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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

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‘Till We Bleed Out - 1.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 1 of this series.

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real.

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst

You knocked on the large wooden door and took a step back, hands shaking with how nervous you were.

You were quite far from your neighborhood, and none of your friends were in town currently. So really so there was no one who could come pick you up. Plus, the thunderstorm was making things worse. Your car had broken down for no reason while you were heading back home. And you drove down this road often, to get to the other side of the town and you always, always admired this mansion - at the doorstep of which you found yourself at the moment.

The mansion was renowned for its unusualness. It was the largest property around so definitely whoever owns it must be extremely well-off. Another reason why it was so talked about is because no one personally knew the man who owned it. People saw him once in a while, some claimed to have seen him at the library, or at the museum or at the coffee shops. He had no friends apparently, always seen alone. No one knew of his occupation, or how he was able to afford and maintain this large estate.

Most people said he was stand-offish, or mean, or rude or arrogant. Well, whatever he was, you were about to find out in a few seconds given that you were now knocking at his front door. What if he doesn’t agree to help? Or worse, what if he’s a creepy weirdo who-

Your thoughts were cut short as the door flew open. And the man revealed himself. Your gaze locked with his and for a brief moment, it felt like time had stopped. Blue eyes. The bluest you had ever seen. Magnetic, mesmerizing. Strong jaw, broad shoulders - the man was a dream.

I finally found you…

For some reasons those words echoed in your head, and you felt a pressing need to say them out loud. You had to force yourself out of whatever trance you were under and come back to reality.

You cleared your throat. “Hello Mr. Barnes. I apologize for-,”

He cut you off, abruptly. “Come on in.” he spoke with a warm smile and opened the door wider. And you found yourself under his spell just by the sound of his voice, again.

“But Mr. Barnes you didn’t even let me-,” you realized it would be much better if you told him why you were here in the first place, you would hate to impose.

He gave you another smile as he waited for you to enter his home, closing the door behind you. “You’re a long way from home, I figured that the only reason why you would be here at this time is because you need shelter from the terrible weather, or maybe your car broke down.” He gave you a soft look, “So which is it?”

You looked down at your shoes now drenched by the rain, sheepishly answering, “Both actually.” You looked back up at him and finally took all of him in. You had to admit, he was just as they described him; very, very handsome.

Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. He looked like he was crafted by the gods above. His soft sweater gave him a very warm look, but his eyes - icy blue, they reminded you of glaciers and mountain tops, and snowstorms. He was the kind of man one could spend hours looking at. And the more you looked at him, the more details you picked up on. For instance, how perfect his nose was. Or how well he carried himself, or just how mature and wise his facial hair made him look. He was… oddly familiar. Maybe you had seen him at the library or something before.

He must've caught you checking him out judging by the smirk he gave you. You cleared your throat again, looking everywhere else but right at him. “I promise I’ll be gone by morning, Mr. Barnes.”

He took a step forward and you froze in place. “Please, call me Bucky. And you can stay for as long as you need too, there’s no way I’m letting you leave until this terrible storm passes.” And just as he said that, you heard the thunder roar right above you.

“Thank you.” you replied with a shy smile. Normally, whenever you came face to face with men this handsome, you’d turn into a nervous mess. But Bucky had a sense of familiarity with him. Warmth, comfort; you couldn’t explain it. “You have a lovely home.” you commented.

Bucky looked right at you with a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite decipher. Longing? Sadness? Or was it just you who was overthinking? “Thank you.” he stared at you for a few more seconds before rushing over to the coat hangers and grabbed one, holding it open for you. “I’m sorry, it seems I forgot how to be a good host. We don’t get many visitors.”

You happily accepted the coat and turned back around to smile at him. “I think you’re doing perfectly alright.”

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something but another voice beat him to it. “Who is it? I heard someone come in. Is it-,”

The woman with brown hair and a white apron, who suddenly emerged from one of the hallways, stopped talking the moment she saw you. Her lips parted in surprise and you could’ve sworn you heard her gasp. You assumed it was because of the odd time you showed up.

“Oh…” she seemed surprised. “Hello miss...” her eyes searched for Bucky and the moment she found him, her eyes widened again.

Bucky spoke up. “Wanda, this is Y/N. She will be spending the night here. Could you prepare the guestroom for her please?”

The woman, Wanda, smiled brightly and you wondered how she had this much energy at this time of the night. “Of course! Right away.” And with that, she left. Leaving you and Bucky alone again. You turned to face him again.

“That was my housekeeper, Wanda. Her and her husband take care of the house.” He explained, and you nodded.

“She seemed a little surprised upon seeing me. I didn’t mean to disturb your household at such a time, I’m-”

He cut you off again, stepping closer and gently placing his cold hands on your shoulder. You shivered a little and he didn’t seem to notice. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t have to apologize, you didn’t disturb anyone, okay?”

His piercing blue eyes were making it hard for you to focus on what he was saying but you grasped whatever you could and nodded in understanding. “Okay.” You tried hard not to, but you couldn’t help but be all bothered by his simple touch. His very presence screamed power, in a good way. You felt safe.

“Good. Now come on, you could use some rest.” He held your hand in his gently, and led you up the grand stairs. He took your hand in his with such ease almost like he had done so a thousand times before, and you let him.

You took in more and more of the house as you moved upstairs. It was the right mixture between modern and vintage. Parts of the house looked like it belonged in one of the home décor magazines you were currently obsessed with, while others seemed like they were pieces of ancient manors. It was unusually, hauntingly beautiful.

Once you entered the guest room, you felt a wave of emotions hit you right in the face. Like homesickness, but for a place you had never stepped in before until this very moment. Nostalgia, but for a moment back in time which you had never lived in.

The room was absolutely gorgeous. Dark wooden interior, with accents of black and gold. A chandelier which reminded you of an ancient castle, and a bed which seemed fit for royalty. “I must say, you have incredible taste in interior décor.”

Bucky chuckled. “I take it you like the room. Very well then, you’ll find everything you need in the closets and in the bathroom.” He took a step back. “And if you need anything, anything at all, just call out.”

You giggled as he said so. “This place is massive. There’s no way you’re gonna hear me if I call out for you.”

He let out a little laugh. “Trust me doll, I will hear you.” And with that, he left.

You watched him as he closed the door behind him, feeling just a little more warm after that nickname. You let out a sigh of satisfaction. Well, you were weirdly comfortable here. You walked further into the room, taking in every little detail. You took off the coat Bucky gave you earlier and placed it down on one of the couches. Taking off your heels, you made your way to the bathroom and it was everything one can dream of.

You searched the cabinets and closets and found sweatpants and t-shirts which would fit you. Grabbing a set of clothes, you hopped into the shower and forgot about your broken down car and the thunderstorm. Instead, you thought of Bucky. What a peculiar man he is; no one in the town knows where he comes from, or what he does but here you were seeking help from him, showering his bathroom.

There was something about him, a sense of ease and warmth which many people lack when you first meet them. But Bucky was different. It almost felt like you’ve known him all your life.

When you stepped out, all refreshed and dressed you sensed a change the moment you walked back into the bedroom. Someone was here.

“I brought you some tea. To warm you up a little.”

You turned around and found Bucky sat on one of the couches by the bed. You instantly smiled, instead of being startled. He was so easy to be around.

You walked towards him. You picked up one of the cups from the coffee table and brought it up to your nose, softly blowing on it before inhaling the lovely scent.

“It’s chamomile and lavender.” Bucky said, and you faced him with a big smile.

“My favorite, thank you.” you smiled at the odd coincidence as you took a sip of the tea. It soothed you immediately.

Bucky picked up his own cup and took a slow sip as he watched you intently. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. Which then reminded you that you never actually told him your name. Or maybe you did and you forgot.

You held your warm cup with both hands and began. You told him your name, where you’re from, where you work and a little bit about your family. You knew you shouldn’t be giving this much detail about your life to a stranger but you were currently drinking tea in his guest room wearing clothes he provided, so the least you could do is engage fully in the conversation.

He did a little nod after each piece of information you fed him, and you found it adorable.

“It’s your turn.” you spoke after you were done talking about yourself.

He smiled. It was a sad smile, or so it seemed. Surely you were overthinking. “I’m quite a boring person to be honest. I work all day, and I work all night. My family is… not around so I have to handle everything. All their businesses and companies around the country.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely here? I mean it’s a magnificent home but, to live here alone must be quite hard, no?”

You didn’t mean to pry but the way he looked straight into your eyes made you want to know the man a little better. Why was he so calm and collected? How is he so okay with you just being in his home? Why is he so kind? He didn’t seem old, then why did he give off the vibes of being so mature and wise, like he’s lived lifetimes before this one?

“Memories can be great company.” He answered in a tone which gave away that the man had lost a lot. Perhaps a close family member? Or a friend or a spouse? He added, “And this house is full of it.”

“You grew up here?” you couldn’t help but ask.

He gave you that same look; sad, longing like he was desperately trying to show certain emotion but he couldn’t.

“I moved here. With my wife.” Those words of his caused your heart to feel heavy. “But she passed, a long time ago.” The look on his face made your heart burn for some reasons. The need to comfort him took over you but you refrained from doing so, it wasn’t your place to.

“You must’ve loved her a lot.” You didn’t ask, you stated. Because it showed.

He had that same sad smile on his face. “She was my everything. My lifeline.”

He sounded so broken, it hurt. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He smiled again. “You know, I like to think that the things we lose end up coming back to us, eventually. One way or another.”

That didn’t really make sense to you right away, but it was a beautiful thought nonetheless. “That’s beautiful.”

He stared into your eyes again, and it seemed like he was fighting something back. The need to say something perhaps. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.” And just as he said that, the thunder roared again, as loud as it could.

You stood up as he did. He said goodnight and left. And you were left standing there wondering what the hell happened in the past few minutes. His presence alone made you feel safe for some reasons. Knowing that he was just a few doors down the hallway made you less anxious. Even when you settled under the covers, it didn’t feel like a foreign bed.

You wondered why. How could you have settled into an unfamiliar home so easily? It wasn’t weird, just surprising.

With the help of the tea, you drifted off to sleep in no time. Dreaming about ballrooms, and kissing a man inside a beautiful mansion and… and a pair of ocean blue eyes…

A flutter on your cheek, and you looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking down at you. “Hello sweetheart. You ready?” the man said as he offered you a red rose.

You nodded, despite his face being quite blurry. You felt his arms around you, and you felt safe; like nothing could go wrong and this was a perfect world. You felt his lips place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Your surroundings changed and now you were at a ball, wearing a lovely rose gold gown, arms linked with the tall man. The music was unfamiliar but lovely. He twirled you around and pulled you close, your one hand carefully placed in his and the other on his shoulder. You noticed the shiny ring on your ring finger, and the wedding band on his. You smiled, realizing that this was your husband and all was well.

Your surroundings faded again. Now you were inside your home. A beautiful home, with the fireplace warming the room you were in. Your blue-eyed husband was beside you again, the two of you sat by the fireplace and he offered you a glass of wine. You smiled, taking it from him. You felt a slight discomfort inside your mouth, around your front teeth but that was alright, it seemed like you were used to it. You brought the wine glass up to your lips, letting some of the contents into your mouth. It wasn’t wine, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

Euphoria, you felt utter euphoria as you stared into the same pair of eyes only this time they were so red, they seemed black. He reached out and held your face in place and tilted his head just a little; deepening the kiss. He nibbled on your lower lip and shoved his tongue past your lips. Your body tingled in his arms. It all felt so right and perfect, it felt like a dream. Like a dream inside a dream.

Gentle sin, that’s what it felt like when he pulled you closer, his hand slipping under your night dress and resting on your thigh while his other hand cupped your cheek. Your hands slid into his hair naturally and he moaned into the kiss again when you tugged at his roots a little. He kissed down your neck, his arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your body against his. He nibbled on the skin at the side of your throat, his teeth sharp and you were sure he left marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind.

You gasped and moaned. This felt right. He pulled away after a while. He looked down at you with pink, swollen, parted lips. Slightly breathless, and his eyes showed nothing but love and passion, and a hunger like you had never seen before, but it was all familiar. His face was unclear, but you could make out certain features of his and he was oddly familiar too.

“I love you.” He mumbled.

You knew that voice…

“I love you so much.” He whispered against your lips, his hand slipping in between your legs with no shame; his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He smiled against your lips upon feeling just how aroused you were, before he pulled away and kissed down your body. He took your sensitive nipples in his mouth.

He sucked on the soft skin as his teeth applied just the slightest bit of pressure upon the bud. His warm tongue swirling around your nipple had you throwing your head back in pleasure.

Your eyes closed as you relished his touch. You felt him kiss his way down your body; from your lips all the way down to your hip bones; his lips soft and gentle on your skin.

He placed his hands on either one of your thighs and slowly spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without any hesitation. You moaned out loud as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly.

Obscene, wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful. He had dark hair you noticed. The room was getting darker and darker as well. You could see your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the large bed.

Your body arched off the bed for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you when his tongue slowly circled around your sensitive clit. The pressure between your legs was building up nicely.

With a few more strokes of his tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face without any warning. He licked you clean, then kissed his way up your body again. “You’re all mine, Y/N.” he whispered softly against your lips as he settled in between your legs again. You shuddered under him and whined against his mouth, the feeling reminding you a lot of how you shivered earlier when a pair of cold hands held you gently by the shoulder.

Your body felt tingly as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head to look at you and you gasped quietly in surprise. It was Bucky. Although he still had dark eyes, and sharp canines?

He didn’t give you time to think too much. You moaned out loud once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to relax your tense body. You wrapped around him perfectly. You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, kissing you deeply while he rolled his hips against yours.

His body felt cold. But it also felt familiar. Being so close to him felt right.

You whimpered as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you slightly harder. He groaned right in your ear as you felt your walls wrap around him, squeezing and clenching. This felt right.

Panting and swearing under his breath, he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He kissed your face; all over. You felt a little bold so you hooked your legs around his waist as his thrusts got rougher than the last. You were a moaning mess under him as your hands gripped his arms and shoulder. Your body moved against his like a rag doll. You knew, in your dream that you belonged to him, and him you.

“I love you.” he whispered. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. If anything, you wanted more. You needed him closer. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. He growled and bit down on your shoulder as he fucked you. He was relentless, and you liked it.

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear, groaning as you tried to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He slammed into you, his hands travelling all over your body, until one of them wrapped around your throat. Your eyes watered as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt the pressure forming again. You felt him everywhere, each nerve ending burning and tingling.

You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up. A sweet, familiar pain formed again, and you came without any warning; gushing out all over him as he kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm.

“Bucky... ” you sounded breathless.

He gasped and snuggled closer to you. His eyes were back to the gentle blue again. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here. I love you, Y/N.”

You wanted to say it back. But then you woke up to a loud boom. You sat up gasping, and looking around frantically. You were sweating, but also cold. The room was dark, unlike the one in your dream earlier, which was illuminated by candlelight. It took you a little while to reorient yourself. The storm was somehow getting more and more loud and violent outside.

And you just had a weird dream about Bucky. Which didn’t feel like a dream, but more like a memory. A memory buried so deep that it almost didn’t feel real.

You were confused. What is the meaning of all this?

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a/n: hi

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #vampire!bucky #marvel au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

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Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 4

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 4

1997 (One year later)

The convention center had been beautiful under the blue Minnesota sky when Liam had arrived, and it was still beautiful now with its windows backed by heavy showers of falling snow that threw diffuse, moving light onto the walls inside the conference room. Beautiful and alarming.

Liam’s university was located in Florida. Florida was quite nice in January, and besides, there were theme parks. Didn’t people always like theme parks? But instead, the conference was being held in Minnesota, and this was the final day. In an hour, Liam and his colleagues, other faculty of the history department, were supposed to start the twenty-some-hour drive home.

“Could have been at Disney World,” Kurt remarked, startling Liam. Liam had been too busy watching the storm to realize Kurt had come up beside him.

“What on earth?” Liam asked, quite rightfully surprised, not by Kurt’s sudden unexpected presence, as he was used to that by now, but because Kurt was not a history professor, and therefore didn’t have a reason to be at the conference.

“Thought I’d drop in,” Kurt said. “See how things were going. Anyone interested in your research on Tollense?”

“Everyone. It’s very exciting.” Liam kept his voice low. “Am I talking to myself, or can everyone else see you?”

Kurt smiled at him. “I wouldn’t give you that kind of reputation. I’m visible.” Liam could see it was true, as Kurt’s good looks were attracting a few appreciative glances. “Are you ready to come home?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, we’re due to head out soon. Not that we’re really looking forward to it.”

“Well, your co-workers can head out whenever they like. I’m taking you home.”

“What?”

Kurt looked surprised by Liam’s surprise. “You’re from Florida. You have no idea what to do with snow. They’re pulling locals off the roads, Liam. I'm not letting you drive in this weather.”

“But you don’t even know how to dr— wait.” Liam felt a bit of a shiver crawl up his spine. “Oh, no. I’m not teleporting home.”

“I’ve been doing it for thousands of years. With humans. You know that. It’s perfectly safe.”

“No.”

Now a bit of hurt flashed over Kurt’s features, and like all his dark expressions, it was vaguely unsettling. “You don’t trust me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to teleport.”

“Why on earth not?”

Liam hated to lie to Kurt. Partly, it was because Liam was not entirely sure that Kurt couldn’t somehow tell that he was lying. Kurt claimed that he couldn’t read minds, but he was a vampire who could teleport himself from Florida to Minnesota, and Liam would not have been at all surprised to find that Kurt was aware of the snowstorm confronting Liam without having checked the weather.

But it was also true that Kurt was Liam’s best friend and it seemed wrong to lie to him. Except Liam couldn’t tell him the truth about this, because that wasn’t going to help anyone. It was better if Kurt didn’t know that Liam was in love with him, that for over a year now, Liam had been obsessed with the memory of Kurt kissing him, slow and sweet, and that the last thing Liam needed now was for Kurt to pull him close and show off his impressive supernatural abilities in a rescue. Kurt had made it clear that he never allowed himself to fall in love with humans that he met, and Liam had to be protective of his heart, already cracked and in danger of breaking.

“Look, if you are so dead-set on it, you can use your mind-control powers to convince me,” Liam joked, and immediately realized that was worse than lying, because Kurt flinched.

“If I do that,” Kurt said, in what sounded like a carefully controlled voice, “I will lose you anyway.”

“Wh— you’re not going to lose me. I’ll get a hotel, then. Drive home later.”

“I don’t want you driving to a hotel!” Kurt looked exasperated. “Liam, you are the most adventurous person I know. Why not this?”

“Oh, I’m hardly—”

“Yes, you are. You’re like an explorer, always hungry for something new and unusual. You’re brave, and not terribly cautious, which is bad for your driving habits, but it’s perfectly safe when it comes to me, because I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

Kurt had stepped close, and Liam could tell how upset Kurt was because Kurt was losing his grip on the human appearance and mannerisms he tried to put on. Right now he looked sleek and strong and shadowy. He didn’t reach for Liam with his hands, but Liam could feel something surrounding him, like a faint cool mist. It felt oddly familiar, and Liam got the impression that the mist might actually always be there, a piece of Kurt holding onto him, and Liam had just never been consciously aware of it before.

And then everything suddenly snapped back into place: Kurt looked ordinary again, and Liam realized with a shock that a couple of his colleagues had approached them.

“What do you think?” asked one of them. “We’re talking about getting a hotel.”

“I have a ride home,” Liam said faintly. Everyone looked at him in surprise, including Kurt. Few of Liam’s fellow faculty had met Kurt, partly by Kurt’s design, because he wasn’t terribly social, and partly by Liam’s. Liam was aware that his very close friendship with a very handsome man was likely to give him a certain other reputation, one that was quite deserved (though sadly not much practiced), but not very wise in the current political climate.

Nothing for it now. “Chris Mullens, Doris Sullivan, this is my friend Kurt, ah, Smith. He was in town for something else and is heading back to Florida today. He offered me a ride.”

“Is it safe?” Doris asked, looking concerned.

“Kurt’s a very good driver. Got a— a car like a tank.”

Doris laid a hand on Liam’s shoulder, and to Liam’s surprise, Kurt seemed to bristle at that, almost literally, and the whole room seemed to go with him, the air around them feeling oddly sharp. Liam understood that Kurt was concerned that he’d change his mind and be convinced to travel with his colleagues, but it undoubtedly looked like something else from the outside— a sort of possessiveness.

“What a nice friend,” Chris said lightly, looking at Kurt in a way that Liam did not like at all, as if Kurt was not a person but a problem, not a good-looking man but a tempting trap. Liam’s personal belief was that men who were so vehemently opposed to homosexuality were probably terrified that they themselves might be vulnerable to such a “trap,” but it was better if that went unsaid.

Kurt rescued him, of course. “Yes, Liam and I have been friends for a while. I used to date one of his students, Martina.”

Chris’s face cleared a bit, losing some of its distaste. He had apparently not heard of bisexuality, or whatever word might describe Kurt. “Oh. Sure.”

“Ready to go?” Kurt asked Liam. He barely waited for an answer before steering Liam out of the room. They walked down an empty hallway where the storm winds were pushing hard enough to make the windows shift in their frames. Kurt spoke in a gentle voice. “Give it a few years. The world is becoming more tolerant again. Humans keep discovering their natures over and over.”

“This must all be very trite to you.”

“Not in the least.” Kurt’s eyes were sharp on him. “Do you think Chris is the one sending you those threatening letters?”

Liam scoffed. “He barely knows how to tie his shoes. Worse than even the typical history professor.”

Kurt looked unconvinced. “I’ll keep an eye on him all the same.” He held out a hand to Liam. “Let’s go home.”

Liam looked down at Kurt’s hand. A pale blue vein ran delicately along his wrist, and Liam wondered what flowed there, if anything. “What about my luggage?”

“I already picked it up from Dr. Sullivan’s car. It’s at your place.”

“You’re awfully confident that I’d say yes to this.”

Kurt sighed, exasperated. “I can’t believe you haven’t asked me sooner. I thought I’d be taking you to the Louvre every weekend. Or Rome. At least Antietam.”

Liam laughed. “I should have.”

Kurt smiled, looking at ease for the first time since he’d arrived. “You should.”

“Next weekend then.” Liam finally took Kurt’s hand, and their fingers fit together easily. As always, Kurt was slightly cool to the touch.

The convention center faded away into a sort of bland white light. Liam felt like he was floating, but still with his feet planted on the ground. He looked down and found his own office floor beneath his shoes.

“Stay still a moment,” Kurt warned. “People can get dizzy when they’re not used to it.” He dropped Liam’s grasp and put a steadying hand on his arm instead. And now was the moment Liam had dreaded: Kurt was so close, so strong, and so hauntingly strange.

“We must seem so very fragile to you,” Liam said.

“You are fragile.” There was a harsh coldness in Kurt’s voice.

“So how did you learn to do that? To teleport?”

Kurt shrugged. “Just always could.”

“Always?” Liam frowned. “I thought a vampire’s abilities were based on age.”

“They are.”

“But if you’ve been doing it as long as you can remember— since at least Tollense— doesn’t it follow then that your origins would have to be a great deal older than that?”

Kurt narrowed his eyes, considering.

“Or else,” Liam said, “maybe you’re not a vampire.”

“I drink blood.”

“A lot of creatures— uh, beings— are said to drink blood. I’m sorry, it must be so frustrating not to be able to remember.”

Kurt looked at him with a sort of gratitude, but then he turned away, toward the door. A second later, there was a knock, and Kurt finally let go of Liam’s arm.

It was one of Liam’s graduate students at the door, Jonah. “Hey,” he said. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just have a couple of questions. I thought I heard you talking. Do you have company?”

Most of the students never met Kurt either, despite the fact that he was around quite a bit. Liam had learned by now that Kurt only appeared to those students he thought he might start a relationship with. Kurt had been alone since Martina had graduated, and Liam assumed it would only be a matter of time before he picked another student, someone to provide him with blood and share his bed. In between lovers, Kurt drank blood from animals, but he had told Liam that it was much better to have a human source. Kurt chose those people whom he thought would be open to the idea of a finite relationship with a vampire, those who wouldn’t be afraid of him but also wouldn’t want to stay with him indefinitely. Because Kurt never got attached.

“Let’s find out,” Liam said, and opened the door wider. His heart sank immediately when he saw that Jonah could see Kurt standing by the desk. Liam thought back for a moment to Kurt’s reaction when Doris put her hand on Liam’s arm. But Kurt wouldn’t get jealous, of course.

Liam definitely was.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

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My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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curiousconch · 3 years

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Rose-colored Glass

Chapter 11 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: As winter began its rein in Boston, Heather finds a way to cope with her trauma, discovering the truth while remembering her past.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.8k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / emotional trauma, death

Author's Notes: This week has been hard for me, and writing this chapter was unimaginably difficult because of it. Thankfully, like Heather, I found a way to cope, and people to help me get through with it. So instead of moping around, I finished this, inspired by the hauntingly beautiful classic song La Vie En Rose (I listened to this particular version on repeat). So, this is for you Nina, rest well in heaven.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. I also do not claim ownership over the lyrics of La Vie en Rose embedded in this chapter.

Heather's discharge went smoothly, contrary to the time she spent in recovery. Her friends needed to stay behind to complete their shifts, and although Kyra offered to take her home, she refused. She needed to do something first. Heather did agree to let her bring her things back to the apartment, with one exception.

Her slimmed fingers tightly gripped on the straps of the small bag she was carrying. The sunglasses she brought along tucked on the collar of her salmon sweater, not needing it anymore due to the cluster of clouds that blocked out the sun. Although it was almost noon, the chilly weather provided some semblance of shade as the heels of her boots thumped softly against the soft white snow-covered ground.

Her gray coat was sprinkled small flakes of snow, as she navigated herself easily amongst the unmarked path, that if a spectator observed, they would readily know that she visited this place often.

Heather's steps halted as she neared a willow tree, standing in front of a moss-colored headstone, aged by the almost seven years of Boston rain.

Despite the gloom of her surroundings, Heather's lips curled into a smile, as she kneeled down to gently place the bouquet of pink roses she bought along the way.

"Hi mom," she said, as the tips of her fingers skimmed the name carved in stone. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit again. Things have been a little rough."

She went still for a moment, relishing the poignant silence in remembrance.

More than her ambition of being trained by America's top diagnostician, this was the reason why she chose Edenbrook. To be near her, to be in her mother's home city, it somehow filled the emptiness of missing her so much. To walk on the same pavements, to spend time in the same parks and places she's been to brought Heather nothing but the strength and determination to make something out of her once miserable life. Whenever she doubted herself, or when she was about to give up, the thought of her mom fighting a sickness no one should endure, gave Heather the much needed relief and energy to get back up again.

And that's the reason she stood there that cold winter morning. She needed her mom to come through her once again.

Heather closed her eyes momentarily, letting the rush of the nauseating trauma of the past few weeks resurface. Her whole being has run out dry, weakening her knees. She just felt so numb inside.

So without inhibitions, she recalled the recent events that turned her life upside down. She told about the threats over her life, and how close she was to her own death. She spoke about Raf and their recent fallout, how heartbreaking it was but relieving at the same time. She brought up Bryce last.

"This man, mom... I can't even begin to explain how I feel about him," Heather said as she rubbed a hand over her temple. "There's something about him that I just couldn't describe. It's been there since I've first met him, and it's still here until now..."

Her head dropped low in between her shoulders, as she remembered with fondness the emotions that Bryce stirred within her the first time they met, leading up to their frustrating confrontation. Heather irked as the thought of her failure came.

"But somehow, I messed it up. I picked someone else, because I was too afraid..." she revealed. She knew what she felt around him, but did her best to bury it. "Although I often wondered of what we could be, or what we could have been, the deep-seated fears of heartbreak, of what you and dad went through... I just couldn't act on it." she admitted.

"Yet when I was faced with the choice between life or death, all I had was his words, no one else's," she paused, recalling how she soldiered on towards her own escape, empowered by the same declaration during their day out in the trampolines.

"But now I'm afraid I'm too late, mom. I may have missed out on something great... Your daughter is a coward," she bit her lip, her eyes glistening. "Am I really too late?"

The question felt like a cliffhanger, never to be answered.

Sighing deeply, she collected her remaining energy to unzip the small bag she brought with her. She wrapped her hands around the neck of the instrument, pulling out a mahogany-stained ukelele. It was the last gift that she received from her mom, the very same she used to play her songs during their rare downtime.

She tucked its body between her arm and chest, as she tightened its strings with the tuners. With one satisfied strum, she began to sing the song that she and her mom always sang during the roughest period of their lives.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs,

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

In a rush, those simple words tingled her sensations in reminiscence from flashes of her adolescence - the late night talks, the bonding over ramen noodles, her alcoholic initiation by soju, those times that they saw a movie together, the smell of pancakes and eggs in the morning.

In the few short years they were given, Heather treasured each memory more than anything in her life. Even the tragedy of watching her mom deteriorate because of her sickness, of those last months spent in a cramped hospital ward, she wouldn't trade it even for a pot of gold. Though in pain, her mother would whisper promises that she'll always be there for her, no matter what. Until her last breath, she held her daughter's hand. Those were priceless, shared souvenirs of a life well-lived. Of a life Heather hoped she could lead.

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart, a world where roses bloom

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

Within those short verses contained the life lesson her mom taught her over and over again - to see life through rose colored glasses. Singing it reminded her that even if she was long gone, the memory of her will be embedded within, whispering that no matter what, there's a reason to continue living.

Smiling through her tears, her head tilted up to the heavens, praying that the divine could carry her thanks to her mom. For once again, in the most difficult time of her life, she did follow through.

As a sense of peace weaved itself through her, she opened her eyes and felt the clouds dissipate. With it were the frayed edges of the shadows of fear, regret and anger. And although she knew that it will still haunt her, she was content that healing has at least begun.

After a few more moments of silence, she placed the ukelele back into the bag and glanced endearingly upon the headstone. She skimmed her fingers over her mother's name, vowing to come back soon.

She swiveled herself to the opposite direction and began the path back to the cemetery gates, when her hazel orbs fell upon a pair of familiar leather shoes and gray slacks, making her stop in her tracks.

When she titled her head to see the face she expected to see, a pair of amber eyes met hers that made her breath hitch. They were filled with warmth and affection that heated the cold air and melted her inside.

"You're not too late," Bryce finally said, breaking into the quiet. His mouth formed a lopsided smile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black coat which edges reached to his knees.

"Seems like it," Heather replied, snapping out of the daze that suddenly came over her, lips curving. "Wait, you heard everything?"

Bryce couldn't stifle a chuckle as he nodded, the adrenaline that rushed through him earlier as he tried to track her down slowly draining from him. A new and overwhelming feeling took its place as he planted the soles of his shoes on the soft snow, bridging the gap between them.

Once he was near enough, he gently wrapped an arm around Heather's waist, pulling her close. The knuckles of his other hand brushed her jawline until his thumb grazed her chin. His gaze lingered down on hers, completely magnetized by the depths of the windows of her soul, begging for her consent.

Heather's palms settled onto the nape of his neck, her lips parting to grant him permission.

In a heartbeat, Bryce tenderly pressed his lips upon hers, releasing the long-running yearning they buried so well. Unspoken words no longer need to be said aloud, clarity dawning in them both as their mouths crashed. Soft moans escaped from them as they deepened their passionate kiss, unrestrained in expressing their newfound freedom.

When at last they stopped to catch their breaths, Bryce leaned his forehead on hers, understanding that his unrequited love was never unanswered, only delayed. That after a year of pining, here she was, standing in front of him, a realization of a dream that for so many times he willed to come true. After all the nights of hoping and hurting, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight of her in his arms. A thought poked into his mind as he started to recall where they were.

"Well this is awkward..." the young lawyer muttered, with a sudden shift in his voice.

"Hm?" Heather's eyes snapped open, dumbfounded.

"I know I always wanted to kiss you," he grinned as he paused, before continuing, "but never in a million years did I think that the first time I did is in front of your mom."

At first her brows furrowed, but seeing Bryce's mischievous expression, Heather couldn't keep herself from laughing.

Inspired by the music of her genuine laughter, Bryce joined in. The sound of their giggles echoing through the poignant space around them.

Heather can't remember the last time when she laughed this hard. There were so many things that hung over her head that she almost forgot how to do it. But with Bryce, it came so easily. A sense of joy began to bloom in her, and when she saw the same glint in his eyes, she knew he felt exactly the same.

With their fingers intertwined and arms around each other's, they walked the path that only earlier they trudged separately. And now with their hearts finally out in the open, their tracks carved into the thin sheet of snow, unveiling the lush greens of the grass hidden beneath, eager to leaving what's behind, together.

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #bryce lahela #open heart 2 #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #bryce x mc

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 5 years

Text

Non-Sequential [Ch. 22]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 2,600

Chapter 21

Y/N was still crying when she got back. Or at least she assumed she had returned to her present. But there was never really knowing until she got her bearings. Except she wasn’t just crying. She was sobbing. Her entire body shook with emotion as the tears fell and fell and fell.

She couldn’t even figure out where she was because her vision was so blurry with the tears that wouldn’t stop. It took her a few minutes to get ahold of herself. She forced a few deep breaths to try and calm down.

It was dark and the grass was cool beneath her feet. She looked up at the moon as she rubbed snot from her nose with the back of her hand.

There was only one place in the world where the moon looked that bright.

So, she was back in Wakanda. That was good at least.

What else could she recognize?

Y/N turned around in a circle, taking in her surroundings. Then she squinted and realized she knew exactly what was in the distance.

Her feet started forward without any command from her mind.

Next think Y/N knew, she was standing in front of Bucky’s hut.

Her fist was shaking as she knocked on the wood door. The raps were sporadic and different volumes. She heard shuffling immediately from the other side.

“Y/N?” Bucky gasped as he opened the door.

“B-Bucky,” she thought she whispered it, but it came out as a whimper.

Despite her being as naked as the day she was born, Bucky was only staring in horror as Y/N’s bloodshot eyes began crying again.

“You’re OK,” she whimpered. But it was clear she was trying to convince herself.

Seeing her cry threw Bucky into action. It was literally painful for him to see. He pulled her to his chest. And for the first time since losing his prosthetic, he wished he had two arms so he could hold her closer, tighter, keep her safer.

Her sobbing continued and Bucky just held on until she could catch her breath and settle down. Eventually it quieted down and slowed.

He pulled away ever so slightly, only so he could actually look at her face.

Bucky had been so terrified by her sobbing that he hadn’t noticed her split lip.

He gripped her chin softly. But the look in his eyes was stern and dark. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

The questions only drew a new layer of tears across Y/N’s eyes.

His eyes then searched for other obvious injuries. It wasn’t degrading for her naked body, for he was like a doctor looking across his patient. He let out a breath when she didn’t seem to be injured elsewhere.

“Come on,” Bucky sighed, realizing she didn’t need to be interrogated right now. “I’ll get you some clothes and make you some tea.”

Y/N seemed to snap out of it then, finally realizing that she had just swarmed Bucky’s home sobbing and fully naked.

Her cheeks blushed in humiliation. “I-I’m so sorry.” Then she stepped away and moved her arms to try and give herself some decency.

“You got nothing to be sorry for, kid.” Bucky only looked at her eyes as he replied. Her nudity didn’t make him bashful like it once made Steve.

He walked past her to shut the door and Y/N quickly scurried to find the nearest blanket to wrap herself in.

In just a few minutes, Bucky gave her some of his more American-styled clothes to Y/N: a matching black pair of sweatpants and hoodie. Shuri had insisted on giving him some to make him feel more at home.

Y/N was sitting in one of the chairs at Bucky’s dinner table, hands wrapped tightly around a hot mug of tea as if it was a lifeline.

Bucky had been silently watching her for awhile now, unsure of how to begin the conversation. He was worried and, quite frankly, a little scared. Scared something happened to her, scared it was something he did that he couldn’t remember. But if that were true, why had she run into his arms so desperately?

“Do you…” Y/N’s voice cracked and she stopped immediately. She took a deep breath and then sipped some tea, ignoring the burn from it being too hot. “Do you remember falling from the train?”

Bucky gave her a dark smirk. “Kind of hard to forget. Wish I could.”

But Y/N shook her head. “No, not falling. After you fell. Do you remember when you finally…hit the ground?” There wasn’t an easier way to describe it.

Bucky’s brow furrowed and his eyes stared into the distance.

From his expression alone, Y/N realized that he didn’t remember.

“No. I don’t–I don’t think I do. There’s been flashes before. Snow. Being dragged through it. But…No, I don’t remember.” He almost sounded disappointed in himself.

Y/N just nodded slowly, avoided his gaze, and took another sip of tea.

“Y/N,” his voice so gentle and worried that she had no choice but to respond to it by looking up at him. “Are you OK?”

Her eyes flickered back down to the bottom of her mug. “I just killed someone.”

Bucky’s breathing stopped.

“When I traveled…I was with you, Bucky. Right after you hit the ground. Your blood…it was everywhere. Hydra got there right after I did. I tried to – I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. But I tried to stop them from taking you. I took your gun and I…I shot one of them.”

It all happened so fast. One second Y/N was crying and shaking again, and then next Bucky had her in his lap. Her face buried in his neck as he rubbed her back and gave her words of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so damn sorry,” he kept muttering that to her.

It took her a bit to realize that the way he was saying it made it clear that he was taking full responsibility for what happened to her. Because Bucky knew she killed someone trying to protect him. She got a split lip defending him from his inevitable captors.

“Then I showed up back here, not far from your hut. I just needed to know that you were OK. My mind – I don’t know – it was convinced you were still hurt. Still a prisoner.”

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He pulled her face back to look at him. “I’m alright. OK?”

She nodded, wiping her tears away.

“I’m just worried about you,” Bucky muttered.

“Can I stay here tonight?” She whispered after a few moments. “I just don’t want to go back to that empty room at the palace, all alone.”

“Of course.” But the truth was that Bucky had already decided she wasn’t getting out of his sight until he was convinced she wasn’t going to have another breakdown.

“How about I make you something to eat?” He offered.

Y/N shook her head. “I’m not hungry. And I’m pretty sure I’ll throw up if I try to eat anything.”

Bucky accepted that, being all too familiar with the feeling.

The small and cozy hut filled with silence.

“Can we just…can we do something normal?” Y/N finally asked. “Maybe watch a movie or something?”

He sighed and gave her a soft smirk. “Of course.”

They moved from the dinner table to the small little alcove that could be considered Bucky’s living room. He sat down first and was surprised when Y/N immediately curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest and draping her right arm across his torso.

“What should we watch?” He asked her, trying to slow the beating of his heart. It wasn’t all that hard. He’d been trained to do such things long ago.

“Whatever you want,” she murmured tiredly. It really didn’t matter. She could already feel the exhaustion from time traveling starting to consume her. Once her mind could finally process that Bucky was fine, that he wasn’t still bleeding out in that dreadful snow, her body allowed itself to rest.

Bucky put on It Happened One Night. 30 minutes in, he was just about to tell Y/N how he and Steve used to watch the movie whenever it was in the drive-in theater on the outskirts of Brooklyn. But when he looked down, he found Y/N already fast a sleep against him.

It felt good, her body pressed up against him – so warm and yet so vulnerable. She trusted Bucky, felt safe in his grasp. It was the first time since before the war that Bucky felt like he could protect someone instead of hurt them.

But then the guilt found its way in. She shouldn’t be with him like this. No, she should be in Steve’s arms. She belonged to him, not Bucky. Yes, she was a person, not a thing. But Steve belonged to her just as much as she belonged to him. So, where did that leave Bucky?

Bucky let himself sit like that for the rest of the movie. Maybe it wasn’t as inappropriate as he thought. Or maybe he was just being utterly selfish.

When the end credits started rolling, Bucky realized he couldn’t carry Y/N’s sleeping form to his bed. Not with only one arm. That was the thing about being around Y/N. Bucky realized that his prosthetic could’ve been used for more than just harm.

“Y/N,” he whispered to her softly, trying to rouse her from her sleep without completely startling her.

“Hmm?” She mumbled back without opening her eyes.

“You don’t want to sleep on this couch. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Mhmm.”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. “OK. Come on, kid.”

She stood up like a zombie, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and letting Bucky guide her to the bed on the other side of the hut.

Y/N crawled into the bed without hesitation and it seemed like she had fallen right back to sleep. Bucky pulled up the covers around her shoulders and switched the lamp off.

But when she heard Bucky’s steps start retreating, her eyes opened.

“Where are you going to sleep?” She mumbled sleepily.

“On the couch.”

“If I’m not allowed to sleep on the couch, neither are you.” She told him rather firmly for having just been asleep.

Bucky’s hesitation was obvious.

“Please? I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.” She tried to tease.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize that’s what I had to worry about.” “Then what are you worried about?” She challenged.

“Y/N, Steve – I…”

“It’s just sleep, Bucky.”

But was that really just all it was?

Y/N didn’t have the courage to confess that she didn’t want to let Bucky out of her sight just yet.

Bucky didn’t have any more self-control. Slowly he slipped under the covers on the opposite side of the bed, trying to stay as far away from her as possible.

Y/N rolled on her side to face him. Her eyes went from studying his face, down his neck, and across his shoulder, until they landed on the stump where his left arm once was. It was covered by the short sleeve of a t-shirt now, but Y/N still stared at it.

“Does it ever hurt still?” Y/N whispered.

Bucky thought about lying in attempt to ease her worry. But something about the intimacy that was being shared between them stopped him.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Why won’t you let Shuri make you a new arm?”

Y/N had wondered about it for quite some time, but never felt like it was appropriate to ask him.

“Didn’t think I deserved it.” Then he took a deep breath. “But mostly…I thought I was less dangerous without it.”

Y/N’s face squeezed in sadness from what he said.

“Shuri promises those words our out of my head. We’ve tested it about a hundred times – mostly just to prove it to me. But sometimes I still feel like I can turn back into…him…at any moment.”

To both of their surprise, Y/N reached across the bed and cupped Bucky’s cheek.

“You escaped them, Bucky. Don’t let them keep having control over your life, even after you’re free.”

He barely nodded. “I will if you promise to do the same.”

Y/N held her breath.

Maybe that’s why there was something between her and Bucky that seemed to be impossible to find between her and Steve. The two of them both survived. After being beaten and tortured and manipulated by Hydra, they both survived. Steve had seen a lot in his lifetime, but he had never been broken to a point of preferring death over life.

“I promise,” Y/N hardly even whispered.

———————————————

Y/N woke up surprised to find an empty bed. But Bucky wasn’t hard to find, sitting in the kitchen on the other side of the hut. His eyes were glazed over, staring into the distance. His mind was racing through thoughts and images Y/N could not see but could sense their presence.

There was a mug of coffee steaming in front of him.

Y/N wondered how many cups he’d already had while she still slept.

“You’re up early…” Y/N practically croaked from using her voice for the first time after sleeping.

Bucky blinked and returned to the present, eyes shooting over to her still laying in his bed.

“Didn’t sleep much,” he answered with an embarrassed smirk and shrug.

She squinted at him. “Is ‘didn’t sleep much’ code for you didn’t sleep at all?”

Bucky just cleared his throat, not wanting to start the morning off by lying to her.

Y/N let it slide.

In truth, Bucky had watched over her all night. He was scared she’d travel again in her sleep or that she’d sneak back to the palace while he slept. Meanwhile, he ransacked his own brain trying to remember the moments after he fell from that train. He gave himself a migraine from the strain of it all.

Y/N tiptoed over to the table and Bucky immediately shot up to make her a cup of coffee as well.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she took it from his grasp.

His eyes stared at the her split lip. It somehow looked worse as it started its healing process. “Maybe I could teach you some self-defense, kid.”

She blinked at him.

“Has Steve ever shown you?” He asked.

She blinked again. “Only a little bit. Nat too.”

He nodded. Then he watched her take a sip of coffee.

“I…” he took a deep breath. “I think I remember you being there.”

Y/N froze.

“My mind’s a mess. I guess…I guess when I did get flashes of you, I was convinced I was imagining it. I thought I was dying. I mean, I was dying. So, I figured my mind showed me what I would want to see in my final moments.”

“Bucky, I–”

But Y/N was interrupted by a cellphone ringing. She jumped at the sound.

Bucky did not. Without saying anything, he got up and grabbed a cellphone, a model that Y/N hadn’t seen in probably over a decade.

“That’ll be Steve,” he told her, without any emotion, as he plopped the phone in front of her.

Y/N shared a moment with Bucky before quickly picking it up before it could stop ringing and walked outside as she answered it.

----------------------------------------

Chapter 23

Thank you for your patience. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but it’s never been this hard to keep me writing a series.

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asktheghosthost · 4 years

Note

🆗️

There was a light rap on the front door that could only be described as elegant. A simple knuckled "knock knock" that was going to wait patiently until it was answered, because it had plenty of good faith to know it would be.

The patience paid off, as within moments the door slowly creaked open.

"Ladies..." the deep, uncharacteristically tired voice of the Ghost Host greeted. "Do please step inside."

Aurora and Cinderella shot each other a concerned glance before they walked into the dark mansion.

A little green fire grew in the foyer hearth, offering more light. Then that was followed by the curtains pulling back to allow in more sunshine. Still, their host remained mostly invisible. If the women peered hard enough, they could make out faint blue outlines of a tall, skinny body, but it flickered in and out like a dying light bulb.

"I do apologize for my lack of appearance. I hope you don't think me rude."

"Not at all, Beauregard" Cinderella was quick to speak up. "We understand you ghosts are sensitive to lights."

"Oh, it isn't that, princess..." There was a soft groan, and they could see an indent in the seat in front of them. "Without mortal visitors, there is no abundance of sympathetic vibrations to give us the energy to properly materialize. And with how things have been the last few months, well..." He let the obvious hang in the air. Feeling guilty at their sad expressions, he quickly added, "But look at me being such a rude host. I'm sure I could fetch some tea--"

"No!" Aurora put out a hand. Then she cleared her throat. "No, thank you, that's not necessary. We won't be long. We've come by to let you know the parks will be opening soon."

"And we're planning a party at the castle to celebrate," Cinderella said with a smile. "You're invited, of course."

Aurora reached into the pocket of her skirt to pull out an envelope. It was painted with beautiful birds and swoops and swirls, clearly Rapunzel's handiwork. "We'll be going over everything that'll be..." Her smile became a slight wince. "Different, for the time being."

Beau stood to take the invitation, but it slipped through his hand non- corporeal form. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I--"

"Don't worry, I've got it!" Aurora was quick to grab it and place it on a nearby table.

Cinderella went over to the windows and began untying the curtains, plunging the room back into its former darkness. "We've got more of the Kingdom's residents to see, and you should rest."

After their good byes, the two princesses stood on the porch, grappling with what had just happened.

"We dropped the ball, Cindy. It's past midnight and the pumpkin is splattered."

"Right. So we have to fix it."

***

A few hours later, there was that elegant knock at the front door again.

"Dorian... could you answer that?" Beau called from his chair, vaguely waving a hand. "I got it last time..."

Dorian practically oozed out of his portrait. "Don' wanna." But he dragged himself to the entryway anyway. It took slight effort to pull the door open, but at the sight of the bright, dozen grinning faces on the other side, he was figuratively and literally glowing. "Princesses!" He fell into a bow.

"Oh, there's no need for that!" Snow White giggled and reached down to help him up. "We heard you weren't feeling good."

"Nothing some beignets won't fix," Tiana announced, leading the charge inside. She and Rapunzel carried armfuls of plates piled with treats.

"An' plenty o' games to get the spirits up... spirits." Merida gave Dorian a playful punch in the arm as she went past, hauling various painted targets and wooden darts and arrows.

Dorian could only watch, flabberghasted, as the parade of princesses headed down the hall. "What is all this?"

"Think of it as a much needed morale boost," Moana said.

"Yeah," Anna agreed. "Believe it or not, some of us have a pretty good idea what it's like, being stuck inside for days and days and days and--"

Moana nudged her.

"Days. You start to go a little stir crazy."

Elsa went past, using her magic to amplify the damask designs in the wallpaper, making them shine and sparkle. They created just enough light to help guide the women, while keeping it dim enough for the ghosts. It was a hauntingly beautiful effect. "You need a change of scenery..."

Jasmine put her fingers to her lips and whistled. Carpet zoomed in, scooping up Dorian and Beauregard. "And a little help getting around!"

Carpet took off with the ghosts, zipping through the corridors, until he came to a stop in the ballroom. He hovered above the ground, letting them sit and watch as the princesses set out the food and games and decorated.

While the women were working, a change came over the ghosts. Their features became more defined. A glowing hue took over their forms. Fully visible now, they jumped down and rushed off to gather their fellow undead.

Soon, a great party had started, and once faint and weary spirits were laughing and dancing, back to their old selves.

It was later that evening, amidst quiet chatter and while a few souls were still playing Merida's target practice, (Constance was tied with Mulan), that Cinderella approached the Ghost Host.

He was sitting at the far end of the table, watching the others, content to be an observer.

"Hey." She sat down next to him. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Much." He found it hard to look at her, though, opting instead to stare down at his transparent, clasped hands. All this fussing over him was getting uncomfortable.

"Beauregard..." She leaned over, attempting to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry."

Shocked, he shook his head. "Sorry? Princess, what on earth for?"

She pressed her lips together, preparing what to say. "Aurora and I help Mickey watch over the kingdoms. It's easy to remember the other girls, or the rowdy pirates, or the... singing... dolls..." They simultaneously shuddered. "With you ghosts... sometimes we overlook you. It's not intentional. We know you like to take care of yourselves and keep to the dark, and we try to respect that. But with how everything's been lately, we should have checked up on you. This lack of interaction can take its toll on anyone. You're part of our family, and I promise, I'll never forget that again."

Beau felt a lump in his throat, and the old ghost couldn't help smiling. "Thank you, princess."

"However!" She held up her index finger. "I want you to promise, too, that if you need help, you'll ask for it. No staying quiet until things are dire. Promise?"

Sometimes Beauregard hated calling Cinderella "princess." "Queen" was a far more deserved title for her. He gave an obedient decline of his head. "Yes, princess, I promise."

She smiled at that. "Good." A tiny pause. "Also, you can stop addressing me as 'princess' all the time. Family is on a first name basis."

"Yes, prin-- Cinderella."

#crazypercheron #ask #drabble #short story #fan fic #Beau #Dorian #park verse

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ddearddigitalddiary · 4 years

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folklore: Stoned Favorites

It’s been just about 48 hours since Queen Taylor surprised us with TS8 entitled folklore. This album was born out of quarantine and is becoming her highest critically acclaimed album yet. She’s fucking amazing, magical, powerful, etc. I’ve had a few listen throughs to digest it, but I’m still processing all of its beauty. It has quickly become a favorite. Taylor somehow has this power where she drops an album that is lined up perfectly to the events I’m going through in my personal life. Maybe I’m just finding how it relates to me and seeing myself in the album, but that’s the beauty of it anyways. Going through a tough breakup, living through a global pandemic, society is literally never going back to something we knew... It’s all a bit much. And Ms. Swizzle has put words to my deepest feelings, and as always helped me feel and heal.

Here are my favorite parts of the beautiful, whimsical, mystical album that is folklore:

the 1: (this one hurts a little much for me right now...) we never painted by the numbers baby, but we were making it count, you know the greatest loves of all time are over now / in my defense i have none for never leaving well enough alone, but it would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the one

cardigan: (first of the love triangle, Taylor freaking Swift. this entire song is so beautiful. one of my faves and i cried the first time i heard it) i knew you stepping on the last train, marked me like a bloodstain I, I knew you tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy I, I knew you leaving like a father, running like water I, and when you are young they assume you know nothing, but I’d knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss, I knew you’d haunt all of my what if’s, the smell of smoke would hang around this long, cause I knew everything when I was young

the last great american dynasty: (a sweet little bop. i love this one. Taylor’s voice is so pretty. this guitar is *chefs kiss*) she had a marvelous time ruining everything / [the entire bridge!!!!] there goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen, i had a marvelous time ruining everything

exile: (again, this one hurts right now. a bit relevant.) you’re not my homeland anymore, so what am i defending now? / (pretty much Taylor’s whole verse because freaking ouch - it’s describing my heart space right now) i think i’ve seen this film before, so I’m leaving out the side door / cause you never gave a warning sign - i gave sooo many signs

my tears ricochet: (hearing this song with the framing of it being about B*g M*****e is so sad, heartbreaking, powerful) cause i loved you, i swear i loved you, til my dying day, i didn’t have it in myself to go with grace (and then really the whole entire rest of the song.) / WHEN I’M SCREAMING AT THE SKYYY... YOU HEAR MY STOLEN LULLABIIIIES

mirrorball: (this one feels like 80′s prom or something, i’m in love) *hushh* when no one is around my dear, you’ll find me on my tallest tip toes, spinning in my highest heels love, shining just for youuu

seven: (this one makes me feel like i’m in a grassy meadow, while of course swinging on a tree, with a light summer breeze) sweet tea in the summer, cross your heart won’t tell no other / love you to the moon and to saturn / (STRINGS)

august: (another love triangle song, and it’s my favorite of the moment i think... i think. it also hurts a little bit because of my love life heart space ): ) i remember thinking i had you, but i can see us lost in the memory, august slipped away into a moment in time, cause he was never mine, and i can see us twisted in bed sheets, august sipped away like a bottle of wine, cause you were never mine / (and the fact that there’s beautiful flutes noticeable to me and beautiful saxophone is just super convenient for my feelings as well. also, beautiful fade out, *chefs kiss*)

this is me trying: (this beat going into the song goes hard. guess what - song again hits me like a truck. it’s like what i would want him to say to me. i picture it’s fairly similar to what he’s going through. who knows.) so i got wasted like all my potential, and my words shoot to kill when i’m mad, i have a lot of regrets about that

illicit affairs: (these guitars are like hugging my ears) take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times (that line in particular hits) / don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this idiotic fool that you made me, you taught me a secret language i can’t speak with anyone else, and you know damn well for you i would ruin myself a million little times

invisible string: (again, guitars hugging the ears :). and of course, this song gives me hope for whatever, whoever could be out there for me. her runs are angelic) bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to la / time, mystical time, cutting me open then healing me fine~ / one single thread of gold tied me to you / hell was the journey but it brought me heaven / give me the blues and the purple pink skies, baby it’s cooool with meeeee! (so many Lover references in these lines! I’m in love!)

mad woman: (i’m in love with this song as well. like another version of the Man, aka don’t fuck with me. i’m in love with the entire chorus and her voice and the piano) what do you sing on your drive home, do you see my face in the neighbor’s lawn, does she smile or does she mouth fuck you forever / no one likes a mad woman, you made her like that... / women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you

epiphany: (the production of this song is so angelic and peaceful yet the lyrics are haunting and i get sad every time i listen to it. the parallel between the war and the pandemic is rough and sad. this song is a different kind of hurt) hold your hand through plastic now, doc i think she’s crashing out, and some things you can’t speak about *and then the moment of silence with horns*...

betty: (the last of the triangle. this is the one that is so beautiful and heartbreaking and hopeful? maybe not hopeful it’s more the nostalgia factor of it all for me that just because of the breakup stage i’m in right now is what makes it heartbreaking... one day it will be more beautiful and i can smile to it with a longing and gratuitous embrace... also a bop, ALSO reminds me of country Taylor and it’s so *hugs my heart and teen me*) but if i just showed up at your party, would you have me would you want me? would you tell me to go fuck myself or lead me to the garden / i don’t know anything but i know i miss you / the only thing i wanna do is make it up to you / (KEY CHANGE !!!) / kissing in my car again, stopped at a streetlight you know i miss you

peace: (another favorite!!!! and apparently the first take she did of this song IS THE ONE THAT’S ON THE ALBUM. artist.) the devils in the details, but you got a friend in me, would it be enough if i could never give you peace, your integrity makes me seem small, you paint dreamscapes on the wall, i talk shit with my friends, it’s like i’m wasting your honor *piannooooo* / and you know that i’d swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches, give you my wild, give you a child...

hoax: (a hauntingly beautiful one, a favorite, love that it’s the closer. it HURTS me right now but i’ll take it. it’s a beautiful song and it’s helping the heal. can’t wait to hear the lakes on the deluxe! - also i just so happen to be re-reading the twilight series right now and it’s the exact vibes i get from this song - the level of love, the cliff sides, the sleepless nights, the piano, eclipsed sun) stood on the cliff side screaming give me a reason, your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in.... don’t want no other shade of blue but you, no other sadness in the world would do.

Taylor announced it and I woke up to the news. I spent the whole day obsessed with the thought of the album and the fact that she literally surprise dropped and shook the whole swiftie kingdom as well as it’s surrounding communities. I had no idea what to expect with it but I said it would be my new favorite Taylor album, i just had a feeling. And I think that this album proved that statement was true. This side of Taylor is the storytelling side I absolutely fell in love with. Her power and creativity and pen are just top tier and she’s the freaking artist of my lifetime. This album will be helping me heal, just as rep did, just as 1989 did, just as Speak Now, Fearless did. I love you Taylor. Thank you for the beauty that is folklore.

#Taylor Swift #folklore #the 1 #cardigan #the last great american dynasty #exile #Bon Iver #my tears ricochet #mirrorball #seven #august #this is me trying #illicit affairs #invisible string #mad woman #epiphany #betty #peace #hoax

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thedeviltohisangel · 5 years

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He’s A God, He’s A Man: 2

If she had known who would be at the window, she might not have looked.

masterlist is my url/writing

send me your thoughts

Lydia thought the quality of air in New York was rough but Birmingham was giving that thought a run for its money. She held a handkerchief over mouth and nose as she stood in front of the two family home that would be half hers for however long this operation took.

It was already decorated upon her arrival but there were things she needed to change in order to feel at home. She would need at least one place in this city where she could feel safe.

----

Sitting at his desk in the betting room, Tommy was haunted his most recent encounter with Danny. The power the war still had over all of them was startling. Tommy did his best to cope with it but shutting out all of his emotions. It was the only way for him to possibly survive. As far as he was concerned, the Tommy before and during the war no longer existed nor had he ever. That Tommy had lost everything. Had been beaten down to the point of submission. He was stronger now because of it. People parted on the street when he walked down it because he had had the strength and the will to push aside who he was to be who he needed to be.

Arthur had brought the mention of an Inspector arriving in Birmingham to the family meeting just a couple hours prior. Tommy had heard the mumblings and whispering of the streets. He was known for being ruthless. The way he had been cleaning up Belfast without mercy had travelled faster than the train he had arrived in on.

He knew Pol was starting to get agitated by the new Tommy. The cold man who spared her fleeting glances with barely any humanity behind them. She had been the only one to ask him about the silver ring around his neck. Tommy thinks she was the only one with the guts to. He had simply told her it tied him to the past. That everything that made him weak was trapped inside the metal, never to escape.

The ring in question was tucked under his bed with his pipe and stash of opium. The drugs were to help him sleep and the ring and a letter from Lydia for when he couldn’t. The whole box was a secret to everyone in his life. His American nurse was near a secret as well. Occasionally, one of his siblings or his aunt would whisper about the girl Tommy loved in France. Whisper about the man he might’ve been if she had been on the train with him that day. Tommy thought about that too. The dreams had been more vivid when he had first come back but now they were nostalgic. He couldn’t remember the pain in his side that had brought him into her care in the first place. Only remembered being healed and happy. Then Birmingham had torn open all his wounds. The Peaky Blinders became his source of healing. They numbed him. The lack of regard for life and death, lack of caring what the man standing across from him meant to someone else. Only caring how he would help him meet his ends.

Tommy knows that men like him don’t get to live long. Don’t get to ever be truly happy.

Then there were the guns. He had a sneaking that it wasn’t communists the Inspector was looking for but him. Polly had told him what to do. It was the sensible, safe thing to do. Which is exactly why he wasn’t going to do it. Expansion was always playing at the edge of his mind. Now was as good a time as ever.

----

Lydia held her white gloved hands in front of her as she eyed the pub from across the street. The more she had sat couped up in her new apartment, the more she had thought about getting a job. She had worked and had her own income for as long as her parents would let her. There was something about earning that made her proud. Straightened out her back and squared her shoulders. It was a man’s world both before and after the war. She had heard from others that during the war had been different. Women had rolled up their sleeves and gotten their hands dirty and made sure the world kept spinning while men fought leagues away. Lydia had heard the call to join the cause in France. She didn’t regret it for a second. She regretted coming back more than anything. The value she held overseas had been paramount. She had flitted from wounded man to healing man with ease and made them all feel comfort as they transitioned on and off the battlefield and from life to death. Fuck every doctor in New York City that had told her she didn’t have the proper education to do the job. That she was just a volunteer. An imposter. One day, she would prove all of them wrong.

“Hello, sir, how are you this afternoon?” She slid off her gloves, holding them both in one hand so she could extend her other to the man who was sweeping broken glass on the floor.

“Who are you?” Lydia retracted her hand quickly.

“Someone in need of a job.”

“Right. Be on your way. I haven’t the patience for swindling today.”

“I’m afraid we misunderstand each other. I read in the paper this morning that you were looking for a barmaid. And I happen to be looking for a source of income-”

“With silk gloves?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Look, miss, the type of client I host here, not the type you wish to be associating with. They’d eat you alive.”

“I was a nurse over in France. I know how to hold my own against some soldiers.” He looked at her like she really had no idea the kind of clientele that frequented The Garrison. Maybe they were soldiers once. But now they were Peaky Blinders. No way of knowing how to defend yourself against the likes of them. “How about we do a probationary run? If I am not able to do it, then we can go our separate ways with no hard feelings. Just give me a chance. Please.” Lydia had learned young that men who bend to her will if she made herself seem smaller. If she played into the gender subservience they expected from her.

“Right, yeah, temporary. Tomorrow afternoon.”

Lydia walked in for her first shift at The Garrison with a crowd already filling the chairs and the air with their laughter and loud voices. Harry was expertly pouring multiple drinks at once behind the bar and keeping the alcohol flowing so the coins could continue to drop onto the bar top.

“Here, let me.” Lydia took the glass out of his hands and continued to fill it from the tap without breaking a sweat.

“Nice little trick there, love.” She flicked her eyes up quickly to meet the ones of the man at the bar. He winked back at her.

“What’s the use of a pint if it isn’t the perfect pour?” she questioned. As someone who frequently sought the comfort of a cold drink, she had learned exactly how it soothed pain easiest. It was a wonder she hadn’t found a job in a pub sooner. If the world didn’t trust her nursing expertise, maybe they would trust her expertise in drinking.

“Now I’ll say-” The man was interrupted by the gentle knock on the window next to the tap. Lydia had assumed it was a private room for VIP clients of the pub but she was curious as to who exactly would be back there. The man she had been talking to at the bar was now deathly silent. “Best attend to that request, miss.” Furrowing her brow, Lydia pulled open the frosted glass.

It was better she hadn’t been prepared for who would be on the other side. She might not have ever opened the window and seen. It was as if every emotion she had experienced for her entire life came together to crash into her. She felt confusion at seeing the new lines that were etched across his face. Anger that he hadn’t looked for her, anger that she had been forced to spend this much time away from him. Curiosity as to what her Thomas had been up to that had him hiding in back rooms of a pub. But the prevailing feeling pumping through her veins was one of longing. Longing to be back in that cramped bed in France where everything seemed so much simpler. Perhaps even back to when she thought Tommy was dead. When she didn’t know how much she had been missing.

“Tommy,” she breathed out. He showed nothing at the sight of her. For years he had been trying to convince himself that Lydia was never real to begin with. That she was just a trick his shell shock had been playing on him. A coping mechanism to deal with what he had seen. What he still saw. But the woman looking at him through the window looked an awful lot like he had dreamed. Her cheekbones were a bit more prominent and her hair not as curly but it was Lydia. His Lydia.

“You’re dead. You’re not real.” He shut the glass doors to the bar. He must be sleeping. He must have taken too much opium. And there was no way he was about to have trouble breathing with his bloodied brother waiting on Watery Lane.

Lydia pressed her hand against the glass where Tommy had just been. Maybe she had dreamt it. Maybe this whole experience had been one long, realistic dream. Perhaps she had allowed herself to be tricked into believing Tommy Shelby still walked this earth.

“Lydia? Whatever order comes through that window is on the house, got it?” She nodded at Harry, thinking she might vomit if she opened her mouth to respond to him. The sound of a glass breaking across the pub jolted her out of her state of shock. Without a word she grabbed a bucket and a broom to go and clean up the mess before one of the men hurt themselves and made a bigger mess. You’re dead. You’re not real. His words haunted her. Tommy probably thought she had died after the fire when she made no contact and never found him in Birmingham after all this time. How did she explain to him that she had gone this whole time thinking he was dead?

With a huff, she got down onto her knees to pick up the tinier pieces of glass that were evading the broom. Just as soon as she had dumped the little pile into the bucket, a hand roughly grabbed her upper arm and pulled her up to her feet.

“You, of all people, should never be kneeling on a dirty pub floor.” After the first time she had laid eyes on Thomas Shelby, she had described his eyes as hauntingly beautiful to the other nurses. That hadn’t changed.

“It’s really me, Tommy. And it’s really you.”

“You still a nurse?” The way he shut down the conversation she was trying to initiate slapped her across the face.

“Technically-”

“Don’t have the time. You’re coming with me.” Like a rag doll he dragged her through the streets before stopping in front of his home on Watery Lane. Lydia had heard plenty of stories of this place during the war. How the whole family Shelby lived under one roof. The shenanigans that ensued because of it.

Tommy had told her about each of his family members in depth. How she would love Pol, their intellects above his own. That Ada was dying for another girl her age to hang around with. That Finn would be following Tommy around like a shadow but how he was the sweetest boy and Lydia could help teach him how to read and write. Arthur and John would no doubt protect her like their own sister.

But now, standing in front of the house she was going to come home to after the war and on Tommy’s arm, felt odd. She had dreamed about this house and the people inside it for so long that she feared learning the truth.

“I’m a trained nurse!” Lydia assumed it was Ada’s voice she heard coming from the kitchen as she entered with Tommy and the bottle of rum he had plucked from the bar.

“Pay no mind, Ada, I’ve found a nurse who did more than one first aid class.” The entire Shelby family looked at Lydia like she was a ghost. In a way, she was.

“The photograph,” Polly whispered.

“Do you have some tape? His thumb is broken,” Lydia asked as she began to roll up her sleeve. She plucked the rum from Tommy’s hand, sparing him a glance, before taking the rag from the hands of his sister. She figured the best way to get Tommy to talk to her was to take care of his brother first. Then she could at least make the argument that he owed her.

“I’ll go grab some,” Ada murmured as she stared at Tommy. He seemed to be taking this incredibly well. Her and Polly had sat by the fire before and talked about the girl in the picture Tommy thought he kept hidden from his family in the desk. The girl who had he had given a matching silver ring to.

“You’re the American nurse. From France,” Arthur pointed out as she offered him the bottle.

“Yes. Now drink.”

@aveiangdon @odetostep

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction

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confessionsofalisteningfreak · 4 years

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FINE LINE - Harry Styles

Disclaimer: This review is my personal bias because I have been a fan of Harry’s since the One Direction days.

Track One: “Golden”

This song is the perfect opener. Harry said in an interview that it’s a song to play when driving down a Malibu highway on a summer day. When I first listened to it, I was blown away by its complex chords and production. The track leaves you feeling excited and ready for an adventure.

Track Two: “Watermelon Sugar”

This is the second song he released as a promo single. It’s pop perfection with a positive energy and a fun, groovy beat. Harry does an amazing job with creating songs that massively sound current but is nothing that sounds like what’s on the radio. My favorite part are the horns that come in at the end.

Visual Reference: Watermelon Sugar Performance

youtube

Track Three: “Adore You”

This is the second single. When I first heard it, I immediately felt like I was listening to a One Direction song mixed with an 80s throwback with better production. You get lost in the instrumental for the first listen or two, but when you pay attention to the lyrics, the song has a deeper meaning.

Visual Reference: Adore You Music Video

youtube

Track Four: “Lights Up”

This is the lead single. It was unexpected. His sound has changed so much from his first album, but I love it. This song seems to fit in the 70s disco, R&B, jazz era but it’s hard to categorize it. The song has a peaceful, uplifting, luscious energy.

Visual Reference: Lights Up Music Video

youtube

Track Five: “Cherry”

If you are a fan of Harry’s, you know this song is about his ex-girlfriend. The whole track sounds like a diary entry. It’s lyrically amazing and the build up of the drums is the best part. It’s dreamy but also heartbreaking.

Track Six: “Falling”

By far the best song that Harry has ever done. I’m a sucker for a piano ballad. It’s a tearjerker and you can just hear the heartbreak in his voice. It’s almost unbelievable that he wrote it in 20 minutes in just a towel.

Track Seven: “To Be So Lonely”

This track is defiantly a grower. It’s a great example of how separated he is from most of the music world today but at the same time is still current and successful. It seems to rebuttal his heartbreak in the previous song.

Track Eight: “She”

TWO WORDS: Guitar solo! This is the ultimate rock song and the only one we get on this album. The lyrics are confusing but the instrumental makes up for that. It’s a lengthy song but that’s what makes it a smooth rock sound.

Track Nine: “Sunflower Vol. 6″

Harry mentioned in an interview about doing mushrooms while working on this album and that clearly comes through in this song. It’s very 70s psychedelic. It has a funky, groovy, happy tune. The end has you laughing until it’s over.

Track Ten: “Canyon Moon”

Pure early 70s vibes. Sounds like it was inspired by Fleetwood Mac. It’s a sit around the campfire and sing along kind of song. It has a country, folk undertone.

Track Eleven: “Treat People With Kindness”

Harry created this song from his personal mantra. From the first listen it sounds like something that belongs in a musical. It’s a perfect balance between a heavy feeling but is also lighthearted.

Track Twelve: “Fine Line”

The title track. It’s the longest song on this album, which has become a staple of Harry’s. I would describe this song as hauntingly beautiful. It repeats the same lyrics, which I’m not usually a fan of, but that’s what makes this song evoke emotion. I love how he ends with a positive note, assuring us that he is okay, even if he isn’t, he will be.

In conclusion, Wow - what a brilliant album, from start to finish. Artistically, creatively, sonically and so much more. It screams of individuation. Everything about his music is innovative, refreshing and aesthetically appealing.

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swainlake · 5 years

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Hello! So now that got has ended I'm looking for some tv shows that I could watch after I'm done with my exams. Do you have any suggestions? I'm not looking for anything specific, although if you have watched some good period dramas, I'd love some recommendations. Also wanted to add how much I love your blog, it's really beautiful

tysm that’s so sweet!! i love giving recs so i’ve got a bunch that you might like under the cut; i’ve put a ♡ next to my favs

period dramas:

NEW WORLDS (2014)this one is a mini series, only 4 episodes long, but please don’t let that stop you! it’s about anti-monarchism and rebellion and forbidden love in the 1600′s & is set in both england and america. i cried more than once but the ending is so bittersweet and hopeful!!

POLDARK (2015—)i have a love/hate relationship with this one tbh. i started watching because of the main relationship but i ended up really into it for the side relationships instead?? the actual political plot doesn’t interest me but i love the drama between the family members. also i adore the women in this show, every single female character is well-written and realistic and you’ll love them all (even if at times you hate them). the men tho? the men are pretty much collectively the worst. “what’s wrong with the women in this family?” “the men.”

SPARTACUS (2010—2013) ♡i started watching this before i ever got into game of thrones but if you like the fight scenes in got, you’ll enjoy this! great characters, great fight scenes, great friendships. this one is based on gladiators who are fighting for their freedom.

THE WHITE PRINCESS (2017) ♡okay firstly and most importantly: jodie comer stars in this so you know it’s good. it’s also got michelle fairly (catelyn stark) in it though tbh she wasn’t my favourite character in this and i didn’t find her likeable at all. it’s not very historically accurate ofc but the relationship between henry/elizabeth is honestly the perfect enemies to lovers rep & always lowkey reminds me of book!sansa/jon possibilities

PAN AM (2011—2012)this one isn’t like game of thrones at all but it’s only one season and it’s super cute and has a lot of famous actresses in it like christina ricci & margot robbie. based on the adventures of a crew of pan am stewardesses, this is a good combination of lighthearted fun and chilling cold-war drama. an old favourite.

THE MUSKETEERS (2014—2016) ♡i’ll be gushing over this for years to come tbh it’s really just that perfect. the relationship between the musketeers is so lovely, the personification of ‘brotherhood’ really, but also the romantic relationships are really good too?? which for some reason i personally hadn’t expected. my fav couple is aramis/anne (anne is played by the actress who played roslin frey!) because the forbidden love & the respect and adoration between those two is just perfect but really every relationship (even the ones that don’t become endgame) are written very well

OUTLANDER (2014—)i haven’t watched every single episode of this one but from what i have seen it’s very good, and has some similar themes to game of thrones!! the sex scenes are epic, the main relationship is lovely, and overall its a very realistic show that features supernatural elements!

THE LAST KINGDOM (2015—) ♡i’m not going to lie: i started this series by skipping straight to 2x7 because i’d seen gifs of the relationship between aethelflaed and erik but it was so good i ended up going back and starting from the beginning! this show reminds me of ‘vikings’ more tham game of thrones but it’s not as gory and the characters aren’t all assholes. side note: if you love sansa stark as much as i do you’re gonna love aethelflaed, lady of mercia! she’s actually a real person but this show is based on a book series that looks super interesting! honestly the main character also kind of reminds me of jon snow

HARLOTS (2017—) ♡oh my gosh how do i describe this show?? the family dynamics are so! intricate! and! beautiful! honestly just stunning. everything about this show is s t u n n i n g. the costumes are colourful and vivid and honestly i’d recommend watching just for that but the storyline really does keep you hooked!! also: liv tyler and jessica brown findlay are love interests in this which is honestly a dream come true

BLACK SAILS (2015—2017)okay full disclosure; i haven’t actually seen this but i’ve heard very good things and it’s on my list!! it’s about pirates, i think there’s some queer rep (can anybody confirm??), and there’s lots of amazing women. again, allegedly.

dramas:

THE SOCIETY (2018—)i literally watched the entire first season in a single night so it must be alright, right? basically all you need to know about this is that a town full of teenagers go on a field trip & then return to find all their parents mysteriously missing and their town closed off from the outside world. it’s basically lord of the flies but modern! with some kick-ass friendships! and amazing young women (one literally teaches herself to be a doctor can you believe?)!

SHARP OBJECTS (2018)if you haven’t heard about this one yet idk what rock you’ve been living under but welcome back! this one is a m a z i n g but also hella chilling and the ending is such a shocker if it hasn’t been spoiled for you yet!

THE BOLD TYPE (2017—) ♡i always describe this one as ‘sex and the city for millennials’ but i’ve never watched a single sex and the city episode in my life so i honestly don’t know how accurate that is?? but it’s about a group of 20-something year old women who are best friends and work mates and they love each other so much?? the relationship between the girls is my favourite thing about the show but the show honestly tackles a lot of relevant issues; trump, age gaps, queer rep, immigration, racism, etc. i can’t recommend this enough!

CODE BLACK (2015—2018) ♡you know those episodes in greys anatomy where everything is life-or-death and you’re on edge for the whole episode? that’s basically every single episode of code black. this is hands-down one of my most rewatched shows ever. i love medical dramas and this one balances well written characters with action-packed medical miracles so honestly what’s not to like??

A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES (2018—)okay admittedly the only reason i watch this show is because of the main couple but i can’t help it when they’re just so gosh-darn cute!! they love each other so god damned much! i wasn’t completely sold on this straight away but by ep 3 i was HOOKED. if you like supernatural romances/dramas that are more mature than your usual cw show, this one is a good choice!

THE OA (2016—) ♡i can’t even put into words how much i adore this?? but also: it will confuse THE SHIT out of you. no matter how smart you are, this one will leave you scratching your head. basically: a group of people who’ve had near-death experiences get kidnapped and experimented on. it’s not as brutal as it sounds, in fact the show is exceptionally beautiful, but it does deal with some hard themes and the good guys don’t always win.

12 MONKEYS (2015—2018)do you like time travel? do you like forbidden and yet totally-still-devoted-to-one-another-anyway love? then this is the show for you! this one is dark and gritty and deals pretty realistically with the concept of time travel & self-sacrifice and what people will give up to create a better world. it’s got a happy ending & you wont regret watching!

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE (2018)oh this one will make you cry. in a good way though! long story short a family grows up in a haunted house and it affects them in ways they cannot imagine. it’s hauntingly beautiful and poetic and everybody should watch it at least once imo

comedies:

THE MARVELOUS MRS MAISEL (2017—)okay so this one counts as a period drama as well but it’s about a COMEDIAN so i put it in the comedy section lol. okay so long story short, a woman is left by her husband, she’s worth 1000 of him & everybody else knows it because you seriously can’t help falling in love with this woman but ofc there’s period-typical sexism she has to face as she struggles with being a single woman, a single mother, and an up-and-coming comedian. def recommend.

SANTA CLARITA DIET (2017—2019)drew barrymore is a zombie!! who lives a normal life but also eats people!! it’s only weird for the first couple of eps. the family dynamics are snarky and witty and they manage to make gore funny?? honestly this entire show is legit laugh-out-loud darkly hilarious.

#if you like any of these & want some recs that are similar please feel free to send another message!#i've got some movies you might like as well #cool ask tag

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doomedandstoned · 6 years

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Lurk Deliver an Emotional Sledgehammer of Extremity

~By Willem Verhappen~

I have a confession to make: I'm a shallow bastard. At least, I can be when it comes to music. Every so often, I come across a record by a band I don't know and I buy it even though I haven't heard a single note of what's on it. Sometimes, when I have no idea what kind of music it even is, I might do a quick internet search, but often I just buy it. I buy those records for one simple reason: I like the artwork. The thing with this tactic is, sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn't.

I also bought 'Fringe' (2018), the third record by Finnish death-doomsters LURK for this reason. The record was originally released in 2016 by the band themselves, but now Transcending Obscurity Records re-released the record with hauntingly beautiful new artwork from Adam Burke.

Hauntingly beautiful is also a good way to describe the music. Not in a pretty way though, for this is still a Finnish band. I'm not sure if it's the lack of sunlight during winter or something else, but the country is home to some of the most depressing bands ever. Lurk certainly is one of them. The four piece mixes death, black and doom metal in a sludgy mix.

Fringe (Atmospheric Sludge/Doom Metal) by LURK (Finland)

Opener "Ostrakismos" is dark, almost ambient-like piece, with even an alto-saxophone thrown in the mix. Expect slow but melodic guitar arpeggios, drenched in reverb and with sufficient feedback. "Tail Blade" has a more traditional structure, with some quality doom riffs and heavy drum hits.

By the end of the second song, it's already clear who the real star of the record is. Vocalist Kimmo Koskinen is a true force to be reckoned with. His grunts are low and dark, sometimes appearing to go subsonic. It's often similar to the most extreme parts of Manne Ikonen (Ghost Brigade). At other times he belts out emotional screams, sporadically bordering those of Amenra's Colin H van Eeckhout. By the time we reach "Elan," Koskinen channels his inner Aaron Stainthorpe, mixing clean vocals with grunts. It must be noted though, that even though his clean vocals are good, he's no match for the My Dying Bride vocalist.

The fact that the vocals are good on this record, does not mean that the music is overpowered by them. Musically, every song firmly holds its ground. Each song is a depression inducing lesson in bleakness. The songs sometimes sound clear, melodic and open, at other times heavy and dense, throwing you on the floor and refusing to let you get up. Once again the comparison with their countrymen from Ghost Brigade isn't far away, but Lurk still manage to kick it up a notch.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Transcending Obscurity is my go-to label for extreme metal and Fringe is no exception. If you're into the Finnish brand of extreme doom metal, the kind that is both beautiful and mercilessly punishing, you're going to love Lurk. They're in the same spectrum as bands such as Ghost Brigade, Swallow The Sun and Hooded Menace, but without sounding like a copy of any of those bands. Go have a listen right now, but be careful, you just might be as broken as the end of "Proteus Syndrome."

Chatting It Up With Kalle & Kimmo of Lurk

~By Shawn Gibson~

First things first: introductions!

Kalle: Yours truly, Kalle Nurmi, can be found beating the skins, a.k.a. drumming. Arttu Pulkkinen on guitar, Eetu Nurmi on bass, and Kimmo Koskinen is always screaming for vengeance. We’ve been active for about ten years now.

'Fringe' (2018), your latest LP, was released on the Transcending Obscurity label over the summer, right?

Kalle: That’s correct, but actually Fringe was originally, although momentarily, released on Bandcamp two years prior. We didn’t have any luck with labels back then and decided just to put it out there, mainly out of frustration. Then Kunal Choksi of Transcending Obscurity got in contact with us, wanting to do a proper release and we quite quickly went with him. You could sense the passion driving him and we knew he was gonna deliver - and he did! Fringe is our third album, preceded by our self-titled debut and our second, Kaldera.

Kimmo: Kunal's dedication has been inspiring. Finally Fringe gets the release it deserves, not least because of the exceptionally amazing art of Adam Burke.

What bands from Finland do you guys like and like to play with?

Kalle: Horse Latitudes, Hooded Menace, Coughdust, Demonic Death Judge, Black Royal -- those are just some that come to mind easily, that we’ve played with. There are loads of great bands from Finland, metal and otherwise, that we’ve not shared a stage with just yet.

Kimmo: There are loads of spirited groups in Finnish underground and different styles interlock smoothly together. We have played with doom, death and black metal bands, in hardcore nights and so on. Passionate and honest atmosphere feeds itself and leads to torrid combinations.

Where are some good places in Finland to see metal or heavy bands play?

Kalle: You can see great underground-bands play at Vastavirta Klubi in Tampere. I’m not sure about the situation in Helsinki at the moment, but I presume Lepakkomies has bands all the time and we’ve played there a lot at one point. More mainstream metal acts can be seen at Klubi, YO-Talo or Olympia in Tampere, and during the summer there’s a festival going on somewhere all the time. For example Tuska is completely dedicated to metal.

What are some of Lurk's influences musically?

Kalle: Oh man, that’s a tricky one! We’ve never decided on a certain sound or a band that we wanted to sound like, so all of our influences were allowed to get in the music. But of course, some bands have bigger weight in our output. For example Celtic Frost, Eyehategod, Neurosis, Entombed, Black Sabbath, Emperor, Burzum and about gazillion other bands. Also artists outside of metal, as Scott Walker’s The Drift is, in my opinion, one of the scariest albums ever made.

What's a damn good book you've read lately?

Kalle: Goldfinch by Donna Tartt, American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis, everything by Lovecraft. My most recent favourite book is by legendary Finnish writer Mika Waltari. I had to check online for its English title, it’s called The Etruscan.

What makes you laugh uncontrollably?

Kalle: Human endeavor. Also, cat videos.

The artwork by Adam Burke is amazing! Elan is my favorite song on this album. Please explain what this album means to the band and what the artwork symbolizes.

Kalle: This album means a lot to us. We changed bass players just before making the second album, Kaldera, and that kinda made us want to write differently too, and now with Fringe I think we managed to capture something that was set in motion back in those days. Maybe we are slow learners but this is the album that we wanted to do already back then, we just didn’t know how. We wanted to combine the best parts of our both previous albums and use them to make a goddamn super-album! The art itself wasn’t made to order, but when we saw it there was no question about it. It fits the mood. It’s not completely bleak and void of colour, there are shades and textures. There is also a strong link to nature, and death is ever-present, looming in the background.

Kimmo: Fringe is about the passion and all the human behavior around it. We, as species, have lost and banned big part of our heritage, our primal instincts. What's most important, the honesty has been derogated. Humanity isn't just positive pool of thoughts, and it seems that the world is nowadays living just for the decorative skin. At the same time the self-proclaimed messiahs are conspiring behind our backs, in the name of religion, money and power. But there's so much power to be found from death, rage and beastliness, because those pure things are us. Lurk is the one channeling the vigor and ripping the meaningless crust apart. From the woods we have come and to the woods we are to be buried.

What is in the future for Lurk?

Kalle: New songs, so probably a new album, maybe some gigs. Who knows? The doom-train keeps a-rolling.

You guys have an amazing response to this album and have great reviews how do you feel and how does this motivate you?

Kalle: It’s always good that people like it. Some seem to like it a lot! I’d be making music even without the positive reviews, but they tell us we’re onto something good.

Kimmo: We are making the music for ourselves, first and foremost. But if someone finds it intriguing, I don't blame him or her. If the music makes one think, it has reached the goal.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

Massive Lurk Giveaway!

Transcending Obscurity Records is giving away 100 free digital downloads of Lurk's 'Fringe' (2018). Grab 'em while they're hot! Simply copy one of the codes below and click here to redeem it.

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#D&S Reviews #D&S Interviews #Lurk #Tampere #Finland #Doom #Sludge #Metal #Doom Metal #Transcending Obscurity Records #Willem Verhappen #Shawn Gibson #HeavyBest18 #doomed & stoned

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ikonislife · 6 years

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Shame 2

Junhoe x Reader

Angst, Smut, CEO!Junhoe

Warning: Mature content.

Somewhere in between his haughty smirk and sultry whispers, you let yourself lost in a path of no return with the man who doesn’t love anyone... Or does he?

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Final

“I think the whole party heard you by now, love. Didn’t peg you as a screamer.”

His voice echoed across the dark empty room, uneasiness rising within the pit of your stomach but at the sound of the low growl of neediness commanding an answer, you had no mind to care for the curious way the walls seemed to be amplifying every sound.

“Sorry..I can’t help it… Shit…”

But to your disappointment, Junhoe pulled away leaving you feeling empty and cold from the lack of his tongue. You pushed yourself off the table, wondering what he had gotten up to but was met with perhaps the most mesmerizing sight, Junhoe leaning back in his chair, chest heaving heavily and you realized just how immersed he was, how far he let himself get lost in pleasing you. His lips coated in your nectar, nose too was glistening with wetness that made you want to lick it all off of him… And so you did. He sat still, feeling the desperation in your little fingertips gripping at his crisp white shirt, tugging away his loosen tie and simply smirked when he felt your tongue cleaning up every bit of yourself left over on his features. His eyes cold and piercing, staring you down with almost disdain and haughtiness but he did nothing when you settled on his lap, arms locking at the nape of his neck. Your lips needy, moulding and sucking at his lips then trailing up his nose, you lap at his intensely sharp jaws before sucking a wet spot at the base of his neck. It was only now that his hands returned to your body, gripping your waist so harshly you could feel the blooming of bruises already on your once flawless skin. He nipped at your earlobe, dragging his tongue down to your bare collar bone before scrapping his teeth against it, bitting then sucking no doubt leaving his own marking, claiming you as his. Junhoe leans in closer, that dangerous smirk teasing on his lips as he whispered something you’d never in a million year could conjure up even with that gutter mind of yours.

“Did you think you were fucking special?” Suddenly you felt bare, vulnerable and exposed even though Junhoe was no longer intimately making himself acquaintance with your body.

“What?” Hands grasping at your loosely hung straps, desperately to cover yourself with what little fabric he had left you with.

“Did you think you were special?” He growled once more, the sharpness of his eyes, that distasteful curl of the lips whenever he was disappointed, disapproving were all back as those beautiful features slashes at your every inch of skin. “A doll good for passing time suddenly thinks she’s a princess? Give me a break.”

“N-No…”

“No?” He scoffs and never before had you felt so inferior, so degraded and there is no describing the pain coursing through your veins. “Did you think I was going to take you out to a nice fancy dinner? And what, live happily ever after? You must be daff, insane if you think I would just hand over my status and money to some stupid girl that couldn’t keep it in her pants. If all it took me was a few charming smiles and a well-placed white lies for compliment, I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

Your heart sunk to the deepest depth they had ever been to, not even getting a glass of 1900’s exorbitant wine dumped on your head by that rich douchebag at your part time all those years ago couldn’t compare… Because this, this is a personal insult. At the least you know that pompous ass was only putting up a very pretentious front for the woman that was much too beautiful and graceful for the ugly person that he was. It was pointless drama over the wrong wine.

Without commanding them to, not the tear you’ve been holding back not from pain but from the pleasure derived from the torture but bitter tears. Bitter because you knew you shouldn’t but did, bitter because you thought he cared.

“I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

The next moment your feet were already hitting the ground sprinting, you ran and ran but no matter how far, that hauntingly chilling sentence wouldn’t let you escape its cold fingers. No matter how much you tried, the contempt spewing from his lips, the dirty looks, you couldn’t escaped them.

“I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

You screamed but all that came out was silent, a silent cry for help that only seemed to amplify the scorns and jeers. The hours long you had spent plastering your face with pounds of makeup wasted as the tears streamed down your cheeks. You thought the worst was over, the hurt had been done but what you hadn’t expected was where your feet had carried your dishevel self.

“Are you alright, Y/n?” A kind face, Mark from HR so gentle with that mesmerizing smile. “You look a bit cold, here take this!”

A warm jacket wrapped around your shivering shoulders as he lead you across the crowded lobby, people smiled and greeted the both of you but non seemed to be shook at your Cinderella-eques self, not the princess at the ball but the one that had lead to her meeting with the fairy godmother. Something in the way his hand so tightly woven around your aching shoulder, the way he’d occasionally gave it a soft squeeze as if reassuring everything will be alright got you in a trance. So you let your eyes fluttered close, letting yourself get lost in the vast ocean that was his addicting mix of whiskey and expensive cologne.

Mark is your fairy godmother.

“Look everyone, Y/n just came down from a “one on one” with the boss,” A loud cheer erupted along with whistles and catcalls. “We all know what that mean, don’t we?”

You couldn’t believe your ears, that soft voice that had been so caring suddenly raged with all the contempt, all the derisiveness the world could bestowed upon one person. You wanted to disappear, to blink and be back in your warm bed but when they opened, all you could see was sly smiles and gasps of judgment.

“Mark, what are you doing. No, I-“

“Don’t worry, Y/n. We all know what a good little pet you’ve been for the boss.”

No matter how much you pried, what force you gave, Mark’s hands around your waist holding you back for the world to taunt would only grew stronger. You begged but it went unheard as if a lonely leaf floating in the wind, useless and fragile, as if your words carried no meaning. Then at the height of it all joined the arrogant Mr. Koo with all of his scorn and condescending jeer.

“I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

All you could do was screamed, screamed until your voice hoarse and throat sore. You screamed but their laughters always louder and before you knew it, your consciousness slipped through the crack of time and-

“Y/N. GODDAMN IT, Y/N. WAKE UP!”

Cold sweat breaking, you felt as if the weight of the word had just been lifted off your shoulders, as if you had just stepped away from the edge of a cliff.

“What? Irene? What are you doing here?” throat dries, funny enough you actually felt like you had just been fucked by the world as you stammered your confusion away.

“Well you screamed your ass off, so I came over. God, you’re drenched. Come on, let’s get these clothes off before you get sick.”

No mind nor strength to fight against Irene’s caring hands even if you felt sick to your stomach and wanting nothing more but to melt away into the night, your body limp as she tugs away the wet pieces of clothing and replaces them with fresh one. Only now did you notice the pants heavy in your chest and the shiver still coursing through your pale cold hands. Your mind hazy and has it not for Irene’s constant sweet chatter lulling you toward reality, you couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to distinguish whether this was a dream or the real world.

“I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about it so, drink this and get some sleep. We’ll deal with this tomorrow morning.” As understanding as ever, a mug of warm tea shoved into your hands and with a blink of an eye, Irene disappeared back out the door with one last understanding smile even though she probably has no clue what was going on in your brain. Although judging by the concern clouding those brilliant eyes and the questionable bit of the lip, Irene knows exactly the cause of your horrendous screams.

Somewhere across the city, across all the tax brackets and fortified private community walls, Junhoe finds himself tossing and turning with the guilt of words like knives eating away at his heart. Warm bed and heavenly soft blanket abandoned, he treks in search of the poison that will surely bring him sleep even if the price for a few decent snooze would be the hammering headache by tomorrow morn. As the cool breeze of a peaceful night brushing against his skin, he took a sip and marvels at the disgustingly polluted sky above with a sigh of disapproval. Not even a dot of stars, not even the moon could fight against the cloudiness as it shies away from the world below.

Suddenly but perhaps not unexpected, Junhoe’s mind flooding with euphoria as the lackluster sky above only reminded him of the insatiable craving growing deep within his heart to see once more the way your eyes shined so brilliantly as if they possessed the universe within them whenever a sweet smile was gracing his day, making it just a bit brighter. The way his name danced so beautifully even if the only two times he had ever had the pleasure of hearing you called him were either with the utmost respect during work hour and the sinful cries of overtime. Just the simple act of you uttering his name alone leaving his imagination running wild.

He wonders what it would sound like had you met at the age when first love was blooming and the only thing dictating his life was teenage hormone. Although if he must be realistic, you’d still be moaning his name by the end of the night so at least that part remained the same.

Would it be any sweeter, had you been the first girl he had learned to love. Perhaps the rowdy days of high school is a rather bad example for the way his heart now seems to be singing your name but that feeling within his gut, the churning and fluttering, that is definitely reminiscent of the good old teenage days.

Would it be much more endearing had you met when he realized the love he once experienced as a young lad had done nothing to prepare him for the pain brought upon his young naïve self, mistaking that love can conquer all. Junhoe is certain he’d have been head over heels for your adorable self just as he is now and no doubt in his mind you’d have teach him a lesson or two on love.

Nowadays, love for him resembles the sun… Not that he thinks of it as sunshine, daisy, and sweet honey but rather the sun to Icarus, the boy who flown too high. He loved and he flew, he was so high and he got hurt. It’s something grand, something magnificent but it’s also something impossible, something unobtainable. Happily ever after is only a fairytale and this cold, harsh life of a young CEO is anything but that as he closed himself off from all possibility of entrusting his heart away.

Your smile carried him to the moon and back but soon the cloud of solemn spread over the precious memories of happier days as those harsh words thrash about his consciousness. It was out of character, so bizarre the way he had behaved especially toward someone so special, the second those grand doors had shut out the fading clicking of your heels, Junhoe had collapsed, a shiver ran deep within his veins at the realization of what he had just done… He had turned into his father, worse, his grandfather.

In no way was his father anything but the most perfect husband and dad in the world but the man he was at work, that person was in every way shape and form someone Junhoe aspires not to be. It was as if his father had possessed dual personality disorder, a kind loving man turned into a monster the moment the perfectly polished shoes and impeccable suit meticulously cloaked over every last bit of humanity he had. Junhoe despised the way he treated everyone as if they were simply dirt beneath his shoesm the scowl that was permanent upon his lips, how everything and anything could become personal.

Now his grandfather, the legacy, or rather stain as Junhoe and his father liked to remind everyone, the stain he had left behind was something of the unsavory sort, something his father had worked to the bones to rid and Junhoe still doing his best to not falling into the beaten path. He was for lack of better terms, a sleaze and as faithful as the second hand on a clock. Junhoe had been appalled, revolted by the words spreading on the grapevine of his womanizing way even before he had step foot into the company. He didn’t understand the flirty looks and sweet words being thrown his direction regardless of the gender, the disrespects he had thought. It wasn’t until his father had officially handing over the reign that the dirty past got dredged up. Suddenly his father action didn’t seem so harsh, suddenly the preconceived reputation of himself didn’t seemed so farfetched any longer.

It had been a near three years since his dad had left the throne for sunshine and Mai Tais by the beach with the love of his life, near three years since Junhoe ascended into this vicious world. He had been good, he swears on his life that he was much more than his predecessors, and everyone would agree. Yet the moment Junhoe saw the fear flashing in your doe eyes, so scared, so terrified of the monster that had shadowed everything he worked so hard to achieved, he knew he had lost it all to a few moments of irrationality. The way your shoulders shivers and body so small against the cold metal of the elevator instead of his arms… Your tears… Maybe Junhoe isn’t any better, maybe him trying so hard to prove otherwise to a world already fearing a person he isn’t did just the opposite… And this curse, the Koo family curse upon the men is something inevitable, something out of his grasp. All he could hope to do now is to mend the bridge he had so cruelly broken yet for reasons not at all unknown to Junhoe, reality as he suspects much grimmer than the last flicker of pipe dream that you’d still look at him with those stars filled eyes. The bridge, after all might be nothing now but ashes and lingering pain that he will never be able to erase because what woman would willingly give her heart to a man that could offer nothing beyond his dick and unkind words.

Here’s a collection of Mr. Koo in suits to distract you from the fact that this part was waaaaay shorter than the first (:

#ikon #ikon scenarios #ikon junhoe #junhoe #koo junhoe #june scenarios #junhoe scenarios

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themousai · 6 years

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Gig Review: Soda Boyz + Yukon Era @ Whammy Bar [28/09/2018]

All week everyone’s been telling me how excited they are for Friday, and for good reason - there’s a really dope gig happening, though that’s where the similarities end - they’re all mostly talking about Scrillex, i’m more excited to catch local act Yukon Era + Soda Boyz at their 7″ release show at Whammy Bar.

The night eases in with Plaines taking to the stage first, their music is experimental, and i’m captivated instantly - it’s not the sort of music I’d normally find myself queuing up on Spotify, but live it translates beautifully. I’m absolutely mesmerised watching the band seamlessly weave through each song, with each note so carefully calculated to form a sound that I can only describe as beautifully chaotic. They briefly address the crowd, thanking us all for coming out early to see them, and then quickly slide straight back into the music.

Up next, we were graced with Being’s presence – I had caught Jasmine Balmer at a gig the weekend before opening for The Leers at Galatos Basement, where I’d been astounded at how loud the crowd were during her set, making it quite hard to hear what she had to say – but this wasn’t the case at Whammy Bar, as she had everyone’s attention the moment she took to the stage, launching straight into her first song ‘High In Mind’ (which admittedly, I’d thought she was singing Haere Mai the week before because it had been so loud at Galatos). Jasmine whirls around the stage with her guitar, grinning from ear to ear – it’s obvious she’s having the time of her life, and everyone’s hanging on her every move. “This next song is called ‘Fold Into The Sea’ and this is what it sounds like…” Jasmine informs us. As I move around with my camera, one crowd member comments to me – “She must be amazing to take photos of hey, such good photo op’s!” – as Jasmine turns her back to the crowd momentarily to jam out with drummer David Waters. As the song draws to a close, she takes a moment to thank Chris Marshall for helping her out on bass while Joshua Worthington-Church is off “being a rockstar” before blessing us with a stunning cover of Best Coast’s ‘When I’m With You’.

Jasmine tells us that she only got the gig because she was fangirling about Yukon Era to Lachie earlier in the week, and he’d been like, “Well why don’t you just come play?” (If only all gig’s were organised that easily!) and it’s here that she really realizes how much the crowd are hanging on her every word. “You guys are quiet and awesome,” she remarks, and takes this opportunity to read aloud some poetry that she had written about the torments of life, and living in circles. The entire room is quiet, with everyone listening intently, and as she finishes, tears have begun to well in her eyes. The whole room applauses, with a few whistles thrown in for good measure, and her whole face lights up into a smile.

She finishes her set with a new song, which she tells us doesn’t have a definite name yet – but might be called “Count Me In” – this is quickly quipped back at by the crowd, with someone calling out “Do you want me to Count You In?”

Soda Boyz take the stage next, a trio hailing from Ashhurst, just out of Palmerston North. They take to the stage in a triangle formation, with Jules Rosenbrook and Felix Carr occupying the front of the stage, whilst Josh Finegan perches behind the drums at the back. Saigon is their first track of the night. It’s slow and melancholic, which for a self described emo band, is not surprising. But their music is hauntingly beautiful, reminiscent of La Dispute, with Felix swaying back and forth on his guitar in time to the notes that are so carefully plucked from his guitar. Similar to Plaines, I’m absolutely mesmerized, and soon realize that I’ve been standing in the same spot for nearly 10 minutes, not taking any notes or photos, but simply enjoying watching Soda Boyz play. Oops.

They weave between reciting their lyrics in a spoken word format over top of the music, to screaming chaotically down the microphone. All the while, with the most hauntingly beautiful tunes playing underneath it all. It’s what I describe as ‘sad music for people who aren’t sad.’ Or maybe people who are sad. It’s all inclusive.

Felix reminds us all why we’re at Whammy Bar – because they’re just released a split 7” release with Yukon Era – and he tells us how much he loves Yukon Era’s track, before Jules chimes in with “Gotta practice some self love! I love our track too!” Before winding on with the rest of the set. Jules introduces us at one point to a cover by his favourite band, but doesn’t tell us the name, nor the artist – and here in lies my only fault with the bands set – I wish that they had introduced more of their songs, as a few of them I hadn’t heard before, and would have loved to listen to again, but unfortunately (or fortunately) I’ll just have to make my way through their entire back discography (Vinyl and Cassette’s included) to find them.

The final act of the night is Yukon Era, and by now Whammy Bar is packed full with barely any space to move. “Hello, Hi, How are you going? We’re called Yukon Era!” Christian Dimick calls out to the crowd, “This song is called Feel!” – and right away we’re into it, with Dimick getting so into the music that even his guitar can’t keep up – resulting in the strap falling off and him having to play strapless for a few minutes. The whole room is buzzing, singing along and having a proper dance whilst the boys play along, and I’m impressed at how tight it all is – I’d been lucky enough to catch them opening for DMA’s in Wellington late last year, and thought they were incredible then – but a year on, and it was all even better.

The guitar troubles don’t stop there, as Lachie (Gnocchi) Thurlow soon finds trouble with his – “Just ask for a gat bro! Ask for a gat!” the boys taunt him, and he’s quickly lent one to use. As they announce that their next song is Vietnam Man, the crowd roars with applause – as this was one of their first tracks they released back in 2015, and so a lot of the long time fans in the crowd were stoked to hear it. Every word is echoed back to the band, and moving around in the crowd has now become a bit more of an ordeal – as everyone is too busy focussed on the stage to notice me trying to sneak around and take photos. Knife Skies is up next – “shout out to Matt Bidois!” a voice from the crowd calls out, and the band laugh, and echo his thoughts – as they thank Matt Bidois (The Leers - who wasn’t present on the night) for being in their video, and also Taylor Mansfield for directing it. The whole crowd applauds Mansfield, and Yukon Era dedicate the next song to him, before launching into it.

It’s rare to see a band so at home on stage as Yukon Era are, and perhaps its attributed to the venue, as they comment that Whammy Bar is their favourite bar. Plus they’re surrounded by a whole lot of old familiar faces – one even gives Thurlow a new name, taking his nickname from Chockey to Gnocchi – “Gnocchi’s not gonna stick!” Gnocchi cries, and bassist Pierre Beasley is quick to try convince him it will. Which the crowd is eager to back him up on, as the chant of “Gnocchi! Gnocchi! Gnocchi!” soon fills the room.

Dimick thanks us one last time for staying out and watching them play, quickly reminds us that they’re called Yukon Era (as if we weren’t already aware) – and they end the set with Tongue – to which my camera goes away, and I make the most of the last few moments at Whammy Bar.

All in all, it was an incredible gig, and I had to fight the temptation to buy a copy of their 7” split – as I would love to own a copy, but don’t own a record player. But if you do, then I’d highly suggest making a purchase of it ASAP.

YUKON ERA | SODA BOYZ | BEING. | PLAINES

Review + Photos by Mandie Hailwood

#yukon era #soda boyz #being #plaines #nz music #auckland #noise punk #post harcore #emo #music #hailtree #reviews #new zealand

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gigsoupmusic · 4 years

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The Flowers of Hell, Japanese Television, Sterling Roswell (28 Feb 2020)

Being the infidel atheists that we are, we normally only ever set foot in a church when someone gets married or dies, and lately it's been much more of the latter. So, it is largely thanks to musical events that we get our occasional ecclesiastical hit that doesn't involve being surrounded by family, whether dead or alive. Bit-Phalanx put on an amazing electronic festival last year in a church in Covent Garden, which you can read all about here. We were not expecting another chance to enjoy music inside a London church so soon. But, enjoy we did. Last Friday night we were congregated in the small but perfectly-formed St Pancras Old Church just north of the famous station named after it, looking forward to a triple bill of the Spacemen 3's ex-drummer Sterling 'Rosco' Roswell, current BBC6 darlings Japanese Television, and 'Lou Reed approved trans-Atlantic symphonic psych group' The Flowers of Hell.

Rosco's main percussionist had had to cancel last minute – let's just say it's a 'sign of the times' and leave it there – so Max Peak stood in on bongos, and started tapping away at them as Rosco kicked into his beautiful opening song, "Like Wild Horses".

"Heartbeat" was followed by his slightly off-the-wall "Nobody Loves the Hulk", and then into one the more recent tracks that we fell in love with when we first heard it a few years ago, "Atom Brain Monster", the lyrics of which Sterling has recently updated to refer to Boris Johnson instead of Tony Blair. We recorded the performance and would like to share it with you here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQSBpeXNUAo However, things sadly were not going well for our Rosco tonight as his string broke right in the middle of his next track, "Venus Honey Dew". It would have taken him at least twenty minutes to source and fix a new string and, whilst most of us there would have gladly waited to hear his classic "Give Peace Another Chance", which he was scheduled to sing next, it would not have been fair on the following act.

As we therefore do not have much more to add about Rosco's gig, we'd love you to read an article we wrote for GIGsoup about 'Being Sterling Roswell', following an interview with him in his studio last October. Next up were a very tight band from London called Japanese Television. We've been seeing their name a lot in the gig listings over the past year but this was our first chance to see them live. They are so different to everything else out there at the moment, so it is no wonder that they caught the eye of Marc Riley on BBC6. The tracks they recorded last July at the Marc Riley session have made it onto their new double-EP reissue, now available in all good record shops and which we were able to buy that night, the night before its official release!

But what makes Japanese Television so special? Well, for a start, there's no singer. And we like that, because it's different. Not having vocals means that the audience can really concentrate on the music, which is very surfy and very psychedelic. Not as surfy as, say, the Beach Boys, or as psych as say The Roaring 420s, but somewhere in-between, and without a singer. I think the best thing we can do here is to share here a bit of video we filmed. Here are two of their songs on one video – "Crocodile Dentist" (which, incidentally, was originally recorded for their EP in one take on an 8-track) and "Tick Tock". https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsGNCu4IR6I Before this they played most of their back catalogue, kicking off with "Lizard Moon", and then their brand new track "Moon Glider", which is so new it's not even on the new release! We loved how psychedelic "Mood Glider" was, and how it slowed down towards the end.

"Surfing Saucers" came next, which has a really good organ sound to it which just sounded perfect given the church setting. Which brings me onto the instruments. Tim Jones plays his pale-blue surf guitar in a very unique way, hoisted right up underneath his beard, which must not be comfortable! He plays in a slightly different tempo, it seems, to the rest of the band, which is a truly marvellous effect. Ian Thorn is on keyboards, but also uses a taishōgoto, which is a form of Japanese harp which first came out in 1912, and looks almost like something you would type on (in fact, these instruments are also collectively known as 'typewriter zithers'). The sound is, as you would expect, very Japanese. Just something else that marks out this band as being pretty unique.

Alex Lawton on bass and Al Brown on drums make up the remainder of the foursome. They were buried by the dark shadows at the back of the stage, but kept time immaculately. We chatted both to Alex and to Ian after the gig, such lovely chaps. We recommended they give Young Georgian Lolitaz a listen, and if they ever play a gig in the former USSR republic of Georgia they should get together, as we think they would merge and make some really nice spacey music! After a short break, it was time for the main event. But first, a bit of background knowledge about The Flowers of Hell. They were formed in 2005 and were mentored by Sterling Roswell's erstwhile bandmate from Spacemen 3, Pete 'Sonic Boom' Kember.

Their second album was Come Hell or High Water, and the album cover features in the Aubrey Beardsley exhibition which opens tomorrow 4th March at Tate Britain. This is going to be the largest exhibition of the late-Victorian artist's drawings for over 50 years, and The Flowers of Hell's album will feature among the exhibits, as an example of how influential Beardsley was, whose life was so sadly cut short by tuberculosis at the tender age of twenty-five. Other artists' albums featured at the exhibition include The Beatles, Procol Harum and Humble Pie, so The Flowers of Hell are in very good company indeed.

Toronto-born band-leader Greg Jarvis suffers from, or in his case is blessed by, a unique neurological condition called timbre-to-shape synæsthesia, which basically means that he sees all sounds as layers of three-dimensional shapes. He went on to found the Canadian Synesthesia Association in 2013. Whereas many albums from artists on the psych scene are influenced by visions from LSD and other psychedelics, Come Hell or High Water is actually based and arranged on Jarvis's synæsthesthetic visions, which is what makes his sound so very unique. There were thirty musicians performing on that album, recorded over a mammoth forty sessions in four different countries. Knowing how much Jarvis likes to surround himself with a crowd, we were not altogether surprised that we counted eight musicians on Friday's small stage – nine, if you include the contribution of Anna-Nicole Ziesche (on the left in the photo below), Hamburg-born visual artist and former alumnus of Central Saint Martins, who got up on stage to read out a German poem from 1955 that her mother had taught her, over a trumpet solo.

Jarvis was everywhere on stage. Sometimes playing keyboards, sometimes harmonica and, towards the end, at the front of stage on his trusted guitar. One of the three trumpeters who featured on the original Come Hell or High Water album was our taishōgoto-player from Japanese Television, and therefore was also on stage for The Flowers of Hell, as was a sax player, a violinist, a female singer who had a hauntingly angelic voice, and various other performers, most of whom were lost in the darkness at the back of the stage.

Back in the 90s, before The Flowers of Hell, Jarvis was living, among other places, in Prague, playing in various underground rock bands. They played their version of "Muchomůrky bílé", a protest song by Milan Hlasva, who was the original bassist and songwriter for PPU (Plastic People of the Universe), who were forbidden from performing this (or indeed any other song!) by the then Communist government, which was one of the many catalysts that spurred PPU fan Václav Havel in 1976 to create Charter 77 which took on the government and eventually lead to the Velvet Revolution in 1989. The rest, as they say, is history. To be honest, it's not our favourite song of The Flowers of Hell, and certainly the least psych, but we filmed it because it means so much to Greg Jarvis. Here is our footage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6CznGOsrR0 Far more atmospheric was the next song, "Pipe Dreams", which was truly quite beautiful, it made the hairs on our arms stand on end. The violin intro, the pipes, the singing, the slow introduction of the percussion, it all works so well together. We'll let you make up your own minds: https://youtu.be/bZF_5WmXxuo "The Joy of Sleeping" came next, which was a fantastic duel between the female singer's haunting voice, and Thorn's trumpet sounds, with violins and keyboards and guitar and percussion adding to the quite breathtaking sound. Here's the footage. Enjoy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsTvjcrWrME After a couple of other tracks, Jarvis took to the front of the stage, turned around, and literally conducted the band to play his very experimental piece which is largely made up of rehearsed improvisations. Originally, this piece lasts over 46 minutes long (it is a classic example of 'absolute' music, in other words, music that is not about anything in particular, and is a term first invented by Richard Wagner to describe this abstract, non-representational form). Jarvis's synæsthesia is largely helping him direct the band to perform the sound that he is seeing, in a really interesting symbiosis. We did not get the full 46-minute treatment (or else there's no way we'd have made the tube home), but we certainly got a good crack at it.

The song finally ended on a real crescendo, with Jarvis whirling his arms around like crazy. Imagine Pete Townshend meets Simon Rattle and you're halfway there.

Lou Reed was a big fan of The Flowers of Hell, so it is no surprise that the band always like to fit in at least one Velvet Underground or Lou Reed classic into their set. Their cover of "Heroin" had a great build-up with the drums and the violin, with Jarvis on vocals and playing guitar. As with "O", it had a really exciting and cacophonous dénouement. There was something nicely cyclical about the way the evening ended. Sterling Roswell, whose set had earlier been so cruelly curtailed by a broken guitar string, was encouraged onto the stage for the closing encore. He sat on drums and joined The Flowers of Hell on Spacemen 3's iconic hit from 1988, "Take Me to the Other Side". This was a real treat for us, and was the perfect end to the evening. We filmed it and we're delighted to be able to share it with you here, though unfortunately the drums were right at the back of the stage so you can't see Rosco, but you can certainly hear his trademark drumming style. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIbn0J9J-Os And that was the end of another epic night of great entertainment. Armed with a copy of Japanese Television's EPs, and with a bounce in our step, we bade our fairwell to the lovely church and the lovely musicians who had entertained us for the prior three and a half hours. We are also looking forward to The Flowers of Hell's new greatest hits compilation album called 15 Years of Soft Labour, which is coming out this summer. It is going to include a 10-minute extended version of "White Out", featuring the sadly recently deceased Ivan Král, who was Jarvis's mentor and 'rock'n'roll uncle' for the past two decades. We at GIGsoup would like to also pay our respects to Král, who played with and wrote music for so many musical greats, from Iggy Pop to David Bowie and Patti Smith, among many many more, and who lost his fight to cancer last month. Čest jeho památce. Read the full article

#GregJarvis #JapaneseTelevision #Rosco #SterlingRoswell #TheFlowersofHell

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chroniclesofawkwardness · 4 years

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Hurricane

For years, I was a night owl. When I started my second stint with the company I work for today, I worked a 1:30 PM to 10 PM shift as one of many people answering the phone if you called the number on the back of your debit card. I didn’t much care for the constant what-happened-this-time beep in my ear that meant another call had come through, but some days were better than others.

I enjoyed helping customers as long as what they asked me to do was within my power, but there were times I didn’t feel like listening to strangers’ life stories or treating their self-inflicted financial wounds. My schedule wasn’t ideal because I had to work one weekend day. Having a day off during the week wasn’t without its advantages, but it also meant trouble might find me at an unexpected time or place.

The first time I saw Kathy, I thought she looked like life had taken a lot out of her from behind the counter of the Circle K, but she was easy to talk to. She was blonde, thin but not sickly, and wore shoes that suggested she was accustomed to being on her feet most of the time. I guessed she was in her mid-forties. She was a nice departure from a lot of the women I saw at work every day. Of course, I couldn’t know exactly what was going on in a given woman’s life just by looking at her any more than she could know what was going on in mine. Still, it was hard to appreciate an individual woman’s beauty when most of them I saw towered over me in their high heels, flaunted legs that kept going until next Tuesday, and looked like they had trained with a Bloodsport-era, badass Jean-Claude van Damme, not the one content with starring in Tostitos commercials breaking chips instead of bones, and taking your place in your circle of friends. Kathy was different.

Maybe we got along because we were both night owls. Maybe it was because we both found ourselves doing things we never imagined doing when our parents asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Kathy told me she’d previously been a waitress at the Olive Garden. I told her how I was rebuilding my life and had had a literal pregnant pause between jobs once I’d come back from overseas.

Some nights, we’d talk long after she’d rang up my Combos and/or beef jerky. I’d offer general descriptions of the craziest recent customer interactions I’d experienced:

While working overtime one Saturday (a day I wasn’t even supposed to be there), I heard the beep of an incoming call in my ear, introduced myself, and offered to help, as was standard procedure. The guy on the other end of the line immediately started pulling his cheek back and forth. I could tell he’d moistened the inside of his cheek with spit (probably while listening to the preceding hold music) as an act of premeditation. His vagina song was broadcast directly into my ears and left no doubt he’d been watching too much porn and studying how to replicate the anatomical musical score with himself. Why he decided to share his concert with me, I’ll never know. Some things are best left unsaid.

When I asked Kathy what the strangest thing she’d ever sold someone was, she replied without hesitation: “I once had a guy come in here at three o’clock in the morning who bought condoms and bleach.”

I was left wondering why I’d even asked.

As much as I enjoyed conversations with Kathy, much briefer exchanges were the norm. The place was usually dead when I’d get there around 10:30 PM, but my arrival always seemed to trigger an avalanche of customers who urgently needed gas, cigarettes, or lottery tickets. I usually took the onslaught of humanity as my cue to exit stage right.

That’s how it went for us. That was our routine.

The first time I saw Ashley, she was telling Kathy about how much she missed. Kayla. Kathy introduced us and told me she used to work at the Olive Garden with Ashley. I was instantly glad I hadn’t earlier ridiculed the wardrobe of white shirts and solid, brightly-colored ties that waitstaff of the Olive Garden in required to wear, though I’d wanted to badly. Ashley talked about how she’d recently had an argument with her mother, whom she hated, and how her son’s father, then serving in the U.S. Navy aboard a ship somewhere off the coast of Greece, was an asshole.

I’m not sure if Ashley interpreted the fact that I asked her questions as a sign of genuine interest, or if I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As luck would have it, this was not one those nights when we were interrupted by strangers seeking swizzle sticks. She went on and on about how she missed Kayla. I just kept nodding, unsure of what else to do. I could have left at any time, but I was overcome with curiosity, as if I’d passed a really bad car accident, one that when you see it, you instantly ask yourself if somebody died. You feel bad for staring, but you can’t look away.

This carnage involved conversation instead of cars.

After an eternity of my unanswered prayers to be interrupted by a customer, Ashley suggested I join her for a drink. It was a Friday night and I didn’t have to work the next day, so against my better judgement, I agreed to go with her. She must have had to use the bathroom before we left; once Ashley was out of earshot, Kathy leaned over the counter and told me to be careful because Ashley may have already been drunk, high, or both. When we finally got into her car and pulled away from Circle K, I caught a glimpse of Kathy through the window, motioning to me with her hands as if putting on a seatbelt, reminding to me to do the same. She was trying to keep me safe with (or from) a woman I’d known for all of three hours.

Our first stop was a sports bar called The Crown, merely feet away from Circle K. Ashley ordered a Blue Mojito. I don’t remember drinking anything, but I do remember her taking my tie off without really asking if she could, and putting it around her neck as she continued to drone on about Kayla, her bitch of a mother, and her son.

Next, we went to a bar called the Keystone Pub and Patio. It had to have been around 2 AM; chairs were already turned upside down on top of tables when we walked in. Ashley must have known the bartender, who poured us shots of something that looked like Fireball. I don’t remember either one of us paying for them.

We were supposed to go to Waffle House after this, but that’s when shit got really weird. Ashley drove us there, but we sat in the parking lot for what felt like forever. We never made it inside. At one point, she just lost it:

Her: ”I miss KAYYYYYYLLLLLLAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Me: “Um…. I’m sorry for your loss. I can tell she meant a lot to you.

Her: “I wish I could just crawl down into her grave any lie beside HEEEEEERRRR!!!! Oh Gawd!!!”

Me: “Okay.”

Her: “Put your hand on my chest and feel me sing.”

Me: “Ashley, I don’t know if that’s such a good…”

Before I could finish my sentence, she grabbed one of my hands, placed it just above her breasts and held it there. The next song was I Believe You Liar by Australian singer/songwriter Washington. It started with a hauntingly beautiful piano intro, the kind that made me stop (despite the awkward position of my hand) and listen. The first verse is:

All the things you've said And things you've done I remember, in memoriam You said that you did But you did not Oh, you ache for something God knows what

I’d never heard the song before. Even now, I still can’t listen to it without thinking of that moment in Ashley’s car. The piano part still gives me goosebumps, the kind you get when a song truly captures your attention, the kind that form long before you’ve heard a song 500 times thanks to Top-40 radio, TV dramas, and being a resident of planet Earth. I haven’t heard I Believe You Liar anywhere near 500 times. I don’t want to. For some reason, I don’t want to spoil it despite the ridiculousness surrounding when I first heard it.

Once it became clear that we wouldn’t be going inside Waffle House, I was slightly pissed off. I was hungry, dammit. We'd been drinking, so the conditions were perfect; I’d heard most people only go there when they’re drunk anyway. But I wonder now if listening to Washington’s song wasn’t a better fit than intoxicated waffle consumption for what Ashley was going through. It’s easy for me to describe the absurdity of our encounter, but there may have been more to it. However demonstratively, Ashley was grieving, aching. for her friend who died unexpectedly. I just happened to meet her that night.

Ashley had been in my life for about eight hours when we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. The sky was starting to change color, signaling the beginning of a new day. I thought of a video game I used to play as a kid, Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest. One of the most annoying aspects of which is that you never knew when night was going to transition to day or vice versa.

If you were in a town when a transition to night happened, all the townspeople vanished, and you were faced with zombies that moved like rejects from Michael Jackson’s Thriller, plus bats you couldn’t even see coming because they blended in almost perfectly with the nighttime screen. When the lights went down in the city, you, Simon Belmont, the next in a long line of heroic vampire slayers, were reduced to jumping around whipping at shit in your 8-bit leotard while a soundtrack played that didn’t exactly inspire fear in, or of the undead.

Whether you were in town or out and about in the blocky wilderness, your only salvation from the darkness was another seemingly randomly timed pop-up box like this, which meant it was about to be daytime again:

I hated not knowing when day or night would come next. Even as a ten-year-old, the unpredictability made me nervous. You might say it was my first encounter with a pop-up ad, long before the modern incarnation those annoying little fuckers (or the option to skip ads) existed. This might be why I hate most ads to this day. Still, that night with Ashley, I actually prayed for the first time in my life that a Castlevania II pop-up would appear in the sky overhead, vanquish the horrible night, and send her back to wherever she’d come from.

Only that’s not what happened

II.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight,” she asked.

“Not at all (this night couldn’t possibly get any weirder),” I said.

We went upstairs and went straight to bed. I couldn’t sleep, and my occasional attempts to kiss Ashley didn’t escalate into anything more. I just tossed and turned, unable to sleep thanks to the alcohol and the stranger in my bed. Ashley didn't have any such problems.

After hours of restlessness, I gave up trying to sleep and decided to go about my normal Saturday routine, beginning with doing laundry. I tiptoed around to avoid waking Ashley, but this didn’t stop me from checking on her every few minutes to make sure she was still breathing. After she'd spoken so agonizingly about missing Kayla, I seriously believed Ashley could kill herself right there in my bed without a second thought.

She finally woke up in the middle of the afternoon. We sat on the couch and talked about books and what we wanted to do with our lives. I agreed to let her borrow my copy of Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and she said she let me borrow her copy of The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom. Notes from the Underground was one of those books I was supposed to read in college but never did. I was looking forward to reading it on my own time, when a requirement wasn’t hanging over my head. I’d read one of Mitch Albom’s other books, Tuesdays with Morrie, which heart-wrenching though it was, had been a fast read. I thought I could get through The Five People You Meet in Heaven quickly, and reasonably expect Ashley to finish Notes from the Underground in about the same amount of time. I figured we’d meet up after reading, give each other their book back, and that would be the end of it.

That’s not what happened either.

First, we drove to her mom’s house so she could pick up The Five People You Meet in Heaven. Ashley decided she was hungry, so we stopped at Wendy’s on the way back to my place. Eating fast food was a rare experience for me (but the whole night before had also been). Until 2017, I had no idea Wendy’s had a vanilla Frosty on their menu, an item that had already been around for more than a decade by the time I caught on. I’d had other things on my mind.

We went back to my place to exchange books and phone numbers. Ashley finally left at around 6:30 PM, capping a whirlwind twenty hours. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, or why, but it did happen.

I finished The Five People You Meet in Heaven in about a week, and texted Ashley to let her know I was looking forward to giving her back her book. I got a brief response like, “Hey” and something about her work schedule being crazy. At first I didn’t mind having her book (and not having mine), but as time passed, it started to bother me. Not a lot gets on my nerves, but two things that do are owing people money and having something that doesn’t belong to me. Every time I’d see Ashley’s book on my shelf, I’d think: “Man... I really should get that back to her.” Then a more basic thought would creep into my brain: “I hope she hasn’t made good on her desire to crawl down into the grave with Kayla. Fuck... I hope she’s still alive.”

Over time, my texts and her replies became more and more infrequent. I’d joke with Kathy that I was reaching out to Ashley once every season, just to prove to myself that I was still trying to do the right thing by returning her book. As the months passed, I started to just want my damn book back, and to give her hers so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

That’s how it went for me. That was my routine. Until the day she just showed up in my parking lot.

By September 2013, I’d found a job in fraud prevention. I jumped at the chance to learn something new without subjecting my ears to incoming vagina songs. I was still a night owl, but struggling to work at a pace that met the expectations of my new department. To help me acclimate, management had me do a few days of side-by-side training with a more experienced specialist. This meant I also got to temporarily change my schedule to a more traditional 9 AM to 6 PM.

For some reason, after working my temporary shift one day, I decided to walk through the rear parking lot of the complex instead of the front one. Then I saw her. She was in a car I didn’t recognize, but she was with two guys I did, from Circle K. The driver’s side door was open so she'd gotten a bit of a head start towards me before I realized what was happening. She ran into my arms and hugged me like I was someone she truly missed:

“Hiiiiiiiiiii!!!! I am SO sorry!!!!” She was practically squealing.

You’d have thought it had been only a week instead of nearly a year since I’d wished for the morning sun to vanquish that horrible night. All I could think was, “Finally! Here’s my chance to return her book and be done with this shit once and for all.” I’d aged almost 365 days since the last time I saw her, but Ashley must have thought I was elderly and feeble. She took me by the arm and helped me up the stairs and into my apartment. Once inside, she helped me take off my shoes and put on house slippers though I never asked her to.

“Ashley, what about your friends? Aren’t they still down there with the car running?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. They’re just down there smoking weed...”

’WHAAAAAAAAAA!?!?!?’

I have absolutely no problem with recreational marijuana use, but I also knew that if the cops showed up (seeing law enforcement officers driving up and down my street was not uncommon) and started asking Cheech and Chong questions about why they were there and who they were with, I wasn’t going down with them. Even in their intentionally altered state of consciousness, I was convinced they could still identify me.

I case you’re wondering, Ashley left before I had a chance to bring up the books. I think I’d pissed her off by talking shit about her to one of my neighbors that night without realizing she was close enough to hear me. I should have whispered like Kathy had the year before when she was sure Ashley was out of earshot.

Still got it.

I never heard from Ashley again. I haven’t reread The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and the piano in I Believe You Liar still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I’m okay with that. Why? Mitch’s book and Washington’s song make up the eye of Hurricane Ashley, a storm I won’t soon forget.

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mint-sm · 7 years

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LOS CAMPESINOS! REVIEW/ANALYSIS: Romance is Boring

Let’s talk about a word for a minute: Tryhard.

In an (at the time of writing at least) mildly recent interview with Noisey on the subject of this album, lead guitarist Tom Campesinos! (Tom Bromley) described “Romance is Boring” as “probably the most self-conscious record, and it's probably the most try-hard record as well,” describing it as a reaction to that whole “twee” and “pop” label they were most popularly recognized with from “Hold on Now, Youngster…”, and even after the release of “We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed.”

Like I said on my reviews of both albums, I feel that “Youngster” was an excellent release if only for the sound it ended up with, and not necessarily the band’s initial visions, which would then be addressed and accentuated in “Doomed,” which more clearly defined the groundwork that the band wanted to pursue underneath the indie pop exterior roof formed with “Youngster.” With this album, “Romance is Boring,” they definitely wanted to challenge that idea even further; become more experimental, create much more blaring, aggressive songs in unusual time signatures and beats, with more complex and detailed production alongside Gareth’s self-deprecatingly bitter, but intricate and atmospheric lyricism. In other words, “Romance is Boring” was a self-imposed challenge, and if they wanted to be “try-hard,” they succeeded.

At the same time though, Tom seemed to be somewhat disappointed about what the band would make in the future in comparison to this album, saying “I would never make songs like that again, at the moment I'm not in that frame of mind where I would, so when I listen to them I'm like 'shit I can't believe we made this'.” The sad truth about trying really hard to be as fucking wild and complex-sounding is that it might be something you never wanna try again because you might never, ever reach that adrenaline-fueled mindset you were in to originally craft it again in the future, and as we’ll discuss with “Hello Sadness” next time, reality just might hit you hard enough to stray away from that.

It’s a shame, but as an artist who often gets fatigued of just trying to work on a passion project for years that burns out for a while after releasing a thing, I can sympathize a bit. Creating and experimenting is very tough, and it takes a lot of time, and you will be often be surprised as hell by what you make in the end, but at the same time it can be really straining, only made bearable by sheer passion and emotion (mostly frustration, it sounds like) that, sad to say, can dissipate just like that, and getting it back isn’t something you can just “do.” And “Romance is Boring” is passionate and emotional, and the experimentation clearly did pay off, but was their process something they should be willing to go through again? Well, I don’t know Gareth and the band well-enough to decide for certain, but I’m gonna say… probably not?

CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?

But anyways, let’s talk about “Romance is Boring” itself. Simply put, as you probably might have inferred from other reviews, “Romance is Boring” is my favorite Los Camp record. They put a lot of fucking effort into this album, likely more than with any other record they’ve ever made, and it shows. It contains basically everything I think the band excels at, and even the parts it doesn’t normally do the absolute best in, they do exceptionally well here. Witty, poetic and dense lyrics, blaring, catchy, and diverse instrumentals, wild and conflicting yet consistent moods, and hauntingly vague but vivid imagery following and exploring complex and dissonant themes and narrative, such as the idea of falling in love, disappointing mental anguish, depression, creepiness, selfishness, bitter sarcasm, and regret, among others. It sounds a lot better than the emo shit it just came off as, honest.

The album is much more narratively flowing than “Youngster” or “Doomed,” and as you might expect from the title, it’s about romance, but not necessarily in a completely despondent way as it also might imply. While an overall theme it provides is one of dissatisfaction and heartbreak, once again, Los Camp’s ability to simultaneously yet fluidly meld together multiple diametrically opposed emotions shines through here.

The second track, “There Are Listed Buildings,” is a very good example of this, because the instrumentation is by far the poppiest and free-flowing track on this album, almost “Youngster”-ey in quality, with these cheery “BAH BAH, BAH BAH, BAH BAH BAH, BADDADA” choruses with what I think is a tuba or trombone, and just a wonderfully-sounding electric guitar riff pre-chorus, it all feels so bright and carnival-ly, and honestly, so are the lyrics, which are playful and strangely optimistic for the band. I think it’s about a like a couple deciding to actually pursue a relationship, with lyrics like “I think I'd do it for love, if it were not for the money / I'll take any scraps that you can give,” which is made honestly kinda cute and sweet-sounding in a sepia-tone, sarcastically hipster kinda way.

I REMEMBER BEING NAKED TO MY WAIST, THOUGH NOT IN WHICH DIRECTION

[YOU ARE A GLUTTON FOR LOVE, CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME ROMANCE? I'M A GLUTTON FOR SIN]

However, the opposing feeling from this song comes from the exact details and the context in which this song ends up in, because other lyrics seem to reflect more of this idea that the girl is actually really a little too desperate because “You dangle fishing line for crabs, but they're not interested / I'm your only bite,” which kinda reminds me of that XKCD comic discussing that “nice guy” that at first seems sweet and caring for a lonely girl but is actually disturbingly manipulative and creepy as shit (which some people unfortunately seem to unironically agree with). Plus, as was shown by Los Camp songs before and after, Gareth has simply never believed that “true love” exists, and this budding relationship is uh… yeah, it’s kind of doomed to not end well.

It’s made so much clearer with the song right after it, the title track, and I just love it for how utterly SPITEFUL it is. Whether these characters played by Gareth and Aleks are supposed to be the same throughout the entire album, I don’t know, but this relationship has gotten incredibly bitter and sarcastic, the instrumentation is so fucking blaring and distorted and crashy and violent at times, and the chorus features the band absolutely screaming “YOU'RE POUTING IN YOUR SLEEP, I'M WAKING STILL YAWNING, WE'RE PROVING TO EACH OTHER THAT ROMANCE IS BORING,” it’s so gleefully hateful. I don’t think I’ve heard many tracks of a mutually mentally abusive relationship that sounded this damn cathartic.

WE ARE TWO SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT

YOU AND I, WE ARE NOTHING ALIKE

I AM A PLEASURE CRUISE, YOU ARE GONE OUT TO TRAWL

RETURN NETS EMPTY, NOTHING AT ALL

Really, I could go on with these tracks all day and pick apart the little intricacies of each song to dissect how great each one is, because this is probably the absolute densest Los Camp has ever gotten instrumentally and lyrically. There’s so many little moments as to what makes every track work so much, and rarely is it just as straightforward as the title track, but even when it is, the production and poetry just feel so incredibly potent, it’s essentially like instead of listening to a song and being gradually surrounded by atmosphere, “Romance is Boring” fucking clocks you with it.

Just getting out of the way, I think maybe the least experimental track on this album is “Straight in at 101,” because instrumentally, structurally, it really does feel the most straightforward, even with little moments with like a sudden blast of distortion at one point or how it immediately goes from feeling bright and upbeat to somber, then complete silence as Gareth sings about how “the talking heads count down the most heart wrenching breakups of all time / imagine the great sense of waste, the indignity the embarrassment when not a single one of that whole century was mine.” It, and maybe “A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State; or, Letters from Me to Charlotte” are probably the most “standard-sounding,” or like baseline to Los Camp, which doesn’t mean they’re bad, but yknow.

I’d still consider it a very strong track because it’s still very consistent, it’s got a very continuous but evolving groove to it, and the lyrics are still jam-packed with wordplay and description that paint just this really fucking selfish, but also really kinda(?) sympathetic narrator, who makes his utter disappointment with what I’m assuming was a one night stand very clear. Los Camp is a very self-aware band and Gareth’s a very self-deprecating writer, but the way he manages to be both really ugly but astoundingly relatable, and also so mean-spirited to a point where you can’t help but really laugh at how much of a shit he is is kind of admirable.

I THINK WE NEED MORE POST-COITAL AND LESS POST-ROCK

FEELS LIKE THE BUILD-UP TAKES FOREVER, BUT YOU NEVER TOUCH MY COCK

AND WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU MEAN NOW BY, "WHAT CAN YOU EVEN EAT?"

AND HOW DOES THAT AFFECT HOW I'LL GET OFF THIS EVENING?

Two of the most unusual tracks that I both love from this album are “Plan A” and “I Warned You: Do Not Make an Enemy of Me” (goddamn that title just makes me so giddy for some reason), with “Plan A” being probably the harshest, off-sounding and most punk-like track Los Camp has ever recorded, with its atonal, distorted mashing chords and screaming call/response vocals (it’s so fn weird hearing Aleks sound panicked and frantic, but goddamn I miss her) before suddenly segueing into like this sing-songy, but still distorted and oddly free-flowing, almost twee-like chorus, and “I Warned You” sounding so stilted and awkwardly tense yet cheery with its weird tempo and beat shifts, almost feeling kinda outsider-music-y at times.

BROKE DOWN LAUGHING AND SCREAMING FOR MORE

BUT IF THIS CHANGED YOUR LIFE, DID YOU HAVE ONE BEFORE?

Another personal favorite track is the intro, “In Medias Res,” which starts off the album just perfectly, starting with like these gentle, but already kinda already compressed and messy acoustic guitar chords before slowly building up into this like surprisingly reverbed, ethereal and charming instrumental, with a backing that almost sounds like it came from like a shoegaze or dark dream pop track, but with like this really, dreamy and cute duet vocals and glockenspiel. It sounds so oddly saddening yet so weirdly uplifting, especially with that little breakdown near the end with all the distortion effects placed against the glockenspiel, keyboards and brass; I’m pretty sure you can hear at some points Gareth screaming some lines, but it’s so blended-in with the instrumental, but it sounds kinda… beautiful.

And the lyrics, oh god, the lyrics. For some reason, the first and last lines just have so much damn atmosphere loaded into something that just feels so… simple. I can’t explain it without the context, but the very first line, “But let’s talk about you for a minute,” just really gets to me for some reason, probably because within this album itself, it just says so damn much about its themes, that while incredibly toxic and awesomely angry at times, can also get really intimate, melancholy, and depressing, especially with the song’s outro lines:

“IF YOU WERE GIVEN THE OPTION OF DYING PAINLESSLY IN PEACE AT FORTY-FIVE, BUT WITH A LOVER AT YOUR SIDE, AFTER A FULL AND HAPPY LIFE, IS THIS SOMETHING THAT WOULD INTEREST YOU? WOULD THIS INTEREST YOU AT ALL?”

Keep in mind, Gareth believes that true love doesn’t exist.

And in a really cruel reality, despite how playful, giddy and sarcastic or self-deprecating it can be dancing around the topic, Los Camp STILL can’t prove to us that heartbreak, however, isn’t anything but incredibly real. The final 3 tracks on this album (not counting the bonus track, “Too Many Flesh Suppers”) perfectly reflect this mindset.

The fan favorite “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future” is simply put Los Camp’s most beautiful, poignant track they’ve ever made (and also one of the most devastating and emo), and it serves as one hell of an emotional climax for the album. While Los Camp hasn’t really been one for imagery and instead prefers mood most of the time, this track is the perfect marriage of the two; everything about it just seems to paint this incredibly vivid mindset about a depressed, suicidal and utterly broken lover (if it’s the same one from “There Are Listed Buildings,” it’s even more so), who I can just imagine is like sitting on the far end of a dock on a very gloomy beach with gray overcast and an sea, maybe like rocking her legs back and forth sitting on the edge with her feet just touching the salt water as she just stares hopelessly out onto the endless horizon. Y’know, happy stuff.

The lyrics on this track are just some of the most utterly concise and madly specific descriptions Gareth’s ever written, with simultaneously pointless yet (ugh I normally hate this word in this context but) deep and precise lyrics, and Gareth’s vocal delivery just slowly escalates to this heartfelt, like pouring-out-his-soul-in-desperation, perfect climax. Everything about this track just works, and it plunges you into this visceral, atmospheric world of gray skies, salty seas and contemplation, where it really does feel like that the sea is a great place to think of the future… or maybe a lack of one.

SHE SAID ONE DAY TO LEAVE HER, SAND UP TO HER SHOULDERS, WAITING FOR THE TIDE

TO DRAG HER TO THE OCEAN, TO ANOTHER SEA'S SHORE, THIS THING HURTS LIKE HELL...

BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT!?

But like I said, Los Camp likes to dance around these sort of maudlin themes, and immediately after one of the bleakest tracks they’ve made, we suddenly get more cheery, upbeat, and snide in “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” whose first lyrics are literally the band shouting “CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?”, singing another almost-kinda-sorta indie-twee track about a couple stupidly in love, but we all know that it’s all unhealthy and it’s going to end poorly, right? Like, any song about love that has the chorus “The story of the winter I forgot how to speak, my mind was like a nation's flag but my breeze was too weak / How they dragged me to the hospital saying I had gone deaf / But I heard everything they said, it's just I had no interest,” no matter how crowd-pleasing and roucous and glockenspiel-accompanied it sounds, can’t have a story that ends well, right?

Well, considering how the album ends with “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,” a much slower, a lot more ethereal-sounding ballad with the lines “Run the water 'til it scalds, you know that I'm listening / Pitter-patter runs the shower, hits the bare porcelain” and “I fall to my knees, my piss-soaked jeans / The first time, the last time, all the times in between”... it’s probably safe to assume yes, it didn’t. Actually, considering “The Sea is a Good Place” and the chillingly repeated outro of “I CAN’T BELIEVE I CHOSE THE MOUNTAINS EVERY TIME YOU CHOSE THE SEA,” it probably ended VERY horribly. And… that just fucking sucks, you know?

Goddamn, there’s still so many tracks I didn’t cover, but damnit, if I make this any longer, this is gonna just turn into a track-by-track thesis paper, since there’s just so much to talk about. These are basically the major elements I love the most and find the most worth-addressing, but the thing is that this entire album feels worth addressing, because once again, it’s just so damn packed with just about everything I feel makes an album work in my eyes. There’s not a single track that’s not worth analyzing and appreciating, but christ, there are only so many hours in the day! D:

BY NOW IT'S JUST THE THREE OF US

ME, YOUR SHADOW, YOUR ECHO

“Romance is Boring” is just a fantastic album. It manages to contain all of the things I feel an album needs to be heavily engaging, and the fact that most of them came from a band who normally doesn’t do that great in some of those aspects such as actual concrete description or instantly recognizable context makes this feel all the more surprising and welcoming.

And that’s where it all comes down to: it is just really, really engaging. It’s powerful without being overbearing, it’s noisy while being incredibly and consistently precise, it’s descriptive while being pretty accessible, and it’s varied but also manages to maintain a consistent sound Los Camp have finally pinpointed down as that which can be identified as uniquely their own. It plays up the band’s unique strengths just enough that you never feel alienated or feel forced or anything like that, and not only is it as adventurous as the band might ever get, it’s one hell of a fucking adventure. Hail try-hardiness. (5/5)

...So what happens now?

FAVES: “In Medias Res,” “There Are Listed Buildings,” “Romance is Boring,” “We’ve Got Your Back,” “Plan A,” “Straight in at 101,” “Heart Swells/100-1,” “I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know,” “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future,” “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,”

#los campesinos #romance is boring #music review

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