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calumrose · 3 years

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There’s No Place Like Home || C.H

A//N: Let’s just say I’ve not been doing so good since Calum posted that tiktok two days ago... And this is what became of that <3 Also, this might just be the smallest thing I’ve ever written so it’s feels very unfinished to me although it is actually done. Anyway, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Word Count: 1.8k

The morning sun was low as Calum ventured outside, the neck of his guitar securely in his grasp as he took a steady step down onto the smooth stone path which surrounded his home. The golden glow cascaded across the garden around him, shadows being painted across his surroundings as they danced in the gentle morning breeze. The sun provided a welcomed warmth to his back as he edged towards the small decking area where he usually kept his gym equipment for workouts.

He held a mug in his hand as he sat himself down, palm curled around the pale ceramic as he lifted it to his lips to take a tentative sip of the bitter brew. His tongue touched his lip as the scalding liquid stung his sensitive skin, leaving a fresh pinch-like feeling behind as he lowered the mug from his face and placed it down next to him. He swallowed his mouthful of the warm coffee, his taste buds bouncing in delight at the shot of caffeine that was entering his system. Coffee was the only way to start his day according to Calum.

Or so that’s how it used to be.

Looking over to his left, his chin tilting just barely so he could catch a glimpse, his eyes fell to the soft shadows which lay beyond the thin curtains that hung behind the open door that led out into the garden. Small glimpses of you being captured as the soft morning breeze blew, causing the curtains to split and small snapshots of the sight he loved become clear to his eyes.

A smile graced his face as he made out the soft shapes as they moved behind the curtain, the golden light shining against them only to bring out the darkened contrast of the shadow of the body which stood not too far behind it. Every movement was graceful through the curtain, the smooth lines of your body as it moved came across like that of a dance, the gentle lifting of your arm looking like a delicate petal of a rose that flew in the soft breeze.

His eyes were mesmerised as they set on your silhouette through the net curtains, his smile never fading as he watched the gentle movement of your legs as you swayed in place. He knew you weren’t alone, the faded sight of your craned neck looking downwards as your own eyes settled upon the small body that lay peacefully in your arms. He wondered how long she would continue to sleep for, her small body being removed from her crib in the early hours when you both arose from your slumber upon the sound of her soft cries. It wasn’t long before she drifted back to sleep to the gentle sound of your heartbeat as you prepared some morning coffee for yourself and Calum.

Setting the guitar on his lap, the curve of the wood bending so it rested comfortably on his thigh, Calum’s thumb slowly began to brush against the delicate strings. He allowed for his fingers to be placed along the neck of the guitar, knuckles bending as the pads of his fingertips pressed against the strings as he played the familiar chords he had known since he was young.

A familiar acoustic melody filled the peaceful morning, the plants which littered the dirt along the fence gently blowing in the soft breeze. It was a sound that reminded him of the journey that had led him to where he found himself, what twists and turns he had taken throughout his life that had led him to find himself living a life that he could only have dreamed of living.

The soft words fell from his lips as he continued to play, the familiar lyrics lacing together as they left his tongue in a soft voice as he looked out into the golden rays of the sun as they danced and painted the garden in a beautiful light. The garden had always been a little getaway for the two of you, finding yourselves laying out there as the sun would set at dusk, eyes cast upwards to the sky as you’d watch the shades of orange and red brush across the wide-open canvas. You hoped that one day you’d be able to show your daughter the wonders of the world, to be able to bring her out and sit with her to watch as the sky changed colour, pointing up to the descending sun and waving it a warm goodbye before welcoming the blue moon in its place.

Lyrics slowly turned into mumbles, a soft hum sounding from within his throat as he gently bobbed his head to the rhythm he was creating with his hands. His eyes closed momentarily as he lost himself in the song, his lips curling as memories danced across his mind. Memories of days on the road, memories of late nights spent tucked away in small bunks, and memories of sweet kisses before running off onto stage to the sound of fans calling their name. The song held a lot of memories, most of them happy, some not so, but all of them important, nonetheless. They held memories of days spent with his brothers, days spent with his family, of days spent with you. Those were days he never wanted to forget.

Opening his eyes, Calum looked back towards the open door, the thin curtain having been pulled open so the sunlight could break through the open frame. He could see into the house from where he sat, the strip of sunlight stretching across the wooden floor as far as he could see inside. You were still in his eyeline, your body still gently swaying with every small step you took as you walked around the room. He noticed how your eyes were still settled upon the small body in your arms, your lips curled upwards as they moved and silent words were spoken into the air. He wondered what you were saying, what words you were speaking to the sweet girl who slept against your chest. He wondered if he would ever know the conversation that you shared with her, if he would ever gain knowledge into the private whispers and small giggles that escaped in the moments you stole with her in the times when Calum wasn’t around.

He watched with warm, kind eyes as one of your hands brushed her supple cheek, a finger curling at the second knuckle as you allowed for your skin to brush against hers. The blanket she was wrapped him hung from your arms, soft corners hanging in the air and brushing against your legs with every step that you took. He smiled at how the sleeves of the — his — sweatshirt you wore were slightly bunched up at your wrists, the fabric almost ballooning around your arm due to the size. He took in the tired lines that had pressed into your face, ones that he was sure matched his own, but they were marks that you each came to wear with pride. They were marks of parenthood.

His smile grew once more as he watched you turn, your body moving towards the open door, your feet coming to a gentle halt just before the doorway. You kept her shielded from the crisp morning air, your sweatshirt-clad arms tucked around her as the oversized fabric acted as a warm wall to protect her from a threatening chill. He could just make out the details of her as you came to the door, his eyes finding the delicate features of her face and feeling how his heart leaped at the sight. She was so precious to see, her eyes closed, and little hands clenched into small fists as they gripped onto the fabric of the sweatshirt that adorned your body.

“I like the summer rain, I like the sounds you make,” Calum’s voice gently carried out into the morning air as he sang the chorus for a final time, eyes remaining set on the sight of his sleeping daughter as he sang, “We put the world away, we get so disconnected.”

Slowly raising his gaze, his eyes came to meet yours. The sight of your smile made his heart feel like it could burst, the slight push up of your cheeks as your eyes were soft as they connected with his. He felt his heart flutter as he continued to sing, fingers strumming the melody of a song he knew you loved to hear, even after all the years. He watched as your body swayed still, your movements in time with the soft strumming on his fingers against the delicate strings of the guitar in his lap.

Eyes never tearing from yours, Calum watched as your lips moved along with the words which he continued to sing, the lyrics being lost in the springtime air as they fell from your lips in a peaceful breath with no volume unlike him. You both kept smiling as Calum reached the end of the song, fingers plucking the melodic chords with ease as he played the final few notes and allowed for his hands to fall against the strings with a final strum.

“I could get used to the sound of you playing in the morning again,” You let out a blissful sigh as you looked out at him. “I’ve missed it, and I think someone else has to.”

Calum chuckled as he stood to his feet, one hand grasping the neck of his guitar, while the other took a hold of the half-empty mug that he had placed on the floor earlier. Bare feet padding against the ground as he made his way back over to where you stood, one foot becoming perched on the step as he came to stand in front of you.

The golden sunlight bounced off him, the warm glow shining against his skin as he stood in the open air. He was a beautiful sight to see, a sight that made your heart sing almost as beautifully as he had done seconds before.

“I guess you could say I was inspired this morning, being in my favourite place with my favourite people,” He let out a soft laugh, his smile wide as he gazed down at you. You joined his eyes as they drifted further down, both sets of eyes falling to the sight of her as she continued to sleep soundly in your arms. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here.”

There was nothing like being at home, wrapped up in the home comforts that Calum had come to love. His home was his safe space, a place where he could be himself, a place to unwind after a long day, a place where he could find the happiness and beauty in the life that he had claimed for himself. It was a place unlike any other.

It was a place where he had those who mattered most. It was a place where he had everything he could ever want or need.

There was no place like home.

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swimmingleo · 3 years

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Only Angel in the Sky: She is screaming

Consider this an addition to this analysis, which is basically about observing Harry's expression of gender through the Pink Floyd lense (more precisely The Dark Side of the Moon).

Of all the songs I've used in this past analysis, there is one I skipped for reasons we don't understand, especially since it really ties up the whole thing together, and this song is The Great Gig in the Sky.

What if a woman screaming was Harry's headcanon voice for She, basically.

Quick history behind The Great Gig In the Sky (TGGITS):

The first version of the song was only the piano melody and was named "The Mortality Song", also called " The Religion song". When the finale version made it to the album, it was commonly interpretated as being about death, or at least a spiritual one.

Death after a repetitive and boring life, or a life not lived to its fullest, where time and self discovery were lacking.

When it comes to the sound of the piano, TGGITS reminds me an awful lot of the repetitive three notes that you hear in both SOTT and Only Angel, all songs that ''sound like heaven'', and that could be linked together through that piano melody. Absolute thanks to @laurelier and this incredible post for pointing out the importance of this recurrent sound in some of Harry's songs. and whose analysis fueled in depth this post <3

QUICK "LyRiCs" ANALYSIS

The Great Gig in the Sky opens, in the exact same fashion as Only Angel, with bribes of speech about death.

And I am not frightened of dying

Any time will do, I don't mind

Why should I be frightened of dying?

There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime, The Great Gig in the Sky

I saw this angel

I really saw an angel, Only Angel

Both speakers welcome death, or at the very least, don't run away from it. There is no fear of the unknown. Yet, right after those peaceful disclaimers, both songs suddenly take another turn and break in literal screams. it's a bit awkward cuz I can't really demonstrate it on text, yall have to listen i'm sorry but basically OA goes hEY HEYYYY and TGGITS goes oooHoooHOOROOAAAAAAA

What's interesting is that later in OA, you can hear Harry sings in the background about death again, on a loop:

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

While legend has it that this is what you can hear later in TGGITS:

If you can hear this whispering you are dying

I point it out not only because it's another nail in the death coffin, but also because those two excerpts are not exactly supposed to be "in your face". You can hear Harry pretty well, but the words are kind of mumbled, lost among random adlibs and not on the same "volume level" than the main singing track. I remember not getting it the first time I listened to the song. and then i looked up the lyrics and was like omg harry what no stop cuz yeah 2017 was when i started acknowledging gayrry so it was a lot of pain to register

Aaaand when it comes to TGGITS's absolutely terrifying one liner, I still can't hear it guess it's a good thing. Apparently, it's around 3:30. Does it also remind me of the little reversed audio easter egg in She ? Ya.

Anyway death is rampant and the speaker is descending (or ascending ?) towards it.

BUT DON'T WORRY IT'S ABOUT GENDER

Ever since I've been obsessing over the parallels between Harry's work and Pink Floyd, The Great Gig in the Sky has been on my mind.

Through that lense, I see it as a raw form of expression, the same way I interprete Only Angel as being the most violent and loud way Harry found to express his struggles regarding... she.

The absolute unhinged vocals of Clare Torry in TGGITS hold the meaning of the world (ooh the dramatics). Is it despair, is it anger, is it demented bliss ? Just like I could never quite put the finger on why the screams in Only Angel were so powerful to me. They seem deliberately placed, one in particular: higher in pitch than all the others and coming right up after the ominous "wanna die tonight". As if she took over for a second.

To be fair, I don't have much to say on this, as it's more of an addition to the She post. However, I do eye the heavy use of the death imagery after reading the birth of Harry post by @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk (which you must go read now also and who triggered as well another round of 'me obsessing over gender in music'' ijtrqhjeut).

She was restricted, hidden, unreachable. She wants to break free. But for one to be reborn one must die first. So yeah, a spiritual little death and a powerful catharsis, and maybe then Harry wil get to thinking of her.

HOWEVER I don't see it as ''old Harry dying and being born again as his true self'', which is a bit of a leap to say about the trans experience. More like ''Harry getting rid of whatever kept him from exploring his angel''. In Only Angel, the bedroom door for example. In She, the speaker's whole established routine.

Harry is someone drawn to spiritual beliefs. Pink Floyd's metaphor of death, placed in the middle of the album, might resonate with his vision. Death isn't a conclusion or the end of the line: it's another step in the life process. And if it takes the form of a woman screaming her lungs out and gradually softening towards the end of the song, when the ''process'' is coming to a term, then I could see the big inspiration behind it.

Not gonna lie with this one it's really all about the vibes lmao because really it's 70% screaming.

#putting it out there #it doesnt weight much #but i like to see it written down #now i can peacefully enjoy the screams <3 #without overanalysing it at night like you know the homer meme when hes frowning in his bed that was me #while clare was busting a lung in my ears #g e n d e r #what a weird concept #*hears screaming* gender #my analysis #song analysis #terrapin

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nikkithebard · 3 years

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Your Angel Ellipsis

Geraskier short fic, post S1E6, post mountain-break up, hurt/little comfort, fix-it-fic, angst, angsty thoughts, featuring HSK, open ending, 2.6k words

Rating: T (Mature language)

A/N: I am totally 100% open to fic ideas if anyone wants to share some. Feel free to send an ask with a prompt, I don’t mind in the slightest. (I have never uploaded my work here before)

The bard moved with about as much grace as a broken-legged turtle, holding his lute case close to his chest. It was the only thing around him that felt even remotely real. Everything else had faded into whispers across his skin. The wind, the dirt, the others who remained on the mountain still. The soles of his boots had been worn thin, slipping over the rocky dust of the ground. Jaskier ignored it. He was far too disinterested in anything that wasn’t the very person he was distancing himself from.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And all he had gotten was shouts, demeaning language, and a wish fit for a djinn.

Oh, how far he’d thrown himself into this wolf’s den. He feared he’d die of heartbreak--again--if he didn’t die from the hunger and dehydration that came with getting lost climbing down a fucking mountain. How far had he gone? Felt like he had been descending in circles rather than going straight down.

Jaskier heard his own words in his mind, reverberating.

You did your best. There’s nothing else you could have done.

Who would have known the words were better suited to him and not the witcher? But, it was true. There was nothing else the bard could have done to change the outcome of this dragon hunt. He tried to talk Geralt out of this, tried to convince him this was too dangerous a task. As per usual, Geralt cared little for Jaskier’s opinion and carried on. Was that his fault, too?

His foot slipped on a larger boulder and he fell. Catching himself before he could do any serious damage, Jaskier decided to take a seat, the sun beating down on his back. Rivulets of sweat pooled around the collar of his chemise. Opening the case, Jaskier made sure his lute was alright. Of course it was, but a peek wouldn’t hurt.

The lute, as it always did, sang back at him through its dark wood, enchanted to no end. Pointless to think it would ever break, really. He withdrew the instrument, strumming the melody he had been crafting for weeks now. It had started out as a metaphor for some sort of unrequited love. As of late, it had been slowly turning it into something much sourer. With naught but the help of a sorceress he watched portal herself away nearly an hour or two ago. Jaskier was still dumbfounded that Geralt was so entrenched in the most awful example of the fairer sex.

“The fairer sex,” Jaskier mumbled to himself, strumming to the opening melody of his latest tune. “How, when she’s as unfair as a thief? A bandit?” He tilted his head, pondering. “A crook?”

Very rarely did lyrics fall into his lap so perfectly, yet the poet learned early on in his life to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking out his pen and notebook, he scratched off the first line of his original ballad, writing in the better one.

Jaskier sighed, unable to keep his mouth shut even if there was no one around to listen, “Bollocks, there I go again, rewriting yet another love ballad. Not that it matters, when you spend over twenty years stooped in what others would refer to as a pile of shit, perhaps every tune comes off as identical, yeah? All the words collide and all the notes fall into unbridled repetition--” He stopped, his own voice crashing into his ears, “Twenty years? Is that right?” He scoffed, fingers absentmindedly moving over the strings of his lute, “Can’t be, I don’t even--I can’t be over forty, can I?” He tried to shake the thought from his mind, yet he simply couldn’t get away from the passage of time. The time he had spent trailing a witcher that threw him away like a tankard of spoiled ale. “What...am I doing?”

Over twenty years, Jaskier had spent chasing a man for nothing. For nothing, because there was nothing else he could have done. The years dripped into his mind, at first a simple leak. In seconds, a stream. In minutes, a broken dam of thoughts and images dancing across the landscape of his brain.

At first, he had only longed for a muse after a particular dry spell of wordless thoughts that had plagued him after he arrived in Posada all those years ago. Jaskier had been coming down from a small bout of fame he founded for himself and the money had run out too quickly. And it was then that he had caught sight of the White Wolf. Only, then, he had nary a clue of who the man was. Jaskier saw armor, swords, a very interesting shade of hair. He was intrigued. As the day passed and Jaskier crafted the song that shot both of their names into the stratosphere, he realized he cared little for the money, the recognition, the women. Yes, it was damn welcome, but he found himself missing something.

It didn’t take him very long to admit the thrill of the adventure--wanderlust, to be specific--was the answer to a question he asked himself too many times. And so, when he and Geralt found each other again, he made it a point to tag along. Geralt didn’t appear to care all that much and let Jaskier do as he pleased. Only when Jaskier droned on and on about any random crap that came to mind--which was purely to spur any sort of response from the silent witcher, he wanted to get to know him--did Geralt stir enough to shut him up.

As time went on, years apparently, Jaskier found himself caring less and less for the songs. He just wanted to follow the witcher. His friend, though Geralt refused to verbally reciprocate the fact. After a while, he only wished for his company, to hear the incredible feats and adventures that befell the witcher. It wasn’t until they started to become tight on money and ended up sharing rooms together that Jaskier realized his fascinations went beyond friendly. When they were alone, with a roof over their heads and safety in their minds, Geralt would always relax a bit. He would speak, joke, smile even.

Jaskier thought he was insane in the beginning. To think he could feel anything more than a curious nature. But, no, it became quite apparent.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And it had become his fatal flaw.

Geralt, it seemed, truly cared nothing for the troubadour that brought him fame and coin.

And it was painful. Of course it was. The two had fought a multitude of times in the past, but this was different somehow. To blame his own destiny on the bard that had only wanted to leave this damn mountain, to leave the witch to her inevitable demise, wanted the witcher to be safe.

Perhaps that was why he had very obviously confessed himself to the witcher. Using the excuse that he had to work out what pleased him when he had done so years before. All to stave off the knowledge that his confession had been viewed as material for his next song. That his love was nothing more than musings to be ignored.

Jaskier never thought he would be faced with his unrequited affection so harshly, though he figured it would come down on him eventually. He strummed the lute, an acute anger creeping up his spine.

The fairer sex, they often call it.

But, her love’s as unfair as a crook.

It steals all my reason,

Commit every treason

Of logic with naught but a look.

He had written a majority of it a night or two ago, when Sir Eyck had gone off to shit in the woods and Yennefer had gone off to “get her beauty sleep”. Scratching off lines and writing over them, as he had gotten so used to for a long time.

Never getting the chance to tell Geralt how he felt, what he wanted, what he needed. Came to a point where he no longer thought it was ever going to happen. Watching Borch, Téa, and Véa fall to their presumed deaths--and nearly watching Geralt follow suit--changed that. He knew there would never be such a delight as “the right time”, especially if this hunt had proven to be so deadly. Jaskier wanted to say his feelings outright, hoping a song would help him in that regard. Alas, nothing ever worked out that way.

Jaskier settled for asking Geralt to allow him the opportunity to prove himself as a worthy travel companion, stretching his tone across the word “companion” to give it a different meaning. Geralt did not catch on and if he did, made no move to show it. And he was shot down.

It made him upset, knowing he had lost the battle for the witcher’s affections long before the bard had even agreed to take part. Rigged and unjust, but he should have known better than to love someone he knew damn well now didn’t care.

A storm breaking on the horizon,

Of longing and heartache and lust

She’s always bad news,

It’s always lose, lose

So tell me love, tell me love,

How is that just?

But, Jaskier cared for the witcher before they had met the witch. And, still, he had lost. He had nothing else but their friendship, and even that was gone now. It wasn’t his fault. Not this time. All at once, everything had gone to shit, more so than it had before whenever Yennefer’s influence on Geralt made his vision turn red. Always lashing out at everyone, always angry, never ever good for him.

The lute was strummed harder, the instrument making the troubadour’s emotions known to anyone within range.

But the story is this,

She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss.

The bard repeated the line, filling the melody appropriately. There was nothing else he could do but let the song continue. He was a bard, all he knew was to let the music escape him, else he might explode. Jaskier heard rustling behind him and chose to ignore it, too caught up in his emotions to stop the tenor of his own voice. If he could just finish the damn song, he would feel better.

He wouldn’t be so angry that he had completely wasted over twenty years of his life. Destroyed his own path whilst following Geralt down his. Getting them free rooms, free meals, making him famous, helping him scrounge up coin for better armor, making him hair tie after hair tie from the leather of old strappings. Fixing baths, cleaning and stitching up wounds, sleeping in the same fucking bed together. And he still lost to a lusty bitch with a hankering for destruction.

Jaskier had lost to a woman that never spent more than a few hours with the witcher at a time. A woman that caused him pain, not healed him of it. A woman that would outlive him and still cause Geralt heartache without respite. Melitele damn her.

Her current is pulling you closer

And charging the hot, humid night.

The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool!

Better stay out of sight.

The troubadour's tune faltered, voice breaking as memories of the past flooded through him again. Asking Geralt a favor in bodyguarding him while being told he was not the White Wolf’s friend, which stung despite the bard’s nonchalance. Learning that Geralt needed nothing out of life. Jaskier telling the witcher that someone--the use of a gender-neutral pronoun had been a flirt, but still remained true to his heart--may want him. “I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting.” Jaskier’s tone changed, filling with longing and desire. He knew he had a penance for lofty things. Good clothing, fine wine, upstanding company. But, he steadily gave it all up, choosing a life of grime and dirt and blood. The rustling behind him came closer.

If this is the path I must trudge,

I welcome my sentence,

Give to you my penance,

Garrotter, jury, and judge.

And his chorus repeated over and over, driving home his emotional distress at losing the one person in this godsforsaken world that was still willing to deal with his bullshit. Jaskier knew, now, that Geralt had never truly been willing and was only ever acting in line with his morals. Geralt only saved him from the djinn because it was the right thing to do. Geralt chose not to harm Jaskier out of pure annoyance because it was simply wrong and unjust.

Yet, Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Geralt sometimes acted outside of his moral compass. The banquet, the event that had really changed the course of the witcher’s life, had been the only inexplicable act Jaskier could not explain. The witcher had helped him free of his coin, in the most minute way. Nothing in their initial understanding of the event had even the slightest to do with what was the textbook definition of a witcher.

Was it due to the fact that, even if Geralt would never admit it, they truly were friends?

Jaskier had little time to continue his reverie, a soft hum from behind breaking through his thoughts.

“I will never understand why I am oft referred to as a ‘garrotter’.” Gravelly voice, low toned, and calm. Jaskier froze, music stopping. How much had he heard? And even more, he caught on to the metaphor immediately.

Jaskier cleared his throat, refusing to look, “It also means ‘killer’ or ‘hunter’.” He said plainly. “Not to mention your name matches the sound of the word a bit.”

“Hmm.” Geralt said, “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

It was a wonder they were even speaking. Jaskier was always so quick to forgive the witcher, though. Yes, he was still hurt and angry. On the other hand, he would fight to keep their friendship and wouldn’t let their squabbles get the better of them. He would just have to bottle his pain, again. Well, maybe put the cork back on the bottle if he was being truthful. He’d let enough spill out of him over the last few days and the song didn’t help.

Geralt walked, moving in front of the bard, gear in hand, “The long way down is safer, but we have a lot of ground to cover.” Face emotionless, golden eyes stared down at the distraught bard.

The bard shook his head, not knowing how to proceed, “Geralt--”

“I’m sorry, Jaskier.” The witcher cut in before the troubadour could make a long-winded speech. His name always sounded intimate when it crossed over the witcher’s lips. Never casual, always private and personal.

Jaskier gave a pained smile, blue eyes still rimmed red with sadness, “Good, that’s all I wanted.” No, it wasn’t. He kept that bit to himself. He stood, placing the lute back into its case and placing the strap on his back.

Geralt gave him another straight look, but his eyes always displayed the man’s thoughts and emotions. He knew Jaskier was lying, especially if he had been paying attention enough to know the truth behind the bard’s lyrics, “Hmm.”

They continued down the mountain together, both silent for once. It wasn’t until they had reached the bottom that Jaskier finally fell into a mindless chatter. His thoughts were becoming too heavy and it wasn’t appropriate when he had company.

They didn’t talk about the song, not for a long time. And when they did, there was no turmoil or miscommunication on either end.

There was only an understanding.

#the witcher #geraskier #witcher fic #gerlion #geralt of rivia #jaskier #i dont normally post this stuff #fanficition but my work #witcher netflix #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #dandelion #my fic #wiedźmin #help the anxiety of posting this is killing me #i love these idiots #i made my own fucking apology for you geralt #fix it fic

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themurphyzone · 3 years

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PatB/BatB AU: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 1

Summary: Sequel to Imprisoned and part of the PatB BatB AU.

The Beast knows he’s too far gone, in too deep to ever have hope of regaining what he lost. But one action leads to another, and through a series of mistakes, discovers he may have been wrong about so many things.

Pinky is running for his life. He knows he made a promise, and he finds the servants charming, but he can’t stay. The castle was not and will never be his home. But things aren’t always as they appear.

AN: OK ok technically the disastrous dinner request does happen first (as of posting this first chapter, the dinner request scene has not been written yet but I do hope to get around to it), but I just wanna write the West Wing and its aftermath ok lemme have my angst.

This will be a 4 chapter story, each chapter named for a lyric from If I Can’t Love Her from the BatB Broadway musical. It’s a really heartwrenching song and every time I hear it I just wanna hug poor Beast.

AO3 Link

Ch 1: Careless and Unthinking

The Beast heard music drifting from the large dining room, traveling along the wind until it reached his usual haunt on the castle roof just above the West Wing.

Though he was too far to properly hear the lyrics, he recognized that irritatingly catchy melody to Be a Pest, a song the Warner siblings performed on a semi-regular basis ever since the curse upended their lives.

He should’ve known the Warners wouldn’t leave the prisoner alone in his room to starve.

The Beast huffed, a misty cloud forming in the frigid air.

He wasn’t sure why he said that when he didn’t actually want the prisoner to starve. It was counterproductive to breaking the curse.

And that mouse was far too foolish to suit his purposes. Arguing every order, determined to defy him at every turn, uncaring of self-preservation when he skipped into the castle and announced his presence without the slightest attempt at stealth.

Not that anyone else bothered to heed his orders, despite his higher station, but it was especially irritating from someone who was supposed to be a prisoner.

Surely all his hopes of regaining his rightful position weren’t dependent on an idiot whose head was permanently up in the clouds!

Rage mounted in the depths of his deformed body, and though he tried to hold back, he couldn’t stop the primal roar that worked its way past his throat.

It echoed off the trees, a flock of faraway birds taking to the air to get away from a perceived predator.

He struck the roof with one clawed, oversized hand. Several loose tiles spiraled into the abyss below.

The rush of adrenaline was overwhelming. It felt good to be so powerful. His old body was woefully lacking in strength and height.

He’d never been able to climb onto the roof before. A mouse was far too small and fragile to ever attempt something so death-defying.

Nor was he able to tear furniture apart so easily. But now he could.

Give in, a voice whispered, sweet and tempting and malicious all at once. Why resist your anger? Give in now, and you won’t be hurt ever again. I promise.

Anger was the only emotion worth feeling. It was blissful to not experience anything other than splintered wood and torn cloth under his claws. No worries, doubts, or fears to hold him back. When his thoughts became nothing but a simplistic chant of destroy, destroy, destroy.

Then all coherent thought would cease, and only instincts were left.

But anger was a fickle companion. It would encourage him, drive him forward, yet it would suddenly flee. It didn’t stay with him in the wake of his destruction.

And the guilt came.

His shortsightedness robbed everyone of a comfortable life. Nobody was spared. Not the innocent toddler, not the orphans or stray animals seeking a safe haven, nor the regular household staff.

On that first long, horrible night, he’d promised to break the curse. They’d be back to normal before they knew it, and they’d only remember it as one odd, terrifying nightmare.

But his plan didn’t work. And he made that promise again. Then his next plan failed before he set it into motion.

Tomorrow night. I’ll break it tomorrow night for sure.

For the past five years, he made that same promise every night.

But the curse wasn’t broken. The nightmare wasn’t complete.

Every plan failed. He tried everything.

That is, he tried everything except for the condition laid out from the very beginning.

The beautiful witch’s voice haunted him, mocking him through every waking hour and dream, taunting him with fate-sealing roses and mirrors that reflected the monster he was.

“If you can find somebody to love, and earn their love in return, my enchantment upon your castle shall be lifted. Fail in your quest, and you shall remain a beast for all time.”

The condition was an open secret in the castle, though only the Warners dared to bring up the topic within his vicinity.

He laughed, but it was a harsh, guttural laugh, completely devoid of joy.

Love? How could he possibly love anyone?

Love only brought pain.

As a foolish child, he loved his parents.

Then they abandoned him in favor of the lavish court. His existence was a scandal unto itself, and he was secreted away to a province with little royal oversight.

He let out an ugly snarl, cruel fangs digging into his upper lip.

The harsh, unnatural sound only served as a reminder that nobody would ever love him back. His mind, which once held ideas on how to reclaim his throne and improve life in this neglected province, was now dull and dimming further by the day.

He couldn’t read or invent anymore. His hands were too large for the delicate machinery, his claws ripping apart everything he touched. He barely remembered how to stand on two legs, and the few times he tried, he quickly lost his balance and had no choice but to stalk the hallways on all fours, stripped of all dignity.

Intelligence was all he had. And even that would be gone soon.

Nobody wanted a dumb, slavering, mud-colored beast for a lover.

A chilly wind blew snow into his fur, startling him out of his ponderings. The night had quickly grown dark and cold, the land below shrouded in an early winter. The moon and stars were hidden by thick, low clouds.

He didn’t hear any music. The prisoner had likely eaten his fill by now.

The silence unnerved him.

It was quiet on the rooftop, but without the background noise of the servants working or screaming from the unfortunate souls who were assigned Warner or Mindy duty, it was far too quiet for comfort.

When it was silent, the most unwelcome thoughts nagged at his deteriorating mind.

He sighed, regretting his decision to ponder on the roof this long. But then, it seemed his entire life was just one bad decision after another, so he was hardly bothered.

Stretching his sore limbs, he carefully gripped the slippery tiles as he descended down to the West Wing balcony. The wind whipped at his cape, and his exposed fur stood on end to keep his body warm.

This body was more resistant to the cold, able to endure conditions any weak, normal mouse would hide themselves from.

He was powerful.

But that thought quickly came to an end.

He lost his grip on a handhold, sliding several inches on the slippery stone.

The brief scare made whatever remained of his shriveled heart leap in fear, and he was reminded that regardless of physical prowess, he was still mortal.

On some nights, being mortal was a good thing.

He took hold of a thick, tangled growth of ivy that crept up the stone walls over the years, so thick that even his sharp claws couldn’t cut through it. The servants had valiantly battled the plants over the years, but there was only so much they could do.

The castle would crumble once the curse took hold permanently and become nothing more than a relic lost to time.

He crept down the ivy to the West Wing balcony, allowing the mysterious, cruel light of the enchanted rose to guide him to safety in the darkness.

Brooding over a rose and making doomed plans in the vain hope of breaking this curse.

That’s all he was good for these days.

Just as he set foot on the balcony, his ears perked at the sound of footsteps within his chambers. He growled quietly to himself.

He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the Warners’ antics tonight. Not when their advice proved little use against the prisoner’s stubborn refusal to have dinner with him.

But the footsteps sounded…different. Lighter.

Not brassy like Yakko’s, wooden like Wakko’s, or clinking like Dot’s.

The Beast inhaled sharply.

No.

It couldn’t be.

His prisoner was an idiot, but surely he wouldn’t break the only rule he’d been given. He should’ve been thanking the Beast for his leniency with the guidelines to follow for his stay within the castle property.

Don’t go into the West Wing.

But the mouse was right before his eyes, still on the far side of the room, twirling around in awe at the torn draperies, splintered wood, and haphazard bedding.

“Narf. This room could use a good sweep. I’ve seen pigsties cleaner than this!” the mouse tsked, shaking his head at the sorry state of the West Wing.

Really? The Beast wanted to scream. That’s your main concern right now?

Never mind that the West Wing was a grim testament to just how far he’d fallen, the shadowed lair of a beast, the broken décor scattered and abused throughout the years because it felt so good to lash out at something without guilt, and his prisoner commented on the mess of all things?

His claws brushed against a shard from a broken vase, and he sullenly flicked it aside. The ceramic remains skittered across the balcony.

Alright, so maybe the West Wing was a little messy…

An odd sense of embarrassment washed over him.

He crouched behind a thick tangle of ivy, feeling very much like a predator lying in wait for unsuspecting prey. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to do anything, and the mouse would just leave on his own.

The mouse picked his way through the West Wing, stopping to gawk at a shredded mattress and pile of ragged blankets that served as the Beast’s bed. He plucked at a strip of fabric that had fallen on the floor, and the Beast growled lowly. His sleeping area wasn’t a spectacle.

It was simply where he woke up from a nightmare, only to find that he never truly left.

The mouse gasped, his ears twitching. For a fleeting moment, the Beast believed he’d successfully chased him out of the West Wing. But the mouse turned to a portrait in a golden frame, one that had been painted so long ago, in a faraway life.

He’d dragged his claws across that painting many times, when he could no longer take the image of himself as a prince, mocking him with his dead-eyed stare and prestige.

Reminding him of what he used to be.

Though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it permanently, some part of him couldn’t bear to throw it away. He didn’t know why.

He was tempted to spring out of his hiding place and tell the mouse to get out right now, but the gentle, almost reverent way the mouse pulled the hanging scraps of the portrait up to what remained in the frame made him hesitate.

In the entryway of the balcony, the rose sparked within the bell jar, its ethereal glow blinding for just a moment before it settled once again.

His hesitation cost him.

Slowly, the mouse approached the enchanted rose. The glow was always mesmerizing, always the only beautiful thing in an otherwise dark and ugly room.

Sometimes he fantasized about shredding the rose to pieces and scattering the petals to the wind, so that he wouldn’t ever have to look at it anymore.

But he wasn’t the only one affected by the curse, though he was the one who bore the brunt of it. Too often, he’d come close to forgetting that.

The rose floated just above a small, elevated platform. Five petals had fallen so far, lifeless and dead. More would join them soon enough. The pink glow illuminated the mouse’s unusual blue eyes, which were already lit up in idiotic wonder and curiosity.

With a surprising amount of strength for a mouse so slim, the prisoner carefully lifted the bell jar and set it aside.

The sheer stupidity of that action stunned the Beast.

Then the mouse reached out, fingers outstretched, just a few inches away from-

THAT FOOL WAS GOING TO DAMN THEM ALL!

All-consuming fear and fury seized hold of the Beast’s mind, his vision filled with red haze as he sprung out from behind the ivy thicket.

Protect the rose. Protect the rose at any cost.

The Beast snarled, ignoring his prisoner’s startled gasp. The mouse tripped over his own feet as the Beast snatched up the bell jar and slammed it over the rose.

For a moment, he feared he was too rough with the precious items. Though no petals fell, he wouldn’t allow himself any relief.

Not until the intruder was dealt with.

He gripped the bell jar tightly, slowly turning to face the mouse who thought he could just barge into the West Wing without any consequences whatsoever.

“What are you doing here?” the Beast growled, blocking the rose from the mouse’s view.

The mouse held his hands in front of his face. “I…I’m sorry!” he stammered.

Did he truly believe a simple placation would work? That he broke the one rule, a rather generous rule, just to satisfy his own curiosity?

“I warned you NEVER to come here!” he snarled, caring nothing for the apology.

The mouse stumbled over the corner of a ceramic vase which had oddly survived the carnage the Beast had wrought over the years. His eyes were wide, his ears limp. He squeaked something in protest, pitifully trying to justify his poor reasoning.

“DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD’VE DONE?”

A roar tore out of his throat. He was dimly aware of a terrified scream, his large paws smashing a vase into jagged shards, and all he knew was the pleasure of unleashing his wrath upon anything that couldn’t fight back.

He only saw red.

“GET OUT!”

A pile of broken wood flew past the mouse’s head. He let out a ragged cry and fled the West Wing. His piercing scream echoed in the Beast’s ears, banishing the red, vengeful haze that overtook his mind.

Broken furniture surrounded him.

Downstairs, the servants pleaded in vain for the mouse to stay. A cold wind blew through the castle, icy enough to pierce through his defenses.

The Beast turned to the rose, just in time for the sixth petal to fall.

It had a wicked sense of humor.

The enchanted mirror reflected cruel, sharp fangs as he panted for breath. The portrait’s gaze bore into him, dead-eyed and mocking and judgmental.

And the twisted black horns which adorned his head were heavier than before.

AN: I’m sorry mice, I love you, I swear…

No I did not start the BatB AU as an excuse to torture Brain as much as I already do. It’s kinda sad that many character traits of Disney’s Beast and Brain overlap. Short temper, arrogant, a goal they want very very badly but their own vices prevent them from ever obtaining it, brooding, someone they love so much they’ll do anything for, even give up their own desires, but they don’t believe they can be loved back…yeah.

I tried to do the West Wing justice cause it’s such a great scene in the movie, but I don’t think it translates well to a text based medium. Oh well, you can just listen to the soundtrack, but I think I did well enough with it.

#pinky and the brain #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction #patb if i can't love him

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mike-crew · 5 years

Text

The sunset forest

Long post ahead, sorry y’all

Here is a semi-decent piece of writing by me (purple) about a forest on top of a mountain that’s home to several faeries and experiences frequent thunderstorms

Racing to the top of the highest mountain, a storm approaches. It’s beautiful, really, in that strikingly potent way: the low-hanging thunder clouds, the blinding pearly lighting, the dusky hues of violet and amber. Perhaps the ethereal shape of an animal dances, ghostly through the trees - it might have been a deer or a wolf once.

No life truly remains in the sunset forest; no birds sing their melancholy melodies from the treetops, nor do they take flight. Do you still seek shadows amongst the boughs and dappled light?

A light breeze brings the brazen chime of a bell, eerily quiet (yet far too loud in the ever-silent glade). Soft soaring, fast fluttering, light lifting wings that belong to no bird or bug haunt the twilight sky.

A voice too eloquent, too powerful, too ancient leaves devastation and a screaming wreck in its wake. Divine ecstasy. Dangerous power. Dark fall. A deal too good to be true. It’s excruciating, the agony felt by one who dared stray from the path, then strayed yet further from their rules.

The forest belongs to them, you know, and they control it all. Time itself bends to their will, halting even the moon as she arcs gracefully across the sky. Stop. Start. Stop again. Lighting strikes, and for a moment you could swear your soul caught fire. There is power amongst these trees of gold and amethyst jewels, too much power...

The beast that stalked through lilac leaves takes form, but not quite. Is it corporeal? It matters not; you’ll never escape. A charge, and a scream too distant to be yours, yet echoing through your own mind. Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

The sunset forest exists only in dreams.

It is over, but the strange tingling in your back, the emerald tint to your shimmering eyes, the cruel twist in your smile, all those things that are you - but not quite - you cannot shake.

Followed. Hunted. Stalked. The prey you sought was too fair and too lithe. Their wits and their words burned brighter than your own fire, spurned by the foolish curiosity of a mortal. You sought a hunt in the forest, and you found one, it’s true, but perhaps the hunter was never truly you...

Now here is a terribly convoluted short story by me (orange) based on the original piece but i tried to flesh it out a bit. It’s a mashup of two different dreams, the descendants “wicked world soundtrack” and an inside joke with my dad. Apologies in advance.

Waking up in one swift, startling movement, Evelyn looked up cautiously, shielding her eyes from the blinding... sunset? Lowering her hand, she realised that it had been lightning that had near blinded her. The peak of the mountain visible from her quaint cottage window was shrouded in low-hanging storm clouds, bright flashes of pearly lightning illuminating the dusky hues of lilac and Amber. The young woman’s eyes glinted with a powerful ambition, hungry for adventure, for danger even. Something deeper still slumbered inside her, an insatiable thirst for revenge on the cruel powers that had taken her Grandmother.

Racing to catch the storm before it dissipated, Evelyn Hoppes into the humble yet stylish car that her brother had kindly ‘gifted’ her - despite the fact that she developed most of its tech herself - and pushed on into the storm. Upon arrival, she straightened her pinstriped blouse and began to investigate the glimmering autumnal trees. Even seeing it for the thousandth time, Evelyn had to admit that the forest was beautiful, in that hauntingly ethereal way. The amethyst jewels that hung from boughs of gold never failed to impress even the most professional and impassive of bystanders. Someone with the passion, emotion and cruel ambition of Evelyn was rendered incapable of resistance in the presence of the sunset forest. A shining, shimmering shape pranced, ghostly through the trees, catching Evelyn’s cold eyes as it passed. It might have been a deer or a wolf once.

It was only now, after what could have been a few minutes, or could have been a few hours, did Evelyn truly notice the eerie silence of the sunset forest. No life truly remained here: no birds sang their melancholy melodies from the treetops, nor did they take flight. And yet, Evelyn still sought shadows beneath the boughs and dappled light. Stalking the forest like she was born to, Evelyn was startled to consciousness by the brazen chime of a bell, brought by a light breeze, accompanied by a clap of thunder. It was barely a whisper to Evelyn’s focused mind, yet somehow it still managed to sound too loud amidst the dead silence of the forest.

When the voices started to whisper, Evelyn knew she was close. Too eloquent and charismatic to be human, the voices were accompanied by a soft soaring, fast fluttering, light lifting pair of wings that belonged to no bird or bug; a voice so potent and ancient that it leaves no more than devastation and a screaming wreck in its wake. Divine ecstasy, dangerous power and a dark fall. What had Evelyn gotten herself into? She had been promised revenge on those who hurt her beloved Nana. A deal too good to be true. It’s excruciating, the agony felt by one who dared stray from the path, then strayed yet further from their rules.

Perhaps she thought that the technology she had developed could bring back her grandma’s memories, could make her whole again. All it had really done was hurt people, people whom she loved dearly: her brother, her wife, her best friend, their children. Evelyn had been so set on her revenge that she had lost sight of what was truly important. Perhaps good was the new bad.

Problem was, the forest belonged to them and they controlled it all. Time itself bent to their every whim, even the moon itself halting its graceful arc across the sky. Stop. Start. Stop again. Evelyn was losing control. Perhaps if Rose had been there, instead of holed up in a cell somewhere for no good reason other than she was a good and selfless person. Those in power don’t like people who are good just for the sake of being good. They make them nervous. Evelyn was pulled from her own cavernous mind by a lightning strike that hit a little too close to home, and for a moment she could swear her soul caught fire. There was power among these bright-hued boughs - too much power...

The beast that stalked through lilac leaves earlier that evening caught Evelyn off guard. Her eyes had softened somewhat and that insatiable ambition had calmed just enough for her to let her guard down at the thought of her family. Unfortunately, that was when it took form. Was it corporeal? It mattered not; she’d never escape. A charge, and a scream too distant to be hers, yet echoing through her own mind. Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

The sunset forest exists only in dreams

It was over. A quick phone call to everyone in Evelyn’s family ensures that they were all okay. A particularly emotional one with her grandma reassured her that she remembered who her granddaughter was and was not, in fact, in a hospital ward. Evelyn knew nobody by the name of Rose and wasn’t quite sure where that name had come from. Yet somehow, that name still had meaning, a deeper and more profound meaning. To her, the name Rose meant deceit; It meant danger, destruction and a loss of love. It had never before stood for hope, and she supposed it never would again.

But was it really over? Evelyn felt more inclined to be kind now, to put her past behind her and live in the present. She popped in her earbuds and raced upstairs to fix her messy crop of brown hair.

Bad was all the rage last week, but good has got a wicked beat. Even Evelyn had to admit that was true. Though it was an oddly appropriate lyric to stick out to her, considering the revenge-riddled dream.

In the mirror, she caught something that made little sense when matched with her new mindest. There was strange tingling in her back, as though it were hollow. An emerald tint washed over her shimmering eyes, a cruel twist in her smile, all those things that were here - but not quite - she could not shake.

Evelyn felt afraid in the days that followed. Tracked. Hunted. Stalked. The prey she sought was too fair and too lithe. Their wits and their words burned brighter than her own fire. She vowed to carry an iron nail, to hang a dream catcher above her threshold. Evelyn had never believed in the fey folk before, but this felt too fundamentally wrong to be anything else. She knew she wasn’t dreaming still (she could never dream up something this weird or this realistic).

Their flames were spurned by the foolish ambition and thirst for revenge of a mortal.

Call it bad, call it good, call it even if you could, call it good, call it bad, it’s the best you ever had. Well they were right about that at least. Evelyn found clarity in her music, even in there cheesy old soundtracks. She supposed that, if there was such a thing as a faery, it couldn’t be placed into limited categories like ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ The dream might have left Evelyn a sobbing, screaming shell of anxiety and despair, but there was something so incredible about the raw power of the empire that she and her brother had built up in that dream, no doubt assisted by some dangerous fey magic. Evelyn found herself wishing that she had that kind of skill with technology in real life. Perhaps she would go back to school, get a degree in computer engineering, or software development. Something new, exciting and powerful. But this time, she vowed to get there through perseverance and hard work, not take the easy way out. Especially if that easy way was likely to get her killed.

She sought a hunt in the forest, and she found one, we agree, but perhaps the huntress was never truly she...

#writing #original character #original story #faeries #fae folk #im really sorry yall i just have to get this out there #im fairly sure the second piece is terrible #but its 1:22 am in my country and im sick #so please be nice to me #thank you

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tassium · 5 years

Text

#TAYLOR SWIFT APPRECIATION LIFE

PART 6 - reputation

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

Listen. This was by far the hardest review for me to get going into properly. I love every single track on this album without exception, and it was SO HARD for me to come up with coherent comments to make on all of them.

But I think I managed alright, and we’re finally about to embark on the wild ride that is @taylorswift‘s 6th studio album, reputation.

Hang on tight, and please keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times.

1. ...Ready For It?

No, Taylor, none of us were ready for this, not even a little bit.

Can we just talk about that introduction? like. What a way to kick off an album. This track grabs you by the hand and just pulls you along for the ride, like “get in losers”. That little throat clear at the beginning! the beat that drops off and lets her voice go all light and ethereal! This song is a wild ride from start to finish, and I love it. “Let the games begin” indeed.

And that MUSIC VIDEO!!! I want the rest of that movie, please.

I made a reaction video to this track/video and if you wanna check it out, click here

2. End Game

I love the synths at the beginning of this song, but I’ll be honest that Future’s verse took some time to grow on me. Ed’s verse and Taylor’s on the other hand? Boy. Those grabbed me from the start, as did the harmonies that are laced all through this track.

Is it just me or was this the first time she used the word enemies for the people she’s clashed with? I feel like that’s a new thing.

I also reacted to this one when the video dropped, click here to watch

3. I Did Something Bad

Okay so first and foremost. Taylor Alison Swift, in the year of our lord 2017, swearing on a track out there in front of god and everybody. I feel like if there was any remaining ‘oh she’s just a sweet young thing’ attitude from anyone, this album shattered it to pieces in the best way.

The production on this track, I can’t even. This is an explosive track, it just hits you like a train and drags you along for the ride. There’s a bit on the way out of the track where she says “I did something bad” in a straight spoken voice and it is. Too much for this weak swiftie!

4. Don’t Blame Me

This sacrilegious hymn of a track. I swear. That almost broken electronic wavering synth behind the chorus. The choir effect on her voice. The stripped down beat-driven verse. The lyrics in general? My dude. I can’t. Also anyone who still thinks she has no range can physically fight me after that note after the bridge. That’s power is what that is.

Also can we talk about that behind the scenes clip of her filming the angry distant vocals for the chorus? I’m weak.

5. Delicate

Another thing I’m weak for is use of vocoder. And that beat that comes in for the verse! AND THAT LITTLE ‘delicate’ IN THE CHORUS!! kills me every single time. I’ll be honest here and say that the video for Delicate didn’t really grab me as much as some of the others, but the song itself certainly did.

Can we just. Talk for a second about how sad it is to think about that concept of ‘wow. you must really actually like me if you’re hanging around through all this mess.’

One of my favorite things in this track is the descending harmony behind “sometimes when I look into your eyes”. I always want to sing along with the harmony instead of the melody on that part because I find it so compelling.

6. Look What You Made Me Do

WHERE IT ALL BEGAN! that building drumline is absolutely gorgeous and I can’t not air drum to it - I don’t even play drums!

Also, yes, I am fully aware that I JUST SAID on the 1989 review that Out of the Woods was too repetitive for me, and here I am raving about this song which... honestly. Is just as repetitive if not more so. But this song just grabs me so much more and so instantly that I really get into the repetition (And maybe that has something to do with the familiarity because of the sampled melody).

That plinking lead line thing, and oh my god, the percussion on the second chorus. I can’t.

The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now CAUSE SHE’S DEAD. And I feel like with lover about to come out, maybe we’re killing off yet another “old taylor”

click here for my reaction video

7. So It Goes...

I read somewhere that the tracks with the ellipses on them mark out the edges of the “side A” part of the album, and it’s the spot where things shift over to a different feeling, and I believe it.

Again, this track has absolutely outstanding production on it, the softness dropping into the driving beats, and the bridge. Oh my god. I’m still not over that whispered “1 2 3″. And that line “i’m not a bad girl but I do bad things with you’ reminds me of blank space and that “I can make the bad guys good for a weekend” it’s like the inverse of it.

Also welcome to the first track on this album that I refuse to let my dad listen to - “scratches down your back” indeed t a y l o r

8. Gorgeous

Adorable baby voice!! This song is so great, I love it to pieces. I love the sort of bitter quality about it and the way she’s taken how tumblr and twitter fandom talks about celebrities and made it just a mainstream piece of her song.

Also is that a bell like the kind they put on counters to get the attention of the person working? because I can’t help but hit the bell (air bell!) when it comes in and that’s what I always picture when I do so.

I can’t come up with anything more coherent so .... guess I’ll just stumble on home to my cats.... ;)

9. Getaway Car

More vocoder! I love. The wording in this song is so evocative and brings up such perfect, crisp mental images for me, and she applied that to perfect metaphors for the situation in question. I love the idea of how.... like. It’s a rebound relationship, right? but it’s the getaway car from the previous relationship. And really, you can’t be surprised when something like that doesn’t last as long.

Also that outro beat? Be still my heart!

10. King of My Heart

THIS SONG!!!! More gorgeous vocoder use, of course, but then also. So many little things about the lyrics that get me! “Salute to me, I’m your American queen” and “jag-u-ars” and the way she sings “luxury” and just!!! so much!

As for the musical side of things, I absolutely adore that really subtle acoustic guitar in the chorus, and the DRUMS in the post-chorus (or whatever you want to call that bit). They’re so full and almost feel-it-in-your-chest even just in headphones! (I’m still not sure I survived that concert)

11. Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Early on I had a half-baked theory that this song is about John Mayer, but the timeline doesn’t work at all, so... definitely not. Still though, think about it. “slow dancing in a burning room”/”swaying as the room burned down”

That aside, though, this song makes me think of the Halsey track Bad at Love if ONLY because of the theme of melancholy looking back at relationships that felt doomed from the start (or didn’t, as the case may be, I don’t know)

But also just. Taylor’s vocal performance on this song. Those ‘ad libs’ in the background of the final chorus have so much power in them.

12. Dress

And here we have the other Taylor song I won’t let my dad listen to. He would be scandalized to death by this song.

I love that lyric about the golden tattoo. I can’t really explain what it is about that line that gets me so much.

More beautiful production - something about the tracks on this album feels so grand for lack of better word. Plus there’s that moment in this song “say my name and everything just STOPS” and the whole thing goes silent... I will never forget the feeling of that line coming out and the way the whole stadium went dark.

13. This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

Ahhhhh I love this song. Gotta love a nice sassy Taylor style clapback, right? Beautiful.

“Feeling so Gatsby” is the best line for getting her point across. You don’t even have to be particularly familiar with the work that references, it just brings the opulence to mind effortlessly.

That laugh in the bridge though, and the tumbling low piano crash afterward, I love it so much. Again to reference the tour, it was such a great extended moment of laughter. So great.

14. Call It What You Want

This... Is probably my favorite track on the album, if I were pressed to name one. I adore this song so completely. I still get just emotionally overcome if I take the time to really pay attention to this song when it comes on. I love it so much, and it’s such a beautiful hopeful song. Like, yeah, my life’s been a right mess but it’s better now with you in it, and just.... this song fills me with feelings like that one animation in the lizzie mcguire movie. 90s kids, you know the one I mean. (lover, the song, gives me those same feelings, just amplified like 30x)

The smile in her voice on “yes” can almost bring me to tears all by itself.

my reaction video can be found here

15. New Year’s Day

Speaking of beautiful mushy-feelings-bringing tracks... The fact that these two are paired back to back like this is just bringing both barrels to my emotions. Gosh.

At the show, I’d taken my shoes off literally two songs prior - I was the girl carrying her shoes in the lobby.

I love so much that it’s just her with a piano and then a little bit of guitar, and those soft self-harmonies on some parts - “please don’t ever become a stranger” reminds me of Enchanted.

This song will without fail make me cry because it’s just so soft and I’m so happy for her. I can’t believe how long it’s been and she’s so happy and in love and. Even when this song came out. Gosh.

We did it, yall. We’ve made it up to date, and it’s almost time for Lover to come out! I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready. My emotions aren’t ready. Gosh.

Anyway, thanks for coming along with me on this ride. See you on the other side of the release!

#taylor swift #reputation #album review #Taylor Swift Appreciation Life #Our Lady and Savior Taylor Swift

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sinsiriuslyemo · 6 years

Text

Here is some more of these two, whom I am so obsessed with it’s not even funny anymore. For those who would like to be tagged that aren’t tagged already, feel free to let me know! Thank you guys so much for reading!!

tagged: @bullet-prooflove, @delia26, @ghostofachancewithyou, @whiterose2664, @blown-transistor, @esparza-army, @mikeydodds, @southern-magnolia

5. I Want

Sebastian could still distinctly remember the scent of the ADA’s cologne and the thought alone sent shivers over his body and made his head swim. He could still feel the soft lips of the other man’s on his own and all he could think about was feeling them again. Even now as his fingers moved over the piano keys in his apartment, all he could think about was the adorable cluster of freckles he’d noticed that morning on the bridge of Rafael’s nose. The sound of the other man’s voice was still so crystal clear in his mind as he played over the verse he’d just composed and much to his delight, his fingers continued to move past the last note he’d written, into the beginnings of a chorus.

Pausing to write out the chords and melody he’d just played, he thought about Rafael’s smirk, which seemed to fit the ADA so perfectly to a T and the corner of his own lips began to curl in a similar fashion. It seemed that with every new thing he discovered about the dark-haired attorney came a sensation of euphoria, like a drug that made him feel as though the world around him was standing still. His fingers on the keys again, Sebastian experimented with a second verse, stopping every few notes and trying different approaches until the right ones played back to him.

He reflected on how flawlessly the prosecutor’s long fingers had slipped through his own thicker ones. How smooth Rafael’s skin had felt against his, which had always felt more like worn leather, and tried to imagine how the other man’s touch would feel in his hair.

Lyrics swirled in his mind and his hand couldn’t move the pen fast enough over his notebook. All too soon it seemed, the alarm on his phone sounded, breaking him from his concentration of both the song he was working on and the memories of his time spent with ADA Rafael Barba.

Jesus, even the man’s name was reminiscent of an immaculately composed melody birthed by the likes of Andrew Lloyd Webber or Stephen Sondheim. Maybe both.

Getting up from his bench and his now finally-completed “I Want” song, Sebastian pocketed his phone, crossed his living room and took up his keys from the rack mounted on the wall beside his front door. He descended the narrow staircase after locking his apartment and went to work.

“How’d your date go last night?” Casper called out to him from the bar as Sebastian walked into Skat Cat Club.

The tall, lanky bartender’s brown hair was perfectly set in a just-out-bed look that had always suited him. Even when they were younger, Casper had never been one to spend much time on his hair other than to be sure it didn’t look dirty. It was something Sebastian had admired for a long time, though he would’ve never had the confidence to spend less than thirty minutes on his own hair.

He stopped short as he stared at his oldest friend with knitted brows. “How is it that I’m the only one who didn’t know it was a date?”

Casper arched a brow as he looked up at his friend, who was once again, making his way towards the bar. “What are you talking about, you didn’t know it was a date? What’d you think it was?”

“It’s not unusual for two guys to just have dinner together, I didn’t wanna be presumptuous.” Sebastian answered with a rise and fall of his broad shoulders.

“You invited him out, didn’t you?”

The musician paused, having finally reached the bar and sitting down on one of the stools. “I mean yeah--”

“--Did you pay for the date?” Casper asked.

“Yes--”

“--Walk him home?”

Sebastian sighed, pursing his lips as he nodded. Why were things always so clear to other people but not for him?

“You kiss him goodnight?” Casper asked, wiping the rim of a glass, his brown eyes still on the other man.

“No, this morning,” Sebastian replied, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Whoa!”

“No, not--we met up for coffee. I kissed him then,” Sebastian said.

“You kissed him over coffee,” Casper mused, nodding his head.

“I kissed him over coffee,” Sebastian repeated. “It was nice, it was a daytime-appropriate kiss.”

“A daytime-appropriate kiss,” Casper replied in a high pitched chuckle.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the bartender.

“So when are you seeing him again?” his friend asked.

“I told him I’d get in touch with him soon,” Sebastian answer, moving a hand over his hair. “I wanna take him someplace special, you know?”

Casper looked up from his task of setting up the margarita salt. “You just met this guy, what kinda special we talking about?”

“I don’t know, someplace cool. Romantic.”

“Do you even know what he wants?” Casper asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the guy seemed nice enough the other night, but you’re clearly looking for something monogamous. Have you asked if he wants that too, or are you just assuming he does?” Casper answered.

When Sebastian stayed silent, the bartender set down the salt dispenser and placed his hands on the edge of the bar, dipping his head to meet the pianist’s eyes. Sebastian on the other hand seemed intent to stare at his own hands, one thumb rubbing over a callous on the ham of his palm.

“Look, man, you wear your heart on your sleeve and you tend to--”

“--I know, but--”

“--No, no buts,” Casper said as he waved a hand in front of him. “You should ask him what he wants before you start to think about the two of you spending holidays together, moving in together and getting a puppy.”

“Don’t be an idiot, we’d probably get a rescue dog,” Sebastian replied, realizing his words immediately afterward. He looked up at Casper, who was staring at him expectantly. “Okay, good point.”

“I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sebastian whispered as picked at the label of a bottle Casper had set on the bartop.

He didn’t want to think about the last time he’d been completely taken with someone. Didn’t want to remember what it felt like to hear that he didn’t mean as much to them as they had to him. Every time he’d had his heart broken, the pain had chipped away at his hope for something real a little at a time, and yet despite it all, he still held on to that sliver of hope for dear life. Somehow he’d convinced himself that there had to be someone out there who could love him, even with all his flaws.

“Finished a song finally,” he said after a moment, offering his friend a smile.

Capser’s eyes widened as his brows lifted. “Holy shit, are you serious?”

Sebastian nodded.

“And you’re waiting to ask him out again? Come on, man. Thought you had more sense than that,” Casper answered.

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian asked in a chuckle.

“What am I talking about? The guy’s obviously your muse,” Casper replied.

Sebastian chortled as the door opened and he shifted his gaze to see who it was, giving the woman who’d just entered a half smile. Katie had been dating Casper for only four months, but Sebastian had had a feeling from the very beginning that the short blonde was going to be the one to tame his wayward friend.

“Babe, you have the keys?” she asked Casper as she came straight towards the bar, glancing to the pianist and tipping her chin with a soft grin of her own. “Hey Bas, how’d your date go?”

Sebastian threw his hands up as a bashful chuckle tumbled through his lips and he shook his head, meeting Casper’s eyes.

“He didn’t know it was a date,” the bartender answered for him, looking at his girlfriend.

“What?” she asked, her brown eyes going from the bartender to Sebastian. “I thought you asked him out, how could you not know it was a date?”

“He didn’t kiss him goodnight either,” Casper added as he turned to grab his keys and brought them to Katie, who was staring at the musician with wide eyes.

“Why wouldn’t you kiss him?!” she asked, smacking Sebastian’s shoulder.

“Ow. I met him for coffee this morning and kissed him then. I fixed it,” Sebastian answered, holding his hands up in feigned defense.

Katie closed her eyes as she waved her hands in front of her and shook her head. “Wait, wait...” Her eyes opened again as a slow smile crept onto her face. “You didn’t kiss him at the end of the night…” Sebastian shook his head. “So, that likely means you did not have sex…”

“No, we didn’t,” Sebastian answered.

“And he still wanted to meet up for coffee the morning after?”

“Yes, he took me to that place by Gristedes,” the musician replied. “What’s the big deal? I don’t understand.”

Katie lifted and dropped one shoulder. “Well, if he was only interested in sex--”

“--Whoa, wait a minute, he could only still be interested in sex,” Casper interjected, holding a hand out towards his girlfriend. He looked back at Sebastian. “Want me to see if he’s on Grindr?”

The musician furrowed his brows. “What? No, I don’t want you to see if he’s on Grindr. He’s not like that--”

“--You still have the Grindr app?” Katie asked, arching a brow.

“It’s not like I use it. It’s not even on my home screen anymore,” Casper answered, reaching behind him to pull his phone from his back pocket. He laid it on the bar in front of Katie, who picked it up as she rolled her eyes and scrolled through her boyfriend’s apps.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

Sebastian raised his voice. “I don’t wanna know if he’s on Grindr. I don’t care about that--”

“--Rafael Barba,” Casper said.

“Um, hello?! What did I just say?” Sebastian complained.

His friends had always been overprotective of him, especially since the last time he’d been seeing someone, but more often than not they made him feel like a helpless puppy. He knew their hearts were in the right place, even if it sometimes made him want new friends.

“Listen to me,” Casper said, finally acknowledging the other man. “I know you think we’re being way too nosy, and you’re probably right, but I’m really just trying to look out for you.”

“I get that, but I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself,” Sebastian answered.

“I know you can, but--”

“--He’s not on here,” Katie said, her eyes still on the phone. “I looked on Tinder, too, just in case. He doesn’t have a profile on either app.”

“I don’t have Tinder on my phone,” Casper said, knitting his brows.

“I downloaded it--”

“--How’d you--wait...you have a profile on there?”

“I don’t have the app anymore, I just never deactivated my account,” Katie answered with a bob of her shoulders.

“Wow,” Casper mumbled, looking at Sebastian with a faint smile. “And we’re sitting here trying to give you relationship advice.”

“Look, even if he did have a profile on either one of those apps, I wouldn’t care. He’s a great guy and I happen to like spending time with him, so I’m just gonna keep doing that and see where it goes,” Sebastian said.

“That’s so sweet,” Katie mused with a serene smile.

Casper cooed, “Aw yeah, so sweet,” as he looked at his girlfriend, then Sebastian. “I still think you should ask him what he’s looking for. And for fuck’s sake, make another date with the guy already. Don’t wait too long.”

“You didn’t make another date with him?” Katie asked with an arched brow.

“Not yet--”

“--He wants to take him some place romantic,” Casper interjected.

“Are you gonna let him talk?” Katie asked, pinning the bartender with a half-hearted glare before she looked back at the pianist. “You should take him to Le Boudoir.”

“That place in Brooklyn?” Casper asked with furrowed brows.

“You’re a genius,” Sebastian said to Katie, smiling widely.

“Thank you,” she answered, playfully putting a hand over her heart. “Just don’t take him on a Monday night. They have live music and in such a tiny room, you won’t be able to talk to each other.”

“I wanna see him again sooner than that anyway,” he mumbled as he sent a text to Rafael asking if he wanted to meet up later that evening.

“You’re so cute,” Katie said.

An older man with chin-length grey hair and a matching beard stepped out from behind the stage and walked towards the register behind the bar. “Opening in five minutes, gents. Katie, how you doin’, kid?”

“Hey Joe. Pretty good, just came by to grab something from Casper,” she answered, looking back to her boyfriend.

“Ah, you’re alright,” he answered. “Always nice to see a pretty face.”

“You see my face all the time,” Sebastian quipped, smiling at the old timer.

“Kid, I’d be the luckiest guy in the city if that mug did it for me,” Joe chortled, closing the register again and moving around the bar to walk to his usual post at the front door.

Sebastian chuckled as well as his phone buzzed and he immediately looked down at the screen, the grin on his face making his cheeks hurt.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he heard Katie ask from beside him. Turning his face to answer, he jumped back when he realized that she was practically hanging over his shoulder, peering down at his phone screen.

“Yes, nosy, it is,” he replied, picking up the phone and placing the screen against his chest as he stood and walked to the stage.

“Touchy,” Katie muttered before she said her goodbyes and left the bar.

Sebastian waved over his shoulder, opening the text message from Rafael. He swallowed and licked his dry lips, biting down on the bottom petal when he read the ADA’s message.

I was wondering how long I’d have to wait to hear from you again. See you tonight.

“Why are we going to Brooklyn?” Rafael asked with a smirk.

He’d come into the Skat Cat after work and caught the last few minutes of Sebastian’s second set. After the day he’d had, a drink had most certainly been on his agenda, though not for the same reasons as when he’d first entered the humble piano bar for the first time.

“It’s a secret...kind of,” Sebastian answered, looking over at him. “It’s, like, one of the best kept secrets in the city.”

“Is that so?” Rafael replied in a chuckle as the cab came to a stopped in front of Chez Moi on Atlantic Ave.

He’d been to the place once before and remembered how delicious the food had been but also how pricey and hardly a secret. Rafael smiled over at Sebastian as the musician paid their cab.

“French cuisine this time?”

“Kinda,” Sebastian answered as they stepped onto the sidewalk. He smiled at Rafael and placed a hand on his lower back. “Come on. Trust me, the place we’re going to is really cool.”

Rafael nodded once and let the other man lead him into the restaurant and all the way to the back where the bar was. He furrowed his brows when instead of sitting at the bar, the musician went straight to the bookshelf to the left of it. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Sebastian looked back at him and offered him a gentle smile as he reached down to lace his fingers through the ADA’s. “Trust me, it’s okay.”

It had always been incredibly difficult for to trust anyone, let alone a man he’d met only the three nights prior. Anyway time he would allow the wall to come down, he could eventually get burned. Ever since the incident with Alex and Yelina it seemed that all he could attract was someone with ulterior motives. Someone who would at some point or another hurt him or pull away because of how involved he got in his work, whichever came first. It had become so that after the last time, which if memory served him was more than eleven years prior to him walking into the Skat Cat Club, he’d all but sworn off ever trusting someone again. The exception was maybe Olivia, but even his friendship with the Lieutenant was a bit one sided if he were being truthful, even if it was by choice.

Regardless, Rafael nodded again, fingers curling around those of the pianist as Sebastian used his free hand to pull the far side of the shelf towards him, revealing a dark staircase.

“You’re not leading me to my death, are you?” he quipped, earning a laugh from the musician.

“No, I promise. You’re safe with me, come on,” Sebastian answered, gently tugging Rafael down the stairs.

His heart pounded in his chest and his fingers squeeze Sebastian’s tighter as the bookshelf they’d walked through closed again, darkening their descent down the mysterious stairs. He could see a dim glow ahead of them as the reached the bottom of the stairs, which had opened up to an intimate, lavish space. Red-velvet banquets with crème-colored wooden trims lined half of the room, each with a single, small candle sitting in the center of the table. At the back of the room was a bar, where he could see a bronze bust of Marie Antoinette from which one of the bartenders was pouring draft beer. Along the walls hung gilded mirrors and neoclassical paintings alternating above each booth.

“How do you know about this place?” Rafael asked, smiling at Sebastian.

“My buddy’s girlfriend brought us here a couple years ago,” the musician answered. “Pretty cool, right?”

Nodding, Rafael chuckled as the shorter man led him to the corner booth. “It’s amazing, Sebastian.”

He took off his jacket and sat down, his fingertips grazing against the white, marble table. The musician sat beside Rafael, leaving just enough space between them to be considered polite as he draped an arm over the back of the booth. Almost immediately, a server came to their table to hand them menus and welcome them to the speakeasy style hidden bar before she walked away to let decide what they wanted.

“Any recommendations?”

Sebastian’s lips parted as he looked down at the small list of drinks, all with original names. “Well, you’re a scotch guy, right? I’d go with the Du Barry.”

“What are you having?” Rafael looked to the man beside him, taking a moment to eye his thick sideburn that led to a lighter five o’clock shadow.

“Probably the Macravate,” Sebastian answered, looking back at Rafael. “You hungry? Their strip horderve is pretty good.”

The ADA smiled and nodded. “That sounds great.”

“I like it medium rare, how bout you?”

“Medium rare is perfect,” Rafael answered.

The two ordered as soon as their server came back before Sebastian turned his eyes back to the prosecutor. “So how’d your case go?”

Rafael blinked at the sound of the other man’s voice. “Hm? Oh!” He turned his head to set his eyes on the empty stage in front of them.

“You said you had court today,” Sebastian replied.

“Yes, I did. I, um...I did what you said,” Rafael said, bringing his eyes back to the musician’s as the corner of his lips curled. “I didn’t offer a deal, I uh...I argued the case.”

Sebastian smiled at him. “You did? And?”

For a moment the ADA silently savored the look of admiration the pianist bestowed on him and he wondered how a simple expression could make him feel as though he could take on the world blindfolded. As if he could do absolutely anything he set his mind to. “Actually I lost.”

The musician appeared distraught as he sucked his teeth and brought a hand up to rub over his face. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He sighed heavily and shut his eyes. “I don’t even know much about the law to try to give you advice. Fuck, I should’ve just kept my big mouth shut.”

Rafael smirked gently and shook his head. “To be honest, after the verdict I thought I’d maybe made a mistake, that I should’ve just offered him the deal. But then...the victim came up to me outside the courtroom and she thanked me.”

Sebastian looked up at the ADA, who met his gaze in turn.

“She said that I and SVU had been the only people that hadn’t tried to sweep the whole thing under the rug. That out of everyone she told--the school, her parents--we were the only ones that fought for her even if it was hopeless that he would be punished,” Rafael said. “I may have lost the case, but I’m fairly certain we helped that young woman get some of her dignity back.”

The pianist smiled with one side of his mouth, and the look of adoration was back, twinkling in his eyes like a brightly burning star and making Rafael’s heart swell.

“So I’m glad I listened to you,” he said, briefly resting his hand over Sebastian’s thigh. “You were right.” Pulling his hand away, he took a sip of his drink when their server came back with them. “Besides, I happen to like your mouth very much.”

Sebastian snorted bashfully, swallowing as his eyes roamed over the ADA’s hairline, following the dark locks along the nape of Rafael’s neck. He licked his lips at the thought of kissing over the pulse he could see beating subtly against the collar of Rafael’s shirt.

“I like your mouth, too,” he mumbled.

Rafael smirked back at the musician. “And how was your day?”

Pursing his lips, Sebastian took a swallow of his own drink. “I finished a song today. It’s first one I’ve finished in what feels like forever.”

“That’s amazing!” It was his turned to grace the musician with a pride-filled expression.

“Yeah, it is…” The pianist seemed to contemplate his next words, his eyes focused on the liquid in his glass as his lips parted and sealed in deep thought. “I was um...I was thinking about you when I wrote it.”

It was Rafael’s turn to blush as a grin spread over his face. “You were?”

Sebastian nodded, and Rafael found himself settling back against the cushion on the booth, the collar of his shirt making contact with the other man’s arm. He could feel the usual tension in his shoulders that he’d come to accept as normal fade, as though the pianist’s words had been water washing it away. A tingle fell over his arms and his heart was a moth fluttering wildly against a hot light.

“I’d really love to hear it,” he said, hand going to rest on Sebastian’s knee.

He smiled when the shorter man blushed and nodded his head. “Sure, I’ll play it for you sometime.” Sebastian met eyes with the ADA, sighing softly. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Rafael arched a brow, corner of his lips gently tugging upward. “Sure.”

“What are you uh...what are you looking for?” Sebastian asked, shifting his eyes to the table as his finger idly followed a dark-grey vein on the marble top.

Rafael inhaled through his nose and looked down to follow the movements of the pianist’s thick finger as he thought about his answer. What was he looking for? If he were being honest, for the longest time he hadn’t been looking for anything. Neither a one night stand nor a long term relationship. His work had simply monopolized his time, and he’d allowed it to, at the very least to distract himself from the loneliness of being single.

For years it had worked, then he met Sebastian and Rafael had gone from complicit workaholic to eager romantic. It was unsettling, that one man could ignite his long-forgotten desires with a single glance.

“If you’d asked me last week, I would’ve probably said nothing,” he answered. “My experience with relationships hasn’t exactly been the best. I eventually started to just dive into my work and that way I could tell myself that I didn’t have time for much else. Part of that is true, my job is demanding, but...I often take on a heavy caseload not because I have to, but because I didn’t want any time to think about whether I would ever meet someone or whether I could ever even have a life outside of courtrooms and galas and fundraisers.

“These last few days have made me start thinking about all of that again, meeting you spending time with you...it’s given me hope again. And if I’m being honest, it scares me a little bit because--to answer your question--if I open myself up to feeling that hope, I would want it to be for a connection that would turn into something more serious down the line.” He took a deep breath, still watching Sebastian’s finger on the table before he carefully met the musician’s eyes. “What about you? What are you looking for?”

The blonde held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity and let out a soft sigh and lowered his eyes, mumbling, “Something real.”

“Monogamous,” Rafael offered.

Sebastian nodded slowly, chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah...monogamous.”

Rafael smirked as he, too, nodded. “I’d really like for us to keep seeing each other.”

“Me too,” Sebastian answered, looking up and smiling back at the ADA. His eyes fell and the smile on his face grew. “Your freckles are really cute, you know that?”

Chuckling, Rafael absently brushed his fingers over his nose as his cheeks and the back of his neck grew hot at the compliment. He’d gotten plenty before, about his eyes, his prowess in the courtroom, even his ass a few times, but never the freckles on his nose. Bringing his eyes back to Sebastian's, he found the musician still smiling at him.

Before he could say anything, Sebastian slowly leaned forward and captured his lips. Rafael moaned when he felt the other man’s finger thread into the hair on the back of his head. He could hear the thumping of his heart and feel his ears throbbing along as his own hand moved to lace his fingers in the other man’s short, thick hair. Sebastian hummed against his lips and the gentle vibrations sent a tingle down the center of his sternum, all the way down to his balls. Moaning in response, Rafael tilted his head as his mouth opened to grant the musician entrance. His tongue brushed against Sebastian’s as sparks ignited in the pit of his stomach, spreading over his body and settling below his waist.

It had been quite some time since he’d been with anyone--man or woman--and his body was beginning to remember just how long it had been. The scruff on Sebastian’s chin tickled his own, sending shivers over Rafael’s spine as the hand in his hair settled over the pounding in his chest. He slid closer to the other man, fingers combing through thick, blonde locks while tongues explored the details inside each other’s mouths.

Just when the tingles in his balls began traveling to his shaft, Sebastian pulled away slowly, forehead resting against his own.

“That--” Rafael cleared his throat when his voice cracked. “That was amazing...different than the kiss I got this morning.”

The pianist chuckled under his breath. “This morning was a daytime-appropriate kiss.”

“Fair enough,” Rafael mumbled with a grin.

Swallowing, he turned his head to take another sip from his drink. Despite his fear of opening his heart to someone again, he allowed himself to feel the giddiness that came from being in Sebastian’s company, the sparks of electricity that crackled between them any time their eyes would meet and the warmth that fell over him when the pianist would grace him with a smile. He was ready to plunge feet-first into whatever the world had in store for them, and moreover he wasn’t afraid of the fall.

#rafael barba x male #the prosecutor and the piano bar

16 notes · View notes

figureskatingsecretsanta · 6 years

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to: @balletfever89 from: @canadianplatonics

To my dear friend Ale. A fic that I promised to you just over a year ago, and it’s finally getting written! Well, partially.

I hope that you have a merry Christmas and a safe and joyful time with your family and friends. Best wishes for the New Year, and thank you again for putting this secret Santa project together. I know it stresses you out, but everything always turns out so nicely! Much love ---Mar

Our Little Secret

“Welcome to the zoo, Christmas lights edition,” Scott whispered into her hair.

Tessa gripped the stroller tightly and took a slow step forward; taking in the entrance area she had seen only a few hours prior. They had gone back to the hotel for dinner and a nap (for all of them) with plans to return later in the evening to see the lights.

At first, Tessa had been skeptical of the idea, worrying that it might get too cool in the evenings given the light jackets they had packed. But after some pleading from her persistent husband and a quick look at the temperature on her phone, it isn’t that bad Tess, she had agreed.

And she’d also extracted a promise from him of hot chocolate. So that helped.

“Look at the trees Mama!”

“Lights!

The stroller jerked as Liam sprung to life, eager to follow after his older sister.

Vanessa stood under the arch of trees. Over her head, the branches were wrapped with multi coloured lights that lit the pathway and cast bright streams of colour which reflected in her entranced green eyes. Twinkling white lights were curled around the fence outlining the path for them and along its base danced animal figures made of wire and wrapped in lights.

“This one looks like a lady bug,” Vanessa giggled, dropping into a crouch in front of one of the glowing creatures.

“What about the one beside it?” Tessa quizzed, curious if she could remember. Vanessa brushed off her pants and stood to her full height. She wrinkled her small button nose in concentration.

“A kangaroo!”

“Good girl,” Tessa smiled brightly and moved to the front of the stroller to help Liam down so he could see the lights too. She pulled his loose hat down over his ears and dropped a small kiss onto his forehead before lifting him from his seat and setting him down.

“Sissy show!”

Liam toddled over to the fence and knelt, reaching his baby fingers towards the lights.

“Hot! Don’t touch!” Tessa called, and Liam took a step back from the fence and pouted. Surely the lights were selected so that if they were touched, they wouldn’t burn anyone, but nonetheless she didn’t want him getting into a habit of touching lit objects.

Scott patted his head affectionately and then moved to her side, taking her hand. Tessa smiled fondly and gripped the left handle of the stroller with her free hand.

“Alright, stay on the path and listen to Mama and Daddy.”

And they began their walk through the canopy of lights.

--------------------

“Are you sure they’re okay over there?”

“Sure they are, we’ll hear a giant splash if either of them wanders too far and falls into the reflection pool.”

“Scott!” She gasped, horrified at the thought of looking up to find one of their children had tumbled, head first probably, into the shallow pool. It would end in laughter no doubt, but would also end in a soaked car seat and a warm bath that she would have to administer later.

“I’m kidding,” he squeezed her waist, fingers pressing into her hip through her light jacket, and pulled her against him, “they’re fine T, lighten up. It’s Christmas.”

“Christmas season,” she corrected him, “not actually Christmas. Christmas is meant to be light, and fun. The Christmas season on the other hand…” is pretty much hell on earth. All of the decorating, and the baking, and the organizing of the big family Christmas, a task that had been handed to her from her own Mother to share with Jordan two Christmases ago, made for a solid fourth of her year spent constantly stressing out.

“Hey,” he interrupted her thoughts gently and urged her to meet his eyes, “you remember why we took this trip right?”

She did remember.

She remembered when they were planning a trip, somewhere warm but not too far from home.

“To get some time away with the kids. To make good happy memories while they’re still young. To have some time away from the bloody snow.”

“Yes to all of the above,” he laughed, “including the snow. Though I have no doubt it’s waiting for us when we return.”

“No doubt.”

“We took the trip to de-stress a bit before both of our crazy families started needing our attention,” he joked, “so please try to relax.”

Her eyes drifted over to the blanket they had stretched out on the cement just off to the side. Vanessa was entranced by her glow wand. She skipped around in circles around Liam, waving it, and Liam clapped his hands in amusement. Her trilling voice sang out an old nursery rhyme that Kate must have taught her.

Christmas is coming.

The geese are getting fat.

Please put a penny in the old man’s hat.

Vanessa took a dramatic bow and peeked up from under her wool hat at both of them. She winked and waved once before resuming her dance, taking extra care to mind the cement barrier surrounding the reflection pool. The fountains jutted out and shot water into the air, masking the glowing lights from the other side of the pathway and cast a bright green glow over them that became red, then blue, then white, then green again.

Tessa worried her lip between her teeth, but didn’t make a move to rise and draw them closer.

“They’re happy and playing nicely,” Scott pointed out. She followed his line of vision to see that he was also watching the pair who had now switched to playing with their stuffed animals from the gift shop earlier. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, threatening to overtake his entire face. It wasn’t often that they got along for this length of time, but Tessa was thankful for the only minor bickering she had to put a stop to throughout the day. “They seem happy, we all had fun, just live sweetheart.”

“Except when you were scared half to death.”

“Yeah well, they shouldn’t have talking Moose heads on a walking trail.”

A burst of laughter filled the space between them as she remembered his terrified expression and the way he scooped Liam up and took a step to shield himself behind her. A seemingly blow up moose head had called out to them in passing, complimenting Vanessa’s coat and Scott had jumped a near foot from the ground.

“You saw it coming!”

“Yeah, except I wasn’t aware that it had a human in there.”

“Sure,” she nudged him with her shoulder and winked, “I can’t believe it scared you that bad. It’s a winter moose and we’re Canadian for goodness sakes.”

“It could be a winter rabbit and it’s still not cool.”

“That would actually be kind of creepy.”

“And a moose isn’t?!”

“Well, maybe a little bit.”

Admittedly it would look strangely like a horrifying version of the Easter bunny, and Tessa wasn’t even sure she would have been okay with that. But the moose was cute, and stayed in his or her designated frame along the side of the walking path. It’s still a freaking mascot T! He had shivered and hurried them away from the creature as fast as possible after Tessa had paused to take Vanessa and Liam’s photo.

“I much preferred walking under the lights, holding your hand and pushing an empty stroller.”

Tessa laughed. Liam had insisted that he wanted to walk, and squirmed every time she tried to pick him up and put him back in his seat. So after a short discussion, they had decided it was okay for him to walk with Vanessa, so long as both listened to Tessa and Scott when they were told something. And both children had been surprisingly good. They had walked a few paces ahead of Tessa and Scott, squealing with delight and pointing and naming each of the animals they seen along the way. Tessa had let go of his hand to take photos, but apart from that, their hands remained braided between them.

“I liked that part too,” she admitted. Tessa scooted closer to him so that their hips were touching and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. Truth be told, it had been a long day. A long day with lots of walking. Her eyes fluttered and she lifted her hand to stifle a yawn.

“Do you want to get going?”

“No,” she protested, sitting up again, “they’re just about to begin Christmas carols and I at least want to hear a couple of them.”

“Fair enough.”

As if summoned by her words, the piano began. Twinkling notes floated through the air and people turned to watch the group of three men and two women gather around the microphones.

O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree

How lovely are thy branches

Scott had begun to hum along to their melody and an impish smile began to creep onto his face. Tessa arched an eyebrow. What are you planning?

“Do you actually know the words to this song?”

“I don’t have to know more than three words to sing this one.”

Tessa slid away from him and clapped her hands over her ears just in time for his mouth to open into a wide O as he sang along with the Christmas carol. It was a running joke of theirs that his singing was dangerous to the average person and caused them minor hearing loss, but the truth is, his singing was beautiful to her. When he was trying.

And by trying, she didn’t mean belting out the same three obviously off tune lyrics and drawing the words out when the melody of the song warranted it.

“O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Treeee, Oh Christmas Tree!”

A couple who was seated not far from them bowed their heads to chuckle at his antics and her cheeks turned pink. People were starting to stare at them, at Scott. No one seemed annoyed, but that didn’t stop their amused glances towards them.

She moved her hands from her ears and tugged on his forearm.

“Scott, come on!”

“Nope, sorry T, O Chriiistmas Treeee O—“

Unable to stand the stares anymore Tessa shoved her mouth against his, abruptly cutting off his overblown singing. His arms, which were gesturing wildly in time with his voice descended like a snowflake, slowly and delicately. One of his hands rested on the back of her head, cradling her neck while the other caressed the small of her back through her jacket.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tessa noticed people looking away and she smiled against his lips.

“Casually saving the day,” she teased. Singing forgotten, Scott dipped her backwards over his arm so that her back was nearly to the cement and leaned over her. His eyes twinkled and his hair

fell out from under his hat to cover his forehead. Tessa puffed lightly and the hair danced across his skin.

“What are you on about, while I’m kissing you?” He nudged her cheek with his nose and it took almost everything in her not to pull off his hat to tangle her hands in his hair.

Not now, hotel room. When the kids are asleep. Bathroom.

“Hmm,” she pushed gently against his chest and they rose up, straightening their coats. One quick glance at the children told them that they hadn’t noticed. They were still playing with their animals.

“These people don’t know it but I’m saving innocent bystanders from the negative health effects of listening to you sing.” She continued, mock puffing her chest out.

Scott jabbed her in the stomach and she shrank in on herself with a giggle.

“Oh come on, you seem alright and Nessa and Liam too. I’m not that bad.”

“No, you aren’t that bad.”

“Want to dance?” Scott stood and offered her his hand and without even thinking, she stood to join him, easily falling into his embrace. He held their joined hands to his chest and swayed gently back and forth.

Let us all remember

In our gift giving and our merriment

With our family and friends and loved ones

The real and true meaning of Christmas

This was the kind of singing she loved. When his voice dropped to a baritone and his lips brushed against her ear, whispering each of the words to her like a prayer.

“Okay I admit it,” she mumbled in content, “you have an amazing singing voice.”

Scott laughed and buried his nose in her hair.

“Only you get to hear it. You and the kids of course.”

“It’s our little secret.”

#fs secret santa #fic gift

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wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey · 6 years

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Reputation: I have a lot of emotions

Alright so the Saturday after Reputation came out, I bought the album on itunes because I loved the singles and because @itspileofgoodthings and @thelonelybrilliance have long been winning me over to Taylor Swift. I spent the next two or three hours listening to the album, and Emma was amazing and listened to me freaking out. However, I can’t not share my initial reactions with Maria, so girl, this transcript of my reactions is dedicated to you and Emma and I hope you enjoy!

1. “Ready for It”

I wasn’t expecting Ready for It to be the first song but the name fits and honestly it is a GREAT choice because it has the cool intense intro thing idk what is that called a bass thing? It is a great mix of the intensity and also the sweet breathless flowing faery melody

I don’t know how to talk about music

I just love it

2. “End Game”

End Game isn’t my fave but I liked it “I wanna be your a-team” :) and the friendship between ed and taylor is sweet

3. “I Did Something Bad”:

HOLY HECK I LOVE I DID SOMETHING BAD WHAT NOW THE SOUND My JAM

I LOVE IT I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY IT’S DELIGHTFUL AND LIKE I KNOW IT’S OVER THE TOP KINDA BUT THAT MAKES IT AMAZING “I DON’T REGRET IT ONE BIT BECAUSE HE HAD IT COMING AND I’D DO IT OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN” I LOVE THAT PART AND HOW IT DESCENDS AND DEEPENS

MAYBE SHE IS A WITCH AND MAYBE SHE ISN’T BUT HECK SIGN HER UP FOR THE BURNING

And my fave is that this is the same singer who in a few songs sings “Call It What You Want”

4. “Don’t Blame Me”

It’s like the classic lady killer in love trope but reversed. And I swear there are fictional characters out there I can connect this to but I have to think

OMG IT’S SO CATCHY AND I AM EVEN OK WITH HER SAYING I’M YOUR BABY EVEN THOUGH I USUALLY CAN’T STAND THAT TERM USED ROMANTICALLY

5. “Delicate”

Delicate is so aptly named it is so tentative and fragile and that frightened feeling of “I think this is love?? Would you hate me if I told you that?”

6. “Look What You Made Me Do”

I. LOVE. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO. Despite the chorus, which is kind of bland and repetitive but the rest of the song is so freaking awesome like I don’t even care and I even sing along enthusiastically to it and maybe have started to appreciate it (the chorus).

The song has the same delicious musical vibe as I did something bad. It’s: don’t mess with me anymore, I am so done with y’all, I don’t even care anymore, I’m the nightmare now......except secretly underneath you know there IS caring for other people’s opinions and yearning to love and be loved and that makes it even better??

7. “So It Goes”

I love the first verse best, the magician , the mesmerizing, the dark enchantment...and I say dark because I don’t know how I feel about the rest of the lyrics...but the SOUND is amazing and I am totally already making up a story in my head to reconcile my conflicted feelings because the music here and taylor’s voice and the whispered 1, 2, 3 have entranced me--like magic

8. “Gorgeous”

Gorgeous....GORGEOUS! WHISKEY ON ICE, SUNSET AND VINE, WHAT BEAUTIFUL EVOCATIVE IMAGERY!!!

I love Emma’s connection with her story Match, but also...don’t laugh too much...you know how I love Dick Grayson, and I feel this is literally how I would feel if I were in the same room with him. Overwhelmed by his stupid pretty face and unable to function properly let alone say hello

Gorgeous is THE unexpected crush song, the oh my gosh I just met a masterpiece, the I don’t believe in love at first sight I mean I thought I didn’t, the I would literally die if you looked me in the eye because that would be a fairytale and if we actually fell in love I don’t know what I would do

THAT RING OF THE SPOON ON THE CHAMPAGNE GLASS (IN MY HEAD AT LEAST) IS A MAGICAL FAIRY BELL, OR MAYBE A FAIRY’S LAUGHTER, OR THE HERALD OF WEDDING RECEPTIONS AND CALLS FOR THE BRIDE AND GROOM TO KISS

IT’S THE IMAGINATION AND THE BIRTH OF CRAZY BEAUTIFUL HOPES

9. “Getaway Car”

Did Taylor just riff off of A Tale of Two Cities??? And run with it? I STRUCK A MATCH AND BLEW YOUR MIND

I CANNOT WITH THIS SONG UGH MY HEART this song is BEAUTIFUL and TRAGIC

It’s a love brilliant and glorious like a sun flare, its a desperate wish for something better than the stupid mistakes of the past and bitter fights and broken hearts

Like here she has met this wonderful nigh perfect man who is just as in love and ready as she is to jump in that car and leave the world and everything awful behind but which is more important the devastation they are fleeing from or the vision they dream of?

And whatever the answer to that is, it doesn’t matter because the future they hoped for in their hearts could be nothing more than an wish, a mirage, because as wonderful as both of them are, they are just not fated for each other, they just won’t love each other like they want to

And SHE LEFT HIM AND CALLS HERSELF A TRAITOR AND FEELS SHE DESERVES WHAT SHE GETS FOR THAT--THAT SHOT THROUGH THE HEART, THAT SHE FIRED

BUT IT ALSO HAD TO HAPPEN

AND IT IS THIS TANGLE OF VINES OF MISERY AND BEAUTY AND GRACE...YES GRACE BECAUSE AS MUCH AS THIS ALL MAKES ME WANT TO CRY THERE IS STILL A FEELING THAT DESPITE THE GRIEF AND HURT THIS ISN’T LIKE OTHER TIMES WHEN SHE HAS BROKEN UP WITH SOMEONE

BECAUSE THEY WERE NOT SO MUCH WRONG FOR EACH OTHER AS JUST NOT RIGHT FOR EACH OTHER

AND SO WHILE THE HURT IS SHARP IT IS NOT SO DEADLY TO LOVE IN GENERAL

Okay I have listened to it four times I need to move on

10. “King of My Heart”

Ok maybe it’s just because I am coming down from Getaway Car but I am not as into King of My Heart at least music-wise. The lyrics are sweet and precious though, just the sound doesn’t capture me like the rest of the rest of the songs

The term “King of My Heart” is a really beautiful term, styling the man as someone who not only has her love but also her respect...this is someone who does not need to impress her with fancy cars, he just needs to be him

My fave lyric: “Late in the night, the city’s asleep / Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, / dying to keep”

And you can just imagine sitting on a rooftop far far above the distant city lights, with the faint hum of traffic, and no one knows that your world has shifted and broken and been shaped into something new, and so you nestle the gift of his love in your heart and just wonder how in the world any of this is real

11. “Dancing with Our Hands Tied”

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED HURTS MY HEART. IT HURTS BECAUSE IT SOUNDS TO ME LIKE A DOOMED LOVE AND SHE TRIED SO HARD TO IGNORE THE FORESIGHT SHE HAD

And she tried so hard to hold on

“My, my love had been frozen Deep blue, but you painted me golden Oh, and you held me close Oh, how was I to know what”

THIS. THIS HURTS

Because it’s like he tried and it seemed like things could be good and beautiful, and there might be a chance for it all to work out, but it’s telling that he wasn’t able to change her, to unfreeze her love. He only painted over it...gold yes, but paint nonetheless

Her certainty, “I knew” and then the telling truth “I had a bad feeling.” Some things are too good to be true, too sweet to last when the bitter, callous, selfish world wants what it wants

“Can we dance / oh, through an avalanche” like what an impossible task, what a beautiful wish. A love like that...would be everything. Withstanding all the world together, no matter the wounds and hurt, picking each other up and moving on after every hit. And it doesn’t seem to have worked out this time? But maybe it will

12. “Dress”

AAAAHHHHH DRESS IS REALLY PRETTY SOUNDING AND I LIKE CERTAIN OF THE LYRICS BUT UH I JUST CAN’T IT’S TOO MUCH

Slow down, girl :) but also some of it is really cute. I could maybe handle it better if she didn’t say she didn’t want him like a best friend because I need it to be both..ah well

On the other hand I love the lyrics to the verse about the flash back, and the lines “Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me” and they do expound upon friendship and love and make the Eros more palatable

13. “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things”

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA i LOVE THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS IT’S SO FUNNY

It moves past bitterness and is just like LOL yeah I’m not dealing with you, peace out, bye

*full out cackle* I CAN’T EVEN SAY IT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE I’M DYING

And it’s almost like she is talking to a little kid at one point. Look, son, you break stuff I gotta take it away, when will you learn

I NEED VIDEOS TO LIKE FIFTY TV SHOWS FOR THIS I CAN’T

14. “Call It What You Want”

AND NOW WE MOVE ON TO MY FAVE. CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT! EVERYTHING IS HEALED!!!

After the ups and downs of the album, of life...everything still matters, still happened, previous loves and previous heart-wounds and previous sins but also none of it threatens her life anymore, her heart

“My castle crumbled overnight I brought a knife to a gunfight They took the crown but it’s alright All the liars are calling me one Nobody’s heard from me for months I’m doing better than I ever was”

THE MOST BRILLIANT JUXTAPOSITION

The songs begins with her home, her dreams destroyed, with her bad decisions open for the world to mock, with her crown kicked down a hill by detractors and fools and the wisest alike

But she says it is alright. It’s okay. And we wonder why?

People call her a liar, say she is fake, say whatever they think or want. Maybe she is gone forever--who has seen Taylor at all, let alone knows who she really even is at this point...

And so we all think, maybe this is it. Maybe Taylor is dead.

BUT ACTUALLY

SHE IS BETTER THAN SHE EVER WAS!!!!

the old Taylor is dead? I THINK NOT

She has merely walked (flown) down the path we all must take, and maybe she has stepped on more thorns or fallen to the dirt more often, maybe she has scraped knees and heart-blood seeping through her white sweaters, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t found a life she happy to live, things worth fighting for, someone who will fight for her...someone who she doesn’t need to fight, only cherish

And so she can sing whatever the hell she wants, “I Did Something Bad” or “Getaway Car” or “Look What You Made Me Do” or “Gorgeous”

It’s ALL Taylor

..........................when the heck did I come to care so much

“My baby’s fit like a daydream” lol this is so cute and she seems so proud of that and it’s adorable

“Walking with his head down I’’m the one he’s walking to” I CANNOT!!! HE DOESN’T SEE HER WATCHING HIM BUT HE JUST WALKS TOWARD HER, SO FOCUSED, PROBABLY CAUGHT UP IN HOW MUCH HE LOVES HER, OR MAYBE THINKING OF NOTHING IMPORTANT BUT SHE JUST LOVES HIM SO MUCH AND IT’S LIKE WHEN YOU SEE SOMEONE DOING SOMETHING INSIGNIFICANT, LIKE YOUR MOM COOKING DINNER OR YOUR BROTHER BENT OVER HIS HOMEWORK AND YOU JUST GO “I FREAKING LOVE THIS PERSON”

My fave verse: “All my flowers grew back as thorns Windows boarded up after the storm He built a fire just to keep me warm”

HE JUST QUIETLY LOVES HER JUST SEES HER THORNS AND IS LIKE THAT’S NICE AND PRESSES HER PETALS AND POINTS ALIKE INTO HIS HEART AND HE KNOCKS ON HER SHUTTERS TILL SHE OPENS THEM

Also OMG remember how in Dancing with Our Hands Tied her love was frozen? HE DOESN’T PAINT HER TO LOOK BRIGHTER AND WARMER NO HE FREAKING BUILDS A FIRE TO WARM HER

“All the drama queens taking swings All the jokers dressing up as kings” THERE IS ONLY ONE KING OF HER HEART

“They fade to nothing when I look at him And I know I make the same mistakes every time Bridges burn, I never learn At least I did one thing right I did one thing right” ASDFGHJKL THE QUIET PEACE THAT COMES FROM THIS

“I’m laughing with my lover Making forts under the covers Trust him like a brother”

This is not a love so passionate that it shatters like stressed glass. no, it is a love warm and intense and real and giving and receiving and thoughtful and playful

TRUST HIM LIKE A BROTHER GOSH THERE IS NO LINE I LOVE MORE. IF YOU CANNOT TRUST YOUR MAN LIKE YOU DO YOUR BRO, TO CARE FOR YOU AND BACK YOU UP AND FIGHT FOR YOU AND TELL YOU WHEN YOU ARE BEING STUPID AND FORGIVE YOU AND ASK FOR FORGIVENESS AND ALL THAT

THEN WHAT ARE YOU

IF YOU CAN’T JOKE AS MUCH OR BE AS DEADLY SERIOUS AS YOU CAN WITH A BROTHER

THEN WE JUST CAN’T BE A THING

“I recall late November, holding my breath Slowly I said, ‘You don’t need to save me But would you run away with me?’ Yes (would you run away?)

YESSSSSS LOVE LOVE LOVE IT DO IT TAY RUN AWAY WITH THIS GUY

15. “New Year’s Day”

GENTLE AND ALL THE LOVE AND FLUTTERING FEELING OF A BELOVED HAND SQUEEZING YOURS THREE! TIMES IN A TAXI

“Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor” anyone who doubts Taylor’s poetic abilities can shut the heck up thanks

“Don’t read teh last page But I stay when you’re lost, and I’m scared And you’re turning away” So hopeful and so nervous at the same time

“Please don’t ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere” AAAAHHHHH RIGHT IN THE FEELS I AM DEAD

#reputation killed me #i love the songs sooo much and i can't pick a fave #taylor swift #monica becomes a taylor swift fan #getaway car #call it what you want #so it goes #magical music #itspileofgoodthings #thelonelybrilliance #i don' really do cuts sorry

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greybat · 6 years

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Fire & Leeches - Ch. 7

Ch. 7: We Need To Talk Alt Title: I swear I wrote this before the last update...

Ao3 Link

General Summary: Modern!AU (with magic.) Xixa is… well, not really enjoying but not hating a night out with Asra at one of Vesuvia’s famed clubs. However, her curiosity and interest become piqued when a particular band takes the stage.

Chapter Summary: Julian drops another surprise on Xixa during the show. When he approaches her afterward, she tells him they "need to talk" and drags him out to an alley.

The witch blinked, startled at the sudden interruption to her introspection. Her gaze flickered to the source just as Nadia placed a hand on her shoulder. The purple-haired woman always gave Xixa comforting and warm touches. Xixa smiled up at the imposing figure as she helped herself to a seat, settling her pink cocktail drink onto the table.

Xixa’s brain finally pieced the voice to her face. “Nadia! Good to see you.”

“So, what are you doing at this…” Nadia paused, looking around the pub. True to its name, the Rowdy Raven was full of loud raucousness and some rude gestures. The woman simply settled on, “Establishment?”

“A friend’s band is playing.”

“Really now?” Nadia raised her eyebrows, but there was a slight glint in her red eyes. “I thought only the Fire & Leeches were playing tonight.”

A mildly forbidding miasma descended on Xixa’s intuition. Was that a mistake to talk about? Regardless, the witch knew she was in too deep. “That’s the band.”

“You do realize that Asra’s ex is part of that band?” Nadia’s eyes widened, but – despite her apparent shock – the woman took a sip of her drink.

The miasma darkened a little further. The witch’s heart pounded and her palms itched with nerves. Xixa’s mind raced for an answer to the situation. As she fell silent, Nadia stared at her with prying red eyes. She agonized over running into Nadia, over letting slip why she was there. Xixa could have very well said she was taking in the nightlife, as unlikely as that was.

“What are you doing at the Rowdy Raven, Nadia?” Xixa suddenly asked, raising her eyebrows at the elegant woman. Dressed in a dark purple cocktail dress, Nadia reminded Xixa of a rather casual imperial empress and not a barfly. “It doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“Nor yours,” Nadia replied, a contemplative look crossing her features. Turning her eyes to the stage, where Fire & Leeches were set up and, apparently, discussing a last minute detail. Her lips twitched into a slight frown, “I, too, have an acquaintance in the band. He plays bass.”

“Valerius?” Xixa squawked. She couldn’t imagine Valerius and Nadia knowing each other. It seemed to surreal. Then again, Asra and Julian had been an item, so their friendships were bound to have some overlap.

The woman didn’t answer Xixa. Instead, she sipped her cocktail while staring intently at the stage. The lights were dimming and Julian seemed to be doing his introductory spiel. It seemed the conversation had ended. Turning her attention to the stage, Xixa wondered if Julian would recognize Nadia.

Xixa recognized most of the songs. Drag That Blade, a slow and oddly erotic melody with somewhat bittersweet lyrics. Bottom’s Up, a light-hearted and somewhat jokey tune. A Raven’s Warning, fast-paced and desperate and always made Xixa’s heart race with excitement. She couldn’t fully enjoy the music, though. Her eyes kept drifting back to Nadia, her expression a neutral mask.

After about nine songs, the show seemed to be winding toward its end. Xixa thanked the stars, eager to leave Nadia’s presence. As much as she enjoyed the woman’s company, this setting and situation was grinding on Xixa’s worries. She just wanted to enjoy the night with the band, particularly Julian.

“This is our last song of the night. I know, I know, you’re going to miss us.” Julian grinned as the crowd jeered and whooped. His eye drifted across the audience, lingering on Xixa. His lips twisted into a smirk, despite the dusting of pink across his cheeks. Then again, it was probably hot under those lights. “This song was inspired by a particular person I’ve met recently.”

Oh no, was he meaning her? Xixa could feel her face heating with embarrassment. From Xixa’s peripheral, she noted Nadia’s head tilt toward her, eyebrows raised. Oh gosh, she was giving Xixa her subtly judging look. The witch’s face tingled from heat and she fought the urge to sink in her chair.

Without prompting – or perhaps that’s what the discussion before the set was about – a spotlight shifted toward Xixa’s table. It landed on Nadia. Xixa held her breath, watching Nadia warily. The purple-haired woman was clutching onto her drink so tightly, Xixa thought she heard the crack of glass.

Julian’s eye widened – Portia, meanwhile, was stifling giggles – and waved a hand. “Oh, god, no, not her. She wants me dead. The other one.”

The spotlight shuddered and swung to Xixa. For a second, she forgot how to breathe. The light was blinding compared to the darkened atmosphere before. Her body heat started to rise, making her cheeks and ears tingle with a livid blush.

Xixa faintly heard Julian clear his throat, before the lilt of music began. The words blurred together, melted, became a lump in her stomach. Vaguely, she caught lyrics about dancing and pain. The witch was aware of Nadia closely watching her.

What was she supposed to do? Her mind was racing with clashing thoughts and confusing feelings.

It wasn’t until a rousing round of applause, and jeers, sounded when Xixa surfaced from her inner turmoil. The band gave parting remarks, bowed, whatever it was bands did. Xixa still hadn’t fully recovered from her shock. Thankfully, during the song the spotlight had lifted from her.

“Do you want to slip out?” Nadia’s murmur dragged Xixa the rest of the way to awareness.

The witch turned her eyes to the woman. Nadia’s lips were turned downward, but concern was clear in her red eyes. Xixa chewed the inside of her cheek, glancing toward the exit. The idea was tempting, but something kept her glued to her chair.

Nadia leaned closer, her hand on Xixa’s shoulder. “We won’t have much time, Xixa.”

“I-I’m fine,” Xixa stuttered, heat licked painfully up her throat.

“Are you sure?” Worry creased at Nadia’s brow as she comfortingly squeezed Xixa’s shoulder.

Unable to find any more words, Xixa simply nodded. Nadia didn’t have a chance to further press the issue as a newcomer approached the table. Clear distaste sounded in Nadia’s voice as she greeted him. “Devorak.”

“Nadia.” Julian nodded, before turning his attention to Xixa. Leaning down, pressing a hand to her free shoulder, he whispered, “What did you think of the song?”

Something snapped in Xixa. She couldn’t do this. Abruptly, Xixa stood, grabbing Julian by the front of his shirt. The witch bodily dragged the man from the pub, without answering his yelped inquiries.

Nadia watched with quiet pensiveness as the witch and the redhead left the pub. Once the two were out of the door, the woman remained seated, staring at the exit. Something of great import weighed down on her thoughts. Finally, she rummaged around in her purse until she found her phone.

x x x

Outside the Rowdy Raven, the cool of the night washed over Xixa. She didn’t stop at the threshold, though. She nearly charged around the corner of the building, seeking quiet refuge.

“Xixa! What’s going on?” Julian squawked. His hands gently wrapped around her shirt-grasping fist. Concern bubbled up in his thoughts. Xixa had been sitting with Nadia. Who knows what they discussed?

Finally, Xixa found a quiet place near the back of the bar. She released his shirt and took a few steps away. Turning toward him, her face still burning with mortification, she crossed her arms. “We need to talk.”

Julian’s heart sank. Oh god, what had been said? Or had he done something wrong? He forced an easy-going smile to his lips, leaning back against a wall. Despite the nonchalant expression, his insides coiled with chaotic worry. “What’s on your mind?”

The witch closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She sorted through the swirl of words in her brain, trying to carefully pick her way around her feelings. “That was… That was too much.”

“What?” Julian blanched, a chill shooting through his chest.

“Putting the spotlight on me? A song?” Confusion tensed Xixa’s muscles as her fingers tightened against her arms. Her eyes drew away from him, staring toward the darkness at the other end of the alleyway. “And what was said in the dressing room?”

Julian’s mind ricocheted with Xixa’s words. She inspired the song, giving her recognition seemed appropriate. And the dressing room? His mind rewound until he could replay the brief time spent in the back with her. Portia had arrived, he was annoyed, Xixa was there. Valerius had been disgusted, Portia had teased about jealousy, and… he said ‘Of our love, of course. Isn’t that right, my dear?’

Oh, he fucked up, hadn’t he?

His stomach clenched and a cold shudder ran through his heart. One of Asra’s favorite complaints rang in his head: ‘clingy.’ Julian ran a hand through his hair, a desperate edge outlining his tone. Pushing himself off the wall – distancing himself away from the accusations ringing in his brain – Julian winced, “I had been joking in the dressing room!”

“But the song?” Xixa turned beseeching eyes toward him. Something in her trembled at the thought of Julian giving himself over to her. Entirely. It tasted like fear.

“It was true, you had inspired it.” Julian mentally floundered, running a hand through his hair. He had written the song in a flash of inspiration one slow night at work. The band had spent the last week toying with it, changing words and rhythms. With Xixa’s attendance, it seemed like a good time to debut it. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Julian shifted his weight and averted his gaze to the wall, remembering how nervous he had been to show the band those damned lyrics. “What was wrong with the spotlight?”

“You put me on the spot!” Xixa’s voice came out with a slightly hysterical laugh. Down the alley, a cat yowled in response, knocking over garbage cans. The clattering shot Xixa’s nerves with every tinny bang and clang. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. When she trusted herself to speak more levelly, she added, “I wasn’t prepared for it. I mean, couldn’t you have asked first?”

Well, that was reasonable. Julian’s bristled attitude smoothed a little. His shoulders sagged a bit as he looked away from the woman. Like a scolded child, he mumbled, “It was a last minute idea. I’m sorry.”

A bubble of quiet blossomed around them. Julian waded through his own guilt, unable to meet Xixa’s eye. The witch, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes from him now. Defeated and deflated, the man lost the glow he’d had from his show. She felt awful.

“It’s a lot to take all at once,” Xixa sighed, rubbing at her arms. Her gaze fell to her feet, worrying the inside of her cheek. “Asra is very hands off and, I guess, that’s what I’m used to.”

A sudden uncertainty sliced through Julian’s thoughts. Turning his gaze toward her, slowly, he narrowed his eye. There was a wary electricity buzzing in the air. Xixa noticed the changed and looked up in time to be faced with an almost accusatory question, “Are you two lovers?”

#thearcanagame #the arcana game #julian devorak #julian devorak x mc #nadia #xixa #my writing #we need to talk #are you two lovers?#omg why are you two doing this to me #This was supposed to be fun and silly and here you two are having a Serious Talk (tm) in an alleyway

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alhorner · 7 years

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The burden of being Bon Iver: How Justin Vernon fought fame and anxiety to make 22, A Million

If the defining mental image of Bon Iver till now has been of a melancholy man alone in the woods, 22, A Million is the sound of that man disappearing deeper into the trees, even further from prying eyes. “I don’t do well with things like that,” insists Justin Vernon, dressed down in Timberwolves hat and Les Mis tee, describing his struggle to pose for fan photos and the glare of life in the spotlight. 2011’s Grammy-winning Bon Iver, Bon Iver – released between high profile work on Kanye West’s Twisted Fantasy and Yeezus records – was a grand, autumnal indie epic that saw his unlikely celebrity status peak. All of a sudden, “some fucking dude from Wisconsin” (his words) was the subject of Justin Timberlake skits on Saturday Night Live and packing out arenas worldwide. In the few interviews he’s done in the years since, he’s given the impression of that relative fame tiring him, dreaming aloud to journalists about quitting music to open a breakfast cafe and “winding down” Bon Iver forever.

All of which makes you wonder if there’s an ulterior motive to the obscure sound (and even more obscure track titles) of his challenging third album. Vernon’s career exploded in 2007 with the campfire lullabies of For Emma Forever Ago – a creaky folk classic recorded in his father’s remote hunting cabin, having retreated from the world after a breakup. Almost a decade on, it sounds in the seldom interviews he now gives like he longs to escape again, or at least shake off some of the spotlight. “I have more recognition than I ever wanted to deal with,” he recently told The New York Times, explaining he’d taken his face out of all press shots for the new album because being constantly photographed over the last few years left him feeling “very exposed, with scarred skin from the whole experience. Not that it was all bad, but it wore down these outer layers, and everything kind of hurt.”

The sense of Vernon taking himself out of plain view on 22, A Million isn’t limited to the album’s faceless artwork. Inspired by cult Californian Richard Buckner, civil rights-era singer Bernice Johnson Reagon and “new toys in the studio”, it swaps out his traditional honeycomb heartbreak and acoustic confessionals for rough samples that jutter in and out of tracks.

Elsewhere, manipulated saxophones descend into discordant madness (‘21 M♢♢N WATER’), and Vernon’s Auto-Tuned vocals cross-stitch half-sentences and invented words (shout out “fuckified”) more impressionistically than before, leaving dreamy lyrical vapour trails across his music. It’s five tracks before you hit a song – the gorgeous ‘29 #Strafford APTS’ – that features really prominent guitar, an instrument that till now has always felt one of Vernon’s driving forces. The result is Bon Iver’s most ambitious and arresting album to date, but the one on which Vernon feels the most veiled.

Bon Iver’s old sound didn’t exactly chase mainstream embrace, but their new one seems to actively dart away from it. “I went looking for new sparks,” admits Vernon, speaking at a press conference in his hometown Eau Claire (instead of “sitting in hotel rooms in front of journalists” for the next few months “answering the same questions again and again”, he’s invited 20-or-so writers from around the world to give the world media his story out in one go). He was after an aesthetic, he says, that was “broken down and messed up. Because personally, with what I’d gone through and what other people I knew had gone through, I wanted to break down and crush something and do something aggressive sounding.” Which might explain the rumbling electronic pulse of ’10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⊠ ⊠’, the bit-crunched percussion and the deep bass of ’33 “GOD”‘, and many other moments on a record he describes as “more shouty” compared to his “whispering” of old.

Early on in the making of the album, Vernon suffered a spell he’s taken to calling “the European horribleness” – a trip to Santorini that saw him suffer anxiety attacks and paranoia. “Don’t go the Greek islands off season by yourself,” he laughs. “I was trying to find myself. Eurgh. I did not. I was incredibly bored, panicking a lot, walking around this town for a week by the ocean. I felt really poor at that time.”

Two albums into his career as Bon Iver, he’d hit a wall, unsure how to move it forward without lurching into the self-parody – the sadsack indie troubadour who in Timberlake’s SNL parody fashions a guitar out of a canoe while on a barefoot ramble. “Being sad about something is okay. But then wallowing in it, circling around the same cycles emotionally just feels boring. I needed to sound a little radical to feel good about putting something out into the world.”

Which is how a tiny white box the size of a pencil case became one of the driving instruments on 22, A Million. The TE OP-1 is a tiny sampler that Vernon found allowed him to experiment with ideas on the fly, recording hummed melodies and manipulating them till something leapt out. “A lot of moments on the record came from using that particular instrument,” he says. Its opening track is one of them, and started life on that failed Santorini trip. “I just heard this chorus in my head, one line.” He found himself humming one phrase on repeat: “It might be over soon”. “When I got back I sang some improvisation into the OP-1,” he remembers, falling in love with its “duality, like a paradox, a two-sides-of-the-coin thing.”

“It might be over soon” can sound like optimism that a pain or sadness may go away. But just as easily, it could mean that something beautiful is approaching its end. The first single, and blueprint for the rest of the record, ’22 (OVER S∞∞N)’, was born. After this breakthrough, “it wasn’t seeming very obvious to me anymore to pick up a guitar as often,” he says, describing the OP-1 having established a different “language” to the album that guitars didn’t fit into so neatly. “It wasn’t as fun or as easy and it took a longer time than I’d have liked, but that instrument in particular and other tools in the studio helped me to mess things up.” Where previous Bon Iver records felt like songs written and then recorded and produced, 22, A Million has the densely textured feel of a record on which production became crossed a frontier, becoming a part of the actual songwriting. “It was about setting up new toys and setting up zones, and trying not to get stuck in any technological toilet bowl,” he says.

Though much has changed for Bon Iver since his last outing five years ago, much remains the same. Even if they’re framed differently, by an increasingly electronic palette of sounds, it’s still wistfulness and romance that drive Vernon’s music. “Well, I’ve been carved in a fire,” he repeats on ‘_____45______’, a moment of sweetness that’d be called gospel, were its subtle organs not swamped in wild swelling saxophone harmonies created on a piece of software specially invented for the album, the Messina (named after engineer and close collaborator Chris Messina). “The older you get, the more aware you become of how minute our existence is. There’s this Louis CK quote I like: “It’s not your life. It’s just life.” I like that,” Vernon laughs. His point is to embrace and be humbled by the randomness of life, to lose yourself in it. After all – it might be over soon.

FACT, October 2016

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