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uwuwriting · 4 years

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Moments in the life of Y/N L/N

Okay this is LONG. I kid you not it took me like a week to write and I’m so proud of it. It’s a Shirakumo x Reader fic but Shirakumo makes a cameo like three times??? Yall seemed to like the hc with his daughter so here is a some insight in her life and the reader’s. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warning: blood, description of injuries, angst, mentions of death and unplanned pregnancy, some fluff here and there.

Age 17

They were dancing in his living room. They were having a sleepover just like they did when they were kids and their parents would let them live in each other’s houses for days. Music was being blasted from the speakers of her phone as he was twirling her around his room. Giggles filled the space between them as the exchanged warm smiles and lovestruck looks. The song came to an end but they didn’t part from each other. Laying her head on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat strong and steady against her ear.

“I could dance with you all day.” she whispered so lowly he barely caught her words.

“Save your energy for our wedding day baby girl.” he smiled down at her, leaving a peck on the crown of her head. “I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Shirakumo.”

“Yeah I bet by how much you talk about it you dumb cloud. Let’s finish high school first though.” she rested her chin on his chest, their gazes meeting as she matched his soft smile with one of her own. “I don’t want to be that weird married couple that is still in high school.”

“Well we are 17 baby.” he pushed her lightly off his chest, bringing his hand to rest on her cheek. “We can start a family by the time we are 20. I will have opened the agency with Shouta and Hizashi by then.”

She laughed softly at his words, the future they had in front of them seemed so bright so perfect. Too perfect to be true. As they swayed lightly from side to side neither of them knew what awaited them. How the future they had dreamt together would soon be shattered to millions of pieces.

Age 20

She was sleeping soundly in her crib. It had been such a challenge to get her to bed that night. The strong winds hitting the house and the howls as they passed by scared the poor three year old to the point that even her mother's embrace couldn’t calm her down. Sky always loved looking at the sky, not only because she would joke that she was looking at herself but also because she got so mesmerized by the clouds. They never scared her, not even when they became dark and angry lightning spewing from deep within them. Storms never scared her. But wind terrified her. The howling and the sheer strength they hold sends shivers down the poor girl’s spine.

“You really are a handful you know…” Y/N was still in her baby’s room, staring at the ball of light blue hair as she slept soundly. She loved her daughter with her whole being. Sky was her world. She had managed to feel the void that he left behind. She was the reason why Y/N was able to pull herself out of her grief. She was the reason why Y/N found purpose in her life again. His death was the point of no return for her. Accompanied by the sudden revelation of her pregnancy, the emotions had become too much. Too intense for her to handle. She had considered dropping it. Ending the life they had created short. She was scared and alone, grieving for the lost of her love and everything seemed like a black hole, sucking her in. But she kept the baby and she couldn’t imagine her life without her little girl. It had been almost three years since he left this world and despite it all, it hurt just the same.

Age 23

“Mama, who is that next to you?” Y/N had been typing mindlessly on her laptop for the past hour now. A magazine had asked her to write some exclusive descriptions for some of her photos that they were using. She had come to realize that being a professional photographer was a really hard job. But she was managing. ‘This is a talent Y/N! Look how cool I seem in this one. We are definitely hiring you as our personal photographer when we open the agency!’ Small hands placed a photo on her lap. Sky had been flipping through old photo albums while her mother worked. She seemed to be really interested in her mother’s old albums.

Now Y/N had come face to face with a memory she had buried deep in her mind. One she wished to never let go of but simultaneously never wanted to relive. Oboro had taken her to a water park for their anniversary. It had been a school day and they had agreed to just skip class and enjoy their day together. She had bought him a Polaroid camera so he could take photos with his friends. She hadn’t met them, their schedules never matching. He had insisted that the very first memory he would make was with her and once the photo had been printed he had given it to her.

“That’s…” Sky saw the color from her mother’s face drain and she promised to herself that very day that she would never bring this up again. If it hurt her mom it wasn’t worth it. “That’s your daddy.”

Age 26

Her little girl was about to turn 10. In a few days they would be celebrating her birthday and Y/N couldn’t help but feel sad. She could remember the first time she held her as if it was yesterday. She was in a very bad place back then. Sky was the only ray of light in her life. Moving to another country after the death of the father of her child was a handful for the young mother. But now, after almost a decade in America, she could say with confidence that their lives were pretty good.

Sky had gotten into martial arts really early on and now could beat anyone up if she wanted, that’s what her two friends said at least. If you asked her however, she would raise her right arm which was broken. I get my butt kicked, no thank you. In truth her arm hadn’t been broken while she was practicing. She broke it on her way to practice but she still blamed the sport for her misfortune. A cat was stuck on a tree and she tried to free it, by climbing on the tree herself. Everything was fine until the branch she was sitting on broke and she came crashing down. Sure she could have used her quirk, make a small cloud and save herself but she prioritized the salvation of the cat. Her mother wasn’t happy when she found out. Now Sky had to learn to do everything with her left hand for the next two-three months.

“Hey baby, I’ve got something for you.” Y/N picked her head inside the room, her hands behind her back holding onto a small box.

“Mom my birthday is in two days, can’t you wait?” Sky laughed at her mother’s antics. Sitting down next to her, Y/N brought the box to her daughter’s lap waiting for her to open it. Opening it she was met with a pendant. It had a short chain and a small turquoise stone in the middle. Fiddling with it, Sky felt three engravings on the back.

“It has our initials on it.” Letting out a sigh she pet her daughter’s hair. “It was originally mine with only two engravings but now I’ve added yours as well.” Sky knew who must have given it originally to her mom. She was a smart girl after all, it didn’t take much for her to realize who she was referring to. Launching herself at her mom, she wrapped her arms around her neck burying her face in her hair. Silent tears fell from her eyes. It had been some time since not having him around got to her. She had grown to realize that he was gone and she could do nothing to bring him back. When she was younger, not having a father would usually bug her when she saw others with their dads but her mother helped her bury the feeling.

“A little gift from your daddy.”

Age 29

Middle school wasn’t that bad. Now in her first year, Sky was doing pretty well. She would rant to her mother about some of her classmates using their quirks and being obnoxious to those who had lesser ones or none at all. Y/N had agreed to her abandoning martial arts and now she is learning volleyball. They were happy. Deciding for a career had never been a topic they had dwelled upon. Y/N wasn’t worried, her little girl was still young and she had a few years before she would have to start considering her options.

“Someone from a hero school in Japan came to our class today.” They were eating dinner and talking about their day. Y/N’s first thought was UA. It was the most prestigious school specializing on the hero department back when she was still in Japan. Maybe it was still and they came here to debrief the kids on what the school could provide. Or maybe it was another school. “This lady came to talk to us about hero work and what not. She was dressed weird, said she was a hero who graduated from that school herself.” Y/N had always feared that her daughter would fall into the path of heroism. She wouldn’t- couldn’t hold her back. Her job as a mother was to support and protect. But how could she protect when her baby runs into danger without a second thought? How could she support when she has experienced first hand what the hero world can take from you? How could she be there for her baby if she was afraid that history would repeat itself, snatching the last light in her life away from her?

“I think I want to be a hero.”

Age 32

The call had been short. She hadn’t let them explain everything, just where her little girl was hospitalized. Her baby. Her life. She knew it would lead to this. To her baby being on the brink of death. She didn’t get the details. A large attack had taken place at a hospital and many heroes had been called in, students amongst them as well. Many of those said heroes had been gravely injured or had passed. The villain was said to be ruthless, unforgiving to both the heroes and the surrounding area. It was a tragedy. You have lived through one too many tragedies, she thought to herself as she rushed through the airport. She had gotten on the first flight to Japan and after an agonizingly long journey she was finally here. Hang in there baby please hang in there.

The taxi arrived at the hospital in an hour. It was packed, swarming with the relatives and friends of the heroes injured in the attack. Soon she spotted a group of kids with the familiar UA uniform. How long had it been since she last saw that uniform in real life? How long since she had been in a similar situation? Would it really end like his story did? Would she really lose the last remnant of him in this world? No! Sky’s story is different from Oboro’s. Sky is different from Oboro. Her baby would survive.

Pushing through the small crowd she spotted a doctor.

“Excuse me I’m looking for L/N Sky, she’s a student at UA.” The man looked at her and looked down at a clipboard, scanning through the names of the many patients.

“Room 573.” And with that he left her in the hallway with no update on Sky’s state, nothing. Looking at the numbers on the side of every room, she searched for it. This was too familiar. Too similar to that day. She didn’t like it.

568. He’s in critical state.

569. It seems he received severe head trauma from falling debris.

570. We don’t think he is going to wake up.

571. He has a few hours.

572. I’m sorry for your loss.

“Are you here for Cosmic Cloud?” A blond man asked behind her. Her breathing was becoming erratic at this point. “L/N Sky, are you here for her?” His voice was rough, barely over a whisper. “Hizashi Yamada, I’m one of her teachers.” She remembered that name, one of Shirakumo’s friends. She nodded not able to find her own voice to respond. Her panic rose at his clouded expression, his eyes losing the little spark they previously had. “I’ll find you her doctor, you can go in.” And with that he left too.

Pushing the door open she was met with the sight of her daughter, her body was full of bandages, tubes coming from her arms as multiple medicines dripped into her veins. Her heart monitor was steady, a strong beep every second. She had a bandage covering her right eye which was stained a faint red. The air caught in her throat at the sight. It was the same image she was met with 15 years ago. A soft knock came from the door behind her that wasn’t completely closed as she was still frozen on the spot.

“Mrs. L/N?” it’s the doctor and behind her stands Sky’s teacher. “Your daughter is sadly in really bad shape. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Her right ankle was broken from some rubble while the visor broke while she was still wearing it, thankfully she didn’t lose her eye but it will certainly leave a scar. Her left hand was slashed from elbow to wrist by a sharp object. The worst damage is on her back.” Hizashi was supporting her now, hands on her shoulders holding her up as tears cascaded down her cheeks. How can there be worse damage after all of this? “During the attack she must have been hit by some sort of blade or sharp edge, it pierced her back in three places. We managed to stitch her up but as you can imagine the damage cannot be undone.She... She’s in a coma from the shock, I’m sorry. I’ll..I’ll be around the corner if you need me.”

A coma. Her little girl was in a coma. This was it. This was were she would lose her too.

“She was conscious when the medics found her.” Hizashi said. “She was stopping the bleeding of one of her classmates completely ignoring her own.” He paused looking at the hospital bed, his eyes catching a glimpse of the sky blue hair. “They are very alike y’know. A carbon copy both physically and in personality. While she was in my class it was like having Oboro next to me again.” She snapped her head up meeting his eyes that were brimmed with tears. He had figured it out ages ago it seems. Whispering a small apology she turned back to the bed, fresh tears wetting her blouse.

“I know you are going enough already but….” He sighed pinching his nose a frown making its way on his face. “But you need to know, YOU deserve to know.”

“Oboro is alive.”

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TAG TEAM AY: @brattyquirks @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei

#shirakumo #shirakumo x reader #mha shirakumo #shirakumo oboro #shirakumo oboro x reader #angst #fluff #shirakumo angst #bnha angst #bnha fluff #bnha

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rustbeltjessie · 4 years

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Diary of an Emotional Masochist, Chapter One: Dignity and Shame

I am an emotional masochist. I’m the kind of person, who, when I’m already going through a bout of nostalgic melancholy, will decide to read old journal entries or look through old photographs. The kind of person who, when it’s three a.m. and I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about what loves have come and gone (to borrow a phrase from Edna St. Vincent Millay), will get up and Google search those loves. I am the kind of woman who, when I’m already sad, will listen to an album that devastates me. I have a long list of albums that it’s almost too painful to listen to, albums that remind me of such specific times in my life that listening to them takes me right back to where I was then. A different person would purge their record collection and iTunes library of such albums, but, like I said – I am an emotional masochist. On lonesome evenings, after a couple glasses of whiskey, nothing sounds better to me than spinning one of those records (or queueing up one of those playlists). This is one of those lonesome-whiskey evenings, so won’t you join me in indulging? We’re listening to Crooked Fingers’ Dignity and Shame.

From the first sparse, haunting notes of “Islero,” I am transported back in time to the summer of 2005. God, that summer. That terrible, wonderful summer. I’d fucked up my life the year before, and I thought that would be the summer I’d fix it, except all I did was fuck it up even more. God, that summer. That March, I moved away from Chicago after living there for five years. I planned on moving to Milwaukee come autumn, to start fresh in a fresh town. In the meantime, I moved back in with my parents. I wasn’t home, much. Nights, after work, I went to one of the two bars in Kenosha where all my sad drunk hoodlum friends hung out. On days off, I walked in the woods – the heat was relentless, and the canopy of trees offered cool green comfort. Or I drove to Chicago to see shows and drink with my friends and try to remember why I’d left; drove to Milwaukee to scope out neighborhoods, sit for hours at the Hi-Fi Cafe, go record and dress shopping. On one of my record shopping expeditions, I bought Dignity and Shame. It was on the Staff Recommendations shelf, and I liked the cover art, so I took it home with me – and it was serendipity, it was exactly the album I needed at the time.

As soon as I got home, I set it spinning on my turntable, and the first track – “Islero” – gave me goosebumps. The second track – “Weary Arms” – made me cry. It had sad cellos and a lonesome cowboy guitar, and Eric Bachmann’s voice was a raspy baritone: Beware of strangers knocking at your door. Old lovers, too. Don’t think for one second they’ve forgotten you. Oh, oh, oh. By the time the final, hidden track played, I’d melted into a puddle of tears and goosebumps on my bedroom floor. The album destroyed me, and it spooked me because so many of the stories sounded like things right out of my life, both from that year and six or so years before it. It was like Eric Bachmann had read my diary and set it to music. I wanted to write him a letter and say: “Get out of my head, god damn it! Get out of my aching heart.” It’s impossible for me to write about Dignity and Shame, or about the summer of 2005, without descending into hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. My God, that summer was hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. I was still young enough that it was acceptable to feel things that intensely, acceptable to talk about a sunrise over Lake Michigan by saying things like: “When the light shot through the horizon in streaks of peach and gold, it was the most god damn beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Dear diary, listen to me.

My “Weary Arms” wrapped tight around so many lovers, that summer – four of them, plus a handful of brief flings. Later that year, I lamented that I hadn’t had as many wild love affairs as I’d had in years past, which, yes, says something unflattering about me. And Eric Bachmann sang: You have many enemies, for reasons no one’s certain of.

One night, while I sat at one of the bars and waited for my friends to arrive, a girl approached me. I didn’t know her, but she knew me. She sat down across from me and lambasted me for sleeping with a guy she’d been dating at the time…two years before. She called me a slut, and some worse things. I wanted to buy her a drink, to appease her. I couldn’t understand why she hated me so much. When I slept with that guy, I had no idea he had a girlfriend. So many enemies, so many lovers, but could a jaded girl like me heed an uptempo “Call To Love?” In that song, Eric took the role of a particular one of my lovers, and said: Won’t you hear my heart? I’m transmitting a call to love. On a night when the moon was orange-red and luminous, that lover said: “The moon is the color of your hair.” Another night: “You were born in the wrong era, Jess.” And, though I was a sucker for sentimental poetry, my guard was up. Lara Meyerratken answered for me: Don’t need my heart kicked ‘round the block no more. You may be smooth-talking, daddy, but I’ve heard it all before. I traded gossip with the “Twilight Creeps.” In this sweet-sad song with the bright piano and the shimmering backup vocals, I was both the singer and the sung about. I could have sung it to one of my lovers, should have said to her: Flower, don’t dig so deep so you don’t go anywhere. But the words were also about me: You say someday you’re gonna float away. Take yourself some kind of holiday. I often told my sad drunk hoodlum friends, the twilight creeps, that I needed to get the hell out of town. “If I could just get gone for more than a few days, go somewhere more than a few hours away…there ain’t no use in trying to make me stay.”

My lovers all wanted to make me stay. The flower-girl, I’ll call her Valerie. The one who spoke poetic words to me, I’ll call him Jack. And there was Lon, and Carmine. In different ways, for different reasons, they each wanted me to choose them over all the rest. Even a few of the week-long flings and one-night stands, older punk guys or younger hippie girls, said things to me like: “How did I get so lucky as to meet a girl like you?” Or: “So, are you my girlfriend now?” And when I said no, they called me a heartbreaker. A “Destroyer.” It’s a woebegone cowboy of a tune. Doleful drums, piano that tinkles like ice cubes in a bar glass, and a lap steel guitar – which, as far as I’m concerned, is the aural equivalent of an anti-hero walking off into the sunset. The song is all about how the singer is going to make someone his, and then he’s going to leave them behind. When they called me heartbreaker, I wanted to sing it: Lay down, just let it come, and resign your heart, today, to get blown away. “Valerie,” well, that’s why I’m referring to that lover as Valerie. Much like me, she was a punk rock girl turned heroine of a Tom Waits song (heroine of a Crooked Fingers song). She had thriftstore dresses and jailhouse tattoos and self-inflicted scars. “Valerie,” the song, has a sanguine strut, is a besotted love song, and I thought of Valerie, the girl: Red roses, silk, you in your sleek summer dress. You were light, revelation, oh, I love you the best. But she and I kept our love unspoken. We both had other romantic complications, and only touched each other on long hot nights after too many bottles of wine and too many pills. “Sleep All Summer” was my song for Jack, the young ex-goth whose mouth was pink and pouty like he’d been sucking on a strawberry popsicle. Our love was either all the good songs and kissing ’til our lips were raw, or it was screaming matches and hangover headaches. What bliss is this, and then he’d get attention-starved and whiny, and I’d burn hot and cold and say nasty things, and we’d say: “This is it, we’re through.” But – There ain’t no way we’re gonna find another, the way we sleep all summer. Why won’t you fall back in love with me? And we’d run into each other at the bar, and faster than our friends could say I told you so we’d be tangled up in the backseat of his car or rolling around by the lake, and the whole thing would start all over again. He’d play the martyr, and I’d say: I would change for you, but babe, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be a better man.

And “Coldways” kill cool lovers. Lon was a folk singer from the north woods. He’d been one of my best friends for years already, and when we started dating I was so tired of complicated, fiery relationships that I mistook comfort for True Love. My heart still hurts when I think of how I hurt him. He wanted me to marry him and I just wanted to be drunk and in love, to listen to “Coldways”’s thrumming, swelling sound. To sing along: Come out, come on, tonight the city’s alive. “Wrecking Ball” has a jaunty, punchdrunk piano, and the piano had been drinking, but so had I. God, I drank so much that summer. On the rare night I spent at home, I holed up in my room, wrote long, sad, tales of people in the legend of my life, and drank blackberry brandy mixed with Sprite. Something like that would taste over-sweet to me now, make me shudder, but maybe the same part of me that craved sentimental poetry also thirsted for sugary drinks. And most nights, I wasn’t at home. Most nights, I changed clothes in my car after work. I swapped my reeking-of-pizza button down shirt and black slacks for one of my vintage dresses. A mint green confection, or a pink and white sundress. Something from the ‘50s, blue with red and white polka dots, or a slinky black number that a ‘30s jazz singer would have worn. And I sat at one of two bars, drank whiskey and Coke, or brandy old-fashioneds, or gin and tonics all night long. I waited for my friends to arrive, and I drank and smoked and entertained myself with one of the items I always had in my bag – a book of poetry by Dorothy Parker or Edna St. Vincent Millay, a deck of Alice In Wonderland tarot cards. And sometimes, someone would find me intriguing. I swear, I wasn’t a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but… I was a redhead in a retro dress (usually with a strand of fake pearls, too) sitting in a dive bar, smoking pastel-colored cigarettes, reading sonnets and tarot cards. Christ. Often, someone found me intriguing, chatted me up, and I wound up with yet another lover. I was a destroyer, destroying myself with booze and love. I was a wrecking ball. Eric Bachmann, accompanied by that barroom piano, sang: And you laughed and you danced, and it let you feel fine for a while. Hanging out with the kids who you knew soon would fall out of style.

I’ve left two songs out, dear diary. I did it on purpose, because they are the two that hurt the most. They are also the two that heal the most. The kind of songs that make me weep, then tell me to dry my tears. “You Must Build A Fire,” oh, it is one of the saddest songs. It begins with only two guitars (a finger-picked lead and that god damn lap steel again), and Eric’s voice is so plaintive, sounds like it’s about to crack, and he sings: Oh, gracious love, you were so kind to me. You only broke my heart, let my arms and legs stay strong. So I could swim upon the open sea, searching for another love. Floating along aimlessly. I haven’t told you about Carmine, yet. Carmine was a musician who looked like a magician from an old-time carnival. The year before, he’d ruined me in a worse way than any other lover ever had. (As a friend put it, he was one of the ones who fucked me up so bad I was pretty much ruined for anyone else.) He ruined me, but I let him back into my life. That summer, we got together. It was supposed to be closure, but of course it just opened everything up again. He said: “I want to be with you. I want to try again.” I said: “Okay, yes, let’s start over. I want to be with you.” He said: “Only if you break things off with all your other lovers. I want to be your only.” The nerve, giving me an ultimatum like that when he was even more of a notorious libertine than I was. And the song sang: I had someone, a love I thought was true. But sometimes you just get tired, and you must try not to die. And give your love, though no one may receive. You must build a giant fire, for the whole wide world to see. It sounded like that whole heartbroken, hot summer. Oh, where are you, love?

The title track, “Dignity and Shame,” is a piano ballad that told me: To be sure, there ain’t no cure. There could be no one to save you. It is the track I return to over and over, more than any other track on the album. Though my life has calmed down a lot in the decade since that summer, sometimes – that feeling comes, you’ve been here once before. That wicked feeling you don’t want to feel no more. And then, Eric Bachmann (get out my head, god damn it!) sings: You’re not the same as the day that you came. You can choose dignity, or shame.

I choose dignity. I carry my broken heart like a torch in the night. Little keeper of light, burning deep, burning bright in the dark.

[originally appeared in Witchsong in October 2015]

#jessie lynn mcmains #my writing #music #memoir #crooked fingers #dignity and shame #2015 #2005 #love #lovers #heartbreak #panic attacks #drugs #alcohol #lyrics #this is still one of my favorite pieces of music writing i've ever written #and since witchsong has gone dark i thought i'd share it here

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killorbekillian · 4 years

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was tagged by @ybcpatrick to post my top 9 favorite albums, and then i let it sit in my drafts for days (whoops)

it’s hard to narrow down! I tried to pick only one album per band. for muse it was really a toss up between the resistance and black holes and revelations, but the resistance was the first cd i ever bought with my own money, so it has a special place in my heart.

i put alt text on the images so you can click through and see what they are

gonna tag @spook-queen @dramaticallydepressed @haleyocentrism @judasdecapitated @alterboyx @obvzmagalikekravmaga @terriblethrillssss and @sabcatt

#killer filler

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grigori77 · 5 years

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Soundtrack of my life ...

the ten bands and recording artists that have most influenced me, my life and everything about me ...

(as usual, in no particular order)

TOOL

fave tracks: Forty Six & Two, Ænema, Stinkfist, Schism, The Grudge, Lateralus, Reflection, The Pot, Right In Two, Vicarious, Jambi, Rosetta Stoned

fave album: Lateralus

exquisite complexity in musical form, truly epic soundscapes and a pulsing, building intensity of sound. NOBODY does opening tracks better than these guys.

NINE INCH NAILS

fave tracks: Wish, Closer, Happiness in Slavery, the Perfect Drug, Gave Up, Head Like a Hole, Survivalism, Less Than, The Hand That Feeds, Just Like You Imagined, The Hand That Feeds

fave album: Broken (technically an EP, but still ...)

Trent Reznor is a genius. Discordant soundscapes and tortured vocals, an almost painful industrialized percussive pulse and moments of sudden, unexpected beauty. There’s a reason his music gets used SO MUCH in trailers ...

QUEEN

fave tracks: (too many to name, but most of all ...) Brighton Rock, One Vision, Who Wants to Live Forever?, Innuendo, Seven Seas of Rhye, Is This the World We Created?, Under Pressure, Radio Ga Ga and, of course, Bohemian Rhapsody

fave album: A Night at the Opera (and also Sheer Heart Attack)

Quite simply they were the best band in the world. EVER.

MUSE

fave tracks: Sing for Absolution, Map of the Problematique, Plug In Baby, Citizen Erased, Dead Inside, Time Is Running Out, Knights of Cydonia, Hysteria, Butterflies & Hurricanes, Reapers, Sunburn, Uno, Thought Contagion, Get Up & Fight

fave album: Black Holes & Revelations

An ever evolving epic sound, compellingly powered by Matt Bellamy’s devastating voice and ridiculous talents with guitar and piano.

TORI AMOS

fave tracks: Cornflake Girl, Space Dog, Pretty Good Year, Caught a Lite Sneeze, Father Lucifer, Talula, Spark, Northern Lad, Cruel, Carbon, Scarlet’s Walk, Bouncing Off Clouds, Roosterspur Bridge, Programmable Soda, Beauty of Speed

fave album: Under the Pink

my first real musical crush, with an amazing voice which is by turns seductively breathy and thoroughly soul-piercing, whose piano skills are without compare.

FLORENCE + THE MACHINE

fave tracks: Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up), Cosmic Love, Between Two Lungs, Bird Song, Seven Devils, No Light, No Light, Never Let Me Go, Spectrum, Breath of Life, Queen of Peace, Ship to Wreck, Third Eye, St. Jude, Conductor, The End of Love, Grace, Sky Full of Song, No Choir, Wish That You Were Here

fave album: Ceremonials

for me, Tori’s natural successor, with one of the greatest voices I have EVER heard. Haunting vocals and an exquisitely symphonic sound of incredible richness. Florence Welch is a goddess.

THE CURE

fave tracks: From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea, Inbetween Days, Just Like Heaven, Lullaby, Pictures of You, Disintegration, Cut Here, Dredd Song, Burn, A Forest, Boys Don’t Cry, The Walk, Love Cats, Close To Me, A Night Like This

fave album: it’s between Disintegration and Wish

my introduction to alternative rock and goth music in particular, a truly awesome band who continue to be awesome regardless of how long they’ve been going, and this band is as old as I am! Robert Smith is a LEGEND, one of my genuine, bona fide IDOLS.

METALLICA

fave tracks: For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Thing That Should Not Be, Orion, Welcome Home (Sanitarium), Master of Puppets, One, The Unforgiven, Of Wolf & Man, Sad But True, Wherever I May Roam, Nothing Else Matters, Hero of the Day, Mama Said, Until It Sleeps, The Outlaw Torn, The Unforgiven II, Turn the Page, Hardwired, Atlas, Rise!

fave album: Master of Puppets (the first album I ever bought!)

the band that first got me into metal, and for me still THE BEST metal band around. At their best when they’re HEAVY, an unstoppable juggernaut of pounding drums, chugging power chords, to-die-for solos and James Hetfield’s incomparable voice.

LINKIN PARK

fave tracks: In the End, Crawling, Runaway, Pushing Me Away, Numb, Breaking the Habit, Figure.09, Somewhere I Belong, Nobody’s Listening, Leave Out All the Rest, No More Sorrow, The Little Things Give You Away, The Catalyst, Iridescent, Waiting for the End, Castle of Glass, Powerless, Roads Untraveled, Burn it Down, Lost in the Echo, Until It’s Gone, Heavy, Battle Symphony, One More Light

fave album: Meteora

they may have started out as the definitive nu metal band, but I’ve loved them in EVERY iteration of their ever-evolving sound, from raw, savage power to pure, transcendent simplicity. Mike Shinoda is a musical genius, and Chester Bennington was a magnificent talent who was taken from us far too soon ...

BIFFY CLYRO

fave tracks: Folding Stars, Semi-Mental, Machines, The Conversation Is..., Living is a Problem Because Everything Dies, Now I’m Everyone, Mountains, Many of Horror, The Captain, Booooom, Blast & Ruin, Know Your Quarry, Bubbles, Shock Shock, Stingin’ Belle, Victory Over the Sun, Biblical, Picture a Knife Fight, Spanish Radio, Skylight, Sounds Like Balloons, Howl, Wolves of Winter, Don’t, Won’t, Can’t, Re-Arrange, Flammable, Friends & Enemies, Animal Style, Different Kind of Love, Colour Wheel, All Singing & All Dancing, Tunnels & Trees, The Naturals, Fever Dream, Balance Not Symmetry

fave album: Opposites

last but MOST CERTAINLY in no way least, in my opinion quite simply THE BEST BAND to ever come out of Scotland, a trio of musical maniacs who are never anything less than thoroughly surprising and always original. Seriously, there’s no other band like them out there, and I love them for it. Probably my favourite alt rock band of all time ...

honourable mentions: Funeral For a Friend, PVRIS, My Chemical Romance, Big Country, Sara Bareilles, a Perfect Circle, Witterquick, Don Broco, Smashing Pumpkins, Fightstar, Tonight Alive, The Killers, Pearl Jam, Idlewild, Editors, Fall Out Boy, Genesis, 30 Seconds to Mars, David Gilmour, U2

#biffy clyro #the cure #tool #nine inch nails #queen #linkin park #muse #florence + the machine #tori amos #metallica

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grimelords · 5 years

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My March playlist is finished! This one is slightly more diverse than usual, swinging all the way from vibraphone jazz to Bhad Bhabie to black metal so I’ve taken the liberty of actually sequencing it properly for you. So if you’ve got 3 hours you can listen to this straight through and be taken for a hell of a ride. No matter what you like I’m sure you’ll find something in here that you love.

Tahiti - Milt Jackson: For an unknown reason I had a big jazz vibraphone phase this month and when you're talking jazz vibraphone you're talking the Wizard Of The Vibes himself, Milt Jackson. I feel insane even having an opinion on this but it's a shame that some of the best vibraphone performances were made at a time when the actual recording technology wasn't really there, they all have this very thin quality that I think misses a lot of the great character of the instrument.

Detour - Bill Le Sage: Like compare this from 1971 to Wizard Of The Vibes from 1952, the sounds is miles warmer and gives so much more of the full range and detail of the instrument. I also listened to this song five times in a row when I first heard it, the central refrain is just so fuckin good. Like I said, big vibes vibe and who knows why.

Blowin' The Blues Away - Buddy Rich And His Sextet: Superhuman playing aside, it's unbelievable how good these drums sound. The whole first minute just feels like a tour of each specific drum and I absolutely revel in it. I feel like flute and vibes is a relatively rare combo so it's extremely nice to hear Sam Most and Mike Manieri go ham in tandem.

Yama Yama - Yamasuki Singers: A friend sent me this song that he's had stuck in his head for ten years ever since it was in a beer ad from the days when beer ads were incredible strange for complicated legal reasons about not showing people enjoying the product or something https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORfkh0OojxY and this incredible song is apparently from a 1971 French concept album where a couple of guys wrote a bunch of psychedelic songs in Japanese for an unknown reason that later became a massive drum and bass breaks album, and one of the guys was Thomas Bangalter from Daft Punk's dad! Music is crazy.

Alfonso Muskedunder - Todd Terje: I'm starting a petition to get Todd Terje to write the soundtrack for the next Mario Kart. I absolutely love this song and this whole album because it's so joyful and strange and it just sounds like nothing else I've ever heard. He seem to truly operate in a world entirely of his own.

Pala - Roland Tings: I love this song. It's like he wrote it with normal sounds and then went back and replaced every instrument with the party version. This song hands you a coconut and says welcome to the island where bad vibes are punishable by firing squad.

Keygen 13 - Haze Edit - Dubmood: There's a fucking album of keygen music on spotify and it's absolutely great and so good that someone's doing the work to recognize the value of the music this extremely weird scene produced and preserve it. If you don't know, back in the day when you pirated photoshop or whatever, you would download a license key generator which was a program made by extreme nerds who had cracked the license key algorithm to give you a fake one, and for unknown reasons they would make the keygen program play original chiptune music that someone in their nerd crew would compose. Who knows why but god bless them.

My Moon My Man (Boys Noize Remix) - Feist: The very concept of a Boys Noize remix of My Moon My Man is hilarious and it turns out it sounds absolutely amazing as well. Two great tastes that taste great together.

Low Blows - Meg Mac: I had a big Meg Mac phase this month too, listened to her album a lot and it's extremely solid. Great timing too cause her new one comes out in a month or so too. I really am excited to hear her next album because she's so good but I've always got this feeling that she hasn't reached her full potential yet, she's only going to get a million times better in an album or two.

Patience - Tame Impala: I love that the cover of this single is a pic of congas because it feels like that's the central thesis here. Kevin Parker bought some congas and is making disco Tame Impala now and I really couldn't be happier about it.

Unconditional (feat. Kitten) - Touch Sensitive: I love a 90s throwback done with love. There's nothing cynical or ironic about this it's just fun as hell!

Last Hurrah - Bebe Rexha: Get a fucking load of this Bebe Rexha song that interpolates Buy U A Drank by T-Pain for the chorus! It's a testament to how good that song is that she's using the verse melody as the chorus. T-Pain will quite literally never get the respect he deserves. Also this song goes for 2.5 minutes. There's something happening where pop songwriting is getting more and more compact, completely trimming the fat and ornamentation and it's very interesting.

Hi Bich - Bad Bhabie: Also I'm fully six months late on Hi Bich but I'm of the opinion that it's extremely fucking good. A perfect little reaction gif of a song and it only goes for 1m45!

Friends - Flume: I'm doubling down on my thesis about emo rap from last month but this song literally sounds like a Flume remix of a Hawthorne Heights song. The whole melody of it, the overlapping yelled/clean vocals. The lyrics obviously. I don't know it's just very odd how close it is. A sort of emo trojan horse to trick people into thinking The Used are cool again.

How To Build A Relationship (feat. JPEGMAFIA) - Flume: I've been meaning to check out JPEGMAFIA (AKA Buttermilk Jesus AKA DJ Half-Court Violation AKA Lil' World Cup) for a while but this is the song that convinced me. There's just so much to digest in this. Every line is gold and delivered with massive conviction even when he realises it's total nonsense like 'dont call me unless I gave you my number'.

Bells & Circles (feat. Iggy Pop) - Underworld: Underworld alive 2019?? I love this song becuase Iggy Pop has been riding a fine line between punk provocateur and old man yells at cloud for a while now and this song is the perfect mix of both. You can't hijack airplanes and redirect them to cuba anymore and as a result it's over for liberal democracies. Just yelling about air travel for six minutes and it's good.

Guns Blazing (Drums Of Death Pt. 1) - UNKLE: This beat is some of my favourite DJ Shadow work I think. The menacing organ bass throughout, and especially the distorted drum freakout near the end. It's just great all the way through.

Homo Deus IV - Deantoni Parks: Another Deantoni Parks track like I was raving about last month. This whole album is great and flows together as a single piece of work amazingly. I love the purposefully limited sample palette of each track forcing an evolving groove throughout. He absolutely wrings every bit of variation he can get out of every single sound he uses and once you get into the groove of it it's absolutely mind blowing.

Boredom - The Drones: I love that The Drones can write a song about joining ISIS that's also a lot of fun. Spelling out radicalization in a way anyone can understand and sympathise with and then switching it in the second verse to spell out how we got into this situation anyway.

Loinclothing - Hunters And Collectors: I love how much this song sounds like a voodoo celebration in christian hell.

The Fun Machine Took A Shit And Died - Queens Of The Stone Age: There's a good bit on the live dvd they put out after Lullabies To Paralyze where they play this song and they say it was supposed to be on the album but somebody stole the master recordings from the studio, which is an incredible and brazen crime. Then when they put it out on Era Vulgaris as a bonus track Josh Homme said in an interview "The tapes got lost. Actually, they were just at another studio, but we falsely accused everyone in the world of theft" which is extremely funny. This is really one of their best songs and I sort of really with it had been on Lullabies because it fits perfectly between The Blood Is Love and Someone's In The Wolf type of vibes, I love how it just kind of keeps shifting ideas and riffs throughout. An absolute jam overflowing with ideas.

10AM Automatic - The Black Keys: This song is an all time great in my opinion. It's so straightforward and so effective. I wonder if we'll get a blues rock revival ever or if Jack White still being alive and bad is souring everyone on that idea. This song also has one of my favourite guitar sounds in history I think - the outrageously huge sounding solo that comes out of nowhere and swallows up the rest of the mix like a swirling black hole near the end.

Gamma Knife - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard: I've never gotten much into King Gizzard and because of their one million albums already it's hard to know where to start but I've been listening to Nonagon Infinity a bit and it's great, it's just good old fashioned 70s prog jams front to back.

Gina Works At Hearts - DZ Deathrays: I absolutely love this song and I absolutely love the second guitar sound in the chorus of this song that sounds like it's made out of thin steel.

Black Brick - Deafheaven: When I saw Deafheaven the other month I was right up the front and it was a life changingly great experience AND they played this new song live for the first time before it went up everywhere like three hours later which was very exciting to be given a sclusie like that. After they finished a guy behind me whispered to his friend "Slayer..." which was very funny to me.

Gemini - Elder: I found this band because one of my Spotify Daily Mixes was all stoner metal for a while, which is a good genre to see all lined up because it'll have Weedeater, Bongripper AND Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats right there in a row for you. Anyway this album is extremely good, the very best kind of stoner metal where it's groovy and fun and has big meaty riffs and ripping big solos and it's extremely easy to listen to three times in a row.

The Paradise Gallows - Inter Arma: My big obsession the past little while has been Inter Arma ever since Stereogum posted The Atavist's Meridian from their new album. It is just so fucking good and I can't believe I've never heard of them before. You know when you find out about an amazing band and then you find out they've been around for nearly ten years and you can't believe everyone in your life has been selfishly hiding them from you?

The Atavist's Meridian - Inter Arma: I think a big part of my enjoyment of this band has also been that I discovered them at the same time as I'm listening to an audiobook of the complete Conan The Barbarian omnibus so I'm very much in the brain space for music that sounds like it would be nice to swing an axe to.

Untoward Evocation - Impetuous Ritual: I love how halfway through this kind of just turns into a big swirling mist of dark sounds. It feels so formless and dark that it could just shake apart and dissipate at any moment and you'd look down to realise your skin is gone.

Eagle On A Pole - Conor Oberst: from Genius: 'In an interview with MTV news, Oberst stated “We were on the bus one day and a friend of ours that travels with us and works for the band kind of came out from the back of the bus and said that first line: ‘Saw an eagle on a pole… I think it was an eagle.’ And then this guy Simon Joyner, who is a great songwriter from Omaha and one of my great friends, he was on tour with us and sitting there and he was like, ‘You know, that’s a great name for a song.’ We kind of had a contest where he wrote a song with that first line, and [then] I did, and a couple of our other friends. We kind of all played them for each other. Simon’s is better than mine, but it is a good line to start a song.” Another version–Mystic Valley Band drummer Jason Boesel’s interpretation–is on the next album, Outer South.' The idea that such a good song has such a braindead origin only makes me love it more.

Lake Marie - John Prine: When I saw John Prine the other month he played this song that I had never heard before and I had to look it up after and now I'm completely obsessed with it. It feels like falling asleep during a movie and missing a critical plot point so the rest doesn't make sense when you wake up but is thrilling nonetheless. Also he absolutely screamed "SHADOWS!!!" when he played it which was a fucking cool thing to see a 72 year old man do.

Little White Dove - Jenny Lewis: The drums on this whole album are absolutely huge for some reason and I love it. My favourite recent sound is in the first chorus where there's a funny little pitch correction noise as she sings 'dove'. It's very strange and very very good.

Locked Up - The Ocean Party: I only found out The Ocean Party existed as they announced their farewell show this month which is a real shame but I'm glad I got to hear of them at all because they're very good. A very good song about that feeling we all know and love: driving for a long long time.

Plain & Sane & Simple Melody - Ted Lucas: I found out about this song from Emma Ruth Rundle's Amoeba Records video and she makes a good point about this whole album sounding like something's gone wrong and it got accidentally pitched down slightly in the recording process. It's unclear if that's what happened or that's just how he sounds but it adds a very softly spooky undercurrent to a very nice song.

listen here

#playlists

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moki-dokie · 5 years

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What's the first album you bought for yourself? What are some albums from your formative years?

hmmmmmm

the first album i ever owned was smash mouth - fush yu mang. i didn’t buy it though. xmas gift. (technically my first, actual album was the TLK soundtrack on cassette but smash mouth was my first non-soundtrack and also first CD)

first one i ever bought... god i can’t remember. it was either pokemon: 2b a master, backstreet boys, vitamin c, or robyn. i got all of those about the same time.

albums from fomative years:

michael jackson’s off the wall, bad, and thriller. i’m surprised i didn’t break our record player for as much as i listened to those

backstreet boys’ backstreet’s back and millennium

britney spears’ baby one more time and oops i did it again

alanis morisette’s jagged little pill

garbage’s everything

enya’s a day without rain

weezer’s blue album

x japan’s everything

our lady peace’s gravity

tool’s lateralus and aenima

muse’s black holes and revelations

i think thats about it

#asks

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thesunlounge · 4 years

Text

Reviews 306: Cass. & Gianni Brezzo

I am a touch behind when it comes to covering Growing Bin Record’s 2019 output and throughout December I’ll be playing catch-up by publishing my long gestating reviews of Bartosz Kruczyński’s Baltic Beat II and Eleventeen Eston’s Delta Horizon (as well as taking a look at what’s been going on over at Glowing Pin). But in the meantime, I’d like to put down some reflections on one of the newest Growing Bin releases: Masala Kiss by Cass. & Gianni Brezzo. I bought the record without much thought, trusting that Basso, Brezzo, and Cass. would take me to exactly where I needed to be, but even still, I am completely taken aback by the LP’s immersive ambient universes. It’s an album I lose myself completely to while listening and one that I daydream about when not, as almost every moment is stunningly gorgeous and overflowing with emotional creativity. Cass. & Brezzo touch on so many of the sounds I love most, including these spectacular detours into sky-seeking post-rock, and throughout the eleven tracks, we see aquatic arpeggiations swimming through cymbal taps and rainfall; electronic textures imported from the fourth world flowing over hushed breaths and subdued tribal rhythms; e-pianos falling like a soft tropical storm and pads sighing like the wind; kosmische sequences percolating amidst industrial sound blasts; drumkits pounding against fuzz guitars, swooning pads, and gaseous idiophonics; chill out breaks vibing beneath synthesized dolphin songs and liquid bass guitar narcotics; and balearic paradises awash in hues of some impossible sunset.

Cass. & Gianni Brezzo - Masala Kiss (Growing Bin Records, 2019) “Jaybo” opens with manic percussion beating through cosmic caverns…a minimalist world drum groove wherein echoing rimshots splatter into sea-spray. Trance inducing vibrato waves hover in the air as acoustic guitars descend onto the mix, working between subdued delay tapestries and bursts of emotional violence, with steel strings buzzing and smearing into fractal webs while kosmische leads melt through they sky. During a moment where the guitars fade, angels sing through deep sea hazes while bubble clouds flutter ear-to-ear and later, the drums wash out as bleary-eyed wavefronts smolder in the background, with single note leads howling and acoustic guitars generating crystalline gas clusters. Then in “Umberella,” e-pianos quiver, morph, and occasionally glitch out, with lush tremolo clouds trailing every chord. Interstellar sequences are bathed in reverberation as they flutter in the distance and voices speak expressive incantations amidst studio clatter. And later, pianos execute a jazzwise climb towards the stars, with the sounds of pounding keystrokes rendered louder than the notes themselves. Electric guitars weave galactic desert mesmerism in “Imence Sense” as synths pool like liquid light…the glowing currents suffused by laser approximations of birdsong, string machines from celestial oceans, and synthetic organs that glow like the sun. Dopamine guitar arps float, bass notes disperse like clouds of smoke, and hammer on leads scrape and squiggle as anthemic majesty is subverted into an ambient dream drift, one that pairs nicely with Gigi Masin’s & Jonny Nash’s recent Postcards from Nowhere. And sometimes, amidst the fragile space music mutations, streaks of polychrome synthesis break free…like dazzling currents of color seen just below the surface of some infinite ocean.

Arps flowing from the fourth world oscillate through dreamspace echoes in “Instabubu” while e-pianos evoke melting gemstones. Cymbals phase and chime strands sparkle like oceanic crystal while bulbous bass pads swell the heart. And later, cinematic melodic ascents smear into feedback synthesis and wailing strings generating tropical mirages as the mix continues to sparkle with seaside jazz spirituality. “Autoscooter Lover” follows with tribalist percussion effecting into a panorama of bubble mutations while piano chords lilt back and forth. Fragile synthesis wavers through the sky…these aqueous streaks of mermaid beauty progressively ring modulating into liquid abstraction…and vocal breaths push hot air across the mix as further pad layers scat on reversing jazz currents. Gaseous orchestrations diffuse in before dispersing and after a hushed pause, the mix explodes back to life, now with cymbal taps decaying across the spectrum and swooning melodies of paradise balearica transforming into alien psychedelia. And at some point, the mix reduces to sparse percussion and scraping guitar chords while indie basslines dance high on the fretboard…an enticing moment of daydream nostalgia. “Out of Mind” closes the A-side with layered Berlin school sequencing bouncing through a neon cosmos, with bending fluids and seabird mutations wiggling through the vacuum. Spiritual choirs sing out from the center of the universe, with voices smearing into static as polysynths waver through crystalline clouds. Psychosonic energy blasts whoosh across the spectrum and laser lights mutate into insect screams as black hole radiation bathes the spirit…all while the prog electronic sequences filter, flange, and phase into indistinction, moving from cosmic hypnosis to splattered sequential psychosis.

The extended intro of “Koli” portends some moment of cathartic power, with synth hazes swelling, e-bowed guitars refracting spectral light, and noa bells ringing in a gentle breeze. And eventually, a massive post-rock drum beat drops, with cymbals, snare, and backwards sucking kicks decaying into a void of heartache and kissed by a touch of slapback. The guitars wail into emotional bluescapes of whalesong psychedelia and golden waves of orchestral warmth evolve into a synthesized blur…all while arpeggiations flutter far in the distance. Then in “Helge,” sea vents spew out strange bubble formations and synthesizers ascend through anthem rave riffs while IDM cymbals crawl across the mix like some crazed insect. Slap bass robotics and pastoral guitars solo into jazz ethereality and the rhythms eventually filter into whispering shadows, with everything fading to nothingness as a demonic voice speaks unknowable incantations. Then comes “Der Däne,” wherein lounge jazz guitar chords bend like liquid over ultra-chill trip hop rhythmics, with electro-kicks vibing out and infectious clap patterns cracking on the soulful bounce. The background is woven through by psychedelic noise hazes and dolphin-generated sonar tracers as glacial streaks of orchestral majesty hover just out of reach. The drums pull away for a momentary breath and when they rush back in, they are joined by bass guitar threads recalling Douglas McCombs, with spindly slides and emotive hammer-ons moving through soft jazzfunk sensuality. And as the rhythms progressively filter and crunch, my mind drifts further towards Tortoise, as well as towards Mogwai…just pure post-rock perfection…though growing ever more balearic, with new age ocean atmospherics flowing into the stereo field and stoking visages of some gorgeous sunset panorama.

The first part of “Interlude” is alive with shouting street vendors, feet running on cobblestones, and secrets spoken in earnest as seagulls fly through the sky. Then, drone clouds wash the mix clean, bringing with them bursts of industrial static and swirls of spectral distortion run through by detuning orchestrations. A bell-tower rings in the distance, feedback lasers transmute into blinding fire, and towards the end, piano arps flutter on a seaside breeze, with everything smearing out beneath layers of insectoid noise. Whereas “Der Däne” celebrated the post-rock soundscapes of the mid-90s, closer “Paterson” revels in that style’s early 2000s rebirth, with mathy guitars singing together…their multitudinous layers bathed in cavernous verbs, dreamspace delays, and recalling for me Explosions in the Sky, especially their work on Friday Night Lights. Then it all breaks down, with cold guitars radiating through interstellar expanses and electronic beats dancing through hyperspace corridors while energy waves crash against the mix. Eventually, the swooning guitar majesties return and break free from the murk…singing towards a rural sunrise as the heart soars higher and higher. Rhythms of jazz electronica underly the layers of melodic majesty, with shuffling cymbals guiding the body through immersive e-bow environments. And entire orchestras of the sky are evoked by a few guitars and a bank of fx as synthesized fusion leads solo in support, bringing LSD visions of an exploding sunrise. Nearing the end, the mix devolves yet again, with decaying orchestrations surrounding strange synthetic arps. But rather than end here, a lone guitar ascends once more through the detritus and traces out further melodies of paradise magic before eventually fading away, leaving us afloat within avant-garde sonic environments recalling “Interlude.”

(images from my personal copy)

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okimargarvez · 6 years

Text

HURT- open wounds

Original title: Hurt.

Prompt: Luke’s dark thought, destiny, contrasted love.

Warnings: sexual content, dark thoughts.

Genre: angst, drama, romantic, smut, dark, mistery, frienship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, BAU team, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: multichapter.

Legend: 💏😘😈🔦🐶❗🎈👻.

Song mentioned: La tua vita intera, Tiziano Ferro.

Hurt- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

Chapter 3-

I just I don't want to feel your Judgy McJudgerson looks on me as I daintily sip my Mai Tai.

He continues to review her serious expression as she pronounces that sentence. The way she had raised and arched eyebrows. How her lips were curled. JJ and Emily hadn't only remained in the background: they were completely gone. There was only her. Her green dress and wacky. Her ample bosom, which seemed on the verge of exploding. Her voice seemed so childish while she strives to convince him of her ability to discern between good (maximum two drinks if the next day there was no work) and evil (drunken driving). Her attempt to stay away, avoid him, but then still question him.

How loud had caught him, the desire, once again?

But he couldn't in this case telling himself the fairytale, that he needed her, to keep his mind off, out of his mind the usual album of horrifying visions. Something slowly was changing (if it already hadn't happened).

And at that time, he wasn't victim of one of his crisis. It was just a natural necessity, physics. Or maybe something more complex, but still nuanced. And at the end of the day, however, the result was that he wanted her. He wanted to be with her, smell her hair, feel her warmth on him. Because he did feel good with her, exactly as (should be) when a mother cuddling her infant.

But the last night he had had the opportunity to enjoy this privilege, he had made a serious mistake. He had said a few words, but already were too many and too heavy. He had always thought, from the first time that his eyes had placed on her, she was very insightful, as well as sensitive, the latter term meant as a "person able to more carefully grasp the nuances of what looking ", in Enlightenment meaning of the XVII century, not only as someone who was brought to suffer and share the feelings of others. And she was both. So, she had definitely understood. And that had compromised the possibility that she would continue to heal him.

It wasn't just his impression. Since that night, the woman had done everything to avoid him, more or less openly. In the eyes of others, nothing had changed. Every now and then they had to talk, but there seemed to be a clear dividing line between what they did and were, when they were with other people, in the workplace, and their sporadic meetings face-to-face. As if they perform roles. But more in the first or in the second case? Or perhaps in both?

Penelope observes the bottom of her glass, lost in abstruse reflections, up to estrangement from her condition and realize that she had made a double movie quotes: either Godard 2 or 3 choses que je sais d'elle, which Taxi Driver, particularly loved by Derek. But then she gets back in herself.

She can't stop thinking about him. Every night she is plagued by dreams that had never done before. And the worst is that she not only feels a physical need, purely erotic. In short, she wants not only to do sex with him. It wouldn't be such a serious problem. He has fully demonstrated the desire in that sense. But she's not that kind of woman. The mere fact of having been with a man with which she doesn't have a stable relationship, it makes her feel bad, dirty, wrong. Without wishing to judge those which are well in such situations. But she just isn't suitable for a similar lifestyle. She needs that behind there are true feeling. The pure sex, tired her. There may also be a porn star on the other side, but if there isn't something more, she can also avoid doing this type of recreational exercise.

And for fear of falling in love with him, she had decided (again) no longer see him, only at work. To resist the temptation. Although he no longer has made only one attempt to approach her in that sense. And of course, rather than be grateful to him, she hates him. What attracted her, in him?

Going beyond the physical beauty, how his amber skin is perfectly match the dark hair, slightly curly. At the deep voice, with some accent that betrays his Latin origins.

First of all, his eyes. Those dark bottomless abysses. There is no other way to better define them. They are an abyss that attracts, as well as the ravine or water or the road below, attract the suicide just before him get down. And the analogy that comes to her mind, isn't really random. In fact, there is a fear component, each time she looks out at those black holes. It's fear that brings with it the desire to push the boundaries, to discover what lies beyond. But there's always a price to pay.

In fact, the second point is his story, or rather the mystery that hovers around him. She knows very few things about him: that he was ranger, he had worked in the task force with the task of finding bad fugitives (a kind of bounty hunter, had called him Rossi). That he was been in very dangerous war zones. Stop. She, who was once far as to hack the computer of Kevin, her boyfriend, to find out if he really was intending to propose, had decided to avoid the opportunity provided by her job to find out more information about him. Even Morgan, she had been forced to investigate once about him, albeit for help him.

And he, who was practically a stranger, she had given him the privilege of showing exclusively through himself. And what had emerged was a depth greater than that which suggested by his pupils dilated while he is staring her (thanks dr. Lightman for teaching us that this is a clear sign of excitement, not only sexual).

In his life he must have seen his good number of strong images. But she, as a computer technician, was protected by a screen, had way to alienate. Instead he, he had seen those things in person, and not only seen: he had heard in the sense of noise (roar of exploding grenades, children crying, hysterical screams) but also smells (rotting, deterioration, fear). And he had probably also touched. It didn't need to be Reid, having his IQ to know that such situations brought to develop serious psychological problems.

But the fact was that the FBI agents were frequently subjected to checks, to verify their integrity (not just mental) and moral, to make sure they were still serving conscientiously their country. And let alone if someone was coming back from the center places of serious conflicts. So, he must have surely passed these tests.

In fact, he didn't seem crazy. But he was certainly not indifferent. And those few words he'd said, before fleeing, fleeing as if he were in front of his worst nightmare, had been enough to realize that she was right. Luke must have lived had traumatic experiences, which had made him the man she saw now (and this led her to wonder how him was before, and then overlook, because so much what mattered was the present). Precise, intuitive, an excellent agent, a fortuitous purchase for the BAU. Many of his perceptions led to identifying an unsub, or otherwise direct the team in the right direction. Loyal to duty and willing to let go on a few occasions. Rare and wonderful.

When they found themselves alone in the elevator, that time just minutes from sex, he had clearly done everything to provoke her. They had done that such of drama, in which she decided on the spot to use a formal tone, to determine distances. For her it was a sort of revenge against the fate that had delivered another fine piece of man instead of Derek. For him it was probably just a game, a pastime. Or so she thought then.

But he also made an important revelation, which until now she had deliberately decided to ignore.

Roxy. My girlfriend.

If he was engaged, where she lived? Why he had decided to betray her girlfriend with a colleague just met, that wasn't (the latter, i.e. her) not even the classic beauty of the film, in president's secretary style?

She hadn't found the answers. But this was one of the reasons why she was trying to show herself happy that he wasn't there at the bar with them this evening.

Eventually he desists. He waivers. He greets with a kiss the silhouette asleep on his bed, and then takes the keys, turns it several times in the lock, make sure it's fully closed, and exits. He salts on his machine, set the browser looking for that place... what's his name? O'Keef.

And he gets there, soon enough.

He parks. What are he doing there? He had told all that he still has work to do. It was true. But he had finished hours ago. Then he had been to his house, gazing up at the blank screen of images, without understanding anything; a modern way to "staring at the ceiling."

At the same instant in which he arises thousand questions, opens the door of the room and makes his way. Nothing special, nothing particular. Every kind of person takes up more or less messy tables.

But to him it affects only one: hers. The one where is she. But he isn't going to talk to her. This didn't even cross to the hall of his brain. He wants to observe her. Spy on her. Enjoying her image without having to ask for any kind of explanation. Being a voyeur. Or the documentarian.

He identifies the perfect spot for his "shots". Where he can scrutinize her, but hardly she can see him. He makes his order without even realizing what he really bought. The eyes fixed in that direction. He first sees her chat with JJ and Emily, then one goes to the bathroom, while the other is reached by a handsome man. Probably the boyfriend of the brunette. They seem to argue for a moment; he wants to go dancing, but the woman didn't want to leave her friend alone. At the end Penelope manages to convince her and the two leave. If he wanted to get to her, this would be the perfect time.

But fortunately, it's not in his intentions, because someone is more rapid. A man, short, blond hair (the stereotype of the "Canadian boyfriend" that she wanted to make him believe that was her boyfriend), with a nice pair of blue eyes (he recognizes them despite the distance), a pair of dark blue glasses, dressed in casual way, is approaching. And from the language of her body, it's clear that she doesn't know him. But he smiles, makes clear sign if he can occupy the seat in front of her and she, after a moment, nods. They start to talk. He can't say how long goes ahead this... thing. Then the guy starts to get a little pushy, beginning touches her hand, in an almost casual gesture, but totally researched and thought. Luke tights the keys of his car until his hand bleeds, but he can remain indifferent to physical pain that he has caused alone.

And that type goes further, patting her shoulder for a split second. He would get up, have a chance to claim that thing gets his hands off her. Because she is his. This forced her to say, the last evening that they have seen each other closely. In part yes, to play, to create an atmosphere... but also because he wanted to, he wants this to be the reality. Because, again he repeats it as a kind of justification, she makes him feel good. She is helping him. And this is more than enough. He doesn’t look further. But that wretch it's threatening to ruin everything. And there is something worse than watching (helpless) another man touches her.

And it's hearing her laugh (he almost never had the opportunity to hear it, certainly not directed at him), the crystalline sound trickling from her mouth, which for now he has been able only (only!) to feel against his, to experience the feeling as her tongue moves in his skin, chasing away the ghosts. Her white teeth, just discovered, that peek at some time; he could polish them with his tongue, but this may be enough? No.

Her head spinning a little, as she walks towards her car, and certainly not for alcohol. The glasses that she's granted herself, aren't sure enough to soak her in that oblivion that she so desired. Why, while she flirting with a man, not so bad, indeed, couldn't help but notice how different they were, he and Luke? Not just physically. The guy seemed superficial. It almost certainly was her opinion, due at the moment, after they had exchanged just a few words and then... no one seemed to be able to achieve emotional intensity that was there in every look of her colleague and pseudo lover.

She bends to insert the keys into the lock, congratulating herself for not having given the unknown her own number, when suddenly a hand grabs her wrist and forces her to turn around, resting on the car door. At that she thinks it's the blond, maybe out of the club has decided to show his true nature. She's certainly not prepared to discover that in reality it's the man who was been with her throughout the evening.

-Luke!- saying his name is no longer a taboo. It's a way to make him more real, concrete and not an abstract figure, the mysterious man who will bring her, riding a white horse. A man capable of capturing serial killer. A man capable of betraying.

He instead, doesn't pronounces hers. He has done it three times at most. At work he calls her Garcia, like everyone else. Once he apostrophe her as chica, but just to make fun of her Latinized last name, and the fact she not knows a word of Spanish (and say that years ago she had tried to learn it, just to flirt with Derek more creatively), until he discovered that she had been adopted and that her parents were dead. Then he was stunned, had been silent, surely regretting, but not apologizing.

-Did you have fun, there inside?- first he asks her. But although, read printed on a book, the phrase may seem threatening or ironic, nothing, neither his expression nor his tone betraying similar intentions. He's just extremely serious. He terrifies her. But she didn't answer. And he flies over, because that's not what he really cares. He gets nearer to her. Everything, apart from their mouths, it's in contact. -Now let's go home.- without specifying what he means by "home". -You are Joan of Arc and I the inquisition.-

Again, something inside her is broken, when she understands that she would surrender again. That neither the thought of becoming the woman she ever wanted to be, or the prospect that he is cheating on someone and that she is helping him in this, may be enough to curb her. Just as long as he is in the periods in which seems to ignore her, and they are nothing but two colleagues who pinch each other.

But as soon as he returns to make her the center of his attention, she become like wax, fully malleable clay in the hands of the sculptor.

She salts in the car. She drives. She is already regret. She has already passed this stage. So, from now on, she'll be able to enjoy anything happen.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @itsdawnashlie @talesoffairies @janiedreams88 @kiki-krakatoa @yessenia993 @teyamarra @c00lhandsluke @gcchic @arses21434 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jarmin @kathy5654 @martinab26 @thisonekid @thenibblets @perfectly-penelope @ambrosiaswhispers @maziikeen92 @lovelukealvez @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @ichooseno @ megs2219 @rkt3357 @franklintrixie @thinitta @chewwy123 @skisun @maba84 @saisnarry @myhollyhanna23 @thenorthernlytes

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #alvez x garcia #garcia x alvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia x luke alvez

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up2eleven · 4 years

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10 Bands that I Outgrew, Part 1

10: Muse

This was difficult for me, I want to like Muse, I do like Muse, at least, I think I like Muse. Whatever the case may be, I don't hate them, I just don't feel like they "do it" for me anymore. None of their albums past 2006's "Black Holes and Revelations" has gotten me excited to the point of being a dedicated fan, this isn't to say that they haven't had a smattering of good songs in recent years, I just can't bring myself to sit down and listen to their stuff from beginning to end, but if the occasional Muse track pops up on my playlists, I won't scramble for the skip button.

9. Story of the Year

I remember back in my college years, being really into this emo/post-hardcore group, their breakthrough LP "Page Avenue" was my first foray into heavier music in general, and for a good bit of nostalgia, it's fun to go back and listen to. I got to be an extra in one of their music videos (for the song "Take Me Back" off their sophomore effort "In the Wake of Determination"), which was also a lot of fun, and I generally enjoyed their stuff, their third outing, "Black Swan" was ok, heavier than Page Avenue and In the Wake, but by that point, they had started showing their age and were getting kind of stale. Their fourth album, "The Constant" was proof that maybe it was time to hang it up, and they did, flit a while. When news broke that they would be releasing their first album in 7 years, titled "Wolves" I was excited and ready for something nostalgic, but to be honest, it was really lackluster, and I found myself just not being all that into it and the band themselves anymore. I'll still go back to some of their older songs from Page Avenue and In the Wake of Determination, but it's safe to say that I have outgrown Story of the Year.

8. Panic! At the Disco

I remember being into them when I bought their first album, "A Fever You Can't Sweat Out." I listened to that album on repeat in the mid-aughts, and then I fell out. Rumors of band drama resulting in a brief breakup, followed by a reformation that would leave frontman Brendan Urie as the sole original member, due to Urie being a raging primadonna (I admit, he has a great voice, but I digress) just put a terrible taste in my mouth, and I really haven't bothered to give anything new of theirs the time of day.

7. Fall Out Boy

I really liked these guys, back when I was going through my emo phase in the mid 2000s. I fell in love with this Chicago-based quartet with their hit single "Sugar, We're Goin' Down." When I first heard this song, I immediately rushed out to buy this album and devoured it voraciously. I loved this album so much that I went and bought their debut album “Take This To Your Grave” (I plan on writing a retrospective review on that album in the near future). I followed them throughout the 2000s, following up their massively successful “From Under the Cork Tree” with “Infinity on High” and then they went on hiatus after releasing their album "Folie a Deux” back in 2008.

They came back from their hiatus a few years later with the album, "Save Rock and Roll," and their lead single, "My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light it Up)" and I just wasn't all that excited for them anymore. Glad they're still out there making music and otherwise doing what they love, but I hopped off the Fall Out Boy bus back in 2009.

6. Linkin Park

May I not get tarred and feathered for this one. Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead, rest in peace, Chester Bennington. I was really into Linkin Park when I was a freshman in high school, and that was because it was hard, and made me feel like a badass. Angsty teen music for angsty teens written by twentysomething-year-old men. The fusion of hip-hop and metal was a novel idea at the time and Chester Bennington is a talented musician and demonstrates a clear understanding of music theory. They followed their multi-platinum album, “Hybrid Theory” with the similarly multi-platinum “Meteora,” Linkin Park split up soon after to explore different projects. Mike Shinoda formed the hip-hop outfit, Fort Minor, and Chester Bennington had Mutemath and his production endeavors. They returned in 2007 with “Minutes to Midnight,” a politically charged, more mature and nuanced LP that tackled issues ranging from mindless self-destructive behavior just for the sake of being self-destructive, Chester’s bouts with depression, to the Iraq War and Hurricane Katrina. While a great album, I had already, at that point, outgrown them as my tastes had shifted more into emo and pop-punk.

#Music #Rock #Rock Music #Rock and Roll #Ten Bands That I Outgrew

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suckmycoxon · 7 years

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(@doctorwepic asked me through message to do Muse for the band thing... sorry idk why I can’t find your url when I’m about to tag you??)

First song I heard by them: “Starlight”. I remember my brother bought the CD just to listen to it and “Supermassive Black Hole” and he payed them so often in our car

Favorite album: BLACK HOLES AND REVELATIONS

Top 5 favorite songs: 1. Map of the Problematique 2. Space Dementia 3. Big Freeze 4. Exogenesis: Symphony Part 3 (Redemption) 5. either “Invincible” or “Soldier’s Poem”...

thank you!! <3

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objectivesubjectivity · 6 years

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Catch up albums pt. 7: Blues on Blues

Let’s talk about the blues for a second.

Blues music has, without a doubt, been the most surprising genre throughout this quest. Particularly because, if you had asked me prior, I would have said that I didn’t really care for the stuff. I had never been drawn in by Clapton, didn’t know (or care for that matter) that much about B.B. King, and I thoroughly disliked those early Stones albums. I enjoyed the back-porch picking of Mississippi John Hurt and Taj Mahal, but that standard E-A-B7 progression just straight up bored me.

But then I actually took the time to listen to Jimi and Zeppelin and Blind Faith and I realized that great blues didn’t have limitations, that these musicians found freedom by poking and prodding at the structure. It was instantly attractive (“I Had To Cry Today,” “Purple Haze,” and “Good Times Bad Times,” are top-notch album openers) and it shifted my entire mindset on the genre.

This brings me to “Blonde on Blonde.”

My dad bought me “Blonde on Blonde,” recently because it’s one of his favorites and he thought it deserved a chance. I went in eagerly and, once again, I was immediately hooked. I had heard “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35,″ in passing, but never with such willing ears. And like the aforementioned openers, I was presented with the blues in a way I hadn’t heard prior: The march of the snare, the bar-man piano, the horns, the drunken tambourine that never quite stays on the beat.

But unfortunately, it didn’t last. “Pledging My Time,” sunk straight back into that tired, old blues trope and dashed all hopes of Dylan landing a Top 100 slot this time around. And while there were other massive highs, such as the brilliant closing ballad “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands,” and the highly-problematic, “Just Like A Lady,” I never could shake the bland taste of the E-A-B7 on track two.

(To my dad’s credit, as a “blues rock” fan, this really is a masterpiece.)

But it doesn’t just end there. Because this was not the first time a Dylan album had soured on me because of “the blues.”

A little while ago, I got my hands on a copy of “Blood On the Tracks.” I was more familiar with this album having spun it a number of times in my teenage years on the old family record player. But similarly, I had never given it a “good” listen. Unlike “Blonde,” “Blood” is really a folk-rock album which struck my fancy a bit more from the get-go. Plus, songs like “Tangled Up in Blue,” “Idiot Wind,” and “Shelter From the Storm,” are truly incomparable. But then there was “Meet Me in the Morning,” and its tried-and-true E-A-B7 disrupted, for me, what was otherwise a unbelievably good album.

(What makes it even worse is that the back-porch blues of “Buckets of Rain,” is a stellar ending track. Had he stuck to just that, the album would be a contender.)

So what is it about those three chords, that E-A-B7, that brings my appreciation of the reigning master of folk to a screeching halt? I think it all boils down to structure. What Dylan did for folk music was singularly unique and while one can argue his songwriting merits might merely match the likes of Prine, Simon, Mitchell and others, his legacy is not without significant reason. And he accomplished this by poking and prodding at the structure popularized by Guthrie and Seeger, by stretching out songs to epic proportions, by allowing the story to dictate the tempo, by plugging in at Newport. “Pledging My Time,” and “Meet Me in the Morning,” feel lazy by comparison.

Jimi, Zeppelin, and Blind Faith broke through the boundaries of blues and buried my preconceptions. Dylan, unfortunately, didn’t.

And, to be honest, it kinda makes me blue.

What I listened to last week:

Top 100 contenders in bold.

The Weepies - Be My Thrill

Muse - Black Holes and Revelations

The Afghan Whigs - Black Love

AFI - Black Sails in the Sunset

MellowHype - Blackenedwhite

Bob Dylan - Blonde On Blonde

The Cure - Bloodflowers: A true “give a shit” album. This was a total and very pleasant surprise.

Bruce Springsteen- Born to Run

New Order - Brotherhood

Ween - Chocolate and Cheese

Oingo Boingo - Dead Man’s Party

Elvis Costello & The Imposters - The Delivery Man

Mclusky - The Difference Between Me and You is That I’m Not On Fire

Rhymefest - El Che

Trisha Yearwood - Everybody Knows

Norah Jones - Feels Like Home

Dynamite Boy - Finders Keepers (PPP #121)

What I liked last week:

Songs that I enjoyed and I think are worth sharing. Spotify playlist link

The Weepies - When You Go Away

The Afghan Whigs - Faded

Bob Dylan - Rainy Day Women #12 & 25

The Cure - Watching Me Fall

Bruce Springsteen - Thunder Road

New Order - Weirdo

Ween - Mister, Would You Please Help My Pony

Oingo Boingo - Just Another Day

Elvis Costello & The Imposters - The Delivery Man

Mclusky - Without MSG I Am Nothing

Trisha Yearwood - Little Hercules

Albums listened to in total: 2,064

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