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olivemac · 3 years

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1300 miles | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | It’s my birthday, so to celebrate I’m sharing chapter one of my new WIP. This started its life as a one-shot but then my enneagram 4 brain took over and now it’s looking like it’ll be a multi-chapter short. Enjoy!

Also, feedback – comments, likes, etc. – is always appreciated, my loves.

AO3 link | 1300 miles playlist

_____

The sun is just starting to sink in the sky as Sam and Bucky finish the latest repairs on the boat. Sam has spent the last hour pestering Bucky about things he’s missed over the last 80 years — things he needs to do, shows and movies he needs to watch, music to listen to, places to go. Bucky is considering the consequences of putting his vibranium fist through the new Captain America’s face.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to New Orleans?” Sam half-shouts at Bucky in amusement.

“Sam, besides the airport, when would I have been to New Orleans?” Bucky sighs.

“We’re going. Tonight.” He stands up. “But none of that Bourbon Street bullshit. I know a place,” he says.

_____

The bar is crowded on a Saturday night, but they manage to find a table near the small stage where a band is setting up.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sam says, heading to the bar.

“Sam said he knows the owners?” Bucky asks Sarah.

“Jo and Danny. Yeah,” Sarah says. “Danny served with Sam on his last tour. Real young kid when he served. Took some shrapnel to the chest and face in an RPG explosion and got out early. He and Sam kept in touch.”

Bucky watches Sam talk to a man with a mop of curly, brown hair and an auburn beard behind the bar. From where he sits, Bucky can see a jagged scar peeking out from the top of the man’s beard over his cheek, stopping just below his right eye.

Sam returns with three beers. "Danny says hi," he tells Sarah. "Says he'll come over when he has a free minute."

"Jo around?" Sarah asks.

Sam nods toward the stage. "She's playing tonight. Danny says she's in the office rewriting the set list."

Bucky sips his beer and looks around. When they entered, there was a wave of enthusiasm as people recognized Sam as Captain America, but it seems to have died down and now no one is paying them much attention. Bucky prefers it that way, though he’s happy that people are excited for Sam.

“Speak of the devil,” Sam says, smiling and nodding toward a woman emerging from a door beside the bar marked ‘Employees Only.’ She’s wearing a loose-fitting white tank tucked into light-wash jeans cuffed just above a pair of black combat boots. Her wavy, dark hair fans out behind her as she rushes towards the stage. She's clutching a piece of paper in one hand, and the smile on her face makes Bucky's heart stutter for a moment.

Sam catches the way Bucky is watching Jo as she jumps onto the stage. He elbows Sarah and nods at the lovestruck look on Bucky's face, and they share a smirk. Bucky doesn't notice the exchange. He's too busy studying Jo. Her arms are covered in tattoos, from shoulders to fingers. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, Bucky can see the row of piercings adorning the curve of her ear. There's a gold ring between her nostrils. Bucky's seen some of the kids in Brooklyn with that piercing, but he doesn't know what it's called. He's seen plenty of women like her since moving back to New York — with tattoos and piercings and dark hair — but there's something about the combination with her green eyes and soft smile that makes his mouth go dry and his palm sweat.

He takes another sip of his beer to ground himself.

Jo picks up an acoustic-electric guitar from its stand, swings the strap over her shoulder, and plugs the guitar into a small amp at her feet. She raises her right hand in the air and sets a count with her fingers — one, two, three, four. The band starts, and Jo strums the guitar, smiling at the crowd. When she steps up to the microphone and opens her mouth, Bucky is surprised at how sweet her voice sounds. He was expecting it to be rougher, but it's gentle and warm, and he likes the way her mouth looks as it forms the words to the song.

Next to him, Sam taps his foot along to the music. Bucky can't remember the last time he saw a band play live. God, he thinks, it was before the war, before everything. He takes another sip of his beer before Sarah hands him a fresh bottle. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left the table and gone to the bar. He smiles and nods his thanks.

Sarah leans over and whispers to Bucky just loud enough for Sam to hear, as well, "You should ask her out after the show."

Bucky grimaces and shakes his head. As he told Yori once, there's a dance to these things, and he's eighty years out of practice. Plus, his last date didn't exactly go as planned.

But he can't stop staring at Jo's painted black nails and tattooed fingers as they move across the guitar strings. LOVE is written across the top knuckles of her right hand, HATE on the left. A series of lines and dots decorate her lower knuckles. There’s a snake curling around her left wrist, its inked head resting on her hand, and several large peonies cover the back of her right hand and up her forearm. Bucky wonders what her tattooed hands would look like wrapped around his cock. He also wonders where else on her body she has tattoos and what that voice would sound like when he's between her thighs. Fuck.

The band transitions into another song, and Jo's eyes land on Bucky. She's used to people staring at her, especially when she's on stage, but she's caught by the way his eyes never leave her, never wander to look at the band's female bassist or to Sarah sitting next to him. She's certain his stare could burn a hole right through her, and she wouldn't even complain. He’s fucking gorgeous.

She knows who he is, of course. She’s seen the recent footage of him with Sam in New York and read the Times article detailing his move from assassin to almost Avenger. Plus, her twin brother, Danny, was a bit of a history nerd as a kid so she’s definitely seen a Captain America documentary that mentioned the Howling Commandos. And they may or may not have hidden a fugitive Captain America and Falcon following the Accords.

Jo tears her eyes away from the super soldier and focuses on the rest of the audience. She can see Danny behind the bar, flirting with the man he's been trying to sleep with for the past two weeks. She catches his eye and smiles her encouragement between lyrics. Get his number! she tries to say with her eyes. Danny's usually pretty good at reading her mind. She doesn't know if it's a brother thing or a twin thing or just a Danny thing, but when he holds up his phone in surrender and smiles back at her, she knows he got the message.

The first half of their set ends with a crash of drums and a long guitar riff. Jo takes a swig from the mason jar full of water she keeps on stage. Her eyes meet Bucky's again as she swallows, and he licks his bottom lip. Heat curls in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what else that tongue could do.

Willow, the band's bassist, steps over and whispers in Jo's ear, “If you don’t fuck him after the show, I’m going to."

When Jo looks at her, she can see the amusement dancing in Willow's eyes. She rolls her own eyes and avoids looking directly at Bucky for the rest of the set.

_____

After the last song, Jo thanks the crowd and helps the rest of the band tidy up the stage, unplugging amps and turning off the mics. She's still trying not to look at Bucky, even though she can feel his eyes on her.

"You have to stop staring, man," Sam whispers to Bucky.

"I'm not staring," Bucky grumbles.

Sarah laughs, "You're definitely staring."

“Here," Sam says, "I'll introduce you." And before Bucky can protest, Sam is waving Jo over. "Josephine," Sam says, hugging her.

"Samuel," she returns, smiling. "Congrats on the new gig." She punches his shoulder lightly. "Better you than that John Walker douchebag," she says. Bucky snorts, and she catches his eye and smirks before turning to Sarah. "Hey, Sarah." They exchange pleasantries while Bucky tries to get his tongue to turn back from lead.

Sam points at Bucky, "This is—"

Bucky stands. "Bucky. Barnes."

Jo smiles and shakes his gloved hand. "Jo. Landry," she says, matching his cadence.

Sam was right. Bucky can't stop staring at her. This close, he can see there's a bit of gold in the green of her eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth. She smells like sandalwood and citrus and just a little bit like pot.

Jo returns his stare. His five o’clock shadow doesn’t hide the dimple in his chin, and she briefly imagines pressing her lips against it. She’s trying to name the exact shade of blue of his eyes when Sam clears his throat.

She’s not usually so easily flustered by attractive people, but Bucky's blue eyes and chiseled jaw have done a number on her self-control. “Let me grab a drink,” Jo says, turning quickly.

“No need,” Danny says, appearing in front of her and handing her a glass. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “He’s cute.”

“Please fuck off,” Jo hisses in return, widening her eyes at him. She’s only half-serious, and Danny knows it. It’s a twin thing.

When she looks at Bucky again, he’s smirking, and she wonders if enhanced hearing is a super soldier trait. Bucky pulls out the fourth chair at the small table for her to sit, and Jo can't remember the last time someone did that for her.

"The show was great," Sarah says, grabbing Jo's attention.

"Thanks," Jo replies. "Took a while to get back to it after…” she snaps her fingers but doesn’t finish her sentence.

"You were snapped?" Bucky asks.

Jo nods. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"Cheers," she says sarcastically, raising her glass in a toast. She shakes her head again and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Five years just," she holds her hands open, "gone. Danny was still here, holding all this together by himself."

She tucks one leg under the other, and her knee bumps Bucky’s beneath the table. When she moves to pull her knee away from his, he places a gloved hand on her thigh, holding her leg in place.

Bucky surprises even himself with this move. He hasn’t been this forward with a woman since an auburn-haired nurse in Italy during the war. With her, it was all hands and mouths and skin on skin because he was certain he was going to die any day. Now he supposedly has all the time in the world. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do with it.

But in this moment, he's comfortable here, in this tiny bar, with a beer in his hand and Jo's knee pressed against his. He's confident that Sam would never introduce him to someone he couldn't trust.

Bucky's flirted with Sarah, sure, but that was mostly to irritate to Sam. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, the thought of something happening between himself and Sarah and then ending badly and ruining his relationship with Sam makes his stomach hurt. Pursuing Jo seems safer in that regard. She and Sam are friends, but if — when, he thinks — he ruins things, he can just go back to New York instead of losing his only friend.

Jo asks Sarah about AJ and Cass to distract herself from the butterflies forming in her stomach at Bucky’s touch, and Sam starts a story about the boys' latest interests. Bucky is content to listen to the three of them talk, his eyes barely leaving Jo. When she flicks her gaze over to him every now and then, she doesn't seem phased by his staring, and she hasn't pulled her knee away from where it's softly touching his. After a while, Danny emerges from behind the bar and joins their table, introducing himself to Bucky with a firm handshake.

While Danny and Sam trade updates about people they know, Jo leans towards Bucky and asks, “You want another drink?”

“Sure,” Bucky replies.

Jo doesn’t say anything else, just nods her head toward the bar, stands, and offers Bucky her hand. He takes it, the leather glove of his right hand warm against her palm. He wishes he could feel her skin without the gloves between them. He doesn’t usually wear them around Sam and Sarah and everyone in Delacroix, but he wasn’t sure how the metal arm would be perceived at this bar he’s never been to. Sam told him not to worry about it, but Bucky doesn’t like to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Jo leads him through the sea of tables to a barstool, then moves behind the bar and grabs him a fresh bottle of the beer he's been drinking all night. "Unless you want something stronger," she says, pausing before she hands it to him.

"This is good," Bucky replies.

She pops the top and hands him the bottle. He takes a sip as he watches her maneuver around the bartender on duty to fix herself another whiskey sour before taking a seat on the barstool next to him.

"Full disclosure; because it's only fair," she says, taking a sip of her drink. "I know who you are, Sergeant Barnes. Not the whole story, but bits and pieces."

Bucky pauses. He searches her eyes for the fear he's expecting but finds none. "And you're okay with that?" he asks.

Jo quirks the corner of her mouth up in a half-smile and says, “If Sam trusts you, I trust you."

“I’m not great with meeting new people, and I was telling myself the same thing about you," Bucky admits, almost sheepishly.

“You know we can never tell Sam about this, right?" Jo says, conspiratorially. "We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Never,” Bucky agrees, and knocks his beer bottle lightly against her glass in understanding.

They talk for a while, just the two of them alone at the end of the bar. Jo asks him how he likes Louisiana ("Hot, but the people are friendly"); where he's staying ("Sarah's"); when he's heading back to New York ("A week from tomorrow"); what he likes to do for fun ("Still figuring that out"); his favorite place ("Wakanda") and favorite book ("The Hobbit"); and a myriad of other questions — some of which Bucky answers easily and some that make him pause. He makes her give her own answers to each one in turn.

Jo leans close to Bucky so she can hear him over the noise of the room, and he takes the opportunity to study her features more closely. He's practically mapped all of her face when her eyes leave his for a brief second and land on Sam, Sarah, and Danny staring at them from the table across the room.

"Don't look now," she whispers, leaning even closer, "But we seem to have an audience."

Bucky makes a big show of looking over his shoulder at the group.

"I said 'don't look!'" Jo laughs and swats casually at his arm.

Bucky takes the opportunity to pin her hand with his own, holding it tightly and licking his bottom lip before smiling at her. He can see the blush paint her cheeks and creep down her neck and chest.

He likes Jo, likes how easy it feels to be around her. He isn't used to that. He isn't used to feeling comfortable with people. Hell, he thinks, I barely feel comfortable with myself. But there's something about Jo that makes him feel safe and calm. Of course, there's attraction there — plenty of it — but he's sure it's more than that.

For her part, Jo is enamored with Bucky. She likes his hard edges and his snark, but she also likes the small glimpses he's given her of the man beneath all of that. She doesn't usually fall for people so easily, but she's found herself drowning in the sea of blues that make up Bucky's eyes, and she doesn't want to be rescued. How fucking cliche, she tells herself.

"We should probably go back over there," Bucky says, squeezing her hand once before releasing it.

They both stand and make their way back to the table. Bucky pulls Jo's chair out for her again, but this time, he makes sure to pull it a little closer to his chair in the process. This doesn't go unnoticed by Sam who smirks at him. Bucky returns the smirk with a thin-lipped smile of his own before scooting even closer to Jo.

Jo finds it hard to focus on the conversation in front of her with Bucky's warm body so close to her own, and she realizes she misses the pleasant feeling of his gloved hand around hers. She places her own hand on his thigh and hopes he gets the hint.

Bucky’s fascinated by even the slightest movements of Jo's tattooed fingers, and when her hand rests on his denim-clad thigh, he thinks the sight alone might kill him. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls the glove off his right hand and links his own flesh and bone fingers with hers.

Jo doesn't look at Bucky — she's trying not to draw attention to her hand in his lap — but Bucky watches the corner of her mouth quirk upwards into a smile, and he squeezes her hand in response.

The conversation continues a bit longer before Danny leaves the table to check in with his bartender. Jo excuses herself to get another drink, and Bucky watches her pop behind the bar to fill a glass for herself.

"I need to get home, relieve the babysitter," Sarah says when she finishes her beer.

"We're heading out then," Sam says, then turns to Bucky, "You coming?"

Bucky looks toward Jo and says, "No, I'm gonna stick around. I'll get a cab back or get a hotel room in the city."

Sam smirks. "I don't think you're gonna need a hotel room, man."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Just promise me you'll use protection," Sam laughs. "We don't need any little super soldiers running around just yet."

Bucky gives him a sarcastic smile, but realizes Sam's probably right, and he definitely doesn't have any condoms in his wallet. He's not planning on sleeping with Jo tonight — he just met her, and he's not sure he's ready for that yet — but if the army taught him anything, it's to be prepared. As if reading his mind, Sam pulls out his wallet and places a condom in Bucky's palm before pulling him in for a hug and clapping him on the back.

"Have fun, man," Sam says.

Sam and Sarah say their goodbyes to Danny and Jo on their way out, and Bucky joins Jo at the bar, sitting on the barstool next to her where they sat earlier.

"Sticking around, soldier?" she asks. She reaches for his dog tags and tugs them gently. The drinks have been strong, and she's feeling more flirtatious than she would otherwise.

"If you don't mind," Bucky replies.

Jo smiles and reaches for his hand this time. "Not at all."

"Are you gonna finish your interrogation of me?" Bucky asks, amusement apparent in his voice.

Jo laughs in return. “I thought I'd read your palm instead," she says, turning his hand over in her own.

Bucky snorts but doesn't pull his hand away. "Is this a trick you use on all the guys?"

"And girls," Jo says, meeting his eyes. Then she studies his hand carefully, running her index finger across the lines that crisscross his palm.

"Your dominant hand," she continues, "determines your future, while your non-dominant hand is tied to your past."

Bucky snorts again at the truth of it all.

"I'm not making this up!" Jo laughs. "I mean, someone did, but I'm not!" She can see the laughter shining in Bucky's eyes, so she goes on, "Your head line is deep, meaning your thinking is clear and focused, but it's also curved downward which indicates a creative spirit and an appetite for literature and fantasy." She looks up at him, "Explains the love for Tolkien."

"I'm not sure I'm buying this," Bucky says.

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're gonna give me a hard time over palm reading," Jo laughs.

"The aliens were real," Bucky deadpans.

"And in New Orleans, palm reading and psychics and crystal balls and voodoo are real," Jo says, still laughing. "But I promise not to read your palm again or read your aura or get out the tarot cards."

Bucky likes the way her slight accent makes New Orleans sound more like Nawlins. He also likes the sound of her laughter and the way her face lights up when she smiles. She's still holding his hand in her own, so he turns his palm over in hers and brings her tattooed knuckles to his lips.

_____

Meanwhile, the bar closes, and Danny and the bartender clean glasses and close up for the night.

Danny points at Jo as he comes around the bar. "I’m locking up then heading upstairs," he says.

"Thanks, love," Jo replies.

Danny walks the bartender out and locks the front door, then retraces his steps to the back of the bar. On his way past Jo, he stops and kisses her on the cheek, saying, "Be good. And set the alarm."

He turns to Bucky. "And you, Sergeant Barnes," he says, pointing at him now, "I know you're an Avenger or whatever, but if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Bye, Danny," Jo says, rolling her eyes as he disappears through the door marked 'Employees Only.' "Don't worry about him," Jo says, turning back to Bucky.

“Older brother, right?” Bucky says. He understands; he was an older brother once.

“Twins, actually,” Jo smiles.

Bucky takes a sip of his beer. "Sarah said Danny served with Sam," he says.

"Yeah. Afghanistan. A lifetime ago," Jo says. “He only had one more mission before he could come home so he switched with someone. An RPG barely missed the helicopter he was in, and he was pretty badly injured in the explosion and the resulting crash. Almost lost an eye. He came home, got out of the Air Force, went to business school. Now we own the bar..." She pauses to take the last sip of her drink. "...and the building. Sam's really helped Danny get past everything."

"He's good at that," Bucky says.

"Another thing we can never tell him," Jo laughs.

"Agreed. So, when do I get to ask about your tattoos?" he questions.

"What do you want to know?" she asks.

Bucky licks his bottom lip. "Anything."

He likes her dagger tattoo the best. It’s inked on the inside of her right forearm, nestled amongst the peonies, the hilt facing the crook of her elbow and the knife’s tip pointed toward her wrist. It’s feminine and dangerous and incredibly sexy. She blushes when he tells her how much he likes it. He doesn't tell her it reminds him of one of his favorite knives, currently tucked at the bottom of his backpack back in Sarah's living room.

"In some ways, they're my armor," she explains. "When I'm on stage, people look at the tattoos, not me, and I kind of like that. It lets me be whoever I want to up there."

Bucky understands the desire to hide better than anyone. But she knows who he is so there's really no point in hiding from her any longer. Plus, he feels like his arm is something she would understand, something she could accept — not just because of her brother's military record but because of her own unique body modifications.

He pulls his left glove off and shrugs out of his leather jacket, revealing the vibranium arm beneath his black t-shirt.

Jo takes in the black metal and gold details. "That," she says, pointing to his arm, "is lovely."

"It's lethal," Bucky warns.

She cocks her head to the side and says, "If you're trying to scare me, it won't work, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky can't stop the corner of his lip from pulling up in the slightest hint of a smile.

"Okay,” she says, placing her palms flat on the bar top. “You want another beer?" she asks.

Jo stands and turns to move behind the bar, but Bucky's vibranium hand on her arm stops her. She looks at him curiously, and he slides his arm behind her back and pulls her flush against his chest. She settles between his open thighs, her palms resting gently on top of his legs. He's staring at her so intensely she's convinced he willburn that hole right through her, but she can't bring herself to look away.

He leans in, his lips only a breath away from hers.

"Can I kiss you?" Bucky finally asks, his flesh hand moving up to cup her cheek.

"Please," Jo whispers, desperately.

Bucky closes the distance between them, and his lips meet hers. He's hesitant at first, but when he feels Jo respond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing even closer, he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens them for him. She tastes like bourbon and lemon from the whiskey sours she's been drinking, and Bucky loves it. His tongue sweeps along the roof of her mouth, and Jo moans. Bucky is determined to hear that sound again.

He kisses across the corner of her mouth and over her jaw. The hand that was cupping her cheek moves to her hair to angle her head backwards and give him better access to the bare skin of her neck. He laves his tongue over the corded muscles there, then nips at the skin with his teeth. She moans again, and Bucky is on fire.

Jo's right hand weaves into his short hair and tugs until his mouth comes away from her neck. He catches his breath while Jo nuzzles his nose with her own and places a soft kiss against the Cupid's bow of his upper lip. His eyes meet hers, and her pupils are blown wide with lust.

The need to kiss her again is overwhelming. Bucky’s lips find hers, and Jo somehow leans even closer into his body, her hands tracing down his chest to his waist. Bucky lets his own hands move to Jo’s ribs, resting just beneath her chest, his thumbs teasing the underside of each breast. Jo gasps when Bucky’s right thumb moves across her taut nipple.

Fuck, he thinks, I need to slow down. While he’s shared kisses with the handful of women he’s met on dating apps, he hasn’t done anything this intimate in a lifetime.

Bucky pulls away, panting. He rests his forehead against Jo's and stares into her green eyes.

"I should leave," he says. “I’m getting carried away. I…I want to do this right.”

And he does. Desperately. He wants to buy her flowers and take her out and learn what makes her swoon. But he also wants to map every tattoo on her body with his fingers and tongue and then fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Jo laughs breathily. “We don’t have to do anything, but it’s almost three o'clock in the morning and your ride already left. You can sleep on my couch if you want to be a gentleman.”

Bucky groans. “I should be a gentleman."

She kisses him again, lightly, then moves away to set the alarm and turn the rest of the lights out. She leads him through the 'Employees Only' door and up a set of stairs to her apartment.

"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" Jo asks, as she unlocks the door.

"No," Bucky says. As far as he knows, he's not allergic to anything thanks to the knock-off serum, but he doesn't say that.

Inside her apartment, Jo kicks off her combat boots at the door, and Bucky does the same, leaving them both in their socked feet. There's a fluffy black cat sitting on the back of the green velvet sofa.

"That's Toulouse," Jo says. "Or Louie. He doesn't answer to either, so it really doesn't matter what I call him."

The cat regards Bucky with indifference before standing up, stretching, and leaving the room.

"Guest bathroom’s just there,” she nods. “Let me get you some blankets and pillows for the couch," Jo continues. "Unless you've changed your mind about being a gentleman." She smirks at him.

Bucky laughs through his nose. “Don’t tempt me.”

Jo leaves the room for a moment, which gives Bucky a chance to look around. He's standing in her living room; one wall features a set of French doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the street, and the opposite wall holds bookcases stuffed from floor to ceiling with books, framed photographs, and various knick-knacks. From where he stands, he can see a small room with an upright piano and guitars hanging on the walls. The exterior walls of Jo's apartment are brick, and everything else is set in jewel tones. He likes it. It's dark and cozy, and from what he knows of Jo so far, her living space matches her well.

When she returns, Jo is holding a stack of blankets and pillows. She sets them on the ottoman and moves across the room to close the curtains.

"There are some sweats and a t-shirt there that should fit you" she says, turning to Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky says, smiling softly.

Now that they're here, in her apartment, Bucky isn't sure what he's supposed to do or say. He can still feel the heat of Jo's lips on his, and he's painfully aware that the condom Sam gave him is still in his pocket.

Jo must sense the hesitation rolling off him because she crosses the room to stand in front of him and takes his hands in hers.

"Get some sleep, Sarge," she says, squeezing his hands in tandem before dropping them.

"Goodnight, Jo," Bucky returns.

_____

Bucky lays on Jo's couch in the dark beneath blankets that smell like laundry detergent. He wishes they smelled like her. He unlocks his phone and looks up the distance between New Orleans and Brooklyn. Just over thirteen hundred miles. He sighs and drops his phone onto the coffee table before closing his eyes and reliving each kiss as he falls asleep.

On the other side of the wall, Jo falls across her bed, deflated. She likes this guy. She wants him — painfully so. But leave it to her to fall for the one guy in her bar who lives half-way across the country.

_____

next chapter

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funkymbtifiction · 7 years

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Hi, Charity! I have been having an identity crisis lately. (Yet another of many in the past year of a lot of self discovery and doubt). I spent quite a while thinking I was either enfp or infp, after retyping myself several times from intp to intj to infj and then xnfp. But recently I became convinced that I am an infj and was right in my typing when I first learnt about the underlying cognitive functions (intx was pretty much just from online tests). I know this sounds very vague so far and I’m not giving any details of why or how.

Hey, Mar.

Wish your e-mail address had worked, so we could have this talk in private. :)

Since you were vague in your descriptions of Ne/Ni, I wasn't able to tell which one appears to be dominant, but here’s a few thoughts reaped from the post:

I struggle with seeing myself clearly, but I don’t know if it’s because of Fe or because I’ve had a tough family situation growing up where I was basically not allowed to have an identity separate from my caretakers. I am easily swayed by other people’s opinions and start to doubt my convictions but again, don’t know if it’s Fe or poor self-confidence (or both?).

It could be Fe if you allow other people’s emotions to cloud yours, or it could be the Ne-dom problem of being unable to see yourself clearly. Every single Ne-dom I've ever known / talked to, myself included, had a hell of a time finding their own type and still cannot see themselves very clearly, because Ne is so busy gaining 'outside perspectives' 24/7 and has such poor self-awareness (inferior Si) that it tends to believe whatever idea anyone throws at it about themselves, even if it doesn't match who they are. The idea just sticks to them and them being a Ne/Si, they cannot properly filter it out (Si: Hey, I’m not like that!).

I could especially relate, among other things, to that sense of impending doom and being stuck in the same situation I am currently in and no hope for a better future. Not being able to imagine a better future for myself and seeing only all the ways in which I am stuck and will be stuck stresses me out quite a lot, actually. Sometimes I obsess over it.

All intuitives feel that staying stagnant is a literal hell, so this could be Ni OR Ne. But Ne/Si tends to have a more generic 'I'm not sure what I want, but this ain't it and I hope this isn’t all I ever have from my life' approach and NiSe tends to think, 'it's time I stop fixating on this single vision and DO SOMETHING TO MAKE IT REAL” followed by fear it may fail and then they’ll have nothing, since no other dream / career / ambition has outlasted this one.

To the point that sometimes I can only find solace in fantasizing about meeting that one person who will save me from my troubles, as unrealistic, unhealthily codependent and disempowering as it sounds.

Free amateur psych advice: other people cannot save you, because other people are just as imperfect as you are. This is common in a fearful N user, who tends to idealize and fantasize about a hero coming to rescue them, because they are so uncomfortable interacting with the sensory world on their own. The answer is that you have to save yourself, since no one else will. :)

An aspect of why I believed myself to be an enfp is that I could relate a lot to your more personal posts (especially about writing) or whenever you’d offer personal examples to illustrate type. Or in doubting my introversion because sometimes I would talk to a person and get so energized by that human connection.

What kind of energy? Emotional (Fe) energy? Or I MET SOMEONE FULL OF GREAT IDEAS AND NOW I'M WIRED (Ne) energy?

Right now I’m in the middle of rewriting a novel. It changes with each draft. People change. Motives change. Ideas change. Hell, I decided to change the murderer because another possibility will clean up the plot better so now I’m having to rewrite entire sections and leave other characters out / fill the holes they leave behind. I’m fine with it. It’s fun and somewhat easy. It energizes me. That’s high Ne. “This was fine last week but now it bores me and I have a better way to approach it, so it’s all gonna change and continue changing until I find something that works.” I sometimes joke that me being me, as a Ne, I’m not ‘done’ with something until I can read it twenty-six times in the editing process without wanting to change something at its fundamental level. I know I found the RIGHT idea, after using and discarding a bunch of alternate possibilities.

(My INFJ friend basically writes her novels in head, figures them all out in advance, then sits down and writes it out and changes very little in revision. Ni.)

I struggle to see if I do actually perceive the emotions of those around me and can easily step into someone else’s perspective and I’m observant of the unspoken agreements in a social situation, or if I’m delusional and I just like to think I’m an empath because it makes me feel better about myself.

Perceiving them (Ne) or feeling them (Fe)? When you are in a group, are you watching people so you can SPECULATE on their emotions (Fi) or are you immersed IN their emotions and sometimes lose yourself in the process (Fe)? Are you GUESSING at their feelings (Fi) based on a sense of inner self (”Are they bored? She looks bored. Can’t other people see she’s bored? I would not want to be bored, so we need to keep her from being bored. How are other people not see this?” Fi thinking can actually mean, “Because this would bore ME, I’m projecting being bored onto her when she’s not actually bored.”)

Side note: intuitives often over-estimate their own skills because their intuition / imagination is fantasizing an ideal self, instead of using their real self. And coming crashing down to earth and realizing they were wrong / are not very good at that / really are not a God is somewhat crushing to their ego.

One thing that really made me lean towards infj as a possibility is realizing that, at least for me, writing is a way of expressing and externalizing my feelings.

Why is this specifically shifting you toward INFJ? INFJs do not have a corner on writing. This is equally if not more common in the INFPs. Every Fi-dom poet of the last five hundred years can testify to externalizing their feels in writing.

MY emotions get so tied up inside myself that until I get them out on paper (Te) I cannot organize them or even figure out how to say how I feel -- and that's crucial, because Fi/Te types may resort to metaphors, ducking conversations, or intense internal monologues that may never be voiced (because it takes time to organize their thoughts before they speak on an emotional level) while Fe/Ti types can usually simply sum up their feelings vocally when asked, since that's what Fe/Ti does.

So, are you externalizing to get others' feedback on your feelings and affirmation (FeTi) or are you writing because you know no other clear way to restructure and share your abstract (hard to describe) feelings (FiTe)?

Before, I believed I had Fi because I have strong beliefs about individuality and personal integrity and I passionately hate the kind of group-think that leads to lack of personal integrity in favor of what the majority wants. But at the same time I strongly believe in equality. In fact, I believe what makes us equals is (as corny as it sounds) precisely that we’re all unique and irreplaceable and have a unique purpose for our life, that nobody else could fulfill quite like us.

You should ask yourself: do I pass immediate moral judgment upon hearing new information like a Fi-dom or do I internalize / interact with the ideas before I judge their ethics like a NeFi or do I try and fit the new information into my internal worldview and see how to use it to motivate people in a NiFe way?

Another reason for me thinking Fi is that somewhere along the line I had convinced myself that I hated people and I took on the identity of a misanthrope.

Um. Why would this connect to Fi in your mind?

I have been struggling big time with having too high expectations of myself and with my overall perfectionism, which more often paralyzes me instead of making me work harder. I am studying again after a few years, and the deadlines are just killing me. They feel like life or death. I obviously don’t know how to work with a schedule, I did 90% of the workload of two weeks in the first two days and then felt burnt out and spent the next week and a half distracting myself by researching random non academic stuff just for personal amusement, like mbti and the enneagram, and how to make pumpkin pie, and the relationship between veganism and the tv series Hannibal. Procrastination is definitely something I’m good at. It’s two days before the deadline and I’m struggling with that 10% of work that I haven’t done yet, and after spending the whole day stressing out about it and not being able to write a single sentence of my essay on cave art from the paleolithic, I am writing this instead. At least, just by writing this, I’ve already gained some clarity on what’s going on inside my head, which is always helpful.

I’m 90 pages into a book on perfectionism from a psychological perspective at the moment, but Jordan Peterson has wise words for this sort of behavior: finished is better than perfect.

I too am a perfectionist, but for me it's more spewing ideas out on the page (Ne) and then anxiously trying to formulate them into some kind of structure that has an overall point (Te) and then agonizing over the details in case I got something wrong that will cause people to throw out my good ideas in favor of the misinformation (low Si) due to Ne placing unrealistic standards on this situation due to being combined with perfectionism, which is fear based (if this isn’t flawless, people will judge it harshly and not listen to what it says).

I’m sorry I could not give your type based on what you wrote, but hopefully I explained enough about my thinking process and gave you good enough questions that you can find your type by being honest about your mental processing leading to behaviors.

- ENFP Mod

#question #enfp #infp #infj #mbti #submission

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dylawa · 4 years

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Having Lived and Loved: The Playlist (Part 3)

Here is Part 3 to my HLAL Playlist description series! The purpose of this post is to put all the important songs in one place, as well as add descriptions for where they fit in, and my reasoning as such. I’ll put it all under a Read More of course.

The series is split up since I can only share five videos per post, so expect more to come, and know you’re entering in media-res if you haven’t read the first post! I will also mention, there will be more songs in the playlist than there are directly mentioned in this series of posts. That is because the playlist will include all songs related to the chapters’ titles, not just the ones that have significance character/story-line wise. Links to all parts and the full playlist are at the bottom of the post!

For this part, we’ll be focusing on character-specific pieces (for members of Comet’s agency, in particular), not just story songs! For obvious reasons, All Might will not be included, but if you really want me to assign a song to him, let me know! In the meantime, strap in!

Comet: “Four” -- Sleeping At Last

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Now, as a disclaimer: there are dozens of songs I wish I could assign Comet all in this one post, and maybe I’ll make a separate playlist for that! But for now, we have this one selected piece, and this is for my personal interpretation of Comet-- feel free to assign her whatever song you think fits best for your own version (Psst, in fact, I encourage you to send them to me)!

Bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust For a moment we get to be glorious Ice sculptures adorned in light Sand castles built tall in between the tides Maybe I'm hiding behind metaphor Maybe my heart needs to break to be sure One day I'll wear it all on my sleeve The insignificant with the sacred unique

Now, Ryan O’Neal’s “Atlas: Year Two” project encompasses all personality types on the Enneagram type test (which is more like an astrology type thing than anything actually based in science, similar to the Myers-Briggs test), and this is what a four is described as:

“Fours are self-aware, sensitive, and reserved. They are emotionally honest, creative, and personal, but can also be moody and self-conscious. Withholding themselves from others due to feeling vulnerable and defective, they can also feel disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living. They typically have problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity.

At their Best: inspired and highly creative, they are able to renew themselves and transform their experiences.

Basic Fear: That they have no identity or personal significance

Basic Desire: To find themselves and their significance (to create an identity).”

Seems Comet-esque to me!

Next, I’ll pick a song for our resident mechanic and armor-tech, Ayane!

Ayane: “Akkala Ancient Laboratory” -- Breath of the Wild

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Now, I would like everyone to know, I DID NOT base Ayane’s design off of Purah from Breath of the Wild! That being said, they share... a lot of undeniable similarities. Fan art of all HLAL characters will becoming eventually, but for reference, Ayane is also short (think Gran-Torino height), has white hair, side shaved and tied into a ponytail, and her goggles most definitely give her the same big-eyed look as Purah. Unlike Purah, however, she actually looks her age, crows feet and all. The woman is not young, my friends.

I would be remiss to gloss over the fact that Ayane and Purah also share a similar bubbly and scientific personality, and are constantly working on a new project of some kind (either to the joy or dismay of their acquaintances). It’s for this reason that, instead of seeking out some other technologically-sounding song, I decided one of the laboratory themes from BotW would fit best.

I’m kinda flipping Purah the bird by using the Akkala lab theme instead of Hateno, but it just fits better overall.

Modi-Mutation (Mod): “Natural” -- Imagine Dragons

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Not so fun fact about Mod; I... don’t have a name for him yet. So I’m going to fix that right now! Let’s see... Rin Masashi. Rin meaning cold and disciplined, and Masashi meaning, basically (and I mean basically), “leader’s will”. Cool! Moving on.

Mod doesn’t necessarily want to be the Number One Hero, but he’s still clearly passionate about his work, and desires to work alongside only the best of the best. Anything less would slow him down, and prevent him from doing his job properly, in his eyes. Therefore, it’s absolutely necessary to surround himself with competent heroes. Being hired on by Shimuzu, aka The Boss, was equally a dream come true and a skeptical circumstance, given her questionable past, but her power was something Mod could not ignore.

All that being said, he doesn’t have an issue with inexperienced or low power heroes being in the industry itself... he just doesn’t want anything to do with them for himself. Which is almost just as bad as the alternative.

Ichiro: “Intriguing Possibilities” -- The Social Network

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First, I’m going to get just a little vulgar here: fuck Mark Zuckerberg. Okay, now that that’s out of the way, this soundtrack slaps, and has the overall aura of “progress at a price,” as well as sounding both technological and other-worldly. The morality and ethical nature of Ichiro’s use of his Quirk is... foggy, at best, depending on your interpretation of what the concept of a human soul-- or, really, any soul-- encompasses. I don’t feel like I did the concept enough justice in WWICB, but I did what I could with what I had, and I hope I explained my thoughts on it well enough to make sense and to make a good, if not valid, point.

Funnily enough, if you think about it, Ichiro’s Quirk is closer to something of a poltergeist than it is to anything technological in nature, but as a result of his upbringing, he was inspired to use his Quirk towards electronics instead of, say, plants, or furniture. The possibility is absolutely there, the only issue is, if the item in question doesn’t have its own form of locomotion or communication... well, that would be a pretty crappy fate, and even a mindless, heartless soul doesn’t deserve that kind of life.

The boy may now be a man of science, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand morality. It may just take him a nudge here or there to remember his own humanity.

And, finally, we move on to the leader of the agency’s operations.

The Boss: “Thirty Three” -- Smashing Pumpkins

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Speak to me in a language I can hear Humor me before I have to go Deep in thought I forgive everyone As the cluttered streets greet me once again

I know I can't be late, supper's waiting on the table Tomorrow's just an excuse away So I pull my collar up and face the cold, on my own

Manami Shimizu has lead a tumultuous life. I’ve hinted at it here and there throughout the series, but now I’m going to be spelling it out, mostly because I haven’t seen anyone else comment on it. Practically nothing is known about her childhood, as it’s something she never speaks about, and only marginally more is known about her time as a criminal. The main factor everyone knows, is she became very influential in her sphere of activity, rising the ranks of her own criminal organization to become its leader in short time. This was only stopped when a very young All Might stepped in to handle the reality-ripper/borrower himself.

When Shimizu was offered a second chance, no one expected it, least of all Shimizu herself. After all, second chances were non-existent throughout the course of her life thus far. However, All Might knew her power was valuable, almost as much as her will and her heart, powerful and brave. What was even more surprising than that act of mercy, was the fact that Shimizu took it. So, almost overnight, Shimizu changed from being one of the fastest rising villains Japan had seen, to becoming a hero who knew villains from the inside out almost better than any other, and she dived into the role willingly. She was given her agency after the previous owner retired, and from there, she has created one of the most efficient hero agencies in Japan.

Despite all of this improvement, of course, it makes sense that one cannot always fully leave behind the life they once knew. Even if her actions today translate into nothing that could be related to her old gang, the memories are still there, in the corners of her mind; the things she fought for then, and how they have changed her now.

Ultimately, all she wants, all she has ever wanted, is for life to be better. Even back in the day, that was her ultimate goal; a better life, a happier life. It’s impossible to strive for perfection, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try, even if she has to do so on her own.

And that concludes this third post regarding members of the hero agency we’ve come to know and love! Next post, we’ll go over non-agency characters, some beloved, and some a little less known!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Full Playlist]

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jessicakehoe · 5 years

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5 Instagram Poets Who Will Warm Up Your Winter Blues

Blue Monday might have started as a press release to promote travel in January, but whether or not the equation—yes, there’s “math” to this—is total bologna-pseudoscience, it’s hard to deny the blues that come with cold weather. To help you through the chill, we’ve created an updated list of on-the-rise Instagram poets who have embraced the public platform as a way to make their voices heard. If you’re a fan of the insta-poets we’ve showcased in the past (Nikita Gill, Nayyirah Waheed and Yrsa Daley-Ward), these five talented writers are the perfect people to fill your day with sunshine and similes.

Tyler Knott Gregson

Best known for his Typewriter Series and book Chasers of the Light, Knott writes almost exclusively about love. His words are loaded with passion, softness and authenticity. Reading one of his poems feels like unfolding a love letter meant just for you—exposing, yet comforting. He’ll have you tagging your loved ones in the comments in no time, the perfect solution when your own words don’t feel like enough.

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Some days we are earth tones, all greys and greens and we fade into the landscape, into the weather. Some days we are neon, we pop and contrast the world around us. We explode in color and light. Some days all that rain makes one hell of a rainbow. . 📸 by @christinefigs

A post shared by Tyler Knott Gregson (@tylerknott) on Oct 6, 2018 at 7:04am PDT

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Typewriter Series #2441 by Tyler Knott Gregson

A post shared by Tyler Knott Gregson (@tylerknott) on Dec 2, 2018 at 4:58pm PST

Morgan Harper Nichols

Morgan Harper Nichols is the ultimate hype girl. She is the supportive, wisdom filled friend that we all need when the blues begin to weigh us down. Her profile, which she uses as a platform for mental wellness and self-care, is loaded with positivity and empathy. Nichols writes about personal growth, accepting your failures and moving forward. She is happy to share, with templates and phone wallpapers available for free download, so that her reminders are with you always. My own lock screen currently reads, “she does not know what the future holds, but she is grateful for slow and steady growth.”

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“Tell the story of the mountain you climbed. Your words could become a page in someone else’s survival guide.” I wrote these words for someone else, but I need this reminder too. ⠀ I have always naturally been a quieter, more inward type, and for most of life, expressing feelings and emotions was a challenge for me (Enneagram 5, INTJ). Because of that, I often thought that because I did not naturally have certain personality traits, there was no way I could connect with others, even when it came to the things I made. ⠀ I had a great family growing up, but outside of the home, I struggled to figure out where I “fit.” I struggled making friends and often blamed myself for not being more extroverted or “interesting.” This sent me inward: Deep inside my journals where I would say all the things I was never able to say during the day. I would write things for people but never knew how to share it with them. I would fill pages of composition books just to try to understand why I felt unheard and unseen. I started to convince myself that the best way to show up in the world was to not to be myself. Even in an environment where my parents lovingly encouraged my gifts as a writer and artist (I thank God for the encouragement my parents gave and still give me everyday), I still didn’t feel like I fit anywhere in the outside world. But there was this inside world where I could draw and write out all of the things I never figured out how to say during the day. Over time, I have finally begin to see: in the same way I learned to fill my journal page by page, I could learn to connect with others one by one. Showing up in the world does not mean that I have to show up everywhere all at once. Connecting around real people and real stories, in relationships and art is about the one. Impactful things can be said on big stages and in chart topping songs but they can also be said in hospital parking lots and handwritten letters. I have come to believe that in a world that often seems too crowded or busy to notice meaningful things, there is yet still room for each our stories and I just hope that the art I make, page by page, person by person is just one example of that.

A post shared by Morgan Harper Nichols (@morganharpernichols) on May 19, 2018 at 10:25am PDT

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When you start to feel like things should have been better this year, remember the mountains and valleys that brought you here. They are not accidents, and those moments were not in vain. You are not the same. You have grown and you are growing, you are breathing, you are living, you are wrapped in endless, boundless grace. And things will get better, there is more to you than yesterday. — Morgan Harper Nichols And if it happens to be one of these evenings/mornings/afternoons where reading it aloud or writing it down might bring some comfort, this is for you When I start to feel like things should have been better this year, I will remember the mountains and valleys that brought me here. They are not accidents, and those moments were not in vain. I am not the same. I have grown and I am growing, I am breathing, I am living, I am wrapped in endless, boundless grace. And things will get better, there is more to me than yesterday. ♥️🙏✨

A post shared by Morgan Harper Nichols (@morganharpernichols) on Nov 7, 2018 at 8:28pm PST

Mustafa Ahmed

Raised in the public housing of Regent Park (a Canadian boy!), Ahmed, who goes by “Mustafa the Poet” is a proud Muslim songwriter, poet and spoken word artist. He writes about the struggles of mental illness, loss and poverty, but he is full of a hopefulness that is infectious to his audience. You may recognize his name from The Weeknd’s song “Attention,” which he co-wrote and performed, but his fame started at age twelve when he garnered attention from Toronto’s 2009 Hot Docs Festival for his poem “A Single Rose.” Watch Mustafa continue to bloom on his Instagram.

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Live in peace fam, there's no amount of money or pride or success that's worth your peace!! May you rest in it one day too

A post shared by Mustafa (@mustafathepoet) on Sep 11, 2017 at 2:39pm PDT

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Patience 🌥

A post shared by Mustafa (@mustafathepoet) on Feb 4, 2016 at 12:17am PST

Samantha Jayne

Samantha is less about inspiration and more about relatability. Under her handle @quarterlifepoems, she writes about mundane, millennial crises and honestly, it is comedy gold. She writes almost-limericks paired with colourful doodles about accidental double taps on Instagram, social anxiety and financial confusion, all of which make you feel slightly less alone. She uses social media to make a refreshing statement on who twenty-somethings truly are behind all of the perfectly curated profiles. Her work is clearly catching on, her popular poetry being picked up as a television series, which will premiere at Sundance and air on FX this Spring.

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got me a solar earring 💫

A post shared by Samantha Jayne (@samanthajayne) on Sep 6, 2018 at 7:17am PDT

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💁 #longhairdontcare #whatevs #selflove #instagood #me #smile #nyc #la #sunglasses #cute #photooftheday #poetry #quarterlifecrisis #twenties #girl #funny #happy #picoftheday #instadaily #attitude #ink #igers #fun #summer #drawing #bestoftheday #smile #painting #womenirl #instamood

A post shared by Quarter Life Poetry (@quarterlifepoetry) on Mar 24, 2015 at 10:27am PDT

Haley Macleod

Haley’s following isn’t as large as her fellow poets, with 25.5k, but the Calgary-born writer’s voice is genuine, and her fans are loyal. She writes about love, heartbreak and self-respect, advising readers, and likely herself as well, to choose a life of fulfilment and happiness. Her posts are visually stunning as well, with typewritten pages placed over photographs of seasides and city nights. They evoke a sense of peace and calm, the perfect escape from sharp winds and snowfalls.

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• i hope you find a love who always calls back who never shows up late who pulls you closer in the middle of the night who never again makes you question the word stay who touches you so wild you believe again in the hands of fate who does not rob you of your softness or grace who instead renovates the parts of you that you have labelled damage that you keep hidden away who plants flowers in your lungs so the smell of roses awakes you each day who makes the blood in your veins triumphantly rise who only says i will see you later who never has believed in the word goodbye who can see the universe that exists behind your emerald eyes i hope you find a love that makes you feel nothing but alive who will always always always take the time to see your sunrise • haley macLeod ☁️

A post shared by HM ♱ (@haleymacleod) on Sep 5, 2017 at 2:59pm PDT

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who were you before this all – before the hands of grief turned off the lights of hope inside of your heart. before the lust poisoned your veins and made you forget how to love. before you became this person the world told you to be, instead of wearing the flesh of who you really are. who were you – i know, pain changes people, but healing does too. do your soul a favour; let the light in today. let it softly pour into the scars of your darkness. let it set fire to all of your darkness. bathe in the light. it will be the light that is going to save you; when it comes, let it 🌹•

A post shared by HM ♱ (@haleymacleod) on Nov 6, 2018 at 10:59am PST

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lindyhunt · 5 years

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5 Instagram Poets Who Will Warm Up Your Winter Blues

Tyler Knott Gregson

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A post shared by Tyler Knott Gregson (@tylerknott) on Oct 6, 2018 at 7:04am PDT

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Typewriter Series #2441 by Tyler Knott Gregson

A post shared by Tyler Knott Gregson (@tylerknott) on Dec 2, 2018 at 4:58pm PST

Morgan Harper Nichols

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A post shared by Morgan Harper Nichols (@morganharpernichols) on May 19, 2018 at 10:25am PDT

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A post shared by Morgan Harper Nichols (@morganharpernichols) on Nov 7, 2018 at 8:28pm PST

Mustafa Ahmed

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Live in peace fam, there's no amount of money or pride or success that's worth your peace!! May you rest in it one day too

A post shared by Mustafa (@mustafathepoet) on Sep 11, 2017 at 2:39pm PDT

View this post on Instagram

Patience 🌥

A post shared by Mustafa (@mustafathepoet) on Feb 4, 2016 at 12:17am PST

Samantha Jayne

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got me a solar earring 💫

A post shared by Samantha Jayne (@samanthajayne) on Sep 6, 2018 at 7:17am PDT

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Quarter Life Poetry (@quarterlifepoetry) on Mar 24, 2015 at 10:27am PDT

Haley Macleod

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A post shared by HM ♱ (@haleymacleod) on Sep 5, 2017 at 2:59pm PDT

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A post shared by HM ♱ (@haleymacleod) on Nov 6, 2018 at 10:59am PST

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dfroza · 7 years

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ryan’s new song: “Heart” and how it was made shared below. song #15 in his Atlas: Year Two project

and yes, all of this is the way i risked my own by tearing down its walls for you, to invite you in… (and the hope of a mutual welcoming into your own, One day)

“HEART” - HOW IT WAS MADE:

“Heart” is the fifteenth song (of 25) in my Atlas: Year Two series. The second song written for the theme “Intelligence”: Body, Heart & Mind, inspired by the Enneagram Intelligence Centers. To learn more about this theme, and all of Atlas: Year Two’s themes, please read here!

http://www.sleepingatlast.com/blog/2016/4/18/atlas-themes-explored?rq=themes

“Heart” opens with a secret - my 2½ year old daughter, Lily whispering a heartbeat sound. She’s obsessed with Doc McStuffins and will climb up on my wife or I at random to give us a “check up” - she assembles her doctor tools (she calls her toy stethoscope a “heartbeat”) then she’ll get very quiet while she uses her stethoscope and whispers “bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum” and then tell us we’re all better. It’s one of my favorite things in the universe, so I decided to record it, and made it the opening sound of this song.

As I mentioned in the “Body” how-it-was-made post, for all 3 of these “Intelligence” songs, I wanted to make sure my little family was well represented in each, so along with Lily’s opening “heartbeat”, the song closes with recordings of my wife’s heartbeat, our two little girls heartbeats and my own, all playing simultaneously as the song ends. This song is bookended by my family’s heart.

At its heart, “Heart” is a love song. It’s about being vulnerable and letting ourselves be in love and unafraid - a reckless abandon of sorts. “i am short of breath standing next to you. i am out of my depth at this altitude.” I liked the idea of using heights as a main lyrical theme in this song, because putting ourselves in positions of great heights is risky and dangerous - we fly in airplanes, we climb mountains, we stand inside skyscrapers - all requires a significant amount of risk and trust. I think that’s an accurate description of love. At our best, we go to truly great lengths and heights for the ones we love - simply because our hearts tell us to.

“i’ll be the dangerous ledge, you be the parachute.”

In my marriage, we’re always switching roles, constantly taking turns leading or following each other. I’m so grateful for that partnership, that when I’m losing my footing, she’s pulling the parachute cord. “go ahead and laugh, even if it hurts, go ahead and pull the pin. what if we could risk everything we have, and just let our walls cave in?”

These words are a reminder to always let our guards down with each other, to be vulnerable enough to laugh in the face of risk and fear and danger. The idea of pulling the parachute cord in the lyric before, inspired the line “go ahead and pull the pin” - I really liked that this refers to something explosive like a grenade, to obliterate our walls and guards, but also something life-saving like a parachute cord. So these lyrics are to remind my wife and I to always remember to pull the cord, or to pull the pin as our life unfolds.

Though this song, along with “Body” and “Mind” were inspired by the Enneagram Intelligence Centers, these songs also represent the coming together of the physical (body), emotional (heart) and intellectual (mind) pieces of us. These are the key ingredients that make us, us! Through our body, heart and mind, we process the world around us.

(Brief Enneagram note: If you’re unfamiliar with the Enneagram, (in the words of wikipedia) it is “a model of human personality which is principally understood and taught as a typology of NINE interconnected personality types.“ Each of these nine types fit into one of the three “Intelligence Centers”: Body (the EIGHT, NINE and ONE types), Heart (the TWO, THREE and FOUR types) or Mind (the FIVE, SIX or SEVEN types)

In my friend, Chris Heuertz’s upcoming book on the Enneagram, “The Sacred Enneagram”, he describes the “Heart” types like this “Heart people are social types who feel their way through life by leaning into their emotional intelligence.” And Fr. Richard Rohr explains : “They need affection and esteem. These so-called feeling people don’t have their own feelings; they have everybody else’s feelings! They experience themselves in reaction to the feelings or behaviors of others.” I thought it made good sense for this song be a love song from the perspective of one side, pouring it’s heart out to the other.

When the song was just about complete, I felt like it was soooo close, but missing something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. So I invited my dear friend, Sharon Gerber to play cellos and she did so SO beautifully and I think her instrument serves as the soul to this “Heart”, weaving in and out of each beat.

I used to primarily write songs on guitar, but in recent years, I just can’t escape my love for writing on piano. But the acoustic guitar just felt like the foundation for the “Heart” - there’s just something uniquely special about the acoustic guitar and love songs, so that was my rule: return to my old friend, the acoustic guitar, and begin. It was fun to reminisce with my old guitar!

As I mentioned above, there’s a theme of heights throughout this song - so I tried real hard to make it sound like clouds. It was a fun challenge to try to figure out what floating sounds like… it helps that I kind of have an obsession with taking pictures of clouds and outside of airplane windows (i call it “airplaneography”) So there’s a TON of delicate and swaying melodies and sounds laced throughout. It was strange to write with such an abstract concept, but I so enjoyed it!

Thank you for reading and for listening! So very honored to share this song, which came directly from my heart.

Love, Ryan

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dfroza · 7 years

Video

youtube

A new song released by Sleeping at Last that yes, appears here on YouTube, although it’s still nice to support the artists you like by purchasing their music. kind of like the Old-fashioned way when it was all there was by buying something tangible held in your hands. and maybe we can respect digital art in the same way?

just a thought. but it makes sense to me, to support things with the work of the body that touch the heart and mind.

and so, here’s the email sent this morning that ryan typed up to share his thoughts on how the song was made. it’s rather long, but i enjoyed it.

Dear Friends,

I’m so very delighted to let you know that my brand new song “Atlas: Body” is out TODAY! It should be there in all of your friendly neighborhood digital music stores!!

“BODY” - HOW IT WAS MADE:

“Body” is the fourteenth song (of 25) in my Atlas: Year Two series. The first (of three) songs written for the theme “Intelligence”: Body, Heart & Mind, inspired by the Enneagram Intelligence Centers. (To learn more about this theme, and all of Atlas: Year Two’s themes, read here!)

http://www.sleepingatlast.com/blog/2016/4/18/atlas-themes-explored?rq=themes

Originally, when Atlas: Year Two was mapped out, the three “Intelligence” songs were sequenced like this: Mind, Heart and Body. I thought that made sense on a physical level, top down, head to toe! But in learning more about Enneagram and the three Intelligence Centers, it is actually taught in reverse of that order: Body, Heart and Mind, because, in processing the world around us and the feelings and experiences we have, we first rely on our gut - our instinct (Body), secondly, we process emotionally (Heart) and finally, intellectually (Mind). This is why I rearranged the order of these 3 songs.

Though these three songs were inspired by the Enneagram Intelligence Centers, they also represent the coming together of the physical, emotional and intellectual pieces of us. These are the key ingredients that make us, us! Actually, a better analogy would be cooking tools- these are the pots and pans of who we are. With the body, heart and mind, we process the world around us. Thematically, I really loved the idea of this “Intelligence” EP being a bridge between the “Emotions” EP and the upcoming “Enneagram” EP (9 songs based on the 9 Enneagram types!) - it keeps one foot in the physical and another in the psychological.

“Body” is a song about intuition. The first thing I began singing, before the song was a song, was “i feel it in my bones.” - which is something we say when we don’t know why, but we just know something. It’s another version of a “gut feeling” - I loved that those idioms speak to the physical body and intuition at the same time. I decided those idioms were a little too on the nose for this song, but I used them as the jumping off point of the whole song.

“there’s magic in our bones, a north star in our soul that remembers our way home. there’s magic in our bones.”

That first chorus lyric, “there’s magic in our bones” - this means a lot of things to me.. I think it describes the gift of intuition- it feels buried in us, like something primitive, but at the same time, there’s a lot of wonder or magic around the idea of intuition. In researching “intuition” a bit, I learned that neuroscientists generally say that our brain is constantly searching for and collecting patterns and storing them in our subconscious. I think that’s so true and beautiful. What an incredible magic trick we are capable of! I believe that explains only some of the gift of intuition, that there’s more mystery and real “magic” happening too! An internal compass that we are born with that knows more than we think we know. That’s essentially what this whole song is about.

On a more personal level, this song nods to a recent large life decision my family and I just made. I recently watched a TED talk by Ruth Chang about this. She says that hard decisions are hard because there is no clear answer - and this is actually a good problem. It means that either option isn’t right or wrong. There’s freedom in that. It’s an opportunity to start a new adventure. For my wife and I, January 1st, the new year began with zero plans to buy a new home. Not even on the radar. Then, a couple days later, suddenly we saw a home in town and we fell in love. The home felt right, but we couldn’t explain why - we love our current home, we weren’t looking to move and somehow, we felt a magnetism toward this house. As parents to two little ones (a 2 and a half year old and a 4 month old), the idea of uprooting in anyway right now, especially just “because”, felt totally crazy to us, and yet we couldn’t get the house out of our heads. So, we trusted our gut and we jumped in. So writing this song at a time when there were a LOT of conversations about intuition and why we feel compelled to do the things we do, was probably some really good processing for me. So the line “a north star in our soul that remembers our way home.” is a direct nod to our new home. Also, a teeny tiny nod to the house was the word “bricks” in the opening line…

“a feather is a ton of bricks, or maybe i’m too sensitive…”

Firstly, that opening line was inspired by something Fr. Richard Rohr said in explaining the Enneagram “Body” (or “Gut”) types: “Reality comes at us like one shock wave after another. We take it on like a full body blow every three minutes. EIGHTs fight back, NINEs back off, and we ONEs try to fix, reform, and control reality.” I love that. So the “ton of bricks” line is a tip of the hat to that concept.

That opening lyric is also a play on the adage, “straw that breaks the camel’s back” - there are situations in our life, where we get right up to that breaking point and our intuition kicks in, and we then choose to listen or ignore what it’s telling us. So I liked starting out the song with this abstract concept, and following it up with some second guessing- rational thinking. That created a little rule that I followed in this song: every abstract lyric represent intuition, and the conversational lyrics represent the rational processing we do to explain it. It was a lot of fun to write this song with that in mind.

It took a long while for the lyrics to finally fall into place on this song. The lyric that sort of “unlocked” the rest of the song was “There’s magic in our bones” - it was almost like all of the lyrics were hiding behind the word “magic” and once I found that, the song was ready to be written. That word resonates with me for a million reasons, but as a Dad, watching my two little girls grow from tiny babies into little girls - magic is the only word that makes sense. As I mentioned above, how intuition works is magic, the incredible complex and ornate design that makes up our bodies is magic. That through a matter of bones and muscle and willpower, we move around this earth - that’s magic! Nature is magic, imagination is magic, love is magic! We are surrounded by all of this “magic” every day of our lives, so the final and recurring lyric of the song:

“There’s magic in all of this”

.. is a reminder to myself to recognize this gift of life as the magic that it is.

Now, let’s talk about music (music is magic too)! I originally wrote this song on the ukulele, but when thinking about what instrumentation best represents the “body” the ukulele didn’t feel quite right. So I chose all acoustic/organic instruments.

FUN FACT: Did you know that the violin was designed to mimic the sound of a soprano female voice? Who knows if that’s 100% true or just coincidence, but I believe it is and absolutely love it. With that in mind, I knew that this song should have prominent strings throughout, ideally a string quartet: two violins, one viola and one cello to represent the entire range of human voices. So I called frequent Sleeping At Last guest, Sharon Gerber to assemble the troops! She and her quartet are SO incredible and couldn’t have played more beautifully on this song. All of which was recorded live as one stereo track. SO grateful for their beautiful work!

For some reason, I’ve had the song “Put On Your Sunday Clothes” in my head a LOT lately. It’s from the movie/musical, “Hello, Dolly!” and is brilliantly featured a bunch in Pixar’s Wall-e. I loved the style of strings in the intro of that song- I’m sure there’s a correct classical word for what that type of playing is, but for lack of knowing that word, it’s swirls of tremolo violins stabbing chords. I love it and thought it’s such an appropriate sound for this song, about blunt gut feelings and intuition.

In thinking about the percussion of this song, I originally imagined it being full on drums throughout, but as the song was coming together, I realized it needed an older, more classical approach, so I decided to record loads and loads of orchestral percussion instrumentals: timpinis, cymbals, celestas - even chimes! (Never thought I’d be able to do it, but i did it… there’s so much “magic” talked about in this song that it felt like the right time for some chimes! Don’t worry, they are VERY quiet.)

Easter Egg: in the upcoming song “Heart”, I recorded my wife and our 2 daughter’s heartbeats, and my own, and incorporated these songs into the song. In the upcoming song, “Mind,” I recorded each of us singing a single note. In this song, “Body” I had each of us clap and in editing, created a really deep rumbly sound that leads into the last chorus, right alongside the timpinis! I wanted to make sure that our little family was ingrained into each of these “Intelligence” EP songs.

There’s a lot more to talk about, but I’ll leave it here! Thank you for reading!! I hope you like “Body”!! “Heart” and “Mind” will find their way to you soon.

BODY

a feather is a ton of bricks, or maybe i’m too sensitive… i don’t know. all i can say is this, from now on i’ll try to listen to intuition.

there’s magic in our bones, a north star in our soul that remembers our way home. there’s magic in our bones.

no, i don’t have a script for this. but i know the right words exist somewhere, and i just need more time. i know, i know, i’m asking for the moon, but i must listen to intuition believe me, i only want what’s right.

there’s magic in our bones, a north star in our soul that remembers our way home. God, it’s easy to forget there’s magic in all of this.

it’s so easy to forget, it’s so easy to forget that there’s magic in all of this.

there’s magic in our bones, a north star in our soul that remembers our way home. God, it’s easy to forget there’s magic in all of this.

there’s magic in all of this.

LINER NOTES FOR “BODY”:

Produced, Engineered & Performed by Sleeping At Last Guest String Quartet: Sharon Gerber: Cello, Tracy Ensley: Violin, Anya Gerber: Violin & Joanna Lebo: Viola. Mixed by John Goodmanson Mastered by Jason Ward (Chicago Mastering Services) Artwork by Elicia Edijanto (View Elicia’s work) Recorded at Enneagram Studios in Illinois

Thank you, thank you, thank you for taking the time to read this letter and my thoughts about how these songs come together! Truly an honor to share. Enjoy your week!!

Love, Ryan - Sleeping At Last

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