Disclaimer:yawns: I own nada... Nada... Including DK and LOTR. Summer's here, though! Can't be upset with summer!
Warnings: Swearing, oddness.
A/N: ...Yeah. Um... Sorry about the freakishly long wait. Again. :ashamed: I really did mean to get this out earlier, but... :hangs head:
:n:
"At least one solo for each of the playing/singing members in the band, at least three group songs, evidence of at least three pieces being worked on. Recommended minimum total of twelve songs, with no more than four being unfinished. Players' solos must be finished by the date of the audition. No more than one piece may be a remake of an already performed song.'"
"What?" Rath snatched the creased notice from the drummer's hand. "They've got to be kidding."
"Guess not," Rune sighed, tilting his face to the cement ceiling of his cramped cellar. "Looks like they're really serious about this."
"Well, we are too!" Rath crumpled up and tossed the paper back to his friend, "We just don't have all our shit together yet. That's all."
"We should have started working earlier. You realize we have nine days left before our audition, Rath. Nine!" The blonde boy shook his head. "There's no way we're going to be ready in time."
Rath started tapping his foot on the cold ground, nervous energy getting the better of him. "We'll make it," he insisted, "We just need to think about this. How many pieces do we need?"
"Twelve. Up to four can be unfinished."
"And how many do we have?"
"Counting that tune Thats scribbled down? Two. None of them finished."
"Damn."
The junior started pacing, back and forth across the dimmed room. His boots clanked dully on the hard ground underfoot.
"So we need six more."
"In nine days," Rune added in hopelessly.
A grim light of determination began to flicker in Rath's eyes, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the other boy.
"We just need to pace ourselves. Let's start over. That one, what did we call it?"
"Hassle," Rune offered the rough draft's title, "But it's only a rough draft of the lyrics, and we still need to finish setting music to it."
He brushed him off.
"We'll finish in time. So there's that and Thats' thing--"
"I was thinking of having him make it into his solo."
"I remember. That's two out of twelve, so ten. And then we can play some older song and make it nine. And subtract the four we can have unfinished..."
"Rath!" Rune sent him an exasperated glance, "That still makes it a little over a song every two days! Plus music and practice... We're just out of time!"
He was taken completely by surprise when his friend spun around, landing a resounding kick to the table pushed up against the side of the basement.
"No we're not!" Rath's voice was tight with barely withheld emotion, the words wavering like a taunt chord. There was a clear black scuff mark and slight splintering on the table's wooden leg, it's dust coating rising and falling in a small cloud to the dirty floor.
The air was very still, unexpectedly and unexplainably tense.
Rath turned back, and his friend forced himself not to flinch away.
His dark eyes were unnaturally calm. Forced.
"No," he spoke again in an evenly controlled voice, "No, we're not."
:n:
Thats hummed a bar under his breath absentmindedly. He was alone in his half of the cafeteria, Kitchel having decided that the work would be done faster if they split up. The reasoning behind this logic was that, even though they had to stay for a set period of time, if they were able to get the large room looking fairly clean, there was a chance they'd be able to slack off and lounge around for the remaining hour or so.
Leaning on the low table, he ran the notes through his head once again. The tune was catchy, almost irritatingly so, especially when one did not have any lyrics to fit them.
"That's Rune's gig," he muttered to himself, "Not mine."
What irritated him more was that his friend felt that, since this had been dubbed His Solo, he was going to have to be the one to come up with the accursed lyrics. Somehow it would end up being cheat otherwise-- Thats didn't fully understand the other's logic.
Damn Rune and his morals.
Straightening up once more, he resumed wiping down the table. Thats gave a wry smile. The piece of ragged cloth was moving to the unheard beat.
:n:
Fingers drummed impatiently on a flimsy countertop.
Kai-Stern's pale eyes traveled over the small pile of papers and text books, his right hand snaking out to catch a pen before it toppled onto the floor.
A rather weathered and beaten phone was cradled in his left hand, the ringing on the other end filtering into the messy room.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... Pick up..."
He sighed as a slightly mechanical voice crackled to life, heralding the start of Ruwalk's lengthy answering machine message.
He waited as it wove its rambling way to the end, listened for the small 'beep', and finally spoke.
"Hey, Ruwalk! It's me, Kai-Stern. Listen, we were wondering--" he caught himself and gave a small chuckle. "Well, I was wondering- I don't suppose Tetheus really cares- if we could get together sometime. You know, everyone. Just out to a bar, or something. This Saturday good for you? Take pity on us starving college students and call us back!"
As he dropped the phone into its receiver, he felt the entrance of his roommate, and gave a small grin at the other's almost teasing tone.
"'Starving college students'?" Tetheus shook his head, not fully able to keep a straight face. "Judging by the state of the leftovers in the refrigerator, I'm unable to believe you."
Kai-Stern glanced at the fridge in question. "It's true. There may be a lot of them, but would you really want to eat anything in there? I think the dorm's power died again today."
This statement was backed up by the faint and slightly rancid odor just barely noticeable under the scent of unwashed laundry(Kai-Stern), vaguely mildewy books(Kai-Stern), and sawdust(Tetheus).
"Fun day at the hardware store?" The too-fair man asked, shoving the phone away to the other side of the counter.
"Very." Even in Tetheus' traditional monotone, there was a distinct slice of sarcasm, served warm with a plate of irritation.
"Since you called in 'sick', I worked both your register and my aisles, thus debunking great minds across the world and proving that a person can be in two places at once."
Kai-Stern winced.
"Sorry. Lykouleon phoned. Wanted to talk."
"Oh?" Tetheus was not able to keep the curiosity out of his voice. It was a rare event that their old friend called, especially not over something that sounded as serious as his roommate implied.
"Yeah. He's having... Trouble getting through to that kid living with him and Rase'. They're just not seeing eye-to-eye, and it's starting to get out of hand."
Tetheus highly doubted it was getting just 'out of hand'.
"Is that the foster boy they took in?"
He nodded, "He's a good kid. Just upset about all the changes he's already gone through, having problems at school, and beating himself up about not 'fitting in'." Kai-Stern rolled his tawny eyes. "Don't know why Lykouleon wanted to talk to me."
The other man gave the shadow of a shrug, still standing in the doorway to the kitchen-turned-study. "You can relate to him," he said simply.
"Nah," Kai-Stern gave a bright grin, "I may be immature, but I'm not that filled with self-loathing."
This time Tetheus graced the room with an actual raise and dip of the shoulders, then stepped past his friend to investigate the offputtingly-warm refrigerator and it's questionable contents.
"Did you buy anything for dinner?"
:n:
Cesia was out.
Zoma loved it when this happened, loved the fleeting freedom of having the small house to himself, even loved the way that as the hours ticked by he would grow bored and sometimes lonely with no one to talk to. So when his sister had told him she would be spending some time at her friend's house after school, he had been elated.
And he was still pleased about it, he noted to himself, shifting the metal spoon in his mouth as he changed the television channel. Letting the remote slide from his grasp, he leaned back, propping himself up on the floor, his still closed school bag seated next to him.
It was just that, without the chiding and prodding of his older sister and closest family member, his musings would become more audible. And while at times this could be no big deal, it could get irritating.
Like the little voice in the back of his conscious that droned out the monotonous ramble of the salesman on t.v., urging his thoughts to his friends. More specifically, Pyore. The girl had been acting... Oddly the past few days. If this was taking place in some story or show, Zoma would go so far as to label her "out of character". But as it was, that wasn't really an option, and he shook his head, his eyes loosing their glazed over sheen as they unfocused from the television screen.
This was getting annoying.
And he sighed, standing up and resignedly wandering into his room, leaving the t.v. blaring behind him. Maybe he'd find something in there.
:n:
"Thats. Thats. Thats!"
He jerked his gaze up as Kitchel slammed her closed fists down on the table he was working on, causing it to buck and shake slightly.
Thats pulled his headphones down to hang loosely around his neck.
"What?"
She rolled her eyes irritably, "We're done. As in, we can leave."
"Oh. Right," he said, dropping the tray and rag where he stood, glancing around the building for his backpack.
"The hell were you listening to it so loud, anyway?" Kitchel asked, scooping up her own school supplies, "It's not like you had to drown out any background noise."
Thats glanced at her, then shrugged, pulling on his bag.
"I like it loud."
Yeah. And because there's this damn unwritten whatever that keeps going around and around in my head. With an annoyingly catchy beat, and... Yes, there it is again.
He rolled his eyes to the clear sky as they stepped out of the cafeteria.
She gave him a bemused glance.
"What?"
"Huh?" He met her gaze, startled. "Song stuck in my head."
"What's the title?" Kitchel asked, casually trying to keep the conversation going as they headed back towards the main school buildings for their all-too-frequent detention.
"Don't know," he shrugged. "You wouldn't know the lyrics, anyway."
The girl grinned teasingly. "That's not fair. I know lots of songs. Why wouldn't I know this one?"
Thats smirked back, "Trust me: This is a real unknown."
:n:
Zoma panned through a small gray book, eyes darting over the pictures pressed up behind the clear plastic pages. He was lounging against the foot of his bed, having found the old photo album buried somewhere beneath his extra game controller, spare PE uniform, and ancient clay pot that he had made as an art project in elementary school.
He smiled at the memories struck up at the wrinkled photograph of his small group of friends, dressed up for a past halloween.
Taking a closer look, Zoma pinned the date down to two years ago, judging by their costumes and heights(or, really, lack thereof).
He laughed to the empty room, tapping his foot against his poster-covered bookshelf.
That had been the year they had all gone as characters from the Fellowship of the Ring, with many hilarious outcomes. Ringleys had taken first choice, and the small boy was dressed up as the great elven warrior, Legolas. Riima had convinced the others to let her go as Aragorn, despite the fact that she could barely lift both her sword and a bag filled to the brim with candy. He himself was Samwise, bent double in the photograph under the weight of his towering bag, filled with pots and pans, a change of clothes, rope, and a not-so-meager supply of food in his attempt to be authentic(in place of lembas, however, the four had agreed that he was to carry cinnamon poptarts). In the center of the picture stood Pyore, her shoulder-length black hair pulled back from her face, and a polished "ring of power" strung on a chain about her neck, glistening against her dulled brown tunic. She was laughing as the picture had been taken, a smudge of melted chocolate on the side of her face.
Zoma paused, faintly confused.
Hadn't there been a fifth member of their fellowship?
If he remembered correctly, they had convinced another to join them, playing the part of Arwen under Riima's insistence that she(through Aragorn) needed a fiancee.
His fingers drummed on the picture distractedly as he willed his mind to think back that far.
Arwen... White dress...
It hit him suddenly and there was a flash of realization in his dark eyes as he jumped to his feet, letting the picture album slide to the messy floor.
Of course!
Grabbing his jacket off his doorknob, Zoma quickly fled the house, nearly sprinting down the chilly street.
:n:
Rath was sitting cross-legged on the dusty ground, purposefully drumming an unsharpened pencil on the cement next to him. He ran through the rhythm, then paused, a look of concentration scrawled on his fair features, and gave a curt nod.
"That might work." He glanced up. "What do you think, Rune?"
The other boy jerked his head up from where he had been studying a physics text book, a sheepish flush beginning to creep up on him.
"...Could you repeat that?"
Rath scowled, then did as requested, adding in a scornful comment.
"What do you think you're doing? I thought you said we needed to work on this?"
"Well, yes," Rune admitted, carefully placing his school work off to one side and closing the text book, "But I have a physics test tomorrow, and no breaks before it. I want a good grade in that class."
"You're already pulling an A," the other complained, shaking messy black bangs out of his face, "You can afford to bomb a quiz."
Rune gave his companion an affronted stare.
"I would like to keep my GPA as is, thank you."
He relented, however, sighing.
"Oh, all right. I can always review later tonight. Now," he managed a small smile, "I think that sounded fine. But could you repeat the end?"
Rath did so, at a slower tempo this time.
"And that's just percussion, correct? Do you have anything figured out for you or Thats?"
"Kind of? For me, at least. I don't want to write his part, too," the other junior complained.
Rune pondered this for a moment.
"He should be finished cleaning by now. He can work on it during detention. Too bad we can't contact him..."
Rath's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint.
"He has a cell."
The black haired boy made a dive for Rune's backpack, snatching a small silver cell phone from one of the open pockets and quickly dialed a familiar number.
"Rath!" Rune was sitting stiffly, obviously torn between lunging for his phone or letting the other contact their friend. "Is he allowed to receive calls?"
Rath motioned for him to be silent, laughing silently to himself as he heard the other line start to ring.
:n:
"Whoa!" Thats jerked as the cell phone in his pocket suddenly went off, vibrating harshly and emitting a tinny sequence of notes, sounding faintly like the theme from "Mission Impossible".
Several heads turned to stare at him, bearing expressions of amusement, annoyance, or simple confusion.
Turning slightly red, he snatched it out of his pocket, glanced at the registered number, and hurriedly picked up.
"...Hello?"
"Thats!"
The falsly-cheerful voice was audible, even several rows over, and the junior made a mental note to do something about the volume.
"What is it?" he muttered softly, trying to ignore the stifled sniggers and the bemused look being given to him by the supervisor.
"Rune and I were wondering if you--"
"Yeah, the song, I know," he cut Rath off, hoping to end the conversation sooner and with less embarrassment on his part. "I'm working on it, okay?"
"Actually," Rath continued, and Thats could swear he was doing his best to make himself heard in the small classroom, "I thought you should work on the base part for 'Hassle'."
About to answer, Thats could hear a scuffle in the background and the slightly more muffled voice of Rune protest that Thats couldn't work on it, because he couldn't know what Rath had just worked out and therefore wouldn't be able to fit his part in with the others.
"Oh, right," Rath pondered this for a moment before cheerfully explaining that he could just show the other over the phone what it was supposed to sound like.
There was the sound of heavy equipment being moved and the faint buzz of speakers being plugged in and turned on, and right when Thats was getting ready to hang up the phone and suffer the consequences at the hands of his two irate companions later that afternoon, someone spoke up.
"Excuse me. But use of cell phones is not permitted during detention."
He looked up, startled, into the face of Lykouleon, the young teacher supervising the class. The man was obviously trying to appear stern, but was having a hard time not breaking down into laughter.
Lykouleon held out his hand, into which a grateful Thats dropped the small device, watching as it was turned off a second after the first jarring strands of music burst into the air.
There were several giggles from the other students.
The tanned junior sweatdropped, giving a laughing grin and pulling out a sheet of paper, notes scrawled down the lines and margins.
Smoothing out the crumpled mess, he rolled his eyes.
Might as well get something done so he wouldn't be completely chewed out after school.
:n:
"This one's cute!"
Cesia held the light pink material up to her chest, repressing an automatic reaction to gag valiantly.
"...It doesn't look that good on me," she offered instead, handing it back to her friend who likewise stuck it back on the shelf.
"Besides, it's too expensive. I can't afford that!"
"I can lend you money," Tintlett offered, offhandedly searching through a pile of similarly colored shirts.
Cesia shook her head, dark hair whipping about her.
"No, that's okay. Let's just try a different place, okay?"
"Fine," the blonde girl took her hand, tugging her from the air-conditioned store, "Where do you want to try next?"
She shrugged, thinking for a moment.
"That small place across the mall?"
Tintlett nodded, light eyes narrowing for a second as she attempted to recall its exact location. "That sounds good. They have nice tops there. Very... Black." She giggled.
Cesia laughed as well, the sound crisp in the chatter around them.
"Exactly. I've got a gift certificate for there, anyway."
This agreed upon, the two teenaged girls set off, passing by multiple smaller clothing stores, drink booths, and an ice cream stand.
"Cesia?" Tintlett broke the comfortable silence, "When was it that you needed the clothes for?"
"Next Saturday."
Tintlett nodded, fleetingly remembering a mention of a music contest during that week.
"Is that the one for beginning bands? But you don't have anyone else to perform with you. Unless you intend to play all the instruments yourself," she teased gently.
Cesia grinned at the mental image.
"No, I'm not participating in that one. There's a separate competition for vocalists that's run by the same agency that takes place at about the same time."
"I see," she nodded once more. "Saturday, right? What time is it?"
"Nine in the morning," the junior grimaced, "And it's way across town, which means I have to get up a few minutes before I'd normally be waking for school. Especially since I want to make sure I get there a little early, just in case."
There was a few seconds calm silence, broken only by the surrounding buzz and their footsteps on the hard ground.
"Do you think it would be all right if I joined you?"
Cesia looked at her friend, startled.
"Were you thinking of trying out, too? Good luck."
"No," Tintlett objected, slightly flustered, "I was thinking of writing an article for the school newspaper for their music and entertainment section, and this seems like a good opportunity to get some research done," she explained.
"Oh," Cesia nodded, "That's fine. Do you want me to pick you up?"
"I live close. I can just walk a block to your place. That way I'll be sure you won't oversleep and miss your audition," she joked.
"Hey," Cesia laughed, tugging her friend into the designated store, "You know I'm a very responsible person."
"I know." Tintlett's voice was calm, her eyes momentarily serious. Then she giggled, snatching a tight corset top off its hanger.
"And a person with a fetish for leather! Try this on. If it fits, I'm going to make you buy it, even if you do need a loan. This is going to be your big debut, and you need to look great."
She shoved it into Cesia's hands turning around to stare at the variety of clothing once again.
"Now, on to other things. Which mini do you prefer?"
:n:
"That sound right?"
Rath nodded, frowning slightly in concentration.
"Keep going."
Rune absentmindedly brushed a strand of golden blonde hair out of his blue eyes, repeating the rhythm and continuing for a few seconds before he paused.
"What time is it?"
Rath shrugged.
"No frigging clue. Why?"
"I think I just heard the door. Thats must be here. Come on," he stood, stepping delicately out from behind the drum set newly shoved into the corner of the basement. "Bring the lyrics and notes. We can show them to him while we take a break."
As the two teenagers quickly made their way out to the front door, they were startled to see their friend standing casually in the kitchen, getting himself a soda from the fridge.
"...Thats?"
"Hmm?" He turned around, taking a long drink. "Hey. I let myself in."
Rune blinked. He never gave the other boy a spare key to his house...
Shaking off his confusion, he led Rath into the room, watching as the other boy shoved several sheets of paper into Thats' hands.
"What is this?"
"Notes," Rath said pointedly. "Look at them."
Nodding distractedly, the junior skimmed the top page, then glanced over the rest. About to hand them back to his friends, he paused suddenly, a look of concentration spreading over his face.
"Wait a second..."
Thats read through the scribbled on papers again, more carefully this time.
He looked up and spoke bluntly.
"You can't use this."
"What?" Rune jerked forward, snatching the material from his friend.
"Why not?"
Thats took another gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Copyrighted."
Rath stared at him as if he had just said he wanted to get a sex change or marry Rune.
"The hell are you talking about?"
"Okay," he conceded, "Not quite. But close enough. The drum section you got down here, at least, is too close to the percussion from 'Real World'. These lyrics, too," he took them from Rune, skimming through them once again. "They're really similar."
Rath swore, his fist slamming into the countertop.
"What are we going to do now? That was our most complete song."
Thats shrugged, but Rune slowly spoke up.
"Wait... Rath, that lead part you had planned out... That's different, right? We can use that. I can get new lyrics for it. And Thats will proofread them before we get this far along, this time."
Watching as their bass downed the rest of his soda and nodded, Rath hesitantly bobbed his head as well.
"That might..." his voice harded into seriousness suddenly. "We need to get to work. This is putting us at a greater disadvantage, and the deadline is coming up fast."
Rune gave a slight smile, taking a step towards the hall.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get back to work."
:n:
Dried leaves crunched under Zoma's shoes, the grass below them almost sacrosanct in its vibrancy. He paused, shooting a pleading glance to the sky, a desperate, "why me...?" look, one that he almost immediately regretted. His eyes narrowed, burning two holes in the ground in his sudden shame.
Taking another step forward, he shivered slightly, passing by the first slab of granite: gray as the sleeting sky, gray as the wave-churned sea, gray as the fog of age... Gray as the thin jacket pulled over the shoulders of the small figure kneeling in front of a tombstone several rows over.
His mouth was dry with nerves and he noticed yet again how green the grass underfoot was.
Treading carefully, he made his way towards her, being careful not to step on any of the graves and trying his best to walk quietly.
The air was reverent.
The briefest of phantasmic touches strayed over his spine, reminding him of the heavy presence of a church or other place of worship.
Zoma sucked in a nervous breath.
"Pyore?"
She gave no indication that she had heard him, and so he walked tentatively closer.
"...Pyore?"
He paused, standing next to her, a chill breeze lazily blowing by, whispering in the branches of the slender trees that surrounded the cemetery.
The thought came to him that if it wasn't for the rows of icy markers, it might be a nice scene. A place he would consider coming to on a picnic or just to stare at the clouds.
He was startled out of his semi-trance by the girl kneeling next to him shifting position, plush grass below them both rustling slightly.
Zoma glanced down at her.
"Um..." he fumbled his words, a light blush climbing to his face as he finally spoke the clichéd phrase: "Are you okay?"
She looked up at him for the first time, and he was startled to notice that her eyes were clear: there was no sign that she had been crying recently.
Giving a short, soul-drenching sigh she nodded slowly, climbing stiffly to her feet.
"Yes. I am," she smiled.
It was wane, but it was real.
"You, uh, you wanna talk about it?" Zoma could feel himself turning redder as he pushed out the awkward words.
He was rewarded with a giggle and the soft strengthening of her smile.
"No. I'll be fine. I was just," she hesitated, and he could see her falter for a moment before speaking again.
"Just remembering."
He gave a short nod, just enough to acknowledge her words, trying to fight the guilt he felt at his surge of relief that she had not expressed a wish to discuss what had been bothering her.
It wasn't right to feel that way.
Guilty, he meant, but also relieved.
That wasn't...
Zoma suddenly snapped back to the real world once again at Pyore's sudden movement. She reached to the sky, her jacket slipping down her arms as she stretched out the stiffened muscles. Stamping her feet inside their boots from the cold that was starting to settle as evening fell upon them, Pyore turned around, facing the entrance to the cemetery.
"C'mon," she grinned, seeming more of her old self than before, "It's getting late, Zoma. Did you come looking for me?" She teased.
"N-no!" He stammered, following after as she made her way to the road and home.
"I just saw you!"
Pyore laughed, the sound refreshingly alive.
"Whatever, Zoma."
She gave him a playful shove, still giggling as they left the cemetery, but made no protest as his hand slipped into hers.
Kuon Sheena
1986-2004
Her early departure left behind
A loving father, mother,
And sister.
She will always be in our hearts.
Brianna: Yes. Yes, you did quote the commercial. And... :glomps: You! You are the bestower of the 500th review I've ever recieved. :shock: ...Mind, this account is a few years old now, and I tend to update a lot... :shifty eyes: Anyway, I'll give you a present. Sometime.
Kat:gestures: Rath's in BCP, that's why. :nods: And I agree with you on the college thing. By a lot. ...And don't break the beautiful, beautiful illusion about summer school and classes... :pretends not to have heard: ...I'm supposed to be working on those pictures. :sweatdrop: I am working on them! I just... Took a break to finish this? n-n; Um... Yeah. So is there any particular order you want them in...? VOLES. :random hyper spaz:
Peophin-chan: Of course I prefer one "A"! Just soooo much cooler that way. :wink: ...Actually, it's because the first time I ever heard of him was in a fanfic by... She used to be called AngelCesia. Then she changed her name, and I can't spell it, so I won't even try. I don't want to mangle it. XD But it was brilliantly funny, and she mentioned Sabel in there. And that's how she spelled it. And that's how I got in the habit of spelling it.
Minty Fresh So-- Damnit, Ginsing.: One, correct! Two, correct! Three:loud buzzer noise: Hahaha. I win. I wiiiin.
Capella:shrugs: I showed you Sabel's schedule. He practically IS doing that, anyway. Laam's majoring in some sort of humanities(:had tuned him out when he started rambling:), Gil's starting his freshman year and has changed his mind about this at least five times. While I was trying to write this. :sweatdrop: So, I concede the point. I don't know everything about this AU. XD
Charna:nodnod: This is the one fic I where I'll actually attempt to write longer chapters...
Hououza:blinks: Read it ALL! Wow... Um... Bordom getting to you? ...Not that I'm complaining, mind. One, probably not. Two, yes. Poor Zoma. :huggles:
Ellabel:gracious accepts soup: Thank you! You are the bestower of food. n-n And I hope you get well soon :O ...Er. Are well by now. XD ...Wow, you reviewed twice. o-o Uh... Here's to you and your prodding:hands over the pocky:
:n:
Grawr. I really want to majorly edit a lot of the eariler chapters, but... That would feel a bit like cheating. V-V I mean, I did write it. And I did like it enough at the moment to post it... I just hate it now. :grawr, eats chapters: I actually might rehaul their asses, except there's so many little details that I still need from there that I'd probably forget ... I'm trying to fix what I can, however, as you might have noticed in this chapter. Basically, I've decided not to take the cheat way out and use songs that have already been written. Which means I had to change almost all of the work they got done already. :sweatdrop: They hate me for that, but...
And as of this chapter, this fic has passed the 100-page-mark, as well. :just posted another one with that record: I'm so proud of it. :glomps fic and gives it candy:
:n:
:does a little review boogy:
