes of a free meal, but she couldn't quite figure it out tonight.

"Who sent it back?"

"Him...over there at table 46."

Table 46 was the best table in the house. You could see the entire city skyline from its positioning and it was purposefully tucked away for the sake of privacy. Violet had served numerous celebrities and wealthy diners at table 46. She didn't think to look over there initially. When she did, the silhouette of strong, broad shoulders caught her eye. She pushed the doors open with frustration, ready to take on this tasteless customer, but as she marched forward, more of the man's physique came into focus. And the man's physique was familiar.

His hair—locs – specifically, was finally what caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Suzie, following a bit too closely, crashed into Violet, sending the returned plate cascading to the floor. The commotion caused half the restaurant to look in their direction and had Violet not been so caught up in the man, she would have been embarrassed.

But she was caught up.

Violet audibly gasped when he turned to face her. But it wasn't him. It wasn't E. As she dismissed herself back to the kitchen, she felt a bit of sadness that the picky customer wasn't the man who so easily made her feel open enough to do things she'd never done, but always dreamed of doing—especially as it pertained to sex. Unfortunately, there was a side of her that she'd never explored. She'd never found the right person she felt safe enough to do those things with, so she fantasized about them instead. That is, until she met him.

"Just cook him another one," she flatly told Suzie, completely defeated. Her sous chef quickly got to work on a replacement steak, while Violet slipped away to her small office in the rear of the kitchen.

"You would work at a bougie ass place like this, wouldn’t you?”

His voice caused an immediate reaction from her body, though she refused to let him know it. Part of her was angry, seeing him after all this time, smiling smugly at her in her office. She stared at him sternly before speaking.

"How'd you get back here?"

"You thought that nigga was me, didn't you?"

"Ye—you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine, babygirl." Her stomach fluttered at that name. Then she thought about him figuring out her real name.

"How'd you know my name?"

"Lucky guess," he smirked. "Your name is really Violet?" He said sarcastically.

She huffed and pointed to the embroidered script of her name and title on her chef coat.

"Lucky guess, my ass. How'd you get back here, E?"

He took a seat in front of her, as confident and fine as ever. The fitted turtleneck he wore had her feeling vulnerable. A bearded gentleman in a turtleneck was something she could hardly ever resist. So this man, though far from what she considered a gentleman, would certainly be a challenge to overcome. She'd already succumb to his charm once and she couldn't blame that time on piece of clothing.

She remained standing in between his obnoxiously widespread legs. He leaned back into the cushiony chair, totally relaxed.

And in control.

"One of my girls—" he cleared his throat unnecessarily. "I know one of the hostesses."

"Why are you here? Did you know I worked here?"

"Why you asking all these questions? You not happy to see me?" He leaned forward and rested an elbow to his knee.

"I don't have time for this. You come up in here playing games on the busiest night of the week. You can see yourself out, E."

She quickly side-stepped his legs on a mission to make it to the door, but he caught her hand just before she was out of reach.

"Where are you going, Violet." His question wasn't a question at all.

"What do you want from me?" She was sincere in her query. Why'd he show up here, two months later?

"I wanna fuck you, girl. Make them pretty ass eyes roll to the back of your head again."

Them eyes—her eyes, broke contact with his and drifted to his crotch. His dick print was visible on his inner thigh. She wanted to touch it so badly. She hadn't gotten the chance to the first time.

"You see it," he smirked.

It was hard to miss.

"Got me hard as fuck watching you do your thing, Chef V," he teased.

His hand led her back in front of him.

"Maybe I'll let you boss me around one day like you do these peons in yo kitchen."

She gulped loudly when he stood up, his physical presence looming over her making her feel small again, just how she liked.

E kissed her with enough power to topple her over, but the desk was there to catch her.

He didn't stop when her position suddenly lowered under him, he just readjusted and leaned down into her. She moaned shamefully when his tongue wiggled into her mouth and his hand groped her breast. The thick chambray material of her chef jacket was getting in the way of her feeling the full sensation of his hands and it frustrated her. The way his adept fingers teased her nipples the day they met was all she could think about when she moved his hand under her top.

"I guess you did miss me, Chef V."

"Shut up," she groaned. She didn't need him reminding her of the obvious. Reminding her what she was doing was uncharacteristic and stupid.

"I missed you."

Did he really just try that playa shit on her? I missed you? The sirens she heard when she met him at his house party had officially made their return.

"I said shut up."

"Aye," his voice was calm but his eyes were ablaze.

There was a passion in them that quickly reminded her of E choking her in his workroom. She was terrified at first, but when he realized it was her and his hands loosened around her neck, she realized she very much liked the way they felt. Warm and firm.

Invigorating.

"I said you could boss me around one day, not

TO-day."

His hands roughly gripped the back of her knees and pulled her closer. Their middles met and she couldn't help but grind up against his erection as he nibbled and sucked on her lips.

"You really just came here to fuck me, E?" She managed to get out.

"Yea."

Violet didn't expect such a direct answer. She kind of wished he'd lied to her. That he told her she was special and that he wanted to get to know her.

But who was she kidding?

She didn't really want to get to know him. He was dangerous and not the type of man she could settle down with. This was all they could ever have.

Good sex.

No—great, amazing, superb sex.

Top two, not two sex.

The best sex she'd ever had.

She prayed it wouldn't be the best she would ever have. But was fantastic sex worth the space he took up in her head the last few months?

E started kissing her again, successfully distracting her from overthinking. He'd started unbuttoning her jacket when a loud knock on the door startled her. She stared at him like she was looking for him to tell her what to do. He shrugged and kissed her again.

"They'll go away," he whispered.

Another knock.

"Hold on!" She yelled, trying her best to quickly button herself back up. E rolled his eyes as he watched her frantically try to gather herself.

"...Stay," he said, calmly unbuttoning each button right after she'd fasten them. He hoped a kiss to her temple would convince her to remain in his presence a while longer. She contemplated it until she saw the handle of her office door turning.

She yanked herself loose from his grasp and stormed out of her office. She didn't even look at the person who'd been knocking. All she saw was a blur of someone in black. Violet didn't even get mad that they'd opened her door without her permission. She was grateful in a way. Grateful for an escape. God knows how long and how loud they would have been in there hunching.

She took a moment to compose herself before returning to her duties. Violet was literally hot all over. She stealthily grabbed a cup of ice from a machine towards the back of the kitchen. There was a spot just past her office that was a hideaway for her when she didn't want to be found by the few people brave enough to knock on her door, which made her wonder who knocked on her door tonight. It wasn't someone from the kitchen. All of her staff wore white. The thoughts of what the mystery person had interrupted with E quickly flooded her thoughts.

The few top buttons of her jacket were still unfastened thanks to E. She slid a piece of ice up and down her neck and across the top of her chest. Her mind raced back to him. His hot hands grazing her flesh, inching closer to her breasts. Her mind was gone and her hands, with the ice in them, were making circles over her sensitive, hardened tips. She wanted to cum so badly. She focused on him. The way his turtleneck clung to his muscular arms, hinting at the wonder that was his scar-laden body. His scent was still on her from being so close moments ago.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

The way his tongue explored her mouth. The way he grabbed her like she belonged to him. The ice between her fingers soon melted and her digits quickly found their way into her panties, hungrily applying pressure to her clit. It didn't take much effort to make herself cum after being deprived of him for eight weeks. The thrill of seeing him was more than enough to excite her in ways she'd never felt before.

But why?

She chuckled to herself as she washed her hands before heading back to the main area of the kitchen. He had her acting totally different and part of her liked it.

The look of relief on her sous chef Suzie's face was comical as he drew close to her.

"Thank God you're back, Chef V."

"Everything okay?"

"Yea, I guess. You know I just get nervous without you here. I just don't want anything bad to happen when you leave me in charge."

Suzie was a young woman in her mid-twenties. Violet took her under her wing because she had great potential and because she was Black. Mentoring her was the least she could do to give back to the next generation, but sometimes Suzie was a worrywart and annoyed Violet to no end. She could already feel the high of her orgasm wearing off.

"Did you remake table 46's steak?"

"Yes. He loved it."

"Okay and did the kitchen catch on fire while I was gone?" She looked around in an extra manner for added effect.

Suzie shook her head no.

"See? Everything is fine. You need to relax."

Violet took her place back at the center of the kitchen, putting finishing touches on plates in the special way she's been gifted to, and even took moments to praise or constructively critique the work of her staff. She could see how pleased they were to have her working side-by-side with them and made a mental note to have more nights in the kitchen like tonight.

Minus the part with E.

And her private moment with the ice.

***

The restaurant was not only heralded for some of the best dishes in the world, but it was also home to one of the country's most expensive delicacies—a chocolate cake covered in gold leaves. It was rare someone ordered it, because despite the wealthy clientele they served, a $15,000 dessert wasn't something people ordered every day. When Suzie told Violet table 46 had ordered the expensive ass cake, she gave her an impressed look and headed for the refrigerated safe where they kept the golden flecks.

She made her way to the back of the kitchen, just past her office and private corner. As she strolled back by her office with the gold leaves in hand, she thought she heard something — a voice — on the other side of her office door. She brushed it off and kept walking, but then remembered she never saw him leave. But to be fair, she never saw his creepy ass enter the kitchen in the first place, so whatever she thought she heard had to be her mind playing with her.

Violet dropped the leaves off with her pastry chef and tried to busy herself with work that did nothing to keep her brain from thinking about who may or may not be still in her office. Finally frustrated enough with herself and him for making her crazy, she marched back to her office, her chest filled with air and ready to go off of need be.

She flung the door open but was quickly deflated by the sight in front of her. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on E standing in the corner of her office with a woman on her knees in front of him. His brows were knitted together tightly and the intense look of pleasure on his face made her pussy throb with want. E slowly brought his eyes to Violet standing at the door watching him getting his dick sucked. She knew that he knew she had been there a few moments before giving her his attention. It felt like he knew she'd arrive at the exact time she did. Just in time for his show.

Violet stood there frozen, mouth slightly agape in a mixture of shock, jealousy and desire.

The woman on her knees wore all black and was sporting hair extensions that trailed down her back. Violet concluded she was the woman who knocked on her office door earlier, likely the hostess E slipped up and called one of his "girls." Violet could see why she was. She could suck a mean dick. The woman's mouth slowly trailed up his shaft, saliva dripping down her chin. The chef looked in awe at his cock, seeing him fully hard from this vantage point had her wondering how she took him so easily. E's dick disappeared into the hostesses' throat and it was enough to make him groan.

"Yea. Just like that." He was staring at Violet when he said it, like she was the one on her knees in front of him. The hostesses moaned at his praise, but he wasn't talking to her.

Violet had quietly closed the door behind her and was palming her sensitive breasts. Her eyes closed as she listened to the sounds in the room.

His labored breathing.

The hostesses' lude slurping and gagging.

Her own barely audible mewls.

"Look at me."

Violet knew he was talking to her without opening her eyes. Somehow, the hostess was still unaware of a third party in the room with her and E, stealing his attention from the good work she was doing on his dick.

Violet's eyes remained closed.

"Open your eyes." His command was surprisingly sweet, but laced with urgency.

"Iljshfhro," the hostess garbled. Violet assumed the woman was trying to tell E was indeed looking at him, but the hot dick in her mouth was prohibiting her from being fully understood.

Violet's eyes opened involuntarily from quietly laughing at how ridiculous the woman on her knees sounded. E smirked at Violet, unable to control his smile as he looked at her amused expression.

"C'mere, baby."

The smile had widened across his face, making the caps on his bottom row gleam against the soft lighting in the office. Perhaps the warm smile he gave her was the trick to getting her close to him. He felt relieved when she took a step forward, he was growing impatient and was dangerously close to begging her to come to him. E's desire for her had ballooned over the course of eight weeks and was on the verge of exploding. After meeting and subsequently fucking her that day, his mind frequently revisited their dalliance, sometimes in the most inopportune moments, like when he was blowing the backs out of other women. The most recent time it happened, he went fully soft inside one of his favorites when he looked down and realized she wasn't Violet.

He thought not only of the way her ample backside bounced beautifully against his scarred flesh, but of her wit and bold personality. Then there was the way he naturally felt possessive of her. E's teeth gritted together when he thought of how his homeboy looked at her gripping onto his bannister as they had sex. He came to the conclusion that he had to have her again, despite the nagging voice in his head telling him otherwise. At the least, he hoped sexing her again would get her out of his system. But in the moments when he was honest with himself, he knew the opposite was a more likely outcome.The hostess' head shifted in the direction of the door, but E's voice stopped her before she saw Violet approaching them.

"Don't look at her," he told the woman. Her head snapped back to its original positioning. E said it like he wanted to protect Violet. Like he knew Violet wouldn't be ok with the thirsty hostess knowing she was just as parched and needy for him.

E looked back at V with more tender eyes than he'd just had with the other woman. Violet was unsure if she was okay with his tone with hostess, even if it was to her advantage. Nevertheless, she moved until she was standing in front of him, the hostess wedged between them on the floor and looking to E for permission to do anything.Violet was captivated once again by his masculine beauty. And she didn't know it, but he was just as taken by her. He licked his lips as he stared at her plump ones, longing to tug and taste them again. He broke eye contact with her to look down at the pitiful soul under him. Waiting for direction on what she should do next.

"Get back to sucking my dick. Now," he commanded.

He shoved the woman's head into his groin and she happily continued gagging on him. Violet stepped even closer to him. Close enough that her stance called for her to straddle each of her feet just outside the hostesses' legs. Ever the obedient sub, the woman never looked behind her to see the woman hovering over her. She only did want he wanted, and E wanted her servicing his dick at the moment.

E reached out to grab the back of Violet's neck and kissed her feverishly. Her hands instantly found a place on his pebbled chest. The sensation of his scars against her palms sent tingles throughout her body and she fleetingly wondered again just what they meant and how he got them. She watched as he painfully pulled himself away from her and took a long look at his dick making its way in and out of the hostesses' mouth. He watched it like he didn't recognize it as an extension of himself.

"You see how fat my shit is for you?"

Violet didn't answer. She only continued staring with her lip wedged between her teeth at the scene she'd now become a part of. Her eyes struggled to keep focus on just his dick, though. E was too entrancing just to focus on one thing, even if that thing was his long, thick and currently, sinfully shiny dick.

Violet watched the way his fingers massaged the hostess' scalp while she swallowed him, making his biceps flex in a way that made Violet want to snatch the other woman off of him and take her place on her knees—mouth open and tongue out.

"You wanna suck it, don't you?"

"Yes," Violet squeaked before she realized what she was doing. E really had her caught up. She covered her mouth in shame.

He shook his head at her, laughing at her slip up. "Not yet, babygirl. Sit your cute ass over there."

Violet quickly plopped down in an upholstered chair a few feet behind her.

"Pull them titties out for me. I want to see you play with them while I cum for you."

V felt an uncontrollable shiver come over her that literally rattled every muscle in her body. It felt eerily similar to the feeling she got right before she orgasmed. She unbuttoned her chef coat and just barely touched herself. The light passes over her nipples were sending her in a way that felt as intense as squeezing them normally would. The sight before him was too much for him to hold on to any longer. E's mouth curled into the shape of an 'O' before his eyes briefly fluttered shut.

"I'm bout to cuuum...Gotdamn, shit baby."

His eyes opened to look at Violet and he pulled himself out of the hostess' mouth, preferring to use his hand to finish himself off. He tugged at his dick while looking at her gently rolling her fingertips across her engorged nipples. The waitress knew him well enough to calculate the exact moment he would cum. She stuck her tongue out in excitement and anticipation of his seed, admittedly in love with the feeling of his hot cum plastered across her face and tits. It was always her reward for being a good girl for him.

But she wouldn't enjoy one of her favorite parts of sex with him today. Instead of painting her with his orgasm, E shot his cum over her shoulder and in the direction of the woman sitting in the chair behind her. It shot out of him like nothing Violet had ever seen, so much so that some of it landed on the hem of her top. She stared down at the creamy substance and licked her lips, tempted to taste it.

"Get out." E's voice was low and void of energy. That nut took a lot out of him.

Violet remained in place, fixated on the jizz on her jacket.

"Babygirl," he called again. Violet looked up at him. His eyelids were heavy, but the look was sexy on him. He tilted his head and looked at her for a moment before shifting his head in the direction of the door. "You should leave."

"But I—," she started. He shook his head at her, silently telling her not to speak. In this moment, Violet didn't care about the waitress knowing who she was. All she cared about was staying with him. She knew what eight weeks without him was like and the yearning she felt for a man she'd only been around for a few hours was agonizing. And pitiful. She stood her ground—silently–for a few moments, hoping he'd demand the other woman to leave instead.

"Go," he told Violet once more. This time she finally turned to make her way to the door, but not before giving him a pout that she was completely oblivious of. Her feet were going one way, but her head was turned and looking at E. He kept eye contact with her until the hostess tugged on him.

"Why didn't you give me your cum?" the woman whined. "Wasn't I good for you?"

E let out a sigh, but it didn't feel like a frustrated one.

"We need to talk," he told the hostess as Violet reluctantly left them alone in her office again.

————————

I low key have no idea where this is going lol. It was a supposed to be a one shot. We’ll see what happens. Thanks for all the love on this series so far🖤

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@harleycativy @queenflaws @theogbadbitch @goddessofthundathighs @syndrlla97 @soufcakmistress @killmonger-fics

#erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger fic #killmonger x black!reader #killmonger x oc #erik killmonger #killmonger smut #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger #black reader #killmonger fanfiction

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tsuki-sennin · 3 years

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Mina-san, bonne lecture~! (Tsuki recaps his feelings about Kamen Rider Saber, a personal essay.)

So, Saber... what a wild ride it's been, huh? Just a quick heads up, this is very long and rambling, and also contains spoilers for everything in Saber. It's fine if you don't wanna read all this, but I just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

TL:DR, Kamen Rider Saber's an undercooked hot mess I absolutely adore, warts and all.

Speaking as objectively as possible, it's a 6/10. Probably closer to a 5 than a 7... it's not great: All the different plot elements are cluttered and weirdly paced; character focus is disjointed and clearly biased toward certain characters, leaving great ones like Kento and Ogami, interesting ones like Kamijo and Hayato, and underdeveloped ones like Sophia and especially the Shindais in the dust; not to mention its balance of comedy and drama is off, and while both are very effective, there's a lot of mood whiplash that can take you out of the story. I also feel like a lot of the easily avoidable character conflict could've been easily resolved, even in universe, by simple conversations. Be careful Fukuda, I think Inoue might sue you if he finds out you've been biting his style and doing it worse.

Rider shows have a very frustrating tendency to drop cool form ideas and not do anything with them, and I don't think it's ever been more the case than with Saber. There's a similar argument to be made with the majority of Heisei Phase 2 after Gaim, but wow. The suits are expensive to make without just straight up recycling everything, I get that, but man, I really wanted to see more Wonder Rider forms. How come Touma got all the fun, eh? Of note are the Blades King of Arthur forms (which look amazing by the way), Espada's Jaaku Dragon forms (one of which I even drew last night), even the non-elemental random Wonder Ride Books all have awesome design elements that go tragically unused. Even if the other Swordsmen just kinda have the ones they do get to use slapped onto them, that's at least something. Touma also just straight up only uses Diago Speedy twice and never again. You have cool props guys, don't waste them like that!

Speaking of waste, Espada, goddamn. Since most of the Wonder Ride Books are Story Type and he needs one very specific Story Book to transform, he doesn't get much of... anything, really! No Wonder Rider forms like Blades, Lamp Do Cerberus being exclusive to Ganbarizing, only getting to use the Ride Gatriker like once, he even spends the second and third arcs as a completely different Rider, then once he comes back he doesn't get a King of Arthur-granted upgrade or even a Necrom Espada form. ...at least, not yet anyway. I'm holding out hope for Espada x Necrom and the eventual Saber V-Cinemas. Extra Rider stans, we will be well respected someday.

The Unreal Engine CGI used for fights in early Chapters was pretty good but wow it feels disconnected and they really drop it quick. I feel like if the animators had more freedom to use as many forms as they want, we'd have gotten a lot more mileage out of the books beyond... decoration basically. I actually really liked the CGI sequences, they felt creative and were fun to follow along with.

The soundtrack is pretty great on its own and conveys what it needs to, but they seriously overplay the orchestral themes. It honestly feels kind of... stock at times. I think my favorite parts of the score are when it winds down, since it feels a lot more natural and lets the cinematographers and actors speak for themselves.

As awesome as I think Falchion's design and the Mumeiken Kyomu are, The Phoenix Swordsman and the Book of Ruin comes up short as its own standalone thing. You'd think 30 or so minutes of non-stop action would be awesome, and it almost is? It's as good as a typical episode of the series with a higher action budget, but it kinda drags on a bit too long; and although I think Emotional Dragon looks cool, it feels a bit tacked on. Coming off of the incredible Zero-One REAL×TIME, it doesn't give you much room to breathe, which Rider films are typically great at handling. I also thought the resolution for the kid's subplot was kinda forced. He does an okay job at acting considering his age and doesn't overstay his welcome, but I really don't see how 20 minutes of violence and action is enough to convince him to be brave enough to go play with the other kids. 5/10, it's closer to a 4 than a 6 and I think that maybe Zero-One should've stood on its own if they really had to push back Kiramager Bee-Bop Dream because of the pandemic.

Alright, with all that said... As imperfect and undercooked Saber was, like Ghost I can consider it a personal favorite, 10/10. Call it a guilty pleasure if you want, but holy hell it's just the show I needed. Takuro Fukuda has a talent for creating fun, wonderful characters and utterly fascinating worldbuilding and concepts. It's a shame he doesn't utilize them fully, but hey!

The action and fight choreography are pretty top notch as usual. Lots of beautiful shot composition and set pieces, and plenty of great angles to help keep up with the extra busy action. I love watching the suit actors perform and they deserve all the respect in the world for their hard work in those hot, sweaty, and heavy costumes. Their visual design is also top notch, with lots of unique and fascinating forms and cool weapons I desperately want to play with despite being broke, all with spectacular finishers and hype jingles with the voice of Akio motherfucking Ohtsuka calling them out. A real feast for the eyes. Not a single bad suit among them, yeah I said it, fight me.

The crossover specials are soooo good too.

-I went over my feelings on the Zenkaiger crossover episodes in a separate post (good luck finding that btw), but to sum it up, they were great character moments for Zox and the Shindai siblings with lots of great screwball comedy and some good old fashioned meta humor.

-The Ghost crossovers are great little side stories all about how Daitenku Temple somehow had the Ghost Ijunroku Wonder Ride Book? I genuinely have no idea why it was there, or how Makoto had the Specter Gekikou Senki, and as far as I remember neither of their origins are explained. Did Luna or Tassel hand them off to them and told them to wait for a sword guy? And why do these generic French Revolution Gamma villains working for Danton get their asses handed to them so easily by Kanon, who literally just became a Rider? I thought that Makoto deciding to adopt all the Kanon clones into his family was both hilarious and adorable though; considering all the crap they went through, I think it was a good ending to this plot. Gimme Espada x Necrom already Toei/Bandai/Fukuda/whoever I need to yell at, give Kento things to do, I beg you.

-I haven't actually seen Super Hero Senki since it's not available for subbing yet, but apparently there's a Journey to the West plot starring the Taros and Ohma Zi-O and I want to see that so badly.

Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra? Yoohei Kawakami? A match made in heaven, that's what they are. All of their themes are absolute bangers. All of them. Almighty, Kamen Rider Saber, Sparks, Taju Rokou, all excellent and empowering pieces. Rewrite the Story, Will Save Us, and The Story Never Ends are all amazing inserts done by the cast, and it makes me wish we had even more of them to help break up the monotony of the score.

The characters are what easily make this show such a great watch though. For the most part, they have great personalities and chemistry, consistently fun and interesting scenes, well acted and... sometimes well-written development, and deeply investing personal stakes.

Narrating it all is the delightfully eccentric Tassel/Viktor, portrayed by Romanesque Ishitobi "TOBI" of the Paris-based Les Romanesques. I was utterly confused by his presence at first, wondering why there needed to be a narrator when the story would've been perfectly fine without it. He even got a special spot in the opening despite having no stake in the plot despite seeming to live in Wonderworld, who the hell is this guy? But then I thought "OH MY GOD, HE'S THE MAIN VILLAIN USING TOUMA AS THE HERO IN HIS OWN TWISTED STORY, THE BASTARD". I thought it'd be some subversion of expectations, true form, "That Was His Mistake!" shit. Trust me, it made a lot more sense in my head. I'm very happy that they didn't do that, as I grew to love having male Yuuka Kazami as my narrator, and when he was shown to be actually important by being friends with Yuri my mind was blown. And doubly so when I realized just how deeply necessary to the plot he really is.

Rintaro/Blades is up there as one of my all time favorite secondary Riders, since his curiosity is always consistently funny and adorable, his forms are all gorgeous and impressively designed, his relationships with Mei and Touma are absolutely sweet and compelling to see unfold, and his arcs about becoming willing to call out those he views as family and coming to terms with his feelings of inadequacy and both moving past and using them to strengthen himself are always great lessons to pass on to kids. ...even if they took like 10 goddamn episodes to be conveyed in what could've been 5, but hey, Takaya Yamaguchi does a stand-up job all throughout. Rider veteran Eitoku's refined, almost logical movements with the Suiseiken Nagare absolutely beautiful to see in action, and his final form having the same white and blue color scheme as Zooous's base form is an amazing touch I don't see appreciated enough.

Mei Sudo's also absolutely wonderful, serving as the perfect emotional core of the story, responsible for most of the funniest lines, sweetest character moments, and some of the most deceptively compelling drama. Asuka Kawazu brings the perfect energy for such a dynamic and well rounded character, and absolutely nails her scenes of quiet turmoil. As much as I would've loved her to become a Rider, I don't think she really needed to. She's already done so much to help, and as cool as it would've been to see her pick up a sword and fight alongside them as Espada, Calibur, or Falchion she's already endeared herself to me as one of my favorite supporting characters in the whole franchise.

I can't get enough of my homeboy Kento Fukamiya/Espada. Like Rintaro and everyone else for that matter, he also suffers from Saber's pacing issues; and like his predecessor Valkyrie from Zero-One, he doesn't get a proper upgrade aside from his Wonder Combo, instead becoming an anti-villain using a completely different powerset and shifting the Raimeiken Ikazuchi out of focus for the Ankokuken Kurayami, and I feel there's a serious missed opportunity to see him use Jaaku Dragon with Alangina. However, Ryo Aoki's performance is probably among the most easily praiseworthy in the whole cast, managing to convey both Kento's kind and knightly stoicism as Espada and his emotionally unstable despair as Calibur perfectly, in conjunction with Yuji Nakata's experienced and expressive stuntwork.

Ren Akamichi/Kenzan's a dark horse favorite for sure. I remember back when Saber was first picking up, people hated this breezy mad lad for being such a simple character at first. Overly concerned with strength? Black and white world view? Annoyingly energetic? Agh, real-feeling character flaws, I hate them, get him away from me! But then y'all came crawling back. Eiji Togashi's apparently a bit of a rookie actor, and it really shows with some stilted delivery and the way he sometimes bobs his head when giving his lines, but man he improves dramatically as the series goes on. His inexperience ironically ends up really selling his character development, and his unexpectedly beautiful relationship with Desast is special evidence of that. The Fuusouken Hayate's three modes and Satoshi Fujita putting them to excellent use through his stellar acrobatic movements are also really cool.

Why did Luna have to be a child for so long? Does Wonderworld not age whoever inherits its power? Well since Luna randomly becomes an adult in Super Hero Senki and some of the final episodes, I guess so? Miku Okamoto does a fine job for a kid actor, but she's basically done all the heavy lifting for the whole series and doesn't give Mayuu Yokota enough time to get a feel for her character as an adult. How did she choose Touma to inherit the power anyway? Does she just subconsciously decide to trust him with it upon seeing how kind and passionate about storytelling he is? Well if that's the case, why didn't Kento get at least some of that power too? He's just as important to the merchan- I mean Luna-chan, isn't he? Why did Tassel pick her over someone who isn't a literal child who'd be understandably terrified about basically becoming an embodiment of storytelling?

Sophia also kinda suffers from the same problems. Rina Chinen's voice is very pleasant to listen to, but she doesn't really do much beyond serving as a source of exposition and support. I think her dynamic with Mei's adorable, and given her kindness I can certainly understand the respect Northern Base has for her, but she doesn't really contribute a whole lot. If she could use the Kurayami and become Calibur all this time, then why didn't she take it from Kento and Yuri and do so earlier when Kento decided to go back to being Espada? I know she's not much of a fighter and as the closet thing the Sword of Logos has to a leader after Isaac's death I'd understand not wanting to put her at risk, but considering Storious is destroying the world, and she's very evidently kicking a lot of ass in the first part of the final battle even in the basic Jaaku Dragon form, I think it would've helped a lot, just sayin'. Tassel at least has the excuse of being unable to interact with the real world, but Sophia obviously didn't just be put in charge of Northern Base just because she's a pawn in Isaac's plans right?

Ryou Ogami/Buster is also a victim of the disjointed character focus. I have no problem believing he's an excellent father and fighter thanks to Yuki Ikushima and Jiro Okamoto, respectively, but he feels a bit flat and simple in comparison. His rivalry with Desast is randomly dropped, his wife doesn't even show up until the final episodes, he's kinda sidelined in terms of action a whole lot. I imagine that must've sucked for the Rider Dads out there. He does get to star in his own manga, and that was pretty good, so I guess I can't be too mad.

Tetsuo Daishinji/Slash fares better though. Hiroaki Oka, being a Kamen Rider fanboy himself, manages to make him among the most relatable characters in the series. Not only are his hyperfixation on swordsmithing and anxiety played surprisingly believably, Hirotsugu Mori letting him cut loose is extremely cathartic and hilarious, and you really feel for him when the Onjuuken Suzune becomes the first victim of Calibur!Kento's sword sealing.

Yuri/Saikou's another dark horse favorite, for me at least. "Oh great, Avalon guy's got even more merchandise to sell, I wonder what his Sword of Light is- it's himself. Well... that's different." I admit, I didn't like him at first. He felt like he was there to fill out character dynamics in the absence of both Rintaro and Kento, I thought his gimmick was too silly even if his design and jingles were bangers, I didn't particularly care for his power set. But then XSwordman came around I totally got it. He's an endearing, hard-working man trying his best to catch up on all the cool shit he missed, unafraid of experimentation, ready to throw down at a moment's notice, serving as a wonderful bit of consistent support for our heroes, a truly knightly individual, an absolute Chad. and goddamn does he make me worry. Tomohiro Ichikawa, I salute you good sir.

Even if they fall short compared to the rest of the cast, the Shindai siblings are at least cool enough to not wanna write out entirely. They kinda devolve into comic relief after they become allies, something that villainous Riders from Chase onwards are very prone to doing, and it's especially awkward in their case because I think that they kinda get off scot-free for obeying the obviously sinister and crazy Isaac for so long, as well as driving a wedge between a lot of people and threatening children in Reika's case. I think their sibling dynamic is nice though, even if Fukuda recycled it from Makoto and Kanon and has some... questionable possessive undertones as a result. It's cool how they're basically foils to Touma and Rintaro though. The dispassionate and methodical Reika/Sabela is beautifully played by Angela Mei and her moments of emotional depth are fascinating to watch. Her Rider form is a thing of beauty, and its use of literal the Eneiken Noroshi's smokescreens and Yuki Miyazawa's precise and deadly stinging strikes are a joy to watch. And while Ken Shonozaki's not given the best direction as the undercooked plate of 7-Eleven fried fish that is Ryoga/Durendal, he manages to sell him as an experienced and hardened warrior with an awkward side that's especially evident in the Zenkaiger specials. His goddamn RWBY weapon that is the Jikokuken Kaiji is absolutely sick, I'm a sucker for transforming weapons and its combination of time and water powers is really cool, especially with Yasuhiko Amai's deliberate and forceful acting in the suit.

Daichi Kamijo/the Second Calibur, for as brief as his story was, was a pretty cool starter villain. Hiroyuki Hirayama brings this poor bastard to life in a genuinely touching way. I love how as Calibur he goes full force on his creative use of Wonder Ride Books for attacks, and his debut as Jaou Dragon got my blood pumping. His end is also deeply tragic, and I really felt for him when he realized just how badly he fucked up. Hayato Fukamiya also does wonders for the backstory, and while he also doesn't get much to work with, Mitsuru Karahashi makes his regrets and love for Kento feel genuine.

Legeiel and Zooous are both very intimidating and entertaining villains. On top of being just the right balance of goofy and threatening, Kairu Takano and Koji Saikawa's stage presences are both very strong, and their mixture of camaraderie and in-fighting is extremely believable. Zooous's rivalry with Rintaro feels incredible to see through to the end, and although Legeiel doesn't get quite the same treatment, Elemental Dragon had such a cool debut that it more than makes up for it. Their final fights are also absolute spectacles. I don't think their sympathetic angle works even close to as well as it does with MetsubouJinrai or even the Gamma, but I get it, power corrupts, and you probably feel a lot of sadness and regret for things you've done when you die unless you're a right bastard.

Isaac/Master Logos/Solomon is kinda generic. As wonderful as Keisuke Soma is, he doesn't get much dimension to work with. The result of that is while he nails being as smug and punchable as possible, he feels almost... comically generic. Genta Umemori from Shinkenger was full of personality! He was also basically some guy, but he was fun, he felt connected to the rest of the cast! Meanwhile the only real time we get to see Isaac's depth is when we see him crying over his failures. I almost appreciate him being unapologetically evil though, since I've seen way too many shows where redeemed villains get off scot free for way worse things, and some where they outright demand you to sympathize with them despite them doing nothing to warrant it.

Bahato/Falchion surprises me by not just being a movie villain whose actions affect the main plot, but also being a movie villain who actually gets to appear in series as a recurring threat! ...and it's not a particularly great showing on his part, sadly. Masashi Taniguchi does a wonderful job with what he's given, but his character feels like a retread of Eternal without any of what made Katsumi Daido a compelling and frightening villain. I'd like to believe Yuri when he says that he used to be a good person and a hero to the people, but I can only hear so many anime villain monologues about the pointlessness of life and the beauty of destruction before I can never take them seriously again. ...I think that's his biggest problem, actually. I thought he was an overall uninteresting and generic villain in the movie, and the cartoon nihilist he's shown to be in series is only a small step up. He still feels like filler. If only there were a far better written and much cooler villain who takes on the Mumeiken Kyomu after his de--

Desast is probably one of the finest anti-villains I've ever seen in recent years. On top of an absolutely badass character design and the excellent combination of Kazuya Okada/Danki Sakae's suit work and Koki Uchiyama's stellar voice acting, his story being so thoroughly intertwined with Ren's makes their shared journey and bromance a borderline Shakespearean tragedy. His struggle for identity despite Storious treating him as nothing more than a failed experiment and the Sword of Logos treating him as a mere monster really gripped me, and the way he uses what little time he has left to encourage Ren into blossoming on his own is absolutely beautiful. I think his enmity with Ogami is criminally underexplored in series, considering he killed several of the previous Riders and how Ogami's in desperate need of screentime.

Then there's our main villain, Kamen Rider Storious. Robin Furuya brings an incredible amount of charisma to this character, expertly portrayed as both a sinister, manipulative bastard , and as a lonely, tragic figure that arguably makes him feel even more villainous. Speaking as a struggling writer myself, it's easy to feel stuck in the idea of "fuck it, who cares, maybe everything is predestined", but I can't imagine what it's like to know that as the truth and carry it with you for all that time. All of your grand ideas have roots from your experiences, and you're not the only one who even could have those experiences. It's easy to just fall into despair and give up trying, but would that make you happy? Sure, Storious is sadistic, he may be fulfilling his goals, he may be ungodly powerful... but it's not enough for him, is it? All of his friends are gone, one of them even at his own hand, he probably doesn't have any idea what to do after he destroys all the world's stories, Touma even reached his full power before he did, and his downfall is so predictable that even a blind person could see it. He even seems to welcome it, what's up with that? But then I realized... OH MY GOD, HE'S THE MAIN VILLAIN USING TOUMA AS THE HERO IN HIS OWN TWISTED STORY, THE BASTARD. He's so far gone, he's so desperate to stick it to the Almighty Book, he's willing to twist the archetype of the Hero's Journey so hard, it snaps in two. What I think is interesting is that he's ironically trying to chase the trend of "edgy superhero story" that became super popular in the 21st century. The Boys, Brightburn, Kamen Rider Amazons, The Sentry, No More Heroes, Magical Girl Site, even mainstream comics from DC and Marvel... Surely Storious must've seen the cruelty and tragedy these stories are filled with, but he chooses to go through with trying to force the world into this direction anyway. Did they, along with seeing the ever-popular tragedies of legendary playwrights and bleak satire of the twentieth century fuel his despair?

And yet... there's one who stands in determination against his ideals.

Our hero, Touma Kamiyama, the titular Kamen Rider portrayed by Syuichiro Naito and Kousuke Asai, he speaks to me on a personal level. There're plenty of jokes to be made about his procrastination in early chapters, his godless fashion sense, and him doing the funny run up the slope, that's all fine and dandy, but I rarely feel so connected to a character the way I did Touma. The struggle to create, find companionship, live your life, reach out to others... these're things a lot of people struggle with, and of course you see them depicted a lot in media about creators, but Saber gets to the root of what the greatest thing about storytelling really is. Giving people hope, while using the pain of the past as fuel for the future. Sure, Storious may be right about how every story has been done as far back as human civilization gets, he may even be right about how any spin or creativity humanity has is outright predestined. It should be pointless to even try, right? That's where Touma Kamiyama disagrees. He didn't spend all that time fighting and creating just to give up at the idea of predestination. His novel writing-fueled creativity in his early training, his devotion to his friends that let him surpass Kamijo as Dragonic Knight, his compassion for the Primitive Dragon that let him combine their powers to destroy Legeiel as Elemental Dragon, his resolve that let Xross Saber dethrone Solomon, and his passion for the craft of storytelling that let our heroes channel their wishes into Wonder Almighty... all stemming from the belief imparted onto him by his predecessor that "Hope lies beyond your resolution." And that you decide how your story ends. He may not be the greatest Rider to some, he may be as lame as others think he is, he may not even be my favorite, but I have no issue calling Touma Kamiyama... Kamen Rider Saber, one of the all time greatest carriers of the Kamen Rider name.

The final chapter's definitely not as great as some other Rider finales, but goddamn. Primitive Dragon consciously choosing to save Touma is so sweet and such a great emotional payoff, I loved jamming out to the opening theme while our boys lay the smackdown on Storious. Wonder Almighty's a fitting final bit to close the main series out with, if not exactly a great one. I think the cover is great, and the book's body is a lovely shade of candy apple red, but I really don't like how its pages are just the covers of the other books copy-pasted onto onto the pages, that feels lazy. Maybe if it were a panorama of all the books' characters, I'd like it a lot more as a symbol of how unified the Swordsmen are, but eh, what can you do? On a related note, does this mean all the "last episode extra final forms" of the Reiwa Era are gonna be named after their series's opening? That's a neat idea.

I felt a lot of feelings seeing all those video messages of Rider fans all across Japan talking about their favorite stories, and how their passion and fond memories help reshape the world. Mei's monologue at the ceremony about is also really touching and- IS THAT A HUMAGEAR!? :O

Y-yeah dude, it is! Wow, where have you guys been for the past 48 episodes?! Are you guys doing okay? How come you're like... the only one here? Is the technology of Hiden Intelligence only really that prevalent in that very specific metropolitan part of Japan and they're just not coming around much over here? Is it like Dragon Ball where anthropomorphic animals are just vibin' with humans while the heroes are off kicking ass? Apparently he's played by Hasegawa Keiichi, who wrote this episode and had the award ceremony named after him. ...is Hasegawa Keiichi a HumaGear in this universe then? Did he set up this award ceremony in Touma's honor? If so, why is it named after him? Did reading one of Touma's books lead to his Singularity? I know this is just a cameo, but... god, I have so many questions that probably will never be satisfactorily answered.

Overall, if I had to compare Saber to anything, it'd probably be Sam Reimi's Spider-Man trilogy. It's awkward, stupid, overwrought, undercooked, illogically written, scattershot, cheesy as fuck, and has a tendency to squander its otherwise fine execution; but the sheer passion for storytelling, sense of spectacle, deeply fascinating characters, and belief in the ideals set forth by the cast, crew, and fans are absolutely admirable. Improvements would certainly make it an overall better experience, to be sure, but there's something deeply captivating about how wonky this series is. Seeing everybody get their happy ending after all they've been through felt extremely gratifying though, and I may have to wait another for the epilogue to and then wait for Revice, but... man. I'm hella proud of our awkwardly-emoting, fashion disaster novelist and all of his heavily flawed friends for carrying the Kamen Rider name on to the future. Here's hoping Revice will keep it going.

Alright, that's everything I wanted to talk about. Sorry this was so long and ramble-y, I had a lot to say. I'll probably be liveblogging Revice as episodes of that come out, so... look forward to that, I guess. See ya.

#kamen rider saber #long post #tsuki talks #personal #kamen rider #whew #ok bye have a nice day

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justkeeptrekkin · 5 years

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erasermic one of them trying (and maybe failing) to create a lava cake so they can have a special lava-cake-date. this can be in canon or chef au.

Anon i had to google what a lava cake is and YUM. I think that’s what we call a chocolate fondant in the UK!!! Anddddd you’ve made me crave one now. So thanks lmao.

I’ve based this on my chef au, because i miss those silly chef boys. Link to the whole fic here!

These walls have seen many culinary failures. Even more culinary successes. They’ve seen the birth of liquorice delights and miso disasters. They’ve almost been burned down by triple-cooked-chips gone wrong, and they’ve had smoothie contents spattered all over them. Over a decade of working in the food industry, and Mic still forgets to put the lid on the blender.

Shouta’s warehouse converted apartment, with its big windows and exposed brick and concrete floors, is no longer Shouta’s- it’s theirs. And for that reason, it’s seen twice as many meals gone wrong.

“Shou. Babe. I swear to god, I swear to fucking god, please do not take it out of the oven. Do not take them out yet.”

“I don’t see why not. It said eight to ten minutes in the recipe.”

“And it’s been seven.”

“And by the time we finish this pointless conversation, it will have been eight, and they’ll be perfect.”

“Ok, sure, they would be, except for the fact that your oven is the biggest piece of crap I’ve ever seen and it makes me want to cry.”

“Our oven. And calm down, they’ll be fine.”

Shouta bends down to peer through the oven window. The fondants have risen a little, not too much, just right. And beside his face, Hizashi taps his foot anxiously, knee bouncing.

“You’re making me nervous,” Shouta says dryly. It’s a lie. It’s fun to tease, though.

“I- well, I sure fuckin’ hope so, my entire life is covered in cocao powder right now and I’m super craving chocolate lava cake, so if they suck and I can’t just, eat all of them one go, I’m blaming you and I’m leaving you forever.”

Shouta peers up at Hizashi with an even expression. He doesn’t think he’s smiling, but it’s not always easy to control that impulse around Hizashi. He looks down at Shouta, brows pinched and pouting, huge puppy dog eyes.

“I’m being serious!” Hizashi folds his arms across his t-shirt- which is, in fact, covered in chocolate mixture- and turns his back to him. “I’ll pack my bags and take my skills elsewhere.”

“And what about our restaurant.”

“You’ll have to find another superstar chef. You’ll have to watch my TV show just to see my face again. And I’ll acquire a really hot assistant so you can sit there and burn with jealousy.”

“Speaking of burning.”

Hizashi’s shoulders rise up to his ears and his spins round, aghast. Dropping to the floor, he nudges Shouta aside slightly so he can look through the window.

Shouta snorts.

“Yo, what the hell, you’re such a liar! They’re fine!”

“My oven’s not that bad. They’re not going to burn in eight minutes, you’re totally gullible.”

“And you’re an ass.”

Shouta laughs properly this time. And Hizashi abruptly smiles back. He likes to play up the flustered, stressed out persona when Shouta teases. It makes it more fun for both of them.

They both look back inside the oven.

Hizashi sighs.

“Fine. Let’s take them out. And if they’re ruined and they collapse and they don’t cook properly I’ll cry.”

“I know.”

Shouta takes the oven gloves and opens the oven door. The smell of chocolate is suddenly overwhelming, and the heat hits his face making his skin tingle. Hizashi’s glasses fog up, as they always do, and there’s nothing Shouta can say to persuade him to switch to contacts. Shouta places the tray on the counter, and for a moment, they both just stare at it. Eight perfect little puddings, a luxurious brown with an ever-so-slight dip in the centre. Steam rolls off of them, and Shouta breathes in the warm scent of cocoa.

“We need to wait for them to cool.” Hizashi says this like he’s in physical pain.

“Yeah.”

They look at each other. And then, Shouta takes a serving board and places it on the tray, tipping it upside down so that the puddings slide out.

Hizashi watches, hands in front of his face in apprehension. “It’s almost too much tension to bear!” he exclaims.

“They’re puddings,” Shouta replies calmly, though he can feel a sense of anticipation settling on his chest. “It’s not a competition.”

But they both know that’s not the case. Because even though this is technically a date- one of the rare occasions they get to escape the restaurant- and even though this is supposed to be a sleepy Saturday afternoon spent in each other’s company, this is a competition. This is a test- who has it right? Is it Shouta, who thinks they should have come out between eight and ten minutes? Or Hizashi, who holds a distrust for their oven?

There’s only one way to find out.

Slowly. Ever so slowly, enough that Shouta thinks that time itself has slowed down, he lifts the baking tray. He holds his breath. Feels a bead of sweat falling down his temple. Hizashi bites his fist, his other hand clinging onto his arm.

And the winner is…

The first pudding collapses in a thick puddle of chocolate.

Shouta growls to himself.

“YES! YES, in your FACE!”

Hizashi is slapping him on the arm excitedly and whooping, punching the air and doing a victory dance that makes Shouta smile to himself as he hangs his head in defeat.

He loves this idiot.

“Oh man, victory tastes so sweet, dude, I- people are going to remember this day.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s gonna be called, ‘Mic shoves an undercooked chocolate pudding directly in Chef Aizawa’s face’ day.”

“I thought you were meant to be sad that they didn’t work. Leaving me forever.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you.”

“I’d actually prefer it to this.”

Hizashi laughs brightly. Everything he does is bright, and Shouta absent-mindedly tucks a strand of hair behind Hizashi’s ear, before turning his attention back to the puddings.

The first one that came out was a failure. But on further inspection, it looks like four were successful. Their physical integrity seems to be fairly strong, compared to the other four, which have collapsed and caused a river of chocolate on the serving board.

“Still edible,” Shouta remarks.

“Well, I mean, dude. I’m eating it all regardless.”

Hizashi takes out two spoons, and Shouta takes a pinch of salt. He looks to Hizashi for permission, who nods eagerly, and he scatters over the top of the puddings. Nothing better than something sweet with a little bit of salt. Just to balance it all out. And Hizashi makes the most ridiculous noises as he ploughs through one pudding, then the second, whilst Shouta eats silently. They stand at the kitchen counter and polish off over half of it.

The Saturday afternoon light is dimming through the large apartment windows, and Shouta realises it’s probably almost time for dinner. He doesn’t think he can think about any more food for a while.

“Babe?”

“Mm.”

Hizashi holds his spoon in his mouth, brows furrowed in thought, and something else. Nervousness. Shouta waits, suddenly apprehensive. And then the look softens, as if Hizashi’s figured out how to articulate what he wants to say.

“What would you bake with kids?”

Shouta stalls. He blinks at him, trying to figure out where Hizashi’s considerably faster mind is going.

“Kids?”

“Yeah. You know, if you were baking cakes with a kid, what would you make?”

Shouta looks down at the serving board, troughs of chocolate made from their spoons and half-eaten puddings left to cool. He rubs the back of his neck. “I dunno. I guess something like this. It’s… messy, quick. Supposedly easy. Fun.”

He feels Hizashi’s eyes watching him expectantly, spoon back in his mouth like he’s trying to stop his mouth from saying anything else. Shouta rarely sees Hizashi self-conscious of his words, not around him. He doesn’t like it.

“‘Zashi?”

“No, just,” Hizashi shrugs, a huge heave of his shoulders, and waves the spoon about in his hand. “I was just thinking the same. You know. That this kind of thing would be nice to cook with kids.”

Hizashi’s eyes widen at what he’s said, and he stares resolutely at the serving board.

And something in Shouta’s chest explodes. From that point, there’s nothing that can stop Shouta from smiling. Light-headed with disbelief and love for the man silently panicking with a desert spoon stuck in his mouth once more.

“Hizashi,” he says quietly. His partner twitches, looks away. “Hizashi. Are you asking me if I want to have kids?”

Hizashi immediately turns to look at him again, and there’s a shine to his eyes. His lips form a wobbly smile. “I think I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure. Like, one thousand percent sure. You’d be the best dad in the world.”

“I. Hizashi, you know I’ve always wanted this, but-”

“Shouta, I’m so ready for this.”

And he hears the sound of a spoon clattering to the floor before he throws his arms around Hizashi, picking him up and spinning him around in the kitchen. Hizashi yelps and squeals in surprise, but eventually wraps arms around his neck and laughs against his shoulder. He could twirl him round like this for hours. He feels rejuvenated. He feels his eyes sting with tears.

When he drops Hizashi back down, Hizashi takes his face in his hands.

“Shouta,” he says seriously.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his face hurting from grinning.

And then Hizashi laughs, looking down at the serving board of chocolate, then back at him. “Our kids are gonna be so unhealthy.”

“Chocolate’s a bean. Beans are healthy, it’s fine.”

The sound of their euphoric laughter fills the room. Shouta kisses him, and his lips taste like chocolate.

#bnha #erasermic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #my writing

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darkhymns-fic · 5 years

Text

Serving You on Wings

Lloyd has never been to one of these theme cafés that Zelos keeps raving about. But once meeting a waitress with a unique costume that catches his eye, he can't help but want to learn more about these specially-designed wings of hers! (And her, too...)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Sheena Fujibayashi, Zelos Wilder, Alice, Decus Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: For @colloydweek Day 3: Wings. A coffee-shop AU mixed with maid cafes and handcrafted wings! This is around 7k words, I’m sorry, but the idea ran away from me.

More importantly! @frayed-symphony made a lovely fanart of a scene from the fic for this same day! Be sure to check it!

“Dude, this café,” Zelos gestured to the establishment, its curvy lettering on the sign, adorned with sparkles and pictures of cute wings over the name, “is the best café ever. Seriously.”

“Oh, that’s neat.” Lloyd looked over the sign that hung above the shop that was apparently called ‘Wings’. The lettering even seemed to change color when the sun hit it at certain angles, like a cool rainbow effect. “So the food they serve is really good? Like chicken wings?” It was called Wings, after all, so…

“Bud, that’s not the point of these!” Zelos sighed at his friend’s ignorance. “It’s a theme café! You know what those are, right?”

Lloyd stared at the sign, then back at Zelos. “So… the food isn’t good?”

“God damn, Lloyd. You’re not getting it. It’s the presentation here that’s important.”

Lloyd thought about what Zelos said for a good five seconds. “Ohhh, so like the food’s okay, but it looks cool, right?”

“Seriously, you need to stop thinking about your stomach for once in your life.” Zelos gestured again to the cafe, more vehemently this time, as if he was ready to bash Lloyd’s head in through one of the shop windows. “Theme café! You know, decorations, lighting, cute girls in costumes? They’re like angels, waiting hand and foot on you…”

“Costumes? Is it a holiday?”

“...Just-! Just get in here!” Zelos grumpily grabbed his best bud’s arm, shoving him through the door. Lloyd only had time to look through the windows to see people seated at small tables, sipping at drinks, but it didn’t look any different from any other café. The following delicate chime of the door clashed a bit discordantly with them both arguing.

“Gah! Stop pushing me already!” Lloyd shouted.

“Stop rejecting the good things in life!” Zelos countered back.

“Hello! Welcome to the Wings Café!” said someone else entirely. “Where we serve you… on wings!”

Lloyd had managed to get Zelos in a headlock so that the guy could stop pushing him when he finally noticed the person speaking to them. He raised his head, momentarily stunned. A girl with shining blonde hair stood before them in a frilly maid uniform, tinged a light green and a soft white. She even had a cap to match her dress, outfitted with red ribbons, and…

“Oh? Wings?” he said aloud.

He wasn’t talking about the name. A pair of literal wings extended from the girl’s back, dyed pink and all decorated in sparkles! They were so sparkly that some of the glitter drifted from those wings to flutter to the floor whenever the girl shifted a little. She was looking at him curiously ever since his little comment.

“Uh, hi!” Lloyd greeted. Huh, so this was what Zelos meant by cute girls in costumes… A choking sound reminded him about said Zelos was struggling in his grip. “Oh, sorry,” but his apology was half-hearted at best.

“The hell, Lloyd! Were you trying to knock me out?” Zelos complained.

“Wow, you two must be really good friends!” The girl said. “Did you need a table for two?”

“Oh, you’re new here!” Zelos crooned, winking at the girl, not at all mindful to how messy his hair looked now from him and Lloyd’s brief scuffle. “Have I died and gone to heaven now?”

“Oh, I hope not!” the girl helpfully added. “Does that mean you’re sick? I hope you feel better soon!”

That clearly hadn’t been the reaction that Zelos had expected, hesitating on his next pick-up line. Lloyd almost burst out in laughter at the expression on the guy’s face. “I was- I was just saying you looked nice-”

“Don’t listen to him. He says this every time he comes in here, which is already too damn much.”

A black-haired women walked up to the other, holding a platter full of dirty plates and mugs. Well, maybe not walked, she seemed to float to her almost? Which confused Lloyd for a bit. But she had wings on her back, too – smaller ones that were feathery looking and painted white. She made sure to give a wide berth around Zelos as she got ready to leave again, all while glaring daggers at him. “You try any funny business on her, I’m serving you out the door.”

Zelos smiled then, looking instantly right at home. “Heey, Sheena! My favorite maid! Missed you, too!”

Now that Lloyd looked around, it wasn’t just these two girls that had on wings – it looked like all the servers did! Women in serving outfits waited on tables, smiling as bright as the wings they wore behind them. Some wings were pure white, some were rich black, while others went for a multicolor effect. But none of them reached the shade of pink that the greeting girl had.

“Let me show you to your seats!” spoke said girl. She bowed politely, and in the process, nearly slipped. Lloyd reached out reflexively to catch her by the arms.

“Whoa! You okay?” he asked, looking down at the floor. Was it just slippery? Then he noticed the roller skates. Oh, that explained before…

“Ah, sorry! I… messed up, hehe. Thanks.” The girl smiled up at him, her own hands resting against his forearms as he held her. Eventually, she got up on her own and let go, and that was when he caught her nametag on her uniform. Colette, it said. Hm. “A-anyway, let me show you to a table!”

Maybe Zelos had a point about this place.

Lloyd, in his entire life, had never heard of an angel themed café before. Or… a themed anything, actually.

“Man, you are just so sad.” Zelos shook his head at his friend’s misfortunes. “Good thing you have me along to teach you some class!”

“You really gotta though?” He got a closer look at all the people working here, still waiting on people’s tables as their wings fluttered behind them. Some of them even had halos! And then some had like four wings or more which was kind of weird.

He hadn’t seen the girl named Colette ever since she brought them to their table, and then essentially skated away. Or ‘floated away’? That seemed to be the effect of the skates anyway. He kept watching out for her..

“Anyway, what did I tell ya? This is the best place!” Zelos leaned back on his chair, looking intensely proud of himself. “I can tell you like it too!”

“Uh, yeah I guess.”

“So which one would you say is your favorite? I always rank Sheena as the best with that rack, but last time she undercooked my omelet which gave me a stomachache, so I’m bumping her down a few points-”

Lloyd wasn’t listening. He caught sight of Colette again, carrying a platter in her hands, topped with the coffee drinks they ordered. She was still in her skates, looking around in obvious confusion around the café. “Hey! Colette!” He waved, so that Colette could see him. And she did!

Though in her turn, she nearly upended the platter full of drinks, but caught herself just in time, balancing herself shakily on her rolling footwear. She went over to them. “Hello! How did you know my name?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Zelos asked his friend with the deepest of suspicions.

“Oh, your nametag.” It was right there, after all. “I’m Lloyd, by the way!”

“What? Who reads those?” No one answered Zelos still.

Colette smiled back at Lloyd, her eyes bright and cheery as she placed Lloyd’s coffee on the table. “It’s really nice to meet you, Lloyd!” She stood up straight again, her wings catching the sunlight through the windows, shimmering with a myriad of pink shades. “If you want to eat too, we have a special on blueberry pancakes today!”

While food sounded good to Lloyd, he was still really caught up in those wings, eyes drawn to its structure, to its sparkling features, to the very difference of its shape compared to the other maids’ wings. He placed his chin in his hand, so preoccupied with his stare. Actually… “How come yours looks different from everyone’s?”

“Hm?”

“Your wings, I mean.”

Colette craned her head a little to look at her wings, her expression brightening even more at his curiosity. “Oh! Well, most of the others’ wings came with their uniforms. But I decided to make my own! I used this special cardboard for arts and crafts, and tried to come up with my own design! Though… some of the customers complain I used too much glitter…”

“No way, the glitter is really cool! Like, you’re supposed to be this magic angel, yeah? It fits!”

“Ah, you really think so?” Colette’s expression was as radiant as her wings. “Thank you!”

“I- I was just about to say the same thing!” spoke Zelos, who continued being ignored.

“It looks really complicated, too. But it must be a hassle when you need to change your clothes or something. Did you have to make holes in your uniform?”

If anyone even knew that Zelos existed, they might have noticed his look of pure befuddlement on his face.

To Colette, however, such questions made a lot of sense. “It’s actually really easy to put on! Look!” She pointed to a hidden little string that was hanging by the side of her uniform. “I use these to make them flutter, but I can put them away, too! See?” Colette pulled at the string then, and shwip! The wings folded inside themselves, all neatly against her back so that she was just a regular serving girl instead of an angel maid.

“Whoa!” Lloyd was clearly impressed. Her wings had practically vanished! “How’d you come up with that? It must have taken a while to make!”

Zelos remained in the background, frowning as hard as he could. “Dude… you are missing the whole point of this place…”

“I just worked on it a lot!” She pulled at the string once more, revealing her wings in a shower of falling sparkles. Lloyd thought it looked amazing! A customer behind Colette flinched instead, muttering about there being ‘glitter in my soup…’

Colette then raised her head up, looking towards the kitchen. “Oh, sorry I have to go now! I’ll be right back and – ah! Sorry, but did you want anything to eat?”

“Hm… those blueberry pancakes sound really good!” Lloyd said, watching the way her wings seemed to flutter on their own accord.

“Okay! I’ll be right back with your order!” Colette turned instantly, another shower of sparkles getting everywhere in the air at Zelos’ direction. He coughed and sputtered as some of the sparkles got in his throat. “Gah! Oh god there’s so much…”

Lloyd just watched all that glitter dance in the air, trailing after Colette as she skated away. “That’s so cool…”

“Hey, she still has my coffee!” Zelos whined. “Ugh, sorry, bud, but I’m gonna have to rank little miss angel a bit low.”

Zelos was really just background noise to Lloyd at this point. Those wings were so neat! Could he… huh…

“What the hell are you grinning about now?” Zelos said, grumpy that the angel café today was not exactly being the best to him right now.

“Eh, nothing, don’t worry about it,” Lloyd said, sipping at his coffee. Did he order this hot or cold? He couldn’t really remember. Oh well, not like it mattered anyway. He liked both!

“We got a new recruit coming in!”

Colette had only been working at the café for a couple of weeks, and though she had mixed up a few orders and spread her wing’s glitter wherever she went, people were so overwhelmingly fond of her. They could even forgive her tripping over her skates and breaking some tables in the process! Although when that happened, it came out of her paycheck…

So she was instantly curious when she heard she wouldn’t be the only newbie anymore! Sheena’s voice called out as the veteran waitress opened the door to the back, where Colette was putting away all the plates and cups. “Hey, Colette. Think you can help train this guy?”

“Oh?” But she was a bit new herself, and she had dropped so much silverware the past week, too. “Is that really ok-” She stopped, realizing who it was she was going to train. He stood behind Sheena, his face instantly familiar. “Lloyd?”

“Hi, Colette!” Lloyd greeted enthusiastically. He was grinning wide at her, as he did on the day she first met him. He was already wearing a serving uniform, too! A black serving apron over a white long-sleeved shirt, complete with a black bowtie! He wore it well!

She couldn’t help the smile forming on her face. “H-hi! It’s so nice to – wah!” Still carrying one of the plates, the wings she still wore snagged onto a nearby cabinet, offsetting her balance. Oh no, she was going to break something else again…

Arms enveloped her, keeping her steady and safe. “You alright?” She looked up to see Lloyd over her, getting a much better look at his outfit this time.

Sheena, standing behind them both, sighed. “Yeah… that’s one reason why I thought you two should start working together.”

Even though she was a bit embarrassed, she was glad for the boy’s arms around her. “Hehe, yeah… sorry, I keep messing up a lot.”

“Wearing those skates must be really tricky though,” Lloyd said, no blame at all in his tone. He helped her stand, hands remaining steady on her arms. “Well, I can catch you then from now on!”

“Oh? You’d do that?” Colette was a bit overwhelmed by the wealth of information happening. This time, Sheena came to her rescue for that.

“We really don’t get enough guy workers here that don’t just hole themselves up in the kitchen. Think they’re put off by the costumes. So Lloyd here is a lifesaver! It’s actually pretty lucky we already had the right size for his uniform.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to work here that much!” Colette commented.

Lloyd was looking quite excited for his new job, standing tall and proud in his server uniform. “Yeah! Hope that isn’t too weird though.”

“Not at all!” Colette had just been wondering when the nice Lloyd person would come back…

“Well, today’s your first day, so get started!” Sheena announced, already passing them by to leave them to their training. But not before she leaned down to whisper to Colette. “You know, he specifically asked for you.”

“Huh?” Colette wondered aloud, but Sheena had already gone, grabbing up a (non-broken) plate, filled with prepared pastries and drinks, and going outside.

Also, something about what her friend mentioned had made her feel so light, and even more so when she turned back to Lloyd, his smile so bright and his hair so neatly styled and yet a little ruffled looking at the same time.

“That’s really cool that you get to wear your wings all the time,” Lloyd said once they were alone. “Think I can earn mine soon?”

“Oh, you also want…” There were only maids working on the floor, but since Lloyd joined, maybe it would be different? “Wings would look cool on you! But you’d have to make them yourself!”

“Ah, I see… Then I should get started on that right now!”

“Wait, but um, you’re right that you have to earn them!” Her eyes darted to a nearby sink. “So, you’ll have to help me clean these dishes! And not break them!” Well, only she ever broke them anyway…

“Oh, that’s easy!” Lloyd said, rolling up his sleeves. “So this is part of the training?”

Maybe it was? She’d never trained anybody before, and she’d only worked here for a little while… Still, she nodded at him. “Yeah! And you have to do it fast, too!” Why did she feel so competitive suddenly?

But Lloyd only grinned, his eyes bright with eagerness. Their auburn brown matched with his hair, so open and honest. “You got it!”

Also, it was nice what he said before, about being there to catch her. Hopefully they’d work the same shifts for the most part.

“Bud?! I take you to my perfect angel paradise and this is the thanks I get?”

“So… you don’t want the frappucino then?” Lloyd asked Zelos with sincere curiosity, pen and notebook in hand.

Lloyd had only been working for a few days and was already a star server – almost as big a star as Colette, but minus the accidents. Actually, even Colette had minus the accidents herself! Lloyd was true to his word when he said he’d catch her. Customers soon couldn’t separate the pair, watching in awe as Lloyd expertly caught Colette by the waist before a plate full of cakes could tip over. Though, not everyone appreciated this heavenly combo.

“Lloyd, you just don’t fit the theme at all ,” Zelos grumbled.

“Hey, I’m working on it!” True, he kind of stood out among all the angel maids that worked there, one aspect that Zelos had definitely noticed and only grew more and more suspicious of. “Soon you’re going to see how I’ll fit right in here!”

“…Nah, I see how it is. To think, you’re not just some dumb country boy, after all…” Zelos’ expression grew quite serious, his eyes shadowed away from the slanting sunlight through the window. “Getting a job where you get to be surrounded by beautiful girls all day… why didn’t I think of that?”

Lloyd hadn’t exactly heard the last part. Zelos tended to mumble a lot when he tried to look all mysterious like that. “Okay, are you getting the frappucino or what? I have to get back to Colette to help fix up stuff.”

“See? There’s cunning underneath that hick charm! And to think I fell for it!”

Off near the other side of the café behind the counter, Sheena was busy brewing the hot drinks with Colette, and all too clearly hearing at least Zelos’ side of the conversation. “I wasn’t kidding when I said Lloyd was a lifesaver. I don’t think that redhead noticed me once today, thank goodness.”

“Well, they’re friends, so they’re both just catching up maybe!” She didn’t find Zelos to be so bad, just sometimes he laughed a bit too loudly. It always startled her enough to drop her platter, although Lloyd was usually near her to save her (and the orders).

Lloyd finally came back up to them, already moving expertly on his skates, his server apron flowing behind him in his rush. “Sorry! That took a little longer than I meant to…”

Sheena waved away his apology. “Nah, don’t worry. I already got that guy’s order ready in the meantime!”

Colette looked at the plate that Sheena now held in her hands. “Oh! I was wondering why you asked the chef for the octopus sushi.”

“Oh, but…” Lloyd looked at his notepad. “He told me he wanted the caramel frappucino.”

“Trust me, he’ll be happy with this.” Sheena smirked, the feathery wings behind her lilting along with her as she quietly snickered. It didn’t seem all that angelic. “See ya guys later!”

Once Sheena left Colette behind the counter, Lloyd placed his elbows over the wooden surface as he leaned on it, letting out a deep sigh. “Man, it’s really busy today! I could go for coffee myself…”

“Well, I could make you some!” Colette offered. “Oh, but then you would have to pay for it. Sorry.”

“I don’t really get why you’re apologizing… Oh, Colette!” Lloyd raised his head up to her excitedly. “I almost forgot. I got something to show you! You said I needed to earn my wings, right?”

“Huh? Oh! Y-yeah!” Colette felt a bit bad about that now. Lloyd could have worn wings anytime he wanted, but she liked it when they served together, or cleaned up during the closing hours, or even hung out in the back, putting away the plates and silverware. She may have been keeping him to herself a bit much…

“It’s in the back! Come on!” Lloyd was so eager that he even leaped over the counter, with skates and all, already gesturing her towards the door that led to calmer part of the kitchen. There would be no one to take charge of the counter to take up orders… but Lloyd really wanted to show her something! She couldn’t just not follow him, and before she knew it, she dashed after him, the momentum of her skates nearly making her tumble into him (he caught her just in time), and then the edge of her wings catching themselves in the doorway (which he rescued her from that too).

Eventually, they both made it behind the doors, Lloyd picking up something from the side. “I didn’t have to make holes in my shirt luckily…” he said, fitting whatever object on him like a backpack. She didn’t see what it was exactly, but she caught sight of a string hanging by the side of his uniform, jogging a familiar memory. Lloyd stood before her with his hands on his hips, clearly excited.

“Check it out!” He then pulled the handy string by his side. In a burst of azure, long wings suddenly flew up from his back. With them came a flurry of dazzling sparkles, floating through the air all around Colette and Lloyd, like starlight.

Colette gasped in surprise and wonder! “Wow! You made those?” The way the light shone made them seem so translucent, their shape strongly emulating a bird’s wings. But he didn’t stick feathers to his wings like the other servers did. They really were their own thing. “Those are beautiful!”

“Heh, yeah they’re pretty cool, huh?” He turned, and one wingtip edged along the kitchen shelf, knocking down a small pot to the floor with a clang. But it did so through a shower of glitter, so at least when it fell, it looked neat doing so! “Uh, sorry.”

Then it got her curious, all that glitter. “Do you like you using glitter too? I thought I was the only one.”

At that Lloyd grinned wide, once again showing off his equally wide wings. “I was thinking about your wings a lot when I made this! I really wanted to see if I could make something like yours! Though I guess maybe they’re a little too long, hm.” He had to sidle a bit to the right, letting one chef get by him, and not passing by unscathed, remnants of sparkles already on their sleeves.

“Something like mine?” She felt those wings of hers hang onto her uniform, where no amount of washing would ever get rid of those pink glitters that stuck to the material. They would be the same way for Lloyd’s uniform, too. “Are you sure you want something like that? Sometimes the customers complain…”

Lloyd angled his head, blinking. “Do you think I shouldn’t? I can put them away like you though! See?” He pulled at the string again, though only one wing folded back in on itself, the other still staying out. “Um, I can fix that.” Still, he looked to Colette like a happy kid in a candy shop. “I wanted to make it so we can match maybe!”

“We…” she started to say, then grew even happier at the mention once she realized. “Oh! We… we do match!”

“Hehe, yeah, that’s why I wanted to work here in the first place!” Lloyd said.

“Oh, you mean to make these wings for the café?”

“…Ah, yeah! Pretty much, yeah.” Lloyd coughed to the side, then tried pulling his string again, unhooking that one folded wing. “Think we can go out there together then? I think it’s almost lunchtime.”

“Yeah!” His unearthed wing brought forth another array of sparkles, some of them catching onto her uniform, so that it decorated her in sparkling pink and blue. She was happy, more happy than she expected herself to be. Lloyd, in his wings, smiled at her so kindly. She hoped he would stay on, and not get bored of working here… “Let’s go! I think Sheena might be- ah!”

Another trip, and another catch with Lloyd’s arms. His wings fanned out around her, letting her see that before Lloyd’s face as she turned around in his hold. “It’s too bad these wings can’t help you float,” he said, but his smile still kind.

It was strange, because she already felt so light suddenly.

“Hello! Welcome to the Wings Café!”

Genis stared blankly at the angelic duo, who had both simultaneously greeted him barely a second after he walked in. “Wow, I didn’t think Zelos was serious.”

Colette’s wings splayed out behind her in a display of pink brilliance. Her smile matched that same brightness. For the past few days, Colette felt like she was walking on air, like she really was flying high. Lloyd, standing next to her in greeting, was also smiling wide, his own wings spread out before him in several shades of blue and white.

“Genis!” Lloyd said excitedly. “So you know about this place, too? Oh yeah, this is Colette!”

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you!”

Genis also had a certain look, one that he flicked over to Lloyd and then to Colette, the shine of their wings reflecting in his eyes. “Haha, okay, I was wondering why Lloyd actually went out and got a job of all things.”

Still with that server friendly smile, Lloyd sidled up to Genis and gave him a playful tap on the head. “Shut it.”

“Ack! Okay, geez.”

Colette didn’t totally understand what this Genis person meant but she felt happy knowing another friend of Lloyd’s all the same.

“Oh yeah, there’s a free table over here-” Lloyd then turned, his wings swishing along with him. One wing slapped the back of Genis’ head in a flurry of blue sparkles.

“Gah! Lloyd!”

“Oops. Didn’t mean it that time!”

The two had already been fairly popular among the customers before, but with Lloyd’s new addition of his wings, they were a hit. More customers had started flooding the Wings Café lately, curious about the clumsy pink-winged girl that would always be caught by the blue-winged boy beside her. It didn’t matter if sometimes Lloyd and Colette would mess up an order, or accidentally serve an iced coffee instead of hot – it was hard to stay mad at either of them.

Although hearing about the only guy server in the café also brought out some troublemakers, too.

“We’ve been waiting to be served for more than ten minutes already!”

Colette turned towards the far right of the café, blinking at a pair seated. Ah right, it was the couple that had come by earlier while Lloyd had been busy helping someone. She remembered the girl hadn’t looked too happy at her greeting… Also, there was a strange, but very strong smell coming from that section. She noted quite a few tables around the two were empty. “Oh! I’m sorry, I’ll be right there!”

“That’s okay, Colette. I got it!” Lloyd quickly skated past her, his long wings somehow avoiding her, except with a small brush of the wingtip, gentle as he passed. “Colette can help you, Genis!”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’ll knock me out with her wings,” Genis muttered, trying to shake blue glitter from his long hair.

Still, Colette worried a bit. Those customers didn’t have the nicest of expressions. But Lloyd would be okay, and she wouldn’t be too far anyway.

“Decus! Ugh, stop trying to hold my hand and order me my parfait already!”

“Yes, of course! Alice, my dear, I’ll order up every parfait this dinky little café has to offer.”

“Oh, now you’re trying to get me fat? You idiot.”

They talked loud too, just another reason why some of the other customers had pointedly moved their seats further away, some even leaving early. Lloyd wasn’t getting any good vibes from these two (and the guy’s cologne was so strong it nearly stung his eyes), but he’d still give them good service. Colette had taught him that a server needed to always be cheerful for their customers! She also taught him the right way to arrange a fruit platter, and how to give a dog the perfect name… which the last one had nothing to do with the café really, but that was when they had been on their break, watching some leashed dogs pass by the windows. They had been having some left-over coffee from the morning batch, Lloyd thinking it had especially tasted nice that day.

…Anyway, where had he been going with these thoughts? Oh yeah! He had to be a good server! So, holding in his breath to try to withstand that cologne, he rolled towards them.

“Hey, sorry for the wait! What can I get ya?” He put on his smile, and puffed out his chest a little, showing off the wings he was proud of. He had worked on these for a whole night, too! Luckily, he had only fallen asleep standing on his skates once or twice that following day.

The Decus person angled his head towards Lloyd, narrowing his eyes underneath a fringe of dark violet hair. He had on a jacket whose fur collar nearly hid his mouth – but not enough. Lloyd could see his deep frown.

“You can get us our time back! Any longer and my Alice would have died from starvation!”

“Stop calling me fat!” Alice yelled, before turning to Lloyd with a sneer. “Oh, so you’re the new hot server everyone’s raving about? I expected a little more…”

“Is it too warm in here?” Lloyd inquired helpfully. “I guess I can tell them to turn down the heat.”

Alice kept smiling, unkind in all its curves. “Oh, that’s cute.”

This didn’t make Decus happy at all. “Hey buddy, you better keep your eyes off her! Guys like you… thinking you can get anyone at anytime!”

Was this guy a friend of Zelos or something? “Er, okay. You sound kinda hoarse there. Did you need some water first?”

Alice was not just smiling but laughing at this point. “Decus, I’m sure you too could make some crayon drawings of wings if you tried!”

Lloyd wasn’t really liking their tone here… Also, were they making fun of his wings now?

“Those wings are not my style, Alice! I mean, unless you want me to wear them? Do… do you want me to? I’ll wear anything for you!”

“Haha! You’re such a loser, Decus!”

Yeah, he was getting a bad vibe from these two for sure. But he had to keep on smiling! “Hey, so, did you guys want to order something? I’ll get it for you fast!”

Alice turned to him with another of those weird smiles of her own. “Hm, don’t we get a discount though? For making us wait for so long?”

“Um, well, I’d have to ask my manager about that…” But he knew Sheena was busy right now, so...

“Just going to make us wait longer then? What terrible service!” Decus was talking really loudly again, swishing back his ponytail, and with that motion, a waft of his cologne went straight into Lloyd’s face. He had to turn to the side and cough. Okay, that scent was awful.

“And he’s sick, too!” Decus yelled. “I’m calling the health inspector! Don’t you dare get my Alice sick!”

What? “I’m not sick!” he said back, inwardly wincing at his tone. He had only been working here for about a week and was already bringing trouble to the café. Although he was already aware of how bad these guys were… “I’ll get you a discount then. Just let me know what you want.” Usually getting orders didn’t take this long.

Meanwhile, said Alice leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a pout. “I think we should get our drinks for free. Sick on the job, late on getting to our table, and yelling at my boyfriend?” She took out her phone, tapping away at the screen. “If not, I’ll have to leave a bad review on this place…”

Decus turned to her with wide and happy eyes. “B-boyfriend? So that means you-!”

“Oh my god, Decus, shut up.”

Gah, now he was going to lower their star rating too? Lloyd felt helpless, annoyed, and frankly, a little angry. “Okay! I’ll get you stuff for free, just tell me what you want.” Guess he was going to be paying their tab...

Alice thought for an increasingly long time, making Lloyd finding it a bit hard to stay still on his skates. “First, do something fun for us! Do a dance with those wings of yours!”

…Yeah, he was done with this. “No.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Oh? But you were being such a good servant boy!”

“Look, seriously. You guys need to order something if you’re going to be here.” He didn’t put up a smile anymore, and he hoped this wouldn’t mess up his chances with… “Also, your yelling is disturbing the other customers.” He knew why no one wanted to be near these two.

“Oh? Is that a problem?” Decus was sneering. “We’re not just bothering you, are we?”

“Maybe a little bit!” Lloyd said, losing his cool. Crap.

That was when a hand shot out to grab at him – or at his wing, actually! It nearly made him stumble on his skates, but he was able to keep his balance, if only slightly. “Hey! Let go!”

Decus only tightened his fist, enough to bend the wingtip and warp the shape. “What kind of guy wears these anyway?”

No one was nearby to hear his trouble, everyone already scared away by the cologne. Lloyd’s first instinct was to push the guy away… but he couldn’t do that to a customer. He’d get fired for sure! And if he got fired, then he wouldn’t be able to see-

“Lloyd! Is everything okay?”

At the familiar voice, he turned, finding Colette already skating towards him. She looked worried, her own wings fluttering behind her, even more glitter getting onto the floor. The floorboards were practically painted over with the stuff, reflecting pink and blue. She was rushing though, probably more than they were allowed to…

Also, she was carrying a plate full of drinks and cakes in her hands as she did so.

Lloyd already knew the outcome, but with the guy holding onto his wing, enough to tear the fabric a little, he couldn’t go to Colette to catch her. “Wait! Colette! You’re going to-“

“Ah, whoops!”

The plate flew through the air, the drinks and cakes already past saving, seeming to go in slow-motion. Half of the Wings Café menu were quickly being delivered to the mean couple. At the very least, it got the Decus guy to finally let him go in order to try to save himself… even if it was in vain.

It was kind of a real mess afterwards.

“Agh! Decus, this is all your fault!”

Lloyd had rushed over to Colette, ignoring the fact that both Decus and Alice were trying to get frosting and caramel out of their hair. “You okay?”

Colette craned her head up, smiling with shame. “Ehehe… I messed up.”

The Wings Café never had a banned customer’s list before, but Lloyd felt some sense of relief when he helped post up both Alice and Decus’ pictures on the wall, showcasing other servers on who to never let in again. “Man, I’m really surprised I didn’t get in trouble for this…”

It was closing time right about now, and he and Colette were scheduled to help lock things up, and do any last-minute cleaning. Right now, Colette was quickly sweeping up the floors, free now of crumbs, lint, and a few extra sparkles, even though most sparkles were too impossible to ever get rid of. “When I told the boss about how they hurt your wings, he understood completely! He’s very nice.”

“You know, since I started working here, I don’t think I ever met our boss. You always make him sound like this perfect person…” Could Lloyd hope to be as cool as this mysterious man in charge?

“Oh, Mr. Kratos is very kind!” She came up to him, most of her sweeping now done. “He just has a serious face. He’d look nice in wings too if he wore them, I think.”

Something about that irritated Lloyd just a little. But a quick look at his wings, one of them now twisted at the end, the glitter having been swiped away, made him sigh. “Maybe I should stop wearing these things.”

“Oh… do you not like your wings anymore?” Colette fiddled with the broom handle, looking down. “You worked so hard on them.”

“Yeah, I did… but they keep getting in the way of people, don’t they? And then they can just be messed up easily like this…” He shook his head, looking to the floor, so messy now because of him. “Maybe those two were right though. They just look dumb on me.”

“I… I don’t think that’s true at all!”

Startled by the sudden emotion in Colette’s voice, Lloyd turned back to her. She had moved nearer, her blue eyes glinting with confidence.

“Colette?”

“Lloyd, everyone has been happy ever since you started working here. And people love your wings! We get more and more customers coming by because of you.”

“People come by to see you too!” He argued, but she only continued.

“Your wings really do look great, Lloyd. And…the fact that you wanted to make them because of me, that made me very happy.” Her voice got quiet. “I’ve been so happy since you started working with me.”

With that, the reason why he applied for this job in the first place came back to him in full clarity.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask-” He stepped forward, and felt himself slip, his skates catching on something unseen. Oh right, he was still wearing the skates…

Colette tried to keep him steady, she really did! Her arms reached out to wrap around his waist, but Lloyd was heavier than her, with longer legs that tripped hers. It was difficult keeping control of her own skates, and combined with Lloyd's didn’t make things much easier.

With a clatter, both fell to the floor, a shower of blue and pink floating in the air around them, catching the light of the café’s lamps. He felt a little crunch behind him, his wings suffering another injury today. Ah man...

“I- I’m so sorry, Lloyd! Are you okay?”

A little dazed, but Lloyd recovered, already sitting up. He leaned just a bit on his side, his bulky skates getting in the way of any comfort. “Yeah, it’s okay, I’m fine-” He stopped when he realized her face was near his, looking so concerned, her eyes open with worry.

“You’re really not hurt? I tried to hold on… but I couldn’t. I’m such a klutz. I think I messed up your wings a little too… I’m so sorry.”

In her trip, she had fallen just a bit over him. She began to move away, the glitter getting into her hair, her legs also stretched out awkwardly due to her skates. Through it all, her wings stayed in shape, always seeming to flutter whenever she moved. But there was more to her than that, like the way she held a mug so carefully in both hands, trying to safeguard it from future falls, or how she could tease him back just as easily, though one would never guess at first. The times she stuck her tongue out at him when the soap suds from his dishwashing got into his hair had been numerous, and each one always got him laughing.

The reason why he wanted to be here still resounded in his head.

Before she could completely go, Lloyd reached for her hands. This made her pause, looking at their connection before raising them back to his face.

“Uh,” he started, suddenly drawing a complete blank until... “Hey, uh, did you want to get coffee later?”

Colette was clearly confused by his sudden question, but that didn’t stop her from answering him. “Oh, I can get us some now if you want! I think it might be kinda old after being in the machine all day though.”

“Ah, no, not that!” Lloyd looked again to the ground, the floor a sparkling mess of blue and pink, their own bodies sprawled on it. More glitter that would never come off would be on their uniforms, but that had never bothered him. He still felt her grip in his hands. “I mean, like… somewhere else? Or it can be here, too! But I mean, when we’re not working?”

Colette blinked, framed by her wings still, by her hair, by the uniform that was slightly ruffled. The silence stretched on, making Lloyd drastically rethink his life choices. The urge to move his legs was getting strong, but well, that was hard to do now.

“Sorry, never mind, we don’t need to-”

“Okay.”

Lloyd hesitated. “…Okay, we don’t need to? Or… to the other thing?”

He felt her clasp their hands tighter. Somehow, glitter had gotten on their fingers, too! But Lloyd didn’t mind still. He felt Colette didn’t either. “To the other thing!”

He gripped her hands back, unable to stop smiling, his cheeks aching from the strain. But he didn’t want to stop.

“Um, well alright!” Those were lame words to her acceptance, but his happiness was indescribable now. “So maybe like… after we’re done here?”

Colette nodded her head. “Yeah, of course!” She looked around them, trying to pull her knees in with some slowness. “Um, just gotta figure out how to get up…”

“Oh yeah… well, we got time!” He straightened, hearing the flap of his left wing. It tilted a little, looking forlorn, though still shining bright. “Hm, though I’m going to need to fix up these wings later..”

He felt Colette’s thumb rub against his hand in thought. “Does that mean you’ll still wear them then?”

Lloyd gave her a grin. “Well, yeah. I have to keep these if I’m gonna be staying here, right? Or we wouldn’t match anymore.”

Colette giggled softly, more softer than usual. He liked that. “You’re right! And.. I’ll help, too! If that’s okay.”

At that moment, Lloyd really felt like he was on wings, more than ever before.

Bonus:

The door chimed. Both Lloyd and Colette turned, ready with their smiles. “Hello! Welcome to the Wings-“

“Hold on! Quiet for a sec! The Great Zelos is joining your staff!”

Lloyd kept on smiling, looking so perfectly cheerful. “No you’re not.”

Zelos was taken aback by his best bud’s assurance. “Y-yeah, I am! Look! I even made my own wings!” He pointed behind him at some third-rate cardboard version of what looked like Lloyd and Colette’s wings coming out of his back… kind of. The wings were cut out lazily, the angles all sharp and uneven. It was painted orange, and half of the glitter was already washed off after having not being coated with care.

“Get ready for angel Zelos, serving all the pretty ladies here!”

Colette smiled politely. “Um! Looks… okay!”

One wing fell to the floor in a heap with a loud rip. Zelos blinked at it, a little confused as to how this happened.

In the back, Sheena’s uproarious laughter could be heard.

“Oh, I guess someone told Sheena a really good joke,” Colette thought aloud.

#colloydweek2019 #lloyd irving #colette brunel #tales of symphonia #colloyd #zelos wilder #sheena fujibayashi #fanfiction #one shot #THIS IS REALLY LONG SORRY #i just want colloyd in a coffee shop all the time

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jayykesley · 5 years

Note

8-10, 16-22 for ALL OF YOUR OCS FROM "THE APPRENTICES" (really the main ones: Carson, Lorelei, Derick, Rosalyn, Roswell, and a bonus OC of your choice)

8. What clothing style?

Lorelei: Very girly, so she wearsprimarily dresses and skirts and high heels. Kind of a sparkly-girly-librariantype of look? Pockets added to everything obviously, as well as tulle or lacetrim, just to make any outfit have that little extra SomethingTM.

Carson: His style is likecombination lumberjack-slash-fifties(?) look, like he’s got the rugged jeansand the white t-shirt with the short sleeves rolled up just below the shouldersand the red plaid overshirt. He prefers casual, loose-fitting clothes. Allabout comfort and mobility and wearing things until they fall apart.

Derick: Because of his childhood andthe culture he grew up in, Derick’s style consists mainly of dress pants andfitted button-ups w/ vests/suspenders/ties/etc. Not always particularlycomfortable, but he feels sorely underdressed and out-of-place in anythingless.

Rosalyn: If a piece of clothing fitsher larger frame, and can hide stains for at least a little while, Rosalyn willwear it. Mostly wears sleeveless shirts, or cuts the sleeves off, because shehas broad shoulders and large arms that don’t always fit comfortably in theshirts she finds. Has like one (1) pair of loose cargo pants that she’s beenwearing for literal years and refuses to get rid of. Neutral colors mostly soshe doesn’t have to think about matching stuff.

Roswell: I imagine him wearingregular old jeans, but with either comfy sweaters or fun graphic tees that hegets his hands on. He’s not picky about clothing, but he does like to have funso his shirts are always brightly colored with reds or yellows or purples.

Valentina/Violet (I can’t land on aname for her for some reason): Similar to Lorelei, in that she’s very girly,but definitely not “librarian chic”. Vibrant pinks, glitter, maybe some furoccasionally if she’s going out? Crop tops are a definite staple in her closet.

9. What is their favourite foodafter a break-up?

Lorelei: Her favorite comfort food,especially after getting her heart broken, would probably be frozen yogurt or agiant cinnamon bun glazed in icing. Something sweet and filling that you mightnot have on a daily basis.

Carson: Soft pretzels nachos, pasta,just something that is absolutely soggy in melted cheese.

Derick: Not so much food, but wineor some other alcoholic drink that would make him forget how bad he feels abouthimself

Rosalyn: Red meat, which is what sheeats a lot of to begin with, but just way way more stuff those badfeelings away

Roswell: Candy. He’d just shoveldown handfuls of jolly ranchers and licorice, ignoring how gross he feels veryquickly after doing this

V: Chocolate covered strawberriesand caramel apples and every sweet thing she shared with the boy because shedoesn’t need him to enjoy things she doesn’t miss him she never evencared that much about him to begin with--

10. Their favourite thing to doafter a break-up?

Lorelei/V: Watch bad movies togetherand have a girls night: popcorn, ice cream, probably watch Legally Blonde. Oneis always right there ready to comfort the other when it seems like thingsmight go sorrow.

Carson: He throws himself into a newproject, whether that’s working on Bonnie, his car, or crafting something outof wood. Carson gets attached and wears his heart on his sleeve, so no matterhow short the relationship was, he’s probably hurting quite a lot. When hefeels like he’s got a handle on the situation, then he can talk to Lorelei andwork on moving on.

Derick: Just gets real depressed andsleeps/watches TV a lot. Leaves the house/showers/cleans even less than usual.Eventually he’ll get out of his funk, but it might take him a while.

Rosalyn: Probably trains to workthrough her emotions; first she’s angry because she feels like that personwasted her time, then she feels embarrassed for letting herself be hopeful likethat, then angry again... it’s a vicious cycle, and one she’s working on.

Roswell: Cry and talk to literallyanyone who will listen. Obviously everybody is more than happy to be hisshoulder to cry on, but Roswell bounces back about as quickly as he fell forthe girl in the first place.

16. Their favourite comfort food?

Same as the break-up food, comfort food is really what I was thinking ofwhen I answered that question

17. What’s a food they hate?

Lorelei: Probably something likemeat loaf? It’s cheap, somewhat filling, and easy to make so it’s often whather mother used to make when she was a child. It wasn’t bad necessarily, buthaving multiple times a week for years has made her nauseous at the thought ofit

Carson: There really isn’t a lotCarson won’t eat. Originally Victor wasn’t a very good chef, so Carson wasresigned to eating either burnt/undercooked meals or microwave dinners for hischildhood. Maybe something like liver he might refuse.

Derick: He’ll eat meat, but he won’teat meat that still resembles the animal when it was alive -- fish that isn’tfried or in some way no longer resembles fish, he won’t eat. Doesn’t eatchicken legs or anything like that either.

Rosalyn: Bread. Specifically, whitebread. No one can figure out why, but Rosalyn absolutely positively will notconsume plain white bread. Everyone thinks its some big thing, but she swearsup and down it’s just that it grosses her out.

Roswell: Again, eats nearlyeverything. Maybe won’t eat oatmeal, because that’s just sloppy slime andRoswell can’t do that

V: Microwave meals that taste likemicrowave meals (which obvi is 99% of them). She swears she can taste theplastic film in the food.

18. Their music taste?

Lorelei/V: Love radio-pop. Ifeel like they’d both be huge fans of people like Ariana Grande and Ed Sheeranand people like that

Carson: He’s a sucker for 80′s and90′s rock and pop; Survivor, Billy Joel, Britney Spears, all that good stuff

Derick: Not really picky aboutmusic? Usually just listens to whatevers on. Probably a secret Emo Kid

Rosalyn: Really prefers classicalinstrumental music. She doesn’t zone out often, but instrumental music helpsher relax the few times she feels she’s allowed to.

Roswell: Would probably be reallyinto disco and/or Disney soundtracks?? Also a huge musical nerd, so Broadwaysoundtracks are his JAM

19.Is there a story behind their name/meaning?

Lorelei: I thought that “Lorelei”was a very pretty name and that it was a shame more characters weren’t calledthat. “Bullock” was a placeholder until I settled on her “real” last name, butBullock stuck so

Carson: Intended to remind me thathe would resemble Carswell Thorne in personality/serve as a place holder aswell (he’s changed a bit from his original design). “Davies” is the last nameof one of the original inspirations for the character Peter Pan, and was toserve as a reminder that Carson is a more relaxed, care-free person

Derick: No special meaning, justcame to me moments after I decided he was birthed from my mind-hole and thename has stuck ever since.

Rosalyn: Saw that picture that Ialways use as my face-claim for her, instantly decided she was either a“Rosalyn” or a “Rosalind”. I went with Rosalyn because, i dunno i just thoughtit fit her better.

Roswell: Originally he was going tobe called “Brandon” or something similar, but I came across the name “Roswell”and thought “oh yeah thatd be funny, Rosalyn and Roswell” and, well, as withevery character, the name just stuck

Violet/Valentina: Originally“Violet”, but I’ve since done some work on her character and feel that“Valentina” fits her better, but my mind is still latched onto “Violet”, soI’ve been calling her V for the time being.

20.Something they do that seems childish to others?

Lorelei/V: Not childish per se, butpeople might think them immature since they really like fashion and makeup andpretty things

Carson: Sings to himself constantly.

Derick: It might seem childish tosomeone who’s never owned a pet, but oh my gosh the flip-flopping betweenbaby-talking to Ragsy, and having a full-on real conversation with her

Rosalyn: Pinky promises. Not onlydoes she hold promises as Law, but pinky promises are the Highest Law

Roswell: His long run-on sentencesand tendency to speak rapidly in giant chunks. He can come off like an excitedlittle kid, but really he just hasn’t lost his sense of wonder for the world.

21.What is their all-time favourite TV show?

Lorelei: Great British Bake Off.I’ve never personally seen it, but it sounds like something she’d love XD

Carson: How It’s Made

Derick: Painting with Bob Ross

Rosalyn: Ancient Aliens

Roswell: I sat here for ten minutesand i genuinely cannot think of what his favorite show would be, so thanksHobbs XD

V: Catfish

22. What is their all-time favoritemovie?

Lorelei: 2005 Pride and Prejudice

Carson: HSM 2

Derick: All Dogs Go To Heaven/Aristocats

Rosalyn: National Treasure

Roswell: Jungle Book

V: Black Panther (because she’s real into Michael B. Jordan)

Sorry this is late, but I wanted to give real good answers. Thanks!

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thefilmsimps · 2 years

Text

Infernal Affairs (dir. Andrew Lau & Alan Mak)

-Jere Pilapil- Listen, I’ll try to write about this movie without mentioning The Departed eventually, but as an American viewer who probably never would have heard of this without the remake, I can only view it through that lens. That said, I definitely feel like this movie having an American remake is one of the great monkey paw deals in all of cinema. Thanks to The Departed, Infernal Affairs will always have an audience of/be of interest to American cinephiles (and maybe more, depending on how much other countries care about Oscars). As part of the trade, though, it’ll always be in debate with its remake, which is an extremely different type of movie with extremely different goals. It can’t win on prestige, or probably distribution. But people will see it, and that’s good.

If I could boil down the difference between Infernal Affairs and The Departed into one sentence, it would be this: The Departed is a Martin Scorsese movie about obsessive, soul-eroding guilt and pain first and a cop movie second; Infernal Affairs is the reverse (wow, kind of like how the two main characters in these movies are parallels in reverse, damn). I jive with The Departed more, though I can see where it might come off as melodramatic if someone thought Infernal Affairs was more subtle about the same themes. But it’s ultimately apples and oranges: Infernal Affairs is more about getting the story across, and it’s an intense story about parallel moles among a gang and a police force.

Tony Leung Chiu-Wai stars as a cop undercover with a gang, and Andy Lau is a gangster undercover with the police. They’ve been at it too long: Leung’s superior accuses him of buying into his gangster life too much and is the only person left on the force who knows his true identity. Lau has risen up the ranks and is a high-level police officer with a fiancé and an enviable life. And the movie spends its duration playing cat and mouse with them as their respective organizations realize they have a mole in their ranks (lotta animal metaphors here).

The top thing this movie has is its pacing: this movie is slimmed down to the bone, with everything placed perfectly for this story to come through. The performances by the leads are excellent, but the thing that always comes through when I rewatch this is how no scene overstays its welcome, and every character’s motivations and actions are clear, serving to create greater tension as these characters barrel closer and closer to a confrontation. Unfortunately, this also means that secondary and tertiary characters seem to just exist as either emotional hooks or to move the plot along.

As an undercover cop movie, though, Infernal Affairs is better than most movies about police (or gangsters). It’s full of nail-biting scenarios where either of our leads might come out on top or be found out through their ingenuity. To an extent, I’d say its attempts to convey this Buddhist idea of an “endless hell” (via intertitles at the start and end of the movie) are undercooked (you can argue The Departed is over-cooked about that shit; I wouldn’t get mad). Strictly in terms of telling a story of two people on opposite sides of the tracks, though, it’s a powerful bit of a tightrope act. 8/10

#movie review #Hong Kong cinema #police #ACAB especially this one

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stuffedeggplants · 3 years

Note

From your cooking asks: 8. Do you have any amusing kitchen disaster anecdotes? & 15. Favorite dish/meal to make for friends/family? 💖💖

Saddest disaster: Dropping the entire pot of beautifully prepared ramen all over the kitchen floor. Not even the soft-boiled egg survived. 😓 Honestly I just slumped into a chair and stared and what I’d done for a solid two minutes.

Most dangerous disaster: Eating undercooked chicken of the woods mushrooms I’d foraged from a eucalyptus tree and subsequently poisoning myself. I’d mixed chopped pieces into a stuffing I’d made for vegetables but the stuffing didn’t cook evenly I think. I got sick maybe 20 minutes after and it really spooked me. When I felt better I threw the food away and did some research- apparently the mushroom I used has been known to make you sick if you harvest it from a eucalyptus, especially if you don’t cook it properly.

Greatest disaster: The muffin saga, hands down. It’s actually two disasters which combined and transcended, becoming something greater.

So in undergrad once I’d gotten out of the dorms, I went on a big cooking kick, deciding to make as much from scratch as possible. I wanted to make sourdough bread but with a starter I’d ‘grow’ myself from wild, ambient yeast. The starter would take about a week to fully grow and develop until I could bake with it. Everything was fine for a few days, but I think around day four or five something happened and the bubbles died completely. I tried to rescue it (do not ask me how I cannot remember and there is very likely a reason,) but it morphed into this weird almost pinkish-looking monstrosity that developed a creepy skin on top and a strange smell than hung around in the local atmosphere like a medieval curse. Oh I was also doing this in one of those big industrial plastic buckets you’d mix paint in or something, so it had some serious “throw this shit away immediately before you trap us in a monster scifi film from the 1950s” vibes going on. At this point my apartment collectively decided this was all over. I had nothing left to lose so I suggested we attempt baking with it, and my roommates actually agreed to this out of morbid curiosity. One even let me use her muffin pan to bake this “stuff” in and I think we added food coloring to some for fun.

What we got were perfectly smooth, completely flawless muffins with conical tops that were hard as stone. They looked like plastic. We couldn’t break them or cut into them. They had no scent and we were too afraid to lick them. We dropped one off the balcony and it survived the two story drop completely in tact. So obviously I kept them- what else do you do when your inability to follow baking instructions thrusts you into the discovery of a new form of matter?

The second part to the story is me ruining candied orange peels in a big way. Basically I abandoned the pot of pure sugar syrup with some scrawny peels flung in and only returned when the smoke alarm forced me to confront black smoke pillowing out of a pot whose contents had been transmuted into the crust over Anakin’s severed limbs on Mustafar. I don’t know if the pot survived honestly, but we did get black sludge. Plentttyyy of black sludge.

For some reason (lmao I don’t need a reason) I decided (or we decided? honestly it could’ve been anyone but the individual responsible is not important) to "ice” one of the “muffins” I’d kept around in the sludge. Once it dried, the top was perfectly smooth and shiny black. The rest still looked like plastic. Another win for science. I think we used it on my roommate’s mini Christmas tree? Either that or we for sure gave it a place of honor right next to it. Eventually we tried really hard to destroy the muffin and see what it looked like inside, but I don’t remember how and I don’t think it looked special inside. So that was the end of that.

15.

I love cooking and seeing people happy so I’ll pretty much enjoy cooking absolutely whatever for friends and family. I just want everyone to feel relaxed and happy, and laugh and have a good time.

So here are nice memories:

- Making the best Thanksgiving turkey my roommate had ever had for our apartment celebration, hands down. It was glazed in apricot jam mixed with citrus and some various herbs, and stuffed with lemons and more herbs and a ton of good stuff. Don’t remember much about it but I was stoked she loved it so much.

- Making fresh roti for my roommates to go with our meal. (We’d cook dinner together and rotate who the main person responsible was.) It literally disappeared as it was served because they were eating them as I was finishing cooking them, they loved them so much.🥰

- Chai! One of my Pakistani friends came over with a group of our friends and I made them all chai. He really liked it and said it reminded him of his mom’s back home. ;_;

- Trying to make kakaós csiga for my grandma and her coming into the kitchen like “no” and correcting everything that I was doing wrong but not telling me how I was wrong lmfao.

- My parents are always happy with whatever I make so I have absolutely no way to know for sure if it’s actually good or if they just love me. 😂

- Wanting to make muttai kuzhambu (like an egg curry from Southern India where they’re from) for my boyfriend because they’re technically not supposed to eat eggs for religious reasons so they don’t keep them at home but they do eat them anyway outside the home cuz well it’s just like that sometimes, lol. So it’s the f o r b i d d e n d i s h. 👀

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mateoshea-blog · 7 years

Text

Pink Clouds & Pocket Lint

Part I

“Grabmeuhcouplecokes… cotton mouth y’kno?” as Fast Eddie chokes out the last toke of the roach. Quickly, Fast Eddie stashes the funky skunky stuff into an old oxidized ALTOIDS can – MADE IN GREAT BRITIAN, NT WT 1.76 OZ (50g). Fast Eddie had this logic that if he collected all his roaches, he could pawn off the “1.76 OZ of homegrown” to some free-lancing left-brained Polo wearing yuppie college kid for 50 bones. If anyone could pull a stunt like that, it was Fast Eddie.

“Yafuckinkiddinme! ‘Spose I’ll hoof it across the street to PAULIE’S CORNER STORE since Pizza Face and Pretty Boy both got Cerebral Palsy all-a-sudden” – Yeah, that’s the villain I been scheming with since I got clipped from the umbilical cord. Fast Eddie, guy was a maniac with a potato head. But, his barber scalped a fade around his temples to precision. Jesus, I mean his barber was his actual wingman. He’d tell us to go to the gay barber. We’d be sitting in at SPEEDY’S CUTS while Fast Eddie was choppin’ the locks and we’d overhear,

“Fast Eddie what work will my soft hands be doing today?”

And Fast Eddie would dish it right back, “If you wanna play with more than these locks later, what would you want my sex hair to look like in the morning?”

Just like that, Fast Eddie had undercooked and greasy golden French fries atop his potato head. Slicked back and thin cut, ready to serve. Ready to be swallowed into a cheap customer’s mouth. That’s why the drunks, gays, straights, in betweeners, freaks, creeps, geeks and neighbors all liked the fucking guy. Blue collar, told it how it was, and even offered a third hand when his other two were tied up someone else’s ass!

I could see Fast Eddie still jerking around across the street. Shootin’ the shit with the local folk. More than just a “It’s so warm in here!” small talk guy. Nobody remembers the shmuck with a dull personality. Fast Eddie could make a blind guy fantasize about the cashier at PAULIE’S just by the way he worked his tongue into imagery. He had it. Coupleuhcokes turns into Fast Eddie holding the door open for any pretty broad that gives him the slightest amount of eye contact (the polarizing effect of a good haircut). Perfect case study for Freud.

The musty haze of the hotboxed jalopy paranoid the living daylights outta me! We could get high in any partatown and Fast Eddie always coerced us to smoking in his car. Never got to enjoy my high, could never even tell if I was even high at all. The mirrors read “OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR” – that’s for damn sure. Mirrors were always staring at me with a never-ending time-warped nightmare. I’d get stuck in the mud with the Piggy’s that busted me with the joint that was burning away my dreams of CALIFORNIA COAST. I could only roll in this mud pit for so long until the objects in the mirror become reality.

Julian senses that one of my classic paranoia episodes is imminent. An observant learner, personal therapist, and mediator. Some of his unpaid roles. He uses the crank on both doors to roll down the clouded condensated windows.

“Carlton man, you love riding on the shoulder” chuckled Julian as he lounged in the plush back seat of the Caravelle.

“This is why I hate smokin’ grass, now you’re speaking straight from the hole that I call your CHAFFED LOOSE ASS!”

“Naw man… see listen, you ride the shoulder too much. That motherfucker ahead is always driving 5 miles per hour under the speed limit. You let him. And he owns you. He holds you back. He controls the rate at which you reach your destination. Shiiiit, if you ever reach it. You can’t pass him, you stay leaning on that white cozy shoulder called COMFORTABILITY. When you gonna pass the mothefucker ahead of you that’s been controlling you? When you gonna take EXIT 52 towards IMFUCKINFREEVILLE?”

I can’t even flip this one on Julian, “Yeah well I can’t ride yours and Fast Eddie’s coattails for too long now. IMFUCKINFREEVILLE has a population of some twenty million people. Once the weather vane in my oversaturated brain oozes out some hope and blows WESTWARD, I will pass that motherfucker ahead of me. No turning signal either. Imma trade in the cozy white shoulder for some dotted yellow cheese.”

“Carlton… that motherfucker dragging ass is YOU. Pass him with a prayer, leave him in the rearview.”

Julian, the backseat monk. Met him after I graduated high school. P.F. Flyer’s always crispy white, not ever one crease, not ever one scuff. Always thought he would become some materialistic rich prick. Prejudgment without contempt. Stupid me. Materialism attached to the developing brains of us high schoolers. Some shake it and others go to Universities to chase degrees that breed greed. Julian didn’t let the manmade cancer infiltrate him. He ended up rolling with us Proletariat outlaws. Somewhere, Karl Marx is grinning at me for my recruitment.

We had 30 minutes, precisely, to make it to the liquor store. Saturday’s were always the night for our bender.

Fast Eddie had this shit-eatin’ grin on his face when jogged back over the ’85 Caravelle, “Christ Almighty! Fast Eddie were you rubbing one out in PAULIE’S bathroom or sumthin’? We’re alloutta Jameson and you know we are 20 miles from the liquor store and it’s already 8:30!”

Liquor stores were no joking matter, we only found one that never had us show I.D. Plus, Fast Eddie grew a liking to the geyser that worked there. A sad babbling sack of space that got comfortable and stuck with one job his whole life. Bubbling and babbling, day in and day out. Shook so many times that he eventually became flat too.

“Pizza Face and Pretty Boy… always so self-interested. Gonna catch up to you shits soon enough.” Fast Eddie inserted the crusted key into the ignition of the Caravelle – DOOOP, DOOOP, DOOOP. God knows how many germs were on that steering wheel. Thick coats of compiled grease, excess secretions, and the fluids from various estranged females that Fast Eddie coxed in to his traveling fuck-pen. Law of superposition says oldest layers were on the bottom. I’d rather not know these things, but the smell invades my nostrils like the troops on D-DAY. Can’t even condition or desensitize myself to this aroma. Unrelenting attacks by the smell of Fast Eddie’s ball sweat and lingering remnants of a poor mans weed. I want to take a shower.

“Saturday Night. Dropping the needle down on a dusty B-Side for all you crazed, erotic, and hormonal souls cruising around looking for trouble. How about that L.A. WOMAN track… 1971. The Doors.” Slick Tom, our favorite disc jockey the night of a bender. Always reliable to set the tone.

Fast Eddie pounced on the pedal as Jim Morrison screeched sonic sex through the speakers, “Oh shit yeah fellas, we’re on the move. ‘MR. MOJO RISIN!’”

We punched it onto RT. 5. The faster route according to Fast Eddie, but it was actually the scenic route for him. He loved cruising past the prestigious Victorian style homes and dissecting what kind of conversations happen between the walls of those monasteries.

Fed up with the scenery after 3 miles, Fast Eddie barks “I bet these rich prick Dad’s just read the STOCK MARKET page in section B5 of the WALL STREET JOURNAL and ask their rich prick wives and rich prick kids where they wanna go on vacation next once the rich prick Dad’s inside trade deal hits on Monday morning.”

“Put the boner back in your pants, you’ll get your dividends too once you start pushing your roach filled ALTOIDS cans to the future homeowners of these fucking houses!”

Fast Eddie snapped right back at me, “I swear I’ll ash my next roach on that smirk of yours, Pizza Face. Maybe that’ll make you look more appetizing.”

Julian leaned in from the backseat, “AN ENDLESS PISSING MATCH, don’t your sacks ever go dry? Your testicles are attached right to your egos. Big swollen ball sacks swinging back and forth back and forth. Blowing your load all over one another day in and day out! It’s exhausting, your egos need a vasectomy!”

Just like that, right when Fast Eddie and I erupted, Julian cooled us down at the surface like molten rock. Crystallizing and metamorphosing into conglomerate. Needed him to flush our egos out. Needed to stop treating him like my urinal cake.

Fast Eddie swerved and weaved around the slow-moving masses of society that had no agenda for the night. Maybe they did. Maybe this is my self-interested motivations speaking again. I hated how maliciously Fast Eddie rounded the corners. Guard rails could’ve skinned my fingertips if I cracked the window open. This was Fast Eddie’s route. Knew every stop sign, timed every red light, and new all the lucrative hideouts where the Piggy’s patrolled.

It was 8:47, the odometer of the Caravelle twitched another mile on the dash. Only two miles remained between the three Proletariat outlaws and our enabler.

My second paranoia episode ensues, “Holy Shit Fast Eddie, you’re doing 55 in a school zone!”

“Who says I wanna choke down Jameson tonight? I’ll turn into De Niro from TAXI DRIVER if you don’t shut the hell up”

Just like that GUMBALLS GUMBALLS GUMBALLS flash in the mirrors. Objects in the mirror are becoming closer than they appear. Nightmare come true. I’m fucking doomed. We are fucking doomed. My self-interest putting me first.

“GODFUCKINGDAMMIT EDDIE! Mile away, no traffic, all interstate and now I’m gonna get jammed up with the Pigs!”

Fast Eddie retaliates, “Me, me, me! You squeal just like a fucking pig!” He takes the pressure from my brain and applies it to the pedal, POUNCE.

Julian has been around Fast Eddie enough to know that he will go to extremes to prove a point, “Fast Eddie c’mon man be cool, WE all ain’t trying to get canned. WE got living to do.”

Fast Eddie has that same shit-eatin’ grin that I seen earlier, “Fine I’ll pull this piece over. But, you don’t speak Pig Latin, got it?”

“What the hell do you mean!”

That’s all I was left to work with during my waning moments of freedom. The cop high tailed it over to the Caravelle. Tiny hairs, all a half inch long stick straight up and down on the officer’s fat head. Level one blade to navigate his temples, had to be Fast Eddie’s barber. I’m sweating bullets. The plate tectonics of my face begin to emerge. Premature pimples surface and I feel the magma boiling under the crust of my skin.

Fast Eddie rolls down the window, “HANDS ON THE WHEEL OR BRAINS ON THE WHEEL NOW”

My stomach launches acid into the back of my throat. Fast Eddie complies. Answers to an authority figure. No finger-fucking around.

“NOT ONLY ARE YOU THREE LITTLE SHITS A LIABILITY ON THIS ROAD, DO I HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE YOU WERE SMOKING MARIJUANA?”

Julian hasn’t flinched and Fast Eddie’s mute. Fast Eddie’s still got that shit-eatin’ grin on his face.

“AM I SPEAKING FUCKIN GREEK? IS THERE MARIJUANA IN THIS VEHICLE, THIS IS THE LAST TIME I WILL ASK BEFORE I SHAKE YOU DOWN TO YOUR PALE PEACH FUZZED ASSES!”

In my peripheral I see the ALTOIDS can staring at me. Rusted smile, MADE IN GREAT BRITIAN. 1.75 OZ – damn near weightless. But, enough weight to land me in the sin bin.

Enough to land us in the sin bin.

The Cop begins laughing, I mean really fucking laughing. The wild Pig chased his pray down and now he is foaming at the mouth. Ha-HA-HA-hahaha’ing until there is no oxygen remaining in his bloated stomach. Almost as if the funky stuff has protruded from the ALTOIDS can and immediately hit his bloodstream.

“ALRIGHT FAST EDDIE, THESE ARE THE PROLETARIAT OUTLAWS EH? OUR MOUSE TRAP COULDN’T CAPTURE A RAT!”

Fast Eddie’s dimples break out from his skin for the first time in a decade, “Thanks OFFICER LAFFERTY! Next hoagie from PAULIE’S CORNERSTORE is on me!”

“I’ll take the ALTOIDS can instead… when it’s full.” He replies. Walks away, swinging his Billy-club.

Fast Eddie peeps his dilated eyes into the corner of the mirror, glancing at Julian. “Pretty Boy whatsamatta! You didn’t croak! You didn’t squeal! Conglomerate don’t crack!”

Julian boasted,“Yeah, RATS don’t survive by scurrying on the shoulder. Too scared to chase the dotted yellow cheese if ya know what I mean. I gotta eat, I mean… WE gotta eat.”

“Amen.”

And, just like that comfortability didn’t appeal to me anymore. Lit the roach, took a toke, exhaled. Puff puff pass to Julian puff puff pass to Fast Eddie, and back to me. Repeat. Fast Eddie inserted the rusted key into the ignition – BOOOP BOOOP BOOOP. Slick Tom was steady playing them classic B-Sides. Liquor store was closed. Detour: EXIT 52 towards IMFUCKINFREEVILLE.

#fiction short story writer spirits read PinkCloudsAndPocketLint #submission

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thecosydragon · 6 years

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My latest blog post from the cosy dragon: Interview with Patrick Canning

An interview with Patrick Canning, author of The Colonel and the Bee

Patrick Canning was born in Wisconsin, grew up in Illinois, and now lives in California with his dog, Hank. He is primarily focused on turning coffee into words, words into money, money back into coffee.

I’m not going to be reviewing your newest novel, but from your other published novels, is there one that is your own personal favourite?

The only other novel I have is called Cryptofauna so I’d that takes the prize. It’s a dark comedy set in the 1980’s, so drastically different than the whimsical Victorian Age world of The Colonel and the Bee. The genres are so different, I can’t imagine there will be too many reads of both (other than my Mom of course).

Everyone has a ‘first novel’, even if many of them are a rough draft relegated to the bottom and back of your desk drawer (or your external harddrive!). Have you been able to reshape yours, or have you abandoned it for good?

Cryptofauna (mentioned above) was my first foray into novel writing. It was pretty ugly at first but the revision/publication process was so long that it was able to morph into something I’m proud of today. But even if a writer has to relegate that first book to the drawer/hard drive, the good news is you can always take another crack at it later, or, more likely, just harvest the best stuff out of it for your other works. Some projects do die and go nowhere, but, manuscripts keep on giving, even in the afterlife (in addition to all you learned by writing it).

Over the years, what would you say has improved significantly in your writing?

I’m trying to close the gap between the best ideation of a story and how it eventually ends up on paper. It’s very frustrating when something is amazing in your head, but you can’t communicate it well enough to match the initial vision. I think craft helps minimize that particular disparity, and while certain pockets of creativity are maddeningly impervious to time invested, craft is something that can be learned and improved with effort.

Some authors are able to pump out a novel a year and still be filled with inspiration. Is this the case for you, or do you like to let an idea percolate for a couple of years in order to get a beautiful novel?

I definitely let ideas percolate for a few years but there are always a few percolating at once, so hopefully my output ends up being closer to one of those novel a year people. I think the time required for each project is dropping as I become more comfortable with writing, but I think you can only push the delivery schedule so much before quality suffers. Time away from a project, after a first draft for instance, is massively valuable to retain some objectivity, so streamlining is only useful to a point.

I have heard of writers that could only write in one place – then that cafe closed down and they could no longer write! Where do you find yourself writing most often, and on what medium (pen/paper or digital)?

I rotate through a cycle of maybe 10 coffee shops. I always work in Word. I’ve messed with Scrivener for more complex stories with lots of characters and world building, but I think simplicity is best, so usually it’s just Word. I’ve heard great things about pen and paper, especially for first drafts, but haven’t tried it yet. I’ve been typing so long now my handwriting is basically doctor-prescription-pad bad but some people swear by the analog method. In any case, it seems like most of the pros can write whenever, wherever, however, so I try to keep the qualifications at a minimum. Semantic procrastination costumes pretty easily as “essential” routine.

Before going on to hire an editor, most authors use beta-readers. How do you recruit your beta-readers, and choose an editor? Are you lucky enough to have loving family members who can read and comment on your novel?

Right now my beta-readers are family and friends. The trick is to be polite and grateful (they’re eating undercooked dough after all). I make sure the document is readable (a simple spell check should be the minimum decorum) and I always try to keep in mind this is a great deal of time for someone to spend on a project that isn’t at its best. I sought out my first editor freelance and had one assigned by my indie-press for the second book. There are many fantastic editors out there, it’s mostly just finding someone that understands your style of writing/the style of that particular book. Then trust that they’re usually right and be professional.

I walk past bookshops and am drawn in by the smell of the books – ebooks simply don’t have the same attraction for me. Does this happen to you, and do you have a favourite bookshop? Or perhaps you are an e-reader fan… where do you source most of your material from?

I’m with you on the great smell of books (especially books from like the 70’s and 80’s, they all have a decade-specific musk). Aside from that, I don’t care too much about format. I love paper books, but I have a e-reader that always surprises me with its readability whenever I come back to it. They’re great for vacations when lugging an omnibus in your carry-on is spinally inadvisable. I’m fully on board with audiobooks too. I live in LA, meaning lots of time in traffic. Audiobooks make it bearable.

I used to find myself buying books in only one genre (fantasy) before I started writing this blog. What is your favourite genre, and have your tastes changed over time?

I actually wouldn’t say I have a favorite genre. If something sounds interesting or comes highly recommended, I’ll pretty much check it out no matter what. I love going into books (and movies) knowing as little as possible. So as soon as the minimum level of interest is reached, I jump in, because additional information might serve only to spoil plot or unfairly raise expectations.

Social media is a big thing, much to my disgust! I never have enough time myself to do what I feel is a good job. What do you do?

The only social media I have for my books is Instagram. It’s still mostly a personal account (meaning an abundance of pictures of my dog) but hopefully I’ll have more and more book-related content. I like the idea of theoretically connecting directly with (theoretical) fans someday, but it’s not a huge factor in my career these days. Promotion of my work so far has come through book review bloggers! Those mysteriously benevolent people willing to read unknown authors. Twitter is probably the most popular for authors, but it seems like one of the more toxic social media ecosystems to me (and that’s saying something), so I’ve avoided it thus far.

Answering interview questions can often take a long time! Tell me, are you ever tempted to recycle your answers from one to the next?

I’m always mortified when I tell someone a story and they say “You already told me this.” If you do 20 interviews about 1 book, you’re inevitably going to cover a lot of the same ground, but I always try to at the very least phrase it differently. I may eventually be forced into pig Latin, but I say death before repetition. Death before repetition.

from https://ift.tt/2N1dEEE

#book bookreviews authorinterviews lovereading bookworm

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africanpete-blog · 7 years

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part two

Oct. 8, 2016

I’ve been trying to learn Swahili, but it’s hard. I spent a whole Sunday trying to learn the numbers 1 to 10. Moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano, sita, saba nane, tisa and kumi - easy to write out but impossible for me to remember. Yesterday I greeted my Maasi doorman with ‘Kariba’ which later I realised made no sense at all. I should have said ‘Habari’ I was mixing it I guess with ‘Karibu’ which means ‘welcome.’ Kariba is a lake in Zambia. The only way things sink in is if can make some association with the word. So if I want to remember daladala - the word for the private bus, I have to imagine the Dalai Lama sitting on one. Recently, in an effort to try to speak Swahili, I called the waiter over in a bar and said - ‘tafadhali ninataka kisahana cha jivu la cigara?’

‘Uh!’ he exclaimed, as if I had asked him to take off his trousers. Embarrassed by my failure, I muttered in English that I was trying out my swahili and wanted an ashtray. Not a successful first attempt, but I will keep trying, or maybe quit smoking.

Last week I cycled to my beachside fitness centre for another yoga class. On the way I noticed there were people sweeping the roads this time, which was good. The road edges, where the sensible cyclists ride, are usually covered in sand and broken glass, so it was good to see the sweepers out. Drivers honked at me as they approached from behind, possibly a gentle mocking response to the large, wide brimmed and slightly ridiculous straw hat I am now wearing to keep the sun off my face, but most likely because that’s what drivers do here. They tend to honk gently, just to tell other drivers that they are approaching, whereas in London drivers honk out of anger - indignant because they feel wronged, and that an injustice has taken place. There’s little road rage here. On a journey in a Bajaj the other day, the driver did what most Bajaj drivers do, which was to swerve left and try to overtake the vehicle on the inside, and in doing so, he almost hit a young Tanzanian chap on a bike. The cyclist wobbled a bit, regained his balance, and then as he moved on ahead he merely turned round and gave the driver what I would describe as a slightly irritated glare. He was inches from being driven into the steep ditch at the side of the road and that was all he did. If it has been me, I would have screamed something foul. But here, a slightly irritated glare is about all you get. I’ve seen a couple of accidents, where cars have hit other cars. The drivers have got out, examined the damage, given each other slightly irritated glares and then got back in their cars and driven on.

I arrived at the yoga class early. It’s unusual in Dar for anyone to arrive early, or even on time. A Kenyan friend told me it’s not done because there is no-one there to appreciate it. So I sat under a tree outside and had a preparatory cigarette. The yoga almost killed me. It wasn’t just the hour and a half of incredibly hard body bending, stretching, limb knotting and unknotting. At the beginning we were told to stretch our arms up over our heads and my finger was struck by the blades of a rotating fan above my head. Another inch and the fan would have sliced the tip off and blood and finger tips would have splattered over all the yoga participants. Not very zen.

I managed to continue, but I fear this power yoga might really be too much for my creaking bones and aching joints. The yoga teacher urged us all on, saying 'Angels fly, because they think lightly' but I still opted out of the hand stand. Fuck that. A step too far for me.

After the class I cycled on into the centre of town to find a music shop, to buy some strings and other bits, so I can repair some of the broken guitars I've been given. I gave up cycling as I got very lost. There are virtually no street names or signposts indicating where in the city you are. I finished the journey in a Bajaj.

The shop was located in Kariakoo, which was the same bustling and chaotic area of the city centre I visited last time, with narrow streets clogged with cars, bikes, and Bajajs. Every city in the world is choked by cars, but Dar must be one of the worst. I sat in the back of the Bajaj, gripping the rail in front of me while my fearless driver zig-zagged though whatever lane, track, pavement or mud track he could find, missing bikes and people by inches. Eventually we found Dar's only music shop. I was disappointed to see very few musical instruments on show. After much searching the dusty cluttered shelves, a set of classical guitar strings was found. I climbed back into the Bajaj and half an hour later I was back on my bike. I arrived back at my apartment exhausted, hot, and in need of a stiff drink to calm my nerves.

24th September….

I gave a piano lesson to a colleague yesterday, and afterwards we decided to find a bite to eat. I am sure that Tanzanian food is unique and wonderful, but so far I have not been lucky with restaurants. I’ve been getting the chef who’d once poisoned a coach load of nuns with undercooked meat and now to be sure, he cooks it till it’s dry, chewy and utterly tasteless. This evening was no exception and I was served a plate of the tough, inedible, dry grissly beef. As I chewed endlessly through the meal, picking out the tasteless undigested morsels from my dilapidated teeth, I asked my colleague about her experience of Tanzania, about its political life, and tribal culture. She’s Kenyan and has been living here for six years, and everything she said was fascinating.

She told me from which tribes the other Tanzanian teachers originated, how their physical appearance was an indication of what tribe they were from and how frightened her mother was of her marrying a man from the wrong tribe. She said Tanzanians told jokes based on individual tribal stereotypes. (A Maasai, a Chagga and a Holoholo walk into a bar, and the Chagga says……)

She told me of her trip to Germany when she was a child and how she refused to go out and instead stayed indoors, staring out at the street below, looking for black people. She said it was the first time she was aware of the colour of her skin. I understand this well. Every time I step outside I am acutely aware of the colour of mine…

The Tanzanians stare at me a great deal, because my whiteness stands out, in the same way a black or asian person walking down the street in a provincial town in the UK might get stared at. It makes me feel self-conscious and perhaps a little uneasy, but most of the time I think it’s just a look, a curious stare. I may be attracting more attention because I’m frequenting places where locals hang out, rather than just hanging around the ex-pat ghettos. I get that curious stare especially when I’m on a bike. I’ve had local people laugh out loud when they see me holding my arm out as I move gingerly into the centre of the road at a junction, to indicate that I am turning right. No one else ever does that here. Not sure how long I will keep that up for…

If I happen to be wandering around a local market or a relatively poor part of the city, sometimes small children will call out ‘How are you?’ and then hold their hands out in expectation of money. The assumption is that white means rich, as racist in a way as a white person in the provincial UK clutching their wallets when a black person approaches, but less offensive perhaps.

Today I had a lunch appointment in town with another Tanzanian, who is a friend of someone I know from the UK. But in the morning I had to shop and when I returned, my charming young Maasai door-keeper asked to borrow my bike. I tried to explain that I would need it in an hour and he nodded and smiled and said yes, but after he left I got nervous because I had no idea whether he understood me. This is why I should learn Swahili as quickly as possible. He brought it back of course. I was being anxious again for no reason.

I was in a cheerful mood as I cycled to the restaurant and the journey amused me further. I saw a car ahead had broken down at the side of the road, and the driver had plucked half a dozen leafy branches from the nearby bushes and placed them in a neat line in the road, to indicate to approaching drivers to give a wide berth. Who needs bollards? A while later I passed a sign with a large arrow pointing up a side road. It read: ‘Office For Directional Signs.’ It is I believe the only directional sign I have ever seen in the city. I must pop in one day and find out what exactly they do. Then as I approached the restaurant I passed another restaurant sign which read ‘Chattanooga Iranian Barbecue Restaurant.’ Sounds very exotic but after last night’s experience I won’t risk it. Probably too much chew chew for me….

I met my friend at the Cape Town Fish Restaurant, located on the beach, very near to where I have my yoga class. We sat on the terrace, looking out onto the bay, with its clear bright calm blue water and white sands, and sailing boats and dhows. Delightful. The restaurant was posh and populated by the wealthy westerners and Chinese. It was my first expensive treat. (I’m trying to save a bit of money here, because I’m still clinging to my dream of buying an old factory in the south of France and creating a puppet theatre, once my African adventure is over.)

I avoided the meat this time and munched happily through a modest tuna salad.. My friend was charming and once again I found myself asking many questions about her life in Dar, and her experience of Tanzanian politics and culture. She talked about local government corruption, which is still endemic, despite the noble efforts of recently elected President Magufuli. I’ve since been reading up on the ivory trade and the fact that Tanzania has lost over sixty per-cent of its elephant population in the last three years. They’ll all be gone very soon, thanks to a the lucrative trade with Asia, and the inability of the Tanzanian government to stop the hunters and the officials who protect them. Shameful madness. For centuries African tribes have built their huts out of branches and elephant dung, which I guess might pong a bit for a week or so, but which lasts as long as concrete and is so much more environmentally friendly. Personally, I’m not keen on going on a safari and sitting passively in the back of a jeep and looking voyeuristically at what remains of Tanzanian bush life. I just wish everyone else would leave these beautiful animals in peace.

I love my balcony. From it I watch the sun rise over the ocean in the morning. In the evening I gaze down at my neighbours. In front of me is a patch of wasteland, and a shack, half built with breeze blocks and finished off with sheets of rusty corrugated tin. It’s occupied by a large family. There’s no electricity or water. Next to the shack is a makeshift toilet, a hole in the ground closed in by sheets of plastic tied to sticks. I’ve seen the mother in the morning, washing herself using one small cup of water. I watch the entire family sitting under a tree every evening, the children playing with bits of cardboard, old tyres and any other pieces of rubbish that fire their imaginations. The children run around, barefoot and cheerful, until it gets too dark to play. Around the house, chickens wander about, sometimes a few goats arrive and graze, and occasionally a few cows. Next to the shack, across the mud track road, in sharp contrast, is a large smart house with beautifully kept gardens, high fences and huge palm trees. It has a pack of guard dogs, who tend to howl like wolves most nights. In the morning I watch the ground staff open the large steel doors, and a couple leave in their shiny silver BMW, passing in front of the shack on their way to work.

And at night I can can look up at the huge expanse of sky, littered with big bright stars, and once a month, the biggest moon I’ve ever seen. Lucky me.

28th September.

We’ve had some serious rain today. The roads were pretty bad first thing this morning when I cycled to school, but after that I watched the torrents fall most of the day. On my journey home, the pot-holed track leading from the school had become a river of fast flowing mud.

Further along, a temporary road bridge over a small river had been completely washed away. This bridge was next to the main bridge that had been washed away during the rainy season last January. A few dozen men in high viz jackets were standing around the river bank, scratching their hard hats. I have to find a different route to school tomorrow.

The good news is that my flight case of musical instruments that I was supposed to get a month ago, has finally arrived. I was delighted to unpack my trumpet, my lovely guitars, recorders, cds of my favourite music, books, and all my old teaching notes. It’s a joy to have those few familiar things around me again.

The guitars and puppets now hang on the wall of the music room. Bit by bit, I am starting to raise the profile of music and drama in the school, which in the past had been unable to offer very little of either.

I am enjoying the teaching, though I am still making mistakes. It’s taking a while to remember how to do it well. But every day there are very satisfying moments. A few days ago one of my five year old Kenyan students walked into my class during the lunch break and boldly picked up one of the child’s guitars I’d been given. She said she wanted to play. So I sat her down and placed the guitar on her lap and managed to get her tiny black fingers on the third fret of the top E string. I sat with her, picked up another guitar and showed her how to strum. She picked it up in a flash and together we strummed. I started to scat and she joined in with her beautiful little voice and we improvised for ten minutes. It touched me deeply.

One of my guitar students is a young Tanzanian guy called Abraham, who works as a school gardener and caretaker. At the start of term he brought me his old beaten up guitar, which I have restrung and repaired as best I could. He’s progressing very well. I’ve not taught guitar for twenty years and I am no follower of pop, so I’ve taught him to play ‘The House Of The Rising Sun.’ I’m a bit embarrassed about not having anything more contemporary to use to teach guitar, but it’s a good tune to learn to get the basic chords under your fingers. Abraham’s English isn’t great and being from Tanzania, he’s almost as unfamiliar with western pop as I am, though he says he likes country music. I found an old Sting cd and we listened to a couple of tracks. He recognised the tune ‘Englishman In new York’ and so I’ve got him playing that. A weird choice I know, but the chords are simple.

Several of the male staff and groundsmen play football after school every Friday, and I had been invited to join in. The idea appealed. I remember the first school I worked in - a large and rough UK secondary modern school, where the staff played football in the gym every Friday and I used to enjoy it. It used to be amusing to watch some of the quiet and well-mannered staff, who had been wound up all week by their rough, unruly students, finally release their pent up rage during the game, and run about tackling like wild beasts.

But that was thirty years ago. On Friday I decided I would play. All day I was thinking it might not be great idea. My recent power yoga session had tested my ageing body to the limit. Was this not going to finish off my knees completely? But as my close friends know, common sense is not something I tend to use a great deal and I also know there’s a lot of Peter Pan in me, who is oblivious to the fact that I am no longer eighteen.

In the boys changing room, I lost my balance and toppled over as I was stepping into my shorts, and pulled a muscle in my thigh. That was not a great start. I limped out onto the football pitch in the heat of the afternoon sun. My fellow players were teachers and young male ground staff, playing bare feet, and of course running rings around me.

But I played as best I could, and survived. I limped back to the changing room after an hour, completely soaked in sweat and panting, but content I had done no permanent damage to my body.

I cycled back to my apartment, as dusk was falling - a great time of the day in Tanzania. The light turns orange, and the colourful street stalls selling pyramids of oranges, tomatoes, onions and watermelon

start to get busy. Everyone seems to be in good spirits. The stall-owners smile and wave at me, now they’re used to seeing me pass on the bike. It’s good to feel like a local and to be a part of a neighbourhood again. One the way home, I saw a man walk up the side of a huge palm tree in bare feet, with no rope or harness. I’m not quite sure what he was going up there for, but it was amazing to see. It was one of those moments when I stopped and watched, delighted and incredulous. It made me think - wow, here I am, living in Africa!

In my last blog entry I used the term ‘third world’ and have have been admonished for it. One is supposed to say ‘developing country.’

Living here confuses me because what I see is a huge clash between traditional African culture - with its tribes and customs, and western culture, with its shiny materialism, its cars and smart phones. I’m not convinced that the term ‘developing country’ is much better because it suggests that countries which have not taken on board the advancements of western culture are underdeveloped, which of course is not true. The longer I live here, the more see the way in which the trappings of developed nations are destroying the unique characteristics of Tanzania. After all, its the developed nations who create the ivory trade will soon wipe out the remaining elephants Tanzania. It’s developed nations who sell petrol to Tanzania which is so high in pollutants that it would never be allowed to be sold in the west. Every morning I see the Maasai, dressed in his beautiful red robe, sitting under a tree. He’s often on his smart phone, which is incongruous enough. But he’s also chewing on a white stick. The stick is miswak, and he’s cleaning his teeth with it. It works much better than a toothbrush, and the miswak contains natural antibiotics, minerals and ingredients which are apparently more beneficial to the human body than toothpaste. Miswak has been used to clean teeth in Tanzania for centuries and every Maasai I know has white and healthy teeth. I must learn how to say ‘May I have some miswak to brush my teeth?’ in Swahili. Goodness knows what the result will be. Wish me luck.

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