you're the fairy bomberman

Envy's second solo album was finally dropping this Friday on all major streaming platforms as well as on both CD and vinyl where physical formats where still sold. On top of that, her second major solo tour was due to begin next week, just in time for everyone to have learned the new stuff by heart. So all in all, between tour prep and last-minute costume fittings and endless phone interviews, Envy was having kind of a busy time.

But if she'd still jumped Peter a little more often and a little more aggressively these past few weeks than she perhaps tended to otherwise... Look, it was a stressful time and she was about to be away from home for months on end. You couldn't blame her for trying to stock up on some personal time with her boyfriend.

In fact, perhaps predictanly, they'd just about finished another bout of that even just now. Envy dropped down next to Peter, rolling onto her back with a pleased sigh.

[ooc: NFB, for the guy. Warning that some residual NSFWness may occur!]

In the end, a week in Los Angeles had turned into about a month and a half. And not by choice, apart from the first extra week or so, but rather by Portalocity fuckery because honestly, what else? Caused by 'universes shifting like they sometimes do', they'd told her. Which probably explained how she'd also ended up losing her multiversal cell service for a chunk of it, too.

The customer service reps should've been glad she'd traveled the multiverse enough to know that no amount of yelling or threats would fix anything. Although she'd still been tempted to try.

She'd been stubbornly staying in LA for most of the portal blackout, taking advantage of the opportunities that came from a shitty situation: filmed a couple of cameos for on-brand indie production companies, struck up a weird not-quite-friendship (hangout-ship?) with Winifred Hailey, worked on new songs that her new vaguely oppressive environment inspired in her... But for the last week, she'd been in Montreal. Spending Christmas with her parents had been another opportunity to seize, and so she had.

But today, today her daily habit of calling Portalocity had yielded the result she'd been wanting for over a month: the portals were back. The direct connection was yet to be established, but she'd told them she didn't care, she just wanted to go home. So she'd got all her crap together - a couple more bags' worth than when she'd left in early November - and she'd set on her way.

And now, several portal layovers later... She'd finally made it to the compound, where her first order of business was to get someone from the gate crew to help with her bags.

The second order of business was to call Peter. Ring ring, Peter.

[ooc: NFB, primarily for the guy.]

Some shows seemed similar, blending into each other until Envy's recent past seemed like one big blur of stages and stages and stages that were all essentially the same.

And then some shows were wholly special. Some shows happened during sunset on stages under a big tent, with a gentle breeze blowing from the ocean. Some shows had Envy jumping and bouncing around the stage in her short sequined dress and feeling happy.

Some shows made it feel like everything was possible.

Some shows made it feel like it didn't matter whether everything was possible, because this was all that mattered. The stage and the breeze and the sunset and the sequins, and the roar and energy and smiles of the crowd.

This made everything else worth it.

[ooc: NFB but open for calls/texts/emails afterwards!]

The events of the previous evening, post-everything, had been kind of a blur.

Ditto for this morning.

Envy felt like she had a hangover. But now it was raining, and she was standing on a sidewalk, and there was a taxi. And there was Scott, and there were Wallace and Ramona with their umbrellas a little further away.

"Guess I'll go home," she said. Even if she wasn't even sure what that meant right now. The Montreal apartment? That didn't seem or feel right. "I'm just gonna go."

"I'm..." Scott started. Hesitating. "I'm sorry about stuff."

"I know," Envy said. She brushed a few raindrops' worth of water off her face with the sleeve of the hoodie she was wearing. Hadn't remembered even packing one, but it had turned out conveniently on the top of her bag when she'd needed it. "Me too."

Scott pointed at the hoodie. "That used to be mine. Remember?"

"What?" she asked. Then took a closer look at the sleeve. "Oh... The sweater. Yeah, I guess I stole it." She went to pull it off, reaching for the hood. "You want it back? Should I take it off?""

"No!" Scott said quickly, probably surprising even himself with how fast and final it came out. "Just... Uh... As long as you're still using it, right?"

Her shoulders slumped back down, her hands fell to her sides. Guess she was keeping the sweater. Then they just stood there for a moment, awkward. Scott's hand twitched but he went no further with it. She made no move at all. "Alright, I'm gone," she said, after that particular moment passed. "Uh... Okay," Scott said, as eloquent as ever.

Envy slipped her sunglasses on – like the star she still was – and got in the taxi. "Airport," she said. Then, out the window, to Scott: "See you next time."

-----

... She didn't go home.

Well, she didn't go to Montreal, anyway. Anything beyond that was pointless philosophizing she didn't have the inclination or energy for. She wasn't sure when she made the decision, or if she really made it at all. It was so easy, see, to fall into a familiar chain of events at the airport. She'd done it so many times, here in particular.

Show up. Book the portal from your saved locations. Have a coffee while waiting. Take the portal.

End up in Brazil.

It was only once she got to the Compound that she began wondering what the status of her security clearance was these days. (And yes, that was the only thing she wondered about.)

[ooc: NFB and for that guy that lives here! First part taken from Scott Pilgrim volume three, which has now wrapped up. Man, this was a long time coming.]

There'd been a lot of portaling back and forth between Toronto and Brazil, lately. Kid Chameleon was getting pretty large. Physically. Stephanie Nordegraf had joined up some time ago to play bass, but now Envy had recruited a guy called Cole to take over the drums because he was actually good (and, shut up Stephen, he was actually an okay guy, too), so she'd shifted Scott to bass because Stephanie was taking up bongos and viola.

It was most efficient that way. She wanted the band to really get known. And she wasn't sure why Scott seemed to have a problem with that.

She wasn't sure about a lot of things to do with Scott, these days.

And there was the thing where she wasn't sure whether Jim was alive or not.

So, her mood had not been the best for a while. The piano probably been had been kind of a related impulse buy. To soothe her brain. Something she felt like she deserved. Like she'd earned it by now. (There was a pack of cigarettes on top of it. Those were... yeah. Not exactly a reward.) She was sitting at the piano now, playing some melody or other. Trying to get herself out of her head.

[ooc: NFB, but open!]

There were a couple of mostly empty food service carts in the room. Crumbs in the bed. Several messages on Natalie's phone now that it wasn't dead to the world outside Fandom again.

Natalie was not aware of these things. She wasn't even aware of how her cheek was smushed against Peter's shoulder, or how her arm was draped over him.

But she would be soon, most likely.

[ooc: For the former husband.]

Natalie had returned from another stay in Toronto yesterday, via a short layover – the length of a cup of coffee – in Fandom. Things in Toronto were... well. They were okay. Good, even. The school part was going great, as might have been predicted, and the social was interesting, for lack of a better word. She was integrating into some circles, as much as she ever did.

But it was still good to be here where she had space and quiet, and Moxy rubbed himself against her ankles and purred. It was still early, almost too early to be awake, even. She figured she could steal some time to herself.

So she got her guitar and sat down on her living room floor. She could play something, just for herself.

[ooc: NFB, but open!]

It said some probably positive things about Natalie's character that it took her a while to notice anything was off, simply because... nothing was. Maybe it was because she didn't use very many words to begin with. Easier to stay truthful that way.

Of course, that was until she was on the phone with someone in France. And said something a lot more direct than she'd meant to. She knew herself, so she knew it probably wasn't her level of stress right now. And after apologizing, when she was saying her goodbyes and the other party wished she would have a good rest of the day, and she replied with "I don't know about that, something seems off"? Well, something started to feel way off. Something... Fandom-y.

And she was pretty sure she knew what it was. A simple test was in order. She picked up a red pen off her desk. 'This pen is blue' was a simple phrase, right? Nothing she should struggle with, if things were good and not strange at all.

She went to say it, softly, to herself.

"This pen is red."

Well, shit.

[ooc: NFB, but open for all of the usual stuff! Massive SP warning until my afternoon, but I wanted to get this post up before I head to school.]

Sure, it was Saturday. But that didn't mean there wasn't any work to be done. And Natalie was all about work. Honestly, just being able to be in her office had not yet lost its pleasant novelty after the whole space and displacement ordeal, even though just enough time had passed now that she wasn't having nightmares about Achilles every night anymore. It was good to be here. Even if she had some niggling thoughts in the back of her mind that were asking how long she would stay.

Wasn't at the forefront of her mind. What was, was the email she'd just received. A very formal inquiry for a visit with the Hegemon's Chief of Staff. Perfectly polite, and well-put with all the reasons why such a meeting should be arranged. Complete with tiny references that would have been lost on pretty much any other receiver.

Natalie was smiling a little to herself as she began to type up her reply.

Dear Mr. Adams ––

[ooc: NFB, but open for all the usual stuff.]

Apart from the random headache and nosebleed combo he'd woken up with, this was a pretty normal morning for Nathan. After dealing with his un-fun wakeup, he took a shower, he brushed his teeth, he shaved, and then he padded down into his kitchen to grab some breakfast before getting started on catching up on whatever emails had come in while he'd been asleep. He settled down in the living room with his desk and his breakfast. His boyfriend was coming over later and he wanted to be caught up on stuff enough before Jim showed up to spend the rest of the day on more personal things.

And at no point did he remember he was supposed to be a girl called Natalie. Good thing she'd already been in the habit of signing her emails as N.V. Adams.

[ooc: NFB, but open! And Natalie is now Nathan for the rest of this plot, and yes he's coming to Fandom at some point, so if you have specifics about how him being a dude would have changed your characters reaction to him that you want me to know to complete Nathan's bakstory, shoot me an email!]