#the bands first promotional art (never mind that half the band is missing) and it’s just ‘the Holloways want YOU to get on your knees 😔👇’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesinglesjukebox · 3 months

Text

THE LAST DINNER PARTY - "CAESAR ON A TV SCREEN"

youtube

Is this party a potluck? I can bring the croutons and parmesan and anchovy and th- oh... different Caesar. Never mind.

[4.05]

Iain Mew: Saltburn and all associated with it, mobile network adverts soundtracked by Bloc Party and Klaxons, rock bands as the most hyped new thing and launching their album with re-promoting their debut single: the UK has a big mid-'00s revival going on. In this case specifically, if likely coincidentally, it's a revival of The Hot Puppies. The Last Dinner Party's UK #22 hit "Nothing Matters" with all its theatricality and romantic determination pointing in the same direction, is at least as great as "The Girl Who Was Too Beautiful." There's no re-release edition of it to issue, though, so for new material we get "Caesar on a TV Screen," which sounds like a set of sketches for the four B-sides its CD singles would have had. [4]

Harlan Talib Ockey: Every year, there’s another Very Buzzy UK rock band. Usually shortlisted for the BBC’s Sound of… award, in recent years the title’s gone to Wet Leg, Yard Act, and now The Last Dinner Party. “Caesar on a TV Screen” is essentially a Queen song; the chorus, in particular, sounds like “Killer Queen” overlaid with “We Are the Champions.” The bombast is dialed so high that even the guitar disappears in the mix during the chorus, and there are instrumental touches that are almost inaudible, like the arpeggiated piano in the second prechorus. Meanwhile, the lyrics are crammed with redundancy. “Caesar” has a strong underlying concept, but the references to Leningrad are completely irrelevant to it. They’re never elaborated upon apart from a line about “Red Scare and how they got it right” (which is a [0], if you ask me). It also rhymes “Leningrad” with itself, hilariously, and couplets like “When I was a child / I never felt like a child” sorely needed another edit. I can’t ave this. [3]

Ian Mathers: I am actually worried people will think I am being glib or sarcastic here, so let me emphasize that I sincerely think it's great that we're at a point where the new NME-friendly UK buzz band can contain zero men and be just as fatuous, overhyped, and almost existentially disappointing as all the ones that were only men (and I am basing that on this song and "Nothing Matters," FWIW). [5]

Taylor Alatorre: Sounds pretty expensive. You'd think that with all that expense they could've sprung for more than the basic package of historical references, though. [4]

Will Adams: Turgid, self-satisfied art rock that feels way longer than 3:49. That's bad enough. Worse: having to think about Red Scare while listening to any music, regardless of quality. [3]

Alex Clifton: The really annoying thing about this song is that there's no way for it to flow. By the time the first slow verse ends, it kicks into a higher gear -- awesome, now we're getting started! But then another tempo change stymies the song, and just when you think the band might be finding a groove it slows down once more. This is several neat ideas for songs stitched together very poorly, like a quilt made of all different sizes of patchwork squares. The thing is that The Last Dinner Party thinks this sounds really cool, and it doesn't; it's sloppy and half-baked. If TLDP took themselves slightly less seriously this might've worked. They're a young band, and so they deserve some grace while they're figuring themselves out. As it stands, though, this is a bunch of people who read The Secret History and said, "oh, that's awesome! Let's do our own depraved bacchanals!" while totally missing the point that the aesthetics are there to hide everyone in that book sucks. Docked an additional point for rhyming "Leningrad" with "Leningrad." If your whole aesthetic is "we're smarter than you because we read old books," prove it by finding a creative rhyme. [3]

Katherine St. Asaph: The sewer-gutter center of a Venn diagram composed of these three sets: tuneless songs; Amanda Palmer revival songs; songs that mention Red Scare. [2]

Nortey Dowuona: The bassline from Georgie Davies does what a lot of basslines in non bass/drum driven music does -- hum along below the guitar, remaining as close to the rhythm set by the guitar and speeding up when the drums (done by Rebekah Rayner, who will hopefully join the band ASAP) snap in during the final chorus. But it does not drive the song. It is purposely hidden, unwilling to emerge until just the right time: when the vocals die down and the song rends itself apart. And even then, it leaves its blade in Abigail Morris's back. It doesn't pull back -- it leaves without so much as a trace. [6]

Hannah Jocelyn: On "Caesar on a TV Screen," Abigail Morris calls on the spirits to unsex her: “When I put on that suit/I don't have to stay mute/I can talk all the time/Cause my shoulders are wide.” Reading it literally, Morris writes as if patriarchy is biologically determined and not societally forced upon us. But I find the fetishization of the male form on this song and fellow TLDP song "Beautiful Boy" fascinating, a new kind of female gaze driven by a mix of resentment, envy, and desire. (It's the same thing I found unintentionally fascinating about the band's film equivalent Saltburn.) James Ford and Alan Moulder makes this sound so STIFF, no dick joke intended -- nobody sounds like they were on the same planet while recording, and it's the same polish that plagues "Nothing Matters." The cumulative effect is '...huh.' The death knell is the complete lack of groove, which is baffling considering Ford's work with Jessie Ware. The percussion section sounds like an Addictive Drums preset! How are you supposed to be the new Florence + The Machine when you don't have any toms?? Much like Saltburn, this thinks the mere existence of the female gaze is enough, but the rest is so prim and proper that anything interesting feels purely by coincidence. Also, the Red Scare reference is such a groaner: when Barbie did gender essentialism jokes better, you know you've got nothing to say. [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I want to respect the ambition here but sometimes ambition is dogshit -- this is high concept without having any ideas, sweeping but empty. They gesture towards grandiose art rock but in execution undercut themselves -- the song lurches from movement to movement, a queasy set of grooves that fail to leave much of an impression other than one of ill-defined size. [4]

Isabel Cole: Vampy and ambitious in a way I think I admire, but I can’t help wanting this, perhaps unfairly, to be a little messier than it is. All that roiling, secret yearning, the desperate grandiosity tap dancing along the edge of the pit of need -- I get it, but for all the bombast, something about it feels at a remove, a little too well-behaved to really make me feel the hunger. Without that, I also find myself less inclined with each listen to have patience for the various attention-grabbing vocal tics. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: What a voice: it can snarl and embody grace and shoot for theatrical grandiosity within the span of a minute. And yet, it makes me feel nothing. The instrumentation is equally miserable, ambitious but with zero finesse. I’m always up for artists piling on ideas, but the more I listen, the more it feels like an empty spectacle. [3]

Leah Isobel: Every generation gets the Marina and the Diamonds they deserve. [4]

Dorian Sinclair: "Caesar on a TV Screen" pulls off the neat trick of being both too much and too little song simultaneously. It does this by sounding like scraps of three unfinished songs stitched together, with no attention paid to whether any of them actually fills in what the others were missing. That said, even if I'm intellectually left unsatisfied, I am on a deeper level predisposed to respond well to this kind of arch, self-consciously literary baroque rock. I was a Rasputina fan in high school, for god's sake. This shit is like catnip to me. [6]

Rachel Saywitz: One time in my undergraduate classical music history course, my professor played a clip of Handel’s Giulio Cesare, where mezzo-soprano Sarah Connolly was playing the title role (because Caesar would normally have been played by a castrati in the 1700s). I was so in awe of this woman playing a domineering, brutish man, even as the music itself was light, airy, and elegant; I rushed to find the full opera afterwards to watch. “Caesar on a TV Screen” gives off a similar energy -- Abigail Morris sings as if she is the planet’s center, her melodies leaps into dark, blinding caverns but still manages to land lightly, feet first. The Last Dinner Party have made their splashy debut off of this dramatized glamour, which have lended themselves to a slightly polarized response. And “Caesar” is, no doubt, pretentious: it sweeps from 6/8 to 4/4 time like a corrupt, self-serving royal; its lyrics are at times bizarre enough to run the risk of performing empty metaphors (see the verse about Leningrad and Red Scare). But I can’t swear it all off, not when I hear, “I’ll be Caesar on a TV on a screen,” Morris’ voice layered with reckless abandon, and sharp horns and piano gassing up her cocky self-affirmations. That dream of adding a truly masculine edge to my femininity feels so unattainable to me, which is why I gravitate towards art like this. It’s a bullish want, to be a king. But just the want is enough for me, at least for now. [7]

Alfred Soto: Histrionics abhor a vacuum. [3]

Michael Hong: Every section is overacted in completely unpleasant fashion: the swooping balladry of its first verse is so wretchedly overdramatic, the second verse's pomp and circumstance grows more troublesome with each line, and the chipper turn of the pre-chorus sounds hollow. This feels like a middle-school performance of a poorly-written monologue with the kind of cumbersome music to go along with it. [1]

Jibril Yassin: We're due one middling group of wide-eyed, Brit art-pop worshippers every generation, I suppose. [5]

Tara Hillegeist: Literate and snarling, singer Abigail Morris siouxsies her way through "Caesar"'s archly ironic, post-everything, ABBA-like melodic progressions like a ghost of Pipettes past with the promise of a manifesto to match hiding... somewhere, surely, behind the next curtain, yes? But, regrettably, we are no longer in the era where a manifesto is to anyone's interest, even when they're selling insincerity this acidic and pastiched; a manifesto would go a good ways towards affirming that, if nothing else, they take their nothings seriously. And that is, at the end of the day, the problem; it's fairly obvious the joke is on our song's narrator from the start, all tortured comparisons to much-besieged historical cities aside, because nobody is stupid enough to compare themselves to Caesar, even at his height, without also realizing they're inviting a reciprocal fall. All this talk of becoming iconically beloved is an obvious counterpoint to the absent truth that our narrator is ironically unloved, particularly by themselves. The point is for the fall, even if only as an allusive presence, to make us feel something; failing that, at least make it hit hard enough the landing becomes a good joke. This, though? This feels like nothing so much as the Saltburn to a better song's Brideshead Revisited, and like that movie, it matters very little that this, too, is in on the joke of the original -- if it only half-completes the necessary punchline of the follow-through on its own, has it really done enough to make it worth my time finishing the sentence for it, just for a laugh? Still, every generation gets the New Young Pony Club its shoe collection deserves, and... well. You know what they say, when the shoe fits. [6]

Jacob Satter: Henry, the dadgum theater kids are in the recording studio again. Quick, get the flit! [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#the last dinner party #music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

1 note · View note

vintagemiserie · 1 year

Text

John woke with an acute feeling that there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. He was damn near hyperventilating within just seconds, gently extracting himself from Daniel’s unconscious grasp just so he could breathe. It still wasn’t enough, not really, so he pulled himself out of bed and stood up, maybe hoping to just let his lungs open up a little. He opened the window, just a crack. It was raining outside. He crouched and let his head lean against the windowsill, hoping his heart would stop racing.

Back home he would have been able to lean over his boyfriend and push the window open, rather than get out of bed entirely. It was an annoying quirk of the apartment, that and the lack of any lawn. He was just waiting for the band to get a little bigger, then he and Daniel could break their lease and buy one of the houses they’d been looking at.

God, he was so homesick. It was pathetic. They had only been in the apartment for a couple months, only a 10 minute drive from home, yet he was more homesick than he was when couchsurfing after gigs on the other side of the country.

Movement caught the corner of John’s eye, making him sit up. It was just Daniel, of course it was. Didn’t change the prey nerves that dictated John’s subconsciousness.

“Hey,” Daniel murmured. With his eyes not yet adjusted to the early morning darkness, he groped the nightstand until finding his glasses. “Why are…” he couldn’t find the words for the rest of the question.

“Needed fresh air,” John said. Say it felt like a gasp, but it really wasn’t at all. What a fucking nutcase, he thought to himself. “Mm, when we get a house we need a backyard—I miss grass.”

“Okay,” Daniel said through a yawn. He didn’t sound awake enough to have really understood what John meant, but that was okay.

Daniel had already sat up a bit, to get his glasses and inspect John, but apparently it wasn’t enough. He pushed the covers off of him and stood. John, heart and breathing starting to return to normal, stood in return. They looked at each other for a few moments, silent, awkward, exhausted.

“Hey, we haven’t really, y’know… how’ve you been doing since you dropped out?” Daniel asked. “I know you have the—the thing next week, but I still…”

“Yeah,” John said. The thing was an actual fucking therapy appointment, the first one in years, one that he probably should have set up a year or two ago. The band was doing well enough that he didn’t need an art degree, not if the label kept promoting them, but when he had a semester of C’s and D’s the year prior, before knowing whether or not a degree would still be worthwhile, he should have given himself an intervention and gone to therapy. Better late than never. “It’s like half of me is relieved, and the other half of me thinks I’ve destroyed my life, right? It’s always so irrational, but it’s so hard not to listen to,” he explained.

Daniel nodded. He prepared himself for a usual, poorly-worded anecdote where Daniel empathized via his social struggles, but it didn’t come. “So, so you’re doing okay?” He moved just barely and his eyes caught a dim reflection of a streetlamp outside. His eyes were so big, so pretty. They made John want to weep.

“You know you can just ask if I’m feeling suicidal. And I’m not,” he half-lied. It was always there, always in the back of his mind, always an escape option. But that wasn’t the answer that would make sense to Daniel, it would just confuse and upset him. It was confusing and upsetting for John, really, and that was why he finally bit the bullet and booked an appointment with a professional after, what was it, four years of putting it off.

“Yeah—” Daniel said. He turned his head and the dots of light in his eyes disappeared, darkening everything. It made John want to weep more. “—but I don’t want to say, like, ‘how much do you wanna kill yourself, one to ten?’, right? I’d sound like a bitch.”

John laughed. “But you’re my bitch, so it’s okay,” he said.

Though Daniel’s statement was clearly meant to be serious, it seemed to dawn on him how funny it sounded in retrospect. He had always been such a focused person that his own comedic chops usually went over his head. “Yeah right, big guy,” he said through a giggle. “I’m fucken cold, and you’re the bitch of this relationship, so you need to do something about that problem.”

The suggestion was pretty clear, and John had finally relaxed from whatever made him wake up in the first place. Conceding the argument of exactly who called the shots, John wrapped his arms around Daniel’s waist and pulled him a step backward, into bed.

#my writing #angry young men #drabble #i am so brainrotted i am thinking about them i cant do anything else #this one takes place in like 1990 btw #also some cw for mental illness discussion

0 notes

asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ comfortable ❞ l.mk

synopsis → “oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

word count → 3k

a/n → instead of admitting to the fact that this has been in my drafts since october what if i just said i was watching superm interviews and got inspired.. would anyone believe that??? anyway superm on the ellen show was a fever dream lol

your leg bounces nervously as your makeup artist touches up your look and you stare at the tv screen in anticipation. you were finally making your television debut. you knew you were blessed for the wonderful opportunity, especially for how new you were to the music industry.

you had started like nearly every other artist; posting covers on youtube. these were well received and gained a good amount of views and likes but your career really took off when you began creating original content. every time you would release a single, it would make it on the trending page thanks to your growing fanbase and exposure to the general public, who seemed to like you. soon enough, requests to interview you whether it be on radio, tv, or magazines were high and, thanks to your managers, you found yourself in los angeles, backstage in a studio, waiting for the ellen degeneres to introduce you to her live audience and thousands of viewers at home.

“don’t move so much, miss l/n,” the woman trying to apply your highlighter comments. “you’re smudging your makeup.”

you force yourself to sit still as you apologize. “sorry. pre-show jitters.”

the woman smiles, emphatically. “i understand, sweetheart. i would be nervous too.”

you’re quiet for a moment, debating if you should continue conversing with her. “can i be honest?”

she hums as she dabs a beauty blender into your cheek. “go ahead.”

“i am so nervous that i’ll mess up or say something stupid. the only thing close to an interview i’ve ever done was a q&a on my youtube channel. and at least i could edit stuff out then.” you huff. “if i make some kind of mistake on my tv debut, my career will be over before it even started.”

“well, think of it this way,” she says. “you went from a moderately popular youtube channel to the ellen show. that doesn’t happen for no reason. there are people out there who really admire you.”

you chuckle in disbelief. “it’s crazy to think about people actually wanting to see me. i still can't believe it.”

she giggles, softly. “they know there's something worth seeing.” at seeing your small smile, almost as if you were barely realizing your own star status, she laughs. “you seriously gotta wake up, girl. you’re famous!”

you smile at her, finding humor in her words. “thanks for the wake up call.”

you both direct your attention to the tv placed backstage that broadcasted what was happening on stage. you listen in to ellen’s monologue as she tells jokes and addresses current topics. before long, there’s a knock on the doorframe. you half expect a staff member to let you know that you’ll be on soon but instead you hear a quiet, “hello?”

you and your makeup artist both turn to the boy standing in the doorway. he's wearing a black jacket paired with dark, ripped jeans held up by a belt. he goes to bow, then remembers that korean etiquette does not apply and decides to wave as a greeting instead. you reciprocate the gesture. he stands with only one foot inside the room, almost as if he’s too polite to enter without being given the okay.

“did they send you to get your makeup done?” the woman who had done yours says.

he nods. “they said something about concealer and bb cream, i think?”

she smiles. “yeah, it’s basic stuff. come on in. what’s your name, dear?”

“oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

“well, mark lee, i’m lily. i’ll be doing your makeup, making sure you look pretty for the cameras.” she motions to you. “i'm just about done here so i’ll be right with you.”

“okay, thank you.” he shuffles in, his eyes glued to you and you hold his stare. he nods, a wordless greeting as he settles in next to you. in return, you throw up a peace sign and he smiles at your casual behavior.

“you know what? somebody used all the setting spray. i’ll be right back, i’m just going to steal some from my co-workers.” with that, lily darts out of the room.

it’s pure silence between the two of you until you spark conversation. “i didn't get to introduce myself but i'm y/n.”

“i know,” he responds, quickly. “i'm kind of a fan, actually. i mean, it’s practically impossible to not be. you’re all over the place. especially with the new single you dropped... which is a bop, by the way.”

you smile at his simply-worded praise. it was a nice switch up from the professional reviews you received from critics. “that’s so cute. i’m honored.” you miss the way mark’s ears turn slightly pink at your words. “but enough about me, what do you do, mark?”

“oh, me? i’m in the k-pop scene.”

you hum. “that’s a good genre to be in. which group?”

“right now i’m promoting with superm, it’s kind of like a side project. but originally, i’m in a band called nct.”

you lean forward at hearing the familiar name. “nct? as in, nct 127?”

mark’s eyes light up. “yeah! you know us?”

you nod, enthusiastically. “oh my god, yes! you collabed with ava, right?”

“we sure did. are you guys close?”

“i help her write lyrics sometimes.” you lower your voice down to a whisper for dramatic effect. “i wrote the chorus to ‘sweet but psycho’.”

the way mark’s jaw drops is almost comedic. “no way! that song got her famous, dude!” his lips curve into a playful smirk. “just because of that i’m gonna have to get you in the studio.”

you return the mischievous look. “is that a promise?”

“i’m back!” lily announces, giving mark no time to respond. she gives no warning as she spritzs you with the bottle she had gone to retrieve.

you cough, choking on the mist. “no heads up?”

“sorry, dear. you’re on in two minutes, no time to waste.”

you feel a chill go up your spine. it was finally time.

mark nudges your arm. “you okay?”

“a little nervous.” that proves to be the biggest understatement of all time because in reality your heart is doing somersaults.

“hey.” you stare at him, his brown eyes boring into you. “you’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about. you got this!”

you smile at his words of encouragement. he cared about you and you find that your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

“i'll be here to cheer you on while you’re out there and i’ll be back when you’re done to tell you how amazing you did, okay?”

you nod.

“now get out there!”

“well, we have a great show for y’all today,” ellen says, clasping her hands together, having just finished her monologue. “i mean, it’s always great but the exciting thing is we have two musical guests today.”

the audience that cheered wildly is shown on screen. you almost forget about the knot in your stomach when you see some people in the crowd wearing shirts with the cover art and quoted lyrics of your last single.

“i see you guys are ready so, without further ado... let’s get started. our first guest is a soloist who has made quite a big name for herself in such a short period of time. she currently has three singles on the billboard charts, her most recent music video is number one trending on youtube, and she has a new ep coming out soon. here for her television debut, please welcome y/n l/n.”

you walk out from behind the stage, a huge smile on your face. the crowd screams and you wave to them until your hands become too occupied hugging the hostess who greets you with open arms and a proud smile. once the hype dies down and your entrance music fades out, you take a seat, opposite of ellen.

“how have you been y/n?”

“amazing,” you respond, letting your hands fall neatly in your lap.

“and why is that?”

you sigh, wistfully. “everything has been going so well for me lately. i mean, i feel like all these doors are opening up for me all of a sudden. i think i finally made it.”

“you’re just barely realizing that?” ellen exclaims.

you laugh, along with the audience. “kind of, yeah. it just all happened so fast.”

“is there an experience that comes to mind where you finally realized how famous you are?”

you try to think for a few moments before your eyes light up. “okay so, i was at a mcdonald’s like, last month and i went through the drive thru and ordered some nuggets and fries. so, i pull up to the window to pay and it’s around 2 a.m. so the cashier guy is super out of it, like he’s not even paying attention to me. finally, he goes to grab my card and he gets a good look at me and just freezes. like, full on shuts down. so i ask him if he’s okay and he nods so i try to hand him my card again but he goes, ‘no, you’re famous, you don’t have to pay’. and in that moment i just knew.”

“hold on, pause,” ellen announces, dramatically. “you’re telling me that you have been nominated as artist of the year, gained over ten million followers on social media and made your national television debut but the thing that really made you say ‘wow, i’m famous’ was a couple of chicken nuggets?”

“ellen, c’mon,” you begin, seriously. “it was a twenty piece.”

“oh, well, that changes everything,” she says, playing along with you, as the audience erupts into laughter.

the rest of the interview goes smoothly, running on jokes and sarcastic energy. you discuss your young age (thus resulting in some of your baby pictures finally being revealed to the world), millennial culture (the crowd went wild when you explained terms such as netflix and chill to ellen who claimed she didn’t understand yet her sly smirk said otherwise) and your upcoming ep (that you would be giving a sneak peek of later on in the show).

you continue chatting once the commercial break is announced and ellen showers you with praises, commenting how young talent never failed to amaze her, although it did make her feel old. you get to thank the hostess and tell her how much you appreciated her sweet words and the opportunity she had given you before the crew is dragging you backstage so you can prep for your upcoming performance.

you’re greeted by a “that was awesome!” and a high five one you get backstage.

you flash mark a full smile. “couldn’t have done it without my hype man.”

just then lily walks in to touch up your makeup.

“and my hype woman!”

she just rolls her eyes and chuckles as she reapplies gloss to your lips.

“seriously though, y/n. why did you have to be so perfect? the bar is all the way up here now.” to emphasize his point, mark raises his arm as high as it will go.

“hey, i only tried hard because you’re up next. you’re a hard act to beat, mark lee. i mean, you’re charismatic, charming, witty; basically every talk show host’s dream.”

he scoffs yet you see how he avoids your gaze, your compliments obviously flattering him to the extreme.

a staff member walks by, cutting your conversation short. “y/n, you’re back on in one. superm is on right after.”

you and mark turn back to each other, speaking the same two words at the same time.

“good luck.”

ellen introduces you again, only this time you hold a guitar and stand in front of a microphone once you’re back on the stage. you perform a never before heard song but judging by the roaring applause and standing ovation you receive by the end of it, it’s another successful hit.

you bask in the amazing response and then you’re ushered backstage for the last time. you catch sight of the staff placing more seats on the stage as you exit and you smile eagerly, knowing exactly what’s to come. you search the hallways for your new friend, hoping you can catch him before the show goes back on air. you’re almost about to give up when you hear your name being called.

you lock eyes with mark who stands a couple feet away, barely hidden from the audience’s view. even from where you stand you can tell he has a nervous smile on his face. you jog towards him and to your surprise, he envelops your figure without a second thought. in return, you tentatively wrap your arms around him.

“great job,” he murmurs, breath fanning your ear. “i really did cheer you on.”

“i’ll make sure to do the same.” you hesitantly pull away from his embrace, holding him at an arm’s length away. “go get ‘em.”

he gives you a determined nod and you watch him rush on stage, the audience’s wild cheering increasing. their energy didn’t fade once throughout the interview and just as you had suspected, mark was doing wonderfully. he clearly thrived in interviews; his awkward, boyish nature enchanting everyone in the studio, yourself included.

ellen crosses her legs and clears her throat. “so, i have to ask you something, you know, for the fans.”

the group leaned forward in anticipation, awaiting her next words.

“are any of you dating?”

the crowd released noises of amusement at hearing the very personal question. you can’t help but feel intrigued although you knew ellen has always been quite the invasive person. you watched as the seven boys looked around at each other, unsure what to say but before their silence can become suspiciously long, mark ends up taking the question.

“why are you always so curious about this, though?” he blurts.

the audience absolutely eats up his response, cheering at his bluntness. even you find it humorous, shoulders shaking with a chuckle. that’s definitely gonna become a meme, you think.

“it’s my job!” counters ellen. “why are you so defensive?”

the crowd is very responsive to ellen’s rebuttal, ‘ooh’ing in amusement.

mark’s silence only pushes the hostess to continue teasing him.

“does it maybe have anything to do with y/n?”

your smile drops. had she seen you two? you’re not sure why you feel so exposed; after all, you had just been talking.

ellen’s lips adorn a sly smile at mark’s stunned reaction. “you seemed to be getting very comfortable with each other backstage.”

the black haired male stumbles over his words before he gets a semi-coherent sentence out. “we just, um—we just met.”

“oh really? you two looked like you had known each other forever.”

mark chuckles breathlessly, eyes glued to his lap, obviously at a loss for words. ellen stares at him expectantly so he mutters, “i like making friends.”

ellen, the audience, and even some of the band members laugh at his response.

“well, i’m sure there’s a lot of fans out there that wish they were your ‘friend’.” her tone makes it clear she doesn’t buy his excuse but she prods him no further, instead turning to stare into the main camera. “when we get back superm will be performing their title track ‘jopping’. during the commercial break, please feel free to place your bets as to how long mark and y/n will remain ‘friends’.”

the camera pans to mark for a couple seconds; his ears are bright red and his cheeks are dusted light pink, his makeup doing nothing to help hide the blush. his eyes dart around, anxiously and then they cut to commercials.

you shake your head, smiling at the entire situation and just how big of a dork mark was.

you attentively watch superm’s two performances, eyes mostly glued to a certain rapper. you sit patiently in the makeup room, waiting for mark to return backstage so you can congratulate him but he never appears. you try to conceal your disappointment, even when lily enters the room, smiling brightly.

“well, the show’s over, doll.” she removes her makeup stained apron and glances at you as she places it on a nearby rack. “hey, why the long face?”

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, no longer bothering to hide your pout now that your frustration had been made known.

“you did great, if that’s what you’re worried about. just ask mark.”

“he left,” you mumble. “i thought i’d be able to catch him before he left and we could… i don’t know, talk a bit more? i just really—” you trail off.

“like him?” lily suggests, too loudly for your liking.

your head snaps towards her, eyes wide, only confirming your feelings.

“don’t worry, dear, you can say it. i won’t tell ellen,” she jokes.

you sigh and slump down in your seat. “yeah. i like him.”

“well, then, i have good news for you.”

you half-heartedly hum, allowing her to continue.

she waves a piece of crumpled paper in front of your face. you grab it from her, staring at it curiously.

“what’s this?”

she nods her head at it, encouraging you to find out for yourself. “open it and see.”

you obey, unfolding the tiny item. your eyes struggle to read the words inside but if you squint, they become clearer.

please call, me i would love to become closer ‘friends’.

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

it’s mark btw :)

you can’t contain your smile at the cute little note.

“he’s adorable,” you say, mostly to yourself but lily audibly agrees.

“he ran into me as he was leaving and begged me to deliver that message to you. which reminds me, i’m supposed to let you know that he wishes he could have stuck around but his schedule is ‘crazy tight’ so he had to ‘dip’. his words not mine.”

you nod, grin widening. “thanks, lily.”

“my pleasure. nothing like young love.”

you give her a glare although it’s all but threatening.

she folds her arms, teasingly. “so, are you going to give him a call or what?”

you’re sure she sees the phone in your hand and the way your fingers press the numbers on the keypad, excitedly but nevertheless, you decide to answer.

“i’d be crazy not to.”

345 notes · View notes

kingstylesdaily · 4 years

Text

Harry Styles’ “Adore You” Is Everything a Music Video Should Be (Including Underappreciated by The VMAs)

youtube

KSD NOTE: there is a mention of suicide in regards to the beginning of Adore You.

On November 18, 2019, a website promoting a mysterious place called Eroda (“No Land Quite Like It”) arrived on the internet. Two days later, the official Twitter account for this fictional frown-shaped island began teasing local seaside attractions. You may have missed it, depending on which corners of the internet you choose to lurk, but not if you were a Harry Styles fan, a group that went into pure overdrive trying to figure out what it all meant.

I, for one, missed it at the time. I was unaware this account was cryptically quote tweeting fans as they tried to piece together what was happening, what it meant, and what it could be connected to (Greek Mythology and Lost were a couple of theories posed in comments, Twitter threads, and Reddit). Meanwhile, the Columbia Records marketing department had been hard at work for months, devising this specific and highly-detailed campaign around the music video for Styles’ second single, “Adore You” from his second solo album, Fine Line, ever since he shot the video in Scotland in August 2019 (Eroda = Adore backwards — clever!).

But it was all leading up to the morning of Friday, December 6 when the video was released, one week before the full-length album arrived. Up until that point, I had never seen an entire Harry Styles music video, but what happened next was inevitable. Somehow, as a self-proclaimed boy band scholar, I had never paid much attention to One Direction. I kept a distant eye on Styles since they disbanded, intrigued by the decisions he was making in his solo career. But I hadn’t yet realized I’d been in the ring all throughout the fall of 2019, fighting to resist the inevitable fascination that awaited. First came the jab of Rob Sheffield’s Rolling Stone profile, followed by the cross of “Lights Up”, a song that cracked my Top 20 most listened to songs of the year despite being released just two months before Spotify so thoughtfully compiled that personalized playlist. Then there was the hook of his SNL hosting stint in November (and bless you Bowen Yang for that Sara Lee sketch), which then leads us to the “Adore You” video, the uppercut and ultimate TKO. I surrendered in what felt like a near instant. I was now a Harry Styles fan. (If we’re following this analogy, I sat up to spit out some blood after seeing that cover of “Juice” before my head quickly hit the mat again with a loud thud).

Maybe it’s not quite remarkable that I took time out of a Friday morning to watch a music video, but that I sat at my desk, in an office, with other people around (back when we did those kinds of things) and proceeded to wipe away a few tiny tears from under my eyes by the end of it, was an experience I had not been through… maybe ever? In a world of lyric videos and TikToks, actual, thoughtful, impactful music videos with a full (and sweet!) story are about as rare as a glowing and growing fish these days.

Ultimately, “Adore You” does everything a music video should do. In nearly eight minutes, this video uses excellent visual effects in a cool and interesting way, tells a compelling and heartfelt story, is anchored by an irresistible leading man and an adorable sidekick, is backed up by the catchiest song you could ever dream of, and culminates with a touching and hopeful ending. It’s a treat for the eyes and the ears and the soul. It’s innovative and the kind of thing that begs you to watch it more than once to catch all the details (and yes, I do tear up every time).

So one would think that an award show with the specific purpose of celebrating this type of creativity would be extra sure to nominate such a charming and effective clip, but alas, “Adore You” was overlooked in the MTV Video Music Awards main categories this year. Of course, some could argue that that fact only adds to the video’s credibility but I’ll do my best to not be that petty as I’m still rooting for it to win in the three technical categories where it picked up nominations: Best Visual Effects by Mathematic, Best Art Direction by Laura Ellis Cricks, and Best Direction by Dave Meyers, who remains one of the most inventive and influential directors of all time and whose videos with artists such as Missy Elliot, Pink, and Kendrick Lamar have been racking up nominations for nearly 20 years now. He also saw four other videos he directed get recognized this year: Normani’s “Motivation” (Best Chorography), Travis Scott’s “Highest in the Room” (Best Hop Hop and Best Visual Effects), Anderson .Paak’s “Lockdown” (Video For Good), and Camila Cabello feat. DaBaby’s “My Oh My” (Best Cinematography).

But I reached out to Meyers to specifically ask about the intricate details of “Adore You” and how it all came to be; how he captured such a vibe with the overcast and dreary weather, mixed so wonderfully with the charming oddities of the people that make up this world of Eroda. In addition to directing the video, he also co-wrote the story with Chris Shafer and said, “It’s the first idea that popped to mind after the first listen to the song, and the first idea I pitched to Harry. It was a story that underscored my understanding of what Harry stood for and felt it was necessary to tell it as a narrative to convey his optimism.”

The extended version of the video starts with a two-and-a-half-minute introduction to the world of Eroda, narrated by Rosalia. This includes the “peculiar” people and their professions on the island, meeting The Boy (Styles) and his glowing smile that most people try to avoid, and the quirky superstitions these people continue to live by. “It all served a purpose,” Meyers said of the details. “The superstitions were a set up for how society generally reacts to different things. They fear change or oddity, even if it’s what’s best for them.”

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing phased them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

However, it’s likely that Mother Nature is also a Styles fan, as Meyers recalled, “I seem to remember going up on the hill for Harry’s picnic with the fish and being worried that it was so gloomy. By the time we came to shoot, the sun came out. And then the sun went away as soon as the scene was over. Similarly, we had the worst storm when Harry was contemplating suicide at the start. Pouring rain, drenching him. So I guess in that sense it was fun watching how Scotland provided a backdrop for the emotions we were after.”

And hey, at least they had the weather on their side to add to the mood while shooting the video, as one of their main characters, well, didn’t exist. “It was very odd shooting with no fish,” Meyers admitted. “But was quite rewarding later seeing it dropped in and making empathic sense to the story we were after.”

Of course, the main character they did have on hand is an awfully useful and appealing one at that. Fans became enamored with the moment Styles uses the back of his hand to check the temperature of a coffee pot before dumping the fish inside the water so it could stay alive. I asked Meyers about this particular moment and he said, “The problem we had was apparent when Harry ran in and threw the fish in the pot. We all sorta felt — well, what if it was hot? So I believe Harry improvised that as a solution and we felt it was perfect for the character’s sensitivity and consideration for this poor fish.” And that’s not the only nice thing he does for his fish friend — he also serves him a tiny taco! “The taco was a whimsical way to express friendship between Harry and the fish,” Meyers offered. It looked pretty tasty, too.

The entire video serves as a showcase for what Styles does best and what makes him such a unique artist: his music, his acting, and his charisma, which Meyers knew would offer him a lot to work with. “Harry is a leading man. I felt that from my first meeting and wanted to play with his wonderful range of emotions. So finding a story with a real character arc was part of my focus in building this world.” Meyers described working on “Adore You” as an “all-around memorable shoot: awesome location, lovely Harry, compelling story, great effects, and… it worked.”

It did. And it was a risk: a video this complex and detailed (and one has to assume, costly), attached to a marketing campaign that proved to be even more involved, still came with no guarantee that the fans wouldn’t shrug it off. But as Manos Xanthogeorgis, SVP of Digital Marketing & Media at Columbia Records told Billboard last year, “When you have a video and a piece of art at such a level, it’s an incredible challenge for the rest of the team to build a campaign at that same level of artistry and creativity.” Oh, and that was only step one, as the marketing team engaged in “real-time marketing” with fans online, ensuring they would continue to remain engaged by dropping clues and clips in the lead-up to the video premiere and subsequently the album. “This whole campaign was around mystery and sometimes mystery is more powerful than knowledge,” Xanthogeorgis said. The Twitter handle has remained active throughout 2020, used as a continual marketing tool for Styles’ next videos including the Meyers-directed “Falling” and this summer’s hit, “Watermelon Sugar.”

With that kind of fan engagement, “Adore You” seemed like a no-brainer for the fan-voted categories of the VMAs this year, as they surely would’ve turned out to vote just as feverishly for this video as they did when searching for clues (about a made-up island, at that!). But hey, maybe MTV was just not interested in massive fan engagement this year — after all, it’s not like everything Styles does, including growing freakin’ facial hair, has the internet in a tizzy for weeks. Ultimately, as the impact of music videos (and certainly the ceremony celebrating them) continues to lose relevance, the disregard of this specific project simply feels like a missed opportunity to acknowledge a rare achievement in the art form.

While Meyers was sure to describe his inclusion in the VMA nominations this year as “lovely and flattering” (and he better have a moonperson in his possession this time next week, MTV!) it’s still puzzling why “Adore You” wouldn’t be included in the big categories, considering Styles is squarely within their demo, at the very least. That “Adore You” is also a technical and storytelling masterpiece, as well as a full moment that was used as inspiration both for the experience online and in-person at the Fine Line Spotify listening party last December, that also comes packed with one of the most enthusiastic groups of fans around, well, that should have had the entire network drooling.

Of course, some of this can simply be chalked up to a perfect storm. As far as his singles go, “Lights Up” was a nice appetizer, but “Adore You” remains the delicious entree (you already know what’s for dessert). “Adore You” is a perfect pop record if I’ve ever heard one (and I have) and deserved a special video. A Chris Isaak “Wicked Game” sexy vibe wasn’t going to work here. The song tells the story of such passionate, pure, and heartachingly naive and innocent love that it almost had to be directed toward a non-human being. Instead, Styles chose to inject those same carefree, sweaty, sticky, delicious, whimsical beach vibes into the “Watermelon Sugar” clip, which was the right choice, and not just for the summertime season (MTV has since added the Song of Summer category to the VMAs and included “Watermelon Sugar”).

But it’s “Adore You” that has melodies that bring a smile to the faces of babies, get your toes tapping even when you hear it in the dentist’s chair, and likely has my neighbors rolling their eyes when I sing along to it in the shower. The song is so simple it’s deep, a theme reflected in the video, as is the central reminder to help and care for others, a thoroughly 2020 message.

However, not all is lost. Both “Adore You” and “Watermelon Sugar” continue to rack up major spins at radio with the latter hitting number one on the Billboard charts earlier this month. Grammy voting kicks off at the end of September and Academy members should take note. Not only is Fine Line more than worthy of being acknowledged, but having Styles on hand to potentially collect trophies and perform is in your best interest when it comes to viewers and online chatter. Do not wait to take him seriously. This is the album, this is the time. Prove that you aren’t a bunch of stodgy old white men who think he’s just for teen (and um, thirty-something) girls, but that you understand the music he enjoys, is inspired by, and subsequently makes, is the same rock music you appreciate as well. An artist like Styles can be both of those things at the same time, and really, the best of both worlds. Give the album a listen, and then one more to let it all sink in. If you have not yet succumbed to the force that is Harry Styles fandom, I truly can’t recommend it enough — and please know that it will get you eventually.

Source: Decider.com

#kingstylesdaily #Harry Styles #hs: news #hs: adore you #August 2020 #Decider

114 notes · View notes

hlupdate · 4 years

Link

I, for one, missed it at the time. I was unaware this account was cryptically quote tweeting fans as they tried to piece together what was happening, what it meant, and what it could be connected to (Greek Mythology and Lostwere a couple of theories posed in comments, Twitter threads, and Reddit). Meanwhile, the Columbia Records marketing department had been hard at work for months, devising this specific and highly-detailed campaign around the music video for Styles’ second single, “Adore You” from his second solo album, Fine Line, ever since he shot the video in Scotland in August 2019 (Eroda = Adore backwards — clever!).

But it was all leading up to the morning of Friday, December 6 when the video was released, one week before the full-length album arrived. Up until that point, I had never seen an entire Harry Styles music video, but what happened next was inevitable. Somehow, as a self-proclaimed boy band scholar, I had never paid much attention to One Direction. I kept a distant eye on Styles since they disbanded, intrigued by the decisions he was making in his solo career. But I hadn’t yet realized I’d been in the ring all throughout the fall of 2019, fighting to resist the inevitable fascination that awaited. First came the jab of Rob Sheffield’s Rolling Stoneprofile, followed by the cross of “Lights Up”, a song that cracked my Top 20 most listened to songs of the year despite being released just two months before Spotify so thoughtfully compiled that personalized playlist. Then there was the hook of his SNL hosting stint in November (and bless you Bowen Yang for that Sara Lee sketch), which then leads us to the “Adore You” video, the uppercut and ultimate TKO. I surrendered in what felt like a near instant. I was now a Harry Styles fan. (If we’re following this analogy, I sat up to spit out some blood after seeing that cover of “Juice” before my head quickly hit the mat again with a loud thud).

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing fazed them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

#harry styles #articles #270820 #tw suicide mention

112 notes · View notes

stylesnews · 4 years

Link

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing fazed them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

#harry styles #aug20 #adore you #decider #suicide tw

64 notes · View notes

dailytomlinson · 4 years

Link

“I probably shouldn’t be talking about this but f*** it,” he tells me now. “My point is, I clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind, you know? And the situation definitely got out of hand and people were goading me. It wasn’t my finest hour but it was a difficult time. I was already on edge and, in that headspace, it got the better of me.”

By “that headspace”, Tomlinson means that he was grieving. The airport incident took place a few months after his mother Johannah’s death from leukaemia at 43. (In March last year, his 18-year-old sister, Félicité, died from an accidental overdose. Quite reasonably, I’ve been asked not to bring this up.) Tomlinson, who is now 28, says his experiences of grief in the public eye have been “really tough. There have been mixed emotions. I’ve hated the fact that everyone’s talking about it, but that’s the way it is. I didn’t like the idea of people feeling sorry for me. But I’ve also felt the support from fans and people reaching out on social media or whatever… and I do feel I’ve got this ability to see the glass as half full. Because what else am I going to f***ing do?”

I meet Tomlinson in an upstairs room of a pub in a residential corner of London’s Notting Hill. He is dressed in jeans, a red tracksuit top and trainers. The only visible evidence of his previous life in One Direction, the biggest boyband in pop history, is his hair, which is artfully swept sideways as if he’s standing in a wind tunnel. An old hand at winning over interviewers, he greets me with a hug before sitting down, leaning back and putting his feet up.

Tomlinson is on the promotional trail for his debut album, Walls, which has been four years on the making. It includes “Two of Us”, a ballad which lays bare Tomlinson’s loss (“You’ll never know how much I miss you/ The day that they took you, I wish it was me instead”). In a change of mood, it also contains the Britpop-flavoured “Kill My Mind”, a throwback to his mid-teens and the indie night he’d go to with his friends in his native Doncaster.

Tomlinson grew up listening to Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, though right now he can’t get enough of Catfish and the Bottlemen: “I like anything with big guitars and a big chorus.” He reckons “Kill My Mind” will struggle to get on the radio but he doesn’t care since, musically, “I’ve often been swimming against the tide.”

He puts the album’s long gestation down to creative insecurity. “A good two years [was spent] treading water and trying to work out exactly what my sound was, and what I was capable of.” Clearly, One Direction, who sold 50 million albums, are a tough act to follow, though Tomlinson has also had to contend with his former colleagues putting out solo work before him (Harry Styles is already on his second LP, while Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne have all released debuts). But he rejects the suggestion that they are all in competition, remarking, “I don’t like to look at it that way.”

I ask if he and his ex-bandmates have a WhatsApp group. They don’t, he replies, “and we should, but we’ve never got around to it”. But he says they are frequently in touch, which must be something people ask a lot since, entirely unbidden, he gives me a breakdown of their recent activities. Let the record show that he spoke to Liam two days ago; he and Niall exchanged texts a fortnight ago; and Harry sent him a congratulatory message when he released his last single. There is no mention of Zayn.

Tomlinson says the face he presents to the public and journalists these days is fully unfiltered, a change from his One Direction days when he had to be careful not to cause inadvertent upset within the band or with fans. “No one was saying ‘Don’t do that’, but there was the [pressure] of being role models. So it took a second to understand that [as a solo artist] I could get away with completely being myself, even though I can sometimes be a bit of a dickhead.”

In fact, there are two Tomlinsons that emerge throughout our chat. There’s boyband Louis, full of sweet but bland blather about self-expression, his gratitude to fans, and the luck that he’s enjoyed as an artist. But another version of him frequently comes through who is funny, sweary and thoughtful about his decade in the limelight.

Tomlinson has had four years to digest his time in One Direction which I note, from the outside, looked a bit like being held hostage. But even with the fan fervour, the police escorts and the nonstop media glare, he says he wouldn’t change anything. “We were always in control of our destiny,” he explains. “We rose to fame pretty quick and, because of that, we had some power and some say within the record label and with management.” The sheer pace and drama of their day-to-day existence was, he says, “like a drug. It’s that feeling of heightened emotion and every day being manically busy, and the hysteria. Although you might complain about it, none of us said, ‘No we don’t wanna do that.’ We were just in it. We were f***ing loving it.”

Still, he says, the initial 18 months were hard as he struggled to see his value within the band. “I would wonder, ‘What difference would it make if I was there or if I wasn’t?’ Under the spotlight that was difficult, but that’s what gave me the fire in the belly to get right into it.” It was through songwriting that he found his place and his confidence – he has writing credits on 37 One Direction songs, more than anyone else in the band. “That’s something I’m really f***ing proud of,” he says. “Now I can say I made a difference.”

The end of One Direction was a shock to Tomlinson, even though he knew it was coming. “We’d done such a lot of work in a short space of time so a break was inevitable. But I don’t think I was necessarily ready for how long. We had a band meeting and everyone just said, ‘Maybe we’ll put it on the back burner for a bit,’ and I felt a bit petulant about that at the time. It actually hit me like a ton of bricks.” Now the band are officially on hiatus – “even though that’s a stupid f***ing word”, he says. “Truthfully, none of us truly know [if we’ll reform]. I just know what my gut says and my gut says we will get back together at some point. I think it was too magical for all of us to never do it again.”

The eldest of seven siblings, as a child Tomlinson says he was “well-mannered but a bit of a show-off. I was a lot cockier than I am now. Being in One Direction made me realise I’m not always the coolest kid in the room”.

He wasn’t good academically at school but enjoyed performing and, for a while, toyed with being an actor. Before auditioning on The X Factor, he did a string of jobs at weekends and in school holidays for some extra cash. One summer was spent as a waiter at his beloved football club, Doncaster Rovers. Another yielded a stint at a well-known cinema chain dispensing popcorn. There, he tells me unexpectedly, he was earning “an extra wage”. An extra wage? “As in taking a few quid from the till,” he says with a grin. “It all started because there was a McDonald’s over the road and I wanted money for my lunch.” His trick was to hand customers two boxes of popcorn but only put one through the system and put the money for the second in his pocket. “I didn’t want to short-change the customer,” he explains. “I’d take from the company. I’m a man of the people.”

It was his mum’s idea for him to try out for The X Factor, though it took three attempts to get through to the televised auditions. He says the experience of going on stage in front of the live audience, under the glare of the lights and with four famous judges looking back at him, remains the most terrifying of his life.

We talk for a bit about Tomlinson’s return to The X Factor in 2018 as a judge alongside Simon Cowell plus Robbie Williams and his wife Ayda Field. He asks what I made of the show so I decide to be honest and tell him that I thought the whole thing looked tired and Cowell appeared bored out of his mind. “Well I couldn’t possibly comment on [Cowell],” says Tomlinson, good-naturedly, “though I actually loved it. But yeah, I feel that, as a show, it needs a rest. There’s a place for a show like it and I’ve got my career to thank for it, but we’ve had a lot of it, so let’s just let it rest and make people want it again.”

Life has slowed down since the madness of One Direction but he still can’t find the time to read a book or watch a box set. Where, in his pre-fame days, he struggled to hold down a job, now he’s happiest when he’s busy. Should the singing career stall, he would like to run his own management company. Five years ago, he launched a record label, an imprint on Cowell’s Syco label, but life got in the way and his plans to create a girl band fell at the first hurdle. Originally he had gathered a list of 20 acts that he was keen to sign, and points out that “like, four or five of them are signed [elsewhere] now… I think I have an instinct for these things”.

I ask, rather unfairly, if the solo career of a former boyband member is ultimately a doomed endeavour – for every Robbie Williams, there’s a Howard, Jason and Mark whose careers sink without trace. For a moment Tomlinson looks stumped but then he prevaricates like a pro. “Of course, there are days where I might have unreal expectations and when I have to tell myself to stay grounded,” he says. “But I had a breakthrough moment last year about what success really means and I think I can look at it for what it is now. I have to look at how happy I am and remember that I’m lucky to be doing what I’m doing.”

#louis tomlinson #stunt mention #independent #wpress #250120

139 notes · View notes

doomedandstoned · 4 years

Text

Meet Judd Madden: Melbourne’s Most Prolific One-Man Band

~Interview by Shawn Gibson~

Art by Jeff Smith

How are you doing?

Pretty good! As good as we can in these strange times.

When you are not doing music you are doing web design. How busy does that keep you?

There's not much work on at the moment honestly, so personal projects have filled the void. And video games.

You live in Melbourne Australia right? Tell me a little about Melbourne and where you live.

Melbourne is home to 5 million people. It's a wonderful city with vibrant live music, restaurants, parks – anything you're into, you can find. I've lived here for 16 years and I absolutely love it.

How have the wildfires affected you?

We had smoke here in Melbourne for weeks, though Sydney was much worse. The bushfires (as we call them) were hell on earth for those nearby.

How are you holding up with the Corona virus affecting everything?

My wife is working from home now, with me, so that's nice. My friends and family are healthy and safe, but I miss seeing them in person – video chats and phone calls are just not the same.

I miss live music and being in a crowd, the physical space and sharing in the moment. Australia is doing well comparatively, we're a spacious country with a low population, and we're good at following rules like "stay home."

What places do you go to in Melbourne to see heavy music?

The Tote, The Bendigo, Max Watts (HiFi), The Forum. I can't fucking wait to get to a gig when all this is over.

What are some Australian bands you love and we should check out?

In the doom/metal scene there are so many. Droid, Dr Colossus, Pod People, Thaw, Holy Serpent, Lucifungus are some I've enjoyed live recently.

Glacial by Judd Madden

My first introduction to Judd Madden was Glacial. I loved it and checked the other albums on your Bandcamp page.

Oh, cool! That album featured my one and only music video; Mountain Slayer, which received great exposure.

Is there an album that was removed from your Bandcamp page? There was a song on an album that almost had a hardcore tempo, great bass line! I want to say something like against set. I wish I remembered!

Before Waterfall (the first album) was released I made dozens of rough songs, to see if I could do it all by myself, and to experiment. Most of them were bad. "Against Set" and some of the less bad songs are on the Old Doom & Demos album. Listening now, it's not that fast -- maybe you're thinking of something else? There are not a lot of fast songs in my catalogue, perhaps "Mouth" from Waterfall or Waterfall II?

Please tell me about 528hz (DNA repair). I have heard many frequencies in that range, higher and lower but never in a doom song!

It's from "Everything In Waves" which is about reality, energy, perception, matter, cosmos. In my research about wave-forms of all types, I stumbled across the "healing tones" genre, with its wild claims about specific frequencies.

The song is mostly tongue-in-cheek, but leaves the question open. Can listening to certain tones have healing/meditative benefits? Well, we don't know everything, right?

Feel No Pain by Dead End Thoughts

What prompted Dead End Thoughts?

The desire to create even heavier music, with vocals. It's a separate project, as my main catalogue doesn't have vocals – Dead End Thoughts is a different beast. I wanted a space to explore complex ideas, the edges of my mind and darkness. The songs are thematically and musically extremely heavy.

It doesn't come from a place of depression or anger, as some people have suggested, but a need to explore and create something original. If it's original I'm happy. Musically the songs are totally organic, it's a stream of consciousness in the jam, with vocals and instrument layers added after.

Dead End Thoughts recently released 'Feel No Pain' (2020). Please tell me about the spark that started the fire for this album.

Feel No Pain is created directly from live jams between myself on guitar and Dan on drums. It's an evolution from the first album, which I created recording guitar first and drums second (which was difficult).

When you jam with one melodic instrument and one rhythmic instrument, both are free (within reason) to do what they like. Adding a second melodic instrument like a bass usually requires more planning and results in more structured songs.

We enjoy seeing where things go. These five tracks were chosen from around 20 that we recorded throughout the year. I realised mid-year that this could be the next album; the riffs were of similar tone, and I wouldn't have to drum over them!

Once I added a second/third guitar, bass, and vocals, they no longer sounded like jams and became real songs -- but you can still feel the live energy. It's also not perfect, which I think makes it more interesting.

We surprise ourselves when we're jamming, there is no staleness from playing a rehearsed song over and over. Most of the riffs on the album were new to us as we played them. It's so much fun.

On 'Feel No Pain,' Dan Jolly plays drums and did the album artwork. Please tell me about him and his role in Dead End Thoughts.

Dan has been one of my best mates for many years. We've played a lot together, he's a fantastic drummer who's even more into doom metal than I am! He played on half of these tracks unaware that they would become an album, sorry Dan. (laughs)

Our drumming styles are actually pretty similar, but he's younger and more energetic. I asked him to do the album art, as I was doing all the production and extra instruments, so he could share ownership of the project. It's an awesome painting, we had it before the lyrics so I was able to connect with "By Burning Heat."

Colour High by Colour High

Tell me about Colour High and how that is different from the music you make most of the time.

Colour High is an electronic doom project, similar to the music in Stranger Things. It was made over two months very late at night, in headphones when I couldn't make noise.

I've always dabbled in electronic music, once I even 'played live' in 1999 with my brick of a computer and CRT monitor. I just sat behind it and pretended to be doing things -- I wasn't.

Colour High is all about exploring sounds, compositions, just having fun and enjoying a different process. Having the entire score and all instruments available when composing is very different to the track-by-track approach required for solo instrumental music.

What makes Judd Madden laugh?

Most things. My friends, my wife, my cat. I love TV shows like Curb Your Enthusiasm, Always Sunny, South Park, The Office. Love stand-up comedy -- hard to name just a few, but Dave Chappelle, Brian Regan, Bill Burr, Iliza Shlesinger, Joey Diaz, Dylan Moran and all the greats like Carlin, Seinfeld, Prior, etcetera!

Which bands have influenced you and the music you make?

My parents like Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Beatles, Metallica. 90's bands like Tool, RATM, Chili Peppers, Prodigy. Then I started getting into Kyuss, Sleep, Yob, and the amazing stoner rock/doom metal scene. It resonated strongly with me and I immediately wanted to make music in that genre.

Now I listen to anything good: jazz, classical, electro, darksynth, math, weird stuff like Scott Walker or doom bands like Conan, Bongripper, Aleph Null. Completely obsessed with an electronic artist called 2814, the album Birth of a New Day is a real trip.

Name some good books that you have read.

The Gap Cycle, Stephen Donaldson. The Nights Dawn Trilogy, Peter Hamilton. Enders Game Series, Orson Scott Card.I like big space operas, currently getting through The Culture series, but honestly I've fallen out of the habit of reading – I usually listen to music in headphones in bed.

How is the weed in Australia? Good?

It's illegal mate. But good, yes. I never touched it until I was 30 – now it's fun occasionally. I find it can help creativity, particularly with music. It can lower your ego, allow a more natural flow.

Is there anything you want to plug or promote?

Aside from the new album and the other projects we've discussed, my wife and I made Duel 52, a card game that you can play with a standard deck of cards. It's free and fun, if you're bored in lockdown check it out!

What is in the future for Judd Madden and Dead End Thoughts?

Once Dan and I can jam again we'll keep making music, and another heavy album. For my main project I have the beginnings of a lighter album similar to Float, spacey and guitar-heavy. Calm, meditative music to balance all this darkness.

Judd, thank you very much for your time! Stay safe and sane through these tough times!

Cheers, thank you for your support!

Waterfall II by Judd Madden

Follow The Band

Get The Music

#D&S Interviews #Judd Madden #Melbourne #Australia #Doom #Sludge #Metal #Doom Metal #one man band #Dead End Thoughts #Colour High #Doomed & Stoned

4 notes · View notes

megatraven · 5 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Plan

For the ever so lovely @jattendschaton, some Adrininette Valentine’s Day shenanigans for @mlshipfleet‘s valentine exchange hosted in the discord server!

Nino slammed his hands down, drawing the attention of both his partners. He gave them each a stern look before straightening his back.

“We agreed last year that we wouldn’t be doing anything big,” he said, a smile peaking through his harsh facade, giving way to how he really felt about the argument he’d interrupted.

“Elephants aren’t that big!” Adrien exclaimed, then, hearing his own words, blushed. “I mean, it could be baby elephants...”

Marinette laughed at that, setting her chin on her hands.

“Any why, pray tell, would you ever rent baby elephants for Valentine’s Day?” she asked, face alight with humor.

Adrien threw his hands up in exasperation. “Because I love you both and baby elephants are cute! What more reason do I need?”

“So how does your love for us tie into baby elephants again?”

Nino couldn’t bear to see Adrien flounder around for what was certain to be an even worse excuse than before, and shook his head smiling.

“Whatever the reason, no elephants. Baby or otherwise. Nothing big. We all promised. Right?”

“Yeah, okay, no baby elephants.”

“And nothing big.”

“Good. Now that that’s settled-” he clapped his hands together- “who’s ready for dinner?”

Marinette and Adrien gave their excited affirmations and they all turned to go to the dining room. Neither saw how Nino’s smile had turned mischievous.

They didn’t ask for him to reconfirm.

When the big day came around, Nino was first out of bed, only briefly savoring the moment of quiet peace that exuded from his partners’ sleeping forms. Thanks to all of them being relatively light sleepers due to years of superheroing, Nino found himself tiptoeing to the bathroom for a quick washing up- no time for a shower until the other two were up, and he had a lot to get done for the day.

After getting dressed as fast as he could, Nino was out the door, phone to his ear and calling all the right people. First was the florist, who’d been helping him plan the perfect bouquet for over half a year, followed by the bakers- who were definitely Tom and Sabine- and the band.

He made a couple more by the time he made it to the flower shop, and knocked on the door. There was still an hour until it opened officially, but the florist made an exception for him, since they would be there early anyways.

“Thank you so much, man, I really appreciate it,” Nino said as he was led inside. Flowers of all kinds filled the room, and there were even rows of saplings and shrubs-to-be. It never ceased to take his breath away, and he stood around for a minute to admire the scene and take in the scent of the place. He’d have to come back sometime for some musical inspiration when he wasn’t running Valentine’s Day errands. And maybe he could bring Adrien and Marinette with him- they’d probably love it just as much.

“Hey, no problem, man. What’re old school buds for if not opening their store an hour early?” The florist noted Nino’s pause, and turned around to face him, a grin lighting up his face.

Kim- an old classmate of Nino’s, Adrien’s, and Marinette’s, had somehow wound up going into the flower business. Nobody expected it, but at the same time, it hadn’t come as much of a surprise.

“Hey, don’t forget, they’re good for making and sending playlists that promote healthier plant growth too,” Nino teased. He recognized the music playing as his own, even though it could barely be heard through the store.

“Right, right, sure,” Kim said with a shrug, turning around and gesturing for Nino to follow him.

They walked through the winding aisles until they reached a little room that was more garden than break room, if you asked Nino. Kim didn’t seem to mind it, though, and led him over to the biggest bouquet he’d seen in the entire store.

Or, maybe it was more accurate to call it a sculpture.

There, in the center of the room was a slightly-smaller-than-life flower sculpture of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug’s suit was made up of almost entirely red roses, but Nino spotted hints of ambrosia beneath it as well as carnations. Morning glories, he was pretty sure, are what made up her ‘hair.’ For Chat Noir, his ‘hair’ was made up of primrose, his suit of black tulips and violet roses. There were many more he could see, but he wasn’t so great at naming them based on appearance.

“It looks amazing,” he breathed out, awestruck. Kim had really outdone himself, and Nino gave himself a little pat on the back for the thought.

“I know it does. This was a lot of work, but it was a really great challenge, too, so thanks for asking me to do it!” He gazed proudly at his work. “When did you want it dropped off?”

“Oh, right, one sec.” Nino took out his phone and shot off a few texts, getting responses almost as fast. “Can you do it in two hours? That should give me enough time for everything else to get in place.”

“Two hours is perfect, man. Good luck with your plans.” Kim gave him a wink, and then ushered him out of the store.

Onto phase two.

Everything was a disaster.

Nino was ten minutes away from revealing everything he’d set up to Marinette and Adrien, and they were nowhere to be found. They wouldn’t pick up their phones, he had no idea where they could be, and if they didn’t show up soon, the ice sculpture he’d commissioned would need to be moved somewhere cooler, which would compromise the elegance and charm of his whole setup.

Not that a live showing of Kitty Section was the picture of either of those things, but hey, Nino was pretty sure he didn’t want to be djing his own date.

Except now he’d might as well, because in the two hours he’d took to prepping, his partners had disappeared.

Everything was beginning to feel like his own plans weren’t the only ones being brought to life that day after all.

The next ten minutes felt like an eternity, but just as the clock dwindled down, Marinette and Adrien both appeared, at the same time but from different directions.

Marinette looked like she’d gotten dressed pretty hastily, and Adrien... well, he looked like he’d just climbed out of bed, put on the first thing in his closet, and left. Which, really, he pulled off pretty well.

They both greeted him with a kiss on his cheek, which he returned happily.

“So, no big things, huh?” Marinette asked, a little breathless. Nino eyed her suspiciously before Adrien joined in.

“Yeah, I though we promised, no big surprises.”

“Technically, I called you both nine minutes ago, so it’s not a surprise anymore,” Nino said, laughing at their answering scowls.

“You think you’re so smart, Lahiffe,” Adrien started, poking a finger at Nino’s chest.

“I know I’m so smart, actually.” Years of being exposed to Chat Noir’s cheesy romance caused it to rub off on Nino, and so he took Adrien’s hand and kissed the back of it. The blush that blossomed on Adrien’s face was a perfect match to the flowers in the floral sculpture. Marinette giggled at their display.

“So where were you guys? I called and texted but neither of you responded.”

“I was sleeping, and my phone was set for alarms only.” Adrien looked sheepish at this. “When I woke up, I saw all your texts and missed calls and rushed out. Then rushed back in, got dressed, and rushed back out.”

“And I was getting these,” Marinette said, pulling a bag out from behind her that neither of the boys had noticed before now. Within, underneath a lot of pink tissue paper, was an elephant plush. “Because, you know... it’s not a ‘big’ surprise without an elephant, I guess.”

Nino rolled his eyes at that and laughed, pulling her and Adrien both into a hug. Their dynamic was kind of silly a lot of the time, and over-dramatic, but that was really what made them work. They clicked like three pieces of a puzzle and always had some way to keep the mood light. Somehow, their personalities matched just right.

When they pulled apart, Nino finally prompted, “So, whaddya think?”

The other two took the opportunity to really take in all that he’d done, and the awe was clear in their expressions.

The centerpiece of the room was the Ladybug and Chat Noir sculpture he’d gotten made, and Kim had gotten to him with no problem, so it was perfect for presentation. There was also an ice sculpture, of each of their miraculous animals, and a pretty nice food arrangement. There were foods catered by Alya’s mom, and desserts and snacks by Marinette’s. Off to the side, Kitty Section was beginning to play. Despite originally being a screamo-styled band, they’d began practicing other styles of music, and were now playing something softer with a good beat.

Marinette leaned into his chest and rested her head against him. “It’s lovely, Nino. Though, I kind of wish Carapace was there with Ladybug and Chat.”

“Yeah, he does complete us, you know.”

“Hah, yeah. It didn’t feel right to really add me in there like I was proclaiming my love for myself,” Nino said, shrugging it off. It hadn’t bothered him, anyways.

Adrien hummed and took Nino’s hand.

“Good thing I thought of it, then,” he said, and looked over at Kim, who was smiling widely. He quickly ran out, and within minutes, a Carapace was added to the other heroes.

“Wh- how? How’d you know?” Nino gasped.

“Kim was streaming his work on instagram and I saw it,” Adrien laughed.

“Of course he streamed it. That guy’s a huge dork.”

“But, a very talented one,” Marinette pointed out.

Nino grinned. “Yeah, I guess so.” He pulled them to him again, unable to keep himself from mussing up his hair as he rubbed foreheads with them both. “Thank you both. For being here. For being with me. It really would have been just as perfect if we didn’t do anything big.”

In one voice, Marinette and Adrien said,

“We know.”

Bren!! I was so happy to get you for the exchange!!!!! <3 I hope you like this silly little thing! I had something completely different in mind when I started, haha. I’ll be posting up a few art pieces that are also part of your gift soon! Happy Valentine’s Day!

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrininette #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain-cheng #im not the Happiest with this fic but hopefully the art makes up for it :) <33333

60 notes · View notes

dangerousfoxfest · 5 years

Text

Collide Chapter 7: No More Secrets and Lies

2162 words: sorry guys for the long post I have been unable to break it up because I’m using my iPad to post today. So here is the finale of Collide. I hope you have enjoyed this story and I thank everyone who has been reading for their positive response and feedback. I have really enjoyed this experience of writing. 💕 As always the characters are pixleberrys.

Summary: This storyline takes place after Tariq was not found and the MC name was never cleared. Liam has received news that Madeline who is Queen, has been involved in a car accident in America.

Liam felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, as he turned, he saw Olivia, standing there tears in her eyes. She too had heard it all. “Olivia you owe me some answers”

Olivia nodded “I’m so sorry” she replied

“How could you keep this from me?....lie to me?” Liam asked

“I did it FOR you” Olivia answers

“FOR ME!” FOR ME” Liam shouts

“Keep your bloody voice down “ Olivia barks “yes FOR you”

“And how do you work that one out?” He sarcastic tone asks

“Riley was so worried about your reign…. The American who cheated on the future King with a Nobel during the social season, she could see the press headlines, the questions “is King Liam the father of Lady Riley’s baby?.” The damage that it could do to your reputation if the public and press knew you were both having an affair during the engagement tour. Your reign was so new, in its infancy and this would ruin the monarchy no one would trust you…She kept saying she wouldn’t be responsible for the collapse of your reign.” Olivia explains “you know what…..? she was right.”

“Olivia how could you say that? I would never have married Madeline” Liam responds “I would sooner have abdicated if I’d known”

“Yes…she knew that and she know it would destroy the monarchy…two fickle kings….no sense of duty….giving up the throne for their own selfish needs….why would people want a royal family after that?” Olivia continues. “Yet despite that she tried to tell you…let you make that choice”

“So I’ve heard” Liam sighs referring to the audio conversation he heard on Riley’s phone.

“You can blame her….or me!......your wife was the one who used everyone as a pawn in her quest for power” Olivia continues “and shes paid the ultimate price for that power…..I know I hurt you and shook your trust….but…” failing to finish “can I show you something?”

Liam nods in response which causes Olivia to hold out a small wooden chest box she had been carrying.

“What’s this?” Liam asks

“Open it” Olivia replies

Liam opens the box. Inside is Kimmy’s name band from hospital, a lock of her hair, a pair of baby booties, scan pictures, photographs of Kimmy and Riley on the day of her birth, photographs of Kimmy’s christening, her first and second birthdays. Tears once again began to fill Liam’s eyes as her looked at the boxes contents. “What’s this?” Liam asks holding a pen drive.

“It’s Kimmy’s firsts” Olivia replies

“First?” Asks Liam

“First smiles, first roll over, first words, first steps…Riley would email them to me and I placed them on a pen drive for you…..you see Liam…I never wanted you to miss any of this….so I gathered as much as I could….made you a memory box” Olivia responds.

“Carol says your Kimmy’s god-mother….paid her medical bills….teaching her….the art of war….”Liam says with a raised eyebrow

“She’s going to be Queen one day, I have to prepare her, it’s my duty to do this” Olivia replies “besides the bills are irrelevant she’s the daughter of the King, my future Queen”

“Thank you….”Liam offers “I have to admit I can’t put all this behind me right now…but thank you for taking care of them when I couldn’t”

Olivia gives a respectful nod in reply.

“You think I could watch this?” Liam asks holding the pen drive

“You would need a computer, I have my laptop at the hotel, Riley may still have the emails on her phone however, maybe have a check? Replies Olivia “I’m sure Riley won’t mind.

Liam uses Riley’s thumb print to unlock her phone and accesses her email app.

“Ah Olivia…check this out.” Liam says to Olivia while holding Riley’s Phone “there an email to Ana here” Both Olivia and Liam look at one another and open the email. “You owe me this one! Do what you will with the pictures, however you all did not spare me such grace” as he read Liam clicked on the attachments and there were the pictures of Madeline and Tariq. “She was the one who sent the pictures to the press” Liam said to himself with a small smile” Liam wondered what Riley was planning to do with he audio file, but he could imagine the intent would be to destroy Madeline and Tariq they way they destroyed her.

Over the next few days, events moved swiftly. Riley remained unable to breathe on her own and was wasn’t yet able to come off the ventilator. But each day she was here with him….pulling though. Rileys eyes remained closed and she was still unresponsive to her surroundings or any painful stimulus…small steps Liam thought she’s still here with me.

Liam had started to spend time with Kimmy getting to know his little girl. He was realising just how much her personality was like her mums, strong willed and stubborn but capable of tremendous amounts of love.

The funeral was planned in a two days time, Adelaide and Maxwell had flown home with Madeline’s body. The press had been speculating if the betrayed King would attend the funeral of his cheating wife. Tariq statement had been released clearing Riley’s name. He was honest as least to say he was not aware of Lady Riley’s presence in the car. He and Queen Madeline were “good friends” and felt it was time for Tariq to come home and be honest regarding their relationship .

Some “unofficial sources” had been revealing to the press how devious Madeline had been and the games she played destroying life along the way, although they did not publish all the negative stories about Madeline….not yet anyway…. But some questions were being asked about Madeline and Tariq relationship. The surrounding media speculation allowed comments regarding Riley to be favourable in the press, she was being promoted as a young lady so cruelly wronged losing the chance to marry the love of her life, who himself had been betrayed.

“Bastien we’ll have the jet ready for tomorrow morning head back to Cordonia.”Liam stated still at Riley’s bedside,

“Yes Sir” Replied Bastien

“Have the plane refuelled and a new crew for the return flight” Liam continues

“Return flight?” Bastien asks

“Yes, I’m coming straight back after the funeral” Replies Liam

“Sir that would look….” Bastien Replies but swiftly cut off by Liam

“I don’t care how it looks….I’ve had enough of the secrets and lies….time for the truth” Liam thoughtfully responds. “In fact….Bastien have Ana de Luca on the flight back to the states, don’t tell her why”

“That’s easy enough Sir, why do you want Ana here?” Bastien asks

“Riley trusted her enough with those photographs….I want someone sympathetic…someone Riley trusted to tell the world about Kimmy” Liam answers

“Sir is that a good idea?” Bastien warns

“Bastien…no more…no more secrets…no more lies….I’m done…my daughter….mines and Riley’s is the next Cordonian Queen..she will be treated as such….”continues Liam. “Besides I’ve spoken with Carol she agrees that Riley would want the secrets to be over….the cost of them has been to great…and cost Cordonia one Queen….I won’t let it cost another”

“Sir….behind you” Bastien responds to Riley lying on the bed.

As Liam turned her eyes were open fixed ahead. “Riley….Riley…Thank god” he called. However Riley did not respond and continued straight ahead. “Bastien get Dr Evans quickly” Liam cried. Bastien left the room and returned to see Riley’s eyes closed again. “I swear she opened her eyes” Liam pleaded. “That’s a normal response and a good sign…however remember her brain is very tired…her eyes may show she has woken up but she is not awake…that will take time to focus.” Dr Evans responded.

Dr Evans carried out some checks on Riley, she responded to painful stimulus…another good sign. Liam called Carol to come to the hospital , Informing her the progress Riley made. “Olivia can watch Kimmy” he suggested. Pretty soon Carol rushed into the room sitting at her daughters bedside. “Riley I’m here sweetheart” her mum called. Liam informed Carol of his travel details but she was to contact him with any changes. Olivia was staying in America with Thomas and Drake, share the watch duty with Carol and help watch Kimmy.

The next day Liam left for Cordonia, the press every ready with their questions at the airport “why didn’t you fly back with your wife” the journalist shouted. Liam ignoring the questions “always one he thought” and he continued walking ahead.

The funeral was a tense experience. Adelaide and Liam side by side with Regina throughout. Adelaide was angry news was slowly coming out through the press about her daughter scheming exploits….her name was being tarnished…all because of that American. By now Liam was done with the secrets and lies, he informed Regina and Adelaide of the whole story of Madeline’s schemes, the lies regarding knowing where Tariq was all along, the affair to keep him quiet, hiding Riley’s pregnancy. Just as Liam was continuing to tell the story, Adelaide flew into a furious rage and refused to believe it “Your doing this on purpose, to get with that American, Your ruining Madeline’s name, she would never”

“Oh really?” Replied Liam.

With that Liam brought out his phone, he had emailed himself a copy of the original audio file Riley took-but he had edited the recording so at the point of the accident it was not copied for others to hear….no one needed to hear that. The authorities had a copy of that section for their investigation just not Madeline’s conversation….a tale of two half’s Liam thought…with him and Olivia one ever hearing the whole thing. Liam apologised as Madeline’s over confident voice echoed around the room. what’s so funny?” Tariq asks.

“That stupid American and her child” Madeline scoffs

“What?” Tariq asks

“Lady Olivia got a call from her credit card company regarding the NY Presbyterian hospital” Madeline laughs

“When…what are you talking about” Tariq asked confused

“When…three years ago…do keep up…” Madeline huffs…..the audio continues….Madeline…you mean to tell me Liam has a child…somewhere and you knew” Tariq voice asks…

As the recording ended Adelaide stood frozen….”I had no idea…no idea…what will you do?”

“I’m going to start telling the truth…someone has too. I’m going to introduce Kimmy to the world and I am gong to give Anna de Luca a copy of this audio…she’ll be sympathetic get the story out gently” Liam replies. “I think the monarchy is stable enough to get through this than it was three years ago….a scandal yes but the monarchy will recover”

Liam flew back to America as soon as he possibly could, Liam discussing the reason for Ana’s journey on the flight over and the reason for his trust. Ana was shocked to hear about Kimberly and the extent of Madeline devious power plot, but she was secretly pleased above all others she was the one to get the story. The plan was a photo shoot with Kimmy and Riley’s mum, and Olivia her god mother, with a sympathetic press statement introducing Kimberly to the world. Ana has in her possession her audio recording and she would use it, if there was negativity regarding Riley, Kimmy or the affair leading to her conception. The story was to be introduced as a love story, which was plotted against denying this family of each other….a modern day romance. There wasn’t a way for Madeline’s reputation to be saved but the damage could be limited….if possible.

Over the few days Riley continued to make progress, she was off the ventilator but at times she would be confused and pulling out her IVs and at times needed some extra sedation depending how confused she got for her own safety.

Ana de Luca had introduced Kimmy to the world and largely positive response from the press, Ana was a respected journalist and if she placed a positive spin others were sure to follow. The Cordonian people were quite responsive to Kimmy, and were happy that their king would be truly happy with someone who would love him and not betray him like Madeline had. A month after the accident Riley turned her head with purpose and focus for the first time since waking up….she could see Liam talking with her mum…she smiled….”hello Your majesty” Riley called

“Oh my god Riley” Liam says kissing her deeply.

“So what did I miss?” Riley asks

Liam laughs…”our daughter she’s missing you terribly”

“Oh Liam I’m so sorry…I never meant to hurt you…I had to…” Riley replies slightly panicked

“Shh shh it’s okay….it’s okay I know it all…I know…she’s incredible” Liam says with tears in his eyes“

“Olivia?....” Riley asks

“yes I know that too, she’s with Kimmy just now…were good…Madeline….the schemes…Tariq…..Kimmy….it’s all out in the open …everyone knows….no more secrets and lies.” Liam replies. “However those stories can wait for another time but I do have one important question I need you to answer”

“What’s that?” Riley replies

“Marry me?” Liam asks

Tag list: @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @blackcatkita @flowerpowell @furiousherringoperatortoad @blznbaby y @lodberg @innerpostmentality @princess-geek @choices-addict @ao719 @carabethh @thequeenofcronuts ts @blackcoffee85 @jovialyouthmusic @perfectprofessorherokid @annekebbphotography y @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @hopefulmoonobject @stopforamoment @leelee10898 @bobasheebaby @indiacater @furiousherringoperatortoad @editboutique @gibbles82 @choiceslife

#the royal romance #choices the stories you play #choices the royal romance #olivia nevrakis #king liam #liam rhys #collide

92 notes · View notes

magicalsalamander · 6 years

Text

Business Affairs

Pairing: BTS Jin x Reader

Genre: Fluff/ Angst/ Smut/ Office worker/ Humor/ Enemies to lovers

Summary: When the unexpected happens and here you are hours away from home your professionalism is put to the test. Jin, long time rival, always shows up at your worst moments. What happens when the world seems to be against you and the only one you know is Jin?

Words:8 K

Warnings: smut, switch/dom/sub, baby girl/ baby boy, mentions of alcohol, cursing, and dirty talk. Rated 18+ (M)

A/N: Hi…I wanted to release this one shot as an intermediate while I’m working on other series. I know this trope has been done before, but I wanted my own version. Thank you for being patient with me. This is supposed to be lighthearted~. Thank you for reading~ check out the other version to get a (slightly different perspective on this one shot!

Masterlist, Got7 Jinyoung Version [Will be linked when issue is fixed, please access blog for mstlist]

The orange LED numbers escalated slower than usual, or maybe it was my impatience kicking in. I’ve been working overtime ever single day this week. The coffee keeping me the cheery professional was beginning to wear off. When the chromatic doors opened, I slipped through before it had the chance to even open fully. I tried wiggling my bloated toes in my tight heels as I stood outside my boss’s door. As the head of my team, I’m expected of nothing less than perfect on this project. The project was projected to make millions for the company if I did it right. To say that my shoulders felt heavy was an understatement.

I knocked three times, as requested, then adjusted my blue pencil skirt and walked in. He carried his pen across a document with a heavy hand almost carving his signature into the page. He tossed his pen onto his desk folding his hands together to rest them by his lip. The real “I was working really hard before you walked in” go to move for him. He parted them momentarily to offer me a seat in front of his desk. I bowed slightly taking a seat in front of his desk. Papers were pilled everywhere, it was unorganized and chaotic in this small room. Maybe, for once, he was actually working?

He leaned forward with his hands clasped speaking through them, “Ms. Y/L/N we need you to go pitch the presentation. Mr. Allen…he’s out sick for the week and won’t be able to go, so we need you to step up and do it.” I sighed leaning back into my chair, this wasn’t the first time I’ve had to fill in for Mr. Allen. He always took these “sick leaves” whenever his presence was required. On the downlow, I found out earlier today by chance that he’s actually taking his mistress out on vacation. I overheard him apologizing to her on the phone, “baby, my girl, you know I love you, look I’ll take you to that one place you always talk about…what was it? Boracay! Right, let’s go there…yes, yes, I love you too.” He held his phone with the same hand his wedding band was on. I’ve meet his wife before at office parties, the poor woman, she was too innocent and sweet for that monster.

I felt like a puppet, a part of me knew that Allen rubbed elbows with Mr. Newberry, but I had more pride than that. I had to bite the bullet, if I did well I would be up for a promotion. “I’m going to be put at the Hilton, right? And compensated nicely for this, right?” My boss smiled sweetly at me, “of course, Ms. Y/L/N! All accommodations included. You just have to sell it and get the buy.” I nodded then standing up to offer a polite bow on my way out, “thank you for this opportunity Mr. Newberry.” He smirked, “the pleasure is all mine, Ms. Y/L/N.” I walked out of the room and when I was in an empty hallway I held up my middle finger thinking to myself, “you knew this would happen from the beginning bastard.” Just like they did, I had things up my sleeve as well, I’m always prepared for a challenge.

Mr. Newberry’s secretary stopped by my desk later, dropping off the ticket information for my short flight. My team had one day to solidify all the information, then I’d have to fly out to give a presentation immediately after I landed. I rubbed my throbbing temples, standing up to round my desk leaning at its edge. I barked out to my team, “alright Plan A is a go! Toss out Plan B! Mr. Newberry is letting me do the pitch, I need all the information printed into packets and on file in presentation ready by tomorrow. I’ll buy you guys coffee and dinner to keep awake. I want to say this before we all get cranky, thank you for working so hard, keep up the great work team!” A ‘yes, boss’ sounded from my team and the fingers on the keys typed faster. A symphony of different instruments all sounding together. I called the local coffee shop, the one who was already used to us ordering from them, “hi, I want to make an order for pick up. I’m going to need….” The night was still young, but the circles under my eyes were darker than the sky.

Peering through squinting eyes, my half-zombies of employees dropped a stack of packets on my desk and handed over a prepped USB. Equally as dead, I mumble out, “thank you. You all did amazing and pulled through. When I get back I’m buying you all that dinner.” An excited but tired yay left the small crowd while some immediately collapsed on their desk. I chuckled patting the back of the closest employee, “you did well, thank you.” I knocked on nearest and cleanest surface, “go home everyone, you deserve a good nights rest.” I picked up my blazer and draping it over my arm as I packaged the packets up nicely in a manila folder along with the USB. Finally, going home, but the night wasn’t over.

I packed my small suitcase for the trip, with the manila folder on the bottom securely under my clothing. I didn’t get to sleep long, maybe two hours maximum, before I was in a taxi on my way to the airport at two. I wanted to fall asleep in the taxi. The ride through the city was so comforting, but I forced my eyes open. After all the basics were covered and I was waiting for my plane, I bought a coffee then a spare to ensure I would stay awake. The last thing I needed was to miss my flight. Luckily the flight was directly to the destination, a total four hours, so once I boarded I took advantage of the time and took a short nap.

By the time I arrived, it was 7:30a.m., but I only had enough time to stop at the hotel, drop my suitcase off and get back in a taxi. Everything was going as planned and expected, except for one thing.

I walked up to the receptionist desk of my promised hotel, queuing behind a man in a suit. This Hotel was luxurious, men and women alike walking around in designer and suits. He crossed his leg leaning into the desk, “please sign here Mr. Kim.” My ears perked up hearing the familiar name, but then again, Kim was a common last name. The strangers silhouette though made me a bit skeptical. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Kim, so I must’ve be overthinking it. God, I hope I was overthinking it.

He scribbled his signature on the receipt and took the key card from the receptionist with a polite thank you. A smirk slowly formed on his face with each degree of his turn as I came into sight. His plump lips pulled thin as I caught his eye. His profile was irritating, how can someone look so put together this early. He side stepped out of my way, “Ms. Y/L/N, it’s great to see you.” I huffed lightly at his cocky tone, but kept the professionalism, “hello Mr. Kim, it’s great to see you too. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” I told the receptionist my information while maintaining conversation. I didn’t catch him, but he observed me bottom to top. Catching his eyes as they met mine, “are you here on business or pleasure Mr. Kim?”

I had to admit, he was handsome. He had all the characteristics that could be placed on the pro side of a scale: tall, smart, and good looking. However, admittedly I was too competitive with him to see most of those traits. Jin worked for a firm that was a rival to mine, so we would often meet when our companies would send us out. He brought out this side of myself that I felt with no one else, he just pushed my buttons.

My coworkers always remind me how amazing Jin was at his job. The women fawned over his looks, while the men patted his back for his prowess. He shows off his pearly whites to the executives and they’re a puddle of mush agreeing with whatever he said. He never panics, he was always at ease with himself and his craft. Everything about him was graceful and never rushed—like his work was an art performance. He never refused questions and had done more research than required. He was, for the lack of a better word…perfect. It irked me, but I could only humbly agree that he was…charismatic. I couldn’t deny that he’s a smart and confident; I could respect him for that. It’s not him personally that made my throat itch, but the people around me that always remind me never to fraternize with the enemy. Competition is competition. Business is business.

“Business affairs of course, Ms. Y/L/N.” I signed the last paper and was handed my key card. “Well, it was great catching up. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.“ He obnoxiously bowed, waving his hand teasingly towards the elevators as if I was royalty asking to pass. However, he followed behind going towards the elevators along with me.

When we stepped in, just the two of us, I pressed the button for the sixth floor. He reached over, “excuse me…oh, never mind.” I turned to him, “sixth floor as well?” He nodded, the rest of the ride was silent, but I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t make myself discreet as I stared right back through the reflection on the elevator. I felt the awkwardness in the air, or it could’ve just been me. He smiled when I caught this lidded stare looking right back. I had this unnerving feeling in my stomach, whenever he would show up, something always happened.

Jin went right while I banked left. I slid my card into the lock and when the light turned green I opened the door. For the first time my hotel room wasn’t stuffy and debatably dingy. It was a small room with a queen size bed, but it was enough for a few day trip. I took out the envelope from the bottom of my suitcase checking everything once more. With my messenger bag, my laptop, and the goods I was ready to head back out. I fixed myself up before I left and found myself outside hailing a taxi. Traffic was light, so I made it there in less than fifteen minutes. I tipped the driver nicely, it was rare to get kind, fast service in the city. I looked up at the tall building, it was intimidating, but I adjusted my shoulders pulling them back. I could do this, this was going to be a breeze, people were counting on me.

The lobby was busy, I was swimming amongst the black and blue suits. I pushed through towards the elevator, sardining my way in until I squeezed my way out onto the twentieth floor. I smoothed out my clothing again, walked towards the nearest receptionist desk. “Hello, I have a meeting with Mr. Storey at 9 a.m..” The bun on this woman was pulling her face extra tight, free Botox I suppose. “Yes, please enter conference room A with the rest of the group.” I pulled my head back a bit, “others?” The receptionist nodded, “yes, our boss believes in efficiency. All pitchers for today will be presenting today one after the other as a group.” I sighed pulling my best smile. This was completely different from what I expected, but challenges are there to better you. At least that’s what I kept repeating to myself.

I cautiously opened the conference room door finding it already bustling with competitors. It was all of us swimming to pitch the best idea. I’ve heard of events like this, but this was a first for me. Did Mr. Allen already know about this as well? I found an empty chair and opened my laptop going over the power point. I scrolled down re-reading the file, but some of the slides were missing or shifted. I breathed in closing my eyes for a moment, “don’t panic, maybe it’s just a glitch.” I shut down the file, but when I reopened it a text box opened up “There was a problem when Microsoft PowerPoint when it was closed. We cannot open the corrupted file. We apologize for the inconvenience.” My leg began shaking impatiently, but I still reminded myself not to panic. I took out the USB and reinserting it attempting something else, anything else.

I jumped as I felt hot breath fan over my shoulders. My leg tremors halting in their anxiety, “not right now Kim.” My voice came out sassier than intended, but I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He plopped into a chair next to me taking his own laptop shrugging at my jeer. Every new attempt didn’t work, the same error message reappeared. I could feel my pits embarrassingly building up with sweat, as people started settling down. The same secretary at the receptionist came to the front of the U table, looking at her watch. “We will begin the presentation in five minutes. The presenters will start around the table going clockwise, please be prepared when it comes to your turn.” I looked around the room realizing I was going to be the fourth to present. An unprecedented whine left my lips; technology was not my strong suit, but I had to figure out a solution.

Kim leaned over once more eyeing my screen, “seriously Kim, please, save it.” He had the audacity to chuckle at my distress. I turned towards him with a glare fully prepared, but he took the unresponsive laptop. He typed away clicking a few times, and before I could blink again it was back in front of me. It was all fixed, the presentation was up and running and had all the slides functioning again. My mouth fell agape, but he nonchalantly went back to his laptop. It felt odd, a weird feeling circled in my stomach, but I whispered out, “thank you.” A soft smile left his lips and my heart nearly stopped, it was, if not, the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.

The presentation took up the whole morning and afternoon. Mr. Storey was the typical motivational speaker kind of guy. After every presentation he would insert a motivational quote or his own little speech. It was hard to read him if he actually enjoyed the pitches or was using it to turn into a lesson for the rest of the room. In a sick way, that was more terrifying than a one on one bit. At this point all I wanted to do was go back to my room and sleep. The verdict wouldn’t be given until after we all returned anyways. Especially since the rain started around lunch and it was lulling me to sleep.

Just let this day be over with.

I could feel the water dripping off me in a constant stream as I walked through the hotel lobby. My lent umbrella malfunctioned, two of the metal prongs holding the umbrella broke when the strong wind blew too hard. I pulled my blazer closer over me protecting my messenger bag, the front of my chest was completely drenched by the winds. I protected my plastic bag with a tray of piping hot takeout. It was the only thing I had to look forward today. I stopped and fished into my purse feeling my phone vibrate.

I wiped away the tendrils of my wet, seaweed hair, “hello, Y/L/N speaking.” The voice on the other end sloppily screamed into the receiver. I pulled my phone away form my face still able to hear the complaining on the other end. “Y/N...If anything….wrong….you’re…out!” I honestly didn’t need to listen to everything, I already know what he was implying. Mr. Newberry always did this after he sent me off; it was his way of feeling dominant. I would uh-huh into the phone every now and then to let him know I was still listening.

At the hotel bar Jin watched from a distance, unexpectedly distracted by the click of heels then the beautiful woman. He watched Y/N from over the rim of his wine glass. She pulled the phone away from her wincing at the receiver. He couldn’t help but let out a huff of a laugh under his breath. He’s been there before. He had to admit, he liked her. Every time they crossed paths, his life would become a thousand times more interesting. It seems like cheeky gnomes were always at her feet making her life a sitcom. She was pretty, like a main actress, so it would make sense her life was a sitcom. It only egged him on when she was sassy with him, her intelligence was her best characteristic.

No one else was up front with him like she was, he didn’t have to impress her, he was himself. She brought this side out of him that no one else could. However today though, when she thanked him the blush coating her cheeks one upped any other expression he’d seen. This expression on her face now had to be one of his least favorites, exhaustion seeping like a tangible aura out of her. His eyes followed her as she walked slowly to the elevator, but he remained seated watching her disappear into the elevator.

I shucked off my heels smacking the wall with two thumps. I draped my blazer over the back of a chair setting the messenger bag on the chair. I tossed the broken umbrella into the trash and set my food on the desk in the room. I just wanted to take off my soaked clothes and shower. If I was fast enough, I could eat my food while it was still hot. I brought out my suitcase from the closet and grabbed my facial cleansers. I trudged to the bathroom for the first time taking in this particular room. It was very modern, and I was lucky to get a suite with a bathtub. Maybe if I had time, I would use it tomorrow morning.

I unpacked my facial regimen near the sink. I flipped up the hot water lever, but the water came out in spurts making funny sounds. I closed the lever fast, waiting a few seconds before trying again. Maybe the sink hadn’t be used in a while? After a moment I flipped it up again, but this time the stream was violent, and the water color was a murky yellow. I karate chopped the lever down, that color I’m sure was legal. I went back into the main room and dialed the front desk who promised a maintenance man to come check on it.

The man tweaked with the faucet scratching his head, “hmm, none of our other rooms are having this problem. I think it would be best to move you to another room.” I heavily sighed but smiled through my teeth. This day was…lovely. The maintenance man called the front desk telling them to reassign me a new room. I packed up all my belongings and made way to the front desk.

Jin was still sitting at the bar, working on the same drink. Barely ten minutes had passed when his eye brows raised to his hairline seeing Y/N at the receptionist desk. He noticed the suitcase and messenger bag strapped around her. After a few minutes she bowed in thanks to the receptionist making her way back to the elevator.

My food was cold for sure; the styrofoam flavor had set in by this point. My room was now on the third floor. I turned left out of the elevator dragging my suitcase behind me. I slid the keycard in and pushed it open. The room smelled nice, and nothing seemed off. Again, I shucked off my heels and abandoned my suitcase and bag by the door. This time I was determined to skip the shower and just eat. I rummaged through my purse for a hair tie and tied my hair up tight, taming the kelp.

The king size bed was an upgrade from the last room. I searched for the remote control, switching it onto a random, tolerable channel. I just needed something to drown out my thoughts. I unknotted the handles of the plastic bag, taking out the takeout tray and a plastic fork. I opened the box and took a deep inhale of my savory food. The food was still a bit warm. I could feel myself salivating so without further interruptions, I plopped carelessly onto the bed.

Crack, creak, crunch and there went the box spring planks. The soundtrack Ave Maria played at 0.5x speed as my food flew out of its compartments and all over my chest. My white dress shirt and black pencil skirt was coated in a wonderful array of colors and smells. I struggled to stand up pushing the empty tray onto the floor. The bed was on the floor in shambles; I could even see the wooden frame sticking out from underneath. My mouth hung open like a fish out of water. I wanted to scream, but I took in a deep breath letting it all out. I attempted to steady my breathing, but it instead angered me further. I let out a guttural yell I was sure was heard in the next rooms over. This was the last straw! I stomped over to the phone, then reminded myself not to yell into the receiver. I dialed the front again, letting them know I needed a room change. A manager knocked at the door this time. When I opened the door, the managers eyes flew wide open and he apologized profusely when he saw the aftermath.

Fifteen minutes had passed, since her last venture to the lobby. Jin paid the bartender satisfied with only a glass for tonight. He picked up his blazer and shoved off the bar stool. The heels of his loafers clicked against the title of the lobby, the rest of the residents were well dressed in either suits like him, or designer clothing. Like a magnet his eyes stuck onto the eye sore at the receptionist counter again.

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair standing at the receptionist desk for the third time today. She turned slightly and he caught the food stains all over her shirt and the mascara running down her cheeks. He couldn’t laugh, he felt worried for her, so he changed his direction towards her. As he approached he heard her spew out, “what do you mean there no other rooms?” She fell forward letting her forehead bang onto the counter, “this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.” He stood next to her looking towards the receptionist, “is there a problem here?” Y/N grumbled out, “please, Kim, I’ve had a long night.”

What I didn’t expect was he didn’t laugh, instead his tone sounded concerned. I smelled strongly of food, and wet dog; I felt absolutely disgusting. I felt humiliated enough. The familiar receptionist tried to not stare at the blatantly obvious mess I was. At this point I could care less how I looked, I just wanted a functioning room. She turned to Jin, “there are no more available rooms here tonight.” I pulled out my cell phone finding the only thing left to do was search for another hotel in the area. This was giving me a headache.

Jin was quiet, mulling over his thoughts. He was sure she was going to reject, but the last thing he wanted was her to go out at night this late. “Stay with me.” Her head shot up from the counter with her mouth agape trying to find the joke. “Jin, this isn’t funny.” He shrugged, “I’m being serious, there’s no other rooms. You shouldn’t go out this late, besides its still raining. Do you think if you approach another hotel looking the way you do they would let you stay?” His words left a bad taste in my mouth, but he wasn’t wrong. I turned back to the receptionist, “there really isn’t any other room? Storage closet even?” She bowed politely, “no, ma’am I’m sorry there isn’t.” I sighed turning around once biting my lip, then whipped around to Jin, “okay.”

There was no victorious smirk, or jeer at my situation he took my suitcase for me leading me towards the elevators. I stood behind him fiddling with my thumb in the elevator. It didn’t settle well in my stomach being in debt to Jin. I pulled my messenger bag closer to me as I watched his back walk down the hallway. I traced the edges of his back with my eyes. I never really looked at him, just passing glancing. I had tunnel vision, because I was so determined to beat him in any meeting. I almost ran into that broad back but stopped in time when we came up to his door.

He’s never once lost his grace, his hand was calm inserting the key card in. On the other hand, my palms were sweating. Why did I take this deal again? The familiar smirk took home on his lips, “calm down, Y/N. I’m not going to do anything.” I choked a bit on my saliva, “I’m—I’m not nervous.” Great, that came out perfect, stable with ease. He nodded, but I could see he was holding back laughter. I gripped and released on the plastic handle of my suitcase. He’s being kind, the least I could do is offer the same back.

He let me go in first. I looked back at him after setting my bag down, “there’s only one bed?” He nodded at my obvious observation, “I’ll sleep on the couch there.” He pointed to the loveseat, that was obviously too small for the six-foot giant. “No, I’ll sleep there.” He wanted to rebuttal, but I continued, “may I take a shower? I really don’t want to smell like my dinner anymore.” He tossed the key card on a table top pulling at his tie to loosening it up, “go ahead, take your time.” I gulped hard when I noticed his collarbone sticking out from his white button up. I dragged myself and my suitcase into the bathroom, before I dragged myself further down humiliation road.

Business is business.

I settled against the door putting a hand over my chest. This was so unusual, why was my heart beating so fast? There’s something wrong with me. It must be all the stress making me more sensitive. I locked the door then I peeled off my button up shirt and threw it in the sink along with my skirt. The hair tie was discarded on the counter, the wet strands sticking to my skin. I turned up the hot water knob to its full capacity and stood under the hot water until I felt completely clean. I wrapped a towel around my body, finally feeling some sense of relief. I fished out of my purse my phone checking for anything important. I scrolled through the infinite drunk messages from my boss. At some point his messages turned from scolding to desperate pleads to get the buy.

I dried my hair before I slipped on my oversize shirt and leggings on to sleep in. I opened the door cautiously setting my stuff near the entryway. Again, my hands naturally went to clutch in front of myself as I stepped into the main room. Jin, who had changed into sweats and a white shirt, was standing around three carts of food, lifting the metal lids from pipping hot plates. The delicious scent of food wafted through the air, I gulped down the saliva pooling in my mouth. I’ll just sleep and eat in the morning.

I passed by Jin going towards the loveseat finding a blanket and pillow situated there. I smiled unconsciously at the kindness. “Are you hungry?” I unfolded the blanket rearranging myself onto the couch, “no, I’m fine. I’m just going to sleep.” That would’ve been convincing if my stomach didn’t decide to roar in protest. This time a melodious laugh poured out of his lips. “Oh, what is that? I got you a plate, but if you insist you’re not hungry…I guess I’ll have to eat it.” I sat up peering over at him, “why are you being so nice to me?” He pushed a tray cart over to me, “I’m always nice to you Y/N.” I couldn’t argue, because it was true. He was always right. I looked down concealing my embarrassment. “Thank you.” He nodded sitting at the edge of his bed turning on the TV to fill the silence. I wanted to be polite, but I ended up eating like it was my last meal.

“So…how’s your day—whoa! Don’t choke!” I nearly spit out the food in my mouth, one from not expecting him to want to talk and two the question lack sensibility. He pushed the glass of water towards me, which I took gratefully. “Sorry, that was a bad question, I’ll admit it.” I laughed once the hard gulp cleared. Jin was so smooth with his words when he was working, even in between, but this man sitting here was tactless. I stabbed my fork into my food staring up conversation with a more natural opener and before we knew it, we were talking for a few hours. We had a lot more in common than I expected, even our sense of humor matched up.

We cleaned the plates and Jin placed the carts out into the hallway. When he came back in he stood near his bed for a moment, “are you sure you’re going to be fine sleeping there?” I nodded toying with the edge of the blanket. He turned off the TV and then the light switch bathing the room in darkness. I slipped further into the couch, cramped, but adjusted none the less. I heard the shuffling of blankets and then the decompression of a pillow. “Good night Jin…thank you…for everything.” I didn’t have to see it, but I could some how sense the smile on his face. “Your welcome. Good night Y/N.”

I couldn’t find a comfortable spot, so I flipped over a few times and each time it only felt comfortable for a few moments. I hated moving because the crinkling of the barely used couch wasn’t discreet. “Y/N, join me on the bed.” I froze before I was about to turn again, “it’s fine Jin.” He sat up clicking on the bedside table lamp. “Y/N, I promise to stick to my side, just join me. Your shuffling is keeping me awake.” He lifted the comforter up patting the empty space next to him.

Again, my heart took a mind of its own beating like a tambourine. This wouldn’t be my first time sleeping next to a man, but this was Jin. The indistinguishable flames of contempt and scorn should be tickling by now, but I couldn’t find it in me. He was genuinely offering, no strings. I hesitantly took my pillow and plopped it down onto the mattress and slipped into the bed. I stayed as close to the edge as possible slipping under the covers. He chuckled, and I swear I heard a whisper, “cute.”

He couldn’t fall asleep anymore, especially with her next to him. His eyes trailed the outline of her curves through the sheets. The soft dip of her waist, the beautiful curve of her neck as her hair fell like watercolor swirling through water onto her pillow. She turned around inching closer to the center of the center of the bed. Subconsciously he moved closer as well, seeking her out. She looked so sweet, gentle, he was cherishing this expression he rarely got to see. The rain picked up outside thrumming harder against the window. He brought his eyes back to Y/N when whines blubbered through her lips. Her eye brows scrunched together as she curled in on herself. She must be having a nightmare, a terrible one at that.

Subconsciously she reached out, curling towards Jin. Her hands fisted in his shirt and her legs intertwine with his. He contained a shiver as her cold feet traced up his calf, so her body rested in an arch position against him. He should’ve pushed her away, but instead his thumb traced over her brows. He smoothed them out until they relaxed. Her face instantly softened, and a breath of relief ghosted along his collarbones. She was the perfect chill to his overheating body, fitting against him perfectly.

I opened my eyes slowly, against my better judgment, and realized that my forehead was directly on Jin’s chest. My hands fisted against in his shirt tangling as if I was headphone wires. My jaw dropped as I unraveled myself and shimmed away from him, mortified that I sought him out. The change in temperature woke him from his haze, “Y/N? Are you okay?” I couldn’t form words properly, his husky tone ticked away my rational thoughts, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to!” He smiled lazily, “…you were having a nightmare, it’s okay.” I still felt the remnants of his touch, the warmth.

He was patient waiting for her to make the next move. It was always her.

Maybe the darkness was giving me courage, or it was…the ease I felt towards Jin now. I cut the silence pulling the blanket closer over myself, “I keep—I keep having them every night.” His eyes fell into something like adoration and sympathy. “You can talk to me Y/N.” He wanted to reach out and hold her, but we were back to reality. “You wouldn’t understand Jin. You do everything right. You know how to talk to people. Just a smile and they’re on your side. I have to drown myself and then maybe people will consider me. I’m not good enough for anything.” The more she confessed her sins to his church, the higher the veil of her blanket rose. She bowed at her vices and insecurities, setting herself bare to her senses. The choking on her own insecurities made him want to bid her forgiveness, something she didn’t deserve from him, but if he could ease it then he would.

He reached over pulling the blanket away from her face settling on top of her hand. He moved closer to her, his gaze never leaving her lost ones. He swiped away at tears staining her rosy cheeks smiling softly at the fragile being before him. “Y/N. I’m not this God you make me out to be. I’m afraid, I lose sleep, and forget to eat just to please others. Where we stand now, on this equal and same plane, it wasn’t easy getting here. You living your life comparing it to someone else isn’t ever going to satisfy you. When have you lived your life for yourself?”

I nearly choked on my own tears, the question of ‘how are you’ or ‘what do you want’ are always daunting. “I don’t. I can’t. I do things that only benefit me, whether I like it or not. Don’t get me wrong I like my job, but sometimes it feels like I’m getting nowhere.” His soothing finger over my cheek didn’t stop and since when did he get so close? I could feel his hot breath on my skin, a breath of paradise in the Antarctic. “You’re strong Y/n. The strongest person I know. I admire you y/n, but what do you want?”

We sat in silence until my tears dried, but I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his lips. His eyes were watching mine with equal need. There was one thing I was sure I wanted. It was him, even if it was for just tonight. A passing instant of mistaking want for need, because right now I needed him, “you, I want you.”

The heat of our reluctant exhales as we pull away for mere seconds, to catch a breather. The touches between us both were teasing, true to our nature. The first brush of our lips was reluctant his eyes searching for hesitation. Our kisses started out cautiously, but eventually he was pushing me over the edge with his nips at my lip and his tongue asking for entrance. I granted him that, at this point I feel like I wanted to be his genie. He pushed at my shoulders to hover over me, but I’m not that kind of giving genie.

I pushed back until he was flat on his back and I was straddling him, our lips never separating in the process. I parted from his lips, but he tried to sit up to catch them again. My hands stayed firm pushing down on his chest, “Y/N?” I leaned forward to peck his lips, biting my swelling lips on recoil very much liking this position looking at him from above.

His hands trailed up and down my thighs rubbing them appreciatively. He wanted to do whatever she wanted, he’s finally getting to touch her, kiss her. He leaned his head back looking at me through lustfully lidded eyes and parting his pillow lips. He was almost too pretty to touch. I regained my motion when I felt his erection touching my inner thigh straining in his sweatpants. I lowered myself onto him, clothed cores caressing, but my leggings were thin. Slowly, like molasses, I began grinding against him. I didn’t expect the sensation to travel up my back, so I threw my head back in pleasure. I whined tangling my hands in his shirt, but I wanted it off. “Jin, take it off.”

He follows my biding crossing his arms to lift his shirt over his head. My jaw nearly fell out of socket feeling like I was observing a Greek statue. It was hard to tell under his suits that there was a developed body underneath. I let my fingertips play against his abs, making him squirm slightly. It made me smile, I liked how responsive he was. “You’re doing so good for me baby boy.” I trailed up further circling around his pectorals, searching his eyes for the deeper look staring right back at me.

I circled around trailing closer to his harden buds. I leaned down flicking it with my tongue, nibbling and then sucking lightly. Deep groans then high pitch whines dance on my ears and I wanted more. I trailed around his chest wanting to leave violet and navy marks on his perfect skin. I wanted to play the succubus to this angel’s demise into sin. I wasn’t sure If I could take the teasing anymore, my panties were soaked still slowly moving against him. I wanted him inside me already.

As my lips moved up his jaw to find his lips again, his palms found my ass kneading it desperately. “Y/N—ah—God, that feels so good!” A predatorial smile found its way on my lips. I kissed him until the vibrations of his moans were a never-ending resonance. His hands came to still my hips, “stop—stop. If you keep going I’m going to come in my pants.” I trailed a hand down to cup his bulge, “can I? I need you in me.” My walls clenched at the thought of him stretching me out, if my hands were telling of his size then I was in for a filling. I was getting impatient with my own teasing, I needed him.

His hands trailed up my oversized shirt trailing up my stomach to the edges of my breast, only to find no bra. A huff of a gasp left his lips, “you’re so naughty, no bra Y/N?” He molded his large palms onto my breast wanting to feel every bit. He twisted and pinched as I arched towards him stripping myself of my shirt. I pulled away reluctantly kneeling at the end of the bed shimming out of my leggings too. “No panties as well, Y/N. Ugh—you’re going to be the death of me.” I smirked biting my lips teasingly. His eyes cleared for a moment, “condom? Shit, I don’t have one.” I cooed at him, “don’t worry, I’m on birth control and clean, are you?” His eyes widened at the thought of feeling her raw around him. Jin nodded obediently, “yes, I’m all clear.”

He pulled down his pants and his thick, red-tipped cock smacked against his naval. I got down on all fours crawling towards Jin like a cat. He felt like a man trudging up a hill to the temple of the holy saint Y/N. He wanted to bow at the goddess feet, to remind her that she was to be worshiped. The goddess could only be strong as her people praise her and he was going to invigorate her. The look in his eye was of a man looking at a woman with lust and adoration. His lips ghosted along hers, half lidded eyes full of promises, “can I?”

I nodded letting myself bathe in the warmth of Jinyoung, his broad chest a mattress of its own. His plush, lips pressed against mine briefly, leaving an imprint of their touch. They didn’t linger far, the skin still a peach fuzz length away. This time I was chasing his honey, wanting to dive into the sweetness.

I sat on his lap again, angling his cock and swiveling it over my honied folds. I whined at the sensation, he nodded asking me to sink onto him. My walls clamped around him, a grunt of pleasure slipping through his lips. His breathing was labored as much as mine was, this was something he could get addicted to. I sat pubic bone to pubic bone, the tip of his cock nudging at my cervix. I was right, he filled me up perfectly.

His hands caressed my sides teasing my breast then trailing down to grip at my ass. He wanted to admire everything, she was breath taking. “You’re so beautiful.” I lowered my head concealing the blush spreading like wildfire on my cheeks. I lifted up falling back down from base to tip in long strokes. I was afraid if I went to fast I wouldn’t last long. The images I painted early riled me up. His hands secured over my hips helping me bounce. I swiveled my hips to have him hit all angles. He sat up coating my chest and neck in kisses urging me to continue. Moans and mewls increasing grew louder as I picked up pace.

He threw his head back biting his lip but never took his eyes off mine, “your fucking me so good Y/N. Your taking this cock so well.” I felt the prowess I had slipping back to him. He wrapped his arms around my waist flipping us over with him looming on top. He stilled inside me, I whined for him to continue, but his lips went back to my neck and his thrust were minimal. I wanted—needed—him to faster, harder, more. “Jinyoung, harder!” He mumbled into my neck, “what was that baby girl?” I whined at the nickname, but I was too far gone to care. “Please, harder, fuck me harder!”

He smirked against my neck pulling as far back until his tip was hanging at the entrance and slammed back in. I could feel myself nearing my climax and he could too. I tightly wound my legs around his waist holding on for dear life as his brutal hips snapped against me. My new nickname rolled of his tongue in between his grunts and moans. He wanted to bring y/n to an end before he did. He could feel it bubbling up, threating to coat her paradise, but y/n’s needs came first. He sat up angling himself to perfectly hit that one sweet spot inside me. “Jin!” He continued to roll himself into that spot. “Good baby girl?” I didn’t want to close my eyes, I wanted to watch him, but it was getting harder when white was coating my vision. “Jin, I’m—I’m—going to….”

With a few more rolls of his hips fireworks set off within me. I clenched tightly around him and within a few more thrust he was coming. My undulating walls milked him for all he was worth. He collapsed on top of me and I ran my hands through his hair. He twisted to leave soft, gently kisses on my lips. Our hot breath intertwined as I giggled lightly, “that was—amazing.” He smiled kissing me again, “that was.” He shifted collapsing next to me bringing me into his arms. The moment was perfect. I didn’t even want to bother wiping his cum trailing down my thigh. The night faded out with our giggles and lingering kisses. Eventually we fell asleep in eachothers arms and I was nightmare free.

My heels clicked and echoed down the hall. I was off again on another trip, but this time to a local business. I scrolled through my phone checking over my schedule once more. I didn’t notice the second pair of loafer heels clicking, approaching at the other end. I mumbled out my schedule finding it solidifies it to memory with repetition. “Tuesday at 3pm Mr. Lee from CREx Co….,” I then felt hot breath over my shoulder. “Wednesday at 9 a.m., make sure to pencil in breakfast with Kim Seokjin.” I shook nearly dropping my phone spinning to face my rival. “Mr. Kim, what are you doing here?” He scoffed, “y/n, its only us, you don’t have to address me so formally.” I huffed pretentiously, “we’re on the clock right now.”

He stepped closer his chest almost touching mine, “is that tight skirt also on the clock right now?” His hand went to caress my hip, but I slipped from his groping. I bit my lip but suppressed the flirtatious comeback. “Oh, Mr. Kim, if you keep following me from behind you won’t get to see the hands of the clock.” He raised his brow, but trailed after me as I walked again, but finding it odd that I deviated away from the conference room. He stopped at the end of the hall watching me go to a storage closet and open the door and wink at him before I left it slightly ajar. He sped walked towards the door slipping inside. I was already unbuttoning the top buttons of my blouse, “are you here for business or pleasure Mr. Kim.” He bit his lip, “business affairs Ms. Y/L/N. Business affairs baby girl.”

He closed the door behind him, with a clink of the lock.

894 notes · View notes

abenthyadventures · 5 years

Text

Day 18 (Pt. 1): Or A Coincidence of Fates

Over the last few weeks, traveling with Agnes, we have shared some stories of our lives so far. I have sensed there is something more to Agnes than I’ve seen thus far, but I can tell she is just and true—a paladin to the core. Today, I bore witness to her splendor in battle, and truly she is a force with which to be reckoned, but more on that later.

Our contact in Phandalin, Sildar Halwinter, pointed us toward a group of adventurers in search of one Cragmaw Castle. He stated they had rescued him recently and been effectively dealing with a troublesome gang called the Redbrands who had been harrassing the town. The castle itself had apparently been overrun with a goblin tribe working along with Redbrands. I was shocked to learn that the leader of the Red-brands was actually a traitor to the Lords' Alliance. Sildar filled me in about Gundren Rockseeker, a dwarf who had gone missing and might have a lead on Wave Echo Cave. The adventurers were presently trying to locate Gundren; it was feared he may be in mortal danger, if not murdered already.

We set out this morning, good portents in mind, and found them without much difficulty. Nolwë aided our efforts to locate the adventurers admirably, though her hunger struck at an unfortunate moment—I thought she might help me listen in on their conversation, but a murine delicacy appeared and caused her to reveal herself quite conspicuously as my familiar. One of their number, a female elf was quick to draw her bow as soon as she saw us; these are not the safest lands, so I understand it somewhat, but if we are to partner, I must encourage her not to be too quick to provoke potentially powerful enemies—although a showdown between her and Agnes would have been some spectacle. Nevertheless, three of the four were cool headed enough to first use words over weapons.

We introduced ourselves as representatives of the Lords’ Alliance, Abenthy Laphroaig from Silverymoon and Agnes Aberlour from Waterdeep, and then learned their names as well, as I shall detail momentarily. I should make a notation that they hinted at several interesting encounters recently. I do not have many details yet, but I was especially interested in their encounters with a green dragon they claimed to slay and a red-cloaked wizard apparently practicing necromancy, whom they left alone. I sense there may yet be a confrontation with that necromancer, whom the party believed to be a Red Wizard of Thay. For the time being there was other business which needed attending. After several exchanges of wit, we came to an agreement to cooperate and set onward toward Cragmaw Castle, which turned out to be a makeshift outpost of goblins and hobgoblins in the employ of a nefarious individual known as the Black Spider, as Glasstaff also apparently had been.

I do not know if the aforementioned aggressive elf would agree, but the halfling named Finnan seemed to me to be their leader. At the very least, he led the way in promoting discourse betwixt us. Finnan is a bard, and though he did not communicate to me his schooling, I suspect he has a connection to the Weave through the Feywild. He spoke of “The Great Stories” and suggested a frontal assault on the keep—not because it offered a strategic advantage but because, as he put it “so many great stories involve marching right through the front door.” I found myself involuntarily placing my hand to my forehead at this and muttering a mild oath under my breath. Despite this, he was the one who suggested we put the tactical options to a vote and he made no efforts to overturn the fact that four out of the six of us wanted to enter the side door we located. I found it intriguing to watch him when the fighting began. Without a doubt his songs were inspiring, and I found myself vitalized and more fleet of foot than usual. One might think it unwise to start playing a lute mid-battle, but magic can be a funny thing. My proposal of a stealthy approach had already been thwarted by this point, so using every available resource seemed wise. Lest I paint a picture that he entered the fray with naught but a lute, let me state he also had skill with a rapier; however, his compatriots seemed surprised when he unsheathed it.

Another elf, much more soft-spoken, was also in this party. He introduced himself as Aief. I did not recognize his name as being typically elvish and he must have noticed a quizzical expression on my countenance, as he then provided an addendum: his name comes from the dwarvish language. I asked how he came to have a dwarvish name, but indicated that was a tale for another time. I respected this and did not push further. I trust I shall learn soon enough. Aief struck me as one who has trained religiously in the martial arts, both unarmed and with blades. He bore a quarterstaff and scimitar and wielded them effectively. I did not sense the same malice as I did in the other elf though. He moved with both measured steps and grace. One might have wondered why we so readily joined with this band of adventurers, especially when one of their number greeted us with hostility. In truth, seeing Aief amongst them played no small role, for you see I received a portent before we set off. In my dreams,I had clearly seen Aief striking a down a grick, though of course within the dream I did not know his name. Once I actually met Aief, the very elf I saw as I slept, I knew destiny awaited. Indeed, as foretold, Aief delivered a fatal blow to a grick within the keep, after I weakened it. I anticipate we will be able to work well together.

Berien was the third to introduce himself. Berien had several elven features, but as he stood next to two elves, it was clear he was also half-human. I imagine it to be most challenging to straddle two such dramatically different worlds. To hardly age as your human family and friends grow old must be a heavy burden. But that is compounded with maturing at a much more rapid pace than pure elves, certainly creating a restlessness that must be difficult to contain. I can see why many half-elves gravitate toward a career of adventuring. Where else can they turn after all? But I digress. Berien was a curiosity, and not merely for his race. No, he was remarkable for his unpredictability. He reminded me of a pirate, with how he moved about and brandished a rapier. Hopefully he is of stronger moral character than the pirates about whom I have read. I do suspect there is some redemptive quality within him. I also noticed he seemed to have a certain respect for the halfling. In the midst of the fighting, he was rendered unconscious and I suspect he very nearly died, but the bard was able to reach him before it was too late. Perhaps this has been a recurring theme in their own adventures, accounting for his respect. I did not bear witness to how he managed to get himself hurt. What I do know is that he had tried to scout a room and as soon he entered it, debris came crashing down blocking his return. He later came screaming through a different entrance, bloodied and with tattered clothing. Finnan helped him revitalize, and again he was off like a bolt from a ballista, promptly screaming again once out of my sight. When Finnan and I were able to reach him, he was downed and in mortal danger from multiple hobgoblins. We were able to fight them off while Finnan stabilized him. As an aside, I noticed he seemed to have a sword imbued with magical properties, but he did not actually use it, opting instead for his rapier. I found this most curious.

My initial impression is that these four adventurers are quite capable, especially if their claims of slaying a green dragon are true, though I’m concerned about the impetuousness of the elven woman, Lyria. Ostensibly a ranger, she is fierce and indeed today she was indomitable, but she is unlike any ranger I’ve known—rather she reminds me of a barbarian on a warpath. She was irrationally celebratory when faced with opportunity for battle against the goblins and hobgoblins; I do suppose hobgoblins are infamous for their cruelty, especially toward elves, so it was not entirely unmerited that they receive the wrath of her war instruments. Still, I worry she will charge forward at the wrong time and put not only herself in unnecessary peril, but also the other members of the party who might not be so sturdy. I found that there was one time she acted particularly irresponsibly. While the rest of the party had agreed to try a stealthy approach, she brazenly approached an arrow slit—which, mind you, I had obfuscated with an illusion so as to mask our approach—and started blindly launching arrows into it. Somehow, this did not alert the goblins who seemed more concerned about a cruel manager of a hobgoblin who was barking orders at them. Once the fighting began in earnest, she was a frontline soldier, alternating between using her bow and using her sword, both to tremendous effect. If she can be trusted—and perhaps convinced to work more tactically—she may prove a very valuable ally. One item I did notice especially: she wore a belt I readily identified as an arcane artifact that I believe gives her preternatural strength. When time allows, I must ask her how she came across such a wondrous thing.

As for Agnes, my travel companion of the past few weeks, she was like a spring sunrise after a long winter, piercing the veil of night. She gallantly put herself on the front line, shield in one hand, sword in the other. Once, she commanded one goblin to stop in its tracks, and it had no choice but to obey. Another time, as I had seen in another vision, she delivered a blow so thunderous that it would have made Talos envious. She was restless at times and looked to press ever forward, but she was never reckless. While we were making acquaintance with the others, I overheard Lyria jest about me having a bodyguard. Agnes is certainly a guardian, no doubt, but not just of me. No, she has a great destiny ahead of her. She will undoubtedly be a mighty bastion standing firm against the tide of evil.

After we cleared the kitchen and multiple hobgoblin patrols, we were able to take several minutes to process our surroundings. Returning to the chamber in which the grick had attacked Aief, we recognized that it had been a sort of shrine in the past. Berien located a small golden statuette which I noticed as having magical properties. I called upon my arcanabula to perform a brief ritual to identify the magic while the others kept watch. Interestingly, the statuette was enchanted with the spell known as augury. One can imagine why it would catch my particular interest. The statue bore the form of a sun elf. It might be a random treasure hidden here by one of the goblins, or I suppose it could be a remnant from when certain gods were worshipped here—namely Lathander, god of dawn—as Berien seemed to suggest. When time allows, I’d like to do some more research. At first, only I, Aief, and Berien knew about finding it. We resolved to discuss it with Finnan and Agnes when possible, but agreed it might be best not to include Lyria just yet for fear that she might, in her impatience, waste its magic.

#d&d #d&d 5e #d&d character #roleplay #ttrpg #ttrpg character #d&d 5e character #in character #rp journal #LMoP #Forgotten Realms #Toril #Faerun

1 note · View note

mattyslittleworld · 5 years

Text

Snowbirds & Townies

1:42 am / Tick Tock Diner 34th & 8th Ave New York City. I don’t know what keeps bringing me back here. I was in Hoboken and grabbed my skateboard and hopped the path into the 9th street station in Manhattan. As soon as I got above ground it was snowing. Blizzard shit. I skated in the snow over to Union Square to see the punks but it was ghost. So from there I got lost in my headphones and skated all the way up 20 streets to 34th. The most free I’ve felt in awhile. I want to be so far from music. So far from anything and anybody I’ve ever known. It felt like I was a different person. Music isolates me, especially now, and it leaves me depressed and alone. During these dark lows I would stay at Bepa’s and talk to him in the kitchen over coffee and then hop the train to the ferry - into manhattan and get lost in a fake identity. Be whoever I want. Start over just for a little. But here I am, again. At the same diner that I lived above before I started touring heavy as a kid. Right before I took my first swing. The same closet sized room I’d leave late night and meet all my friends and just run wild in the city spray painting, skating, and terrorizing. But secretly deep down, hurting. Wanting something more. Edge of offing myself. Wanting companionship. Wanting love. Wanting to get the fuck out. Wanting everything I have now - and will have. I’m back here only difference is I worked with Cage. I sang for Shai Hulud, I’ve gained the respect and shared the stage with everyone I looked up to, I toured 14 countries, I worked with every top respectable rapper from the east coast, I’ve sold out shows, I released the album I wrote here, I did a song and video with Danny Clinch, I did a song with Jesse Malin, I played with HR from Bad Brains, ive played a sold out show at The Stone Pony (without an album), ive played a sold out show at The Bowery Ballroom, ive sang Clash songs with Brian Fallon and Craig from The Hold Steady - I’ve done everything I ever wanted to do sitting in that room. I fell in love then out of love then back in love with my high school crush. I’ve been heart broken. Shooting the music video with Danny Clinch was intense for me. He’s become my bro and I’m mad grateful for his friendship, but damn was that wild. I was on a 3 day run. I hung out with a beautiful lady and passed out in my jeans after she stuffed my face with orange soda and candy and made me watch Ryan Gosling fuck a doll. I stayed up till like 5 am. Woke up in my clothes at like 7 am two hours later. Had the video shoot at noon and I was mad far from my house. Woke up shot up north with my Dunkin and picked up Rob. SOOOOO TIRED and sick from the soda and candy. Changed real quick and went to the studio where we shot the video. We set up the scene for 2 hours and got angles and then Danny got there and I’m tipping over tired and flustered from this pretty girl. We shot for a half hour then took a break and I was nodding off on the floor during the break. Came back and killed off the video by a piano. After that me and Rob were mind blown over this goal being accomplished. Gratitude isn’t even the word. Next day I get hit by Tsu Surf with a time and place for a session last minute so me and rob drop our shit and shoot over and bang out this hit song that’s got a summer vibe that I made off the influence of this pretty girl. He killed it. I’m an actual fan of him so it was mad cool we could get in the room together and knock this out. That was the first time ive ever collabed in a “Industry” setting where its all bout business - very corporate. I had to adjust to that environment and put a suit on. Times like those make you realize your love for music, your passion, and your “art” simply just don't matter. These managers and shit just don't give a fuck about your grandpa dying and the song you made out of it, or the girl you love and the song you made out of it - they're like yeah fuck yourself lets get money - and you have to jump in or jump out. I jumped in and learned my place. It’s wild to think of what he’s been through over the past few years. Getting out of prison for attempted murder then getting lit up 5 times, surviving, and then while you’re healing you make a tape and it goes up the charts to number 2 in a day, unsigned. Mad funny seeing local level bands desperate to get signed - they don't even know what that means now. My pleasure to work my man, I salute you with honor and respect. After that session I went home and took a week off, after non stop grinding for the past 2 years. The Danny Clinch video shoot right into the Tsu Surf session killed me off. In Surfs studio I couldn’t even keep my head up. I’m so burnt out. What am I searching for here at this diner? What is my soul lacking? What is my heart lacking? I spend many nights here alone, staring out this window drinking coffee. Missing Bepa. Missing people. Missing a certain time of my life when everything was free. But not in a I need to get a life and move on kind of way. It’s not pathetic. I have moved on. I did get a life. I did pretty damn good on my own. I got it from the mud. So why look back? It’s hard for me to mix my social personal life with people I know from music. They don’t know the memories I have, they don’t give a shit. They don’t know anything about me. They don’t want to find that liberating freedom that I am searching for when I come to this diner - that I had when I lived here. I still don't want to get drunk or high. I don't want to watch you get drunk. You could be sober and grinding with a clear head. I want to spend time with people like that. Gorilla promotion. Animalistic work ethic. The snow is coming down fierce and I gotta skate back to the path to go back to Hoboken, then drive all the way home. I won’t be home for awhile. Hopefully till the sun comes up. I want to be lost. I want to be gone. I want to be bliss. I want to walk into this pharmacy across the street again and get cherry coke 12ozs and just sit on my bed and watch blacklisted videos on YouTube. I want to go to pen station and grab a soda and a magazine and take the LIRR to a hardcore show and not get home till the next morning. Strung out after a night of fucking mayhem and laughing. Love, friends, and just fucking beauty. We can still be beautiful. After the money - you can still be whoever the fuck you want. Let’s be beautiful and reckless and never sleep. I love my life. I hate my life. I’m happy. I’m depressed. I want to live. I want to die. I am alive. I am dead. Now on the train back home, braved the blizzard. I noticed a void in how music has been touching me lately. Anything hip hop related seemed stale. Any Americana or folk seemed dead and expired. Rock n roll boring. Even heavy hardcore was horrible. I ended up in a wormhole of bands like Thursday and From Autumn To Ashes. Poison The Well, even weirdo shit like It Dies Today. Folly really hit me hard. I have specific memories to these records and they’re so beautiful and god damn I miss these people. Being in middle school and debating the differences between FATA and PTW. As I’m typing this I just got noticed on the path train for music and they complemented my shattered realm hoodie and I showed him I was listening to from first to last and he died laughing. He said he heard my career was “bumping” and I’m sitting here soaking wet freezing and hungry on a train in all black curled up in a ball around my skateboard. Emily by FFTL is the best song ever written. Even better than Bob Dylan. Fight me.

1 note · View note

barmcakemag · 3 years

Text

Halifax Festival of Words talk

This is the talk I gave at the Halifax Festival of Words. It took place in the front room of the Grayston Unity bar (pictured below) last month, just before publication of Barmcake 9. Some of the posters from the talk are also pictured below. Thanks to the festival and bar for having me.

I love this front room.

It sort of reminds me of being a kid, at my grandparents, on Boxing Day.

Some of the family used to get up and do a turn – a song, a sketch, a tune.

Among the aunties and uncles was my Great Aunty Mary, who was great in all respects. She was very funny, wrote poetry – and was the spitting image of Hylda Baker, (poster below), who I’ll be coming to later.

I didn’t have an uncle like Lou Reed – fortunately.

That would have made Christmas a bit tense.

‘Uncle Lou, you’ve spilt heroin on your roast potatoes again.’

Anyway, I’ll be coming on to the Velvet Underground later as well.

So, I��m Dave Griffiths and I make Barmcake.

The magazine started in April 2014 and the new edition – issue 9 – is out next week.

There are usually two editions a year. I only brought one out last year because I was busy with my other work – I’m a freelance writer, editor, proofreader and journalism tutor.

Barmcake is available free in about 45 venues in West Yorkshire, Greater Manchester, Sheffield, and North Derbyshire. You can also obtain copies by post, if you send a donation.

I write all – or all but one or two – of the articles in each edition. I also design the magazine, edit it, find the advertising, sort the fundraising, promote it, and deliver it.

This afternoon I’m going to be telling you why I make a print magazine in the digital age.

And why I make this particular magazine, which I believe is different from anything else out there.

(I know it’s definitely the only one that offers northern entertainment for the middle-aged.)

I’ll also tell you how I make an issue from scratch.

There are high points about making Barmcake – interviewing people like John Cooper Clarke, Viv Albertine, and Ken Dodd.

But there are perils about making a magazine on your own – for example when my computer packed in a week or so before deadline for issue 8 and I had redo the pages from scratch

I’ll also tell you about the money side of things.

I’m happy to take any questions at the end. Although don’t ask me anything about maths. The square of the hypotenuse is worth two in the bush, or whatever.

I’ve been a journalist since 1989.

I’ve worked for all the ridiculously-named weekly newspapers – the Congleton Chronicle, the Biddulph Chronicle, the Ormskirk Advertiser, the Wigan Observer.

I’ve never been a Woodward and Bernstein-type journalist. I used to love doing golden wedding anniversary interviews – finding out about people’s lives. (The secret for most couples is: ‘Never go to bed on an argument’).

I moved to London in the mid-90s and became a sub-editor. Then I came back up north to Leeds to work for PA New Media’s Ananova website as a sub and writer. It was a really exciting time to be part of a new national media organisation.

At that point the digital world seem to offer limitless possibilities – a chance to hear fresh voices and cover things that didn’t get much attention on a national platform

But as it went on – on Ananova and elsewhere – the choice of topics became narrower and the coverage shallower.

It felt like a missed opportunity and after a few years, I left to become a sub on the Manchester Evening News print edition.

That disillusionment with the digital world fed into the creation of Barmcake. I even stopped doing my own blog, which is a sort of forerunner of the magazine.

I feel websites lack the personal touch of magazines and newspapers. Each edition of Barmcake is yours to hold, to savour, to read how you want. It’s not borrowed on a screen in a clutter of links and dowdy, keyword-heavy headlines.

Print is more personal.

I was reminded of that a few years ago when I was flicking through a paper, turned the page and there was a two-page picture spread of the inside of a doll’s house – with fantastic detail of each room

Now, if that had been a website link – say ‘See the amazing doll’s house, click here’ – I probably wouldn’t have looked at it.

But the photo, text and design on the printed edition stopped me in my tracks.

And it was me who chose to stop and look at it, not a website trying to guide me

Of course, I can’t do Barmcake without digital media.

I can get instant access to performers and venues via their websites and email addresses.

And Twitter is a great promotional tool.

Even the front page of each Barmcake is partially designed that way so it looks good on Twitter.

Crucially, it’s how you use all that information available on the internet.

And I think many websites, magazines and newspapers aren’t making the most of it. They are picking from the same narrow pool of stories.

Meanwhile arts coverage in regional newspapers – with a few notable exceptions – is not as good as it used to be.

Some newspaper bosses are so pleased they can offer the same size newspapers as 10 years ago with half the staff, they forget about the quality of the editorial content.

When I look at some of the free lifestyle magazines in shops and pubs, the editorial content seems to be a shoddy afterthought.

And some website and magazine interviews are written by people who don’t appear to know anything about their interviewees, beyond what the PR company has told them

So that’s another reason why I started Barmcake – I want the articles to be the top priority.

I don’t stint on research and writing and rewriting.

For a two-page article in issue 8, for example, I read four books and endlessly wrote and rewrote the article.

They were four books about The Fall so it wasn’t the worst thing ever.

Hashtag firstworldindieproblems

Pete Wylie was another reason I started Barmcake.

I read he was crowdfunding to make a new LP which to me was huge news.

But I couldn’t find much about it in magazines, newspapers and websites.

Now I’ve got Northern entertainment for the middle-aged in my strapline.

But I hate some middle-aged people’s attitudes to new bands, the sort of people who say: ‘Well, of course, they sound a bit like the Velvet Underground but they are not as good as them – and I speak as someone who has a 23-minute out-take of John Cale whittling a spoon.’

But having said that, there are artistes aged 40 and upwards – like Pete Wylie – whose work is either being ignored or under-appreciated, while some fairly dull, conservative, twentysomething bands are lauded to the hilt, merely because of their age.

I also felt audiences aged 40 and over were being ignored by many websites and magazines – the sort of people, for example, who might live in West Yorkshire but travel to gigs or comedy shows in Sheffield and Manchester (hence my circulation area).

People who like a nice real ale pub, a good book and trips to theatres and galleries.

Those were the subjects I wanted to write about.

Plus I wanted to provide a decent listings service.

I used to love looking at City Life and Time Out and picking out gigs I wanted to see.

Can you do that on the internet? Not really, unless you want to wade through lists of venues or dates of gigs.

Barmcake is also a reaction against magazine shops like Magma and websites like Stack and Magculture.

They only consider design-led, rather than text-led, magazines (spoof trendy mag, above).

Their view, unfortunately, seems to dominate the indie-mag culture.

The Magma magazines are beautiful, for sure, but slightly formulaic – lots of photos, lots of white space.

Some of the articles can be slightly sterile and desperately in need of an edit.

I was brought up on 80s NME and Sounds with writers like Steven ‘Seething’ Wells and his hectic, hectoring, hilarious prose, which is completely at odds with something you’d read in, say, Monocle.

Word magazine and Forty-20, a rugby league magazine, are other influences as they put – or did put in the case of Word – witty text first, before the design.

So a year before I left the MEN, I was thinking about going freelance and starting a magazine.

I went on a Guardian course about how to make one.

I wanted to know if I could make a magazine on my laptop and how much it would cost.

But the course wasn’t particularly helpful about either the basics of making a magazine or the money side of it.

And I realised I had a lot to learn when I went to a printer in Manchester after I went freelance.

I wanted someone to guide me about the basics of the printing process.

At the MEN, you simply had to press a button to send it to the printers. The page sizes, colours, etc were all set up for you.

So I came bounding into the shop, all enthusiastic, to be met by this spectacularly miserable bloke.

I said: ‘I’m going to make my own magazine and I was just wondering what I need to do.’

He said: ‘How many pages?’

‘Er..I don’t know, about 35.’

Shakes head: ‘You can’t have that number. What type of paper do you want?’

‘Er…I don’t know, just standard magazine paper.’

‘What sort of paper do you want for the front?’

‘Er…I don’t know.’

‘Do you want colour or black or white?

‘A mix of colour and black and white.’

‘Which pages are colour?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

I left the shop with my tail between my legs; my hopes not exactly crushed but dented.

Fortunately, I discovered the Footprint Workers Co-operative in Leeds who were very helpful and answered all my daft questions with patience.

I can definitely recommend them if you are starting your own magazine or fanzine.

So I had an idea of what I was going to cover (music, comedy, pubs, theatre, books. film, art).

I had an idea of how I was going to write it (make the writing as good as it can be, keep the articles short)

I wanted to target an over 40s audience living in and around Leeds, Sheffield and Manchester, (although I don’t mind who reads it -– I’m not going to tell a youth with a fashionable beard to ‘put the Barmcake down sunshine’)

I wanted to keep the design simple and retro (the headlines are meant to look like 70s sitcom credits).

And I wanted to make it as cheaply as possible – so I would do all or most of the writing, as I couldn’t pay anyone else, and I would deliver it.

I found a free design program (called Scribus) and I only use publicity photos or photos that I take myself.

I don’t charge for Barmcake because I want to get the magazines in the sorts of pubs, cafes and independent shops where people like to read books, newspapers and magazines.

In these sorts of places, most of the other magazines and newspapers are free.

Keeping it free also means less hassle for the owners of the pubs and cafes – no separate pots of money to keep etc.

I wanted a funny northern word for the title and Barmcake fits the bill.

There’s also the ‘You starting a print magazine in the internet age? You Barmcake!’

‘Northern entertainment for the middle-aged’ gives some idea of what the magazine’s about, but it is not entirely serious.

I don’t want to go down the professional northerner route:

(Hovis voice):‘Eeeeeeeh, we’re all right friendly in t’ north.

‘London? They never speak to anyone.’

I’m always up for challenging northernness, because let’s face it – some of the world’s most miserable people are in Yorkshire!

I also didn’t want to get stuck in a straight, white, indie, male, middle-aged rut where The Smiths, The Fall or Half Man Half Biscuit can never be criticised.

And where it would be blasphemous to suggest that Temptation by Heaven 17 is better than Temptation by New Order.

Barmcake is A5 because I wanted something that people can fit in their pocket or bag when they are out and about and it only costs a first class stamp to post a copy.

Apart from postage, my other costs are printing and petrol.

So I need to find about £850 for each issue.

Initially I used some of my voluntary redundancy money from the MEN and money from my other work to pay for the magazine.

I started seeking advertising from issue 2 onwards.

My advertising revenue has gone up from £60 in issue 2 to £630 in issue 8.

It will be more than that in the new edition.

I feel that if you give people something to read, then they don’t just flick through the magazine and so they are more likely to see the adverts.

I am pleased that plan appears to be paying off.

But, it’s tricky balancing the amount of time you spend on editorial and advertising.

On some issues, I’ve left the advertising a little too late because I wanted to get the editorial right.

But, if I spend too much time on the advertising, I may get more ads in the short term, but I won’t keep the advertisers in the long term as the quality of the magazine will drop.

I set up a Paypal account for donations, which you can access via my website, and that brings in between £150 and £200 per issue, so I was more or less able to cover my costs for the first time for issue 8.

I also sent some copies to Australia for the first last time.

However I’d like to bring in more money through donations.

So I’ll go through how the magazine has developed over the years.

Here are some bits from Issue 1 (above).

That issue had interviews with Cud, the Wedding Present, the director of a Frank Sidebottom doc, and the Revolutions Brewing Company owners, among others.

Features included Maxine Peake, a pub crawl on the Tour de France Yorkshire route, and Alan Bennett.

I did ask for interviews with Maxine and Alan.

With Alan, Faber and Faber gave a curious response – not no, but: (Alan Bennett voice): ‘Mr Bennett is aware of your interest.’

(I like to think everyone at Faber speaks with an Alan Bennett accent).

I was hoping perhaps that they were giving him potential material for his diary.

That would be the dream for me: (Alan Bennett voice): ‘I used to be contacted by the Guardian, but now it’s only bread-related magazines.’

In general I find about 75% of people I contact agree to interviews.

I was excited to get the first issue out.

There were 1,000 copies for that, it’s been 1,500 copies from issue 2 onwards

There was a good response to Barmcake 1 – the title, strapline and the front cover probably made the biggest impact.

But in hindsight I felt the interviews were too short and there were too many, fairly ordinary, one-page previews.

I addressed those issues for Barmcake 2 by making most of the interviews two or three pages long and sticking about 6-7 previews on two pages at the back – and that’s been the format ever since.

So issue 2 (above) had interviews with Viv Albertine, Pete Wylie, Age of Chance, Steve Huison, among others.

My friend Richard wrote about why Otley is better than Prague for beer.

He has also done Bluetones and Skids interviews in other issues.

My friend Roshi has written about David Bowie and Count Arthur Strong.

And Prue, my wife, has interviewed Bryony Lavery and done a piece on the theatre company she co-founded – Root and Branch Productions (more northern entertainment for the middle-aged).

I’ve only used one feature from a writer I didn’t know as I want to be in a position to pay people for their work.

Viv Albertine was one of my most important interviews I’ve done for Barmcake.

It’s one of the most popular pieces with readers and it encouraged other artistes to get in touch.

I thought her book was one of the best memoirs/autobiographies I’d read, yet many of the reviews concentrated on the Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious anecdotes and didn’t focus enough on her fascinating life.

She answered my questions within a day (some people take nearly 2 months) and I was really chuffed she’d taken the trouble to give such interesting answers.

For example I asked her: Was punk the only time she’d come across so many strong and interesting characters?

She said: “God no. Those people weren’t that strong and interesting. Vivienne Westwood was.

“We were all very flawed. But at least we didn’t hide our flaws, we flaunted them.

“I would say it was the only time in my life when you were allowed to be yourself, not smiling and saying thank you all the time.

“Not greasing the wheels and aspiring and careerist.”

The Ken Dodd interview, from issue 5, in 2016 was also a highlight.

Here’s an extract:

He was fizzing with jokes and anecdotes.

When I mentioned I was from Huddersfield, he immediately recited a limerick about the town involving udders.

He told me an interviewer once asked if Dodd was his real name and he told him it was an anagram.

While I took that in, he’s onto the next joke.

I was also fascinated with how works an audience.

He said: “You play an audience like a musician plays his instrument.

“You know where the hotspots are, you know where you’ve got to work hard on them when they’re a bit stubborn, you know where to flirt with them, where to encourage them, and where to take it easy.

“You put little ad libs in, little asides, go faster, slower, louder, quieter, take it easy.”

So it was great to interview Ken and it was great to interview John Cooper Clarke for the same issue.

The interview was difficult to set up but turned out well.

I was meant to be interviewing him at a gig in Buxton but my car broke down and I couldn’t get to the gig in time on the train.

The angle I went on was his accent – whether it was the most important thing about his work and whether living in Essex for 25 odd years had affected it.

Here’s an extract:

“Accent? I don’t think it’s at all important. It’s what the work contains.

“I don’t think the accent’s got anything to do with it.

“I think vocal quality might have something to do with it, as in musicality.

“Listening to my old stuff it sounds like I’ve got a problem with my adenoids, and it can’t be that because I had my adenoids removed when I was about eight-years-old.

“To be honest, I think my voice is better than it’s ever been.

“But that’s not because of the accent, it’s because of the sonorous baritone quality.”

And of course, I can’t think of anyone else who says ‘sonorous baritone quality’ quite like John Cooper Clarke – stretching the vowels and punctuating the words so they got a real rhythm., He makes run-of the mill words sound magnificent.

Issue 3, (above), had interviews with, among others, John Shuttleworth, John Bramwell, O’Hooley and Tidow, the organiser of the Glossop Record Club, and Professor Paul Salveson, who talked about railways and northern regionalism.

The latter is an example how I’ve occasionally moved away from my core subjects as I think it would interest readers.

In issue 7 I interviewed the marvellous Beers Manchester blogger who wrote about dealing with grief after his son died.

And in issue 8 I talked to Rosie Wilby who has written a really interesting book about monogamy.

One of the things I’ve enjoyed about Barmcake is finding out about wonderful artistes I didn’t know much about, like O’Hooley and Tidow, and looking into topics I’ve not really thought about much, such as non-monogamous relationships – and record clubs.

Glossop Record Club was the first of the groups or people I featured from Twitter.

I noticed the people who started following me were doing some interesting and unusual stuff.

In other issues I’ve done features on 8bitnorthxstitch, (pictured below) who makes fabulous cross-stitch creations of bands such as The Fall and TV shows such as Coronation Street

There’s Beer Mat Movies, who writes film reviews on beer mats

And Jennifer Reid, or as she calls herself, the pre-eminent broadside balladress of the Manchester region.

In Issue 4, I decided to make a few tweaks to the structure with a picture-led centrespread and a bigger listings section.

I don’t want the magazine to date so my listings look up to four months ahead.

The listings are usually the first and last thing I do in the magazine.

I look at every gig venue, theatre, and gallery website in my circulation area, looking for potential star interviews, cover stars and centrespreads.

I listen to bands I’ve not heard of before who are playing at these venues.

Artistes are also contacting me now and I use three or four stories an issue from them

Once I get two or three big interviews, the rest of the magazine falls into place.

I feel it’s a bit like organising a festival – you need headliners plus strong supporting acts.

And once I get the headliners, I start looking for advertisers.

I have a mix of regular and new advertisers.

I then ask all my stockists, I ask local brewers and some businesses who follow me on Twitter.

Most of my interviews are by email, the rest are phone interviews although I did one face-to-face chat with Martin Parr.

There is always a mad panic at the end of each issue , either because of a missing interview or ad, but all you can do is politely grovel with people to please, please, please in send the material.

As it’s just me making the magazine, there are no back-up features, no IT team to deal with technical problems, such as converting pdfs to jpgs.

Fortunately I’ve always managed to fill an issue in the end.

Once I’ve written and rewritten my pieces, I go back and check everything – the original source material, fact checks, spell checks.

The issue is then proofread by Prue and then by one of our friends.

I don’t want a daft literal or incorrect name to undermine the magazine, especially as Barmcake takes about two months to do, on and off, between my other work.

My printer then gives me a final proof before it goes to press and I get it back within a week.

The new Barmcake is due out midweek next week.

I like to do a big reveal on the day of publication but I can tell you it is the biggest Barmcake ever, with 9 exclusive interviews, more than any before, and 5 features – including Hylda Baker.

It takes me four days to deliver the copies.

I cover an area bordered by Wigan, Ilkley and Sheffield.

The list of venues is on the website, although it will change slightly over the next few days. Venues ask to be stockists and readers also recommend places.

I keep about 300 copies back for people who want a copy in the post, and for friends and media people.

Then I do a Twitter promo campaign for about 2-3 weeks.

I only put one article per issue online and I only do that months after the issue comes out.

In February, I start on a new issue.

It will be the fifth anniversary issue and a chance to take stock.

Ideally I’d like to be making more money for it, getting regular sponsorship from a suitable partner, and in the long term looking to pay others to write.

But anyway, that’s the story of Barmcake.

I hope you have enjoyed it

#magazines journalism

5 notes · View notes