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fruitydiaz-archived · 3 years

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my darkest nights

A post 5.01 sort of speculation fic

Eddie makes it back home after the shift from hell and is grateful that he escaped Buck's persistent questioning - until a nightmare wakes him up and Buck shows up at his front door anyways. Because of course he does.

2,877 words

AO3 link

Eddie’s never been more grateful to be so exhausted after a shift. He’s never found himself standing in the locker room, staring at the slope of Buck’s slumped shoulders, the weight of his head pulling him down, and feeling grateful for it. He slips out of the locker rooms and to his truck without anyone noticing—everyone worn too close to the bone to focus on anything other than stripping off their uniforms and leaving for their respective homes.

What was supposed to be a 12-hour shift had turned into a 24-hour shift that dragged on, the ransomware attack sending first responders all over the city, wild goose chase after wild goose chase after literal wild goose chase. All the while Buck’s eyes rarely left Eddie. Normally, Eddie felt comforted by Buck’s constant presence, the way his eyes never strayed too far from him, especially when he found himself retreating into his head too much on calls.

But ever since the hospital—ever since running into Dr. Salazar—Buck’s eyes on him weren’t gentle and reassuring, equal parts check in with me and I’m checking in with you. They were worried and persistent and they made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up.

By the time the power had been restored and the team had been cut loose, even Buck was too tired to chase Eddie down.

For the most part, Eddie is grateful, as he pulls into his driveway at 9 am, walking into his house and finding it quiet and empty. He’s thankful that he decided to leave Christopher with Pepa the day before, not knowing that his half shift would turn into a full shift from hell. For a moment he considers stopping in the kitchen to clear out the fridge of all the food that was definitely spoiled during the city-wide blackout, but his body screams for his bed and he listens.

He’s grateful when he pulls the curtains shut, switches off all the lights, and slips under the covers.

He’s grateful. Until the darkness settles around him again, until the sheets wrap themselves too tight around his body, until his eyes fly open and he finds himself searching frantically through the dark for a pair of wide, equally startled blue eyes.

He’s grateful until he realizes that he’s alone.

It’s not a panic attack that wakes him up—because Eddie doesn’t panic—but it takes him 10 minutes to get his heart rate back down. This sleep pattern is becoming painfully familiar to him, like finding an old t-shirt in the back of his closet that he hasn’t worn in 5 or so years, the material tight and constricting around his shoulders and chest. It’s 11:45 in the morning and he knows that trying to fall back asleep is useless, so he takes a quick shower and decides to clean out the fridge anyways.

When there’s a knock on his front door 30 minutes later, Eddie thinks he really shouldn’t be surprised.

But he still is when he pulls open the door and finds Buck standing in front of him, curls fresh and wet against his forehead, the circles under his eyes no less prominent than they were three hours ago. The spike of annoyance is almost immediate because Eddie knows that Buck got just about as much sleep as he did—if not less—and it was Eddie’s fault.

“Buck,” He starts to say, ready to wave him off again, turn him around on his porch and shove him back towards his jeep.

“I—is Christopher here?” Buck cuts him off, eyes darting over his shoulder. Eddie presses his lips together and shakes his head gently.

“He’s with Pepa,” He starts again but this time it’s Buck’s body that cuts him off, shoving his shoulder between Eddie and the doorway, pushing his way into Eddie’s house before he’s even had the opportunity to protest.

“What the hell is going on, Eddie?” Buck’s long legs make easy work of the distance between Eddie’s doorway to his kitchen and Eddie follows right on his heels, helpless and frustrated.

“Nothing’s going on, Buck. I told you to drop it.”

“Well I can’t, Eddie,” Buck says emphatically, spinning around and leaning back against Eddie’s counter. He pauses for a moment, wide eyes searching Eddie’s face before they drop to the floor. His fingers fumble with the hem of his sweatshirt and Eddie’s struck by how small he looks, shoulders hunched, bent inward.

He knows Buck pushes because he cares. Hell, if it were the other way around and Eddie had found out Buck had been to see a cardiologist and didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t have ever let them leave the hospital without finding out why. But Buck can’t know about this—whatever it is. Because Buck won’t drop it even after he finds out and all Eddie wants to do is move forward. He doesn’t get why no one else understands that.

“It wasn’t anything serious, Buck,” He tries again, but the way Buck stares back at him makes him feel like his body’s made of glass.

“Because if it was you would tell me?”

Eddie swallows. He holds Buck’s gaze and nods, a jerky aborted movement, before averting his eyes.

“Good, because four months ago you got shot.” Eddie ignores the way his entire body tenses as Buck continues. “And then you sat in the hospital room and told me that if anything ever happened to you I would be Christopher’s legal guardian.”

He doesn’t say anything and when he looks up again Buck has taken a step closer. He hovers over Eddie slightly, eyes soft and imploring.

“If something happens to you, I need to know. I want to know.”

“It was—it wasn’t a heart attack,” Eddie says quietly.

“But you thought it was.”

“The doctor said…they think it was a panic attack.” Eddie’s stomach twists at the gentle recognition that crosses Buck’s face. He’s not surprised in the slightest. Eddie can picture him easily, back at his loft, sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, searching google for an explanation as to why Eddie would think he was having a heart attack if he wasn’t.

Realistically, Buck probably knew what was up while they were still in the hospital. But if Eddie can just pretend for a little longer—

“You don’t agree with them,” Buck says eventually and Eddie feels heat crawl up the back of his neck.

“I don’t panic,” He says as a reflex, the words familiar, having taken up residency on the tip of his tongue over the last couple of days. But the moment they’re out in the air, the moment he says them to Buck, he knows he’s lost the battle.

“Everybody panics.”

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you got shot—”

“Why does everyone want to talk about that?” Eddie can’t keep the frustration from bleeding out into his words, not even through his gritted teeth. “I lived. I lived and he...he’s dead. I’ve moved on, why can’t everyone else?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and frantic as he looks at Buck, pleading, and for a second Buck gets a glimpse at Eddie as a child. He gets a glimpse at Eddie before he closed himself off, before he was taught to build up walls around his heart, before he learned to shove every emotion down further and further until the only thing left was his ability to move forward. Before he learned how to control.

He reaches his hand out, settling it firmly on Eddie’s shoulder, thumb skipping over the pulse point in his neck.

“Eddie, it happened. Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I—I watched you almost die, Eds.”

“But I didn’t,” Eddie repeats, voice small.

“And I’m really fucking glad you didn’t,” Buck agrees on an exhale. “I get that you want to move on but until you actually talk about what happened, you’re not going to be able to.”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching Eddie’s face. Eddie stares back at him and eventually, Buck sucks in his bottom lip and drops his hand from Eddie’s shoulder. He steps back against the counter, looking down at his hands.

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve seen things that most people don’t even think to worry about. It all adds up, you know?”

“But I’m used to it—it’s not the first time I’ve almost died,” Eddie says and Buck does his best not to flinch, the way he always does when Eddie casually mentions his own mortality, the number of times he’s stared death in the face only to turn his back on it and fight in the opposite direction. He takes a deep breath and pushes back from the counter, turning and slowly making his way towards Eddie’s kitchen table.

“You know, I still talk to Dr. Copeland about what happened that day, sometimes,” Buck pulls out a chair and slowly sinks down into it, his joints cracking as he does. He looks up at Eddie, who feels frozen in place, struck by the realization that it’s been four months and this is the first time Buck has ever actually mentioned the shooting, the first time he’s ever talked about it as something that happened to him too.

“For weeks I couldn’t look in the mirror because I—I would remember standing in the hospital bathroom after they took you in and seeing…your blood everywhere.”

Buck’s words settle in the pit of Eddie’s stomach like a rock. He wants to say something gentle and encouraging, but his throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on itself, and all he can do is stare back at Buck.

“Some nights I still have nightmares where I wake up and I can feel your blood on my hands. Or—or sometimes I wake up and in my dream…we never made it to the hospital. Or I’m frozen and I watch you die in the street. And it takes everything in me not to call you and make sure you’re alright. That you’re still alive.”

Eddie eventually makes his way to the chair opposite Buck, sliding into it with robotic, stilted movements that feel like they’re made by someone other than himself.

“I didn’t know,” He says quietly, and Buck regards him with a face full of guilt and pain.

“I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. But…maybe I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry,” Buck says and Eddie’s face twists.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Buck.”

“The point is, no matter how much time has passed, I still think about that day. And I wasn’t the one who got shot.”

Eddie’s jaw works and lets his eyes fall to the table, trying to find something else to focus on, his heartbeat rattling in his chest. He traces the surface, noting all of the different dings and marks in the wood, the water stains from years of use, from years of living. He doesn’t remember the story behind each mark—some of them weren’t even made by him (or Christopher, or Buck, or anyone else they know). The table was a late-night purchase off of Facebook one of the first nights Eddie spent alone in their house. He remembers feeling a great sense of pride when he made the purchase like he was finally moving forward, achieving something for himself and for Christopher, doing the right thing. And then he remembers the deep sense of dread and loneliness that washed over him immediately after. A table was something he and Chris needed, but Eddie wasn’t used to furniture shopping alone. He couldn’t help but think about how Shannon would’ve hated the table he chose—and she told him as much when she eventually saw it.

He remembers Shannon and the way she had suddenly fallen back into his life, like a rare kind of meteor, a once in a lifetime kind of thing, crashing through the sky, fiery and fierce, ripping through the ozone layer and leaving a crater in its wake. That’s how he felt when Shannon died—torn and empty.

That’s how he felt in the months after the shooting, too. Even as he fought to get up each morning, fought to go to physical therapy, fought through his mandated counseling sessions, fought to regain mobility so he could get some sense of independence back, so that he didn’t feel so useless in his own home.

None of it cured the emptiness. Not even when he reached his hand out some nights and felt the warmth of Ana’s body next to him. Not even when she held him in her arms, ran her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t feel anything.

Or—maybe that’s not true. Maybe he does feel something, something he’s just been ignoring—an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach. An uneasiness that spreads, slow and quiet until suddenly it’s taken over his whole body—panic.

He does his best to ignore it but nothing soothes it—and maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. Trying to soothe the ache, the fear. Reaching for the things he thought would bring him comfort, would help him move on. And acknowledging this pain and panic means that it’s not working. None of it’s working. Not this, ignore it and move on mentality, not this relationship with Ana. Because it’s all connected, isn’t it?

Three days before Eddie got shot in the street, Carla reached across the table and took his hand, and told him to be sure he was following his heart. Three days later he was bleeding out on the street, eyes locked with Buck’s, the two moments twisted and tied together in his history, a knot so tight Eddie didn’t think he could ever untie them.

Looking back up at Buck, Eddie remembers the dream he woke up from earlier. The dream itself isn’t important—it was just one in an endless sea of scenarios that have blended together into one long continuous nightmare; an empty street, a shot in the air, fire, blood, screaming, mud, water, gasping for air—but Eddie remembers what he was searching for when he woke up.

Blue eyes, equally startled.

“I don’t,” Eddie says suddenly, his voice surprising him. He pauses, looks back down at his hands. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Buck asks quietly. His hands slide across the table and hesitate just for a moment before they cover Eddie’s own. The relief is almost instant—not total but enough.

“Ask for help,” Eddie responds. Buck squeezes his hands and he looks back up at him. He swallows, hard, at the sight of Buck’s wide, pale blue eyes staring back at him. Eddie could get lost in them. Eddie wants to get lost in them. He thinks he could be safe there.

“You just did.”

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s crying. It takes him even longer to realize this is the first time he’s ever cried in front of Buck. But after everything they’ve gone through, after this whole conversation, he can’t find it in him to feel ashamed of it. Especially not when Buck’s looking at him with nothing but sincerity and honesty in his eyes. And it hits him then that Buck loves him.

Eddie thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be loved in your entirety. He’s not sure he’s ever felt anything like it before. He doesn’t have time just yet to unpack the way it feels to have Buck look at him like that, to feel like he’s been cracked down the middle and opened up to reveal every ugly vulnerability and be met with nothing but love.

But it feels right. It feels like a step forward. A step in the right direction.

Eventually, he’ll have to go back to therapy. He’ll have to unpack the events from that day, the anger he never let himself feel, the fear that his life was about to be cut short, the regret he felt staring across the 20 feet of asphalt at Buck, covered in his blood.

He’ll have to talk to Christopher because he knows his son is too attentive for his own good, and if his trip to the hospital taught him anything (and it taught him a lot) it was that Christopher had no intention of playing along with this charade Eddie had going, and he saw right through it.

He’ll have to talk to Ana. He’ll have to confront the fact that when he searches for comfort in the middle of the night, in the midst of his panic, he doesn’t find it in the shape of her body, but in the image of Buck.

One day, he’ll have to face those feelings head-on. He’ll have to untangle this web of repression and fear, the threads of which had been spun so long before Eddie was ever aware that they’re practically embedded in his DNA.

But for now, he finds peace in his kitchen, his hands in Buck’s, blue eyes on his.

And he feels safe here. If only for the moment.

#starry eyes and all that #writing #911 fox #buddie #my fic #one day i'll go through and tag all of my fics but that day is not today #this might be bad but it’s the first complete thing i’ve written since uh…july! so

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elvensorceress · 3 years

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I had too many feelings after yesterday’s episode. So, here. Have an angsty snippet of angst.

Everything Is Fine

It’s not the loss of light that bothers him, or even the whole station living on top of each other for days on end. It’s the unending heat. Constantly sticky, constantly sweating, constantly too much. But he wants to set a good example for his newfound probie protégé, so he does what he does best. He wears a smile and keeps track of what he can control and shows the world that he’s fine.

Everything is fine.

Except that nothing is.

The blackout, the power outages, the zoo escapees, the sad food, the lack of his own cellphone — that he can handle. All things considered, they’re nothing really. Especially after last year. It’ll be over eventually. Those aren’t the things that keep gnawing at his insides and flooding him with worry and visions of a hospital ICU.

Every time he closes his eyes. Eddie is pale, intubated, unconscious, fighting for his life.

What if his heart is broken? What if the extreme hypovolemic shock and blood loss and trauma to his body weakened his heart? What if there’s residual damage? What if he had some kind of underlying condition that was aggravated when he nearly died four months ago? What if he suffers an attack or his heart starts failing and they can’t get him to a hospital this time?

There is no chance in any sort of hell that Buck will just drop it and move on.

He knows Eddie’s been carefully avoiding him the past few days. Not enough to be obvious. Not enough to make it seem like it’s anything out of the ordinary. To anyone else that is. He still smiles when they’re near each other and sits beside Buck when they eat like they always do.

He’s just not talking. About anything more than work.

And after something clearly happened when his girlfriend stopped by with salad and Christopher, Buck is done. He’s done. It’s not okay. He’s not ready to be a single parent. He’s not ready to watch Eddie crash and slip away from them. Everything around them is sweltering, suffocating, and he can’t bear to watch Eddie stop breathing.

So, no. He’s not going to give up. Ever.

He’s also not sure what to do with the revelation that Eddie is having panic attacks so intense and visceral that 1) he has to see a cardiologist and 2) are over the thought of his long term relationship becoming serious.

Eddie and Ana are supposed to be great. They’re supposed to be doing well together. Eddie is supposed to be happy. He has to be because if he’s not then all of this is so much worse than Buck ever could have imagined.

He’d been working on his relationship with his parents. He’d upgraded himself, turned a page, started a new phase. He’d been thinking about the future he wanted.

Dr. Copeland told him to make a list — they could be goals, they could be dreams, it didn’t matter how far-fetched or ridiculous they seemed. She told him it was good to figure out what he wants his life to be and what he wants out of it. It would help him take steps toward those things.

He knew it wasn’t possible. He knew it was a future he could never have. But it was a dream that existed, okay?

When he looks at the smile on Christopher’s face, when he thinks of the way Christopher turns to him for help, when he feels the way Christopher hugs him and melts because he’s safe and loved and happy when Buck holds him.

When he thinks of his own safe person, of reassurance, of compatibility, of comfort, of happiness, there’s no one he can picture but Eddie.

He can’t imagine a future without them. He doesn’t want a life without them.

But he can only have so much. He knows that. It’s fine. Everything is. He just filled his nights off with an endless string of first dates that went nowhere instead of playing video games and watching movies and cooking dinner with his favorite people.

He didn’t think about being replaced. He’s not a Diaz and never will be. He wouldn’t be missed. He had plenty of things to do on his own. If a lot of them turned out to be listening to Albert talk about the people he’d met while out clubbing and the ones he’d kissed or wanted to kiss, it was Buck’s fault for asking what he was up to.

His loft was so quiet without roommates. Too quiet. When Albert was gone. When everyone was gone.

But it was supposed to be worth it. Because Eddie was supposed to be happy.

How the fuck can he stay with someone, knowing she is probably in love with him by now, when he knows he’s not in love with her? When he knows the thought of being with her and having a future together is something that literally, physically hurts him?

How can it be enough? How can he live through giving up time with Chris? Time with Eddie? If this is what he gave that up for?

He stepped back. He made room because Eddie wanted someone and should have someone, and Buck knows there’s nothing on the future list for the two of them as anything more than what they already are.

And that’s fine. He can live with that, too. As long as they still have each other in some way, as long as Eddie is alive, as long as Christopher is still somewhat his, Buck can accept it.

But not like this. Not when Eddie is miserable and hurting himself and hurting someone who probably loves him. It’s not fair to any of them.

“I have been Ana,” he says before he can ever rein in depth and layers of unrequited love. Maybe it’s not fair, but neither is holding on while you have one foot out the door or your whole entire self on another continent.

Abby let him love her. She knew Buck loved her, wanted her, wanted to be with her. If she’d asked, he might have even followed her. But she didn’t ask and didn’t want him in return. Didn’t even tell him. In the end, he’d fallen in love with a ghost. A shadow. She confessed she wasn’t herself with him, and he wanted to say he didn’t know and couldn’t feel it. But he could.

He’s not sure anymore if he’s ever known what it’s like to be loved by someone in that way.

It hurts worse than the truth. The uncertainty, the knowing but having no confirmation, the suspicion and doubt. It breeds insecurity and jealousy and he already lacks in the department of self worth.

If Eddie asked, there’s no question, no limit to what he’d give.

But he won’t ask. He wants to stick it out and hurt every single one of them.

So, Buck leaves him to contemplate while he goes outside in the roasting sun. It’s too much. Too much heat and not enough relief. Too much always, always pulsing in his chest. The air smells and tastes even more toxic. Metallic, noxious pollution hovering within everything.

It’s not fine. He doesn’t know how Eddie can be okay with it.

#buddie #911 spoilers #911 5x02 #buck x eddie #idk I just had a lot of feelings #hopefully there will be more so I can continue this and give it a happy ending #jenwyn fic #elvensorceress #everything is fine #oh this is the bad place

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buckleyblueyes · 3 years

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buddie + 28

28. Neck Kisses. Thank you so much! I'm really proud of how this turned out. Buck stress bakes and Eddie worries. (send me a kiss prompt) (send me a dialogue prompt)

It’s been almost three years since the tsunami, and for the most part, Buck has moved on. He can swim again, enjoys going to the beach (especially with Chris and Eddie), and he’s even gone to the renovated Santa Monica Pier a few times. But he’s had enough therapy to know that trauma never really goes away, not permanently anyway. So, he’s not surprised that when the anniversary approaches, the nightmares begin returning, and he tries not to let it wear on him. He talks to Dr. Copeland about it, of course, he’s not ignoring it. He just doesn’t want to make a big deal of it, doesn’t want anyone to worry about him, so he stops sleeping at the station, afraid of waking up screaming where everyone can hear.

Eddie knows, of course, because it’s impossible to hide nightmares from someone you share a bed with--and, God, isn’t that something? They’ve only been together a few months, but Buck is already halfway moved in and maybe they’re moving a little fast, but it’s only because it took them so long to get here. He loves that when he wakes up with his heart hammering in his chest, drenched in sweat, Eddie is there to hold him, to soothe him. Buck also loves that Christopher is just down the hall, that he can poke his head in and listen to his small snuffles and reassure himself that he’s there, he’s alive, he’s safe, before shuffling back to Eddie’s bed.

But as much as he wants to seek out Eddie’s comfort, as much as he relishes the feeling of being held tight and safe in his boyfriend’s arms, there’s a bigger part of him, the part of him that doesn’t let him fall asleep at the station, that is ashamed. He hates the thought of being a burden on Eddie, of keeping him from the sleep he needs, of worrying him over some silly dreams. On the nights those thoughts win, he doesn’t shuffle back to the bedroom after checking on Christopher. He heads to the kitchen instead, and bakes. He’s quiet, moving slowly so as not to cause a clatter, and stirring everything by hand instead of using a beater.

Baking has always been a source of stress relief for Buck. Ever since he was a teenager, and he tried his mother’s banana bread recipe for the first time. He likes using his hands to make something tangible that he can be proud of. The motions of measuring and stirring and whisking and pouring bring him out of his head and into his body, it makes him more aware. And at the end of it he has something delicious he can share with others in return for their affection and compliments. He can watch them smile as they bite into a cookie, soak up praise as they savor it. Even his parents had complimented his baking.

So, for the past couple of weeks, as the anniversary approached and the nightmares got worse and worse, Buck has been waking up in the middle of the night and baking. Blueberry muffins, cookies (snickerdoodles, peanut butter, and oatmeal raisin), banana bread, shortcake and cream for the last strawberries of the season...the list goes on. He brings the treats into the station, and preens as every last one disappears. He lights up when Hen claps him on the back and compliments his muffins or when Chimney double fists peanut butter cookies like a madman or when Eddie moans around a bite of a snickerdoodle and presses a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

(He’s sure Eddie knows it’s a coping mechanism, but he’s glad that Eddie hasn’t called him on it yet. He’s not ready for that conversation.)

Tonight, it’s two days from the anniversary of the tsunami. They have a shift in the morning, so when Buck jolts awake at 2 AM with Christopher’s name on his lips, he can’t bring himself to wake Eddie. He slides out of bed as quietly as he can, tiptoeing down the hall, first to Chris’s room, where he pauses for a moment, taking in the steady rise and fall of his chest, and then to the kitchen. He turns on only as many lights as he needs, leaving the kitchen somewhat dim.

He flips through one of his cookbooks, the one he stole from his mother when he moved out, looking for something to bake, eventually settling on a cake he faintly remembers from his childhood. Lazy Daisy Lemon Cake. It’s a summer cake, sweet and light and tangy from lemon zest, drizzled with a thin glaze. He preheats the oven and gets to work. It’s a simple recipe, but one with a fair amount of prep work involved. He grates and juices the lemons first, making sure he has enough for the recipe, then he sifts the dry ingredients (flour and baking powder) together. He finds his rhythm, and soon enough he’s lost in his movements, and the sensations of his nightmare (the water everywhere, salt burning his eyes, Christopher dragged away from him, under the waves, gone…) fade away.

He’s just put the cake in the oven and is starting on the glaze when hears footsteps behind him. Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, and rests his head on Buck’s shoulder. His voice is rough with sleep when he whispers in Buck’s ear. “What are you doing?”

“Baking,” Buck whispers back.

Eddie frowns. “Another nightmare?”

Buck nods. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“None of that,” Eddie shakes his head, still against Buck’s shoulder. “I would much rather you wake me up then try to deal with this on your own, okay? We’re in this together.”

Buck knows that, he does. But sometimes he doesn’t believe it. “I love you,” is all he can say in response.

Eddie presses a kiss to the base of his neck in response, then follows it with another and another, slowly making his way up Buck’s neck until he reaches his jaw. “I love you too.”

Buck hums softly, and turns around to wrap his arms around Eddie and kiss him on the lips, glaze all but forgotten.

“What are you baking?” Eddie asks, when they pull apart.

“Lemon cake.”

“How long until it comes out of the oven?”

“About half an hour.”

“Okay.” Eddie yawns. “Once it’s done, you’re coming back to bed.”

“I--” Because Buck is used to just staying up all the way until morning when he gets like this. Because it’s 3 AM now, and the cake won’t be done until nearly 4 AM, and they have to be up at 6:30 to get Christopher ready for school, and those two hours hardly seem worth it when he can have coffee and breakfast ready early instead. Besides, he doesn’t want to wake Eddie again.

Eddie, of course, seems to read his mind. He takes Buck’s hands in his and squeezes, grounding him. “You need all the sleep you can get, if you’re not going to sleep on shift. Sleep deprivation is a bad time for anyone, but especially a first responder, you know that.”

Buck sighs. “I know.”

“You don’t need to be worrying about me,” Eddie continues. “Let me worry about you, let me take care of you.”

Buck’s exhausted mind wants to throw a tantrum. He shouldn’t have to do that. He deserves someone less broken. You’re such a--

“You’re not a burden, Evan.” Eddie’s words cut right through every thought that’s racing through his mind. “You never have been, and you never will be. Not to me, and not to the rest of our family.”

Buck doesn’t bother holding back his tears. “Okay. I’ll come back to bed when this is done.”

“You better.” Eddie smiles, and his voice is lighter now, teasing. “It’s cold in there without my personal radiator.”

#buddie #buddie fic #prompt fill #my fan fiction #I hope you like it!!!#lazy daisy cake is something from my childhood #(don't google it the cake that comes up on google has coconut and is decidedly NOT the cake I remember from my childhood)

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thisissirius · 3 years

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buck deserves good things.

i hope you appreciate how hard it is to get into buck’s head instead of eddie’s ;_; they are so very very different

help

crush(ed) [ao3 link] buck. therapy. buck in therapy. buck/therapy. a little of buck/eddie but that is NOT the focus.

It’s not something Buck chooses to hide, but it becomes easier when he finds a private therapist who seems content to take him on. She doesn’t even bat an eye when he tells her he’ll change his times from week to week depending on shifts. She has no ties to the LAFD and tells Buck it’s up to him whether or not he informs his work place.

I should, Buck thinks instantly. Then, breathing out slowly, he tells himself, no.

This is something he wants to keep to himself, for as long as he can.

It’s not until Buck sees Eddie that he almost caves. They promised each other they’d do better at communication after the lawsuit—and Buck can’t think about it without wincing—but this feels different. He doesn’t have to tell Eddie if he doesn’t want to, that’s the first thing Dr. Copeland tells him.

“You don’t even know him,” Buck points out.

“I don’t have to, Evan.” Buck likes the way she says his name. He doesn’t hear it often, not even from Maddie, and it makes him take everything she says seriously—people use his name when it’s important. “The choices here are all yours.”

Buck nods, knows his breathing sounds shaky, but doesn’t care. “Part of me wants to tell him. He’s my best friend. He’s—but I know he’s busy with Chris and he doesn’t need this.”

Dr. Copeland nods. “Do you see yourself as a burden?”

“No,” Buck says immediately. Then, “yes.”

__________________

Loneliness takes him by surprise.

With Abby, he’s sure he’s found something real, something solid. He isn’t joking when he tells Bobby he thinks he might be a sex addict, but he’s also not telling the whole truth. When he’s having sex with someone, when someone’s with him, the loneliness feels further away. Buck wants to be loved. It’s something his parents told him again and again. It’s something he’s known about himself for a long, long time.

If he confused affection with love then—that’s nobody’s fault but his own.

“Is that how you really feel?”

Buck gives her a wry smile. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

Dr. Copeland inclined her head. “A fair point. Though sometimes we say things we think we feel.”

“I had sex with more people than I like to think about,” Buck says, wincing. “Why else would I do it?”

“Some people just like sex.” Dr. Copeland never looks anything but 100% engaged. Buck settles the tablet on the bed, rubs his hands over his knees. “Evan?”

“I don’t know that I do,” he says quickly. When he thinks she might get the wrong idea, he follows it up with, “I mean I do. Just not—enough to have it with that many people.”

Dr. Copeland doesn’t judge him and Buck feels like he can breathe.

__________________

Buck has a standing date with Maddie every Thursday. Even now, with the pandemic raging around them, they make sure to Zoom and watch something on Netflix. He’s got beer, her, a mug of something she assures him is only tea. “Can I ask you something?”

Maddie looks up, cradling the mug in her hands. “You wanna pause?”

Buck shakes his head. The sound of the movie drowns out whatever’s running through his head. “If I wanted to go to therapy, would you judge me?”

“No,” Maddie says without hesitation. “Why?”

The words get stuck in Buck’s throat. He shrugs to cover the struggle.

“Buck, I love you. If you need therapy, I will support you.”

Buck clenches his hand around the beer bottle tightly. “The crush that Chim keeps teasing about—”

“You want me to stop him?” Maddie looks so concerned that the rush of warmth Buck feels in his stomach makes it easier to speak.

“Maybe,” he allows. “It’s not what anyone thinks. Please don’t interrupt,” he asks, when she opens her mouth. “I need to say this. It’s not—she’s a therapist.”

There was silence on the other end of the screen. Maddie’s not angry when he looks, but he’s startled to see tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, hand over her mouth. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck stresses. “I just needed you to know.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Maddie finally manages to get out. She drops her hand, wiping at her eyes. “I’m happy you’re getting what you need, Buck. She is helping?”

Buck thinks of how wrecked he feels after a session, how he’ll surround himself with whoever’s in the apartment because he needs the noise. There’s also the sense of comfort that comes from someone hearing him and listening, giving him advice he actually thinks he can follow.

“Yeah,” he says, after a long pause. “She is.”

__________________

“I want to tell Eddie,” Buck says, looking Dr. Copeland in the eye. “But I’m worried about what he’ll say.”

Dr. Copeland took a moment to reply. “His response isn’t on you, Buck. We can only control what we do, how we react. It’s Eddie’s choice.”

“Doesn’t stop me worrying,” Buck pointed out. He thought of Eddie’s resistance to Frank, the barrier he puts between himself and therapy, while simultaneously embracing it on Chris’ behalf. “When it’s Chris, he’s all for it. Thinks it does Chris good. When it’s adult,” Buck adds. “If it’s me? I don’t know.”

“What’s the worst way he could react?”

“Tell me I’m weak,” Buck says, but even as he says it, he knows that’s not something Eddie will ever say.

Dr. Copeland nodded. “Has he ever given you that impression?”

“No.” Buck bites at his bottom lip. “He’s told me the opposite.”

As if sparing him from talking about it more, Dr. Copeland leans a little further forward. “Your other workmates—Hen and Chim?—how do you think they’d react?”

Buck doesn’t know. “Chim’s been teasing me. Thinks every time I’m up here, I’m talking to a crush.” He flushes, tries not to look at Dr. Copeland. “Every time I try and tell him who I’m actually calling, something stops me. I know they don’t think it’s a bad thing. We’ve all had to have it at some point. The job is hard, you know?”

There’s silence from the other end of the screen and it makes Buck’s screen crawl. The silences always make him desperate to fill them, to throw words at her and hope she makes some sense of what he’s trying to say.

“Hen?”

It’s hard not to smile. “She’s always been supportive. Always tried to be there for me. Even after I sued the department.”

“She didn’t hold it against you.”

“No,” Buck agrees. “Not like Bobby. Like Eddie.”

“Bobby,” Dr. Copeland says, ignoring Eddie, something Buck’s grateful for. “Your Captain?”

Buck nods, readjusting his position on the bed. “I keep thinking I should have told him. This is something the department should know.”

“Only if you want them to,” Dr. Copeland reminds him. “Sometimes we don’t feel safe enough to talk about our mental health, especially if it’s outside of mandated sessions.”

It doesn’t stop the guilt striking Buck at the worst times.

__________________

“Can I speak to you?”

Bobby looks up from his desk, surprised. “Buck. Of course.”

Buck feels awkward. He’s only ever really in the office when he’s done something wrong. Taking the seat opposite Bobby, he looks up from under his eyelashes, still nervous. “What happens if someone has therapy that isn’t mandated?”

Staring at him, Bobby rests his elbows on the desk. He’s not a stupid man and Buck doesn’t doubt he already knows what Buck’s trying to say. “The department likes to know,” Bobby says easily, “but it’s not their right to know. You understand?”

“Yeah,” Buck breathes. His skin feels too tight, trapped in the four walls of the office.

“Look at me,” Bobby says gently. Buck does, realises Bobby looks concerned and not angry. “You alright?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think—I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t tied to the department.”

Sliding his chair out from the desk, Bobby stood, coming round to stand next to Buck. He hesitates. “You don’t have to explain.”

“After the lawsuit,” Buck starts, tries to ignore the flow of emotions that cross Bobby’s face. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d hate me for—”

“Stop,” Bobby says quietly. He rests a hand on Buck’s arm and Buck starts, standing so quickly the chair skids away from him. Bobby takes his hand away. ”Sorry.”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it. He doesn’t know what his emotions are doing and tries to grasp a hold of one of them. “No I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”

“Buck.” Bobby reaches out again, and Buck steps into it, feeling awkward when Bobby doesn’t automatically hug him. Oh god. He moves to step away, but Bobby surprises him again, drags him into a hug, hand to the back of his neck. “It’s okay, kid.”

“It’s not,” Buck mutters, bites back the tears but takes the embrace as long as Bobby will let him have it. “But I’m trying to be.”

__________________

Buck’s leg won’t stop moving. He’s been staring at his phone for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for Dr. Copeland to reply. What if she can’t speak to him? Maybe he’ll have to get through this on his own and he’s not sure he knows how to do that without her guidance.

Mom and dad are coming.

Just like that. No warning. No asking if it’s okay. Just. We’re coming.

Buck’s mad and afraid all at once. Maddie’s the same, but she’s got Chim. Buck’s just got this; his apartment, Albert downstairs watching TV, and Eddie on shift. Buck can’t just call.

When the text comes through, Buck scrambles for his tablet, hands shaking as he answers the call.

“You sounded panicked, Evan,” Dr. Copeland says. “Is everything okay.”

“My parents are coming,” Buck blurts out, wincing.

They haven’t talked about them yet; Buck knows she’s inferred some stuff, suspected others, but Buck’s never outright talked about them. “That scares you?”

“Yes,” Buck says, laughing nervously. “Angry. They never ask. Just told Maddie they’re coming. She’s pregnant so of course they wanna fix their mistakes and—”

He talks and talks.

And talks.

“I don’t want them to come.”

Dr. Copeland nods. “You don’t have to see them if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t leave Maddie alone,” Buck protests. “Maybe,” he starts, pauses. “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“You have support, Evan,” Dr. Copeland says, and it doesn’t feel like she’s patronising him. “You have friends, co-workers. Any of them would understand.”

Buck doesn’t think so. “They’re not bad parents,” he says.

Dr. Copeland pauses for a moment. “There are different ways to be bad parents.”

__________________

Buck’s working out, pent up aggression flowing from fists to punch bag.

“You wanna tell me what’s got you so worked up?”

It’s not that he’s avoiding Eddie. It’s just hard, sometimes, to know he’s holding something of himself back from Eddie. “My parents are coming.”

Eddie stays silent as he punches through some more of his emotions. “My parents tried to take Chris.”

Buck pauses, drops his arms. “What?”

Staring at the ground, frowning, Eddie looks as if he’s far away, probably wherever, or whenever, this happened. “Thought I was dragging him down with me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Buck says immediately, suddenly angry on Eddie’s behalf. Eddie looks up, surprised but pleased, trying to cover it. “It is, Eddie, you know that, right?”

“I didn't,” Eddie admits. “Not for a long time.”

Buck presses, “but you do now?” He doesn’t know why it’s important that Eddie knows it.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a certainty Buck doesn’t always expect from him. “Until I came here.”

“Good.” Buck doesn’t know what Eddie’s trying to get at. “Why tell me that now?”

“I’m a good father because I taught myself to be,” he says, and Buck doesn’t understand. “Sometimes our parents don’t do a good job. Sometimes we love our parents, or we don’t. But we don’t have to agree with everything they do, either.”

Buck works off the gloves. “Okay.”

Stepping into his space, Eddie wraps a hand around the back of Buck’s neck and squeezes. “You can tell them to fuck off.”

Buck laughs, grateful, and drops his head forehead, touching Eddie’s. Eddie closes his eyes and Buck does the same, revels in the touch. “I haven’t seen them in so long. I’m a disappointment.”

“Not to me,” Eddie says, voice full of emotion.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck says.

__________________

“I think I’m going to go to dinner,” Buck says. Dr. Copeland doesn’t say anything, so he nods, as if to make a point. “Maddie needs me.”

__________________

It’s a disaster.

Buck knows, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, that it won’t go any other way.

“So,” Phillip says. Buck doesn’t know when he stopped referring to his parents as mom and dad. Sometimes he feels like he’s a separate entity, apart from all family. Except Maddie. Maddie’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a mother, a sister, a role model. Until she— “how’s working with Evan, Howard?”

“Fine,” Chim says, frowning. “He’s good at his job.”

“He should be,” Phillip says, raising his eyebrows. “We didn’t raise him to slack off.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” Buck says, the words tripping off his tongue. He sits a little straighter, anger blossoming through his chest.

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Margaret says, narrowing her eyes. “You will speak to your father properly.”

Buck’s courage seems to dissipate.

“Dad, Mom,” Maddie says, pleading. “Buck’s doing the best he can. He’s even going to therapy!”

Instantly, she knows she’s said something wrong, and Buck shifts in his heat, panic overriding the anger.

“You’re in therapy?” Phillip’s tone drips with condescension.

“The job can be hard,” Buck admits, unable to look anywhere else but at Phillip. “I just needed to talk to someone.”

Phillip looks disappointed. As if he’s ever looked anything but. “Weakness has always been your problem.”

“Hey,” Chim starts, stepping forward.

“No,” Buck says, putting his glass on the table. “Say what you need to, Phillip. Why is therapy such a weak thing?”

“No Buckley—”

“What would you know about it?” Buck snaps. “Do you know how long it’s taken to admit to anyone that I’m in therapy? Because of what you drilled into me! You’re gonna stand there and tell me there’s something wrong with it?”

“Yes,” Phillip says, tone hard. “I thought we were done with this attitude.”

“Dad,” Maddie starts.

“No,” Buck snarls. “Let him talk, Maddie. Can’t wait to see how I fucked up this time.”

“Evan!”

“It’s Buck,” Buck yells. Now he remembers why nobody calls him Evan. “Nothing I did was ever good enough!”

“And it never will be,” Phillip snaps in response.

Buck draws himself up. “Maybe if you didn’t always leave—”

“Why would we stay?” Kartrina says, her words gentle, and they hit all the harder for it.

Deflating, Buck doesn’t think he can breathe. It feels like a physical slap and he moves, walking fast away from his parents, away from a past he can’t work his way out of.

__________________

“It was a disaster,” Buck says later.

Dr. Copeland nods, sympathetic but professional. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Buck does.

__________________

“I called Eddie,” Maddie says, coming to sit next to him on the back steps.

Buck wants to be mad about it, but now that the anger’s dissipated, he’s just tired. Shaking. Shaking because he’s so tired.

“I messed it up,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Maddie leans against him, wraps an arm around his shoulder and kisses his temple. “I should be apologising to you. I’m sorry I left.”

There’s a burning behind Buck’s eyes and he drops his head, clenching his hands into fists. “I always get left behind, Mads. Always.”

“I know,” Maddie whispers, and Buck loves her all the more that she doesn’t try to correct him.

When Eddie arrives, he looks pissed. He takes one look at Buck’s parents and the anger morphs into something else. A quiet fury. Buck worries that everything’s going to fall apart, but Eddie reins it in—and god, Buck loves him so much—and ignores them. His eyes land on Buck. The fury’s still there, simmering, but it fades behind concern as he crosses the distance between them, crouching down. “Buck.”

It’s just his name, but Buck sobs, emotionally wrung out.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around Buck. Buck falls, let’s himself give up on being anything but a mess. “I’ve got you,” Eddie says again, and Buck believes him.

“Evan,” Phillip says. “This is nothing to cry over.”

“Stop it,” Maddie protests.

Buck ignores them, blinks at the expression on Eddie’s face.

“Alright?” Eddie asks, voice dipped low.

“Yeah,” Buck starts, but is cut off by his mother.

“If this is what therapy has done—”

“You wanna know something,” Eddie snaps, climbing to his feet. Buck’s chest is tight with worry, but Eddie stays close to Buck, between him and his parents. “You wanna know why Buck needs therapy? Where the hell have you been?”

Phillip frowns. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your son,” Eddie snarls, “was almost killed. Twice. A fucking truck crushed his leg, something you couldn’t have avoided knowing about, and yet nothing. Not a word.”

Buck’s oddly fascinated with the way Eddie’s holding himself. Hands clenched, back straight, ever the soldier. But his tone? It goes soft. “Buck’s the best man I know. And no,” Eddie continues, giving Buck’s parents such a look of contempt, “that’s got nothing to do with you.”

There’s that familiar look on Phillip’s face: anger, disgust. “You don’t get to tell me—”

“I’m a father,” Eddie says. “I have an eight year old son. Buck saved his life.”

“Yes,” Margaret says. “We heard.”

That sets Eddie off again and Buck knows he should step in, should take this out of Maddie’s house, but he can’t seem to make himself move. “You have a problem with Buck?”

“He hasn’t turned out—”

“Finish that,” Eddie says, his voice a deadly tone. “Please.”

Phillip keeps quiet.

“Buck’s a credit. Not to you, but to himself. He turned out like this on his own merit. Despite you. Despite being abandoned time and again. He’s strong, kind, compassionate, and I have no idea where he learned to be, because it certainly wasn’t from you!”

Buck’s heart is pounding, blood rushing in his ears. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how.

“He deserves better,” Eddie says, “than anything you can give him now, because you’ve decided a grandchild gives you a second chance.”

Turning his back on Buck’s parents, and just the dismissiveness in that rears the old fear, but Buck tamps it down and Eddie gives Buck a look. “You wanna leave?”

“Buck—” Margaret starts.

Maddie nods her head. He gives her a tight smile.

“Yeah,” Buck says, taking the hand Eddie offers him and standing on wobbly legs.

“It’s alright,” Eddie mumbles. “You’ve got this.”

Buck does. He nods, sharing a long look with Eddie, and then swallows down everything to stand straight. “Sorry, Mads.”

“Don’t be,” Maddie says.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Evan.” Phillip’s expression is tight.

“No,” Buck says, digging deep to find courage. Eddie’s hand squeezes his arm. “I’ll be with Eddie and Chris. I’ll call you. Maybe.”

“You can’t—”

“He can,” Eddie says.

“He can,” Chim echoes.

“We will not—”

“It’s alright,” Maddie says eventually. “They’ll be leaving after you.”

Margaret looks shocked. “Madeline—”

“It’s Maddie,” Maddie says. “Eddie’s right. You can’t make up for us,” she says, gesturing between her and Buck, “with my baby.”

__________________

“How did that feel?”

Buck huffed, not sure how to answer. “Good? But also terrifying. It’s like closing that door completely. It means we’re cut off. Money, name, everything.”

Dr. Copeland hums. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” Buck says. “Some of the money they can’t touch. The name—it’s nice to have it, but I can always change it. I’m still me.”

“I’m proud of you for going,” Dr. Copeland says. “It took strength, Buck.”

“I, uh,” Buck starts, looking around the room, “told Eddie.”

“Oh?” The fact that he can’t detect anything from her tone is a credit. “How did that go?”

Buck sighs. “My mom actually said it, during the fight. I thought he’d hate me for it.”

“Evan—”

The name doesn’t hurt like it had when Phillip used it. “No, it’s okay. I know—I projected that onto him because I was worried. I didn’t want to lose him.”

Dr. Copeland waits. Then, “How do you feel now?”

Scared.

__________________

“I’m sorry,” Buck blurts out.

Eddie frowns as he shuts off the truck. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Buck says.

A pause. Eddie looks confused. “You did.”

“Not about my parents.” Buck’s quiet, looks at the house. Chris is inside with Eddie’s abuela. During the height of the pandemic, they’d been together, both vulnerable. When it was safe to go home, Eddie's taken him back to the house, but abuela and pepa both are both taking enough precautions to stay with him when Eddie’s at work. It’s worked for them so far and Buck hopes it stays that way; Chris deserves to be safe. “About therapy.”

When Eddie’s hand lands on his knee, Buck jumps. Before Eddie can take it away, he grasps it. Eddie gives him a soft smile when he looks up. “You don’t have to be sorry. If it’s something I needed to know, you’d have told me.”

Buck lets out a shaky breath, tips his back against the headrest. “I’m messed up.”

“Maybe,” Eddie allows. “Isn’t everyone, a little?”

“I keep getting left behind,” Buck admits, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “My parents. Maddie. Everyone at work. You,” he adds on last, because if he doesn’t get this out, he doesn’t know when he will. “Not now—after Bobby said I couldn’t come back to work. You left me.”

Eddie opens his mouth. It closes quickly and Eddie ducks his head, a flush rising on his cheeks. “I was a shitty best friend,” Eddie admits.

“We both were,” Buck allows.

“You were crushed by a firetruck,” Eddie protests.

Buck raises his eyebrows. “Your wife died, Eddie. We didn’t talk to each other. I needed you but I didn’t ask.”

Eddie nods, turns his hand around so he can link their fingers together. Buck’s heart skips, doesn’t know what to make of it. Is this something they do now? The lines between them have always blurred, but he doesn't know— “I’ve never had a best friend before.”

“Neither have I.”

“I didn’t know how to ask for help,” Eddie continues, “because I’ve never had someone to ask.”

Buck’s throat is dry. “I make everyone think I’m okay, but inside I’m not. I hide how I’m really feeling.”

“I’m angry all the time,” Eddie admits. “Not so much anymore, but sometimes. It gets so much and I don’t know how to let it go.”

Buck nods, works through what he wants to say before he speaks. “Then maybe tell me when you are. I don’t know what I’ll do, but tell me.”

With a slow breath, Eddie agrees. “And if you need to tell someone how you really feel, text me or call, or I guess, talk to your therapist.”

Buck makes an assenting noise.

“How do you feel now?” Eddie asks, and Buck realises he’s talking about his parents, the events after dinner.

“Terrified,” Buck says quietly. “Just Maddie and I.”

“And Chim,” Eddie points out. “Bobby, Athena, Hen. Carla.”

Buck nods, the tension drawing out. “I guess.”

Eddie looks at him, expression saying a hundred different things. “You don’t have to ask.”

“Maybe not,” Buck concedes, “But sometimes I need to hear it.”

“You always have me,” Eddie says. His voice isn’t loud or hard. The words feel too big for the space. “I’m not leaving you, Buck, especially not now.”

Buck nods, closing his eyes.

__________________

Buck sits back on the couch. “I feel—like I have something to look forward to.”

“I’m pleased.” Dr. Copeland gives him a smile. “How does it feel that everyone knows?”

“Good,” Buck says, thinking it through. “I still hesitate to talk about it, but when I do, they just—accept it. Accept me.”

Silence draws between them, but for once, Buck’s not scrambling for something to say. He feels lighter in places. There’s no magical fix, no cure for the fear and worry that still gnaws at him, sometimes.

“Being honest isn’t always as scary as I thought it was.”

“No,” Dr. Copeland agrees.

Buck looks up, to where Eddie and Chris are in the kitchen, the first time they’ve been able to in so long that Buck’s still surprised at the changes in Chris. “I think I could stand to be more honest.”

“And that,” Dr. Copeland says, “Is something we should talk about next session.”

“Not if I tell him first,” Buck says, with a grin.

Dr. Copeland laughs. “I’ll see you next week, Evan.”

“Bye,” Buck says, waiting until she’s gone to put his tablet down.

“Okay?” Eddie says, leaning against the door jamb.

Buck smiles, pushing himself up off the couch. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good,” Eddie says, shoving Buck towards the kitchen. “I burnt shit, fix it.”

Buck laughs, dragging Eddie along with him, holding on like a lifeline.

Eddie takes a hold of his hand and doesn’t let go.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #otp: i forgive you #fic by me #okay it's here #lol #bye

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shrimpngritcakes · 3 years

Text

Buddie prompt #3: 9-1-1 & Lone Star crossover idea

I’m putting this idea here for someone to claim if they wish. It was originally posted on Ao3 (now with additions), but deleted it due to ToS. If anyone wants this prompt, please comment below so I can delete it after you copy it to prevent similar stories.

His breaking point was a kiss.

One he knew he wasn't supposed to see. With anyone else he would feel like a voyeur, but all he could feel was a dark emptiness opening in his chest.

With Eddie’s truck being in the shop for a tie rod that had broken while at work, sending Eddie into a storm of cursing in Spanish, Ana had picked him up for their latest date.

And dropped him off.

If was a horrible fluke that Buck had stood up to look out the window at just the wrong moment. He should have been in the spare bedroom asleep after a grueling 24 surrounded by all the things he had brought with him when he moved in all those weeks ago.

Buck makes his excuses to leave while Eddie is completely confused and trying to get him to talk. Eddie tries to call Buck but he doesn't pick up.

Buck goes to see Bobby and Athena. It all spills out, including not feeling wanted by his parents. Bobby thinks Eddie is being an idiot but keeps this to himself. He suggests a leave of absence for mental health. Bobby receives permission from his superior to place Buck on open ended leave after giving him a brief explanation of the situation. Ending with him saying to Bobby, “That poor boy. If I ever meet that boy's parents…”

Bobby answers, “Get in line, but there may not be anything left after Athena gets them first.”

TK is surprised to find a sleeping Buck in his Jeep in the parking lot of the 126. An off duty Carlos takes him back to his place where he crashes on the couch. Buck has a nightmare and Carlos talks him down.

Owen calls Bobby saying he has his boy and they'll take care of them. He has a plan and discusses it with Bobby. The whole absence makes the heart grow fonder concept.

“Is it mutual?”

“I’m not 100% sure, but…”

“You can't tell Eddie. Even if he begs for answers for his son, you need to stand strong. It needs to be him asking for himself. If this goes wrong… We'll take Buck in here. He'll have a home with the 126. It will take a while, but we'll help put him back together as best we can until he's back on his feet. He won't be alone.”

Bobby wipes at his face, “Thank you."

“Let's hope this works.”

Eddie is worried and confused why Buck never came home. His phone is going straight to voicemail. Now he isn't there for his shift. Another man comes in and introduced as Buck's temporary replacement. Eddie asks Bobby where Buck is, but he won't give him a straight answer. Eddie is shocked as Bobby's tone is harsh and he glaring at him. Bobby later apologized and explains that Buck requested that only he and Maddie know where he is. Eddie tries to dig, but Bobby just shakes his head with a, “I'm sorry, Eddie. I can't tell you.”

Eddie asks Maddie, but she just slams the door in his face. Chim doesn’t know as she's refusing to tell them where Buck is. Chim delivers her handwritten apology the next day to Eddie. It states Buck needs space from everything, but mostly leaves out the part about Eddie (only one or two things that hint, but it goes over Eddie's head).

Athena almost breaks down and calls Eddie a fool before storming away to her police cruiser. She doesn't know where he is because Bobby refuses to tell her (which she finds annoying yet commendable), but she was there for the why when Buck broke down. She'll apologize after Buck and Eddie return. Hopefully together.

Filler with Buck and the 126 and Carlos. Judd takes him out on a horse like he did Capt. Strand. Fill a pothole on how Grace and him are so accepting of TK's sexuality despite being religious.

A Facetime therapy session where Copeland assures him its okay to get away for a while.

Eddie doesn't quite realize yet that he's slowly losing it, but the others can tell.

Paul and Buck have a conversation.

Christopher asking where Buck is because it's movie night. Eddie doesn't have an answer.

Eddie rages in the station gym trying to understand. He almost gets it, but he thinks Buck is jealous of Eddie, not Ana. Cue Hen groaning under her breath, "You almost got it, Eddie. Come on. Keep thinking."

TK, Carlos, and Paul take Buck out to a club. TK talks absentmindedly to the bartender, even showing him/her a picture of Eddie from Insta. Word spreads about the "new guy," Buck. Others keep the “creeps" away from Buck. Buck loosens up a little while there.

Buck Facetimes Christopher on Carla's phone, only for Eddie to walk in just as Buck is hanging up. He sees Buck's panicked/sad face right before he hangs up. He tries to call back, but doesn't get an answer. Carla huffs and shakes her head. "Figure it out yourself, hun. I can't give you this answer. You need to find it for yourself." Cue Eddie even more confused. This is all just about Buck's parents and jealous over Ana... Isn't it?

Roller derby to cheer on Marjan with the bartender flirting with Buck, who is all kinds of flustered. Carlos, TK, and the others tease him mercilessly.

A massive fire where Buck offers his help. Paul gives Buck as sidehug in gratitude.

Eddie almost punching the mechanic because his truck still isn't done.

Marjan takes Buck out to do something crazy because she's Firefox. (Buck is still starstruck). Maybe skydiving or they race each other at wall climbing? Cue competitive banter.

Owen keeping Bobby updated on Buck.

Buck eventually asks for a transfer. Owen asks if this is what he really wants. Buck just shrugs and asks helplessly what other option he has.

(Optional: Bucks gets up quietly at night for a glass of water and stumbles onto Carlos and TK having sex/making out in the kitchen. Buck either flees in embarrassment or is stunned into watching with Carlos and TK aware that he's there. All parties awkward and/or embarrassed the next morning until TK bursts into giggles and laughter.)

Eddie's relationship with Ana is rapidly deteriorating. Christopher has a full on tantrum. Eddie has to koala hug him on the floor, after Ana brings him back home from a not very good date as Eddie's thoughts were on Buck. Ana tries to help calm him down but Chris screams at her about Buck not being around as much as soon as she started dating his dad. “I hate you! I hate you!” He yells her to get out. Ana still tries to talk. Carla snaps at her to leave. She still tries.

Eddie is spiraling. Flashback of that kiss he really wasn’t ready for, but Ana had asked. It dawns on him that that was the night Buck disappeared. Why would Buck leave because of that? Chris is repeatedly asking her to leave, but she's not listening. She's not listening to his son. He finally snaps and demands that she leaves. She storms out. Relationship dead in the water.

Carla can only watch as Eddie breaks from it all.

The original plan has failed, so it’s time for the final attempt. A blatant hammer strike to Eddie's head to knock some sense into him.

Bobby calls Eddie into his office. He shows Eddie transfer papers from Buck along with a list of Buck's possessions to be boxed and shipped. Eddie is speechless. Thoughts of Christopher and losing Buck. He's losing Buck.

He shows Eddie an email he received and Eddie slowly scrolls through, It's full of captioned pictures. Such as:

-Buck staring off into the distance on a horse.

-Buck curled on a couch looking lost.

-Buck looking drool-worthy in club clothes. The caption: “Holy sh@t! If I wasn't already happily taken…”

-Showing Buck blushing as someone talks in his ear.

-Smiling yet not reaching his eyes while dancing.

-Sitting with his head buried in his hands on the engine’s bumper.

-Helping man a hose at a large blaze captioned with “Yes, we had permission for him to be there.” Followed by a picture of someone (Paul, but Eddie can’t see his face as he’s looking at the ground and hidden by his helmet) sidehugging a sweaty dusty still geared up Buck around the neck with a hand resting on his head.

A video. It's Buck spilling everything curled up in someone's arms (maybe Carlos or Grace). “Why am I always alone! What about me?” Mentions of Abby and Ali. His failed dates. Everyone pairing up. Losing part of his sister to Chim after finally having her back in his life after so many years apart. “And Eddie! Eddie… Why does love hurt so much?” mentioning Chris. Etc.

Eddie is shaking. It finally clicks why Buck left.

One more video. It's Capt. Strand and the 126 facing the camera. He knows where Buck is now - Austin, Texas.

“Buck doesn't know we're putting all this together. He’s asleep. We may or may not have knocked him out with sleeping pills.”

They all lay it out for Eddie. Eddie feels all kinds of stupid and blind. “Now, you have a choice here, Edmundo Diaz…”

“Why… Oh my god. This entire time… ”

“Do you love him, Eddie? As more than a friend? Or am I signing these papers?”

A few seconds after Eddie runs out of the room, a sigh comes from the speaker phone. “I'll get things set up.”

“Thank you, Owen. For everything.”

“You're welcome.”

The whole firehouse going up in a cheer after Eddie floors out of the parking lot in his thankfully finally fixed truck. Hen is shaking Chim or vice versa.

Carla agrees over the phone to keep Christopher after Eddie blurts everything out to her, ending with a “Go get him, Eddie.”

“Did everyone see this but me?” Carla is laughing as she hangs up.

Buck sees Owen call TK over and whispering in his ear. Tk has an interesting reaction before running out of the room with his phone already to his ear.

Flashbacks as Eddie is scrolling through his pictures on his phone while on an airplane. How he missed it. How he didn't understand himself. His fall had been so slow he hadn't even realized it until it was almost, or maybe is, too late. His seatmate makes a comment on his happy “family," and it’s a kick to Eddie's already flayed emotions.

Judd is there to pick him up at the airport, which surprised him.

He's dropped off at a club. Judd makes a snarky comment after handing Eddie a hotel room key card through the window. Eddie rolls his eyes as Judd drives off laughing. The bouncer, having seen the Diaz blazoned on the back of his LAFD shirt, waves Eddie inside, skipping the line. The whispering starts as soon as he enters. Word had spread and they had been hoping for Buck. “Is that…”

“I think so.”

He's shocked as the crowd starts to part for him. The music lowers in volume. People are staring and he's embarrassed, etc., but he sees Buck, who TK has made sure looks phenomenal. Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and walks forward.

Buck is dancing between Carlos and TK. He feels Carlos start smacking TK on the back before they pull away from him. They’re both grinning so wide he suspects their faces are hurting. TK is not so quietly squealing in excitement.

A hand covers his eyes from behind. He immediately recognizes the body wash smell. “Eddie…”

Mini conversation/argument, neither realizing the club has gone dead silent, with Eddie yelling “Because I love you, you idiot!”

The entire club loses it with TK whooping, jumping with a fist punch, and laughing.

End there with a kiss, at the hotel room which may or may not get steamy, or Buck telling Christopher he's home with Chris tackling him to the ground.

#buddie #free buddie prompt

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passionate-reply · 3 years

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Stan Ridgway is best remembered as the guy from Wall of Voodoo, and Wall of Voodoo are best remembered as the guys from “Mexican Radio.” But there’s a whole lot more to Ridgway’s solo career, which began with 1986′s The Big Heat--Americana, epic narratives, and a whole lot of digital synth. (Transcript below the break!)

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, we’ll be looking at an often overlooked solo debut: Stan Ridgway’s The Big Heat, first released in 1986.

Stan Ridgway is best remembered as the original frontman of Wall of Voodoo, and Wall of Voodoo, in turn, are best remembered for the single “Mexican Radio,” a landmark bit of New Wave eclecticism that became an unlikely hit thanks in large part to heavy rotation on MTV. That said, like a lot of ostensible “one-hit wonders,” the span of Ridgway’s artistic career is quite a bit more varied and more interesting than this solitary recording might suggest. While I don’t believe that “Mexican Radio” is simply a novelty song that can easily be dismissed, I will set it aside for the time being, because any attempt to cover the rest of Stan Ridgway’s work is probably better off without worrying about it. Instead, let’s take a look at his first bona fide solo release: the 1983 single, “Don’t Box Me In.”

Music: “Don’t Box Me In”

“Don’t Box Me In” was a collaboration between Ridgway and percussionist Stewart Copeland, then known chiefly for his work with the group The Police. While Copeland is now fairly well known for his work composing scores for cinema and video games, this was one of his first forays into that field: the soundtrack to Francis Ford Coppola’s film adaptation of Rumble Fish. Based on a novel by S. E. Hinton, most famous for The Outsiders, Rumble Fish was actually a tremendous flop for Coppola, perceived to be a bit too avant-garde for its own good, and Copeland’s percussion-led score for the film, experimental in its own right, certainly didn’t help that perception. Despite all of this, “Don’t Box Me In” managed to do fairly well for itself as a single, achieving substantial alternative radio play purely on its own merits. And merits it has, weaving together the experience of a fish trapped in a tiny bowl with a more universalized sense of human ennui, being overlooked and underestimated by everyone around you. Not to be underestimated himself, Ridgway has not only written these evocative lyrics, but delivers them in a manner that shows a complexity beyond his semi-affected Western twang, conveying fragility and uncertainty alongside indignation and determinedness. This is also the version of Stan Ridgway whom we meet when we listen to The Big Heat.

Music: “Camouflage”

Despite being the very last single released from The Big Heat, the eerie war yarn “Camouflage” would go on to be the most successful track from the album, and Ridgway’s best-known hit as a solo artist. Perhaps surprisingly, the single was largely snubbed in the charts of Ridgway’s native USA, becoming a much bigger hit throughout Europe. While playing the harmonica and sporting a bolo tie, Ridgway seems to almost play the character of the quintessential American, and perhaps it’s that quality that’s caused this apparent rift. Is it necessary to analyze his art through the lens of exoticism in order to find it appealing?

It’s a hard question for me to answer, personally--I might be from the US myself, but at the same time, the vast majority of the music I listen to is European, as a natural consequence of being chiefly a devotee of electronic music. There is still a sort of novelty factor I find in Ridgway’s work. I remain in awe of the fact that a musical genius exists who uses a hard R, and says “huh?” instead of “pardon me?” But, of course, I am amazed by this moreso because it makes me feel “represented,” for once, in a musical tradition which is important to me. If people from Britain’s crumbling industrial centers like Sheffield and Manchester have made great electronic music, then surely synthesisers can also tell the stories of the American Rust Belt, where I come from? For that, we’ll have to step away from the sort of typified narrative of “Camouflage,” and take a listen to the album’s title track.

Music: “The Big Heat”

“Camouflage” told us a tale as old as time, in which a benevolent ghost offers one last act of aid to a vulnerable human being. The album’s title track, on the other hand, alludes to a particularly 20th Century form of storytelling: the detective drama and film noir, as hinted at by its allusion to the classic Fritz Lang film of the same title. Ridgway assumes the perspective of the hardboiled detective, hot on the trail of some mysterious quarry, and it is the innocent passers-by he seeks information from who respond with the song’s banal refrain: “Everybody wants another piece of pie today.” For as much as people have mocked Ridgway’s singing style over the years, you’ve got to appreciate his lilting delivery of this line here in the first verse, where it comes from the mouth of a female character.

It’s easy, of course, to see such apparent non sequitur lyrics in Ridgway’s oeuvre as merely ridiculous, as many quickly do with the likes of “Mexican Radio,” but the more you listen to him, the more his style begins to make sense. The instinct to find humour in things is deeply connected to the feeling of being surprised, and encountering the unexpected. Ridgway happens to be all about delivering the unexpected, and it’s precisely the surface-level absurdities and surprises his lyricism offers that make us think more deeply about the stories he tells. The title track of The Big Heat isn’t about pie, but rather the fact that everybody its characters encounter appears to be grasping for more out of life, and hungry for something else. It’s what drives criminals to transgress against the law, and it’s also, perhaps, what drives the detective to devote himself to the pursuit of the abstract principle of “justice.” To both the villain and the hero of this story, the civilians they brush past are little more than means to an end, despite their display of greater wisdom and insight into these issues than anyone else. Ridgway excels at conveying this sort of saintly everymannishness, and does so with similar gusto on the track “Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket)”.

Music: “Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket)”

“Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket)” was actually not released as a single, which is perhaps surprising given its hooky quality and sprightly synth backdrop. While “Camouflage” is assembled chiefly from traditional instruments, with only a subtle intrusion of Yamaha DX-7 to remind you that it came out in 1986, many of the other tracks, like this one and the title track, are willing to double down on electronic influences, and ride the wave of “peak synth-pop” that was easily cresting by the mid-1980s. That aside, the central theme of “Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket)” is the quotidian avariciousness one encounters among ordinary folk, and the psychological effects of living in a “mean world.” While the text mostly revolves around the idea of living in fear, and the paranoia of knowing that “everything changes hands when it hits the ground,” it reaches a climax by showing us an actual situation where this occurs: the pathetic figure of a filthy old man who finds a small bill in the road, and, in a fit of folk superstitiousness, is said to “thank the street.” The song’s tension lives between the bustle of the jealous ones, and the reality of life for those desperate enough to pick up money from the street. Like many of Ridgway’s greatest works, this track simultaneously portrays the mentality of the common man in a direct and serious manner, but also opens up room for it to be criticized. This everyman bystander persona is assumed more directly in the track “Drive, She Said.”

Music: “Drive, She Said”

While the album’s more electronic elements are its main draw, in my eyes, there are still a number of tracks that remain dominated by traditional instruments, “Drive, She Said” being a prime example of them. While narratives are always at the center of Ridgway’s work, “Drive, She Said” moves us away from omniscient narration like that of “Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket)” and back into the mind of a specific and individualized narrator--in this case, a cab driver who somewhat reluctantly transports a bank robber, with whom he might also be falling in love. While it doesn’t have the supernatural implications of “Camouflage,” the two stories do seem to have much in common: an ordinary person meets someone who quickly reveals their extraordinary nature, and despite the brevity of their encounter, the protagonist is deeply affected, and perhaps changed, by the events. Much as “Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket)” sees fit to shatter its apparent main premise, with an interlude that shifts the tempo of the music as well as introduces the contrasting figure of the old beggar, “Drive, She Said” introduces an interlude of its own: the driver’s reverie, in which he runs away with his enigmatic passenger. As in many of Ridgway’s tales, we must consider both the beauty of a wonderful dream, and its sheer impossibility.

On the cover of The Big Heat, we see a portrait of Stan Ridgway looking glum, which is not itself terribly unusual for an album cover, though the fact that he’s behind a metal fence certainly is. The main focus of the image seems to be Ridgway’s environment, a bleak industrial setting full of towering machinery, and no other traces of human beings. The absence of other figures in this scene draws attention to the scale of the machines, as well as the fact that in many parts of the US, including my own, it’s very common to see equipment like this that’s fallen into disuse and disrepair. Much as ruined aqueducts and palaces mark the places in Europe where the Roman Empire had once held fast, these sorts of derelict manufacturing facilities are a common sight in America, and serve as reminders of the squandered “American Century.” While many album covers have shown me places I like to imagine myself visiting, I don’t have to imagine what being here might be like, having grown up in a place whose pride left soon after the steel industry did. It strikes me as exactly the kind of setting that Ridgway’s narratives ought to take place in: dirty, simple, well-intentioned, doomed, and all-American.

Ridgway’s follow-up to The Big Heat would be 1989’s *Mosquitos,* an album that largely abandons the many synthesiser-driven compositions found in his earlier work. It’s hard to fault him for this decision, given how much the mainstream appeared to be souring on synth-pop and electronic rock by the end of the decade, but it does mean that this album offers little I’d want to listen to recreationally. That is, with the exception of its third and final single, “Goin’ Southbound,” a practically epic drama of small-town drug smugglers trying to survive, and one that fires on all cylinders when it comes to fiddles dueling with digital synths. This track feels like it would fit right in on The Big Heat, so if you’ve enjoyed this album, don’t miss it.

Music: “Goin’ Southbound”

My favourite track on The Big Heat is “Salesman,” which, to my surprise, received a small advance promo release without ever becoming a true single. The titular character, an unctuous but insecure traveling salesman, is as rich a narrating persona as any of the many in Ridgway’s catalogue, and I love the way the refrain just feels like a song you might make up while idly doing something else, silly and yet primal at the same time. It captures the feeling of living “on the edge of the ball,” enjoying the freedom of spontaneity, but also, perhaps, suffering for its enforced sloppiness. That’s everything for today, thanks for listening!

Music: “Salesman”

#music #album review #album reviews #great albums #stan ridgway #wall of voodoo

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cookiedoughmeagain · 3 years

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Haven DVD Commentary, episode 5.19 - Perditus

Commentary with Lucas Bryant and Adam Higgs (co-writer for the episode) - and also occasionally featuring Josh even though he is theoretically not part of the commentary.

AH: I haven’t seen this since writing it a few months ago so this is going to be interesting LB: I haven’t seen this either AH: So this was a bit of a battle to find out what we were going to do with Gloria as the ME in terms of how is she able to keep bodies cold in this new post-apocalyptic Haven? And we came up with the idea of an ice cream truck and we just fell in love with it. And we brought back this Benji’s brand that had been in previous episodes. LB: Right. I wish that some of that would have been explained to a guy like me. Because I remember rolling up that day. And I was like; What the … what? What is happening here? And then I got it. Now I get it. But for a moment there I was a little distressed.

LB: It was pretty sad, but then hilarious at the same time, because Charlotte is lying there on the counter of the ice cream truck. AH: Yeah we’ve started this commentary pretty comedic, but this is fairly heavy subject matter here. Poor Dwight. And I remember writing this, one of the things we always had to keep in mind was just the idea of having to deal with grief. And to make sure that what’s happened in terms of Charlotte dying is reflected in the emotions of the characters in the script, and keeping an eye on that in the dialogue throughout, in terms of how they’re dealing with things. LB: Yeah. It’s sad everytimes, because it’s inevitable, on Haven, that almost everyone dies at some point. So you meet these new people, in this case Laura Mennell joined the cast this year and got on very well with everyone. But we knew that inevitably at some point she was probably going to meet some kind of gruesome end. AH: It is sad, because we love the characters, we love the actors. What’s interesting those is that we loved Laura so much - she was originally scheduled for her last episode to be the previous one, 18 - we wanted to give her one more farewell and have another episode to have that time to say goodbye to her. And so that’s where this episode came in and we were able to re-negotiate and get Laura for one more episode. But it’s like you say, it is sad to always have to say goodbye to these characters and actors that we grow to love. LB: Well we should tell her that - does she know that she eeked another episode out of her existence? AH: I don’t know. I remember it was sad, we were doing the tone calls with the actors - as the writers it’s a tool we use to communicate what we were trying to do. Which is where we should have talked to Lucas about that ice cream truck. And it was a sad tone call at the end with Laura, just like … OK bye! LB: Right, I know! And you don’t know what to say because you read the script - we get the scripts a couple days before we start shooting - so you know it’s coming but you read it and then it’s like; Oh there it is. And then the next day you see the actor and what do you say? Like, Hi so that sucks that you’re dead, now?

[Duke on screen] LB: Oh Balfour.

[Nathan looking through Charlotte’s journals] AH: Someone’s really nice handwriting there. LB: Yeah. Whose really nice handwriting? That really nice hand writing is not what I was reading then. AH: I love when you and Vince are in a scene together. You have great chemistry. It was always fun to write these scenes especially where they’re a little quieter. One of the things we tried to do in this second half of the season was pair up some of the actors and characters who hadn’t been together as much in the first half of the season, and we’d missed that report they have.

[Miss Fortuna’s Occult Shop] AH: Oh this is Gabrielle Miller, Canadian treasure. LB: Yes. And she was totally awesome, and game. She came in, and we had this one day where we were in this occult shop, and so we had all these scenes and she had so much to spit out. I think she’d just come the night before, she’d slept like 3 minutes and then been sent to wardrobe and brought to set, and she was totally pro and game and cool. AH: That’s awesome. We drop a lot of actors in and they have to just hit the ground running. There’s not a lot of time to get caught up on what’s going on, especially when you get dropped in the middle of a serialised show like this. So big credit to those actors and to the directors, as well as the existing cast who make them feel at home. LB: But totally to her too. I remember for some of those scenes thinking; this is some of the weirdest, hardest stuff, I have ever had to do. Because the danger and the intensity that’s happening with the Tarot cards that we’re dealing with. AH: And the mythology that she’s putting in there too, and this is the first time she’s heard of any of this, she hasn’t been living with it for five seasons like the viewers have.

[Dave on screen] LB: I love John and Richard AH: They’re awesome. LB: They are just awesome. Any time that any of us got to work with them, I know we all loved it.

[Ona on screen with the failed/faked seance] LB: And this was hard, as a guest actor, this was really hard to do. I remember thinking; What the …? And it’s so stationary, so still - and you know the music is going to build the tension, but all of that music is not happening at the time.

Josh: Hey Adam, do you want to talk about where you came up with the episode name, Perditus? AH: Yes, oh my goodness. We could not - Gab and I - for the life of us could not figure out a name for this episode. And we went around in circles on it. And finally, we both have great love for the West Wing and Aaron Sorkin and his titles are often in Latin. So we wondered could we do the same thing and just put something cool in Latin. And I think we had Josh look it up … what does Perditus mean Josh. Josh; I think it’s Time. No, Lost. AH: Yes, because the theme of the episode is lost; trying to regain what you’ve lost. LB: I like that.

[Dave on screen] LB: Some of you may know John Dunsworth’s work from Trailer Park Boys, where he spent a lot of time being very freaking drunk. AH: It’s a kids show, right? LB: It’s a kids show *laughs*, So I mean the guy can do it unbelievably well, but I thought it was very cool to see Dave drunk. Because Dave drunk was not like Lahey drunk. AH: It was not.

[Duke’s vision] LB: Look at that, that looks very cool. AH: It does, and this was fun. The post-apocalyptic portion of this episode is something that we had wanted to do the whole season on Haven. We had been sliding this epsiode from the very first day I started working on this show, we were talking about a whole episode to be set in the future, and we put it all over the place, we were thinking mid-season finale, finale, all sorts of options. We wanted to see these post-apocalyptic scenes to give stakes to what’s coming, this Croatoan mystery. But we couldn’t find the perfect spot for a full episode and then we figured well what if it’s just a portion of an episode? And that’s how it was finally able to see some life here in 5.19. And I think, the Trouble we were going to use to send everyone to the future, we ended up using to send everyone to the past. And I’m sure that will part of that commentary there in that episode. Josh: That’s the next one. AH: Yeah so stay tuned! I don’t know why I keep trying to sell these, since anyone listening has already bought the DVD. LB: Yeah, if you haven’t - go out and purchase the DVD that’s currently in your DVD player. AH: You should have two, just in case. Accidents happen. LB: That’s right.

[Audrey and Nathan on screen] LB: My aether ball. AH: Did you get to keep the aether ball? LB No. AH: Did you take anything from the set? Any souvenirs? LB: I took all sorts of things, inside. Like, emotions. AH: And you left some things behind as well, in other people’s hearts. LB: Um .. I have the slate from the episode that I directed. AH: Fantastic episode by the way. LB: Thank you. Everyone signed it and they gave it to me at the end after the last shot, and it was very special. So that is my cherished memento. AH: Did you find that you changed any way in which - I should not be talking over Adam Copeland’s incredible scene here [picking up Charlotte’s body] LB: They will watch it without the commentary AH: This is some powerful stuff here. But yeah, after directing did you find that your approach to acting had changed at all? [Dwight and Audrey taking each other’s hands just before Charlotte comes back to life] LB: That’s beautiful. I really like that shot. AH: Great shot. LB: Um, yes, definitely I have changed. I think I used to be much more of an ass hole. AH: I wouldn’t agree with that. LB: But now I am just much more open to … anything, I guess. I realised how helpful it is for people to … be helpful, when you’re trying to get stuff done. So just getting on board with what ever was going on, just quicker and more easily, I think was something that changed in me. But then also I realised too, I was talking in the last commentary about how different it was being a director and seeing how actors work and having such a different feeling about being an actor. But then when I went back to just being an actor, again it was hard to do anything besides just be in that actor headspace.

[Charlotte remembering] LB: This is very cool AH: I like these flashbacks. I don’t know who the editor was on this episode but - fantastic job.

Josh; Do you remember, there was such an ordeal, we weren’t allowed to use the word ‘zombie’ anywhere in the script? AH: Ah yes. Josh; We changed it to ghouls. LB: Why weren’t we allowed to use zombie? Josh: There’s so much zombie stuff out there; Walking Dead, Z-Nation, LB: But if there were dead things that were walking around, wouldn’t we call them zombies? Josh: But they don’t on the Walking Dead either, interestingly. They never use the term zombie

[Vickie drawing on the paving stones in Duke’s vision] AH: Oh this is a cool scene. This is one of the first things that came to mind when Gab and I were putting these future flash-forwards together. LB: This is great. AH: Did they have a wind machine? Josh: I think it honestly was just that windy. I could be making that up - I wasn’t there. LB: It could very well have been. AH: It all looks great. I think Shawn Pillar might have shot some of these scenes. Great job Shawn. Josh; I believe that’s true. And by this stage, I think it was starting to get very cold up in Canada, because this is longer than the show was usually in production. People start to wear overcoats towards the end of the season, which never happened before. LB: Right, because they were back in Chester [for those flash-foward/vision scenes]. This is when we’d moved now to shoot in Halifax [Dwight punches a hole in the police station wall] AH: Wow, love that LB: Yep. That’s Adam’s old life as a computer programmer coming in handy, smashing shit up - get that code right. But yes so we were in Halifax at this point and they were sending out another unit to Chester to go back and shoot that apocalyptic stuff. AH: This was also a fun part of the episode, putting Emily and Adam together, it’s good to see them play off each other. And you and Emily have great chemistry together, even though you’re not actually talking to each other for this phone call here - little know fact they are not actually on the phone with each other and we are not actually shooting these two scenes at the exact same time. LB: Right. I have Joanne *attempts impersonation and gives up* reading out lines.

[Dave getting his stuff together] AH: So here we have the ather detecting device, and this is an intersting story as well. We had written this episode or were breaking it, and I was down at comic con visiting the Haven booth were fellow writer Nick Parker was doing a signing and I looked in the booth and there was a box of props from the set that was going to go on tour with the booth through a bunch of other cities. And we kind of needed it, in a week’s time, back in Halifax to shoot this episode. LB: *laughing* What? AH: So I saw it and I was like - Isn’t that …? I just wrote that, I need that. We need to get that back. There was a slight level of panic for about ten seconds.

[Audrey finds Herb eating Lainey in the occult shot] LB: There were a lot of big laughs here. It was yucky and gross; he was eating her. But we were like; this is, mental. And they had all sorts of tests of Herb coming up with different sized and shaped things in his mouth. There were certain skin flaps that looked like giant tongues. AH: I just want to give props to Emily for that whole chair routine [backing Herb into the cupboard]. That was a topic of conversation for many weeks of how exactly to do that. That was the original idea but we also went through so many others just because there was some concern as to whether that would look good. I think it looked fantastic and Emily did a great job. LB: She did. Emily kicks ass. AH: She’s a bad ass LB: She’s awesome. I’ve been talking all these great things about all these other people, but Emily is perpetually fantastic. She is the whole glue that makes this whole thing work. AH: Yes, we are very lucky with the cast on this show. It’s a pleasure to write for.

[Audrey talking to Ona] LB: I think this is one of my favourite lines, where Audrey is like; Herb was eating Lainey. AH: Yeah that was one of my favourites. And here’s the [Crocker] journal again, very happy to keep using this prop. We have some great props. And like the aether detecting device, we love the look of them .And when we can go back and use them again we love it.

[Dwight finds Charlotte out at ‘their spot’] AH: Ah and here’s Adam Copeland. This was a heart wrenching scene to write, I’m very curious to see how it came out. LB: I am too. AH: I like the contrast of this with the darkness of the scenes with the ghouls. It is so sad that this is Charlotte’s last episode. But we were really happy because we wanted to give Dwight some more depth this season, and have Adam stretch his acting abilities too, and that’s why we were really happy to bring in a love interest for him. And to see him get to play that kind of thing, and I think this was a great success, this relationship that’s built through these last few episodes. LB: Yep, I agree completely. And I said it in the last commentary but, Laura is fantastic and brought some excellent new colour to the show as Dr Cross. AH: Who we named like nine times. LB: She was Olivia for a while. Carly before that. But I was so … maybe everyone’s going to know I have a big crush on the computer programmer but … Adam was really - you threw him all sorts of new stuff this year and he did an exceptional job.

[Vince to Dave: Together until the end of all things] AH: I love that line, I had to put that in there. LB: It’s beautiful

AH: Oh here we are again in freaky future Haven, I’m excited to see what this looks like LB: This is very cool AH: Hey the cricket bat! Anyone see that cricket bat? A little nod there to one of my favourite … *gets distracted by watching* [Vince with his white eyes] LB: I think Balfour is really good when he doesn’t know what the hell is going on AH: He’s playing it very well LB: One of my favourite episodes of all time was the time travel back to 1955 AH: He does a great job with that stuff, where he’s in a situation where he’s just like; What the hell is going on? And this was fun to send him, because we were planning this future apocalyptic episode for a while and working out who would go - at one point it was going to be Nathan. And one point Nathan was going to be this kind of despot in the future, actually, we had played with that for a while. [Duke picks up the cricket bat] Cricket bat! Shaun of the Dead! Yey!

[Dwight and Nathan on screen, getting in each other’s faces as they argue] LB: This fucking guy … AH: You can see that they just want to go computer programme right now LB: Let’s get through this, and lets go sit at our two-man work station and get through some code AH: That’s the spin off. If you’re wondering what happens after

[Ghouls trying to get into the station] AH: Oh that looks great! Look at all those hands. So were you method in this scene? Just going all out smashing arms? LB: No, I wasn’t, sadly. The cricket bat that I had there was not - well there was a real one and a not-real one. A foam one. So you can swing that hard, but the problem is that you can’t hit things too hard because it will just bend and look ridiculous. But the background performers that were playing the ghouls did really go for it, and were having to reach through these scratchy doors in this not-comfortable space for … hours at a time. They really went for it.

[Duke coming out of his vision] AH: What a pleasure to have Seth here. Kris Lemche is amazing LB: Yep AH: And this is the fun of doing a genre show like Haven, where you just get to really dial in on the characters and using metaphor and stuff and you can really visualise it using flashbacks and all these things. It’s a joy where you can carry these character arcs to fruition but you get to do it in a more exciting way than a scene where just two people are talking.

LB: She - Ona (Meredith) - was fantastic. Hilarious, and ridiculous. One of those examples of someone who has to come in and go for it out of nowhere. We had a really good time. She’s a great actress and she was stupid funny. AH: She’s a comedic actress I think. LB: Yeah.

[Charlotte; I hate the fact that I'll never see her again after this, but that hate, it doesn't outweigh the love I gained in getting to know her.] AH: And I think that’s how we feel about Laura Mennell Josh; Who wanted to be here by the way. She wanted to come and do commentary, but she’s stuck in Vancouver. As is Adam Copeland.

[Zombies start falling over dead] AH: Ooof. There’s no matts there, either. That’s impressive stuff. LB: It was. They really went for it. AH: Props to the extras, and casting. And the directors too LB: Props to everybody. But I remember, that was a long day and that was one of the things they shot at the end. And they did a couple takes where they just crumpled out of frame, but they needed to get a shot of the zombies actually hitting the ground. And I remember cringing as I watched, and not being sure if they would get up again, But they did. AH: They’re all alive. No zombies were hurt in the making of this film.

[Audrey talking to Nathan after she’s said goodbye to Charlotte] AH: And this was something we worked on with you and Emily in crafting these scenes between Audrey and Nathan, because they’re in a point in the relationship where you can understand one another but at the same time give her the space she needs. And I thought you pulled this off really well LB: Oh goood, thank you. I remember this was where I had to say void, shroud, thinny in the same sentence. Josh: And controller crystal LB: Right. AH: That’s a bingo LB: 17 points for me

[Dwight and Charlotte saying goodbye] LB: Aw that’s nice. Really nice AH: That’s a nice scene. It’s not easy having to do so many things in an episode. One moment it’s a love scene, then you’re killing somebody, you’re in pain. We really throw you guys through the wringer LB: Well but it’s not easy for you either, to tell these stories, all of those stories in one. AH: And there she goes. Poor Dwight Josh: He’s been through so much AH: Yeah we just … can Dwight catch a break? And look at that - turning on a dime there from rage to anger. LB: So good, Adam Copeland!

[Duke stealing a car to part ways with Seth] AH: And here’s another goodbye. A lot of relationships breaking here. I tried to get Eric a muscle car in an earlier episode and it got changed. But we had to give him one at some point LB: Damn these guys are good. Really nice. AH: I’m just watching, they’re so good. Josh: And what I also love about this is that there’s no need to explain that Duke hot wired the car. You just know that’s something Duke can do. AH: That was fantastic. Well done guys. Lemche great to have.

[Vince and Dave walking through a rubbish strewn Haven and into the Herald] AH: Look what’s happened to Haven here Josh: It’s so nice to see all the trash here, because there are so many shows and movies where somewhere is abandoned for months and yet the town looks perfect and pristine. AH: I think this is one of the last days we were in Chester LB: Ah they’re so good. If I can be half … half of them

AH: So there we go, episode 19. A pleasure to have worked on LB: A pleasure to have worked on too. Very well done, congratulations AH: Well done to you, and to Josh.

#haven syfy #haven dvd commentaries #haven 5 #5.19 - perditus

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 5 years

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Deacon St. John || Phantom in the Night [1/5]

A/n: This'll be a short series. There are spoilers, so I'll put a spoiler warning before you read.

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

I hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

***** Prompt: A mysterious woman with a mask has been traveling around the regions taking out whatever evil she comes across. When Deacon meets the woman behind the mask, his entire world changes. *****

~3rd Person POV~

The moment Deacon set foot in Copeland's Camp, he saw the entire encampment gathered in between the kitchen and the bounty stall. Mark stood in the middle as he addressed his fellow men and women. "I understand your concern, but we've no need to worry. Phantom means us no harm."

"What if she does target our camp?" A woman asked nervously.

"I assure you she will not. Now get back to work!" Mark shouted. Everyone headed back to their posts, a suffocating air lingering throughout the camp.

Deacon was perplexed as to why the entire camp was acting strange. He wake sober to many, greeting the mechanic. "Hey, Manny. What's going on here?"

"You haven't heard?" Manny inquired.

"Why the hell do you think I'm asking?" the drifter scoffed.

"Recently, there's been this girl spotted out in the shit. She wears this creepy mask and black clothing. No one knows who she is under the mask. People around the camp are afraid she'll attack us next," Manny explained.

"I didn't come here to listen to the camp's problems. You got anything new for me?" Deacon asked.

"Sorry, Deek. Nothing today."

"Alright, thanks."

Manny watched as the drifter mounted his bike. "You're leaving so soon?"

"Like hell I'm sticking around." Deacon started his bike and took off.

<———————————<<<<<<<<<<<<<

As Deacon was riding through Belknap after accepting a job from Tucker, he was ambushed by marauders. A bullet pierced his right shoulder, knocking him off his bike. The motorcycle scraped against the asphalt as Deacon landed on his back with a painful grunt. "Fucking marauders..."

Four marauders charged at him, their weapons raised. The sniper tried to shoot him again, but the man in the tree suddenly was shot and screamed as he plummeted towards the road.

Deacon grabbed the bat hanging on his bat, ready to defend himself. Before he could even swing it, all the marauders were killed. The gunshots rang through the air, but the drifter was unable to locate his savior.

Suddenly, a figure climbed down a tree by the highway and landed a few feet away from Deacon. By the stature, he knew it was a woman. She turned around, revealing the mask concealing her face.

The sniper in her hands alerted the drifter, but she lowered and slung it across her back. Deacon was still on high alert as she walked towards him. Standing directly in front of him, she pulled down the hood and took the mask off her face. (H/c) hair tumbled out of the hood as she pulled at the strands to straighten them out. "I can help with your shoulder if you'll let me."

"Uh..." Deacon wasn't sure what to think at her offer. He was still puzzled at her sudden appearance and how she saved him. Now, he wasn't sure what to think of her offer, but he decided to accept her help. "Okay."

"Follow me." The woman guided him to a nearby bush where she fetched a backpack. She rummaged through it and pulled out what she needed. "I know we just met and all, but I'm gonna need you to remove your shirt."

Deacon glanced at the woman with a stoic expression. "You're serious?"

"No, I'm gonna patch you up magically through your shirt," she sighed. "Yes, I'm serious. It's my fault you were shot, anyway."

"How is it your fault?" The drifter questioned as he removed his cut, jacket, and shirt to allow the woman access to the bullet hole in his shoulder.

"I watched the bastards set up the ambush. I should've taken them out the moment I saw them." The woman began examining the wound before cleaning it thoroughly. "Good. The bullet passed straight through. Name's (Y/n), by the way."

"Deacon," the man gave her his name. "Phantom, huh? What are you—some masked vigilante? Never thought I see one of those in the middle of the apocalypse," Deacon commented after he let out a faint grunt of pain.

"Is that what people are calling me? And no, I'm not a masked vigilante. I go around taking out Freaks, Marauders, and Rippers. A few Squatters here and there, but mostly Swarmers and Newts."

"Why the mask?"

"Easiest way to take down a bunch assholes is to infiltrate their own ranks. The mask is so they don't recognize me and report who truly is behind the mask to other marauders. Even with most of the world's population being Freaks, rumors spread like wildfire out here in the shit." (Y/n) bandaged up his shoulder before placing the supplies back into her backpack. "There. It should heal in a week or two since it didn't hit anything major."

"Yeah, uh, thanks." Deacon put his clothes back on while (Y/n) slung her backpack over her shoulder.

She nodded and smiled. "You're welcome." Swiveling on her heels, she began making her way down the highway.

Something inside Deacon nagged him to tell her to stay. He cleared his throat and called out to the woman. "Need a ride somewhere?"

"Actually," (Y/n) spun back around to face him. "I do. You know where Black Crater is?"

Deacon nodded. "Yeah." He went over to his bike and hauled it off its side. "I'm heading there, too."

"Oh," she smirked. "You after the Rippers camped out there, too?"

"Guessing that's why you need a ride there," Deacon said. "And yeah. Those bastards keep ambushing supply runs for the Hot Springs."

"And Tucker asked you to do the dirty work for her," (Y/n) stated matter-of-factly. "Not surprised. Hope you're willing to have a partner on this endeavor."

"For once, yeah. Hop on."

(Y/n) secures her backpack against her back and mounted the bike. She placed her arms around Deacon's waist with a smile. "Let's go kill some Rippers."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<<<

Eight months later, Deacon and (Y/n) found themselves at the Lost Lake Camp. They were forced to bring Boozer to the encampment due to blood poisoning from where a few Rippers had torched his arm. He was currently unconscious in the infirmary while Deacon had been dragged off by Skizzo.

(Y/n) sat at a picnic table, fiddling with a single bullet. She had used nest residue to create a single berserker bullet and was dying to test it out on anyone. While her gaze was focused on the bullet, she didn't notice Rikki sit down across from her. "It's (Y/n), right?"

"And you're Rikki. Nice to finally put a face to the name," the woman responded.

"You've traveled through Belknap and Cascade. Heard any interesting stories about this so called "Phantom?" I heard she wears this weird mask and goes around killing people."

"I've heard about her a few times during my trips. Not sure about the mask, but I heard she's been focusing on hordes recently."

Suddenly, the two women heard someone clear their throat and they turned their heads. At the end of the table stood Deacon, who was glancing between (Y/n) and Rikki. "Sorry, Rikki, but I need her right now."

"Y'know, Deek, I always took you as the loner type. I never expected to see another woman by your side with... you know..." Rikki's voice trailed off.

"Jesus, Rikki," Deacon exhaled. "We're not doing this shit again."

"I know, I know. I was just... surprised, is all."

The drifter grabbed (Y/n)'s upper arm and tugged her out of her seat and away from the picnic table. The woman already knew about Sarah and how Deacon had finally managed to get over her death a couple of months after their first meeting on the highway with her help.

The drifter released (Y/n) as they stood beside his bike. "Hop on. We're going to pay the Rippers a visit."

"What did Skizzo say to you?" The woman asked as she mounted the bike behind him.

"A plane carrying supplies for the Red Cross crashed in Iron Butte. If Boozer's wants a chance to survive, we have to get that medical supplies."

"We're heading straight into Ripper territory. Are you sure you want to risk the peace treaty Iron Mike has with Carlos?"

"That fucking treaty is already falling to pieces. We're getting that supplies one way or another." Deacon revved the engine and took off out the gate.

It was a thirty minute ride to their destination, which was a bridge connecting Lost Lake and Iron Butte. (Y/n) glanced up at the watchtower built beside the bridge. I don't see anyone on duty." Deacon contacted Skizzo, learning the post was unmanned on purpose. With no one on watch, it made it easy to infiltrate Ripper territory.

"Shit..." (Y/n) groaned as she spotted a car blocking their path. They quickly hopped off the motorcycle as Rippers shot at them. Taking cover behind a truck, the duo gladly responded with their own frenzy of bullets.

"Join us and we will—!"

(Y/n) emerged from their cover, shooting the woman in the head before she could finish her sentence. "I'd rather die than join a cult. I also kinda like having hair."

Deacon killed the last Ripper and they focused their attention on the car wedged in the opening between the makeshift walls. "Help me with this."

The woman placed her hands on the grill of the car beside Deacon's and they pushed the car to make room for the motorcycle. Once the vehicle was no longer an obstacle, the two returned to the bike and took off deeper into Ripper territory.

"Snipers!" (Y/n) shouted as she saw two Rippers and scanning the area with their weapons. Even though they had been spotted, the enemies' aiming was terrible and off the mark every time. Not wasting any more time, they drove past the assailants and to the crashed plane.

Dismounting the motorcycle, Deacon and (Y/n) climbed up a ledge and found the plane. From the wreckage, a Swarmer was tossed as if it were light as a feather. A thunderous roar caused both of them to hide behind a boulder.

"Great..." (Y/n) huffed under her breath.

Deacon watched in horror as a large creature emerged from the crashed plane and tore the Swarmer limb to limb. "The hell is that thing?"

"Never seen a Breaker before?" She whispered.

"Wouldn't be asking if I did," the drifter retorts, eyes plastered to the large Freaker as it stomped around the crash sight.

"Set the brute ablaze and let loose whatever ammo you have left. He'll be tough, but we can take him."

(Y/n) went to sneak up behind the brute, but Deacon grabbed her arm and forced her to remain behind the boulder beside him. "You're staying here."

"You're talking to a girl who's taken down plenty of these things by herself and who hunts down hordes in her spare time. I can just add another Breaker to the list of things I've killed. It's more of a tally than a list at this point."

"No," Deacon hissed.

"At least let me get the supplies while you fight the big guy," she whispered back, a hint of anger in her tone.

Deacon glanced between the Breaker and the plane before agreeing to her suggestion. "Alright. I'll distract it while you get the supplies."

"Just remember what I said, Deek. Fire makes it vulnerable." With those final words, (Y/n) broke off and headed around the other side of the boulder. She waited for the drifter to grab the Breaker's attention, which he did with a molotov. She sprinted to the plane in search of the medical cache and couldn't help but hear Deacon struggling against the large Freaker.

Once (Y/n) locates the supplies, she was disappointed to only find one remaining. Although, she was grateful there would be enough supplies to heal Boozer. She had only met the man a month after knowing Deacon. Now, it had been seven months since then and the two were practically friends. Of course, she and Deacon have spent almost every day the past eight months together taking jobs from Tucker and Copeland after learning how well they work together when they took down the Ripper ambush camp in Black Crater together.

A loud, painful groan tore (Y/n) from her thoughts. She ran out of what was once the cabin of the plane and saw the Breaker stomping towards a cornered Deacon. Grabbing the knife attached to her belt, she held the hilt tightly as she charged towards the shirtless brute. She leapt on its back, startling the large monster. Raising the blade, she plunged it into the side of its skull as it tried to grab her with its large hands. A simple blade to the brain was all that was needed to kill the Breaker.

(Y/n) unlatched her body off the Freak's back before its heavy body collapsed to the ground with a loud 'thud.' She wipes the blood off her knife before sheathing it.

Deacon got to his feet, running a hand across his neck as he coughed. "How the hell did that work?"

"Breakers have relatively tough skin and the muscle underneath makes it difficult even for bullets to pierce. Even with headshots, they're still not easy easy to kill. With fire, the skin burns and becomes brittle. In all honesty, the victory goes to you."

"Nice to know," Deacon sighs. "You find the medical supplies?"

"There's only one cache left, but it'll be enough," (Y/n) responds.

"Grab it and let's get the hell outta here."

Once the medical supplies was strapped to the back of the bike tightly, (Y/n) hopped on and they headed back to Lost Lake. When they crossed the bridge, they had an encounter with Skizzo and Rikki soon arrived on the scene. Surprisingly, she didn't scold either one of them for entering Ripper territory to retrieve medical supplies.

On the ride back, Rikki has taken them on a detour to the sawmill not far from the encampment. On top of a roof, they overlooked a horde wandering around the old sawmill. (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed as this horde was much larger than the ones she has faced before. She hadn't realized Rikki had left until Deacon called out to her. "Don't even think about it."

(Y/n) turned her head, showing the smirk on her face. "You know me so well."

"Yeah, well, Boozer and I are the only ones who know you're really this "Phantom" everybody's scared shitless of who goes around taking out hordes without a care in the world."

"Hey, I've taken out plenty of ambush camps, too. Not once have I attacked an encampment."

"You're unpredictable to them. That's why they're scared," Deacon said.

"Then I better give them a reason to trust me. And to do that, I'm starting with the sawmill."

"Hell no. You're not taking out a giant fucking horde by yourself."

"You're not gonna stop me, Deek. You should know that by now. Anyway, you should head back to Lost Lake. I'll be there shortly."

The drifter was confused as to what she was planning. "How do you plan on getting back?"

"Walking. It's not far from here. I can manage."

Deacon shook his head in disbelief, but he knew he couldn't force her along. "Fine. Radio me if anything happens."

(Y/n) offered him a gentle smile. "I will."

Deacon hopped off the roof and headed back to the camp.

The woman leapt down from the roof and grabbed her backpack. She pulled out her mask and change of black clothes she usually wore to accompany it. Changing her attire, she shoved her original outfit into the bag and departed to Lost Lake Camp.

The moment the guards saw (Y/n), they shouted for Iron Mike. The men and women kept their weapons aimed at the woman as she waited patiently for the gates to be opened. She could hear people in the camp scurrying around and could see a few gathering in front of the gate through the chain link fence.

The gate finally opened and Iron Mike cautiously stepped outside the camp with a stern expression. He stopped a few feet away from (Y/n), staring through the dark eyeholes in the creepy mask. "What brings a woman like you to Lost Lake?"

"Simple." The mask muffled her voice slightly, but it was enough to disguise it so no one could recognize who was under the mask. "To help."

"With what, stranger?" Mike responded cautiously.

"Hordes, ambush camps, infestations... you name it, I'll do it."

Rikki was intrigued by her offer and stepped outside of the camp to stand beside Iron Mike. "You wanna help? Start with that damn horde at the sawmill."

"Let her in," Iron Mike declares, shocking everyone in the camp besides Deacon and Boozer.

"You really think we can trust her?" One of the guards expressed his doubt.

The leader of the encampment spun around and faced the man. "If she was a danger to us, she wouldn't be making the roads safer to travel." He and Rikki walked back into the camp with the masked woman close behind. They sealed the gate and everyone stared at (Y/n) as she passed them.

Deacon suddenly appeared, blocking her path and glaring daggers at her. "Can I talk to you in private?"

"I know you're mad, but—hey!" She whisper-yelled when the drifter grabbed her arm and dragged her to the cabin he and Boozer were assigned.

Inside, Deacon slammed the door shut and pushed her against the wall by grabbing her upper arms. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"Can't I help the camp out?" She retorts vehemently.

"You can help without that fucking mask."

"I'm trying to build a good reputation so I don't end up getting shot in the shit by someone from one of these encampments."

Deacon squeezed her arms tighter, causing her to wince. "What happens when people start wondering where (Y/n) goes when Phantom's around, huh?"

"Cover for me. Tell them I went on a supply run or to check in with another camp," (Y/n) replied.

"You are just—never mind." Deacon released the woman, allowing her to adjust her mask. "If you're taking on the horde at the sawmill, you're not doing it alone."

"Sorry, Deek, but I need to do this alone. I better get going before it becomes night." (Y/n) saw the concern written all over the drifter's face and sighed. "I'll be fine. If anything happens, I'll radio you."

Deacon nodded. "Just come back in one piece, alright?"

(Y/n) smiled gently. "I promise."

#days gone #days gone x reader #deacon st john x reader #deacon x reader #female reader

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robertemeryofficial · 5 years

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Preparing for a concert: A conductors point of view

Preparing for a concert is a bit like preparing for a job interview; with the exception that you face a panel of 80 or so players, staring and waiting to decide in the first five minutes of a rehearsal if you're the worst candidate in history or not. That first three-hundred seconds can make or break you, regardless if you have a baton in your hand or just a good old CV - and as anyone who has been successful in an interview knows, it's all in the preparation. So how does this conductor prepare for those three-hundred seconds?

First Steps

My first step is getting a job in the first place! There is a technique to this, and it's mostly called luck. After that, add in a peppering of contacts, mix in the ability to blackmail a concert promoter with the secret photos of them and the local sheep, and finally garnish with a bit more luck, and Bob's Your Uncle. Now I have the job, I need the music.

Well over half of the concerts I conduct I orchestrate. This means it's my responsibility to fill the orchestral blank pages with squashed flies and hope they sound harmonious. Orchestration is a complicated affair and one that I'll explore in another post. That leaves the other half of my concerts where the music is already written. It's the promoter or orchestras responsibility to post out the substantial, A3 sized scores to me; and when the postman rings the doorbell, I have a mixture of excitement and mild panic at the mountain I'm about to climb.

The Score

The conductor's score is a culmination of all the individual instrumental parts. It has every element that'll be performed on the page, so that means a lot of information crammed into a relatively small space; similar to a miniaturised version of the Bible without the whole parting of the seas thing.

Once I have my scores, I'll try to find existing recordings of the work. It's a lot easier studying the scores knowing how the piece actually sounds. If I am allowed to keep my scores, then I'll use brightly coloured pens to make notes. In a pressured environment such as a concert, the last thing I need is to look down at a faint pencil mark and wonder what on earth I've written. If however, I need to return the scores after the concert, then I have no choice but to use a pencil. But what do I doodle on my page?

Here is a perfect example. When I have a new orchestra with only a three-hour rehearsal and straight into a performance, one of my primary responsibilities is to give confidence to players by being clear with their entry. A player may sit for twenty bars or more without a single note, and instead of dreaming about their next holiday, they have to count the empty bars so they can enter successfully when they need to play next. If you have ever tried to do this, it's surprisingly easy for your mind to wonder, and before you know it, you have no idea how many bars are left before you need to play. This is where I can help, look at them and indicate that they need to play. As there are literally thousands of entries in a piece of music, I can't be there for everyone, so I need to choose the entries that will make a real difference if it's missing. This red marking is telling me 'make sure this player is going to play the part, and if needed, help them out'.

This is a score from a concert I'm about to conduct in Poland with Stewart Copeland. It's a European tour called 'Light Up The Orchestra' showcasing some of Stewart's film music. From looking at the scores, I could immediately see one of the main challenges will be rhythm. As Stewart is probably the world's most famous drummer, and their main occupation is hitting things as hard as possible to complicated rhythms, it's no wonder that his orchestral works need Einstein to figure out the rhythm.

Predicting Problems

To a non-musician, rhythm is a difficult concept to understand; 'how do you read those dots in real time and play your instrument, not only figuring out what note to play but in what rhythm?' But reading music is just the same as reading this article. Your brain learns patterns incredbly quickly, it summarises the word and makes an educated guess at what it says. If a word is spelt wrong, you can still read it successfully, and sometimes you'll not even notice. Did you realise I spelt the word 'incredibly' wrong in the penultimate sentence? Your brain uses the same technique with rhythm on a sheet of music. There are probably only 30-50 everyday rhythms, so once they are learnt, they seem natural. Unfortunately, Mr Copeland clearly thought this was boring, so he decided to use rhythmic structures that are challenging. And although they look complicated on the page, once you've figured them out, they 'feel' very natural and one just has to remember to 'feel' the rhythm when playing rather than analysing it. And the reason for telling you all this? I can safely predict which rhythms will be tricky for the orchestra, so I need to learn them in advance; or I'll be another puzzled musician with a metaphorical question mark above my head; which is no use to anyone.

Discovering The Unusual

After figuring out which entries I need to be aware of, and any challenging features of the music, I need to check for out-of-the-ordinary techniques. The beautiful thing about music is that the rules are flexible, and creativity is king. So if a composer instructs a player to pluck the strings inside a piano, or the percussionist to use a typewriter for a sound effect, I need to know this in advance. The strangest thing in Stewart Copeland's music is to play the guitar like 'Hank Marvin', the percussionist needs a 'Trash Can' to hit, and the pianist needs to play a cluster of notes with his elbow - so I think I'm safe!

After discovering all of those things, I just need to practice conducting any tricky parts and read the scores as much as possible to immerse myself in the music. If I do this well enough, I can stand in front of the orchestra and hopefully pass the test!

Checklist

Leading up to the big day, and for me that is flying to Poland at 5am on Saturday morning, I need to tick off my checklist:

And yes, this list is essential. I once conducted for Raymond Blanc at his world-famous restaurant Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons in Oxfordshire, and I completely forgot to bring any concert clothes. Thankfully I realised just in time for my assistant to break into my house and drive up the motorway to meet me ten minutes before curtain up. I've also forgotten my baton many a time, have left all my music at home and had to reprint all 1,000 pages at the venue. Most hilariously, I forgot to bring shoes to a memorial concert (where I thought it was only proper to wear footwear!), so I sent my mother out to High-Quality-Footwear Street in Blackpool (sadly she couldn't find that specific street so ended up at Primark) to buy me a pair. I've even forgotten my belt, and as my trousers were on the large side, I thought the idea of accosting an audience member to borrow a bit of black leather was a more appropriate option than the audience watching my bottom wobble around.

Wish Me Luck

So as you can see, being a conductor is much more than turning up and waving a stick. It's turning up, waving a stick and pretending to know what you're doing with limited prep time. At the end of the night, if I'm not booed off stage by the orchestra, I know I've done well. With any luck, the next candidate isn't as well prepared as I am, or I may need to find a sheep photo for them too.

If you want to find out more about Stewart Copeland, his life and work, listen to my podcast interview with the legend here:

Books & Podcast recommendations discussing working in the music business and Stewart Copeland

The Bulletproof Musician - an excellent blog and resource useful for all musicians. Fantastic advise that will help any aspiring or professional muso to learn how performance psychology can help you play your best when it counts.

The Musician's Way: A Guide to Practice, Performance, and Wellness - Veteran performer and educator Gerald Klickstein combines the latest research with his 30 years of professional experience to provide aspiring musicians with a roadmap to artistic excellence.

The Alexander Technique for Musicians - This is a unique guide for all musicians, providing a practical, informative approach to being a successful and comfortable performer.

Strange Things Happen: A life with The Police, polo and pygmies - an autobiography from Stewart covering everything you need to know

Dare to Drum - a story of the rock star composer teaming up with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra

Ben Hur live by Stewart Copeland - a CD performed by the Slovak National Symphony Orchestra

Orchestralli (+ bonus) - a 2 disk set of Copeland performing in concert with a select group of classical musicians on tour in Italy

Gizmodrome - a record of Copeland’s latest band, featuring Mark King (Level 42), Adrian Belew (ex King Crimson, David Bowie, Frank Zappa, Talking Heads) and Vittorio Cosma (PFM and Elio e le Storie Tese).

The Police: Everyone Stares - The Police Inside Out - DVD filmed on Super-8 giving an insider’s view of the band’s rise to fame and eventual split.

Related & Recommended Posts

#Backstage #Conducting #Stewart Copeland #The Police #Scores #Concert Preparation

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breadknight-likes-things · 5 years

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Spyro Reignited Trilogy Review: How To Re-Train Your Dragon

It’s 1999, i’m 7 and i’m at my friend CJ’s house, we’re passing the controller back and forth as we play the hottest new game two Playstation owning kids could want: Spyro 2 Riptos Rage. It’s 2018, I’ve just come home from a grueling day of college classes but I’ve got it, I’ve got the hottest new game a Playstation 4 owning adult could want: Spyro 2 Riptos Rage. The more times change the more they stay exactly the same, and thankfully in the case of the Spyro Reignited Trilogy that ends up being a good thing.

The Good:

The Fulfillment of an Imagination: Looking back on the visuals in the original three Spyro games can be a rough time, in fact I’d say that entire generation of video games has aged incredibly poorly in the visuals department. Spyro Reignited Trilogy however, uses the same imagination that developers asked people to tap into back in the day to create absolute wonderlands of spectacle and color that 5th gen consoles couldn’t even dream of producing. Levels that were once unclear and painted with broad ideas and concepts are now all incredibly distinct.

For instance, in Spyro 2 the level Hurricos was always presented as this odd clifftop society, the closest thing it came to the title, obviously named as such to be close to the word “Hurricane”, was the fact it was raining. Today though, Hurricos is a small island, locked in the middle of an endless storm and surrounded on all sides by whipping waves, with the grass being violently blown in the rain and the science loving people living their suddenly making sense for choosing this chaotic place as one in which to do research on the wind! Every level in the trilogy has a loving amount of detail put into it, if there was something you always imagined being a part of the Spyro games but was never really there, well I have news for you, chances are it’s there right now waiting for you to see it.

The updated world designs extend beautifully to the mid level homeworlds, which all feel ripped straight out of an animated movie you get to play!

Spyro’s Just A Little Airborne, He’s Still Good!: Last year when the Crash Bandicoot remakes came out, there was a fervor of questions raised about the originals in relation to the remakes. Were these games always this hard or was I just really patient as a kid? Has the “Sonics Ass” game franchise always been this linear? I didn’t find myself asking any of those questions about Spyro. The Spyro games gameplay were always very simple, it’s all about finding a way to glide to that far off platform or hunting down that last gem you missed in a level.

In this way Spyro has aged leaps and bounds better than Crash before it, because the mechanics were just the right kind of simple and laid back for the time that they’ve translated incredibly well to our modern era. I was almost never stressed out playing these games again, and while you could argue they’re maybe too easy in retrospect I’d say that relaxing pace and lack of roadblocks is a feature we all always loved, even if we didn’t realize it at the time.

An Adventure Reborn: All three of the original Spyro games are present in this collection and if you have a favorite character or moment in any of those I feel I can guarantee you that it’s here and it’s been redone in loving detail. Spyro the Dragon has unique models for every dragon in the game, a far cry from the repeating six or seven we saw on the PS1. Spyro 2 lovingly re-designs all the supporting cast, from Hunter the Cheetah no longer looking like a Muppet and Elora still looking exactly like a Faun you dork.

The cast of Spyro 3 gets the same treatment, with all the new playable characters sporting looks that are clearly updated but evoke the same classic feeling they gave off in the original release(Except, unfortunately, Sheila who comes across as massively over designed). The Homeworlds in Spyro 2 still exude a sense of peace, The Gnorcs still moon you for some reason in Spyro The Dragon and even the Skateboarding mini games in Spyro 3 have aged about a hundred times better than you’d imagine. It’s the small details that really decide whether or not a remake team got the spirit of a game right, and i’m glad to say all of those are here in the Reignited Trilogy.

The remade Autumn Plains absolutely took my breath away, it’s always been one of my all time favorite environments in a game and with it’s new level of detail it’s going to keep that place for a long time.

Copeland Plays The Hits: I’ll readily admit that I was worried for the music in this game, Stewart Copeland of the police turned in incredible soundtracks for the original three games. Not only am I happy to say his tracks are here and undisturbed if you want them that way, but the remastered versions of them are incredible as well. They all feel just like you’d want them to in these updated versions of the games that were all so driven by their tunes, with new wrinkles like a soft thump tone being added into the peaceful tracks of the Spyro 2 home world and new instrumentation adding a layer of depth to some of the first games more simplified tracks. Honestly as it stands, it’s the choice given to you the player to listen to the new stuff, or just go back to the originals you love that puts this game over the top in regards to the music.

The Bad:

Well, for one, Jack here looks like someone used voodoo to bring a Funko Pop to life, does that count as bad?

Supercharged Past That QA Huh?: Much like the Crash remakes last year, it’s not only clear these games were made on a very tight time frame, but that they were made sequentially and their quality decreases the further you get into the series. Now to be fair, I encountered nothing game breaking, but I did notice that bugs, visual quality and other smaller details tended to fall by the wayside the further you get into the series. Where the original Spyro seems to have got the most attention, Spyro 3(Ironically, much like it’s original release) had a fair amount of bugs waiting to rear their weird looking heads. During the skateboard races, for example, the enemy A.I would sometimes just seem to switch off. Only to reactivate at random intervals and jerk back into place, suddenly shutting down any lead you may have gained due to their non action, even if you were still playing properly while they were freaking out.

Where levels in Spyro one and two mostly escaped this, you could see the beginnings of a reliance on re-used assets and quick production in Spyro 3. Like Crash before it, the third game in the franchise seemed to get the least amount of attention, which is a bummer because that one has always been my second favorite. The game was delayed once, last minute even, and I’m very glad it did, because despite what I’ve written here the game never stops functioning or is ever unplayable, if anything these bugs are just minor annoyances, but i’d have definitely hated to see what a version of Spyro 3 even more rushed out the door would have looked like.

Didn’t stop me from platinum-ing the thing!

Spyro Reignited Trilogy, despite a couple nagging issues, is a damn near perfect way to bring back our favorite purple dragon’s original three adventures. The games not only look great with their fresh coat of paint, but have aged beautifully in both gameplay and general tone. I’d heavily recommend The Reignited Trilogy, not just to Spyro fans, but to anyone yearning to feel like that 7 year old kid again. Holding that dualshock and completely enraptured by the 10 or so polygons making up that little purple on the TV in front of you. Welcome back Spyro, I hope we can look forward those wonderful words showing back up the future “An Adventure Begins”.

#video games #ps4 #Spyro the Dragon #Spyro 2: Ripto's Rage #spyro 2 gateway to glimmer #spyro year of the dragon #spyro 3 #classic spyro #ps1 classic #classic games #2018 games #goty #spyro reignited trilogy #game reviews #video game review #sony #sony playstation #xbox one #excellent game

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toogoodmusic · 6 years

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TOO GOOD TUESDAY INTERVIEW: New Chums

New Chums may be a Phoenix based band but their roots extend from all over the country. The foursome includes Seth from California, Ben from Boston, Matt from Nashville and Cassandra from Michigan. Their diverse backgrounds have come together to form this indie rock band that is still riding the wave of the release of their debut EP, See It For Myself. The EP brings together big energy, heavy guitars and shining vocals that come together to form a sound that is both unique and familiar at the same time. Lucky for Too Good Music, the foursome recently took some time to answer some questions about the EP as well as their song, “Come On Come On.” They also discuss how they promoted their EP in a vending machine, what they would like to see before they die and much more below!

TOO GOOD MUSIC: So diving right into it, how did you guys come up with the name New Chums?

SETH (vocals/guitar): I got the name New Chums when I was on holiday in Sydney, Australia. I was in a history museum when I read a placard that described how when new prisoners were arriving in the Sydney harbor the current prisoners would say, ‘The New Chums are here.’ Something about the idea of random people coming together as New Chums resonated with me. When I was putting the band together, and seeing how none of the band members knew each other when we started the band, the name New Chums only seemed fitting.

TGM: Interesting! So yeah going off that idea, you guys are from all over the country…how did you guys all meet and end up becoming a band?

MATT (guitar): Yea, like Seth said, no one knew each other before the band. All of us moved to Arizona over the past few years for various reasons, so we are all transplants to this area. Since I was new to town, I had just put up an online ad if anyone needed a guitar player for some paid gigs to reach out. Seth ended up emailing me and sending me a few of their early recordings. I liked what I heard and thought my guitar playing could really fill up their sound as there weren’t really extra guitar parts on the demos. We met up and jammed and got along really well, so that’s how it began for me. Same thing with Ben before me and then the 3 of us auditioned Cassandra a few months after I joined and it all clicked. So the current line-up formed pretty quickly and then 2 months later we went into the studio to record our first EP together.

TGM: Speaking of the EP what was the inspiration behind “Come On, Come On” and what does that song mean to you guys?

SETH: To me, “Come On, Come On” is about the overall feeling it leaves you with. That feeling is going to be different for everyone who hears the song but my hope is that it fills people with energy and excitement, especially at a live show, and keeps them coming back as our shows get bigger and better. What does “Come On, Come On” mean to us? Hopefully it means we’ll be cashing huge paychecks in the not-so-distant future. We can be a little sarcastic and dry if you can’t tell…

TGM: Ha! I can see that. Continuing on the EP, its titled See It For Myself – what is something that you’d like to see for yourself, in person before you die?

CASSANDRA (bass): On a large scale, I'd like to see the end of "us vs. them" mentality that seems to be pervasive right now. We are more alike than different, so I'd enjoy seeing people realize that and take a breath from all the narrow-minded BS. Smaller scale (and admittedly more selfish), I'd like to see a large venue filled with people who are singing along with all our songs.

SETH: A world tour with The Killers. Is that too much to ask for?

BEN (drums): I, personally, love seeing new countries. I’d love for the band to be able to travel overseas and play a bunch of shows. Touring elsewhere is a ton of fun, and it’d be a blast with this group.

MATT: I just had my first daughter 5 months ago, so I’ll be mushy and say I’d love to live to walk her down the isle at her wedding someday. Also, of course, along with the guys, I’d just love to get to the point where we were headlining tours and had a strong, sustainable fanbase across the US and abroad.

TGM: When you released your EP, you did it in a clever way involving vending machines. Can you tell more about the story behind that and how that happened?

CASSANDRA: First, you pour all your energy and focus into writing and arranging songs that you really like. Then you pour all your energy and focus into recording those songs, making them sound as good as they can. When you finally have that recording in your hands, you need to pour all your energy and focus into getting it into other peoples' hands. You do that any and every way you can; selling CDs at shows isn't enough, you need to reach wider. We had access to a vending machine at a large sports complex, so we threw a few copies in there, put a sticker on the outside of the machine that said "Support Local Music! You won't regret it" and we sold all the copies of our EP that we put in there. It helped break up the monotony of asking friends/fans to buy it via social media and in person at our shows. It's fun to think that people who didn't know our band, haven't seen us live, bought our EP in a vending machine and may be driving around listening to us right now.

TGM: Ha! That is really cool and what an interesting way to promote an EP and I bet the people that didn’t know you before and bought the EP enjoyed what they heard. With that being said how would you describe your sound?

SETH: I’d say our sound is guitar driven with an emphasis on great tones, big hooks and melodies you can’t get out of your head. We spend a lot of time fine-tuning our songs so there’s a unique element to each individual song. The blank canvas of the melody over a single guitar lends itself for interpretation to the rest of the band members and we all collaborate on it from there to ultimately develop what it blossoms into.

TGM: Let’s dive deeper into that - what is your writing process like? Is it more collaborative or individual?

MATT: Seth will typically bring a chord progression and lyrics already in tact for a song. Sometimes, we will just begin jamming on a brand new song in full rehearsals and just all start hashing parts in real time. Mostly though, Seth and I will sit down and I’ll begin writing guitar parts off of his original structure so we at least have a general map of what the guitars will do going into full band rehearsals. From there, we begin jamming on it full band and songs can go all sorts of different directions with everyone just throwing out ideas as they come. With the end product being very collaborative, each new song usually take several weeks in rehearsals to finalize. It’s crazy sometimes to hear how much dynamically or arrangement wise some of our songs end up from where they started at that first rehearsal. That’s the cool thing about writing and creating together, also being patient and working on a song until it feels right to everyone.”

TGM: I saw that you guys performed on the main stage at the Mesa Music Festival in Arizona - what was that like? Any interesting stories from that festival?

BEN: It was hot and sweaty like rock n roll should be! The only real surprise for that show was actually finding and getting to the stage. It was our own little Spinal Tap moment. Overall, that was a fun one to play, though. Big stages are cool, and in some ways, are easier to play than smaller ones.

TGM: If you could headline one festival which one would it be?

MATT: I’d say Bonnaroo or Lollapalooza would be incredible

TGM: Those would be great - Bonnaroo is a favorite of mine so I’ll definitely have to make it out there if you guys headline! Individually, if you could only listen to (5) artists/bands for the rest of your life who would they be?

CASSANDRA: Wow, that's a tough question and I will be second-guessing my answer for weeks: 1) Elvis Costello and the Attractions 2) Cheap Trick 3) Frank Turner 4) Jimmy Eat World 5) Butch Walker

MATT: Weezer, Jimmy Eat World, The Beach Boys, MXPX and Copeland

SETH: In no particular order: Gerardo, Milli Vanilli, Chumbawamba, Smash Mouth, The Beatles (winks)

BEN: This is always a tough one to answer. There’s the Beatles that will always be timeless rock music and should be included. Further than that, though, I’d guess I’d want to find 4 other artists/bands that change things up a lot from record to record because I get bored easily. I think I’d just probably go crazy listening to only 5 bands.

TGM: And last but not least what does the rest of 2018 look like for you?

MATT: We will be staying busy playing mostly regional shows and a few Festivals through the Fall. There is always new music we are working on and have been playing a new song out about every 2 or 3 shows. So just keep writing and gearing up for our next run in the studio, no time table set on that yet.

A HUGE shout-out to Ben, Cassandra, Matt & Seth of New Chums for taking the time to answer some questions from Too Good Music! Be sure to keep up with them and everything new with New Chums below:

Facebook | Instagram | Spotify | Twitter | Website

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mcneelamusic · 3 years

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How to Play the Tin Whistle Like Mary Bergin

Legendary tin whistle player Mary Bergin is the most iconic tin whistle player of our time. She single handedly revolutionised Irish tin whistle playing and elevated the status of this humble instrument.

Without her trailblazing influence, Irish tin whistle playing would never have reached the heights it has. She has inspired countless generations of musicians. Mary Bergin is, hands down, the greatest thing to ever happen to this oft-maligned and overlooked instrument.

Mary’s playing style is iconic and her technical skill enviable. Every Irish whistle player wants to play just like her, and rightly so.

Mary Bergin, for me, is what every whistle player should aspire to – pure trad. – Joanie Madden

So I’ve put together this handy guide for any aspiring tin whistle players, to show you how you too can follow in the footsteps of this whistling master.

Contents [hide]Practice Makes Perfect Stamina & DriveBreathing Exercises The Purpose of the Breath Tasteful Ornamentation Choosing the Right InstrumentWild Irish Whistle Setanta Whistles Feel The Music ListenWhat Came Before Tin Whistle Tutorials Tin Whistle LessonsThe Ultimate Tin Whistle Course Why stop there?

Practice Makes Perfect

We all know the old adage. How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice!

Well, the same answer applies here. If you want to master the tin whistle and elevate your playing to the same level as Mary Bergin, then you need to practice.

We all love to marvel at the skill of great musicians, often remarking on their ‘natural talent’. The truth is however that talented musicians have worked hard to reach this level of playing. If you put in the work, you too will see the benefits. Establishing a daily practice routine will work wonders for your playing. This might sound daunting, but a daily 20 – 30 minute session is far more beneficial than one long practice session a week.

You’ll build stamina and develop muscle memory. Daily immersion will also help you commit the music to memory. So what are you waiting for? Let’s get to work.

If you need some help, why not check out my blog post on effective practice methods which may offer a little guidance on the matter.

Stamina & Drive

You might think that such a small instrument doesn’t require much stamina to play. This is a common misconception however.

If you listen to any of the great Irish tin whistle players, you’ll notice they all have one thing in common – lung power. Mary Bergin is no exception. See her in action below alongside the revolutionary tin whistle player, Michael McGoldrick:

Strong breath control is absolutely fundamental to good tin whistle playing. As an Irish whistle player, mastering your breathing is one of the most important steps toward mastering your instrument.

The breath affects not just your tone, but also the rhythm and flow of the tune.

So how do you develop lung power to rival your idol? It’s easy. Exercise!

Breathing Exercises

Simple breathing exercises are an excellent tool to help you improve your breath control and increase your lung capacity.

Incorporating tried and tested exercises into your daily practice routine will help you gain full control of your breathing, your instrument and your playing.

Of course, regular physical exercise helps too, but breathing exercises can be practiced from the comfort of your couch. What’s not to love? I’ve put together a few suggestions, to assist any flute or tin whistle players on their musical journey.

You can find them here: Exercises and Technique to Improve Your Flute and Tin Whistle Playing

The Purpose of the Breath

Mary Bergin’s breathing is actually a feature of her playing style. She uses the breath to add a pulsing drive to tunes. In her own words:

In whistle playing, what I love is the combination of the notes and the breath. It’s not just a matter of taking in air, but of using the breath to give the tune a push forward. Where other people like to use continuous flow in their playing, I like to build the phrases up with the breath – give the tune a ‘hup’ every now and again. – Mary Bergin, Irish Times

Have a listen and see if you can identify the role of the breath in her tin whistle playing:

Tasteful Ornamentation

Mary’s playing is representative of the older, more traditional style of Irish tin whistle playing. Where she differs from the older generation of whistle players however is in her masterful use of ornamentation.

Mary Bergin has an amazing command over her instrument. Her technical skill is impressive to say the least.

Tonguing, cuts, rolls, triplets, slides and bounces – her playing is filled with these perfectly executed ornaments. Yet the music never sounds cluttered or excessively decorated. Each flourish and embellishment is carefully considered and added only to enhance the tune.

Mary uses ornamentation only when appropriate, depending on the needs of the music. As a result, her performances can vary from beautifully subtle to highly decorative, depending on the context.

Brightly ornamented but uncluttered, her playing is distinctive with a crisp articulation. – Fintan Vallely

Her performance below with the iconic Joe McKenna, Alec Finn and Bríd Uí Bhraonáin is a masterclass in how and when to ornament and embellish. Her playing blends perfectly with Joe’s yet still contrasts beautifully when it needs to and, most importantly, when the music calls for it:

Choosing the Right Instrument

One of the easiest ways to replicate the sound of your favourite musicians is to try to get your hands on the same make and model of musical instrument.

This can sometimes be easier said than done however. Many professional musicians play instruments that cost thousands.

Well, if you’re looking to pick up the same instrument as Mary Bergin I have good news.

Mary plays an eclectic assortment of Generation whistles, alongside tin whistles by John Sindt, Pat O’Riordan and Michael Copeland. You can see her in action on one of her Generation whistles below:

While the latter – Sindt, O’Riordan and Copeland – produce truly beautiful whistles, their instruments are expensive investments. These tin whistles are also increasingly difficult to get hold of. Generation whistles however, cost less than €10 each. These mass produced tin whistles can be a bit hit or miss though.

Before high quality tin whistles became easily accessible, serious players would take the time to dig through a batch to find any hidden gems lying amongst them.

With the widespread availability of high quality whistles at affordable rates, this is no longer necessary.

Let me recommend two beautiful whistles that would serve you well in recreating the bright clear tone of Mary Bergin…

Wild Irish Whistle

This exciting new tin whistle is the latest addition to the McNeela family. It’s ideal for tin whistle players at any stage of playing – beginner, intermediate or advanced.

The Wild Irish Whistle is designed with ease of playing in mind. It offers amazing playability and great responsiveness. Most importantly, it doesn’t require too much huffing and puffing to produce a great sound, which makes playing and practicing a breeze.

This tin whistle offers excellent tuning between octaves and a bright, sweet tone throughout, even in the higher register. So you won’t get any unwanted shrill high notes when you play. Some whistles require a real workout when trying to achieve a clear tone in the higher octave, but the Wild Irish Whistle does the work for you.

This is a whistle that will encourage anyone to pick it up and play it as often as they can. From its playability to its beautiful tone, it will make learning to play an enjoyable experience right from your very first note. Even more exciting, it’s available as both a soprano whistle and alto whistle, in a range of keys.

See it in action below in the hands of Robert Harvey, a virtuoso whistle player following in the footsteps of Mary Bergin:

Setanta Whistles

John O’Brien crafts the beautiful Setanta Whistles right from our very own workshop here at McNeela Music.We’re honoured to share our workspace with this legend of the Irish music scene, and to learn from his musicianship and craftsmanship. John’s premium tin whistles are a labour of love which is evident any time you pick one up to play it. But what is it that makes these new whistles so special?

John is an experienced pipes and whistle player who has toured with Riverdance. He designed these whistles to cater for his needs, and the needs of others, as a professional musician.

His full range of Setanta whistles includes soprano whistles, alto whistles and a stunning selection of low whistles. Each tin whistle offers beautifully warm clear tone in all octaves, excellent responsiveness and exceptionally accurate tuning.

These beauties are a worthy investment for any whistle player. You’ll be able to hear and feel the difference a premium instrument makes to your playing.

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Feel The Music

If your only goal as a tin whistle player is to emulate your favourite player and sound exactly like her, turn back now. Individual style is just as important as matching the abilities of the greats. As is enjoyment.Why you play music is just as important as how you play it.

You could be the most technically skilled performer in the world but if you’re not connecting with the music you’re playing, if it doesn’t stir emotions and bring you joy, then what’s the point?

The other thing I value in music is, I suppose, something to do with soul… If the music is coming from your head – if you’re trying too hard with your head – it only reaches the head, and then kind of cuts off. I need someone to be playing from other space that hits another part of me. And that goes for any kind of music… if someone is using their head to try and impress me with all sorts of techniques and stuff, I actually switch off very quickly – no matter how good they are. – Mary Bergin, Irish Times

How do you develop this connection to the music? The answer is simple. Listen.

Listen

All of the greatest traditional Irish musicians have one thing in common. They each grew up on the music of their predecessors. They were immersed in traditional Irish music, surrounded themselves with it. They listened greedily to the playing of others in order to learn all they could about not just their instruments, but the music itself.

Listening to the music of legends of traditional Irish music is just as important today. Mary Bergin’s phenomenal solo albums are the perfect place to start.

Feadóga Stáin and Feadóga Stáin 2 are two of the greatest Irish tin whistle recordings ever made. They are a treasure trove of tunes and a masterclass in tin whistle playing:

If like me however, you’ve already committed these two brilliant albums to memory, then what should you listen to next?

What Came Before

Who did your musical idols learn from? Who did they listen to growing up? Find recordings of these people and listen to them. Go back to the source. Listen to a variety of traditional Irish instruments… The more the music gets into your head, the better the music will be that comes out through your fingers. – Caitlín Nic Gabhann

Mary’s playing was hugely influenced by the flute playing of Packie Duignan and the whistle playing of Willie Clancy. So why not listen to the music of these two legendary icons and see what it was about their own playing styles that inspired and influenced one of the greatest Irish tin whistle players of our time?

Sometimes when I encourage people to listen to older recordings they can be put off by a few things – the recording quality, and, sometimes, the playing itself. While older playing styles may not be immediately pleasing to unfamiliar ears, I promise, they have a wealth of knowledge to offer.

When I look back on myself as a younger musician I would have sought out a lot of the older players. They mightn’t have been technically brilliant, or had the most amazing ornamentation, but they had something special – and it’s the rhythm. That’s the thing that’s going to get the foot tapping, get the body moving.– Mary Bergin, Irish Times

Even the most technically skilled musicians still have plenty to learn from the veterans of Irish music. So listen to every recording you can get your hands on (a much easier feat in this digital age than it was back in my day) and ask yourself what these musicians are bringing to the music? What is that special something they have that remains unrivalled by technical brilliance? Soul.

Tin Whistle Tutorials

Luckily Mary herself has recognised the demand for whistle players wanting to follow in her footsteps and emulate her playing. So helpfully, she has produced a series of three tin whistle tutors.

This comprehensive tutorial spans three volumes and is the culmination of many years of performing, teaching and honing her craft. Each book caters for a different level of ability from Beginner to Professional level. Learn more here.

In a market riddled with unhelpful tin whistle tutorials, Mary’s books are a godsend. She pours her expertise into every page and track, happily sharing her insider knowledge. She is not only a gifted performer, but a wonderful teacher too.

Tin Whistle Lessons

While Mary’s tutor books offer brilliant guidance to aspiring whistle players of any level, the best way to really accelerate your playing is with tin whistle lessons.

A good tin whistle teacher will guide you on your musical journey while challenging you in fun and exciting ways. They can offer expert guidance and insight into the music and help you to develop your own style.

The Ultimate Tin Whistle Course

I know that sometimes access to high quality teachers can be difficult. That’s why McNeela Instruments now offers a complete tin whistle course with professional whistle player (and our brilliant in-house whistle maker), John O’Brien.

Our Irish tin whistle lessons will equip you with all the skills and tools you need to sound good right from your very first note. Our Beginner Course will teach you everything you need to know about the tin whistle, including basic technique and ornamentation and your first six session tunes. In fact, you’ll be session ready in just ten weeks!

These ten structured video lessons will teach you everything you need to know to be session ready. Learn basic technique, ornamentation and your very first Irish session tunes all in a fun, relaxed environment. Follow John’s expert guidance to establish a good practice routine and in just ten weeks you’ll be a competent, confident player, ready to progress to the next level.

📷

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[Image: Féile Traidphicnic]

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quirkycoterie · 6 years

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Honest Q&A: Round Table

Right… there are a lot of you, let’s just go around the table.

What are your full names?

Sanagi: “Satou Sanagi.”

Aliiza: “Aliiza will do.”

Ami: “Ami Cashmere Copeland. Call me any of it.” *Ami is pronounced Ah-mee.*

Aqua: “Aquamarine Orchard, but since it’s a bit long, most people just use Aqua.”

Qatun: “Qatun of the Noykin tribe. You can use the translation of M’lady, or Mistress is also acceptable.”

What do your friends call you?

Sanagi: “I’ve been called Sana a few times…”

Aliiza: “I don’t have friends, don’t want them.”

Ami: “Ami or Cashmere. People seem to like the sound of Cashmere better.”

Aqua: “Familiar people use Aqua.”

Qatun: “None of your business.”

What is your favorite animal?

Sanagi: “More like who. Tyranny, my little couerl.”

Aliiza: “Horses are useful and alright.”

Ami: “Efts… fantastic creatures!”

Aqua: “Jellyfish are very interesting.”

Qatun: “The ones that lick my boots.”

Where were you born?

Sanagi: “Tsudzurimura. Off the Bay of Yanxia.”

Aliiza: “No clue.”

Ami: “Buscarron’s Druthers, actually.”

Aqua: “On the road somewhere.”

Qatun: “The Azim Steppe of course.”

Do you have children?

Sanagi: “Not at this time.”

Aliiza: “Not that I’m aware of.”

Ami: “That adventure is totally for later.”

Aqua: “Why would you desire any?”

Qatun: “None.”

Is there a person/people you love?

Sanagi: “I love my parents.”

Aliiza: “Love is weakness and I have none.”

Ami: “Of course! My fans are the best.”

Aqua: “No. Love is not very logical.”

Qatun: “There are more who love me.”

What is your favorite color?

Sanagi: “Purple… or teal….hmmmm.”

Aliiza: “Black and green.”

Ami: “Can I say the rainbow? I mean… why pick just one!”

Aqua: “Aqua and purple.”

Qatun: “Blood red, literally.”

What is your full occupation?

Sanagi: “Botanist and healer. I run my free clinic out of my apartment in Lavender Beds Ward 3, Lily Hills Subdivision, and apartment 57. It’s always open and Gillian will let me know if people come when I’m not home so I can return.”

Aliiza: “Mercenary. If the job takes me on the seas, so much the better. I can be contacted at the Drunken Wench.”

Ami: “Author! I write about my experiences. Perhaps you’ve seen some of my work?”

Aqua: “Let’s go with…. Professional student. Also… now that you mention it, I have noticed your work Ms. Copeland. I’ll look into it further.”

Qatun: “Some call me therapist. Some call me dominatrix. All address me with respect.”

Are you good at physical fighting?

Sanagi: “I did well at the few courses I took for some basic defense.”

Aliiza: “You have to ask?”

Ami: “I’m fit, and I can use a bow… I’ve won the few real fights I’ve been in… just… not really my scene.”

Aqua: “I would have to say no.”

Qatun: “If that’s what you’re into, sure.”

Which form are you best at?

Sanagi: “Hand to hand, mostly defensive moves.”

Aliiza: “Fists and feet, multiple styles, but all of them will put you in the ground.”

Ami: “I guess you’d call it scrapping.”

Aqua: “Running?”

Qatun: “If you’re paying, or asking real, real nice like, I’ll be good at any of them. I prefer the sneaky stuff though… little knife play…..”

What about magic?

Sanagi: “I’m pretty talented with magic, yes.”

Aliiza: “Don’t need it.”

Ami: “I’ve... dabbled. It requires an awful lot of sitting still though.”

Aqua: “I’m good. I like the studying. I will get better.”

Qatun: “Oh… I make magic all right.”

Which type are you best at?

Sanagi: “I’m a healer by nature.”

Aliiza: “Don’t. Need. It.”

Ami: “I don’t know…. Suppose I should give it another try for one of my books…”

Aqua: “It does seem like good material for your work from what little I know of your writing. I’d be happy to help you. My strengths are in offensive elemental casting.”

Qatun: “The kind that helps with your darkest fantasies.”

Craftsmanship?

Sanagi: “I dabble in alchemy and cooking and am planning on trying my hand at some other things as well. I like to use the things I gather.”

Aliiza: “….”

Ami: “I view my writing as a craft.”

Aqua: “Alchemy and some minor jewelry making.”

Qatun: “The crafting of dreams…. Or nightmares.”

Any other skills?

Sanagi: “I’m a gatherer and gardener for my botany, and perform old fashioned herbal healing with my own unique medicines along with my magical healing talents.”

Aliiza: “Sailing.”

Ami: “Everything I’ve ever tried! Which… is a lot. I mix a mean drink for sure.”

Aqua: “I dabble with technology sometimes.”

Qatun: “We should discuss those in a more… private… situation.”

Are you an only child?

Sanagi: “I am.”

Aliiza: “I don’t know.”

Ami: “I have several older siblings, but I think after me, my parents decided their hands were full.”

Aqua: “Yes.”

Qatun: “No, I have siblings.”

Where do you see yourself in five years?

Sanagi: “Maybe running my own shop, or a larger clinic?”

Aliiza: “On the seas.”

Ami: “Oh my…. Well…. I guess that depends on how long each of my goals takes, and which new ones I dream up… hard to say really.”

Aqua: “With my own lab, perhaps.”

Qatun: “Retired. Maybe teaching others my special skills, if I find any worthy of learning.”

Have you ever almost died?

Sanagi: “That depends on how you define almost and died I suppose, but compared to some of my patients, I’d have to say no.”

Aliiza: “No.”

Ami: “Oh, all the time! It’s exhilarating don’t you think?”

Aqua: “I have not. I live a quiet life.”

Qatun: “The Steppe can be harsh.”

Do you have a secret, not just a secret, but like a really big secret hardly anyone knows?

Sanagi: “I’m not that exciting.”

Aliiza: “No.”

Ami: “Oh goodness, my books wouldn’t be very good if I kept secrets!”

Aqua: “If I had, telling you yes would be tantamount to saying I wanted to confess it to someone. That sounds… counterproductive.”

Qatun: “Other people’s secrets are my secrets.”

Salty or sweet?

Sanagi: “Savory.”

Aliiza: “Salty.”

Ami: “Why choose?!”

Aqua: “Sweet.”

Qatun: “I believe… Ahhhmeee has the right of it here.”

Do you like yourself?

Sanagi: “I think I’m a good person and pleasant enough.”

Aliiza: “What kind of question is that?”

Ami: “I’m a blast! Who wouldn’t like me?”

Aqua: “I suppose.”

Qatun: “Of course. Why? Don’t you… like me?”

Do you believe in the Twelve?

Sanagi: “I follow my heart, and my heart follows Nophica… among other things.”

Aliiza: “’Til the sea swallows all, whether I like it or not.”

Ami: “Sure, Oschon and I hang all the time.”

Aqua: “I believe Thaliak guides scholars such as myself.”

Qatun: “I think they have an interesting sense of humor. Just a little twisted.”

Are you religious?

Sanagi: “I would say more spiritual. Religion seems very… formal?”

Aliiza: “Believing in some pox ridden patriarchal horseshit doesn’t mean I have to let the waves of it break over my head.”

Ami: “I revel in the life I’m lucky to lead each day! Does that count?”

Aqua: “I don’t think I fit the definition of religious, no.”

Qatun: “I make others worship.”

Do you carry prejudice with you?

Sanagi: “I dislike Garleans… although Master Garlond makes me believe that some are salvageable.”

Aliiza: “Nope. I hate everyone equally.”

Ami: “Oh, no… I believe everyone can learn to have a little fun!”

Aqua: “I prefer to employ reason in my judgements, thank you.”

Qatun: “All money is exchangeable.”

What do you consider entertainment?

Sanagi: “I enjoy people watching.”

Aliiza: “Bar brawls.”

Ami: “Pretty much everything!”

Aqua: “Experiments… and a good performance, particularly dances around a fire.”

Qatun: “Watching someone’s eyes roll back in their head while I listen to their breath catch….”

Favorite drink?

Sanagi: “Chartreuse for sipping, rum for drinking, sake for remembering.”

Aliiza: “Rum and ale.”

Ami: “Tequila all the way, don’t care how it’s served.”

Aqua: “Tzuica or a glass of wine.”

Qatun: “I like to keep a clear head, but if I’m going to indulge, then Gin tends to be my go to.”

Do you have any family traditions?

Sanagi: “We had some traditions with planting and harvesting that were personal.”

Aliiza: “No idea.”

Ami: “Always try the local stew when you arrive somewhere new.”

Aqua: “Not that I currently keep.”

Qatun: “You sell the first horse you break. Keeps you from getting attached.”

Are you a good person?

Sanagi: “I think so.”

Aliiza: *snorts*

Ami: “Shoot…. I’m not a bad person?”

Aqua: “Good in the way you are using it is an unquantifiable term so I find myself unable to answer your question.”

Qatun: “You have no idea how good I am.”

Thank you for answering my questions.

Sanagi: “You’re welcome. If I can ever help, you know where my clinic is. Here’s my linkpearl.”

Aliiza: “Wait… you’re not paying us for this?”

Ami: “You bet! One more new experience for me!”

Aqua: “Anything to assist in scholarly pursuits.”

Qatun: “Just remember, you’ll have to ask more nicely next time.”

#sanagi_satou #aliiza_merlthuba #ami_copeland #aquamarine_orchard #qatun_noykin

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donveinot · 4 years

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True Prophecies by False Prophets?

Image by Erika Wittlieb from Pixabay There is a general belief among Christians that true prophecies cannot be made by false prophets. After all, the thinking goes, false prophets can only give false prophecies. We even have a biblical test to determine if one is a false prophet that is given in Deuteronomy 18:20-22: But the prophet who presumes to speak a word in my name that I have not commanded him to speak, or who speaks in the name of other gods, that same prophet shall die.’ And if you say in your heart, ‘How may we know the word that the Lord has not spoken?’— when a prophet speaks in the name of the Lord, if the word does not come to pass or come true, that is a word that the Lord has not spoken; the prophet has spoken it presumptuously. You need not be afraid of him. Just one failed prediction by someone claiming to be a prophet of God makes that person a false prophet! But the opposite is not true, because even if a false prophet should hit on a true prophecy, he could very well still be a false prophet if he fails certain other criteria, as laid out in Deuteronomy chapter 13. This was very serious business because in that day, giving false prophecy was a capital offense and false prophets were to be executed. The penalty had to be that severe, because people had to know who was truly speaking for God, and who was a fraud who could lead the people away from truth. So, in Deuteronomy 13, we have an entire chapter devoted to the description of a false prophet who may give true predictions of future events, the synopsis of which is contained in the first three verses: If a prophet or a dreamer of dreams arises among you and gives you a sign or a wonder, and the sign or wonder that he tells you comes to pass, and if he says, ‘Let us go after other gods,’ which you have not known, ‘and let us serve them,’ you shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams. For the Lord your God is testing you, to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul. (Deuteronomy 13:1-3) The first test of a false prophet revolves around the question of which god are they leading you to embrace? It’s interesting that recently, a chance to test a “prophet” surfaced on the Internet. As the Corona virus is spreading across this land, the writings of a deceased psychic, Sylvia Browne, have been cited as evidence of her accuracy and thus her credibility. In her 2008 book, End of Days: Predictions and Prophecies About the End of the World, on page 312 she writes: In around 2020, a severe pneumonia-like illness will spread throughout the globe, attacking the lungs and the bronchial tubes and resisting all known treatments,” Browne wrote. “Almost more baffling than the illness itself will be the fact that it will suddenly vanish as quickly as it arrived, attack again ten years later, and then disappear completely.” Viola! Here we are in 2020, and the Corona virus has arrived on the scene, has spread globally, attacks “the lungs and the bronchial tubes,” and at this time we have no vaccine (though most who contract the illness go on to recover). A vaccine is currently being tested, so it is yet to be seen if the illness will indeed “resist all known treatments.” And of course, it will be another ten years before we’ll know if the second part of her prophecy “comes to pass.” If it doesn’t, not to worry, she won’t be stoned to death. It’s “not done” to stone people to death today since we do not live in a theocracy, and in any case, she has already passed from this life. Someone might protest and say Browne never claimed to be a prophet from God. Ah, but she did make exactly that claim! In, “Sylvia Browne Dead at 77: Psychic Said Her Powers 'Come From God'” Christian Post Reporter, Sami K. Martin writes: Sylvia Browne died Wednesday, Nov. 20, at the age of 77. Browne was a prominent figure for those who believed they could see into the future, and Browne firmly believed that her special powers came directly from God, though she was heavily criticized for many of her predictions and claim that she was given information from God and angels. She may have been channeling some being which she mistook as an angel sent by God. There are many people today who are in contact with spirit beings supposedly sent to them by God. It’s quite a popular thing. What would-be channelers do not realize is that they may be in contact with spiritual entities known as demons whose desire it is to lead people away from the one true God. Sylvia Browne most certainly led those who followed her to false gods. In 1986 she founded Society of Novus Spiritus, subtitled, “Gnostic Christians,” definitely leading people to a false god or gods. Christians may shake their heads and wonder how anyone could be deceived by her and/or her spirit contacts, but the whole point of false prophets is deception. Sometimes God uses false prophets to test His people: …you shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams. For the Lord your God is testing you, to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul. (Deuteronomy 13:3) Jesus warned His followers in Matthew 7:15-23 to “Beware of false prophets…” and the two definitions they would have had in mind would have been Deuteronomy 13 and 18. The “fruit” he talks about is not one’s outward good or bad works but their prophecies - and what they teach about God. We know that because of their attempted defense before Him on judgement day: On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’ (Matthew 7:22-23) Truly sad is the fact that false prophets don’t only exist outside the church - in the world of the psychics and “Gnostic Christians” - but inside the church as well. They operate boldly in the ranks of the Word Faith and New Apostolic Reformation. Word Faith teacher, Kenneth Copeland, asserts God is a physical being about six feet tall, weighs a couple of hundred pounds more or less and created Adam to look just like Him. If God and Adam were standing together, Copeland says, you couldn’t tell them apart. Copeland also claims God cannot operate in this “earth realm” without our permission. That would mean God is a contingent being, limited by us, His creation. That man is a false prophet! Yet, he has many followers within the church. They are failing the test because they did critically assess his teachings against scripture. It seems that one of the principle leaders of the NAR, Pastor Bill Johnson of Bethel Church in Redding, CA specializes in training false prophets, as reported by Church Watch in “Bill Johnson – his false prophets cannot graduate before getting three prophecies wrong”: “In response to a question about how he cultivates gifts such as prophecy, Johnson replied, “When I taught my boys to ride their bikes I took them to the park where there was a lot of grass so that when they fell, they fell safely. You have to create a context for people to learn the gifts, to operate in the gifts of the spirit. You have to give them permission to not get it right. In fact at our school we actually require our students to fail three times their first year. At least three times or they can’t graduate.” – Bill Johnson In Deuteronomy 13, if someone made true prophesies but led people to false gods, they were a false prophet (Kenneth Copeland). In Deuteronomy 18, if they made even one false prophecy, they are a false prophet! God only gave us two choices on this question. Give them a “T” (true) or give them an “F” (false). There is no middle ground. For someone to have to go to a school to learn how to be a prophet is very troubling, since true prophets were called by God and given their gift. They did not have to practice! It is especially revealing that these students must prophesy falsely at least three times to graduate! One false prophecy makes them as false a prophet as they ever need to be! Proponents of “prophecy schools” and that whole mess want to argue that New Testament prophets do not have to be 100% correct, but nowhere in scripture do we find that God changed the criteria He laid down in Deuteronomy. We would look in vain to find a passage where God says, “You know what, guys? I am going to change up the rules a bit. From now on, you can go ahead and give false prophecies. After all, perhaps I’m not making Myself clear enough for you to understand.” No, it is God’s very reputation and trustworthiness that is at stake if He were to give His prophets false dreams, visions and prophecies to spread to His people. If you meet up with an NAR “prophet” and point out they are guilty of giving false prophecies, and they respond by saying, “I am a prophet in a sense,” just ask them, “In what sense - true or false?” There is no middle ground on this one.Ω

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jesscopeland · 7 years

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MYSTERY INC FILES... catherine & jess.

Jumping down the hallway stairs two at a time, Jess was on an adventure to the kitchen for something to eat. Pausing when she heard a feminine voice floating from her father's office, however, curiosity got the better of her. Pressing her spine to the wall and craning her ears to listen, she gave out a frustrated sigh when she couldn't make out everything being said behind closed doors. A second later however, and the door opened, kick-starting Jess into shock and action. Before her, Catherine Vernon stood, as suspiciously gothic as ever and apparently leaving. "Hey!" The word fell out of Jess with uncontrollable force, making her thrust away from the wall quickly to follow the woman towards the foyer, desperate to get in a word before Catherine slipped away into the night.

Catherine had finished her usual round of intimidating the Mayor, giving him her usual list of demands. HIM had left him, and the rest of West Hollow frankly, shaken from what he had done but while the devil worked hard, Catherine Vernon worked harder. Peter had really come around to simply accepting her, instead of arguing. In the middle of the meeting she had heard the sound of someone else, her enhanced hearing and smell picking up on another prescence. As she went to leave, she wasn't surprised to find Jessica Copeland there, and she turned to address her with an unimpressed raise of her eyebrow. "Miss Copeland, can I help you?"

There was something intimidating about Catherine's stare, and Jess couldn't imagine anyone ever saying no to her and getting away with it. A slight quiver moved through her stomach for her father, glancing back to the door which he was left behind. What was it that Catherine always dropped by for? What could the two possibly have in common aside from the election? Quickly, Jess remembered the list of push points Nolan had given her, should this type of situation ever arise. Looking back at Catherine, Jess decided to take a leap of faith. "Yeah um. So, strange question... and I totally won't be weirded out if you are but - you and my dad....?" This was a buffer statement, something to misguide Catherine hopefully into making her think Jess was simply concerned with mundane gossip over any actual intentional detective work. "Are you two... like, seeing each other?" She sagged against the doorway, folding her arms.

Catherine looked over the girl. Frail, pale, skinny, naive -- human. She remembered this all quite well, forcing herself to never forget a second from her time before the blood rushed over her memories. From Josie's notes, Jessica was ditzy and distracted, and it showed. Catherine could never see her as a threat, and at her beginning of the question, Catherine tilted her head in bored curiousity. What could she possibly have to say? However, when she asked if they were seeing each other, Catherine had to laugh, and she did. "Oh, no. Your father and I have important business with each other. I lost the election but he enjoys my input, and Vermillion always needs updated permits and whatnot." She sighed with impatience, beginning to turn towards the door, "Is that all? I'm a busy woman, as you may have seen."

The second that Catherine began talking about the election, a question flashed in Jess's mind, highlighted. "Right... Sure, but you can't blame me for being kind of curious? I mean, from what I heard you worked really hard to try and win that election. And for a while, right? It must have been kind of sucky to lose after being in West Hollow for so long....?"

Catherine turned back, eyes squinting as she tried to understand the girl's intentions. Her questioning...it was not normal. Catherine had been alive for a very long time, and so reading body language and social ques had become something of a hobby. She was trying to lead into something, and if she wanted to talk, they would talk. A sickly fake smile came over Catherine's face, "Why don't we sit and talk? You seem to be very interested in my work." she said, gesturing to their dining room and beginning to walk that way.

Although she kept a calm demeanor, Jess couldn't help the surprise she felt at Catherine's 180 personality flip. Oh shit, had she stood on a booby trap not three minutes into the conversation? She'd have to be more careful if she planned to keep up with the wits of someone who was rumoured to only be about 300 times her age. "Well. You know," Jess gave a noncommittal shrug as she sauntered towards the dining room, feeling weird to be ushered around her own home but complying all the same. "Dad's all boring meetings here, lame schedules there. He doesn't really tell me about the cool stuff he does whenever I ask... You guys seemed to work together a lot so I just thought, if he liked spending so much time with you then maybe I should extend the branch and get to know you too... since you're here pretty often." Then, like a true actress, Jess pulled out the sympathy card, "I mean, it's kind of hard not having my mom around and being the only girl in this patriarchal man cave." She gestured to the house around them.

Catherine had to give it to her, she was convincing enough for a human. If she was a younger vampire, perhaps she would have fallen for it, but she knew better. There were always suspicious humans, and others too, but Catherine had built this town. They knew better than to trifle with her. Catherine walked with the girl, nodding as she listened to her talk. She pulled out the chair for her, humming with faux sympathy at her words about her father. Catherine sat adjacent to her, folding her hands on the table with a calm smile. "Your mother, yes," she began, sighing as she thought back to her own husband. "I was married once as well, to a man who I loved dearly. Like your father and mother, we had our disagreements and parted ways. I truthfully would have wanted to stay with him, but he decided otherwise." she explained, her voice grating a bit at the end, giving away a bit of her frustration with how it had turned out. "Divorce can be hard, but it is a necessary evil of life. I would have thought by now a young woman like yourself would have learnt to dealt with it, but perhaps I have been too presumptious. I cannot offer you a mother figure and have adoptive children of my own, Jessica. Your father is a hardworking and caring man, and it should give you great pride despite his gender. I have met your mother on occasion and she is a strong woman who you should look to for female guidance. The reason why he doesn't tell you about the "cool things" with his job is because the only cool things are the things you already see."Catherine's face was stoic, calm, as she stared straight into Jessica. After a moment, she softened, though, knowing that she would inevitably get more questions if she scolded her. "I understand wanting to get to know me. If you need advice, I can give you advice. if you want to see how running a business and public relations works, I can show you. As far as emotional support, kindship -- I have enough on my plate. You are free to stop by my office is at Vermillion, though." It was as if she was giving a stern talking to to a child, something she only really did with Josie.

There was something about being sat down by Catherine and informed by her that made Jess feel oddly juvenile. As she began talking about a partner she'd had, Jess scrambled to grab her phone, eager not to miss anything. Pretending to quickly barely read a text, she placed the phone back in her lap, recording app running for later listening. "That sucks." Jess replied dryly about her husband, lacking all of Catherine's grace and decorum. Pretending to listen to the spiel about her parents and maternal figures, Jess lowered her gaze a little, as if disappointed. Honestly, it was relief. Being this close to Catherine was starting to give Jess the same creeps walking alone at night by the woods did. Exciting. Thrilling. But still terrifying. "I get it. You're a busy woman." She echoed Catherine's stern words but with feeling. Perking up at the invitation however, Jess smiled. "I've never been to Vermillion but heaps of people talk about it. I went to the website, it looks awesome. How long have you been in charge of it?"

Catherine made a quick mental note of her phone. Modern technology had a way of evading her true capabilities, and so she often just had the younger vampires deal with that, but she had basic knowledge of it. Whatever she had looked at was suspicious, and so she was going to try to be as noncomittal in her answers. "Indeed." she answered flatly at Jess's comment about her husband, not enthused with her choice of words, but it was nothing. It seemed, though, the invitation had caught her fancy, and upon her asking about Vermillion's history, she tried to think of a reasonable number. She was 34, was ten years reasonable? "Ten years. I inherited from my grandmother." No one ever questioned anything about Vermillion, unless it was about the food & prices.

Lifting her arms to fold them in front of her on the table, shoulders hunched as if she was completely infatuated (which she was now), Jess looked impressed. "So it's kind of like a family legacy thing, then? I didn't know your family had been around West Hollow that long. Or that you had." On the contrary, people didn't think she was an ancient vampire for no reason. "See," Jess sighed and sat back. "Dad never tells me anything..."

Catherine for a moment imagined her as one of them, a vampire, the blood staining her noisy lips as she begged for the hunger to go away. A move that would surely upset Peter, but she would be beautiful forever and perhaps even mature at some point. It was a fantasy though, as she didn't wish to take in yet another. "Yes, a family legacy. My family has been around since the founding." she answered point blank, her expression never changing. She hummed in response to her pouting, "For good reason. There are things in this town you don't need to concern yourself with. The boring, mundane," she paused for a moment, and then, the edge of her lip curved upwards. "Although I've heard that you have quite a few friends who think there's more to little West Hollow than meets the eye?" A curve ball to be sure, one she wanted to see the girl defend.

It was likely that Catherine thought she was the biggest fool around, and Jess would definitely need someone to patch her ego back together later after all this Playing Dumb was over. "Right, I forget how ancient this town is sometimes. It's so weird to think how different it might have been back in the 19th century. More petticoats, I assume." Jess mused with a light frown, then turned her expression back to Catherine, smiling fondly as if the woman didn't still creep her the hell out. Hearing her refer directly to Mystery Inc however, made the phone in her lap suddenly feel very heavy. "Well. Can't blame a bunch of geeks for getting creative, right? The summers get kind of long." She attempted to make a joke out of the one thing that Jess cared the most about, feeling her throat threaten to close mid-insult. Instead, she trained her expression into a comical smirk. "After all, every place has its history and secrets. But my spidersenses give me the impression that you're a non believer. Am I right?"

Ancient. Catherine hummed into a smile at the words, stopping herself from laughing. If West Hollow was ancient, then what was she? Prehistoric? She enjoyed the humans more than she cared to admit, with their small ideas and naivety. It amused her to watch them squirm under the uncomfortabilty of their existence, one Catherine had easily slid into. "Something like that. Have you ever studied American art history in school, darling?" It was more out of curiousity of how far Jess could really seep up when it came to actually studying. She discredited the conspiracy kids, except for perhaps one or two, simply because no human would ever uncover the monstrosities that plagued West Hollow. However, the look on her face was pleasing when Jessica realized what her question was -- she knew and Catherine knew what this was really about. "Nonbeliever." she nodded as she considered the word before continuing, "When I was a child, I lived in a shanty house in England. I begged for scraps on the streets of London and fell asleep cold and hungry. I brought myself to America and made my way. My belief was in money, a warm home, and food in my stomach. There is no need to entertain fantasies when this world has provided enough cruelty and fear in it's reality."

"Of course." Jess nodded, a comic frown gracing her features. "The greats, the Renaissance, the deaf and the mentally unhinged." She replied, wondering what Catherine wanted to know from her with that question. Listening to her brief description of her chilhood (or just earlier life, perhaps, who knew with someone who was rumored to be so old) Jess's expression ranged from interested to outwardly disappointed. "That's one way to think about it." She admitted with a stubborn clip to her voice, Jess now squaring her shoulders and looking directly at Cattherine. Slowly, she was begining to wonder how that Josie girl did it... put up with this kind of attitude for a maternal figure. Jess would go crazy. "I don't know... I like the idea of West Hollow having it's secrets. I think every place needs something to make it different than the rest and everybody likes a good Ghost Story. I'm sure you've heard some of the rumored ones going around since you seem to know the ins and outs of everyone around here." Jess raised her eyebrows, subtly hinting back to the fact that even though Catherine didn't bother herself with such... juvinile stories... she sure did seem to somehow know of Mystery Inc.

Catherine noticed every little detail about the girl, from the way she moved in the chair to how the pitch of her voice changed as she thought of new things to assert to the vampire. At her mention of ghost stories, Catherine let out a small chuckle-- oh, yes, if only it were just ghost stories, perhaps there would be a headstone somewhere in London with her name on it, the death date actually in the 1500's. "I have heard a tad of these, ghost stories, you seem so enthralled with. Honestly," she sat back in her chair, her expression bored with the topic as she looked down at her nails, "they do nothing for me, besides bring more tourism into the restaurant. Your father knows it too, which is why I am always visiting to check up on tourist iniatives." Then, her eyes peered back up at the girl, leaning in close as her ruby red lips grew into a smug grin. "Why don't you tell me a few of these stories, hmm? I would find it so very interesting to see what a young woman and her peers are interested in these days. Tell me, child-- have you heard any ghost stories about me, Ms. Copeland?"

The way Catherine seemed so quickly disinterested, quickly made Jess feel less inclined to play the cat and mouse. She knew that she was supposed to be getting information out of the woman with little to no collateral, but this was getting uncomfortable and soon, Jess was going to wedge her foot in her mouth whether she tried to or not. However, Catherine's behavior was flawed. One moment, she seemed less than bothered with mystic stories that weren't deemed to be all real and the next, she was prodding a very spesific topic. Jess squared her shoulders. "Maybe you should ask that adopted daughter of yours then, what with her keeping your hands so full and all." She couldn't help the acid, not liking the way that Catherine had her dancing to her every tune whether Jess wanted to her not. Sure, she didn't want to end up dead in a ditch without a trace but this was getting weird. She couldn't help but imagine that Nolan would be asking these questions so much better than her. "Anyway, you just said you didn't care about them. So I wouldn't want to waste any more of your time." With that, Jess put her phone into her pocket and pressed her palms into the table, pushing herself to stand up. "But thanks. For listening, I mean. My dad's kind of lost his touch these days so... it was good to talk to someone who actually gives me a straight answer." Even if it wasn't the full truth.

At the girl's insolence, her change in attitude from the more sulken and behaved to daring, was a sharp contrast that Catherine both loathed and loved. It showed she had spirit, a side to her that could be exploited by her fiery instincts. It reminded her, honestly, a bit of Josie before she had been turned (although, unbeknownst to Josie, she had been much more unhinged before her transformation than she remembers). At the same time, she hated that tone, the rebellious attitude she was smacked with at her questioning. She showed none of this though, just letting her eyebrows raise as the smirk stayed on her lips. "I'm afraid that while Josephine also has quite an active imagination, she isn't as reliable as you, dear." Catherine's head tilted in faux curiosity as she leaned back once more at her thankfulness for listening. "Oh, Jessica, your father is more in touch on the pulse of this town than you think." She extended a sharp red nail out though, flicking away a stray piece of hand on Jessica's face. Jessica would make an excellent recruit, but, she no longer did that...unless of course, she became a real threat. "It has been such a pleasure to meet such a vivacious young lady like yourself. I do hope that soon you use your talents in the real world where they'd suit you better than as a...what is again? Ghostbuster?" Catherine let a deep chuckle come from the back of her throat as she stood up, just to watch Peter come out of his office, the shock clear on his face at witnessing the two together. Catherine could not contain the wildly satisfied smile that appeared on her face. "Mayor Copeland, I was just talking with your daughter. What a bright young woman you've fostered here." As she walked by him, she stopped him, her hand resting on his shoulder to whisper something wicked before she continued out, red bottom pradas clicking with viciousness as she went.

#c: jess #npc: catherine vernon #jess; mystery inc

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