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katebeckets · 4 months
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GET TO KNOW ME  ✰ [8/10] TV Shows ⤷ Castle (2009-2016)
"There is a universal truth that we all have to face, whether we want to or not: everything eventually ends... but... there are some people who are so much a part of us, they'll be with us no matter what. They are our solid ground. Our North Star. And the small clear voices in our hearts that will be with us—always."
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justellie-b · 27 days
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While I was watching this scene again, I just realised that Kate called Roy Montgomery by his first name when she first confronted him in the hangar because part of her thought he was going to kill her there. She actually called him twice by his first name but I only included one here.
However, once she knew that he was only using her as bait to lure the bad guys and putting himself at risk, she then called him "Sir" and "Captain" 😢😢 Her level of respect for him returned. Also, just realised S3 was so hard for Kate Beckett. She lost both her training officer, Mike Royce, and her captain.
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pollylynn · 10 months
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Title: Misdeem WC: 950
“I don’t see it going anywhere.” —Richard Castle, Food to Die For (2 x 22)
There are times when he’d like to be a liar. This probably does not exactly set him apart from the masses. Who is out there walking around, drawing breath and sighing it back out again who hasn’t wished they’d been a liar at one time or another? Who hasn’t had a friend solicit reactions a truly hideous new outfit and desperately tried to sell a sincere It’s fantastic! only to have their own stupid, truth-telling face nuke the little white lie from orbit?  Doesn’t he—day in and day out—sit across the table from self-tattling morons who’d like nothing more than to lie their way right out of the interrogation room? He might be—he clearly is—in bad company, but he would very much like to be a liar right now. 
Beckett didn’t seem to mind.
His mother thinks he’s lying. His daughter probably would think he was lying if she had any attention to spare. And it’s not even that he wants to be lying. It should be a lie. That’s the agony of it. 
She should mind. That’s the way of things. This whole Richard Castle: Moral Support for Hire gambit should be one in a long line of his fool-proof plans to get her goat—to make her mind. 
But she doesn’t mind. It’s not a problem. He’s telling the truth, and he’s not even getting credit for it. Not from his mother, who is pursing her lips and shaking her head as she sourly reminds him that he should be getting ready for his date.
He doesn’t want credit, though, not in this instance, and certainly not for this truth. He wants to be the rogue his mother thinks he is—the one his daughter would think he is, if she weren’t, herself, so torn between duty and desire. He wants to be the Hamptons, the seductive allure of fun in the sun that makes Beckett forget all about the microscope-requiring AP exam that is Tom Demming. But he’s not the Hamptons. Or Beckett is not tempted by the beach. Or something. 
It’s a cavalcade of lousy metaphors, so he doffs his gloves and goggles. He extracts a spare watch from somewhere and he picks out a shirt in a color that she likes on him. Or a week ago he’d have said it was a color she liked on him, but apparently he’s no judge at all of what Kate Beckett likes or doesn’t like. That is the only explanation for the fact that she’ll be toting her microscope and slides all over town tonight, completely unperturbed by the thought that he will be out on the town, raconteuring his way through the celebrity chef world with one of her high school gang.  
There’s a moment when she bursts on the five-star dinner scene that he thinks she’s come to make a liar out of him. He very nearly chokes on whatever it is he’s eating at the moment and weakly, hopefully demands to know: Beckett, what are you doing here? 
He has the answer. He’d happily write it for her. He’d set her up with anything from cue cards to index cards to a state-of-the-art teleprompter, if she’d only read the lines with conviction: I’m here for you. I’m here because I couldn’t stand the thought of this. I’m here because it is a problem, and I do mind. 
But that isn’t the answer, of course. She is not interested in cue cards, index cards, or his writing services in any medium. She is not there for him or because she minds or it’s a problem. She’s there for case-related purposes, because the only struggle for her is the one between duty and more duty. 
He tries to work himself up to play the part everyone expects—the one she expects. He makes a respectable showing of it. He whines at length about the food of which she has cruelly deprived him and her good friend Madison. He accuses her of being uncivilized. He has another nanosecond’s worth of a thrill when she bans him from the interrogation. He parses the words giggling over the risotto with our suspect up, down, and sideways, searching for vindication—for the indisputable evidence that he’s been a liar after all, but it isn’t there. 
She’s hissing, red-faced, and thoroughly embarrassed by Madison’s Castle baby fantasy, but it’s . . . generic embarrassment. Or worse, it’s embarrassment for his sake—that he’d play a role in such an outlandish fantasy, or maybe that he’ll get the wrong idea? She’s avoidant when he tries to get her goat with a reprise of the Castle baby fantasy, but it’s . . . impersonal. She wants to get on with the case and back to her date with duty. There isn’t a shred of evidence that she hopped in the Fun Police Wagon and  drove it down to Rocco DiSpirito’s place because she’s bothered by the fact that he was out with Madison. 
He wonders how it’s come to this. He wonders when, because he could have sworn that she minded when he had his ten-second fling with Ellie Monroe, when he was on the radar of Bachelorette Number 3. He would have laid money on it being a problem when Rina scrawled her digits across his palm, when Lee Waxman wanted to trade favors, and when Meredith and the Crazy-Sex Train blew through town. He’s positive that she has minded virtually every woman who has so much as given him a second glance over the last year or so. 
But Madison? She doesn’t mind. It’s not a problem, because she, herself, has ‘Something’. 
That’s the truth and he’d so much  rather be a liar. 
A/N: Oof. This was ornery; and I didn't think this was the lie that would drive the story. Blegh.
images via homeofthenutty
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incorrect-multiverse · 3 months
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Montgomery: You abused a corpse to get a confession.
Castle: Used. Used a corpse. There’s no ‘ab’.
Beckett: 👀🤷‍♀️
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radiophd · 18 days
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roy montgomery -- cousin song
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Only You
Pairing: Kevin Ryan/Reader
Characters: Reader, Kevin Ryan, Lanie Parish, Javier Esposito, Richard Castle, Kate Beckett, Original Male Character, Janie O'Malley (Only Mentioned), Roy Montgomery
Word Count: 3057
A/N: There are very little fanfictions with Kevin Ryan/Reader pairing. Therefore, I've decided to write my own. This is also my first time writing a one-shot. Happy reading! I don't own anything from the TV show "Castle" nor you. P.S. English isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know!
"You never realize how much you love someone until you watch them loving someone else." ~Unknown~
You're putting files on your desk when you see Lanie walking to you. Your face falls. Hers twist in annoyance.
'Girl, why are you still working?' she asks. 'You should be ready to leave!'
'Leave?' Esposito asks, surprised. 'Where are you going?'
'On a date with a friend of mine,' Lanie answers. Esposito and Castle whistles. Beckett rolls her eyes. Ryan, who's walking over to your group, stops suddenly.
'It's not a date!' you protest, blushing. 'I agreed to meet him so you would stop nagging me, but it's not a date.'
'Mhm, wait until you meet him,' Lanie says, not at all intimidated. You send her a glare and start packing your things.
'Where am I supposed to meet him, anyway?' you ask. 'I keep asking you that all day.'
'Oh, he's coming here to get you,' Lanie answers. You freeze. You give her a terrified look.
'He's what now?' you ask. 'Lanie, no. Don't do this to me.'
'How else was I supposed to be sure you're actually going to show up?' Lanie asks, shrugging. Before you can say another word, the door to the elevator opens. You look up and you freeze. Your eyes go wide and your mouth almost hang open.
From the elevator a handsome stranger walks out. He's wearing a navy-blue suit with a tie of the same color. He has a dark short slightly curly hair. His eyes are blue, almost grey. He has a light stubble. And in his hands is a bouquet of flowers. His eyes fall on you and he smiles. The moment he does, you feel your knees going week and you feel you're about to melt. His smile is gorgeous!
'Luke, hi!' Lanie calls with a smile. She glances at you and smirks. The man, Luke, walks over to her.
'Lanie, hi,' he greets her and they hug. Beckett leans to you.
'Wow,' she whispers.
'Double wow,' you whisper back. Luke looks at you and you quickly straighten your posture. But then he smiles and you think you're about to swoon again.
'This is my friend I told you about,' Lanie says and turns to you. 'And this is Luke.'
'Hi,' you manage to say, offering him your hand. He takes it but instead of shaking it, he kisses it. Are you blushing? You feel your cheeks are hot.
'Hi, it's very nice to meet you,' Luke says and offers you the flowers. 'These are for you.'
'Oh. You didn't have to,' you say, embarrassed, as you take the flowers. Luke shakes his head.
'My parents taught me to always give flowers a girl you want to go on a date with,' he says. Right, now you're definitely blushing.
'Who says romance is dead?' Beckett teases and offers Luke her hand. 'Hi, I'm Kate. And these are Rick, Javier and Kevin. We're Lanie's friends.'
'Yeah, Lanie told me about you,' Luke says with a smile. 'It's good to meet you.'
He shakes hands with everyone. Ryan hesitates a moment before his turn, though.
'I promise to bring her home safe and sound,' Luke says.
'You better,' Esposito says. 'We're detectives. If something happens to her… we will know.'
Luke nods, taking the words very seriously. You hurry to gather your things, avoiding looking at your friends.
'Okay, we can go,' you say. 'See you all tomorrow.'
'Have fun,' Beckett says with a smile.
'We'll try not solving the case without you,' Castle promises.
'And remember we'll want details tomorrow,' Esposito says. You glare at him.
'I hate you,' you say. Lanie puts a hand on your back and pushes you and Luke toward the exit.
'Don't mind him, just have lots of fun,' she says.
'Bye! It was great meeting you,' Luke says, shooting a last smile at your friends.
'Bye!' they all say. Luke offers you his arm. You take it, blushing, and step into the elevator with him. A moment later you're gone.
'Damn, Lanie,' Esposito says. 'Where did you take him from?'
'Ah-ah, not telling,' Lanie says, smirking.
'Didn't he seem a bit… I don't know… too nice?' Ryan asks, frowning. Others look at him, puzzled.
'He seemed alright to me,' Esposito says.
'And he is, trust me,' Lanie promises.
'Even so… it won't hurt to check him,' Ryan says. He turns and hurries to his computer. His friends exchange a knowing look.
~*~
Next day Kate comes to work alone. Castle has some family emergency. When she exits the elevator, she sees that from her team only you are already here. You're sitting on your desk, staring at the murder board. There's a small smile on your face.
'Hey,' Beckett says, dropping her things on her desk. 'How was your… meeting?'
'I think we can call it a date,' you admit, smiling shyly. Beckett grins.
'That well, huh?' she asks.
'You have no idea,' you answer, grinning. 'He's a perfect gentleman. So nice, kind and sweet. I can't remember when was the last time I had so much fun talking with someone.'
'That's great,' Kate says. 'And did he walk you home?'
'You can say that,' you answer, looking down with a smile.
'Really?' Kate asks and chuckles. You give her a look.
'Can you blame me?' you ask. 'Kate, you saw his smile. I was melting at his smile. It didn't take much to move to other things.'
'And how was it?' Kate asks. You grin.
'Amazing,' you answer. Kate grins back, happy for you. Just then the elevator dings and the door open. Castle, Ryan and Esposito walk out and head toward you two.
'Ah, hello, ladies!' Castle greets you and looks at you. 'How was your… Can I say "date"?'
'Yes, you may and it was wonderful,' you answer happily and stand up. 'Maybe I'm not cursed after all. Be right back.'
You beam at your friends and head to the social room, a spring in your steps. Esposito chuckles.
'It's good to see her so happy,' he says.
'Yeah,' Ryan murmurs, his face grim. Without another word he walks to his desk. Castle and Esposito exchange a look.
A few minutes later you return with a hot drink in your hand. Esposito and Ryan are talking about something. Castle and Beckett are nowhere to be seen.
'- with Jenny,' you hear Ryan saying when you join your friends. You feel a nasty feeling in your stomach.
'How is Jenny?' you ask, trying to act nonchalant. Ryan shoots you a look.
'She's… good,' he answers and clears his throat. 'Very good. And how is… Luke? Did you have fun with him?'
'Yes, I did,' you answer. You and Ryan stare at each other for a moment. Then you look away awkwardly and go to your desk. Esposito stands alone and looks after you two.
'Those two are hopeless,' he murmurs and goes to his desk.
~*~
For the next weeks, you continue to go on dates with Luke. It's going great and soon you even start calling himself your boyfriend. You seem to be glowing and your friends are happy for you. Well. Except, it seems, for Ryan.
While you grow closer to Luke, you and Ryan drift apart. Every time you are having a conversation with a group, Ryan tries to leave it as soon as possible. Whenever you find yourself alone, he quickly finds an excuse to go. You try to pretend it doesn't bother you, but it hurts you a lot.
Your friends, of course, notice the change in your and Ryan's friendship. They try to mend it, but they seem to be at a loss. They have no idea how to fix it. But on the contrary to you, they know what the problem is. However, they also know they can't do anything to fix it.
One day, Castle and Beckett walk into the morgue, with glum faces. Lanie raises her eyebrows.
'I'd ask who died, but it seems inappropriate in here,' she says. Beckett sighs.
'Sorry, Lanie,' she says. 'Things are a bit… tense in the team.'
'What happened?' Lanie asks, frowning.
'Luke happened,' Castle says and gives Lanie a look. 'Why did you think it's a great idea to hook them up?'
'It was a great idea and you won't tell me she's not happier,' Lanie says, not sorry at all.
'Yeah, but now things between her and Ryan are worse and worse,' Castle says. Lanie crosses her arms, her expression stern.
'Well, it's not my fault they refused to admit their feelings and Ryan can't deal with his jealousy,' she says. 'I just helped to even out the field.'
Castle huffs. Beckett tries to suppress a smile.
'The victim?' she asks. Lanie quickly tells them all the information she has for them. They don't come back to the previous conversation.
~*~
One day you, Beckett, Ryan, Esposito and Castle go to an abandoned factory to confront your suspect. The building turns out to be a labyrinth and you have to split up. You walk for some time on your own, your gun at the ready. Until suddenly there are two possible ways in front of you. But a second later Ryan comes from one of them.
'Let's go,' Ryan says after a moment of awkward silence. You nod and you go the only possible way together. The atmosphere is tense and eerie. You don't hear any sound. You don't like it.
Finally, after yet another turn, you see a set of doors. You check them one by one with Ryan. In one room you find a large box and a board with photos of your victim. All of them crossed with a red pen.
'Seems he's our killer after all,' you say, looking closer at the photos.
'Yeah, looks like it,' Ryan agrees, checking the box. 'I found clothes with blood on it. I'm gonna guess they belong to our guy and the blood belongs to our victim.'
'Poor girl,' you say, staring at one of the photos. 'She could do so much with her life.'
Suddenly, there's a loud noise behind you. Both of you jump and turn. The door is closed. Ryan rushes to it and tries to open it.
'It won't budge,' he groans. 'They're locked. And shooting at the lock won't work. It won't open it.'
'Great,' you murmur and take out your phone. 'And guess what? There's no signal.'
Ryan curses. He starts walking around the room.
'Maybe there's another way out,' he says, checking the walls. 'And if not, we just have to wait until others find us.'
'Unless they're trapped as well,' you suggest. Ryan stops for a moment.
'Let's stay positive,' he says and resumes checking the walls. You sigh and do the same on the other side of the room.
'We can actually use this situation,' you say after a moment.
'For what?' Ryan asks. You're silent for a moment.
'Since there's no way for you to leave, you could tell me what I did wrong,' you finally say.
'What do you mean?' Ryan asks, tensing. You sigh.
'Ryan, you've been avoiding me like a fire lately,' you say and turn to him. 'We used to be so close. What happened, huh? What did I do? If I did something to offend you, I apologize, but please, just talk to me.'
You look at him pleadingly. Ryan stops but doesn't turn to face you. Silence fills the room.
'You didn't do anything,' Ryan finally says quietly. 'I… I'm an idiot, that's all. And a bad friend.'
'Care to elaborate?' you ask, raising your eyebrows. Ryan sighs and finally turns. There's sadness in his eyes.
'I want to be happy for you, I really do, because you seem to be with Luke,' he says. 'But I can't look at it.'
'Why?' you ask, frowning. Ryan chuckles dryly.
'Because it's not me you're happy with,' he answers. You stare at him, stunned.
'What do you mean by that?' you ask but Ryan looks away and is quiet. 'Ryan, what are you trying to say?'
'That I like you!' he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. 'Okay? I like you. More than a friend. A-And seeing you happy with another guy… it hurts. I'm jealous and I know that it's pathetic. I know that I was awful to you lately because of that and I'm sorry. But I can't change how I feel. Believe me, I tried.'
You're shocked by his words. But then you feel anger filling you.
'You're a moron,' you say, clenching your fists. 'If you truly like me so much, then why have you started dating Jenny? Because you are the one who had a relationship first. And I tried to be supportive, to be glad you're happy. But it hurt. It hurt so much.'
You blink away the unwanted tears. Ryan is looking at you with a stunned expression. You gulp.
'Why do you think I wasn't going on dates before?' you ask. 'Because no one was good enough and I… I couldn't let it go. But I knew I have to. So when Lanie started nagging me about her friend, I thought that maybe it's time I… moved on. And while I enjoy spending time with Luke… I'm not happy. Not really. Because he's not the one I want to be with.'
You and Ryan stare at each other for a moment. Finally, Ryan chuckles and looks down.
'We're hopeless idiots, aren't we?' he asks. 'I'm sorry I hurt you. I thought it's a bad idea to have something with you, since we're working together. And I never thought you'd want to be with me.'
'I thought exactly the same things,' you admit quietly. Ryan looks up at you. Slowly, hesitantly, he walks to you. Soon, he' standing right in front of you.
'You're an amazing woman,' he says softly, causing you to look up at him. 'I adore your laugh and smile. When you're sad, I want to comfort you. I admire your courage and your intelligence. I…'
He chuckles. There are tears in his eyes.
'I love you,' he says. You inhale sharply.
'Kevin…' you say, stunned, and gulp after a moment. 'I hate you.'
'Okay, that hurt,' Kevin says, frowning. You shake your head.
'I don't mean it really,' you say. 'Just… I… With you I feel safe. You are… so kind, funny and you can always make me laugh when I need it. I'm not afraid to be vulnerable around you. I admire you so much. I… I love you, too.'
Kevin starts to grin. But you look at him sadly.
'And that's why I hate you,' you say and Kevin stops smiling. 'Because I can't have you. You and Jenny… you are perfect. She's everything I'm not.'
'She's not you,' Kevin says. You shake your head.
'I don't want you to break her heart,' you say. Kevin looks down.
'I think that if I continue this relationship, knowing how you feel, I'd be unfair to both of you,' he says. 'And to myself.'
You nod sadly. Kevin cups your face. You look up at him. He smiles softly.
'Can I say it again?' he asks and you nod slowly, not sure what he means. 'I love you.'
You smile. You lean slightly toward him.
'I love you, too,' you say quietly. Kevin's eyes shine with happiness. He leans toward you and before you can think whether it's right, you're kissing and it feels wonderful. Sure, kissing Luke was amazing. But this… this was right. You know Kevin is the person you're supposed to kiss. You don't care about the obstacles you have yet to face. Now all that matters is how perfect your lips match his. You forget about the world outside. All that matters is Kevin, the kiss and…
There's a loud noise that causes you and Kevin to jump away from each other with wide eyes. You look at the door and see your friends. They're surprised to find you in such positions. But soon there are smirks on their faces.
'Looks like we've rescued them too soon,' Beckett teases.
'So how long has this been going on between the two of you?' Castle asks. You and Kevin exchange a look.
'Uh… a few minutes?' you ask hesitantly. Your friends give you blank stares. Then they turn to leave.
'Should have locked them up somewhere ages ago,' Esposito says, as they exit the room. You hear Beckett and Castle agreeing with him. You and Kevin look at each other.
'They… knew, didn't they?' you ask.
'Looks like it,' Kevin says. For a moment you stare at each other, then chuckle.
'So… what now?' you ask.
'We will figure something out,' Kevin answers, shrugging, and smiles. 'Because after that kiss… I'm not letting you go. Never again.'
You grin at him and press your forehead to his. You're about to say something sweet, but Esposito's voice ruins it:
'Yo, are you two coming or are we supposed to arrest the murderer without you?!'
~*~
A few days later another case is solved. It was a quick job well done, so Castle decides it needs to be celebrated.
'Let's take it to a bar!' he proposes. 'Drinks are on me!'
'If that's how you put it,' Esposito says with a grin. 'Beckett?'
'Why not?' Beckett asks, smiling. Castle turns to coming Ryan.
'Ryan, we're going drinking,' he informs him.
'Uh, yeah, without me, I'm afraid,' Ryan says. 'Sorry, guys, I have plans.'
'What plans?' Castle asks, but Ryan is already walking away. 'Ryan, what plans?'
Ryan doesn't seem to hear him. Or ignores him. Instead, he walks to your desk, where you are gathering your things.
'Ready?' he asks you. You smile and nod. You turn to your friends and wave.
'See you tomorrow!' you call. Kevin takes your hand in his and you two head toward the elevator. Your friends stare at you, surprised. Captain Montgomery leaves his office and joins them.
'Did they finally admit their feelings?' he asks.
'They even kissed,' Castle answers. 'But… what about Jenny and Luke?'
'I think that since they're obviously going on a date, they've already solved this,' Beckett says.
'Well, then there's only one thing left to say,' Montgomery says. 'About damn time.'
A/N: Thanks for reading! I hoped you liked it. Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could. Have a lovely day/night! This fic can also be find on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45635002
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partnersincrime · 1 year
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castleficpromoter · 2 months
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Hi, I’m looking for stories where Kate does not allow Montgomery to steam roll her and force Castle to shadow her. The ideas been in my head for a while but I can’t find any stories written
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Note
Roy Montgomery from the show "Castle"
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still-single · 3 months
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Roy Montgomery & Friends – Broken Heart Surgery LP (Discreet Music)
RECOMMENDED
The importance and depth/body of work of Christchurch, NZ's Roy Montgomery is too long for me to get into here, and probably redundant for a lot of you, but the gap between his '90s works and the spate of releases from 2016 on (dutifully documented by Omaha's Grapefruit label) feels nearly closed now, and in 2024 it's all had time for new chasms to open around it. (If you're mistaking him for the character from TV's Castle, put down the remote and go outside). Other works of recent years have been dedicated to Montgomery's longtime partner Kerry McCarthy's passing back in 2021, but Broken Heart Surgery really feels like the effort where the grief has settled in his bones, some of the acoustic crispness of more recent releases like Rhymes of Chance muted down into mournful low clouds of chorus pedal chords and the haunting vocals of longtime compatriots and collaborators like Stephen Cogle (Terminals, Victor Dimisch Band, Vacuum; essentially the other lynchpin of New Zealand's modern music) and Garbage and the Flowers vocalist Emma Johnstone. Barricaded in by gentle vocal reveries, haunted poetry and atmospheric synths, this one feels colder and slower, yet more immediate than some of his other works, looking back to his '90s touchstones Scenes from the South Island and the soon-to-be-reissued Temple IV, as well as the massive RMHQ box set, as milemarkers in his astonishing career. Words like "goth" don't even begin to set the stage for the desolation and ultimate rebirth that takes place across these six tracks, and I find myself at a loss for an audience who needs to discover this and won't feel it within their bones, forever attached. Unlike the Grapefruit titles this one's a Swedish import and will not hang out for long. Absolutely essential, the first true stunner of 2024. (Doug Mosurock)
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justellie-b · 11 months
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Missing them just a little bit more 🤍
I love this scene.
Love just how well Kate knows Castle by now; that she correctly guessed he bought the Old Haunt.
Love that each of them just continue on singing the song line by line.
Especially love Kate’s enthusiastic “Ohhh!”
Love how they all walked down together in that hallway.
Love this 12th Precinct family!
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pollylynn · 1 year
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Title: Bound and Determined WC: 900
"There’s nothing going on between Beckett and me.”
— Richard Castle, Tick, Tick, Tick . . . (2 x 17)
She is wide awake with a gun under her pillow. Metaphorically under her pillow. A gun literally under her pillow would be unsafe. She flops from her back to her stomach, punching said pillow as she lands, silently cursing his name. It’s his fault she’s wide awake, policing her own internal thoughts for literary correctness.
It’s his fault that she is not, in fact, too tired to argue. She has, in fact, been having a deeply satisfying, one-sided argument this whole time since she stalked off, wine-less and all too aware of the smug smile he was, no doubt, leveling at her back. Or she had been having it right up until the literary policing started. She has been lying here, staring up at the ceiling, at one wall, then the other, at the door with its stubbornly non-moving knob, her mind whirring its way through every jab and cut and devastating blow she could have, should have, would have landed if only she’d taken him up on that glass of wine. Maybe she should have taken him up on that glass of wine. Maybe she should have taken the whole damned bottle to bed with her. 
“Not really,” she tells the ceiling as she groans and flops on to her back again. Her history—her dad’s history—will not really allow her to be a going-to-bed-with-a-bottle-of-wine kind of person. “Which you should know.” She sticks her tongue out at the door and adds another unforgivable sin to his already substantial total. She scowls hard at  the painted white brick the bedroom shares with the living room. She grips the blankets tight in her fists and wills herself not to throw them back, not to tear open the door and stomp back down the hall for the sheer pleasure of sharing with him the highlight reel of insults her brain has spent the last few hours coming up with. 
She grips the blankets tight in her fists and wills herself not to throw them back, not to slip soundlessly from the bed, not to slink back down the hall to pour herself a soundless, clandestine glass of wine. It’s a dual, white-knuckle truth. She forces her fingers to loosen their hold just a little, but the blankets make their cautious way to her chin. Her shoulders hunch. She’s burrowing deeper into the pillows. She’s making herself small, and what’s that about? What is any of this about? 
She is wide a wake, despite the fact that she is exhausted in every possible way. That is his fault. She tries to right herself by returning to this central fact, but the secret hour has struck in which exhaustion wakes up the whole damned internal house and insists on some middle-of-the-night introspection. 
Why is it his fault that she is wide awake? There’s the obvious. She really does want a chance to deliver some hindsight-curated shots about his schoolboy crush on Jordan Shaw. She wants go gloriously off script and rip him a new one for his crack about the sexlessness of their relationship, although now that she thinks about it, that particular theme could use some curation, because what exactly is the problem with him, for once, confirming the sexlessness of their relationship, rather than responding to Jordan Shaw’s shockingly unprofessional commentary with his usual—a sly, maddeningly confident, Not yet? 
Relationship.
That’s the crux of it. She wants, childishly, to rush out there, startle him badly enough that he rolls off the couch, waking at the exact moment that his head connects with the hardwood floor. She wants to shout at the top of her lungs that—oh, by the way—they do not have a relationship, they just have . . . sexlessness. 
That’s what she wants to do, and yeah, it’s a line of argument that definitely needs some work.  But more important, even in her current state of exhaustion, her mind won’t allow it, any more than it will allow her to abuse the word literally. 
He is on her couch, and she suspects that if she were to rush or stomp or creep or slink down the hallway and out into the living room, she’d find he’s wide awake, too. He’s probably polishing his own comebacks and stockpiling riffs about her “ridiculous” jealousy, because he is ever himself, just as she is ever herself. 
He is on her couch, because he is not leaving her alone. Because he feels responsible, and even if he has nothing to offer in the way of protection against a crazed wanna-be serial killer, save his rapier wit and a heart-stoppingly expensive bottle of wine, he is still there when it would have been easier for him to not still be there. It would have been easier for him never to have come at all—to have stayed home making sure his Agent Jordan Shaw in The Recapitator poster is hanging level on the wall of his bedroom. It would have been easier for him to have gone when she started scolding him for his breaches of imaginary protocol. 
There are so many things in the world that would have been easier than him lying on her couch, almost certainly awake—than her lying here with the covers up to her chin, very definitely awake. 
There are so many things in the world that must be easier than this thing—this relationship—they’re in.  
A/N: I am ashamed to admit that I have cracked myself up with the image of Castle's bedroom papered with Jordan Shaw posters. J/K. I clearly have no shame.
images via homeofthenutty
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Capt. Montgomery: Why is Castle carrying around a potted plant?
Kate: He asked too many stupid questions today so I’m making him carry that to make up for all the oxygen he wasted.
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dustedmagazine · 7 months
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Mary Lattimore — Goodbye Hotel Arkada (Ghostly)
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Photo by Daniel Boczarski
The late poet Richard Hugo, in his slim essay collection The Triggering Town, presents a line — “That silo, filled with chorus girls and grain” — then asks us to “notice the word ‘that.’” With just this one word, we are on the scene with the poet, who is pointing at something; something palpable, something with a discernible, shape, setting, and surface. Not a silo, but that one. Even if you don’t know where precisely the poet has taken you, you know it is somewhere — and that, per Hugo, “is a source of stability” and earns the poet the authority to “indulge [their] flights” into the extraordinary. The harpist and composer Mary Lattimore’s latest album, Goodbye, Hotel Arkada, performs a similar trick. The certainty in her playing and the narrative clarity of her voice as an instrumentalist, composer, and weaver of sound convey a comparable authority and evoke the same sense of that, of somewhere —  even if that somewhere lives only in the fragments of memories or the specters of dreams. Like Hugo’s poet, she points, dropping us into scenes that we believe and recognize, whether they’re real or imagined. Lattimore, like a great poet, opens a window in each song for the listener to take flights of their own.
Unlike the solitary poet that illustrates Hugo’s advice, though, Lattimore is an accomplished and frequent collaborator. She has found common cause with musicians across a wide sonic spectrum. In previous full lengths, she has mixed her harp’s erudition with artists as diverse as Superchunk’s Mac McCaughan, guitar explorer Paul Sukeena, and folk powerhouse Meg Baird,  also featured here, among many others. Her experience melding the talents of disparate performers with her own comes alive on Goodbye, Hotel Arkada. While none of the six featured artists are credited on more than one track, the album has the feel of an ensemble cast. Their contributions are not just backing but lend drama and tension. This is storytelling music, complete with varied perspectives and nuanced characters.
“Arrivederci,” track two, features ex-The Cure drummer and keyboardist, Lol Tolhurst. His synthesizer, wistful and a little chilly, and Lattimore’s harp are in conversation: positing, responding and giving way. This is a duet, a dramatic dialogue, and Tolhurst is a formidable interlocutor. He starts brightly, his chords flowing and pliant, until, after a long passage from Lattimore, which sees her begin to play with greater determination, he rejoins with scratchy, persistent bass pulses. Tolhurst’s character eventually resorts to volume over reasoning. But, rather than be crushed under the weight of the bass, Lattimore continues to play with sparkling emphasis, adding more flourish, and, apparently, getting her point across, perhaps, per the title, saying goodbye for now, as Tolhurst’s keyboard lines return to their bright, ethereal beginnings.
If “Arrivederci” was a dialogue, a plot’s catalytic disagreement, then the following track, “Blender in a Blender,” featuring the guitarist and composer Roy Montgomery, is a Greek chorus zooming out to describe a ravaged world in flux, filling in macro, expository details as the characters continue on below. The song swoops and builds for almost five minutes as ominous keyboards and somber strings bear witness to the landscape, eventually fading to a contemplative silence, until an epochal torrent of keys storms back in from some shadowcast mountain range. It is martial, a threatening, destructive surge of sound, but soon it too is gone. The echoing, driving style is pure Montgomery and immediately recalls, in pace and rhythm, the tense, controlled waves of guitar from his 1996 album, Temple IV, though without quite the extremity of those reeling provocations. On an album that so often and ably shows a nuanced darkness underneath beauty, “Blender in a Blender,” given Montgomery’s presence, feels like a missed opportunity to escalate towards something more visceral.
While most of Goodbye, Hotel Arkada’s 42 minutes are spent in the company of Lattimore and at least one other musician, for a two song stretch, starting with the appropriately named “Music for Applying Shimmering Eye Shadow” and the somehow even more appropriately named “Horses, Glossy on the Hill,” Lattimore is showcased alone. Both have their moments: “Music…” finds a calm, evocative fullness in the trio of twinkling harp, bright but enveloping synths, and Lattimore’s textural breath, but it’s ”Horses…” that’s the standout performance, perhaps the most theatrical piece on a very theatrical album. It starts with knocks that can be nothing but the hooves of the eponymous horses, soon joined by Lattimore’s stuttering harp, which plinks just out of step, struggling but steady, just able to keep pace with the cavalcade. The line finds its stride in a passage of bright picking and strumming that’s ukulele-like in its taut simplicity. The climax is a stream of consciousness: echos and reverb, a blossoming, articulate medley of sound that loses none of its heft or form in the rush. While Lattimore’s effects pedals are a hallmark of her work and present throughout the album, “Horses, Glossy on the Hill,” stands out on Goodbye, Hotel Arkada for the vigor and intricacy with which she applies them, and for the complete vision she’s capable of conjuring in a soliloquy.
Delightful and inventive as Lattimore is on her own, Goodbye, Hotel Arkada is still most remarkable for its collective efforts. In the opening track, “And Then He Wrapped His Wings Around Me,” the accordionist Walt McClements’ nuanced drone and Baird’s articulate, wordless vocals, like Tolhurst’s keys, seem to inspire a greater tenacity in Lattimore’s playing, glissandi grow more insistent and her riffs more oratorial. In the closing track, “Yesterday’s Parties,” too, the presence of Slowdive’s Rachel Goswell vocals and Samara Lubelski’s luminous violin create a lovely, highly reflective fog that Lattimore’s playing reflects from, vibrant and beautiful into a controlled squall at the end. A Bandcamp supporter of Lattimore’s wrote, about her work with the drone group GROWING, that the music “highlights each participant’s strengths while bringing forth something new and wondrous.” This is also an apt description of Goodbye, Hotel Arkada, an album that, without lyrics, tells its stories with many voices and in a poetry that feels tangible, even as it transforms in front of us, catching more light in its sound as it blooms.
Alex Johnson
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radiophd · 1 year
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roy montgomery -- above the canopy
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