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unmaskedagain · 5 years

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No, Bruce! You can’t Adopt her.

This isn’t salt, Cupcake. But I’m going to do a quick drabble of this anyway because it’s an awesome idea.

The suit was a deep dark red. Darker than it used to be from what they had seen saw from the previous news reports reviewed. Her mask was black. Her eyes a startling blue and her hair a shade just touch short of being as dark as night. The girl looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen.

Somehow she had shown up on the scene just before any of the batfamily could and immediately solve the riddles, freed the innocent civilization, dismantle the bomb with rubber duck and a hair pin, dodged the trap, and was now fighting off the Riddler and his men.

And as they watched her kick the Riddler in the face and then yo-yo away, only to spin around and do it a second time, all the batkids knew they’d have to step in.

“You can’t adopt her, B-Man,” The Redhood pinched his nose.

Robin opened to his mouth his defend his father but quickly shut it. His four adopted brothers, an adopted sister, one sort of adopted “cousin”, and the hardcore way his father had been pushing Luke spend more and more time at the manner to the point where Lucius Fox had taken to glaring at the Dark Knight.

“…She needs a mentor,” Came Batman’s gruff response.

“You need a therapist.”

They winced when Ladybug broke the arm of a 300 pound bodybuilder and slam him on the ground.

Nightwing gave his dad a grin, “I’d love a new sister, OUCH!” His hand went his thigh and saw blood. He glared at Robin. “Did you stab me?”

Robin slowly sheathed his sword. “…No.”

“Let go!” Riddler screamed as he clawed at the floor as the red menace dragged across the floor by his legs.

“Stop squirming!” Marinette barked. “You’re going to jail!”

Somehow the Riddler managed to free himself. Then it was Ladybug chasing the Riddler around the tower.

“Come back here, you fashion disaster.”

The caused the Riddler to pause and give the hero the most hurt look anyone of the batfamily had ever seen on him.

“Black Bat would love a sister.”

“Leave me out of this,” Cassandra’s voice rang in their ears. She was patrolling with Batwoman across the city.

The fight ending with The Riddler hogtied, and dangling from the ceiling, while Ladybug chastised him on the rudeness of strapping people to bombs.

Batman smirked.

“No!” Red Robin decided to step in, “She probably has parents. You can keep doing this B.”

“And another thing,” Ladybug hissed. “I’ve seen Disney villains with more style than you; you walking neon glowstick.”

That was when Batman decided to step in. The Riddler visibly brightened at seeing him, “Bats, I don’t like this Robin. She’s mean. Bring back the boy Robin”

“That one lit you on fire.”

“…She made me cry.”

Ladybug glared at the bad guy.

Oh yes that was it, Batman was going to adopt Ladybug.

Bruce Wayne was going to adopt Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl and the rest of her class had taken the Wayne internship program that lasted a little more than a month a half during summer.

Marinette was the star. Unlike the other interns, Marinette was never late. She never complained. If someone needed research done, she was the first to volunteer and was exceptional at it. Tamara, Tim’s assistant, swore by her. The girl took to assisting the assistant to the CEO like fish to water. When they need a big name to perform at the Waynes’ annual charity Gala, after theirs backed out on short notice, Marinette had saved the day.

She didn’t interrupt. She had merely leaned down and whispered in Tamara’s here, who then addressed the rest of the room.

“My assistant Marinette,” Tamara nodded with a relieved smile at the young girl. “Would like us to direct our attention to the front screen.”

They all did. A few months later, the screen split and Clara Nightingale was on the screen, looking as glamourous as ever.

“Marinette,” She beamed. “Love, you are as gorgeous as ever. Now what’s this about a party in Gotham?”

Before she could answered, there was a beep on the screen as another call came in. Marinette scrambled to disconnect it, “One moment. Sorry.” Tamara got up to help, only for the call to connect anyway.

That was when Jagged Stone appeared on the screen, “Marinette, how’s it rocking? And Clara, I didn’t know you were on the line too. Penny!” He yelled. “I’ve facetiming Marinette and Clara. How you doing, loves?”

“Jagged,” Clara beamed. “I’m great. Xy’s been bugging me to lay vocals on his new tracks. I’ve heard better from my nephew’s garage band; and his nine.”

Jagged winced. “That’ll tank a career. Dude’s a sound biter.” He turned his attention back to his favorite bluenette. “Marinette, what’s up? What’s with the stiff in suits?”

Marinette blushed, “I’m Gotham working as intern for Wayne Industries.” Marinette said. “We’re in a meeting.” The young girl smiled prettily. “This is my amazing boss, Tamara!” She introduced the older black woman, standing between her and Tim. “And we could use some help with a Wayne charity event, on the 19th of this month.”

“I’m there!” Jagged grinned. “Hey! Penny, we’re going to Gotham. Marinette invited us to a party. We’re rocking out!”

“I’d love to come,” The brown-haired superstar clapped her hands. “I have been to Gotham yet. It will be an experience. I can write a song about Batman!”

“Well, we only need one of-” Marinette started but stopped herself as someone, Tim, jabbed her in the side. The only give away that something had happened was the slight widening of her eyes and then cough from Tim, when Marinette stomped on his foot. “Maybe, you guys can perform together.”

“YES!” Clara screamed excitedly. “A duet. A clash of natures.”

“Rock and Pop,” Jagged grinned his approval.

“The fans will love it,” The singer looked at Marinette. “Send us the deets. Jagged, I’ll call you in five to start composing our song.”

“Rock it out, talk later Marinette!”

Then the calls disconnected.

“Clara Nightingale and Jagged Stone,” Bruce leaned back in his seat. “Well done, Marinette.”

The Asian girl nodded, “Thank you, sir.” After the meeting let out, Tim, Bruce, Tamara, and Marinette remained behind as they finalized the information to send to the singers.

Bruce noticed Marinette give Tim a dark look, and then were was a huff and Tim winced in pain.

“Stopping fight with your brother,” Slipped from the billionaire’s mouth before he could stop it.

The room froze. Tim’s face morphed from shock to understanding to an incredulous expression, “No. I’m telling, Alfred.”

Bruce crossed his arms and pouted. Pouted. Marinette make an excellent additional the family.

Her and Ladybug.

He wondered how well the two would get along. If only he could get the two in a room together.

Meanwhile…

Lila had been feeding the class lies about her time in Gotham and living with the Wayne family. Alya believed every word, and had requested an interview with Lila’s Dami-bear.

Somehow she’d gotten stuck working in the mail room with Alya and Kim; neither were happy. She didn’t even know where Marinette ended up so she could spin a tail about the other girl threatening her to switch assignments.

The only bright spot was the Damian Wayne frequently visited Wayne tower to learn about how the business works. However, whenever she tried to get close to him, he’d give her a look of disdain.

That didn’t bother Lila though. As soon as he got to know her, or rather the her she’d tell him she was, Damian would fall head over heels.

However, as the weeks went on in Gotham, she found all her plans to get close to the Wayne heir failed. She even tried visiting his home, feigning being lost, only for the Butler to send her packing. Lila didn’t even get a chance to look inside.

When she learned about the gala, she upped her game. She found herself just “happening by” whenever Damian just happened to be walking by. One time, Lila even pretended to trip and hurt herself; only for Kim to “rescue” her and Damian to walk on by like she didn’t even exist.

On the night of the gala, she sat in her hotel room with her adoring classmates, watching it on TV, “I’d have gone of course but Dami-bear didn’t want me to get attention from any Gotham villains.”

Alya nodded sympathetically.

Lila opened her mouth to regale another tale about her and Damian love affairs when Sabrina cut her off, “Hey, that’s Marinette!”

And sure enough, the girl they had all froze out and declared their ex-friend was on screen walking with Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, a beautiful black woman, Damian Wayne, and Tim Drake. Marinette wore a stunning sliver dress that made eyes stand out even more.

“Who are you wearing, Clara!” A paparazzi called.

“MDC,” The superstar answered and placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “This designer here. Marinette Dupain-Cheng; she designed all of our looks tonight; including her own. Doesn’t she look wonderful?”

More questions were thrown out.

“Jagged, why a crocodile? Why not a dog or a cat.”

“Damian, who are you dating?”

“Why is MDC with you, Tim?”

Jagged answered first, “Well I wanted a dog. But I’m deathly allergic to fur. Found out when I was a kid. Can’t get near it. Dogs are cool but cats aren’t rock and roll enough for me.”

“I am dating no one,” Damian answered. “Any rumors that say otherwise are lies. Anyone that says otherwise is lying, and should keep in mind I will sue for defamation of character.”

Tim grinned at the crowd, “Marinette is Tamara’s intern. She helped organize this wonderful event. She did such an amazing job as an intern that I’ve had to stop my dad from trying to adopt her.” There were laughs from the crowed.

Damian snorted as they walked inside, “He is not joking.” He was the one who found the adoption papers.

#marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #class salt #ml salt #bruce wayne #crack #batfamily

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mypersonmyg · 4 years

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here. | knj

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: angst, fluff

rating: pg-15

wc: 2k

warnings: angst, the stripping of clothes

summary: he just wants to take you to the cider mill OR namjoon draws you a bath

a/n: day 2 of drabble month! i’m actually not sure how i feel about this, i keep meaning to write fluff but somehow there’s always ANGST !!!! anyways, enjoy

prompt 2. B - Bath. The otp+ share a bath or shower, or bathe as in swimming or sunbathing.

november drabbles masterlist

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The crackling of distant flames fills the canals of wind-kissed ears, temperate hands singing praise against the reprieve of mugged cider. You glance slides to the window nearest, the patter of rain the backdrop to an otherwise uneventful afternoon. Your hand falls mid-sip to the flash of your screen, contact bringing a smile to your face as the device is eagerly pressed to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t pick up earlier, I was--”

“Busy?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighs, tone saturated with disappointment.

“You already said that,” Your words accentuate a forthcoming giggle, not the least concerned with pushed plans. You don’t miss another heavy sigh, your own following suit when you realize how distant this feels. “It’s raining, we would’ve gotten soaked anyways.”

“Yeah, but the mill is closing soon and I promised you we would go,” Namjoon looks for permission to blame, his words not untrue. Plans were made at the head of the season, the leaves only midway through routine transformation. It was before life made appearance, the two of you still on high from a summer filled with romance renewed. Now your schedules seems to perfect the dodge of time, one busy whilst the other remains free, a continued nuisance on your chilly plans.

“Joonie, it’s okay! There’s still time and even if we don’t go this year there’s always the next.” You’re aware that your words impact little, the determination of your dimpled lover never easily swayed. He doesn’t respond, the crackling of fueled flames continuing to drift through the air around you. “Joonie?”

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry.” The taste his words leave are bitter, tone resigned to failure, the imagined drop of his shoulders causing your lips to do the same. “Um...I have to get to class soon. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You could come see me…”

“I can’t, I’ve got a lot of work and...yeah.” Your suggestion is met with immediate hesitance, your heart plummeting at hurried rejection and a half baked explanation. Suddenly the comfort of drops against the misted glass are simply a reflection, demeanor greyed without pause.

“O-Oh, that’s okay. I should probably do some shopping anyways, my cabinets are screaming to be filled.” Your attempt at a natural humor sounds flat in your own ears, chuckle falling short. “Okay, well I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah...I love you.” Even coated in sincerity it feels off, spine tingling with a discomforting chill. Even so you respond in hum, a ‘you too’ drifting down the line before it altogether goes dead.

Your phone is tossed, hands immediately falling to a trace against the edge of your mug half-filled. The cider is lukewarm, it’s spiced appeal now no more than a withering tang. Your eyes fall shut, immediate images of flowered fields and tandem bikes taking you back to the season long past. You begin to wonder if affection fled just as soon, phased like newlyweds though you were far from such fantastical slopes.

You push up with a sigh, though your words were dropped from a hat your cabinets remained rather bare. It was usually at Namjoon’s insistence and begged accompaniment that you would float through the aisles of the grocery, haphazardly filling the cart whilst he sifts through with care, making sure all of your bases are covered. Now as you step to the door, galoshes shoved to feet and windbreaker covering sleeved arms you can’t recall what the bases are.

Your drive is silent, radio filled with festive cheer left on mute as thoughts race and worries bubble over a surface left unsteady. Your trip through silent storelanes is much the same, the ringing at the register leaving you uncertain if your purchase contains any objects of use.

When you’re pulling back into your lot, it’s the realization of fatigue. Your skin is heavy and the dragging of your heart has made it even more so. You’re not unaware of your own dramatic curve of emotion, but it’s a symptom unshakable. Your own autumn fever, a nonmedicinal cold.

The beat of rain against the windshield keeps you firm, desire to lug bags through the spill less intriguing than the snug of heated leather. Your train of thought is derailed by the cup of hands against the driver side glass, familiar rounds staring through breathed fog. Your hand his quick to roll the window, Namjoon’s hooded head peeking through.

“What are you doing?” He immediately ponders, glancing at your door and back.

“Me? What are you doing? I thought you had homework,” You counter flinching at the drop of cold seeping around Namjoon’s towering form. He regards you for only a moment, pupils tracing your features, attention tunneled.

“You’re upset.”

“What?” Not false, but you feel the relax of your muscles, sure that nothing external gives way to your inner storm.

“You didn’t say it back...you’re upset. Come on, it’s freezing out, I’ll help you take your things in.”

“You don’t--” He doesn’t leave room for counter, already rounding to the boot of the vehicle, easily scooping up a hefty sum. You retrieve what little remains, legs hurrying to grant access to your darkened home. Namjoon’s navigation is quick, if not a little clumsy, the clatter of bags followed seamlessly by the flick of a switch.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Namjoon floats near the doorframe, feet shifting beneath him. Your face pulls to a confused squint, question sudden if not completely ridiculous.

“Um...yes?” He takes not a moment, dashing off without another word. Your focus shifts to the unbag and refill, almost forgetting altogether that Namjoon inhabits the depths of your home. It’s only when you’ve placed a solitary bag of rice that your attention shifts.

You enter the living room, the expectations of a muscled giant occupying the better half of your couch left unfulfilled. You traverse to the bathroom in the far hall, muffled mutters and the knock of a bottle from the counter telling enough that Namjoon is still inside. You raise to knock at the door, hands daintily tapping at worn wood.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh,,,yeah. Are you done with the groceries?” He sounds just beyond the barrier, as if he’s pressed to the frame much like yourself.

“Yeah, I just-you weren’t in the living room so I wanted to see if everything was--”

“Everything is fine!” Namjoon yanks at the door, the sound of his displeased grunts at his own lapsed memory accompanying the twist of the lock. In his reveal, he’s smiling down at you, cheeks stretched to capacity. “Come in.”

You do as told, eyes on Namjoon as you enter the decently sized space. The spillage of goop beneath your shoe draws your gaze and from there the overflow of bubbles from your bathtub. You surprise yourself with the laughter that spills without pretense.

“Joon, how much did you put in here? It’s not a swimming pool,” You tease, frame turning to him once more, the blush of his cheeks heightened under low lights. Your hands easily find purchase around his middle, face burying into the fabric of his tee. “You drew me a bath.”

“I wanted to make you feel better,” He explains in short, sizable hands tracing the line of your spine. You inhale, his pine-like scent mixed with the wash of rain and a hint of bubble bath fills your senses. You’re almost content, the stiff of your limbs still apparent, Namjoon’s hold on your shoulders telling you as much.

His hands travel to the hem of your shirt, easily lifting it over your head to be tossed from view. He takes only a moment to absorb your bra clad form before the gentle pull at your shoulders turning you from view. His fingers expertly unhinge the clasp of your bra, the material falling to the floor. Your hands take it upon themselves, sliding into the waist of your bottoms, sending them and your panties to the tile flooring.

You grip the tubs edge, feigned porcelain cool against your fingers. The gentle dip of a toe falling to rippled waters as you shiver with intention, the rest of your body eager to dive into the satisfying grips of liquid warmth. When you’re fully submerged you breathe with content, head pushed to a backward tilt and eyes closing for the briefest moment until the click of a shoe forces you back to current.

“Are you not getting in?” You stop Namjoon mid step in the opposing direction, his lips pulled into surprised pucker hand tracing hollowed cheeks. “Get in.”

You create space behind you, Namjoon watching you for only a moment before quickly stripping himself bare, sliding in behind you, arms immediately pulling you against his chest. Like this you remain, silent, surrounded by warmth and worries respectively. It’s the tightening of arms against your waist that breaks the spell, Namjoon’s voice deep, his breath fanning your neck.

“Are you okay?” You feel his timber in your core, head falling against his shoulder. You can only hum, though it’s unsatisfactory, “You seemed off earlier and...you didn’t say it back.”

You force yourself to shift so his face falls to view, those same words from earlier peaking interest. “What are you talking about, what didn’t I say?”

“I said I love you earlier and you said ‘you too’” It had seemed inconsequential in current time, your own emotions plunging you into freefall, but you can hear the hurt in his words and the tension of his grip. “And you didn’t really seem happy to see me.”

“I was-I am happy to see you,” You assure, loosening his hold to an interwoven hold of your hands. “I was just upset.”

“About the mill, I know.”

“No. I told you I wasn’t upset about that and I wasn’t lying. I was and am upset that you just shut down on me! You made up some lame excuse so you didn’t have to come over and it upsets me that you think you have to lie or that you can’t tell me how you’re feeling.”

It wasn’t planned, your spill of words, but there they sit, floating upon a sea of bubbles and a tender silence. It’s with regret that a fragment of you imagines the loosening of limbs and Namjoon leaving you to sulk. You’re aware of the issue, but resolution has yet to present and you’re unsure if it ever will.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh at repetitive words, the direction of conversation looking familiar. “I just wish I could be better for you.”

You start at the revelation, attempt to turn to him in comfort rejected as he hold you still in a grip soft and steady..

“Namjoon--”

“No. Just let me finish...please.” You settle once more, water already turning luke around you, a heavy silence stewing you in heavy thoughts. “You say that things are fine and that you’re happy and I believe you, I do, but I also know that you hide your struggles just as much as I do. You hide them better, but I know you’re struggling.”

No response appears adequate, the words you wanted to speak not moments ago dead against your vocal chords. Your anger seems hypocritical when he says the words, your ability to cover your fears blinding even you to your two faces.

“I know that you wanted to go to the mill because it’s something that makes you happy and when I couldn’t give that to you I guess I started questioning whether I could give you what you deserve.” Namjoon continues when he realizes you won’t speak. “I started to get in my head and I knew you wouldn’t tell me that you were hurting and figured it was my job to pull away.”

“Well it’s not,” You breathe, finally finding the will to speak. “I don’t want you to pull away or feel like it’s your job to make me feel better because it’s not. Not to mention that you leaving or creating distance only makes me feel worse.”

“I’m--”

“Don’t.” You stop him before he can conjure the words. “Don’t be sorry, I don’t ever want you to be sorry. Just be here. Be here for me and know that I’m always here for you.”

“Okay,” His lips find your shoulders, a series of kisses against smooth skin. After a moment he speaks once more in a hush, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #ficwithluv #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #knj x reader #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon drabble #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts november drabbles 2020

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wooleeza · 7 years

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C3AFA 2017 B-Pro Stage Report

Alright folks… so I promised some of you that I would be writing a detailed post about my C3AFA Singapore 2017 experience of the B-pro Stage and Meet and Greet sessions. I’m a rambly person by nature, so the post turned out longer than expected. Hence, it’ll come in two parts – I’ll post about the Meet and Greet session separately. Also, Kakki said that he’s a 35-year-old ojisan (like repeatedly!), so please forgive this obasan (who is of the same age) for having a memory like Swiss cheese! My proficiency in Japanese is really low, so I couldn’t catch most of the finer details. Please correct me if some of the quotations are wrong! Also, some details may be in the wrong sequence, so I’d appreciate any comments or suggested corrections from those who also attended the event. Please note also that there may be a huge Kakki-bias in this report, but I’ll try to be fair to the Tosshi fans who are reading this write-up. Do be mentally prepared for unabashed gushing ahead though! Sigh… they’re both so adorkable!

First up, the B-Pro Stage!

The emcees (translators) did a short round of self-introduction before inviting Kakki and Tosshi to come onstage to wild applause and screams from the mostly female crowd. Tosshi had a black hat on and wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a checkered design and dark pants, while Kakki wore a black T-shirt, grey pants, a black long-sleeved shirt over the T-shirt and dark sneakers with white laces. (Which begs the question… why the added layer, Kakki? You’ve got beautiful muscled arms and Singapore’s a swelteringly hot country… single layers next time yo! Sorry, I digress…) We screamed “konnichiwa!” at both of them once they greeted us. Tosshi attempted to add English words whenever he could, which was really cute! Kakki greeted us impersonating Morikubo Showtaro’s voice, before switching to his regular voice. Tosshi remarked that we, the audience, were really able to understand Japanese well! ("Yappari, nihongo wakarimasu desu ne!") and the fans screamed in response. They then sat towards stage left (*my side! Yay!*), with Kakki on the outermost bar stool, which he kept spinning back and forth on throughout the Q&A. (He’s so twitchy! XD)

B-project = Beard Project?

Before the interview could commence properly, the seiyuus began commenting on the bushy appearance of the male emcee, who is an ethnic Sikh currently studying to become a voice actor in Japan. According to the female emcee, Kakki and Tosshi were saying that they were amazed by the male emcee’s beard, for they did not know where it ended and where his black jacket began! The emcee is 26 years old, and been growing his beard ever since he was 13. (Note: Traditionally, the Sikhs are unshorn from birth.) Kakki and Tosshi couldn’t believe that he was only 26 (the beard made him look so much older), which cued the male emcee asked them how old they were. Tosshi said he was 33 while Kakki said he was 35 – an ojisan; then remarked that they looked the same age as the male emcee. They then said that they aimed to grow their own beards too, so B-project would now mean ‘Beard Project’!

On Singapore and speaking English

The emcees asked if they had been to Singapore before. Tosshi said that he was in Singapore for the first time, and repeated “first time” in English once he heard the translation. This became a running joke throughout the Q&A, because whenever he could, Tosshi would suddenly say “first time!”. Kakki said that he had come once when he was very young, so he did not remember his first experience here. However, he believed that this trip would be much more memorable. When the male emcee translated his words, Kakki listened intently and then pointed at him and said “Yes, exactly!” to the cheers of the audience upon hearing the English words. Tosshi then remarked that Kakki should just speak in English without the translator’s help since he could understand the language so well, but Kakki said that he would rather not because English is hard for him and it gives him a headache to think in English. At this point, he mimicked collapsing from overexertion on his stool. (So cute!) The interviewers then asked what food they have tried / want to try in Singapore. Tosshi immediately said “Jumbo” (a Chinese seafood restaurant chain), where they ate chilli crab and cereal prawns. According to Kakki, Tosshi liked the prawns so much that he ate everything - tails, shell and all! Tosshi added “First time!” to emphasise his enjoyment of the dish.

Kakki’s “I woke up late” Story

Next, the seiyuus were asked if they had any tips for the male emcee on becoming a seiyuu. I blanked out at this stage and don’t remember what Tosshi’s response was because Kakki chose this moment to stare at my side of the audience (dare I say it, right at me!) and was smiling flirtatiously! (I should have waved or blown him a kiss damn it…. But I was just frozen to the spot, staring and smiling dumbly back at him!) So anyway, Tosshi called him out for his inattention and Kakki had to ask what the question was again. Once he heard it, Kakki sheepishly said that it is the most important to be on time for their recordings. Tosshi immediately began laughing and said that the C3AFA panel almost didn’t happen because Kakki woke up late the day before, and almost didn’t make the plane to Singapore! However, he also said that rather than being worried about having to come to Singapore to do the panel by himself, he was more amused at the thought of the face Kakki would have upon his arrival at the airport.

Here’s a recount of the hilarious incident. Apparently Kakki was supposed to leave at 8.30am that morning, but ended up WAKING UP AT 8.30am. Kakki began demonstrating his rushed packing of the suitcase, yelling “zen zen dame da!” (“Everything is NOT okay!”) when his manager called to ask if everything was alright, his wild drive to the airport and finally his arrival there, where he had to find the way to get to the ticket counter the most quickly. He had wanted to make a cool and suave entry, but basically ended up sprawling on top of his suitcase and sliding all the way to the check-in counter! At this point, he used the bar stool to demonstrate the undignified position he was in, complete with legs raised off the floor. The audience was in stitches by then, whether they understood Japanese or not. The male emcee then translated his words (and Kakki again said, “That’s right, exactly!” to the translation), but added that he would not repeat the physical demonstration.

I Voice Therefore I Am

The actors were asked about what they had in common with the B-pro characters they were voicing. Tosshi is quite the comedian actually, so he has very little in common with Kaneshiro Goshi, who is a tsundere type character. Completely straight-faced, he said, “I sing. We share the same voice!” much to the audience’s amusement. Kakki reacted with great enthusiasm to the background screen which showed the characters’ pictures and their profiles, and his attention was drawn to Momotarou Onzai’s blood type. He was like “Eh?! It’s AB too?” and then he said that another similarity was that both he and Momo are “machi shokai” (city boys). (Note to those who don’t know: Kakki’s hobby is asking for and memorising the blood types of other people, because he himself has the rarest blood type, ABRh-.)

Being a Seiyuu = taihen desu yo!

The actors were asked what the recording atmosphere is like. Tosshi gravely said, “Taihen desu yo!” (“It’s very tough!”) with a pointed look at Kakki, who was like “Who, me?”. Then, Tosshi added that he actually also plays around with the others sometimes, and they made sheep sounds together (or rather, they both attempted to impersonate Morikubo Showtaro! XD) Apparently, in the recording studio, many of the actors who are familiar with one another tend to fool around, and Tosshi is often the mature and adult-like one who tries to bring everyone back to serious mode while Kakki plays around a lot. That said, they all have a lot of fun during the recording, especially because they are all familiar with their characters by the time they step into the studio to record the songs.

On surprises

The actors were asked what has surprised them since becoming a seiyuu. Tosshi said that he was surprised that B-project has fans even in Singapore. Another thing that surprised him about their job is the need for seiyuus to go for tv shows, interviews and events. As for Kakki, he said that when male voice actors enter the industry, they expect to voice shonen characters in mecha animes, but here he was voicing an idol bishounen years younger than himself. It is surprising to him that he gets to act as an idol-type character at his age. At this point, he stood up and said dramatically, “I’m a 35-year-old ojisan!” (You’re not old, Kakki, damn it! By the way, I’m born in the same year as you, so does that make me an ancient relic?! Besides, you look much younger than your actual age, you ageless freak… ok sorry, I really love you!)

Wonderful Japan?

The emcees asked Kakki and Tosshi what they thought was wonderful about Japan. Both of them looked quite clueless about where to begin, then Kakki said that the fans should know better what is wonderful about Japan, because to them, they take a lot of things for granted living there. They don’t understand what is wonderful about Tokyo Tower and rarely even go there, but tourists seem to know a lot more about it. They said that the food is delicious there, but that food is also delicious here in Singapore. They also asked the audience what we loved most about Japan, to which we yelled “Anime!”

Final words

Tosshi expressed his gratitude to Kakki for inviting him to accompany him to C3AFA Singapore 2017. Apparently, Kakki had been asked which fellow voice actor he wanted to come to Singapore with, and he had said, “I want Toyonaga-kun to come with me.” Hence, Tosshi was in Singapore for his “first time!”. Kakki said that he was grateful for the opportunity to come here. Both Kakki and Tosshi were only told that the anime would have a second season and they did not know any more details about it, yet here they were all the way from Japan to promote it. Both of them said that they were happy that we were able to learn Japanese by watching anime. They thanked the fans for making the stage event a truly enjoyable one. When they headed backstage, Kakki turned around to wave at the audience again before they disappeared behind the curtain.

Overall thoughts (Warning: gushfest ahead)

Both of them were adorable and so down-to-earth! I didn’t know much about Tosshi prior to this event, but I had a really good impression of him after this! By the way, the way Tosshi yells “Urusaiiii!” is so manly and assertive. He may be small-sized, but he has a huge presence. I was greatly amused by his sense of comedic timing.

Kakki is beautiful… and so twitchy! Kakki kept swivelling from side to side on his bar stool, and also adjusted the height at one point so that he could swivel more comfortably. It was hypnotizing to watch actually! His eyes look really large even from a distance, and when he stared in my direction I was just struck dumb by the sheer force of that gaze. *slaps self* In person, he’s so bouncy! I cannot believe that he actually demonstrated the sprawling position on the bar stool (which is hard plastic by the way!)

Right, this report is already pushing 2000 words, and I’m just through with the stage part… Please stay tuned for my impression of the Meet and Greet session! I’ll post that sometime later this week or next week. Also, I must give a shoutout to my two companions that day, Wenchie and Yolanda, who have also been helping me plug the holes in my Swiss Cheese brain. Thank you girls!

#kakihara tetsuya #toyonaga toshiyuki #b-project #c3afasg17 #c3afa2017

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hannahindie · 7 years

Text

Country Roads, Take Me Home: Chapter 3

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Word Count: 2,951 Warnings: Dean sass, Reader sass, maybe sad Sam? Also, descriptions of violence and the not so great history of an asylum. A/N: This is Chapter Three of Country Roads, Take Me Home, so if you’d like to catch up, Chapter 1 is here and Chapter 2 is here! I started this as part of @ravengirl94‘s 1.5k follower celebration, but my prompt didn’t appear until this part. It’s in bold within the text.

For those of you that are familiar with Trans-Allegheny, it holds a very special place in my heart. The information here can be found at their website and from various sources that I pulled from Google. I also got some of it directly from a person that used to work there, so the descriptions of what happened may not be 100% accurate, but I did hear it first hand. If you’re interested, definitely take a look. It’s an awesome building, despite the dark history behind it.

Beta’d by my sweet waterbear @trexrambling and my beautiful panda @pinknerdpanda. Thank you sweet beans! As always, tags are at the bottom and if you’d like to be added, please let me know! I hope you enjoy!

“Say again exactly where we’re going?”

I looked up from the book I was reading and pulled an earbud out, “What?”

I saw Dean roll his eyes in the rear-view mirror, “I said, what is the place called that we are currently driving towards?”

My eyes went back to my book, and I flipped the page, “Oh. It’s called Bear Town. Bear Town State Park.”

“Bear Town? Am I to assume that this place is full of bears? Why are we going there, anyway?” Dean grumbled.

I sighed and shut my book as it became obvious that my quiet time was over, “We are going there because it’s beautiful, especially this time of year. You guys haven’t spent much time in the mountains, have you?” When neither of them answered I continued, “The leaves are changing this time of year, and they are especially pretty in the mountains. There hasn’t been a bear sighting in ages. I’ve been a few times and have never seen one. Is Dean Winchester afraid of bears?”

He grunted, “No, I’m not, but I’m also not a fan of getting my face ripped off. What else is there?”

I shrugged, “It's just a bunch of wooden walkways and big rocks and a lot of moss. I don't really know how to describe it. Anyway, Sam will appreciate this one. It’s on the eastern summit of Droop Mountain.”

“What the hell is Droop Mountain?”

I could see Sam perk up in the front seat, “So get this…” I smiled to myself, put my headphones back in, and ignored the obvious glare Dean was shooting at me in the rearview mirror.

I pulled my jacket closer to me as I walked along the slippery wooden walkway that led between the tall rock faces and large boulders. My eyes roamed across the moss covered trees that leaned haphazardly against each other, their falling leaves creating a brilliant carpet of reds, yellows, and oranges at the base of their trunks. I walked between two towering cliffs, taking in all the nooks and crevices that had formed over the years, and stopped at the platform on the other side. I leaned against the railing and looked out over the forest. It was quiet save for the soft drips of condensation as the water rolled from the leaves and pattered against the age worn platforms and stone. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, savoring the cool air and silence. I heard soft footsteps come up behind me, and I opened my eyes. I knew without turning who it was.

“Hey, Sam.”

He leaned against the railing next to me, a small smile playing across his lips. “How’d you know it was me?”

I shrugged, “You weren’t loudly complaining about how wet everything was.”

Sam chuckled, “To be fair to Dean, these walkways are pretty slick.”

I grinned, “He did kind of look like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time.”

“I heard that! Assholes.” His voice echoed loudly in the otherwise empty woods.

I laughed, “Poor Dean, can’t catch a break can he?” I looked out into the trees with the slight hope I’d actually see a bear. It was something I did every time I came here, even though I knew that the chances were to slim to none. I could feel Sam staring at me, “What?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, “Yea...I mean, as much as I can be, I guess. It was a long time ago, Sam.” I turned around and leaned back against the railing so that we were facing each other. “Nothing anyone could have done would have changed the outcome. I’m not even sure you getting there faster would have mattered, not in the end. I’ve known that for a long time, but seeing the house again and how empty it felt...I’m okay. It helps just being here, you know? These are the places I used to run to when I just needed some time to myself. It’s nice to share it with my new family.” Sam’s hazel eyes stared into mine, and I found myself trying to figure out exactly what color they actually were.

“New family?” Sam asked as he leaned in a little closer, and his hand covered mine on the railing. I swallowed thickly and nodded, but didn’t speak in fear that my voice would betray me. Since the day that we met, I had always been drawn to Sam. It was in the way he could turn from the gentlest person to the most dangerous hunter at a moment’s notice, how kind he was, how he always saw the good in people despite all the bad he’d seen. I knew that he felt like he had to make up for what was inside of him, but I also knew that despite the darkness in his veins, the light in him shone much brighter.

“Of course...you two are my life. You’re the reason I’m even here.” Sam moved back and stuck both hands into his pockets, and I looked at him, confused, “What?”

“Nothin’, I just...I think Dean’s coming.”

Dean rounded the corner, cursing under his breath as he gripped the railing tightly. He glared at me, “It hasn’t even rained! This is ridiculous. Are we about finished here?”

I nodded, “Yea, the end of the trail is just up there...that is, if you think you can make it, Bambi.”

He let go of the railing long enough to flip me off and I laughed, but I couldn’t help but notice that Sam remained quiet. I thought about asking him what was wrong, then realized it would be pointless, especially now that Dean had caught up. I made my way towards the end of the trail just as my cell phone went off. I jumped; it was odd enough to get a phone call, but Bear Town was not exactly known for its excellent cell reception.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yea, who….Beth? Is that you?”

“Yea! How’s it going?”

Dean threw his hands up and glared at me, and I waved him off, “I’m doing okay. How are you?”

“Weird, to say the least. Honestly...not great. We’ve got a bit of a problem.”

I sighed, knowing what she was going to say before she even said it, “You know I love that place more than anything else in this world, but I told you when you said you were getting a job there it was a bad plan. We discussed it at length.”

“Yea, well I didn’t listen and now here we are. You need to come home and help us out. I can’t really talk about it over the phone.”

“Well, the good news for you is that I am home, so your timing couldn’t be better. Can you at least give me something to go off of?” She was silent for a moment. “Beth!”

She sighed, “We’ve had a couple of people...die. One was found hanging from a pipe, and the other one...the other one had the leg of a bed rammed through their temple.”

I ran a hand across my face, “That’s not great, Beth. I...ugh. Okay, well I’m about two and a half hours out, and I’m going to try to find a library. Hold tight, okay?”

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you.”

“Psht, you already owe me. See you soon.” I jammed the phone back into my pocket, “I need to get to a library.”

“What was that all about?” Dean asked as we continued down the boardwalk.

“That was my friend Beth. She works at an abandoned insane asylum and they’re having some...issues.”

“What kind of issues? How do you work at a place that’s abandoned?”

I climbed the last flight of steps and into the parking lot, “They give tours, they do haunted houses. Actually, they’re probably getting ready for their haunted house right now, but they also have overnight tours. Ghost hunts.”

“This is exactly how people get killed, what kind of idiots want to pay to actually go-”

I whipped around and glared at Dean, “First of all, it’s not just about the ghosts, okay? There’s a lot more to it than that, and I would appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself. Second, it doesn’t matter if it’s smart or not. No one deserves to die just because they’re interested in something.” I flung the back door open and climbed into the back seat, “I texted you the address. It’s not hard to find.”

I slammed the door shut and looked silently out the window. I saw Dean pause as he rounded the driver’s side, as if he was thinking of something to say once he got in the car, but he quietly climbed into the driver’s seat and the comforting roar of the engine filled the silence. I glanced towards Sam and caught him staring at me, but as soon as our eyes met, he turned to face the front again.

I sighed. So much for a relaxing trip home.

“Alright, boys, sit down and get ready to learn some shit about one of my favorite places in this world.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, his arms crossed, “Why in the hell would a haunted insane asylum be your favorite place? What were you like before we met you?”

I glared back at him, “Sit your ass down and maybe you’ll find out.” I heard Sam choke back a laugh as Dean pulled back the chair and sat down grumpily. I pulled up a couple of web pages and turned the computer so that Sam and Dean could both see it. “This is where we’re going. Before it closed it was called Weston State Hospital, but the original name was Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. It was built between 1858 and 1881, and it was only supposed to hold 250 souls originally.”

“Only? I’m assuming that they went over that number,” Sam muttered, and I nodded.

“Just a little. By the time it reached its peak during the 1950’s, the building held 2,400 patients. Of course, it had been added to after the Civil War finally ended, but still.”

“Jesus!” Dean exclaimed, “How did that even happen?”

I shrugged, “That’s just how it was, Dean. Trans-Allegheny was not the only place that was overcrowded, and despite the living conditions, it probably wasn’t even the worst. The man that designed it, Richard Andrews, built it using the Kirkbride plan, which essentially based its building plans on wide, open spaces and lots of light. Kirkbride had the belief that fresh air and sunlight helped with the rehabilitation of both physical and mental issues. It seems like they at least tried, but Kirkbride buildings are huge, they’re hard to take care of, there were too many people, and West Virginia is not exactly known for its overflowing financial assistance.”

“Why is this place your favorite place? It sounds...well, it sounds awful, Y/N,” Dean grumbled.

I rolled my eyes, “Like I said, I have my reasons. Trans-Allegheny was an important institution in Weston for a long time, right? When it closed in 1994, it hit the town hard economically, and it still hasn’t recovered. The thing is, it’s also a historical building. It is the largest hand-cut stone masonry building in North America, and it’s supposedly the second largest in the world. The only one of its kind that is bigger is the Kremlin in Russia. It’s not just about ‘hauntings’, Dean.”

Dean groaned, “Saving historical buildings isn't in our job description, Y/N.”

“This is one of the most important places in West Virginia, and it’s been a fight for them to keep it open so people can experience the history of it! It’s an ugly history, but definitely something people should know about,” I argued.

“Not to mention the tourism aspect. Weston is still trying to recover, but Trans-Allegheny has been on television, people from all over the place come to see it. It brings people into the town. It might not be a perfect solution, but I can see where it would help,” Sam chimed in as he read over the asylum’s website.

“Which is why we need to help Beth out, because if people keep dying in there, it’s going to get shut down,” I concluded my argument as I cast a thankful look to Sam.

Dean waved a hand in the air, “The ‘people are dying left and right’ part has obviously been lost on you, Y/N. But sure, let's save the clock tower, Marty McFly.”

I glared at Dean as Sam pulled the computer towards him and began to scroll, “This place is huge, Y/N. How are we supposed to know where to even start? Looking at this, there were several murders. There’s a farm and a cemetery on the property….it’s literally hundreds of acres. The building itself is one of the biggest I’ve seen like this.”

“Well, that’s where my knowledge of this place comes in handy. I have a couple of ideas...although at least one of them is based upon a story that changes constantly. Also...I’m not sure where these people are buried, or if they even were.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, “Well, that sounds great. I’m glad that your knowledge doesn’t even include the two things we need to know.”

“I know more about this place than either one of you. Plus, the stories may not be one hundred percent accurate, but I heard them from someone who actually worked there in the 80s and 90s.”

I took the laptop back from Sam and flipped tabs, “They kept a lot of the non-violent patients in these big rooms, like dormitories, and they each had their own bed. The story goes that two of the patients, who probably should have been in the violent ward but due to overcrowding were in the dorm, began to pick on one of the other patients. When he got too loud, they stopped in fear of him telling on them and moved their attention to another patient who was deaf and didn’t speak. This is where it gets...bad.”

Dean ran a hand across his face, “Because this wasn’t already bad enough. Go on.”

I cleared my throat, “So these two guys tied a bed sheet around the man’s neck and threw it over a pipe that ran across the ceiling. They’d started to hang him, then they’d drop him down, then do it again. They did this for maybe half an hour before they got tired of it, and in fear that he was going to tell on them, drug him over to one of the beds. They then proceeded to put one of the bed legs against his temple, and both men jumped on the bed until it penetrated his skull. And because they thought they could get by with it, they ran down the hall to the nurses’ station, covered in blood, and claimed that a ghost killed their friend.”

“Well, that’s a good contender. Does it say where that guy is buried?”

I shook my head, “No, this story doesn’t really show up anywhere...I got it directly from someone that used to work there when it was still open. I mean, I’m sure it’s been written down somewhere, but nothing concrete. Beth told me that there have been two killings...one by hanging, and the other one involved a bedpost.” I frowned, “So these three guys are most likely the culprits. There was a nurse that disappeared as well and was found two months later dumped under an unused staircase when the building was still a hospital. So...I don’t know. A lot of people died there, so it could be a number of things. We just need to go look and see.”

“Who is this Beth girl, anyway? How do you know her?”

“I grew up with her, she's one of my best friends.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “And she knows what you do on a regular basis? And she's fine with that?”

I shrugged, “Yea, she's known for a long time. We were always into this kind of stuff when we were younger, it didn't take much to make her believe me. She's not about the hunting part, but she's been useful for research. So, now that you've got an idea of what's happening, let's get moving. It's a couple of hours from here and I'd like to get there as soon as we can.” I closed the laptop and slipped it into my bag, then pushed away from the table. I could feel Dean staring at me, “What?”

Dean glared at me silently for a moment then stood slowly and pushed his chair in, “Your inability to say no to a friend is gonna get us killed some day.”

I rolled my eyes, “Because living with the Winchesters and dealing with literally every demon and angel you work with keeps me safe on the daily. Suck it up, buttercup, and let's go deal with a regular monster for a change.” Dean stalked off in a huff and I caught Sam’s eye as he stood to leave. “Hey, Sam?”

He stopped and looked at me, and for a moment I almost forgot what I wanted to say. “Yea?”

“Is everything...are we okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Yea, sure. Why?”

I shrugged, “You've just been quiet since Bear Town. I was afraid I'd said something…”

He shook his head, “Nah, you were pretty clear. We’re good, don't worry about it.”

“Sam, I-”

“We should go. Dean’s already in a mood, don't want to make it worse.” He walked off, and I watched as he disappeared through the doors, unsure of what to do or say.

Read Chapter 4 HERE.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @escabell @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester@zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites

Country Roads, Take Me Home: @karlilarki @dontslurp @supernatural-fangirl13 @night-thinker-23

#supernatural fanfiction #country roads take me home #sam winchester #reader insert #dean winchester #trans allegheny lunatic asylum #west virginia

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theseventeenthcentury-blog1 · 6 years

Text

New Musical Express 17 February 1996

LOOK BACK IN WRANGLER

His friends said his house smelt! His dad deserted him after a caravan holiday! And nobody ever understands the dysfunctional, heart-felt lyrics of his novelty Euro-electropop. LAWRENCE, aka DENIM, has a good old whinge to TED KESSLER about life, love and the trials and tribulations involved in recording his latest offering, 'Denim On Ice'. Agony and ecstasy: DEREK RIDGERS

The happiest day of Lawrence's life was when he came home from work to find his mum had finally killed the dog. And in the same week that his dad left home! How brilliant is that?

God, did he hate that dog. They all did: his mum, his sister, the rest of the village. Even his dad might have, but he'd stopped talking to Lawrence five years earlier so he couldn't be sure. Its fair to say, though, that dog had ruined Lawrence's life.

It wasn't just the smell of the thing; although, if we have to draw up a list of the beast's faults, that'd be top. He smelt so foul that Lawrence hadn't been able to bring his mates home since the day he'd returned from school, aged seven, with a friend who'd walked into the hallway and yelled, "Phroooar! What's that stink?"

Well, you know what kids are like. That was it. He'd have to do the visiting now. Everyone In the village thought he lived in a slum anyway. He wasn't going to let on that it ponged of a vicious dog that behaved like a mad pig.

So, when his mum woke to find his dad had left in the night, She decided to have the dog put down. Lawrence thought it was the coolest thing she'd ever done. He'd lost faith in her long ago when her response to his musical ambitions was, "People like us don't join groups", but, for a moment there, he'd seen a glimmer ...

When he moved away from Water Orton to live the life of an artist in the dull lights of Birmingham he cut all links to his mum. But killing that dog, man, killing that dog was very cool. Your dad splits but he leaves his dog so your mum kills his dog. Hmm ... maybe Lawrence had been a little harsh on her for that comment about his career ... Maybe there hadn't been a mistake at the hospital and maybe Lawrence really was related to his mum ... Maybe not speaking to her for the past 14 years was a little extreme ...

THE RACK by the sink is filled with freshly washed '70s RAK seven-inch singles, and although there is a pint of milk and a vacuum-sealed jar of nuts in the fridge, the only real source of nourishment in this kitchen is knowledge, because all the cupboards are filled with books. The living room has an armchair, a television, a stereo and cardboard boxes filled with old music magazines and the odd bit of fan mail. In the bedroom there's a futon, a swivel-chair and a tape-player. That's it. It's an immaculate, spartan, first-floor flat in a bold blue yuppie block overlooking the Thames by Tower Bridge. Now, who could live in a place like this?

There are two likely candidates: Luke Goss, former drummer with teen sensations Bros, and Lawrence, the most singular, visionary, driven and quietly ridiculed songwriter in contemporary British pop (Jarvis Cocker, Mark E Smith and Morrissey included). Since Luke Goss moved out a couple of months ago, Lawrence (he dropped his surname because it sounded too similar to two other singers: one in a '70s moody rock combo, the other in an '80s pop group; he keeps it a secret ... but it's Hayward) is the only pop star wannabe currently left in the block.

During the '80s Lawrence toiled with Felt, his labour of love, achieving his aim to release ten wildly contrasting albums (from guitar-fed indie angst to spooky jazz instrumentals to melancholic rock) in ten years. When Felt split he made for New York and returned with a new project: Denim. The idea for Denim was to mix his memories of the '70s with modern social comment and set it in a brash electronic '90s pop context. It would sound nothing like Felt, or indeed anything.

Denim's first album, '92's 'Back In Denim', was greeted with critical acclaim (nine out of ten in the NME), vilification (promotional copies were ritually burned by the missionary-position hacks) and commercial indifference. Lawrence, who'd hoped for pop worship after a decade of intense underground reverence, blamed 'Back In Denim's moderate sales on his then parent label London Records' insistence that the album be independently distributed. Now, he admits it may have been a blessing.

"A lot of the ideas I had for that record have since been very successful for others, although if you weren't paying attention it might have not seemed that way," he says wryly, on the edge of his bed. "But having seen what's happened to Jarvis, I may have been on the wrong track thinking I'd like to be famous. I'd like to be in the charts, but I'm not likeable enough to be a pop star. My views just aren't mainstream."

Next, he set about composing an even poppier follow-up called 'Denim On Ice', but last summer, halfway through recording it, his girlfriend called a halt to their four year on/off relationship, causing Lawrence a major crisis.

"I didn't even think of it as a relationship until she ended it, but then I totally changed my mind. It had been trouble recording the album before then, because it'd become really expensive and we were on a budget, but when she left it became double-trouble. I re-wrote a load of the lyrics and had to postpone doing the vocals for months."

What has eventually emerged is a cheesy pop album which sort of fuses Ian Dury with '90s Euro pop, and sounds like nothing you've ever heard, intertwining lyrical themes as diverse as pub rock ('The Great Pub Rock Revival': Lawrence imagines it's him versus the world when the NME endorses a Pub Rock revival next year), oral sex ('Grandad's False Teeth': when Lawrence's girl goes down on him, it's like she's wearing grandad's false teeth — she says the same of him. Walthamstow Kids Choir on one chorus) and junkies ('Glue And Smack': "When I wake in the morning/I greet the day with a smile/I pump stuff into my body/Then I reel around like a child"). When first aired in the NME office, some sat in awed wonder, others tried to throw the stereo from the window.

"I'm not surprised, becaust novelty has never been hip with people who think they're involved in serious music. I love music so much, I've had to form a novelty band because rock'n'roll is dead, It's over. As a serious art form, It's finished. All your heroes have blown it. No-one liked The Beatles during punk because there was so much else, but that's what 15-year-olds are into now. Electronic music has taken over and rock'n'roll will never have that force. Lyrically it will, if only someone out there could write. Why can't I make a record like Kim Wilde's 'Kids In America', but in a hip way?

"But I'm not wasting my time, I'm trying to do something new. Novelty music with a real social and personal comment on top. It hasn't been done before. What I liked about Lou Reed and Bob Dylan were the brilliant lyrics, but after 'Desire' why didn't Dylan use synths instead of saxes and soul backing singers? He wore flares, didn't acknowledge the new wave, and that dated him. It would be easy to do more Felt stuff with traditional instruments, but where's the challenge? Why not let the kids hear something different? But I'm not copying anyone. No-one does what I do. It's lonely out there."

LAST SUMMER, prompted by that girlfriend thing and the problems that recording 'Denim On Ice' provoked, Lawrence started thinking about his folks. He thought about his mum killing the dog, about his dad leaving home and about the fact that he hadn't spoken to his mum for 14 years, or his dad for nearly 20. He was approaching his mid-30s. They could die soon. He wrote his dad a letter.

It was a long, respectful, warm letter that asked why his old man had suddenly stopped talking to Lawrence when he came back from a caravan holiday.

"He wrote back, saying, 'Don't dwell on the past, son, look to the future!' That was it. It was so cold! My sister rang me and said, 'He's so happy you wrote!' I was, like, 'You want to read what he's written!' I went to see my mum and we talked about her washing machine. The emotional things of the past 15 years had been exhausted in 45 minutes. Didn't even mention the dog.

"It just made me realise how utterly alone I am. I feel totally isolated. I don't have a social life because I've got no rapport with anyone. I never bring people back here and get off on records because nobody shares my taste. I just sit here doing ... nothing, thinking.

"But I'm not alone. There's a whole generation of lonely, disaffected people out there and if they need someone to identify with, it's me, because I don't clock off. I don't get changed at seven and go down the pub because I don't even drink. Drinking's what old men do, and I've never wanted to be one. I think you can be a kid forever, gaining wisdom along the way. Life's a good journey, though, it's the one proper journey ..."

Time for the next leg. Lawrence is off to the studio to record a B-side ("It's called 'Wendy James' and it's pro: it's the one that will finish me off for most people") before rehearsals for Denim's Pulp support slot begin. He may feel like pop's Vasco Da Gama endowed with Howard Hughes' social skills, but the next album's already planned ...

It's called 'Denim Take Over'.

#felt #denim #lawrence #new musical express #1996

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