#i should be writing my thesis but i said oh just a quick drawing to clear my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsbuckysworld · 5 years

Text

HELLO SPRING DAY 5

Pairing: Astronomy Student!Bucky X Psych Major!Reader Category: College AU! Warnings: fluff bomb! Word Count: 2.6K Guest Appearance: very very very briefly Steef Rawgers

i know i said no writing two prompts in one day but im doing so to catch up because as the “host” of this event I feel like I should be up to date.

I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE!

Day 5: Starry Night, for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

“Sorry!” Someone says, startling you out of your calm state. It’s 9pm and you’re lying on a blanket at the top of a tall hill in the park. The spot you had claimed as yours since the past week, where you come to relax and just breathe after long days. You always had a thing for laying down in the great outdoors to sort of unwind and let your body and mind breathe, and suddenly, there was a slight interruption, a bump of something hard and metallic against your outstretched leg. Opening one eye, clearly annoyed, you look to the intruder.

It’s a guy you’ve never seen before, his sweatpants hanging a little low on his hips and his short hair is messily pulled back as he circles clumsily around you looking up to the sky, bothering only slightly not to run you over with his… whatever he’s carrying. You sit up and notice his equipment, the heavy looking backpack, the small briefcase and the telescope he’s trying his hardest to set up. You deduce that’s what bumped into your leg as the guy continues to ignore your laying frame. He’s wearing glasses and he fixes them rashly, his face clean shaven and young.

You’re about to ask him to leave you alone and tell him this was your spot, as if you could claim a section of the public park, but he doesn’t let you begin when he’s crouching and looking through the lense excitedly, quickly reaching into his bag to take notes.

“Uhh, excuse me?” You start but he’s too busy looking at whatever he’s looking at, squinting through the tiny hole, to even chance a glance at you. In fact he shushes you as he takes his eye off the lease to scribble something hastily.

You give him a glare behind his back and scoot over closer to him “Hello! I was here first!” The guy all but whines.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m trying to work on my thesis”

Thesis? This guy couldn’t be much older than you. What? 23 tops? And he was working on his thesis? You notice all the scattered books that have flown out of his backpack in his frenzy to study the sky. Astronomy, Physics, The universe and us, A brief history of time.

After sitting there confused for a few seconds he finally addresses you, once more apologizing as his fingers maniacally tremble and play with the frames on his face. He’s shy, excitable, and giddy, almost reminds you of a puppy or a toddler, seeing the world for the first time, as he explains he’s an astronomy major, a freshman like you, and since day one he’s decided to study and try to catch patterns in the night sky and stars in a yearly basis, but first he had to find a spot that would allow him so, to sit and examine almost on the daily to grab the correct data. This, the tallest hill of the park – your spot to relax – was it.

“Well –“ you begin, sassily and brushing imaginary dust off your legs – “this was my relaxing spot first” you state matter-of-factly, returning to lay down as if claiming your territory and expecting him to pack up and leave but all he does is stare at you bitting his lip, and then he shrugs with a smile slowly creeping in. “I won’t interrupt you…” he says and you can tell he’s already made up his mind, he’s not leaving your spot. “Would you mind sharing your spot with me every now and then?” And you eye him with one eye open, head resting on the palms of your hands, you sigh closing your eyes and extending one hand towards him. “Y/N” “James”

☆｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ ☆ ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Turn your music down” James, or well, Bucky as you’ve grown to call him over the months, now almost a year, tells you as he squints and spies on the specs of stardust in the dark sky through his telescope. You’re listening to some albums your creative writing teacher recommended for the upcoming months – your favorite elective so far, guaranteed – With a quick roll of your eyes you oblige, ticking the down button on his computer and returning to taking notes on your notebook as you lay on your tummy, using your free hand to push some of your now shorter hair away from your eyes as the breeze fluttered it around.

“Find any new constellations worth naming after your sister?” “Nope” Bucky chuckles, and reaches to grab a sandwich from the picnic basket you’ve brought for the day without glancing away from the telescope “Not yet… Pass me my B chart?”

You don’t take your eyes away from your book as you reach over to his backpack and pull out a thick roll of paper he’s tried to explain to you over and over but it always goes over your head, every single dot is a star that you can’t place whenever you look up, and you think it’s a superpower of his, how he finds exactly the constellation he’s looking for – In his eyes, your superpower is how you easily know every single song and band from the 70’s.

You continue like this for a little longer, and later when you start to yawn, Bucky is right there with you and you both pack up in complete sync as he finishes his sandwich and sends a text to his roommate, the two of you walking together down a few blocks. His slight stubble and thicker frames adorning his face, different than when you’d first met. “See you tomorrow?” “Can’t, have this event to attend to, extra credit” “Wow, look at you needing extra credit” “Shut up. Friday?” “Sure, your turn to make sandwiches”

And then you go your separate ways.

☆｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ ☆ ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Wait, the box with like... the- the triangle on top?” “Yes! yes! Ok, now now, do you see Cassiopeia?” he leans over you from behind, clapping excitedly. “Now you’re asking for too much” you lean back and sit away from the telescope in a fit of laughter that Bucky joins in. His now long hair is pushed back into a bun, away from his eyes, but a few strands adorn his face, and he’s changed his frames a second time this year, these ones you like way better, not so thick as the ones he used to have last year and not wonky like the ones he just switched out of.

He’s looking at you through them, appreciating how the new glasses are so clean and pristine he can see you perfectly through them and he enjoys the view.

His phone chirps on the blanket you’re both sat on, right next to the familiar picnic basket you’d bought all those years ago. It’s Steve, FaceTiming him. You greet him as well, he’s now your friend too, and you’re trying your best to see if you come up on the video despite it being so dark out. “Oh, you’re in your spot” he says it, almost mockingly, given he’s always found it kinda funny how you’ve both grown to call this your spot. This patch of grass at the park was yours and Bucky’s to keep. “Whatcha need punk?” Bucky doesn’t want him to keep mentioning their spot like that, specially because Steve always does it in this tone that sounds like he’s saying I told you so, you’re blind if you can’t see you’re head over heels for her.

Bucky doesn’t want to talk about that or bring anything that could indicate to that, certainly not in front of you. “Think you took my car keys, idiot, I’m stranded at the apartment.” Bucky curses under his breath. “They’re at your place” he says looking to you and you shrug, it’s no big deal, you can swing by and get them on your way back, after all, Bucky was done stargazing for the night and you were done Bucky-gazing as well.

☆｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ ☆ ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ☆

“You nervous?” It’s a chilly spring night when you lay on your back on the red and white checkered blanket, looking at the stars, with Bucky next to you laying in the opposite direction. This time around there’s no telescopes, no mess of notebooks strewn around you, and Bucky just tosses a ball up into the air and back into his hands, over and over as you just take in the night. You can’t remember the last time your spot was used for just relaxing. Surely, it’s happened many times over the course of the years, but these past months were filled with nothing but stress, which is exactly where your question comes from.

“For my thesis presentation?” He asks, turning slightly to face you. You’re upside down in his eyes but still way too pretty through his contacts – a fact you’re not so happy about him no longer having the dark frames adorning his face, you’d grown quite used to it, but you’re glad he at least chose clear contacts, means his eyes are the same vibrant blue, and he’s kept the beard despite going back to a shorter haircut, which is altogether a nice new look – You nod. “Almost crapping my pants” a nervous chuckle leaving his plump lips, and you laugh wholeheartedly. “You’ve got this in the bag. Been at it since you were a freshmen, if someone knows how the stars dance over new york city on a yearly basis, it’s you” “And you too” “Well I’m flattered you think this silly ol’ psych major has been understanding a single word you’ve said about time and space” this causes him to laugh out loud now, a little more at ease.

The breeze hits your face and you close your eyes, letting it consume you and relax your bones. Bucky can only stare from the corner of his eye. He’s thankful for whatever combination of events lead the both of you here and now, and there’s a smile he can’t contain, suddenly drawing itself on his features.

“That lab internship write back?” You continue with your eyes closed. You hear it in his sigh the answer is no, and your hand blindly but gently reaches over to scratch at his scalp in a soothing way, however you can. He likes it when you do that, really calms him down. “They’re missing out.” There’s a tenderness in your voice as you turn to look at him. You mean it, whoever is not giving him their time of day must be insane. He’s worth his weight in gold and more. “The idiots that refused your proposal last week are missing out too, big time” his hand reaches over to push a strand of hair back from your face and your smile is warm and so is your face and every place his fingers graze, getting a dorky smile out of you. You catch a small glimpse of the star pendant on his bracelet, you’d gifted it to him long ago and he’s had it close ever since.

There’s a silence that envelops the two of you, a kind you’ve experienced before during all those years. Whenever he was deep in thought analyzing bright specs in the sky behind the clouds, or whenever you were reading too intensely into some case study, there was always silence. The kind that screamed how well you two could coexist and be perfectly content with each other.

“Look” you say, and point away from him, up and to the left. “Ursa minor”

Bucky looks and immediately bursts into surprised laughter. “Oh my god! It took me four years but you finally can find Ursa Minor on your own without a telescope!” He’s short of clapping amusedly. You push at him almost making him roll away down the hill some and calling him a jerk as his laughter calms down and he repositions his body to a sitting position. It doesn’t take you long to join him, the both of you facing the rest of the park over your hill

Looking at the time you know it’s late, usually the two of you are packed up by the time midnight rolls around, but just for tonight you’d rather stay and enjoy the company under the bright light of the stars. Bucky points somewhere in the distance, probably another constellation you can’t name, except, because he’s a great teacher – you’ll remind him later that he should look into that teaching position Professor Ruffalo had suggested – you can now recognize some shapes and this is definitely not a constellation he’s told you about before.

He traces the outs of it, just five stars that almost make the shape of a heart if you squint hard enough. “Discovered a new constellation” “Did you now?” You glance at him, taking in his features and how he slowly looks back at you, time seeming like it’s stopped, even though Bucky knows that’s impossible. The pull you have on him is comparable to that of a black hole, except you’re so bright it burns, and it’s continued to burn through the years ever since that day his old telescope almost broke because he was too busy trying to stop you from tripping down the hill, not that it was insanely dangerous, it’s just you were – are – insanely important, and he realized you were it for him. With all the star and space puns you’d googled just for him, and with your crazy theories about people’s minds and your unwavering dedication to everything you did. “… yeah…” came out of him barely above a whisper. He’s been jokingly discovering constellations with you since his sophomore year, and you found it even more charming every time. Lost in his eyes, you’re only slightly aware that you’ve cupped his face in your hand and now the tip of his nose has met the tip of your nose and it’s a nano second before his lips have met yours and you’re melting into him, allowing him to take your breath away, and being hypnotized by his always minty breath.

It takes a lot in him to stop kissing you, but he has to pull back to breathe and make sure it’s all real and not just another dream. He can barely separate from you though, just enough that he can breathe and mutter some words to you, but you’re there, so so close, just how he wants to keep you. He’s tired of looking at stars that are damn far away, so it’s nice to see one so up close. “Would it be too corny if I said I named that new constellation after you” he murmurs, just above a whisper, and you giggle, pressing your forehead to his. “yeah.” And you shrug as if saying you don’t care. “kinda cute tho” “you like cute” it’s more of an affirmation, he knows you too well by now. The two of you basically eskimo kiss through the short hushed conversation. “i love cute” “noted” He’s smiling, breathlessly as he closes the distance and kisses you again and again and again. It makes the spot – your spot – unforgettable, and even more so when a year and a half down the road he’s on one knee right there, promising you the stars as you assure him he’s already given you the whole sky.

☆｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ ☆ ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ･:*:･ﾟ☆

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!! I REALLY LIKED THIS ONE HOPE YOU DO TOO. I feel like this could have been a fic, like all the days i skipped? wow. Or their life after they marry? cuteeeee

#IBW: Hello Spring 2019 #ibwhellospringday5 #starry night #bucky barnes x reader #fluff #AU #college AU #college!Bucky #bucky x reader #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic

122 notes · View notes

pinksvnt · 5 years

Text

pairing: reader x minghao

genre: fluff

word count: 1,468

sypnosis: meeting minghao in the past leading to the start of a new life.

theres a marrige proposal here and y/n is an artist lmao. Honestly not my fave but all work is good bc I still managed to write something I dont totally cringe at sorry I dont title my work orz

You remember the day you met Minghao. You came to Seoul for an exchange program from your university and as your senior year thesis you held an art show. Work in all different sorts if media all revolving one central theme. Your self discovery. Who were you as a person, the good and bad.

Your thesis was held in a small studio place and the general public was encouraged to take a look. You remember what it was like hanging up posters and trying to get people to take one for themselves. You had never done anything like that but sometimes you meet people who were interesting and you'd sketch them up real quick if they promised to show up.

Minghao was one of those people. It was nearing sundown and you were ready to head back to your dorm but had an unexplainable urge to get one more person to promise to visit your show. That's when you saw two men walking with other, one with a camera and that's when you knew you could definitely get them to come. Shyly walking up to them you interrupted their little photoshoot were having between themselves.

"Sorry to bother you two but I was wondering if I could just, sketch a portrait for you two real quick in exchange for a favor" The taller men of the two immediately started smiling at you.

"What's the favor and where should we sit for the portrait!" You had them sit down on a bench nearby and quickly went about sketching their image.

"You see, I have an art show coming up, and the more people that go, the better I look! So I was wondering if you or just one of you really could show up and just take a look at my work?" You spoke to them without really looking them in the eyes as you were busy trying to capture their image.

"What kind of art do you do?" Finally the other of the two finally spoke. He had a weirdly mysterious vibe from the get go especially since he didn't speak to you from the start. He had on a simple yet stylish track suit on and dark hair that really contrasted against his fair skin. He seemed really intrigued in knowing what it was you'd answer.

"All kinds of work really, I work in tons of different media but I love focusing on myself and emotions. Emotions are such an interesting thing to try and visualize but I like the challenge. I'm almost done here so it won't be much longer and then you two can leave!"

The two turned towards each other and gave a sort of approving look to one another over your answer which made you smile. Although they didn't look it at first that fact that one of them asked about your work shows they at least have a good appreciation for art. You ended up signing their portrait and handing it to them along with a clean piece of paper. That was just to keep the graphite from smudging.

"Now that that's done, I hope I can see you two again at my art show! I'll give you this flyer and I'll even write down my personal number for if you two get lost or something. I'll appreciate it if you two just swing by, so please think about it!" You put away your pencil and sketchbook and gave them a smile.

"Yeah yeah. We might just go, I don't think we have anything scheduled that day!" The taller boy smiled at you "Oh! By the way, my name is Mingyu"

"And my name in Minghao"

"Nice to meet you two! I had fun drawing you two, my name is y/n. Hope to see you two soon, stay safe"

Now initially you didn't think much of those two. They were just another pair of really attractive people you met today. Though you really wanted them to show up for some reason.

Fast forward to the day if your show, you're exhausted and caffeinated beyond space. The anxiety you were feeling was probably a good reason as to why you shouldn't have drank so much coffee. But here you were, an anxious jittery mess. You had to pull yourself together as much as possible so that you could great visitors when they come in. If people would even show up.

Looking up at a portrait of yourself looking confident and somewhat menacing you sighed.

"Alright y/n, you've had plenty of art shows before. Even though this is your senior thesis, you'll do just as good as your previous shows. Nothing to fear"

The moment you unlock the studios doors you're met with so much uneasy you feel weak in the knees and on the verge of passing out. Why were you so nervous? You're so occupied in your mind with worries that you don't even notice when people start trickling in. You had to get it together.

"Are you alright?" You look up to see Minghao, a pleasant surprise in all honesty.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, I'm fine just a little stressed. I'm glad to see you came though!" He smiled softly at you and for some reason you felt a bit at ease. "I can give you a sort of tour of my pieces if you'd like?"

"I'd love that" He continued smiling at you and you couldn't understand but the more he looked at you that way, the better you felt better about the entire situation.

You walked with him showing him your work and explaining the meanings and feelings. It brought you so much joy because he wasn't viewing your work to critique it as your professors would be soon. He looked at each piece intently and said 'this is my favorite' to every piece you showed him.

"Your work is amazing y/n" Minghao scanned every inch of the studio and sighed to himself. It didn't sound bored. It didn't even sound as if itd lead to an awkward silence. "Can we talk more? Not here but like, a date or something?"

That initially caught you off guard. At the moment you were just happy how intrigued he was about your work. Most people (men) would dismiss your work or make you feel less than about it. And just as suddenly as he asked you responded in a way that even surprised you.

"Yeah, that'd be great. I'd love to" You smiled at him and that was that.

That was about two years ago now. Minghao became one of the most important people to enter your life. Being an artist himself he would always confide in you when showing you his work. You would show him yours and you had nothing but support for each other.

It was just another day in your small little studio when Minghao visited during his time out to the convenience store. This wasn't an out of character for him to do. He'd do this quite often and you loved the times where he would find a way to see you during the day during his busy days. What you did find odd though was the fact that he barged in painting, a bit sweaty, and looking disheveled.

"Mingha-"

"Y/n... it's felt like an eternity since I met you. The person you are is more beautiful than any piece of art I've seen in my life"

You were speechless, Minghao often told you he loved you but this felt different and so sudden. What's worse is that you're a mess, messy hair, paint covered smock and dirty paint covered hands.

"Hao I-"

"Please let me finish. I love you y/n, I want to paint the world with you. Will you marry me?"

Complete and utter shock. You felt weak in the knees and the world felt as if it was spinning. Even though you know the answer you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. You looked at him and he seemed anxious, looking at you so longingly that that brought you back to your senses.

"Minghao I-" You felt the tears starting to fill your eyes as Minghao took a box from his pocket and presented you with a ring. It was stunning. Nothing flashy, it was simple and more than enough. "Of course I will!"

Minghao pulled you into a tight embrace, laughing and if you swore you could feel a few tears from him too. But those could've been yours. Finally he pulled away and placed the ring on your finger. Minghao made everything in your life better. The idea that not too far into the future you would be able to call him your husband, flooded you with happiness. With Minghao in your life. Everything will fall into place.

53 notes · View notes

waywardandwestward · 5 years

Text

One Body (Chapter 1)

A Colin Ritman x OFC fanfic

"What you say or do doesn't matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you that would be the real betrayal." ~ George Orwell, 1984.

Warning(s): Nothing much, just minor swearing. Was not beta read.

A/N: Hello friends! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything that I’ve written, mostly because of school and work, but I’m happy to say that my Thesis is done and I can focus on writing things for my own enjoyment again! I’m not sure how much more of this fic I’m going to write, especially because my focus is on finishing Let Me Be Your Shelter, but this concept has been in my head for days now and I needed to get it on paper so I could focus on other things. Depending on the response, I might write more!

It should also be noted that this takes place before the events of Bandersnatch. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Colin Ritman strolls lazily into the large office building with his hands in his pockets and an unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth. His ears are covered by the headphones connected to his Walkman, which is currently playing nothing. He prefers to observe his surroundings without being intruded on by random people in the street or those chatting in the lobby.

When he lights his cigarette inside the elevator he gets a few looks from the men in suits next to him, to which he ignores by staring down at the pale Chucks he’s wearing on his feet. The elevator takes him up to his floor, and as he enters his work space, he’s a bit surprised to see the place completely empty.

Colin Ritman never cared very much about whether or not he was late for work. Given all the money he’s made for the company in the last year, his boss didn’t really seem to care much either. But, it did strike him as odd that he managed to arrive so early. In the last three years he’s been working for the company not once had arrived before anyone else. He shakes off the confusion rather quickly with another drag of cigarette and makes his way to his desk. He relaxes into his spin-style chair while he waits for his computer to boot up.

Just as his computer fully turns on, he finds himself falling into daze. Right as his eyes drift drift closed, he’s brought back to attention by the feeling of a tap on his left shoulder and the sound of a tiny cough.

“Excuse me?” The shy voice behind him says.

Colin spins the chair around to see a woman smiling courteously down at him. She stands hands together, playing with her mint painted fingernails until she feels the need to brush a strand of her curly brown hair out of her line of sight, and adjust her brown satchel hanging over her left shoulder. He pulls off his headphones and smashes his cigarette into the ash tray next to his computer. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Thakur. I know I’m a little early, but I just wanted to make sure this was the right place….”

American, he notes as she continues on. Her face is round with soft features and the greenest eyes Colin had ever seen. She’s wearing a large lavender colored sweater with a white, collared blouse underneath. The sweater lays over a floral skirt, and she stands in a pair of brown oxfords with white socks that end at her calves. Her body is jittering. Drinks too much coffee, he observes. Moderately desperate, he assumes. “If you could just point me in the right direction, I’d really appreciate it.”

Too polite, he thinks.

“You don’t want to work here.”

She’s taken aback by his bluntness. “I don’t?”

“No, go home. He’s attempts to turn back to his desk, but she stops him.

“Hold on a second,” he raises an eyebrow up at her and than glances at the hand firmly placed on the back of his chair. “Sorry.” she lets go, but she keeps eye contact with him to make sure that he doesn’t turn around again. “This is one of the best game development companies in England-

“The world actually-” he corrects.

“Why wouldn’t I want to work here? You work here.”

“Yeah, well, never said I liked it,” Colin shrugs. “And, I’m not his type am I?”

“Excuse me?” Her forehead creases when she asks. He finally manages to turn his chair back fully to his computer this time. The young woman takes a second to compose herself, standing up taller and stiffening her back. “Look, I’ve dealt with plenty of jerks trying to get up my skirt before. I shouldn’t have to deal with it, but I do. Besides, who are you to say I don’t want this job?” Her hands have dropped to her side and Colin can’t help but notice that her voice has lowered an octave. The sudden change in demeanor almost made Colin turn around again. “You know? Don’t answer that, it’s irrelevant anyway. The fact is I need this job. I need it in order to graduate, so if you could please direct me to Mr. Typical-Boss-Man’s office, it would be greatly appreciated!” she ends her statement a little too sharply for Colin’s liking, but he does begin to feel that this stranger warrants his attention.

Colin sighs and thinks about apologizing for a moment, but figures after her meeting with Thakur, he’ll never see her again. Whatever job she’s going after, he knows his boss won’t give it to her. Even if she is his type. “It’s that room there,” he points to the open room exposed by glass windows. “There’s a couple of chairs if you want to...” he points out.

She nods and sits down across the room by Thakur’s door. Colin moves back to his work just as a few of his co-workers begin to arrive and set up at their own stations. He can still see her though, waiting for Thakur. She’s twiddling her fingers and the strap on her satchel, evolving back into the seemingly shy woman he’d seen the moment she’d tapped his shoulder. He does his best ignore her, but his eyes can’t help but drift away from his work.

“Well, shit,” he says to himself. Stupid Conscience. He walks over to her.

The young man hovers over her and she realizes how tall and almost intimidating the man is. Almost. His bleached hair and pin-striped jeans gave the sense that he cared somewhat about his appearance, or at least his aesthetic, and yet the way his body slouched over and the way his glasses slipped down the ridge of his nose made her wonder if he cared about anything at all. “For the record, I wasn’t trying to be controlling, or tell you what do. I was just trying to warn you.”

“Is that an apology?” she asks. He’s surprised she didn’t come off more offended. Instead she just seems curious.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “I’m not really the “I’m sorry’ type. Sorry means regret, and I don’t particularly believe in regret. I just wanted to clarify.”

“Clarification noted, although I don’t know if I agree that apologies are the same thing as regrets,” she says. “And I appreciate the warning. I just don’t love it when people tell me what I want, especially when their complete strangers.”

“That wasn’t the intention. Then again, maybe I’m just a arse, and it was, I don’t know. In any case,” he breathes in, “Fresh start,” He sticks one hand in his pocket reaches out the other one. “I’m Colin.”

“Colin Ritman?” she asks taking his hand. He nods with a pierced lip. “I had a feeling. Your reputation precedes you.” There’s a small smirk creeping up the side of her mouth.

“I wasn’t aware I had a reputation, outside of the list of games I created.”

“An artist is reflected in his work,” she replies. “That and I have a friend who used to work here. He talked about you all the time.”

He hums and then says, “Good things?”

“Weird things.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“No, it’s not.”

Colin tilts his head at the response, both curious and amused by the playful look she has in her eye.

“Colin!” Mohan Thakur’s large voice booms through the office. He strides up to the pair. “How are you, mate?” Colin replies with another quick pierce of the lips. and a slow head nod His eyes stray toward his new friend giving her a wink that this was the man that she’d been waiting to see. “Who’s your friend, here?” She immediately understood what Colin had been insinuating about his boss earlier. Mr. Thakur’s eyes linger just a little too long over her body as he speaks.

“This is…” Colin freezes when he realizes he never caught her name.

“Lilith,” she replies to both of them. “Lilith Carlina.”

“Lilith, this is Mohan Thakur,” Colin says.

“Well, what brings you by...” his eyes are still lower than they should be, but the young woman shrugs it off, “...Lilith?”

She’s not sure if she should squint her eyes in confusion or roll them at his obvious crude behavior. In order to come off professional she chooses the former. “I had an interview set up for this morning. About the internship.”

“The internship?” It’s Colin who chooses to roll his eyes at his boss. “Right! See, this is why we need an intern. So I have someone else to remember my meetings for me.” Lilith attempts to laugh along politely while Colin slowly backs himself away from the conversation, giving the young woman a small wave as he does so. She does the same for him.

“Why don’t you step through my office here, and we can have a chat,” the older man says opening the door. Lilith can feel his eyes watching her as she steps through the door frame. She’s grateful that this room is completely transparent.

The room takes up practically a third of the office space and seems to double as the team meeting areal, for at one side of the room there is a large table, while at the other side there is a desk and a couch. “Go ahead and take a seat in front of the desk, yeah?”

She does as he suggests, crossing her legs as she makes it into the chair. Thakur takes his seat behind the desk. “So, where are you from, Lilith?”

“Kansas,” she replies.

“Oh,” Thakur draws out. “Well, you don’t sound it.”

What is a person from Kansas supposed to sound like? She thinks to say, but doesn’t. Again, she tries to keep herself composed. “My mom’s from New York and my dad’s from Michigan so…”There’s an awkward pause for a moment before Lilith decides to take control of the interview. “Look, about the job-”

“Yes, the job,” he pulls a pen out of a holder on his desk. “What makes someone like you interested in game design?”

Oh, here we go with the “someone like you” bull shit. she straightens up and makes sure that her hands which are now tightened into tense fists are hidden out of Mr. Thakur’s view..”My major is in computer studies, and about halfway through my sophomore year my roommate and I got a bit obsessed with Pitfall! and that’s when I realized game design was my calling.”

“Interesting,” he said. “What made you want to study in England?”

“Actually, I went NYU for most of my academic career. But I thought for my last semester I’d go exploring. I’m a part of a study abroad program.”

“Really?!” his false enthusiasm was beginning to grate on Lilith’s nerves.

“That’s why I’m here. One of my requirements is that I need to intern at a company that falls under the same focus as my career path.”

“I see,” the man sighs. “Well, unfortunately there’s not much I can do for you.”

Lilith’s pupils flared, “What? But I thought you said-”

“Our budget’s capped I’m afraid.”

“It’s a non-paid internship.”

“All the spots are full.”

“But you said-”

“Look,” he stops playing with his pen folds his hands and leans into the center of the desk. “You seem like a very nice woman. But, the spots are full. And if I’m being honest, I’m a bit worried you might be a distraction.”

“A distraction for who?!” she snaps. His words make her blood boil, but she sucks in a deep breath and quiets her voice. “You haven’t even looked at my resume.” She grabs her satchel and pulls out the sheet with her listed qualifications. “Just give it a skim, please.”

Thakur receives the paper in hand and takes a minute to reads it over. “This is good,” his eyes still on the paper. “Really good.”

“I know,” she says with confidence. “Please, reconsider.”

His eyes peer over top of the resume, drifting back and forth between it and her. He chews his bottom lip in thought before saying, “There is one part time position open. It’s not an internship, but I’ll still give you the hours you need order to finish school.”

“I’ll take it!” she says quickly with a tiny glimmer of hope growing in her eyes.

His face cringes, “You’ll probably want to hear what it is first.”

“What is it?”

“We have one job left open in the budget. It’s an assistant’s job.”

“An assistant? For you?” she says, praying it’s not so.

“I wish, but no, I’m all sorted,” he replies. This is the same man who forgot we had a meeting this morning, isn’t it? Lilith questions to herself. “It’s for one of our senior developers.”

“Oh!” her voice peaks. “That sounds perfect. I can get the hours I need for school, get paid, and gain actual experience from someone in the field I want to work in.”

“Yeah, but this guy doesn’t really like having assistance. Claims he’s a ‘lone wolf’.”

Lilith’s eyes close and she nods in understanding. “Colin Ritman.”

“Yes,” Thakur says. “It seems his reputation precedes him.”Lilith laughs to herself hearing her own words spoken back to her.

“So, are you in, or out?” Thakur asks. “It’s your choice.”

#colin ritman #colin ritman x ofc #colin ritman x reader #colin x lilith #bandersnatch #bandersnatch colin #will poulter #my fanfiction #bandersnatch fanfic #my fanfic #black mirror #black mirror bandersnatch

80 notes · View notes

kinsbin · 5 years

Text

Rainy Day Relaxing

Title: Rainy Day Relaxing Ship: Makoto Naegi/Zach [Self Insert/Canon] Word Count: 3089 Summary: A rainy day at college brings Zach to Makoto’s dorm, where the two of them share a copious amount of cuddles, talks, and a lot of kisses. Sometimes the best moods are set in the worst weather

A/N: A commission for @softfuzzyships! Thank-you so much for commissioning me and I’m always happy to write you and makoto its SO CUTE AND GOOD.

College was less than an ideal place to experience depression.

The system, most would tell you, was a form of self-centered money mongering that provided incentive for education through the fear of student debt should you not be clever enough to truly earn a scholarship or full ride through your chosen class. Likewise, your majors would always seem to make or break your financial career. It was up to the student, those young adults, to take care of everything and anything for themselves in a world that posed the concept of open help but refused it without hours of appointments and the fees to pay it through. For independent people, who were neurotypical enough to handle all of this and still find time to go to the beach on the weekends in an effort to stay active, it was a lifestyle of constant stimulation and enjoyment. They thrived in their freedom and made sure to milk it for all that it was worth until the years of dorms and drinking were behind them and they settled into their cushioned, high paying job with the life and car they always wanted.

To those less than fortunate to receive the short end of the mental stability stick, well, college was certainly not what they had wanted it to be for themselves.

Zach took a deep breath as they stared out at the campus from under the very edge of the library building they had to use as shelter. The rain that patterned angrily down was unpleasant to say the least, but, the sound was beautiful either way. It echoed off of the concrete like a musical symphony, humming varieties of songs to their ears as they clutched their books between determined fingers and shrunk further into the hoodie they had on. It would be an unpleasant walk back to the dorm halfway across campus to say the least, and the pickings of overhanging building structures to use as in-between dry spots were few and far between. How annoying, they thought with a deep sigh, taking out their phone and idling through their contacts to see if they might escape having to go back alone.

Group chats with their required project-mates for some classes were empty, half-excuses made about having to do something important fading between lines in an unsurprising turn of events that made it hard for all of them to get said project done on time. A text from Nagito revealed that he had gone out with Hajime shopping and now the two were currently waiting out the worst of the storm uptown in a coffee shop, a frowny face accompanying the line of ‘we won’t be home for another few hours, sorry’.

A sigh echoed from their lips, the cold of the water beginning to soak into their bones. Zach scrolled through the list of contacts, squinting for a moment before finally finding the last of the names they had thought would be available to spend some time with them.

Makoto’s name was decorated with a few flower emojis, their bright petals causing the boy’s messages to pop out more than others. It helped Zach to differentiate the notes between each of their friends, at the very least, and they appreciate emojis for this reason and many others. Their fingers flew against the keys, the tapping of the touchpad echoing similarly to that of the rain cascading down the sides of the library building.

‘Hey, ur dorm is near the library right?’

Send.

Zach waited, eyes catching a glimpse of a couple walking past, sharing an umbrella and giggling. They shrunk back on the wall, averting their gaze as the paranoid thought of their discussion being about them threatened their inner monologue, but, was soon pushed away with a satisfying ‘ding’ to represent the arrival of a new message.

‘Yep! I’m there now, do u wanna come over?’

Zach smiled, their thumbs moving before their mind did.

‘Sure! I’m on my way.’

‘Awesome, see u soon! <3’

‘<3’

Makoto’s dorm building was the one most of the older college kids seemed to prefer, the area close enough to the library to provide ample book supplies for the thesis papers they were sure to need to write and the closeness to about five different coffee and campus store stops ensuring their never ending supply of coffee, red bull, and cheap ramen noodles. They had worked hard for that dorm location, most freshmen couldn’t fault them for that. The trip was a single small trek along the sides of the library towards the building and a quick run across an exposed parking lot to get into the safety of the dorm.

Zach trailed their way through the halls, locating the room they had known to be Makoto’s, and knocked once. Twice...Three times on the wooden frame. The familiar, arid voice of Makoto calling out for just a moment filled their stomach with butterflies, their face heating up even as they heard the latch unlock behind the door. When it swung open to reveal Makoto, comfortable in a pair of pajama pants and an all-too adorable shirt with a bear on it, Zach felt like their heart was going to jump out of their stomach. The way his hair had been mussed up, clearly from moments of laying on his bed and simply not brushing it that day, made them want to reach out and smooth it gently down. To brush it out of the other’s face and press a kiss to the forehead that was revealed to them.

“Zach, hey!” Makoto’s smile was easy on his lips as he side stepped to let the other in, “You’re really soaked, huh?”

“Yeah,” Zach laughed as they shrugged their backpack and jacket off with a deep sigh, “The rain came out of nowhere...Uh, sorry if I woke you up or anything. I didn’t mean to just-”

“What? Oh, no no-!” Makoto blushed and held up one hand, the other reaching back to rub at his neck with a sheepish grin, “I didn’t have classes today, so, I just didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas or anything.”

As if emphasizing his laziness, Makoto yawned and stretched, part of his shirt riding up as his arms lifted the material, showing the pale and soft skin of his stomach. Zach blushed at the sight, a smile forming on their lips as they chuckled and watched while Makoto fell backwards on his bed once they had both arrived in the room. Rolling over, the boy made room for their partner on the sheets, patting the area with a tired smile.

“Sit down with me.”

“What? No its fine I can-”

“Zach,” Makoto sat up a little, hand outstretched with a patient look on his face, “Come on, you need it. I can tell.”

He could always tell. It seemed to be an ability Makoto had, though for what reason Zach couldn’t answer. It hung like a third eye in the front of his brain, a constant warmth radiating like sun across his smiling face as he waiting patiently for the other to join hands with him. Zach did, eventually, fingers reaching out to touch at Makoto’s own with a slow hesitance. Makoto’s fingers were warmer compared to Zach’s, kept warm by the inside heater and blankets he had been piled under while they were out in the rain running in hopes of getting less wet than they already were. Wet...that was what Zach was worried about. They were wet and cold. They would ruin the other’s bed if they agreed.

But it was too late, Makoto had already dragged them into bed with him. Zach felt their side hit the mattress with a solid whump of pressure, the suddenness of the fall making them yelp in shock as they landed. Makoto’s laugh bubbled up against their side, a beacon of light in the white noise of stress. Zach re-adjusted themselves, smiling awkwardly back as a chuckle of their own hiccuped against their mouth. The feeling of the stress that had permeated their existence since college had started began to dissipate as Makoto moved them both around, adjusting so that their bodies pressed against one another, legs entwining atop the warm covers. Zach felt their hands move on their own, fingers running along Makoto’s waist, gripping it close. In return, Makoto’s hands went to their back, dragging his fingers down their clothed spine and causing a shiver to rake itself down their spine.

“You’re so stressed,” Makoto groaned at the other in his bed with a wry smile on his lips as he let his fingers trail against the other’s back, “Any more and you’ll just turn to stone with it all.”

“Hell yeah,” Zach mumbled as they pressed their face into Makoto’s warm collar, their eyes shutting as the feeling of their boyfriend caressing their body enhanced their muscles unwinding, “Life as a statue sounds better than finals at this point, so, just make sure I get turned in a great pose.”

Makoto laughed again, giving a gentle tug to Zach’s hair before burying his whole face in it.

The two sat like that for a while, bodies entwined against each other. There was no noise except the patterning of the rain on the windows just overhead, the sound almost romantic as it played in the backdrop of their shared time. Soft words were whispered, usually sweet nonsense to one another or thoughts they both had but couldn’t be bothered to allow serious conversation for. Jokes spoke offered chuffs of laughter. They paused to listen to the sound of others yelling from the outside as they ran through the rain. Zach felt life fade away around them, a cloud of comfort overwhelming their senses with feelings of warm. Feelings of safety as their fingers found the soft skin underneath Makoto’s shirt, touching it with teasing grip after grip.

Makoto wiggled underneath the touch. Zach could feel him draw a deep, unexpected breath. Their eyes opened up, looking down at the soft, exposed collar bone before them as a wicked idea formed carefully in the base of their mind. They tried their best to hide their grin as they sighed almost dramatically, fingers touching and pawing at the other’s sides before sliding up further and further. Each inch made Makoto squirm underneath them, the boy’s fingers clutching tighter and tighter at the other’s body with every movement. Zach couldn’t help the chuckle that broke their lips, Makoto whining as he too bit back a smile.

“Zaach,” Makoto whined from over them, “What the fu-hhh-ck do you think you’re doing?”

It was said teasingly, but interrupted when Zach’s lips found the other’s soft skin. They began kissing their way around the other’s neck, lips tracing the veins they could see and knew were there.

“Kissing you.” Was the simple answer, smile wry as Makoto’s breath indicated he had huffed about the words returned.

“You-You know what I mean.”

They did, but, they didn’t quite respond. Instead they took their time to continue kissing Makoto’s exposed neck, biting in spots against the collar bone that they knew would make him squirm. He squirmed and more, gasping in shock and then letting out adorable little whines as Zach let their tongue run along the marks they had just made to sooth them. Their hands pulled Makoto close, their own breath picking up as their mouthing became more and more desperate, more and more needy.

Fingers came around to tug at the fabric of Zach’s shirt, moving it back and forth with a desperate attempt to convey something. Worry blossomed in the other’s heart as they pulled away, eyebrows knit together with worry. Makoto’s face was warm, reddened with shock and intensity. It was an adorable look on him, for sure, but less adorable when Zach wasn’t sure of the intentions of making them separate. Had they done something wrong? Was this the wrong time? The thoughts blossomed like worry across their face.

“Uh,” Zach tried to find their voice, “Did I do….something wrong or…?”

“No!” Makoto yelled a little too fast, biting his lip before shaking his head, “No...No it wasn’t that it’s more...I wanted to do this before we got too far.”

After saying this, Makoto reached out with a hand, touching Zach’s cheek. Zach leaned into the touch without thinking about it, breathing out with the comfort that the gentle graze provided. Makoto brought his hand forward and, with it, Zach’s face. Zach followed, curious but confused, until their lips met in a gentle lock. The kiss was soft, Makoto’s lips neither dry nor chapped as they moved against their own pair that felt almost inadequate in comparison. If it was an issue, though, Makoto showed no signs of it, for he poured himself into the kiss that was brought forward with the utmost affection. Eyes shut, he worked his lips with Zach’s until one of them, it was hard to remember who, found the courage to part their lips and allow the other’s tongue into it.

The makeout turned messy fast, drool pooling between lips and leaking out slightly as Zach adjusted themselves so that they hovered over Makoto, arms on either side of him. Parting left a gentle string of drool connecting their lips together, each of their faces flushed with a delightful redness that emphasized both their love and skin tones all at once.

“I just...wanted to kiss you properly first is all, you know?”

They averted their eyes together, the position almost too much as it spoke of something insinuated and initiated all at the same time.

“Do you…” Zach’s voice was soft, “Want to do anything more than kiss?”

Makoto laughed the nervous, gentle laugh he always did when he was unsure of something. Zach had a fond memory of the first time they had met one another in class, their study group asking questions to which Makoto answered almost easily, math coming to him in a way it didn’t to anyone else in the conglomerate. Despite the answer being right, though, Makoto had been unsure. The laugh he had echoed was soft as he rubbed the back of his head with a nervous unsureness that was fresh in his movements. It was the same laugh as this one. Zach could only hallmark it into the files of the many reasons they loved the man beneath them.

“Depends...on what ‘more than kiss’ is?” Were Makoto’s words, eyebrow raised with a curious challenge.

Zach laughed, leaning down to kiss him again, their lips gentle in their efforts to ease the mood they had both created. “Well,” Zach laughed, “I mean kissing is great too yeah? There’s a lot of spots to kiss? LIke your lips...And your cheeks…”

Their kisses trailed to either cheek, the pecks they placed on them making Makoto chuff out a laugh before they dared to allow their lips lower, lower, lower still….

“Your neck…”

A kiss to his neck.

“Your collar…”

A kiss to the collar bone, each one being peppered and then teasingly bitten with teeth grazing a little to low to be considered kind. Makoto’s body shuddered as Zach felt his hands clutch on their arms, tight in the hopes that it might relieve some of the tension building up between their bodies.

“Your shoulders...and your chest.”

A kiss on the left. A kiss on the right. Lips like fire trailed down to his chest, where Zach found the courage to tug down the already low-rested collar of Makoto’s shirt and press a kiss into the center of his pectoral muscles, tongue flicking out to lick at the skin and causing Makoto to gasp. Fingers found the bed, curling as he bit back a laugh but failed, spluttering out a chortle that made one build up in Zach’s stomach as well.

“I was trying to be hot!” Zach argued as they removed their lips from the other, a grin managing to meander its way across their face. Makoto was wheezing now, face redder still with the laughing and the ticklish area Zach had inadvertently found.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Makoto apologized, “I wasn’t ready for that!”

Zach collapsed now onto him, their bodies colliding into a pile of warm, bubbly laughter thAt matched the growing pattern of the rain on the shared rooftop above them. Thunder growled somewhere far in the distance of their room, but, it wasn’t able to be heard over their joy. Zach rested their head on top of Makoto’s chest, listening to his heart beat and trying to time their breathing so that it occurred simultaneously.

Makoto’s hand found its way to Zach’s hair in return, fingers braiding through the strands that it could reach, rubbing circles with the pads of his fingers on the other’s scalp. The massage relieved a pressure that Zach didn’t even know was there, eyes fluttering shut as they relished in the gentle movements of their partner. They took a large breath of air, releasing it with a gentle sigh as they hugged Makoto close again.

“Still want to try ‘more than just kissing’?” Zach wondered curiously, the brief worry that they had, somehow, ruined the moment that wasn’t even quite there to begin with. Makoto smiled down, closing his eyes with a hum.

“Yeah, but, in a bit,” Was the response, warm and patient,”I just...kind of like being like this with you, you know? Calm and...relaxed and stuff...It’s hard enough to get up on rainy days...I like to make sure we’re both okay first.”

“You don’t have to make sure I’m okay…” the mumble echoed from Zach’s lips before they could stop it.

“Of course I do,” Makoto rebutted without missing a beat, “I love you...after all…”

Zach looked up, Makoto’s eyes warm as the both of them stared on at one another. Blushes heated their faces for a third time that night, but, this time they smiled at each other. Leaning forward, they shared one more kiss before wrapping themselves up in the warmth of one another’s body.

College was stressful, that was certain...but...At the very least, they had rainy days with one another to make up for it.

#self shipping #self insert #self ship #writing commissions #dangan ronpa self insert #drsi #makoto naegi/oc #kinley writes

6 notes · View notes

nikkxb · 6 years

Text

A Chance Encounter

Inuyasha Pairing: SessKag Rating: Teen Prompt: Single Parent AU for @auyeahaugust Author’s Note:

AU notes and info at the end!

The coffee shop was a little busier than normal. People bustling in and out with more frequency, all but a small spattering of tables used, and a constant stream of orders being called at the counter. Kagome was grateful to have found her table right next to a conveniently placed outlet, a must-have for her older-than-dirt-yet-incredibly-trustworthy laptop. The thing weighed the same as a medium-sized dog and overheated at at the first sign of struggle, but it was the only way she ever got her papers finished.

Which, if she were honest, probably had to do with its inability to run more than two programs at a time — three if they were small — so she wasn’t afforded the pleasure of wasting exorbitant amounts of time browsing the internet.

Looking down at her notes, the books scattered over the table, and the blank Word document on her screen, Kagome wondered what ever possessed her to think grad school would be a good idea.

Taking a sip from her tea, iced and infused with peach with just the right amount of lemon and utterly divine, she cracked her knuckles and pulled out her outline. Handwritten with notes from her advisor, it was the only way she was going to get through this paper and still be breathing at the end of it and she would do it, dammit. She had a meeting the next afternoon at 1:45 to discuss the progress of her research so far and if she had the outline typed and formatted, it would turn the entirety of her messy notes into something actually worth writing.

Something tugged at her sleeve and she jerked, turning in surprise to see the top of a little brown head standing next to her.

Oh, the girl was absolutely adorable. Big brown eyes and a little bow clipped in her hair to keep her bangs out of her eyes, Kagome bit her lip to keep from cooing out loud. Whoever she belonged to definitely had their hands full because she knew the moment the girl turned pleading eyes on her, she’d be a goner.

And it seemed she was doing that just now.

“Can I help you?” she asked kindly, opening her posture to welcome the small interruption.

The little girl didn’t say anything, simply tugged on her sleeve once more.

“Did you lose your parents?” Kagome spared a quick glance around the coffee shop. It didn’t seem like there was a mother looking for a child anywhere. “We should probably find your mama—”

“Rin.”

Kagome froze at the deep, baritone voice that spoke over her shoulder. Turning, she looked up — and up — until she found the source of such a present tone. Tall, so incredibly tall, with long silver hair that fell in a sheet down his back, the man was absolutely stunning. Beautiful. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a perfect nose set above the most kissable lips she’d seen in a long time.

“Rin, are you bothering this young woman?” the voice came again.

The little girl, still silent, shook her head and tugged on Kagome’s sleeve again.

The mystery man apparently knew what that meant because he cast his gaze around the shop before letting it settle on Kagome.

She was glad she was sitting because she was not prepared for the full weight of that stare.

“I apologize for the interruption, but would you mind if we sat with you?” There was something soft about his voice even while it remained unwavering.

And all at one, Kagome realized what he was asking. “No, I don’t mind at all!” In a frantic move, she grabbed her mess of books, papers, folders, and pens and shoved them all in a pile in front of her ancient laptop before offering them two of the remaining chairs. “Please, help yourself.”

The man pulled out a chair for the little girl — Rin — and helped her get settled before taking his own seat.

Kagome tried desperately to look anywhere but his beautiful face.

She failed. He was so pretty. Sleek and perfect and completely mesmerizing and all of it enhanced by the obvious care he held for the little girl. Her stomach quivered and her heart stuttered and she wondered just who the lucky woman was to have this man and how on earth Kagome could somehow become her.

Probably in another life, she’d have a chance.

Looking back at the contained mess in front of her, she focused on her current problem which held absolutely none of the draw the two guests at her table did. Surely she could push the paper off a few minutes? It would be rude to continue working while they were there, especially considering how much she would be rifling through papers. Her research was as organized as her closet and considering she couldn’t remember the last time she hung up clothes after pulling them out of the dryer, that was saying something.

Blowing out a sigh, Kagome resigned herself to the impromptu break. Leaning back in her chair, reaching for her tea, it would only make sense to—

“Are we keeping you from working?”

“Of course not!” She attempted a smile, but it died under the unconvinced expression on the man’s face. Oh man, did he do unconvinced well and she ceded immediately. “Okay, kinda, but it’s honestly okay.”

He raised one perfect, elegant eyebrow and Kagome folded like a cheap deck of cards at the slightest hint of a breeze.

“Honest. It’s okay. Yeah, I have work to do, but I’ve been looking for a distraction for the last fifteen minutes and at least this time, the distraction is actually tangible instead of me making excuses for my severe lack of motivation.”

His gaze flicked down to the pile of unimagined mess in front of her and she watched as his already closed expression close even further.

Of course. The most beautiful man in the world sits at her table with his daughter and the impression Kagome makes is that of a cluttered, unorganized mess.

Which she was, but he didn’t need to know that yet!

She dropped her head onto said stack of papers and groaned. “I’m so screwed.”

A giggle reached her ears first, pulling her gaze back up to see the smiling face of the little girl and Kagome found her worries washing away under the innocent gaze.

“Are you in school?” the little girl asked in a quiet, melodic voice that oozed cheer.

“I am.”

“I’m in school! Though we don’t do anything like that. Is it fun?”

She fought her wince, wondering what level of hell she was going to visit for lying to a child. “It is.”

Rin’s eyes narrowed on the work lying on the table. “It doesn’t look fun.”

Busted. “It’s…necessary,” Kagome conceded. “Some parts aren’t fun, but the end result is worth it.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to pick out more lies. “Papa says that about chores and they’re not worth it.”

“Rin,” came the steady voice that would star in Kagome’s new dreams.

The girl’s demeanor changed instantly, softening further. “Sorry, Papa.”

Kagome looked back and forth between father and daughter, still trying to piece them together. The girl must have taken after her mother — she didn’t look a thing like the man sitting at her table.

“Papa, can I go to the restroom?”

The man’s eyes looked down the coffee shop, finally alighting on the lone restroom just beyond Kagome’s shoulder.

“Do you want help?” he asked.

“No.”

“Knock first and make sure you can see me until you get in the door.”

The girl carefully slid out of her chair and Kagome turned to watch her. She was seriously cute, always looking back to make sure she could see her Papa. She knocked once, and then twice, then pulled open the door. As soon as it shut, Kagome turned back to the father still watching the bathroom door.

“She’s seriously adorable.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Kagome,” she offered suddenly, not able to keep her voice quiet. No way could she leave here without at least attempting to know more about this man.

His eyes flicked at hers almost too quick, but still packing quite a punch.

“Sesshoumaru.”

With a deep breath, she weighed her options. She really had nothing to lose and everything to gain and the stress of her project had her opening her mouth before she even figured out what she was going to say. “Do you guys come here often?”

He turned, those golden eyes pulling away from the door his daughter was behind to look directly at her. Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity, only to release when the faintest smile touched his lips. “Do you?” he asked, his tone leading.

“Often enough,” Kagome breathed. “It’s the perfect place to study.”

“Then yes,” he said, interest flashing in his eyes, “it seems we do.”

Right after this, a barista brings over Sesshoumaru’s order and Kagome finally notices that he has a prosthetic arm -- hence why he didn’t wait at the counter to grab the drinks and pastries himself.

They don’t swap numbers, but Kagome continues showing up at the coffee shop at the same time every day and Sesshoumaru finally returns three days later, Rin in tow. It becomes a weekly thing, meeting at the shop while Kagome is working and Sesshoumaru is taking Rin out for a treat and the continue doing so. Over the course of her semester, she gets to know about Rin and how her parents died in a car accident, how the same car accident cost Sesshoumaru his arm, how he decided to adopt the girl and become her guardian, and (slowly, with a little hesitation) Sesshoumaru’s journey of gaining his prosthetic. Kagome is meeting them about five-six years after the accident.

When Kagome’s semester is over and she can manage to take a break from working on her thesis, Sesshoumaru swoops in for the kill and shows up at their coffee date without Rin.

I’ll let your mind wander on where that goes from there. ;)

Let me know what you think!!

#inuyasha #sesskag #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi #auyeahaugust #au yeah august #my stuff #fanfiction #single parent au #finally getting closer to drabble length #a chance encounter

85 notes · View notes

7wanderingpaws · 6 years

Text

3. OCEAN'S DEPTH.

Genre: marine biologist AU

Pairing: Bambam x reader

Word count: 2.2K

0. Synopsis // 1. Whales // 2. Dolphins. // 3. Ocean's depth.

(( I apologise for the long wait, it was not planned at all. Uni is in full swing, I am in my final year so the thesis writing is giving me a little headache. I hope this part will still be somehow enjoyable! Please let me know your thoughts! ))

- - - OCEAN'S DEPTH - - -

You were tapping your foot against the warm pavement the next day in the docks. The weather was still shiny, pleasant and ever so welcoming.

You were supposed to have a good mood, considering all of these aspects.

You felt like a piece of a rotten tuna tin.

Exactly like rotten tuna tin, whatever it was supposed to mean.

"Where is he?!" you shouted angrily to your two colleagues who were looking bored and kept murmuring among each other, snickering quietly.

"Calm down," said Jaebeom and pressed the side button on his iPhone to check the time. He pushed it back into his back pocket of his jeans. "His late just 15 minutes."

Jackson laughed in disbelief. "Just 15 minutes."

You glued your strict stare at the cheerful man and he just shook his head, not bothering to talk to you more.

"Well, if he isn't coming in five more minutes, we are leaving."

"But boss, even if we leave in five minutes we will still be there 30 minutes early," replied Jaebeom in a diplomatic tone.

Jackson snickered again.

You sighed, combing your hand through your already messy hair. "Are you making fun of me? Do you think this is funny?"

"No, not at all, " replied Jaebeom, coughing away his giggle.

"Look, " you started, holding your hand out." You can think whatever you want to, but the fact is that we should be there a little bit earlier to make sure everything goes smoothly. As you can see, this duck head is late anyway. This is why we have to be there a little bit earlier."

"A little bit, " mumbled Jackson to himself.

Jaebeom started to laugh loudly, not bothering to hold back anymore.

As much as you liked to see your forever cold and reserved colleagues laugh, you did not appreciate it one bit at the moment.

" Shut up, Jackson, " you snapped. " You don't let me breathe even for a little while right? You always have to push me down."

He looked at your hurt face and before he could argue in any possible way, from the distance you hear rushed steps and a very tired looking Bambam. He was trying to adjust his bag on his shoulder as his hair was a big mess.

"I'm here! I'm coming! Oh, thanks for waiting for me!" he breathed as he finally arrived.

"Good." You turned around and marched forward towards the kindergarten that you hated so much at the moment. Youngjae was going to pay a big price for letting his mouth talk so much.

If Jackson were a dog, he would have his ears pressed to the sides of his head, his tail between his legs and lowered head. There wasn't a minute when you wouldn't fight these days despite how hard and cold you both were to each other.

He still wouldn't tell you what was pissing him off so much about you and you certainly didn't want to ask about that kind of thing. This way you were aware you were annoying him and that was more than enough.

You all made your way to the kindergarten and to your pleasure, you were quickly ushered in, the kids already waiting.

"Soon is never soon enough, Dr Im," you muttered to Jaebeom. Before he could retort something too sophisticated for you, you turned quickly to your team, mostly focusing your attention to your two colleagues rather than Bambam who was smiling the whole time as he was observing the kids' drawings. "Alright, we literally have like five minutes to discuss whose gonna talk about what-"

"Y/N," you heard your name. Youngjae's mum was standing next to you, her frame tall and her facial features kind. "I'm afraid you will have to go in now. The kids are waiting and they are restless."

"Yes but-"

"Alright, then there is no time to waste!" shouted Bambam, suddenly paying attention and soon he was entering the little hall kids had there for their performances.

Jackson snickered as he followed Jaebeom and BamBam. "So much for authority, huh."

A tiny growl escaped your lips, startling you. Damn. Now the game was on. You would ruin Jackson for sure.

The kids greeted you politely, most of them curiously looking at the blonde haired Bam.

While Jaebeom looked uncomfortable and seemed like dying inside from the attention, Jacskon was also naturally swayed with the kids as he was smiling brightly, waving at them.

"Everyone, let me introduce you these marine biologists," started Youngjae's mother, her voice a pleasant baritone. "Dr Y/N is The leader of the marine research institute here in Mokpo and Dr Jackson and Dr Jaebeom are her colleagues, great experts. Dr Bambam is a world famous marine biologist from Thailand so make sure to treat him with respect."

"Are we considered trash next to him?" muttered Jackson as he had his bright smile plastered on his face.

You bumped your elbow into his ribs quite hardly which made him wince with surprise. He widened his eyes at you, but you had a stern look already focused on the wall opposite you.

"Now I will let our biologists take over the talking and please participate actively!"

Youngjae's mum nodded at you with a supportive smile and you made sure to thank kindly before reaching for the microphone. "Hello, everyone! I'm Y/N and I would like to start with a question for all of you. Please raise your hands if you want to talk, alright?" you asked with a thumb up but when you didn't get any feedback you laughed awkwardly. "Alright! So, what do you understand under marine biology or marine research?"

You had a weird feeling these questions were not exactly meant for such a young audience as these four-year-olds who barely knew their mother's name but you were serious about doing your job professionally.

One little boy in the front row raised his hand shyly. "I think you work with dolphins."

You swayed your head from side to side. "Yes, could be also."

"That's totally true!" exclaimed Bambam. "And you know what? Let me tell you something that I'm sure you didn't know about whales." The way he was talking made kids much more interested compared to the poker faces they were giving you.

"The whales are these veeery big animals, right?" asked Bambam, motioning with his hands. "We also call them mammals.They can be much bigger than this whole kindergarten! And the important thing to know about them is that their poop is needed for the ocean's ecosystem."

You snapped your head to Bambam, not liking the direction he was going. On the other side Jaebeom and Jackson were also listening as intently as the kids.

"So how exactly does this work, hm? Well, when the whales poop it's really big and can create a big mess." Kids started to laugh, supported by Bambam. "Their poop contains lots of important microscopic creatures that are beneficial for other fish! For instance, phytoplankton is a crucial part of the ocean's ecosystem and some underwater animals live off of it."

"Eeeeeeeeew," kids whined but laughed loudly, scrunching up their noses.

BamBam laughed too, extremely pleased with himself. Jackson and Jaebeom had a light grin, also liking the playful way Bam introduces whale's poop.

"Another thing we have to watch out for are coral reefs," started Jackson his part. The k god it was an appropriate topic. "Do you know what are coral reefs right?"

There was a lady sitting by with a laptop who screened pictures on the big wall so the kids could see. She typed quickly into Naver search engine the keywords and all of you were met with colourful fish and massive corals. It made you smile right away and Jackson went up to the picture and tried to simplify the information about the coral reefs.

“They are extremely endagered. You know Nemo, right? Well, he also lives in these coral reefs. However, Nemo cannot cope with warm water. That is what causes these reefs to die out - warmed up temperatures.”

All of you continued with your presentations, trying to engage children as much as possible and at the end having a nice little quiz (with a rewarding present too!).

Jaebeom was breaking jokes about sea horses that you tried not to cringe about but thanks to Bambam, he supported every idea. It almost seemed like he knew only the silly stuff and not the important information.

After you were finished, you stopped Bam on your way out, so that Jackson and Jaebeom wouldn't hear you.

"Can we go diving today?" you spilled.

If Bambam was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead a signature smile spread across his face. "Well of course , boss. But I made a reservation at this five star restaurant you have in this little town so I will go there first."

You sighed, trying not to show your frustration. "Look. You shouldn't eat before diving especially not with the depth of our diving. Secondly, I thought you came here to help, not try all these so call five star restaurants."

BamBam laughed, tapping your shoulder. "should I cancel because of you, Y/N?"

"Exactly my idea," you smiled, walking past him.

He was quick to grab your hand though. "How will you refund me this loss?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how important I hold my luxury living. Since I'm going to sacrifice it for you, I hope it will be rewarding at least." His hand trailed over your arm, teasing you.

By now you knew better than to take his ideas seriously. "Well, heated kissing under the water, how does that sound."

Bam laughed tapping you shoulder. "Good enough, girl, good enough."

You couldn’t believe your own words. Your own mouth. Your own tongue. heated kissing under the water?! There was a sudden urge for you to slap yourself as you were heading to the docks to meet Bambam. How on earth could be this cheesy?

You knew Bam was not serious half of the time and even though he did tell you some good things about the marine biology and how to lead this entire expedition, there was just something slightly off. Whenever someone had a really professional question, he would suddenly go quiet, dissing the question with a simple answer that didn’t really add to your knowledge.

When you entered the docks with all your equipment, you were surprised to find him already there. He seemed deep in thought, his uniform already on.

You paused for moment, thinking what to do.

Set your goals straight...

There was no doubt you needed this guy for you to find the creature. He had all the knowledge. Apparently...

“How was it when you found out people know you?” you walked towards him, a challenging smile on your burned face. “And why would you talk about whale poop anyway.”

Bambam smirked as he turned towards you, his full attention now on you. “How else do you want to get the kids attention if not with something silly.”

“Good for you it was a true fact what you said,” you replied, putting on your swimming gear.

“I only say things that are true,” he murmured, eyeing you up.

A blush creeped up into your cheeks as you zipped up the uniform on your back. You both checked whether the equipment you had was prepared for the dive. “I sure hope so.”

“So the kissing part,” he started.

You held out your hand quickly. “Stop right there. I didn’t mean any of that.”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” you said without thinking and immediately closed your mouth in pure shock. What did you just say?!

“You do?” he asked, his eyes full of hope.

You blinked a few times, hiding behind one of the oxygen bombs. “What? I mean I like the weather today.”

Bambam burst out into fit of laughters. “You are actually super cute, you know that? You play all this hardly approached girl but you are such a softie.”

“That is some good load of whale poop,” a doubtful laughter was the only thing you could let out. “Anyway, let’s go already. It’s gonna be super dark in a few.”

“Yes, that’s the point of night diving.”

As you walked passed him, you turned sharply, facing him. “Listen, Bambam. Whatever it is you are thinking, stop it. And just so you know, I have my eyes on you.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you, obviously not taking you seriously but you just sighed and headed towards the little stairs leading into the water. It wasn’t until you reached the edge and you slipped on it that you felt his hands around your waist. You yelped feeling him pulling you backwards. It made him slip almost as well but he managed to keep a strong stance making sure you are steady.

You stayed like that for a few more seconds before your heart beat could simmer down to a normal rate. Slowly turning around, you saw Bambam’s gentle face. His eyes were already on you when you met his gaze. His hand reached out and slowly pushed your messy hair out of your face before his index finger slipped under your chin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until his face was inching closer to yours.

Oh no.

What was he doing?!

18 notes · View notes

taetaesource · 6 years

Text

Out of the Ordinary

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

You won a lucky draw chance to meet BTS backstage and got to know Min Yoongi.

As BTS was growing bigger and bigger, Yoongi's burdens seemed to get heavier and heavier. BTS moved dorms, took on more endorsement contracts, upgraded their studios and Yoongi got a much bigger studio with the freedom to decorate or put whatever he wanted in there. He was getting more responsibilities at work. He would usually only be in charge of writing songs after songs and producing a few of them. Most of the work was done by the older and more experienced song producers and writers of the company. The rappers of BTS were only contributors to a small part, mainly coming up with beats or the hooks of the song, the bulk of the production came from the backend team. But after hyyh proved to be a huge success, the company allowed Namjoon and Yoongi to take charge of more production. WINGS was the album that Namjoon and Yoongi poured their hearts into. You knew the efforts that were taken to produce this album and the scepticism Yoongi had towards it. Yoongi was not as involved as Namjoon as he was working on his mixtape at that time, but he was definitely stressed out over the two projects.

The number of sleepless nights, long discussions and quarrels with Namjoon, wrestling back and forth between the different drafts, this album deserved to be a hit. When Yoongi was working hard to prove his worth through his mixtape and album, you were working hard on your final year thesis. You had countless of sleepless nights as well, flipping through pages after pages, academic journals after academic journals, researching and fitting everything into coherent chapters of essays. While Yoongi went back and forth between Namjoon and the senior producers, you were constantly going back and forth your professors' offices.

Dates with Yoongi was no longer a thing as both of you were just too busy and stressed out. Occasionally, you would text Yoongi in between breathing time such as when you were waiting for your food to be done at the takeaway, and he would sometimes call you in between his breathing time such as when he was waiting for his computer to finish saving and uploading the file that he was working on.

When WINGS was out, you were in the final week before your submission. The album was such a hit that everyone was talking about it. BTS was on the TV and radio everywhere, the streets were playing their songs and their advertisements were all over the bus stops, underground tunnels, subway and LED screens. Yoongi was busy with his promotions and he knew that you were busy too so he could not call or text you during the period. You were too busy and stressed out with perfecting your thesis that you hadn’t noticed his silence. The last time he texted you was to tell you that the album was out on itunes and spotify and you were on your way to your professor’s office so you left him on read receipt. The meeting with your professor turned out to be a stressful one as he pointed out the points that you would need to change in order for your paper to be more coherent. “You have 5 more days to go young lady, and I am not sure how you are going to get all these changes done. I can only say that you should have gotten more research done a month ago and not at this last minute. With a paper like this, you should be happy with a C grade.”

So even if WINGS topped the charts and BTS has been winning at all the music shows, you could not bring yourself to congratulate Yoongi. Heck, you could not even find the time and mood to watch and follow BTS news and updates. You literally had 5 days and a disappointed professor to deal with. You barely even had time to eat and sleep properly.

The day before your submission deadline, you were holed up in the library finishing up the final chapter of your paper. You still had to prove read the entire 12 chapters and polish up your acknowledgment and citations pages. You worked through the night and finally submitted your paper at 8am. It was not your best as you felt that you could have done better if you had even just one more day. So you turned your paper in with a less than satisfied heart and not as relieved as you thought you would be. Nonetheless, you were so tired and exhausted, all you wanted to do was to get in bed and sleep till the next day.

That evening, after you woke up from your long nap, Hee Ji suggested to go out for dinner in celebration of your thesis submission. Although you were still feeling the fatigue, you thought it was a nice idea to finally get out to see the world after weeks of hell. The both of you headed to the chicken store near your dorm.

The shop had a good business but it was not very crowded so you didn’t have to wait for long to get a table. After settling down and placing your order, you noticed Hee Ji singing along to the song that was playing in the shop. The song was very catchy and had a chorus that sounded like, “money money money money.” You started to nod to the rhythm of the music and when the chorus kept repeating, you said to Hee Ji, “this song is so funny, are they really singing about money??”

“Oh my god girl, it’s BTS telling you “i want you many many”???”

Your first reaction was to look around as if to check if you could see what you were hearing and indeed, the music was coming out from a TV screen at the side of the store. The TV was playing the music video and you could recognise that it was BTS. But the truth was cemented when you saw Yoongi in the music video. A weird feeling came up to you. You suddenly realised that you had no idea when exactly the album was released. You had no idea how does the song sound like, how does the album look like and how does your boyfriend look like in this comeback. You remembered reading the texts that Yoongi sent you but you have not listened to the album that he had put in so much effort into making. You felt guilty and you suddenly missed Yoongi alot. You picked your phone up, attempting to reply to his last text but figured that you should at least listen to the album first before talking to him about it.

That night, you ran the album on spotify and read up on the latest news of the comeback. You texted Yoongi and surprisingly got a quick reply from him.

Send: I just managed to listen to the full album and saw the MV while i was eating at the shop just now. I am so proud of you my love.

Message from Yoongi: you submitted your paper? Ya the album was well received thankfully. I’m going for a radio show in awhile. I’m so goddamn tired.

Send: All the best! Please eat well

Message from Yoongi: we are on 009FM if you want to hear my voice.

Send: why would i want to? I’m going to sleep. I literally just submitted my paper this morning with no sleep yesterday.

Message from Yoongi: Fine. Don’t listen to it.

Send: Promise you would say something funny on the show and I will listen to it.

Message from Yoongi: Forget it. Sleep.

Send: I am tuning in now. Remember to be funny, I’m listening.

Send: And I miss you.

Message from Yoongi: Idiot

You had your radio on as you prepared for bed. You had washed up, applied your night cream, turned off the main light and lying on your back on your bed with the warm bedside lamp on and the soft music playing from the radio station.

“It’s 11pm and you are listening to 009FM. How have your Monday been? Were you feeling the blues as you were getting to work or school this morning? As the day is coming to an end, I hope you would be encouraged that you made it through today and tomorrow is a brand new day again.”

“For our dear listeners tonight, are you waiting for our special guests to be on air tonight? Are you exciting to listen to them on this show?”

“Our guests are here with us tonight and they are BTS. Say hello to our listeners please.”

“Hello, we are BTS!”

“Wow so much energy from this bunch, it suddenly feels like our late night show has brightened up so much. Please introduce yourself and tell us how you are feeling now.”

“Hi I’m Rap Mon, nice to meet you tonight”

“Hi I’m Jin, I’m glad to be here on this show tonight”

“Hello I’m Jimin. Please enjoy the show tonight.”

“Hi I’m Jhope! Wah I see so many of our armys outside. Hello!”

“Hello I’m V. Please send us lots of love.”

“Hi I’m Jungkook. Nice to see all of you here.”

“Hi I’m Suga. Nice to meet all of you on this show tonight.”

“Wow I’m sure your fans are happy to meet all of you on this show as well. Congratulations on your new album! Please tell us more about your new comeback.”

Rap Mon: “Yes, this album is our third full length album with 7 solo songs from the members. We have put in alot of effort in this album, with our own compositions and performances. The concept is new as well, it’s about meeting and overcoming the temptations that youths face.”

“Ahhh are there any temptations that you face as well? Could each member tell us about your temptations? Let’s start with Jin?”

Jin: “oh yes... that would be food for me.”

“Oh yes, that is a temptation that is hard to resist. There’s just too much good food around isn’t it?”

Jimin: “computer games”

V and Jungkook: “me too, computer games.”

Rap Mon: “sleep”

Suga: “Yes, I am tempted to sleep now.”

*everyone burst out laughing*

Jhope: “armyyyyyyys”

“Hahaha and why would armys be your temptation?”

Jhope: “they seduce my heart.”

*everyone burst out laughing*

“Hahahaha pretty sure love is one big temptation that every youth encounters. Is love a big concept in your new album?”

Suga: “yes i would agree with you that love is a big temptation in youth and we have incorporated that into the album as well. If you listen to our title track “Blood Sweat Tears”, you would see lyrics that are along the lines of “getting drunk on love” and “wanting you many many”....

“And are these inspired by your experience of love?”

Suga: “oh is this a trick question? hahaha i would say love is a big temptation because all of us know that love is a nice feeling- from movies, from books, from songs etc. Many times, we draw inspirations from these sources and we imagine and translate them into our songs and music. Love comes in many forms as well, it can be love between friends, family, and we hope to put in and show different aspects instead of just love between lovers.”

“And what kind of love is the greatest temptation for you?”

Suga: “haha another trick question?”

Jhope: “love from armys”

Jimin: “yes, our army’s love is irresistible.”

Suga: “I guess it’s the love from someone who loves you unconditionally. When you love a person and the person loves you back even greater, even more than you expected, that’s when it becomes a temptation. A temptation to get closer, to give more and to love more.”

Jhope: “that’s why we are always giving back to our armys greater music, greater songs, greater performances.”

“Ahh that makes sense. To our armys listening to this show, are you feeling the love from BTS?”

“To let our fans know how much you love them, please say something to those who are listening to our show.”

Jimin: “thank you for loving us and supporting us, we will show you a better side of us with this new album and the performances to come.”

Suga: “To the you, listening to this show, and the you who loves me, thank you for your love. I love you too.”

“Our dear listeners, can you hear the love from BTS? May the love from this 7 lovely young men warm up your hearts tonight and give you the strength to live beautifully for the week. Goodnight.”

#bts scenarios #bts smut #BTS suga #bts yoongi #bts fluff #suga fluff #yoongi fluff #Out of the ordinary

31 notes · View notes

crystalnet · 6 years

Photo

State of the Art: JRPG Spotlight-

Issue #1- 2017 at a Glance- A quarterly or bi-annual journal on the JRPG at large, focusing on recent releases, trends, quarterly reviews/analyses and upcoming release hype.

The other night I was getting yet even deeper still into the freshly minted minor-masterpiece that is Xenoblade Chronicles 2 when it dawned on me just how good 2017 was to the quaint little genre known as the JRPG. I knew all year while it was happening that some special games were getting released with a certain regularity, but now that the dust has fully settled, we can look back and be conclusively impressed by such a stellar stretch.

3 or 4 years ago I think people were getting ready to pen their moratoriums on why big developers and JRPGs should soon plan on never intersecting again save for small-scale handheld releases, and now here we are and Japan is seemingly back on top as far as role-playing goes. That return-to-form didn't always seem so inevitable as it is now that it's fully underway, especially after a somewhat shaky stretch for the genre during the 7th generation. Indeed, high-definition graphics and devs who catered to Gatorade-guzzling gamer bros seemed to not be the boon to the genre that old-school role-players really needed, and even the first couple of years of the 8th generation saw the genre to still be on slightly shaky ground, without a ton of great titles to point to from those initial years.

But then throughout the 7th gen a little franchise called Dark Souls (a JRPG in spirit, though not quite in practice, in many ways) started to build a little following, generating new interest in things like difficulty, customization, and innovative diagetic story-telling. As of the middle of this decade though, the genre still doesn’t have all that much of a presence compared to the late 90s heyday of JRPGs. Cut to 2016 though and Square drops FFXV which is a solid, if not-perfect realization of the 30-year-old standard-bearer of the genre, (a herald of sorts, if you will) and BAM. 2017 begins and in quick succession Nier Automata, Persona 5 and Breath of the Wild drop, all to stunningly positive reception. Now BotW, like Dark Souls, is not as much of a JRPG as the other 3 releases I hope to focus on, but Zelda has always had it's toe in the same waters as Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest, borrowing and simplifying elements of role-playing games from an action-adventure perspective, and in turn, also influencing those very JRPG franchises it seemed to pay homage to.

This wasn't just a coincidental blip of releases though, proved largely by the fact that all the way at the end of the year, Xenoblade 2 would also drop, and show yet again how the JRPG can be fresh and vital, and can be a Nintendo-exclusive at that. Indeed, I hope to demonstrate my thesis that it was a particularly strong year by triangulating my discussion around Nier A, Persona 5 and Xenoblade 2. Not only are these three very strong titles, they are also all pretty vastly different styles of JRPGs, which I think displays the health and potential of the genre even better than the fact that they are so individually good. First of all we have an industry veteran and mad-hatter in Yoko Taro finally coalescing a fully-realized vision of action-JRPG greatness by collaborating with Platinum games to make something as heady, and intellectual as it is well-designed and fun to play. That game is something like a Hegelian Philosophy PhD driving a Lamborghini in terms of the amount of stuff going on with the writing and character development, all while sporting a super classy luxury sports-car, six-cylinder engine. For long-time fans of Taro, I don't think this direction could have ever been predicted, though they may have secretly dreamed of such a fusion of form and function.

The best thing about how simultaneously weird and playable Nier A is for me is the way it hearkens back to the golden age of PS2 JRPGs for me personally. Without pinning it to a single PS2-era title, it gives me the same feeling that games during that console could consistently deliver on: a fully realized fantasy/sci fi world, a deep-yet-approachable combat system, a weird and very-Japanese, but also deep-as-hell plot, and a certain functionality that games like Kingdom Hearts 2, Rogue Galaxy and Final Fantasy XII delivered on back then. I don't mean to say it's derivative or stuck in the past, it's just that, the highlights of the PS2 days are my go-to precedent for what a good modern, post-16-bit JRPG is, since that equally sweet ps1 era can only be reasonably emulated on smaller and/or handheld retro-style releases. And while the story’s depth and esoteric nature recall the plot’s and worlds of PS1 and 2 greats like FFX, Xenosaga or Vagrant Story, the combat itself feels as fast-and-furious as hack-n-slash classics from then like Devil May Cry.

So while Nier had action-(j)RPG style gameplay covered, Persona 5 was there for all the turn-based devotees, and oh boy were we there for it also. That game was a huge victory lap for Atlus, who has built up a deep fanbase over the past decade, largely because of youtubers (at least in the west we can thank the cult-y presence of its fans online for the slow-burn development of an army of Atlus acolytes, whereas P3 and 4 were only barely noticed in the States back when they actually first came out.) And they finally capitalized on that hard-earned interest by finally following up P4 after nearly a decade, and while they were at it, they also showed everyone that fully turn-based (not even slightly active-time) systems can still melt faces, please crowds and feel fresh, which is no mean feat at all in a world where some question if turn-based is officially dead save for retro-homages.

And while Nier captures a kind of ethereal PS2-esque quality, Persona very literally pulls some of the PS2-era goodness into the future by updating and refining the awesomely deep and OCD-enabling systems of the now holy-grail-level PS2 era Persona games. Yes, wandering around Shinjuku, going on supportive dates with classmates, building up your relationships in general, and working a part time job between study breaks has been fully realized for the modern gamer, and it is glorious to behold.

And that takes us to Xenoblade which out of all the titles I might be most surprised by. Being a bit of a Xeno-noob, I wasn't sure if the release was going to be a major or minor event for role-players, especially given Nintendo's spotty track-record with the JRPG, usually sporting all of maybe one or two truly notable ones per generation, as well as their tendency to censor and/or smother developers. But alas, Xenoblade is fully-formed, proper, brimming-with-life and as deserving of the title of new standard-bearer to the genre as any of the other fantastic JRPGs released that year, many of which I won't even get to.

As is the case with the others, it seems to draw on PS2 era greatness in someways, by building on battle systems like the ones in FFXI and FFXII, while also being an actual descendant of the Xenosaga series that rocked that console, and also still draws on PS3-era titles that were successful (though smaller in number there were some good ones!) like Ni No Kuni and the Last Story. This is a round-about way of saying the combat system is an excellent take on the free-moving active-time auto-battling-but-with-real-time-triggers-style combat that started to show up towards the end of the PS2's life-cycle just when people were realizing the days of pure turn-based role-laying may be limited. And it also delivers on all those other check-marked boxes that any truly great and special JRPG must deliver on including: emotionally stirring and unique soundtrack, a deep and rewardingly complex story with all sorts of specific and detailed lore, a really nice visual style, and some incredibly beautiful locales. Okay that last thing isn't even a thing JRPGs usually have to deliver on, but it sure is a highlight. Some of the locations you move through during your travels in this game are breathtaking, and even more impressive than the similarly psuedo-cell-shaded style of Breath of the Wild, whose open-world Monolith Soft also worked on (though you can't climb all over these areas I should say).

I'm as blown away by the suddenly addictive combat (once it fully kicks in and you are given full control over 3 blades around the 15 hour mark) as I am by the surprisingly moving, funny and immersive story. I can be a little skeptical sometimes when approaching JRPG stories, but by all three of these aforementioned titles, we were treated to surprisingly mature and complex narratives, with refreshingly grounded and/or thoughtful characters. Indeed, with this many games firing on all these different cylinders (I didn't even mention the soundtrack to Persona 5 or Nier OMG), you know something special is happening.

So there you have it, three wildly differently styles of JRPG, only unified by their consistent top-tier quality. An old-school turn-based lite-novel hyprid, a full real-time action-RPG for philosophy students, and a MMO-style combat fantasy epic. And on top of all that there's myriad other fantastic releases, or even re-releases like the Final Fantasy XII Zodiac Age remaster of FFXII, one of my favorites and oft-forgotten FF titles that I think got overlooked slightly upon initial release precisely because of the way it showed other developers the way forward from pure turn-based combat.

And then the behemoth that is Breath of the Wild saw a tried-and-true franchise get fully revitalized in a way that drew on the weapon system of Dark Souls as much as it did the food system of Odinsphere of all games. And like I said, though not a true JRPG, it shows that role-playing adjacent titles are also showing a come-back. Survival components in video games were always the more practical, realist cousin to role-playing/stat-grinding after all.

So where do we go from here? Well 2018 will show us whether 2017 was a stand-out year or just the beginning of a trend, but all signs seem to point to an ongoing upward trend if releases like Monster Hunter World are any indication. Ni No Kuni 2 is due out soon, Octopath Traveler, which should make good on the idea of a retro-JRPG, and Kingdom Hearts 3 at the end of the year all help to paint the picture of an equally formidable year. Alas, Nippon is poised to continue its domination in coming months. All in all, fans of the genre should be very pleased, and if you haven't checked out one of the aforementioned titles get to it, because all of them are excellent, even if Xeno takes about 15 hours to truly get rolling and Persona takes a whopping like 20. All good things come to those who wait, after all.~

#xenoblade chronicles 2 #xenoblade #nier automata #nier #persona 5 #persona #jrpg #state of the jrpg #role-playing #role playing #role #playing #ps4 #switch #turn-based #combat #real-time #state of the art

2 notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 7 years

Note

I know there have been times in the series where people were in love with the idea of Cas giving up his grace for Dean or dying for him or making some other big sacrifice. And I just really really hate that idea? It reminds me too much of the unhealthy brodependency cycle. I don't want to see Cas become human like that, forced to under duress or making his ultimate life goal be about "bleeding for the Winchesters." We're getting past that. So I'm glad S10 didn't do the grace cure for example.

Hi there… I feel like I should make at least one disclaimer here before I even start to reply to this…

Disclaimer #1: I am not now, nor have I ever been in love with the idea of Cas giving up his grace FOR Dean, or dying FOR Dean. You used the words “forced” and “under duress.” You even referenced his line from 7.22 about “bleeding for the Winchesters.” Out of context that does sound really bad, and I’ll get to why below, but I really don’t get any of these objections to Cas giving up his grace, because they seem to ignore Cas’s own free will to make that choice for himself, you know? More on that in a second. First,

Disclaimer #2: Hi, I’m MittenWraith and you may remember me from such fanfic offerings as Revenge of the Subtext, which was essentially a rewrite of the end of s10 (that spared Charlie first off) and gave Cas the agency to CHOOSE to give up his grace, not because he was forced to, but because doing so (at the time in canon at the end of s10) also gave him everything he wanted– to be able to stay with Dean and NOT have to watch him murder the world, to finally free himself from the politics and feelings of duty to Heaven (which he’s since essentially declared his loyalty first to the Winchesters over and above Heaven… telling Kelvin to his face that he’s not doing any of this for any sort of redemption in Heaven, he doesn’t even care about that anymore, and referring to the Winchesters as his “family” and the other angels as his “men”). Cas has dissociated HIMSELF from Heaven of his own free will. To his way of thinking, using that grace to save Dean from an eternity of torment was merely a side benefit, you know?

I think we’re approaching this from two fundamentally different basic assumptions about Castiel. I’m not certain if there’s anything I can say that will help you see it from another angle here… but folks keep asking, so I’ll keep trying…

I started writing a thesis (I’m calling it that because it’s gonna be long, and structured like a doctoral dissertation. Hell, I might even write an abstract… it’s gonna be involved) on Castiel’s entire character arc as represented through his struggle for agency and free will against the blind obedience to Heaven that has been forcibly reprogrammed into angels who deviate from their orders. This is the lens through which all of Cas’s development has occurred. As for my thesis, it’s currently stalled out because writing deadlines for pinefest demand I work on that first, and I’ve only covered Cas’s first eight episodes out of 100 and already the paper is more than 1k, so clearly it’s gonna take an astounding amount of time that I just don’t have right now for me to actually research and write…

Point is, even in those first eight episodes (4.01, 4.02, 4.03, 4.07, 4.09, 4.10, 4.15, 4.16), this is already his main conflict as a character. Duty and obedience to heaven versus thinking for himself and doing what he personally feels is right. We see him push back against his orders in 4.18 giving Dean information that will help him “defy prophecy” for the first time, and then we see him attempt to make a complete break with Heaven in 4.20 only to be captured and dragged back for “angel boot camp.” When he returns to his vessel, he’s entirely back to Full Obedience Mode as a function of his grace having been tinkered with in Heaven. Anna lampshades just how horrible what was being done to him there really was, just as Dean lampshaded just how unhappy Anna was when she was given no other choice but to take her own grace back on in 4.10. Her free will, her choice to be human was taken away from her and she did “what she had to do.”

Worst. Phrase. On the show. Ever.

In 8.23 Cas may have had his grace taken from him against his will, but he tried to make the best of it. He struggled with his sudden humanity, but by 9.06 he’d made his peace with it.

CASTIEL: No, Dean. (He puts the box on the counter and turns to face DEAN.) I’m not. I failed at being an angel. Everything I ever attempted came out wrong. But here … at least I have a shot at getting things right. I guess you can’t see it, but … there’s a real dignity in what I do – human dignity.

His entire conversation with Ephraim underscores just how he feels now, and truly introduces this question for the first time:

EPHRAIM: Shh-shh-shhh. It’ll be over soon. I’ll take the pain away.CASTIEL: I want to live.EPHRAIM: But as what, Castiel? As an angel? or a man?

(hey lookie there’s my tag for this entire concept…) but then there’s this:

EPHRAIM: You say you want to live. But you can’t see what I see. By choosing a human life, you’ve already given up. You … chose … death.

Because to Ephraim, who it’s been established has NO understanding of human pain, of human emotions at all, ANY pain is something worth killing over. Even a teenage girl being “sorta bummed” about her boyfriend breaking up with her. To him, ANY human emotions were a pain not worth suffering.

Meanwhile Cas had been doing everything in his power to SAVE HIMSELF, attempting to draw a banishing sigil in blood, cutting his hand on the rose thorns, until Dean managed to toss the angel blade to him and he could kill Ephraim before Ephraim killed him. Cas’s will to live was greater than his desire to only live as an angel. Even if he hadn’t fully chosen humanity for himself back then, he had passed step one of the test and chosen life.

This concept is underscored again when Cas describes to Sam why Dean would cling so hard to being a demon in 10.03:

SAM: What the hell are we doing to him, Cas? I mean, even after I gave him all that blood, he still said he didn’t want to be cured, that he didn’t want to be human.CASTIEL: Well… I see his point. You know, only humans can feel real joy, but … also such profound pain. This is easier.

Cas understands, because he’s experienced the same thing… he KNOWS the real joy and profound pain of being human now, and he also knows what it’s like to not be able to feel those things– not because he knows what it’s like to be a demon, but because he believes it’s similar enough to what it feels like being an angel. Now if that’s not horrifying, and if it doesn’t say bucketloads about Cas’s own personal regret about his own “I did what I had to do” moment in 9.09, in stealing Theo’s grace in what amounted to a sacrifice of his OWN humanity in order to save Dean… Tell me if ANY of this sounds like Cas is happy with this non-choice:

CASTIEL (on the phone) : Dean, I don’t have a lot of time, so listen. The leader of the opposition is an angel named Malachi.DEAN: How do you know that?CASTIEL: He had me. I, uh, I was tortured. But I got away.DEAN: How?CASTIEL: I… I did what I had to. I became what they’ve become. A barbarian.DEAN: What are you – Cas, where are you?CASTIEL: It’s better I stay away. They’re gonna want me even more now. But I’m gonna be all right. I… I got my Grace back. Well, not mine per se, but it’ll do.DEAN: Wait, you’re – you’re back? You got your mojo?CASTIEL: I’m not sure. But I am an angel.DEAN: And you’re okay with that?CASTIEL: If we’re going to war, I need to be ready.DEAN: (pause) Cas.CASTIEL: Dean. There’s more.DEAN: What?CASTIEL: Didn’t you say Sam was healed by an angel named Ezekiel?DEAN: Uh… Yeah, why?CASTIEL: Ezekiel is dead.DEAN: What?CASTIEL: He died when the angels fell.DEAN’s face has a very concentrated “oh this is bad” expression.

A VERY CONCENTRATED “OH THIS IS BAD” EXPRESSION

Under torture by Theo, Cas had asked for a quick death, until he heard that Ezekiel had died in the fall, and realized that Dean had trusted Ezekiel to help heal Sam… THIS INFORMATION WAS WORTH DOING “WHAT HE HAD TO DO” just to be sure that Sam and Dean were safe from this unknown angel that HE had personally vouched for… that we’ve just learned is actually Gadreel…

IT’S ALL A HUGE MESS.

To me, Cas’s decision to take on another angel’s grace was just as much of a non-choice as Metatron stealing his original grace had been. And to Cas, WHAT he is doesn’t necessarily matter as much as the fact that HE CHOSE IT FOR HIMSELF.

Every single time he’s done what he had to do, every time his agency’s been taken from him, the vehicle that made it possible was his grace.

He’s been asked over and over again for years if he’s really an angel (and been told to his face by numerous other angels that he ISN’T an angel anymore), he’s been called a tool and told he was only marginally useful… and yet he’s been called Family and welcomed unconditionally by the Winchesters. Mostly because they’re not FORCING him to be anything in particular, you know?

As to your “Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters” from 7.21, I’ve written a lot about Cas’s mental state in late s7 here, which goes a long way to give a fuller context to that line. Out of context, it sounds very different to seeing how it fits with the entire picture of Cas’s late s7 guilt. In a lot of ways, running away from his responsibility (think “I don’t fight I watch the bees” and constantly referring to himself and his actions in the third person, with “An angel brought the Leviathan back into this world, and – and they begged him. They begged him not to do it.”). It took redeeming himself in some small measure by helping to send the Leviathan back to Purgatory in 7.23 for him to even BEGIN to integrate himself again… And then begins his depression/atonement arc that includes his ongoing battle with his own agency via his choice to remain in Purgatory, his complete loss of agency to Naomi, and then Metatron… this has ALWAYS been what has driven and defined Castiel’s narrative, and every bit of character development he’s ever experienced.

And it’s ALWAYS been tied to his identity as an angel and the very existence of his grace. And even HE has said that he doesn’t identify as an angel anymore or feel allied to Heaven, but like Demon Dean clinging to whatever it was that made him a demon because it was easier not to feel that pain, like Soulless Sam desperate to do anything to prevent himself from being reunited with his soul, Cas is still holding on to his grace in a similar way (narratively speaking).

(thing is, once Dean was cured of the Mark and once Sam was reunited with their soul, they were GRATEFUL not to have been left in that unfeeling state, you know? they’ll take the pain, because it beats “being a stepford bitch in paradise.”)

Cas believes he needs his grace to be “useful,” despite already beginning to understand how the Winchesters see him as family. I don’t believe that Cas will be given a “no choice” scenario in which he’ll feel compelled to sacrifice his grace in an emergency situation, as some sort of “throwing himself on a grenade” because he had no other choice. The entire POINT is that it would be his freely-made CHOICE.

No matter WHAT he chooses. I’m not saying he absolutely must give up his grace. I’m saying that every sign and every conflict that’s driven his narrative development over the last 9 seasons has been leading him along this path where eventually he WILL have that choice. And when that time comes, I believe that what he eventually will choose for himself (because he wants it) is to live out a human life with the Winchesters.

I am REALLY looking forward to 13.04, because I think we’re going to gain a LOT of insight into Cas’s current emotional/mental state. And HOW he comes back from his current state of not-aliveness is going to be key to understanding what’s in store for him over the next season. So until then, I’m going to stand by this analysis.

#Anonymous #castiel winchester #are you an angel or a man castiel? (hint: he's no angel)#you learned it from the goats #spn 7.21 #spn 9.06 #spn 10.22 #spn 10.03 #spn 7.23 #spn 8.23 #and probably a lot more episodes but I'm currently burdened by fever delirium and i'm just happy that this reply is marginally coherent #and i do feel that the insistence that cas MUST retain his grace ignores the fact that it might not be what cas himself would even want #so we have both sides of the debate believing the other side doesn't care about what cas would choose for himself #when in reality all i want for cas is for him to be able to make that choice for himself...#i just haven't seen anything in the narrative that would point to the fact that his eventual choice will be to remain an angel #and everything points to him eventually choosing to be human #or else what is the point of repeatedly asking him that question anyway you know?#spn 4.22 #on the nature of angel grace #angels and souls #that's what free will is #and grace is sorta the antithesis of that...

27 notes · View notes

ithacamafia · 7 years

Text

SYAA2L: For Your Consideration.

Many moons have passed since the last mixtape was posted on these here parts. I’m looking to remedy that ailment right quick, not just with the most recent "Songs You Are About To Love” mix dreamt up by Matthew and myself -- but two additional mixes as well from the past two years. With any luck, enjoyment for all of us should soon follow.

- “SYAA2L: Impact.” (2015) A gem of a mix, possibly one of our best, where we muse on our Dads, our own roles as Dad, and the influences surrounding those orbits (wandering off into car accidents, pro wrestling, and baseball). CLICK TO ENJOY.

- “CSYAA2L: New Plan For Stan.” (2016) A cover song mixtape which gets pretty weird, pretty fast -- and could have, understandably, forged on forever (leaving all sorts of music genres crushed in the wake). CLICK TO ENJOY.

- “SYAA2L: For Your Consideration.” (2017) A mix in which Matty proposes sharing songs which we are not *only* about to love -- but tunes in which, under the right circumstances, could be considered the best. songs. ever.

We also work though a bunch of.... stuff.

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN, continue reading the liner notes for a deep dive into our latest and greatest (ever?):

Kevin,

I don't blame you, dude. And I definitely don't blame myself. I mean, our lives are busy. There are dogs and t-ball. There's grocery shopping... and birthday parties. Hell, we've got wives, lives and and the bunker in Argonne Forest. We are busy. It's no wonder we haven't made a mixtape in forever plus one day.

Truth be told, I was close to writing this email a long time ago. I had a good list of prospective songs and an idea for a theme... something about what gets a song consideration as potentially the Best Song Ever. It was a good list and there were a few songs on there that I was really excited about. Then a thing happened that threw everything off track. The album that one of those songs was off of was suddenly and unceremoniously removed from Spotify. (Truth be told, there may have been a ceremony, but if there was I sure as hell wasn't invited.) I was pissed. Upset. Sad. I had so many questions. What would become of my mixtape future? How could I live without one of my expected cornerstones?

I figured it would be okay. I thought that the feeling would pass eventually. I assumed that if I gave it some time, I would forget about that song and remember what was important about our mixtapes. The sharing. The camaraderie. You know, being pals... I figured it was just a matter of time.

It wasn't. It wasn't a mater of time, dude. That feeling never waned and I decided to give up any hope I might have had about living the mixtape-filled future I'd always assumed I'd live. Screw sharing. Screw being pals.

But then this week something good happened! I was driving along, listening to the same old songs and I saw it - there, in my playlist - back just as quickly as it had disappeared: my old pal - this song! It was back! I figured that it must be a sign. We have to do a mixtape now, right? Right. If for no other reason than because it's a race against time before the song disappears again. This song is like mixtape Brigadoon. It only appears once every hundred years. We have to seize the opportunity!

So here it is. A new mixtape. That original idea was a variation on a theme that we've touched on before... the thing your wife said once about how you listen to a song differently when you know that it's someone's favorite song. "Well, if he thinks it's the best song ever, then... I don't know - maybe it is?!" I think the new idea was about how lots of songs could be the best song ever if the circumstances are right. You know - the song you're listening to in 7th grade when that girl you've hoping for months would hold your hand is suddenly holding your hand, that song is going to feel like the best song ever. At the very least, it's going to feel better than it is. So, with that in mind, the potential for a song to be great widens considerably. When you consider environmental factors and mood and just where you are in your head - the sky is limitless.

So, friend, I thought we could do another list of songs that we are about to love, songs that also just might be the best song ever:

SYAA2L: For Your Consideration

Naturally, my first pick has to be the song that came and went (and then came back again). I feel like it earned this slot. On top of that, these guys closed a mix for us a long time ago... it seems only fitting that I stick them in here to kick this one off. Now, this isn't a song that I would have thought stood a chance to be the best song ever (BSE) upon first listen. No part of it soars. There's no divine guitar solo. There's no pristine vocal performance. Still though, every time I listen to it, my heart grows fonder. And I know what you're thinking - you're thinking, "Matty, it's the song's absence that has you thusly ensorcelled." Well, you're wrong. This song has been in heavy rotation for me for years now... its absence is just the thing that has since moved me to try and share it with you (and the three people that listen to our mixes). There's a lot going on here and the whole thing is steeped in classic rock influences. I love it.

Give it a listen. You may agree, you may not - but I for one think it might be the best song ever.

Here's The End of That, by Plants and Animals.

- M

==========

We're forty, Matthew. Forty years old. Who has time for music? (Let alone MIXING that music with another person. Or for another person. For anyone. Forreals.)

I certainly don't.

I've accepted the fact that you and I -- we -- have reached the point in our lives where music is predetermined to become rote. A thing. A noice machine that plays in the background of car rides or making dinner or clicking on the compute.r Something that just drowns out the ever-present sound of our slowly dying hearts.

This is the point we've arrived at, Matt. You can't fight it. Inevitable.

We're the old me whose teenage songs are the best songs ever. And those songs are now classic rock. No longer in fashion, beyond fashion, around the bend until they ironically become appreciated again (when our kids are about juniors in college). Until then? Laughable.

But cling to your last whisp of youth if you must, much like we did the same to our eroding hairlines. Tell yourself that these songs -- your song, with the nimble jaunty gee-tar and the "fucked-up bumblebee" lyric that might have captured a younger Kevin -- might be the best songs ever. Under the right circumstances. Inimitable.

Thing is, I'm in the circumstance where I'm swimming in the sea, wandering, desperately tryin' to get a grip on my emotions...

I'm falling apart

You wanna get me on board? Better be new but feel classic. Sound joyous but exude despair. And don't even bother knocking unless you're got a name worthy of my goddamn time.

Dig?

Chicano Batman. Friendship (Is A Small Boat In A Storm).

... Dig.

==========

You fool. In your vain attempt to disprove my point, all you've done is embrace it. Do I want to get you on board? Look around you, Kevin. You are on board. Sure, your opening diatribe is all about being too old for this shit, but then you drop Chicano Batman on us and it's immediately evident that the old man rant you're selling is not a product that you are willing to buy. Of course, no one wants to be on a small boat in a storm - that would suck. But think of the alternatives. Would you rather no boat in a storm? Can I interest you in a small brick? If friendship is all you got, kid, then friendship just might be the thing that saves you.

So, friendship is a boat in a storm. True. And obviously Mixtapes are friendship... And everybody knows that if A equals B and B equals C, then A equals C. So, mixtapes are also a boat in a storm. There will be no argument. You're going to make this mixtape and in this mixtape, maybe, find your salvation. We've known each other a long time, and as one of your first mates, I demand that you walk away from the light. We've got work to do.

You see, we are forty, bro. And there is a good portion of life that must be set aside now for fighting the notion that your best years are behind you. But you have to recognize that what you (and Chicano Batman) have done here is underscore a central point to my thesis. That song, for all of its despairing, still might (MIGHT!) be the best song ever. And Mixtapes.... Friendship...These are the things that keep us young. These are the things that keep us alive. What if - WHAT IF! - that song is the best song in the world?! Or what if it's this next one!? That's worth living for, right? Our hearts can't be slowly dying if the next song we hear might be the best one ever!

You're not falling apart. You're not. And I will always be proud to be Irish Robin to your Chicano Batman.

I hadn't planned to use this song here, but you seem like you need a pick me up - and I serve at the pleasure of this mix's wants and needs, so here it is. Here's: Die Alone.

Like most happy songs, this one draws some lyrics straight from a 2000 year old Roman poem that Catullus wrote upon the occasion of his brother's death. The whole poem is quite lovely. It speaks about traveling across seas to provide funeral rites to his brother's silent ashes. The part they excerpt for this song means something like, "I come to a conclusion, handed down from generations… Now and forever, my brother, hail and farewell."

Oh shit. I see now that I've made an error in judgement. Um... when they're speaking Latin, just picture the scene from the end of the Grinch. It sort of sounds like that, and that's totally uplifting. His heart grew.

Here's Die Alone by We Are Star Children.

==========

Fine, Star Child.

Fine, fine, fine. 

G’head and sally forth with your new mixes and new musics. Sing me sweet songs of friendship and dead brothers. Convince yourself that these trifling tunes could somehow rise to the level and legacies of our fathers’ — and our fathers’ fathers (favorite songs). On some level, in some reality, I get it. They’re the Schrödinger's Cat of Best Songs Ever: inside the box of this mixtape, yet to be revealed to the world — all possibilities exist at once. Each song, both the greatest pieces of music ever and also being toss-aways not worthy of bargain bin cassingles. 

In a way, it doesn’t matter what I pick. When it exists in the possibility of these moments before my selection, they are perfect. Only once revealed, do they become a power-chord “fuck you” song. A well-worn singalong anthem. The middle finger to an ex-lover. Simple formulas showing little heart past the surface. Or a thread, a moment, tapping directly into a youthful vein as it pumps unbridled angst and fury through our collective subconsciousness.   I dunno, man. I ain't that smart. Fuck your Ivy League sweater. 

Harvard. Diet Cig.

==========

Oh, Kevin. Your armor is wearing thin. What's that you said? "In a way it doesn't matter what I pick..." Sure, and that was followed immediately by your picking a protest-too-much song about how the singer is 'completely over' the dude enduring the Boston weather. Yeah, she's so over it that she's locked in a room somewhere writing emails tosongs about him.

I always imagine the ex sitting and listening to a song like this (...a song that was, I guess, intended to prove to them that the other had moved on). I find it far more likely that the ex lover sits there and says, "Yep, all I have to do is pick up the phone."

That's you, dude. You know that the cat is very much alive inside the box. You know it. He's in here with headphones on. He just needs you to drop this pretense and accept the fact that having angst and fury pumped through our collective unconscious is pretty great. He needs you to accept that Harvard by Diet Cig might be the best song ever.

I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life, friendo. I'm brave enough not to tame you. I'm happy to sit here and let you burst into flames. In fact, I'll stoke the coals and watch you blow. This mixtape is going to be here. I'm going to stay too... and not just because I want to prove your wrong. I am going to stay because there might be soaring vocals and hand claps. I'm going to stay because we might stumble into the best song ever.

I'll stay because I want to hear what comes next (...and I know that you do too).

This is Strange by LP.

==========

There was a time, not so long ago, where soaring vocals, hand claps, and a solo piano would be enough for a song to worm its way inside my heart. Throw in thematic messages about how we're all strange, we're all weirdos, you're not alone, blah blah blah -- and you've got yourself the bedrock of my personal musical roadmap. But not this time. No, sir. I'm simply a jaded old man who only connects with such songs when they're played over ads for HBO original programming.

Speak of sweet promises like "When you're lost and you're left and it's getting worse / They're the only ones who you know will get you by" as images of Julia Louis-Dreyfus and the Khaleesi flit by underneath it. Then, and only then, will the path be clear. It's not TV. It's what's left of my soul.

Go ahead, adjust the script to electronic hand claps, anthemic pre-choruses, vocals that soar so high above our mountains majesty. Won't matter. Lay down an overarching sense of anti-love, of brutal honesty and indifference towards those who’ve wronged you — of knowing that no one is going to feel better about any of this shit that's happened between us anytime soon and that’s just the way things are because that’s that's what it means to be an adult.

There’s grey between the lines.

Tack all that on top and I'll barely flinch. You're giving me a very effective Audi commercial at best. And you had best believe you cannot build what I don’t need.

And I know. I need. To feel. Relief.

Take care.

Leave A Trace, by CHVRCHES.

==========

Hey, asshole - I don't know who you think you're talking to - but lest you forget, please allow me to remind you... I’m not just some schmo off the street that is going to be impressed by your calculated musical depression. There is no part of me that is turned on by your measured disinterest. I’m not going to sit here, starry-eyed, saying, “Oh, disillusioned TV writer… I'm totally impressed by your ability to turn a phrase and craft a snarky argument. Please, tell me more about how you’re dead inside and soulless.”

A very effective Audi commercial? Are you kidding me? Son, I’ve seen you rise from a newborn sleep to become a reckless ballerina at the moment that Brendog overcomes his stage fright and Saba kicks into gear. I’ve seen you turn the lamest of weddings up to 11 when the right song gets a hold of your earholes. These are not the actions of a man who could ever be dead inside.

I get it, I get it. You're William Hurt from The Big Chill, trying to prove it to your college pals that you have evolved past them, that your life experience has illuminated their youthful exuberance as folly. Well that would all be well and good if it wasn't such utter bullshit. This, “…aww-shucks, I’m just an old dad trying to pay bills and keep my lawn in shape…” isn’t you, and it sure as shit isn’t me. That’s common people shit. We are soul men. You talk about ‘what's left of your soul’ like the piece that's hurting is gone and lost forever. That's not how souls work.

Believe me, I understand – living the life of the common schmo is appealing. The blissful ignorance our neighbors enjoy seems totally attractive on the surface. It must be nice to be a regular guy. It is, without question, the easy way out. Your wife buys you a bunch of pocket tees from Old Navy and you are content to work 9 to 5, five days a week, forever – as long as you get to watch football on Sundays. If you want to embrace every aspect of that life, then do it. If you want to throw in the towel and abandon your search for a song that moves you, so be it. If you want to close up shop, pack it in and quietly await death, go for it. You want to live like common people? You want to see whatever common people see? Fine. I for one am going to rage against that machine with every fiber of my being, even as the circumstances of my life lead me further and further towards that abyss.

I’m reminded of a time not long ago when I was sitting with my grandfather-in-law on his back porch. We were having a cocktail and he was telling stories. In a lull in the conversation he sighed and said, regarding the rest of the family in the living room, “Ah well, I guess we’d better head back inside… listen to the bullshit.” It was, I think, one of the funniest and saddest things I’ve ever heard.

I don’t want to be 85 and resigned to listening to the bullshit. You can if you want. Go ahead. Laugh along with the Common People. (Pulp.) I'm going to keep trying to find a long that means something.   PS - That's not even how you spell Churches. PPS - And you know. You need. Unique. New York.

==========

No one *wants* to be sitting there at the ripe ol’ age of eighty-five, resigned to the bullshit. But with life, comes constraints. Families can't just be ditched because they're idiots. Much as you might like. We can't magically wish the world into the sort of place where Pulp's timeless rallying cry universally touches our fellow man... not when odds are the bullshit like William Shatner's version is probably preferred by most of 'em.

That being said: I want. I want plenty.

And sure, some of my wants might be common -- standards like health, happiness, a roof over my kids head. But not all of them. I also wanna feel flames licking at my back as I barrel through a brushfire (but I fear being burnt). I want to craft something so staggering with my own two hands (but I'm far too clumsy). I wanna taste stardust, sea air, soft earth. To flit along the threads of a dew-covered spiderweb. To behold true beauty, eyes like mirrors, until my breath is ripped from my chest.

I Wanta Holler (But The Town's Too Small).

Constraints, Matthew. We can't all be Gary U.S. Bonds.

==========

*jams fingers into ears* *shakes head wildly*

DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT CONSTRAINTS, DAMMIT! JUST DON'T!

I'm a soul man! Can't you get that?! I will listen to the bullshit, sure - but I REFUSE to resign myself to listening to the bullshit! I will not accept that the bullshit is all there is! I will continue to dream of a world that has moments - just moments, here and there, that are free of bullshit! You have to let me have that! All I have are those dreams! It's just me and my dreams and (despite what it seems) it ain't much, but yet it's JUST enough.

*plays Soulman, by Ben L'Oncle Soul* *removes fingers from ears* *stops shaking head* *breathes*

==========

You want a Soul Man? I'll get ya a Soul Man. But he ain't got a lot of time. He could maybe stay for three minutes or so. Tops. And Chuck -- that's my Soul Man's name -- Chuck ain't here to spit sweet nothings in our ears. He won't be spinning an effervescent number about this fun new dance he's discovered. He's no mashed potato. No C. Thomas Howell Soul Man.

Nope. Chuck's gonna stand center stage, tear open his goddamn heart, and thrust both arms elbow-deep into the bullshit.

He's gonna howl and holler and implore those of us who can hear his cries to not just *see* the bullshit before him, but to help him rid the world of it. Chuck wails "What are ya gonna DOOOOOOOO?" And I'm left realizing that perhaps my Old Man wallowing and resignations were misguided. I need to be standing up with my man Chuck. I need to purposefully step into the bullshit, and try to change it. Change. Change the false preachers -- Change the hate in us -- Change for the better of our soul.

We've gotta change our love. Change For The World. I've got to give you my love. Shout them lines. Take this love. Charles (I call him Chuck) Bradley.

==========

Well, alright! This guy's somebody that I can work with! This last message - and this last song - these both seem to have my old pal, Kevin in there somewhere.

Now we're starting to really get at this thing.... huh? So what are we really talking about then? It's circumstances, right? It's not about whether a person has made choices in life that have ultimately complicated their ability to be happy or carefree - that's everyone. That's how time works. The longer you linger, the harder it is to be happy and the more careful you have to be. No, this here is about what we do with those circumstances. Are we going to see the bullshit of our lives and be resigned to it, or are we - like my man Chuck - going to see that bullshit and vow to plow through it? Are we going to commit to a persistent evolution and say to all comers, "Just keep shoveling - I shall rise above..."?

It's because we keep evolving that our appreciation of a thing can change. I will hear a song differently depending on what I am bringing to the table. That next song could always be the best one because I am changing. My soul is evolving.

"Change for the better of our souls?" Fucking-a right. You just need to adjust your perspective. The whole world should know that if you talk to us about your circumstances, we're going to talk to you about perspective.

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." Mark Twain "It's not the years, it's the mileage." Indiana Jones "It Ain't What You Got, (*Goldust noise*) it's how you use it." Jimmy Hughes

Things are looking up.

-M

==========

Yeah! Yeah. I’m here. I’m back, baby! I’m in like Flynn -- and not the wretched piece of shit who sold us out, serving as a blazing reminder of how utterly debased and cataclysmic our current government has become -- because *that* would be focusing on the low-fi.

We're all about the hi-fi now.

Can't afford to dwell on cards dealt or bum situations or sleights -- because dude, I could easily sit here for hours and grouse about stuff like the time a group of older teens stole my basketball on the playground near my home; and how powerless, how impotent that felt (further compounding the abundance of inadequacies I already struggled with) -- no, no no no no. No time for that.

Gotta focus on the here. The now. No dwelling among the past regrets -- like this time in elementary school when I wrote on another kid's backpack, insisting to myself that it was simply because he wasn't that nice of a kid (when, in reality, he was simply an easy target because he was a big bigger for our age). Dr. Martin Rand would call that shit transference, if I recall our psych classes correctly. Kicking down the rungs on that ladder of misplaced childhood anger. I bullied that kid and feel shitty about it now, and sure I could try to wrack my addled memory, trying to remember his name, even search the internet in a faint hope of finding him to make amends -- but that's the past. Can't change it now.

We face the future. We take stock of the endless possibilities spread out before our kids and bask in them -- not fretting over the ever-present, ever-compounding number of fears and anxieties over this changing world and our inability to shelter or protect them from the Flynns or the basketball thieves or the shitty little bullies like we once were --

-- to say nothing of the inevitable heartbreaks -- -- or the state of humanity in general -- -- the death and decline of our ecosystems --

Naw, man. Hi-fi. Things are looking up.

Totally.

Yeah.

I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts. X.

==========

That’s what I’m talking about! We're all about the hi-fi! Keep our eyes on the prize, right?     I couldn’t agree more, buddy – we absolutely cannot afford to dwell on those bum situations or slights of the past. I mean, Jesus, if I did that I might end up losing whole days down terrifying rabbit holes in the dark recesses of my psyche. Yikes. I would never want to get caught in a rut where I was obsessing about the missteps of my life. You know, where you're just spinning and spinning contemplating all those notions that normally lay dormant... Dormant, that is, until the moment you are least expecting them, when something reminds you about them and they reemerge and consume you… Actually, now that you mention it, I’ve got a lot of stuff like that – things that pop up in my head out of nowhere just when I think I’ve successfully ignored them out of existence. Things I should have done differently… other choices I should have made… people I could have been better to… Come to think of it, “I must not think bad thoughts…” is a mantra I rely on quite a bit. Honestly, between that kind of abject denial and booze, I’ve got a pretty good system down. There’s a trick to a system like that though, isn’t there… Because the minute you tell yourself not think bad thoughts – you know… here they come. It's really about maintaining - keeping yourself busy with whatever is next. All that goes out the window though when you forget that you must not think bad thoughts. Just now, for example, as I was listening to your song (...about not thinking bad thoughts), it occurred to me how silly it is that we've been having this email exchange about navigating the bullshit of life and overcoming adversity. I mean, the utter absurdity of two 40 year old white male Americans gabbing about their struggle - I could definitely obsess about that… about how I was given a golden ticket, squandered it, and yet still have the audacity to spout this Poor Me nonsense…     As we speak, I actually can’t stop thinking about that. Or – if I wanted to – I could spend time thinking about all those times in my life when I was other people’s circumstances. It’s so easy to get tunnel vision about your own troubles and lose sight of the way you’re impacting others. I mean, ask anyone – I’m kind of a hard ass (…and there have been very few people in my life that have been patient enough to find any charm in that). There were so many times where I was not careful with other people's feelings. It sucks actually… you know – when you think about it. Don't get me wrong, I hear what you're saying - you're saying the past is the past and we need to look forward. How though can I be expected to look towards the future with any confidence, if all I've done throughout the history of my life is bungle each opportunity and always hurt the ones I love? I mean, do I have any right at all to keep it hi-fi? Christ, when you think about it that way, you were probably right all along - it just doesn't fucking matter what song I pick. It really could not matter any less. Best song ever? Who gives a shit. Circumstances? The only circumstance that counts is that we were all given this beautiful gift of life and every person that I've ever met has royally shit the bed with that opportunity. Pick a song? Sure, I'll pick a song. Here's a catchy little number called Nothing, Not Nearly by Laura Marling. It appropriately starts off with a noise that sounds like me slowly screwing myself ever further down into hell with everything I do. Might this be the best song ever? Maybe. I think it could be. But really, who gives I damn what I think? Not me, that’s for sure. Not anybody else either. Why would they? I'm a screw up nobody that can't stop thinking bad thoughts. Thanks for reminding me.

==========

So, um, it's, uh... it's entirely possible that my last song sort of, um -- well, it seems to have *only* made us think bad thoughts.

That one's on me. My bad.

But look, we still got that sweet bluesy-talky Laura Marling number out of it. And if I've learned anything from "Inside Out," it's that allowing (or embracing, even) your sadness is a pretty goddamn important component to having a healthy emotional life. Don't try to deny it. Multitudes, y'know? Even if yer troubles tend to hedge toward the mundane -- they're no less legitimate. Underneath these innocuous trappings we all be fretting the same thing. Trust me.

Take this couple out on the sidewalk, for example. They're young and heading into this house that's for sale. ��Checking it out. Scoping the neighborhood, wondering how they'll afford everything. Is this the right place to start their family, to build their home together? On the surface, they talk about the wallpaper and the previous owner and how they'll cut back on lattes to save some money -- but the underlying worry is all about that same thing I was talking about: our own fucking mortality.

Perhaps it ain't the time to be happy. We all end up in Depreston from time to time. Least we can do is ease into things gracefully, just like Courtney Barnett does.

==========

Well, now I feel terrific. I thought we were just doing mid-life crisis... you're mixing in mortality. Yeesh.

I appreciate your effort, I guess. I spent most of Inside Out looking at my phone, though - so I probably missed most of the finer points. Actually, I spend most of the time that I'm not working or actively parenting looking at my phone. When I see that same thing in other people, I usually assume that they are dead inside. With me it's more that it's all I can muster, having given so much to those times when I am working/actively parenting.

I get it. suppose it is better to try and frame the whole sadness/depression thing as transitory. If I were sad or depressed then I probably would have found your words of encouragement, you know - encouraging. But that's sort of the thing. I'm not sad or depressed. I've made not being sad or depressed into an art form. Outwardly I'm pretty happy and inwardly I'm just sort of numb. There's this running gag at work where when people pass me in the hall and say, "How's it going..." or whatever people say, I always respond the same. I say, "Best day ever." And they laugh because they know the nature of my job precludes me from having a lot of great days. Still though, it's not like it's a cry for help or anything - I just like that people think it's funny and I go along with it.

The next song on our mixtape is Running from My Savior by Wolfie's Just Fine. I've listened to it about 2000 times and I never really had a handle on what it's about. I sort of think about it like Jules in Pulp Fiction and Ezekiel 25:17. You know, where he can't decide who is evil, who is righteous and who is the tyranny of evil men. Like Jules, originally, I never thought about what this song meant. I just thought it was catchy. The more I listen to it though, the more I try to figure out who is the Savior and who is the Narrator. Sure, I'd like to think that I'm the Savior, trying as he might to shepherd the unwilling out of danger and save them from themselves. Sometimes I even think that the Narrator could be America, running in the opposite direction from progress with it's thumbs in its ears, ranting about how everything will be fine because America is the best. Of course though, I need only get to the line, "I am not unique, but only I can pretend..." to discover the truth. The truth is, I'm the Narrator. Breathlessly running away from anything that might be the right direction and anyone trying to help. Pretending. Always pretending.

It's a good song, I think. I know it doesn't matter though. Sorry to be a downer. I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the Savior. Maybe next time.

==========

Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaah.

...

*cough*

...

*looks at watch*

Huh. Fifteen songs already. Guess we're Halfway Home.

...

*nods*

Yup.

...

(Broken Social Scene)

==========

...because when you really think about it we're all in charge of our own shit, right? We all have the power to decide how we respond to our circumstances... We can choose to be joyful. Of course, the sad truth of it is that sometimes the context of our lives requires that we lie to ourselves if we want to make a choice that is contrary to our reality. In short, sometimes you have to bullshit yourself quite a bit just to keep it together. That's life. So what if you get stuck in a rut where the lying to yourself seems to happen seamlessly and without forethought in everything that you do? If that's what you need to get through... well, shit, I guess that's what I need to do. I've gotten pretty good at it - if not for these emails I'd probably be happily going about my nice little Saturday today... trip to Toys R Us to get another birthday present + wrapping for some kid I've never met, and then (if the weather holds) I'll get to mow the lawn while the kid is at the party. Should be sweet. We're hoping to get to Price Chopper later - we're out of spinach and toilet paper. Keep it up, Matty - you're doing great.

Fifteen songs. Forty years. Halfway home.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation? I don't think so. In my experience, the desperation only comes in spurts, in waves, like this one. Really, most of my life is spent in that complete and seamless denial. That's what I see all around me. Everyone is just trying to maintain - putting up a front so they can, I don't know what... get to the weekend? To that week vacation? You're goddamn right I must not think bad thoughts. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine. If I keep doing things the same boring-ass way I've always done them, I will somehow, miraculously get to enjoy the good life sometime before I die. Christ, I'm too busy lying to myself to be desperate.

So, here we go... Things are good. I enjoy a good salad, my neighbors didn't build a giant fucking tree-house in their front yard, and I am very pleased with the way everyone drives when it's raining. Also, I quite enjoy living in the suburbs, no one in my office gets on my nerves and David Bowie is very much alive.

I'm doing it, bud. I'm keeping it hifi. I am very excited about this next pick. Definitely one of my favorite artists ever, it's off of his newest album - this might be the best song ever! - here it is, it's Sign of the Times by David Bowie.

==========

I've been sitting here all weekend sifting through the jumbled pieces of my psyche, trying to rationalize a world in which some candy kid from One Direction channels Bowie via Oasis and calls into question the laws of musical fame vis a vis bubblegum pop stardom blooming into True Artistry. I thunk on the Beatles (mainly because Sirius finally added a goddamn Beatles channel which is pretty great but plays waaaaaaaaaaaay too many solo Ringo songs for anyone's taste save for maybe Ringo himself, but deep down even he knows it's over the top) and how those fab kids made the leap from Tiger Beat to True Artistry -- which, of course, led me to mull over how many other artists have been able to make such a transition (not that I'm saying this One Direction kid is a True Artist -- yet certainly one can appreciate his attempts toward or yearning for such credibility) except ultimately, I never really found a followup song able to ride the vein toward Best Song Everdom since we're also trying to make a mix here.

So I sit here mucking about themes of men and their quiet, spurting desperations, trying to find a follow-up that carefully encapsulates the emotional weight I feel inside my chest in most of my quiet waking moments (which, granted, could also be undiagnosed angina) -- when I end up sidetracked into researching whether The Kid can keep playing baseball next year or whether she's going to get shuttled off to youth softball because, you know, she's a girl.

She ain't gonna be interested in softball, Matty. Her friends (who are boys) play baseball and she knows the Sox play baseball and all of her carefully curated trading cards are of baseball players. Not softball players. At which point I slide into this sinkhole of eventual injustices and inequities she's definitely going to face as she gets older and all the while I'm spiraling there's this soft repetitive thumping in the back of my head -- pounding like an incessant Jehova's Witness on my front stoop, trying desperately to give me the good word.

But I'm flailing, coming to terms with the fact that I'm ill-prepared to equip her with any sort of armor against the very basic totalshittyness of being a girl in our society and then the door opens and it's not a Jehova's Witness at all -- but some guy who knows a thing or two about catchy pop songs. And then *he* starts slagging off Rick Astley out of the blue ("that dick's a clown"!!!) while spouting a simple tenet which will serve my girl well in life -- AND it ties in nicely with the other theme of guys and their spurting waves of desperation. Like a neat little package. Perfect. Trust me.

Or don't. Because I'm full of shit. All Men Are Liars. Thanks, Nick Lowe.

==========

Kevin! This is what I'm talking about! All Men Are Liars (...to themselves and everybody else, but mostly to themselves)! And you're right (wrong) by pointing out that you yourself are full of shit - that song sticks us smack dab into a paradoxical loop. How can we believe Nick Lowe while he's quite literally telling us that he's full of baloney. Even if I did tell you that I believe him, you couldn't trust that I legitimately did, because I might just be 'believing' him for show. I'm totally full of crap. Just like you. Just like Nick Lowe.

Believe me when I tell you that I tried hard to find a good Rick Astley song to slot in here... well actually, that's not true at all. The truth is that it occurred to me that I could slot a Rick Astley song in here (and how funny that might be...) But then I remembered how all Rick Astley songs sound sort of the same and how his face creeps me out a little because he always seems strangely out of focus. So whatevs, I moved on.

Now where were we then? Oh yeah, softball.

Bud, I don't know what to tell you. I hope that it's some comfort to hear that raising a young man in Trump's America is no picnic either. Of course, I wouldn't pretend to equate the two - I'm just saying, when faced with similar (albeit fewer) questions, I often just throw my hands up and say, "All we can do is prepare him for the world as best we can and hope that when the time comes to fly, he flies." Sure, I can understand the urge to, "...slide into the sinkhole of eventual injustices..." but what good can you be to her if you're in a puddle on the floor? None. So what do you do? You lie to yourself. Why? Because the best you can do is try to maintain. That's what all of this is about, right? I'm not just lying to myself for me... I've got a family to think of.

I feel like maintaining is the least we can do when it comes to the little guys. Childhood is a bridge. We need to just get them to a place where they can think on their own and then hope against hope that they have the audacity to be true to themselves. Please, oh please, let them be okay just being who they are and telling the rest of whoever to go screw.

...and so what if she wants to play baseball? Eve ate the apple because the apple was sweet. Doesn't make her a bad person. There's nothing to be afraid of there. She was hungry. Right? What kind of God forbids fruit? What kind of God would ever keep a girl from getting what she needs? Eat an apple. Go play baseball. Give no fucks.

...and so what if that means that they get damned in the popular opinion! I say, let that be just another damn in the damns they're not giving.

This next song is about something like that, I think. It's Josh Ritter if Josh Ritter was asked, "Hey, can you write a song like Only the Good Die Young for a movie like Footloose in the style of Tom Petty?" This one took me a long time to warm to - I tend to like the quiet one man and a guitar Josh Ritter. The more I listen to it though, the more I see how the band really lifts it up. Call me a liar, but it might be the best song ever.

If that's not enough to sell you, this song also has the only lyric I'd ever consider getting tattooed on my body.** And that's the truth.

Here's Getting Ready to Get Down by Josh Ritter.

-M

==========

Man, that's a *much* better idea for a tattoo than my ill-conceived (and thankfully avoided) intention in college to have a Celtic band tattooed around my arm. Now you know me, Mack. Has there EVER been a point in which my biceps -- hell, even one bicep -- have been tattoo-worthy? To say nothing of the fact that I don't have a drop of Irish blood in my bones (all praise to your own Celtic ancestors, of course). Folly of youth, holmes.

That sweet Ritter track is gonna aid me mightily on our massive road trip to Kentucky this weekend -- plenty of time to soak up the strong "Life Is A Highway" vibe, with the windows down and the hair blowing past my sunglassed eyes. So so so good. As for any potential Baseball v. Softball clash -- the jury is still out. And truth be told, I give zero fucks about popular opinion -- I was just hoping to avoid marching on the town Rec Center chanting "Free Mister Clark!" I'd rather work on her batting stance.

Thus, I've chosen my follow-up track very carefully: a power-trio of kick-ass women who take your bustling beat from the previous track and kick the pep up juuuuust a tad. The bassline alone is tight as a goddamn tripwire. Their message, concise. To the point. There's no mistaking what they want, and they're not going to let it go until you listen to them. Polite, but firm. Don't close the Door, they ask you, Nice As Fuck.

==========

Okay, okay, I think I'm starting to get it. I think that we may be approaching something that might slightly resemble actual self-awareness. "All the shit that we talk is a smokescreen?" Yup. That seems appropriate. Because really, there's not much to 'talk', right? Talk (when I talk anyway) is almost always some form of excuse or another. Some half-assed justification for taking the easy way... for ignoring the voice inside me that knows how I alone am responsible for my state of mind. A closed door is the easy way. It's definitive. Safe. All this non-sense about how I don't want to think bad thoughts because it depresses me is really all pretense, isn't it? The truth is that what depresses me is my seeming inability to get out of my own way and put in the work it takes to feel better.

Baby steps, untie my knots.

It doesn't take much, does it? I guess for some people it does. I don't think that's me though. Leaving the door open. Or sometimes just a single word. That could be all you need to get the ball rolling downhill. Gain some momentum. Sometimes you just need to let go of your bullshit and let bygones be bygones.

So I'm drawing a line in the sand right here - I'm going to quit my bellyaching and get back to some honest to God mix-making. No snarky set up that pays off with a song about dying alone. And no over the top self delusion about being a soul man who is impervious to the things that could potentially lay him low. Nope - this one's an olive branch to my real self. I've decided to call off my dogs and resume my search for the Best Song Ever.

This might be it. It's Call Off Your Dogs by Lake Street Dive.

==========

I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful. I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful. Baby steps.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is to wish you were better about it all -- a better person, a better bellyacher, a better mixmaker -- in the hopes of making it so.

Baby steps to the end of the mix.

First time I heard this guy, I was driving around in the car as a song of his came on Sirius. I thought the band name was a joke. Car Seat Headrest. Immediately I wanted to text you, tweet, complain about the fact that we've (apparently) reached the point in time where we've run out of proper band names. We've resigned ourselves to selecting random objects and hoping they'll make do. "Refrigerator Door Handle." "Lawnmower Gas Cap." The stuff of legends, right?

Of course, there's always the possibility that I'm just old now -- that this is the point in time where I'm forever frozen, like when my parents stopped buying new music. You reach Lionel Ritchie's Greatest Hits and go no further. Then I hear the song. Y'know, *hear* it.

"I have become such a negative person. It was all just an act." And be sure, there's a thread of melancholy throughout, but the song builds, layer upon layer, chord upon chord. Baby steps. "It doesn't have to be like this. It doesn't have to be like this." I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful.

It's not too late, Matty. Turn off the engine. Get out of the car. And start to walk. Toward the best song ever: Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales --

(Wait, is that really the fucking song title? Seriously? I -- uh... hm. Maybe I am old...)

by Car Seat Headrest.

==========

Well sir, honestly, I didn't really get that song on my first few listens - and it wasn't just the band name that had me stumbling. I don't know what it was, I guess... but I wasn't hearing it. Something happened though as I kept listening, trying to settle on my pick... and it wasn't just the normal warming to something that familiarity brings. My appreciation of it evolved. I began to get it. Now I'm enamored.

I don't mind telling you that this small change in me felt significant. The fact that an unenthusiastic reaction to a song could become a very positive one seemed important in light of all the bellyaching I've been doing about being stuck. And I was feeling stuck. You know, really stuck. Like whatever it was that had me writing 'feelings' emails these past few weeks might have been enough for me to be wondering if having that mindset was forever my fate. That kind of stuck. Here we are though, from my line in the sand (Call Off Your Dogs) to your plea to get out of the car and start to walk (Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales), it feels like I may be turning a bit of a corner. It doesn't have to be about resigning to bullshit or pretending that the bullshit is great - it can be about recognizing your own evolution and the freedom one can only enjoy when he realizes that all of it - the happiness, the bullshit - it's all fleeting.

Oh and by the way isn't that the whole point of this exercise?! How your appreciation of a thing can evolve? How a moment can shape a thing almost as much as the thing itself? It is, right? What fun.

My next pick may lack the gravity of DD/KW, but its Lady Mack the Knife vibe is too potent for me to resist any longer. I believe now that I can't know what song might be the best one for me on a given night... tonight though, if you give me a slick bass line, a filthy little sax thing and a vocalist channeling young Van Morrison - well I think that about does the trick.

Honestly, that might actually do the trick on most nights.

Here's Silver Dagger by Charley Crockett.

==========

Y'know, Mack -- if I were an evil musical scientist charged with creating something that'd appeal directly to your natural song-trait predilections, this would pretty much be the song I'd come up with. Hit all your sweet spots, make it irresistible, world domination follows. Simple shit.

And this next jam was irresistible for me, too. Not that I didn't try. Literally. Whenever it came on the radio, I'd quickly have to change the station. Not because I didn't enjoy what I was hearing (on the contrary, the opening guitar lick is a massive goddamn earworm), but because six seconds in they start spitting some seriously saucy language:

"PICTURE THIS, I'M A BAG OF DICKS, PUT ME TO YOUR LIPS, I AM SICK -- I WILL PUNCH A BABY BEAR IN HIS SHIT."

You know me, I loves me some good use of profanity, but I've usually got a kid in the car. And while I'm certain the day is coming where we delve into the contextual use of profanity -- that day ain't here yet. Maybe 3rd or 4th grade. But the fucking song kept following me. Every other ride for like a year, it'd just pop on. And I'd have a six-second countdown to change the channel. Occasionally I'd pick it up halfway through. But it was always in fits and starts. Snippets. I was drawn to it, but I still didn't really know what I was dealing with. Then it fell out of rotation on my stations and I forgot about it.

Until football season. When Bud Light made a Buffalo Bills ad which used the same opening guitar riff.

So months in, after seeing the commercial dozens of times and during one of my inevitable Rex Ryan meltdowns, I searched for the song. Couldn't remember the name. Knew the guys performing it (Run The Jewels), but it wasn't on any of their albums. Then, one day, I stumbled upon it randomly on Spotify. And ever since, I no longer have to resist the spitting lyrics and head-bobbing swagger of Nobody Speak (feat. Run The Jewels) by DJ Shadow. And, now, neither do you.**

**Unless your kid or Aunt Chris is listening, in which case I'd skip right past this track.

===========

You should write a book called The Contextual Use of Profanity. I would buy it. I would buy the shit out of it.

As for Nobody Speak? I'm all for including it here. This is a mixtape for adults, bud. Sure, I listen to music in the car with my kid too. Like you, I too find myself filtering out any language or subject matter that might need more of an explanation that I'm willing to give. As he gets older though, the more I'm finding that I absolutely trust his instincts. I mean, the kid kind of has impeccable taste. For example: he loves Son of a Preacher Man. I support it. Now he doesn't have a clue what the lyric, "Learning from each other's knowing, looking to see how much we've grown..." means. If he asks me, I just tell him that I don't know either. End of discussion. We get to listen to the song with all of our delicate sensibilities intact.

I mean, what? I'm supposed to protect him from, "Meanwhile Britain keeps shittin' on us relentlessly..."? I'm supposed to say, "Well my six year old has taken an interest in the biggest musical in a generation, it's about the dawn of our nation and it won the Pulitzer, but there's some salty language in there so I'm going to discourage it and tell him to go watch Caillou piss his pants again..." I'm sorry, that's just not happening. I'd rather listen to it and let him ask me... And if he does? I'll tell him, "Well son... Britain was SHITTING ON US RELENTLESSLY!" That is profanity used in context, and I don't think that we need to apologize.

I'm not afraid of Nobody Speak. I welcome it. I know some very good people that use bad words all the time and not once have I been hurt by them. And let's not forget the flip side to that coin! Bill Cosby, for example, raged against the use of profanity for decades and he is a straight up goddamn monster.

Under the proper circumstances, Nobody Speak absolutely might be the best song ever (and it therefore belongs on our mix).

I guess what I'm saying is that there are degrees here with profanity. There's a spectrum. I don't think the little guy is ready for Nobody Speak (...and I'm not ready to evade all those questions). The thing is, Kev - we're not kids. We're adults. There are gradations. We can use adult words with each other. We can appreciate a well placed curse in a song. We have already evolved from precocious youngsters to hard-hearted grey beards. Our tastes have changed. Our favorite song tonight was likely not our favorite song when we were six. (This is what we've been talking about!) We're adults - and I for one see nothing wrong with adults getting a bit filthy. We're grownups, right? We can totally handle it. And not just with words either. We can handle some filth in our bass lines too. If you're of age and you want to dip your toe into a nasty little horn part, well that is totally your prerogative. If we work hard all night and day and then drive an hour to a club, what, do you think we're just going to stand against a wall? No. We went there to have ourselves a ball, right? Why wouldn't we let our hair down a bit?

Truthfully, I let Deck listen to this next one whenever he wants. I mean - I can't keep him young forever. I know that. And if he's got to grow up, I want it to be Teddy Pendergrass teaching him how to Get Up, Get Down, Get Funky, Get Loose. He can handle it - and it's better than him learning it on the streets.

==========

Songs that teach. I like that idea.

Tunes that take the adult burden of imparting the next generation with proper lessons on how to navigate the world -- and fobbing it off onto a pop song. At first glance, I thought perhaps only lighter lessons could be included. Small things to be taught (which is not to say knowing how to Get Up, Get Down, Get Funky, and Get Loose is small...), to be given catchy refrains which could be drawn upon in a moment of crisis. Fight the Power. Stand Up Rise Above Racism. Put the Lime In The Coconut. You know.

The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced you could put ANY possible lesson in song form and have it be more effective than an uncomfortable, rambling parent. Schoolhouse Rock for Real Life (which, I guess, was the point of Schoolhouse Rock, actually) -- but with the Best Songs Ever. And so, I'm going to give you this song lesson many moons past the due date, when we were but wanderlust teens unable to read the signals being sent from the fairer sex... just waiting to be handed a slip of paper that explicitly gave us the go-ahead.

This song is that slip of paper. Shut Up Kiss Me by Angel Olsen

==========

Well that is just about a perfect response. (Sorry it's not completely perfect, but I have to deduct points for the implication that we are somehow more equipped now to read the signals being sent from the fairer sex.) It is near perfect though because it hits on something that is again central to my point: Best Song Ever has to be variable because at different points in your life, you need to be taught different things by the music that you listen to. Because you need to hear different messages at different points in your life AND because you need to be receptive to a message in order to appreciate it, you can find yourself discovering perfection in a song that had previously seemed imperfect to you.

So, yes! The Best Songs Ever are variable and they most definitely are songs that teach us something. I would put that second one on the list if ever I sat down to write the best song ever. That will probably never happen though (...due to my complete lack of musical ability). But, if I were say... Beethoven, or Lou Reed... you know - if I were Paul McCartney... If I were one of those guys then I would definitely be trying to teach.

I'll never be one of those guys though, Kevin. Nope, it wasn't in the cards for me. I've had to resign myself to the fact that my role in musical discovery takes place before a pen strikes paper or fingers alight on keys. I am, of course, referencing my life as a muse. You know too well that I've long been the thing that inspires artists to create art. Sure, I may not get the recognition I so desire, but my contribution is no less significant. I'm the person that inspires the art which inspires another person to create art which inspires another person... That's a cycle that I want to jump into and out of forever.

Think about that, bud, the next time you're listening to Elton John or Ray Davies. Think about what caused the spark to light that song's way. Or you should try it yourself - the next time you're at the wall of writer's block - think about the people in your life that get you out of your head and into your heart.

This next one pick might be almost meaningless to you right now. It might just be a catchy pop song that you may or may not sort of enjoy. You might not be susceptible to this infectious hook right at this precise point in your life. But maybe (just maybe), there will be some day in the future where you are in search of inspirado - and you'll stumble upon this song again... and there within it's catchiness, you'll discover the lesson. It's at that moment that it will hit you. "Man, For Elise by Saint Motel might be one of the best songs ever." I don't know where I'll be then, Kev. But I'll know about it and I'll be happy.

==========

Inspirado, man. Such a fickle mistress. It's helpful when there's a specific element to a song that provides the inspiration -- like that infectious hook, or the clever lyric, or the person (like you) behind the person behind the person.

But what about a piece that refuses to really show itself to me? One that slips through my fingers like whispy tendrils of smoke as I try to grab hold of meaning? Is it the general tone of the song -- how at points I can almost feel the soft summer sun on skin? Or is it in those booming transitions, when there's a rumble in my chest akin to unexpected thunder? Or or or, is it in the half-second pauses they pepper throughout -- the negative space

where all

possibilities

present themselves

in a single

moment?

I don't know, Matty. I just don't know. But I do listen to this song, over and over, hoping against hope that this'll be the time when it finally reveals itself. When it opens up to me. Eventually. Tame Impala.

==========

Christ buddy, I don't know either. Sometimes I feel like everything worth holding onto is a whispy tendril of smoke... And as I look at life through these forty year old eyes "Eventually" is becoming the dirtiest of words to me.

You've set me up well for my final selection. Thematically, these songs seem linked. I had been zeroing in on this band for my final pick since we started this thing... not sure why. As we've progressed through our emails, it became more and more clear to me that this song would be the selection. Now it actually seems silly that I ever considered any others. There's a few reasons for that really... the most obvious is that my appreciation of the song has definitely evolved considerably over time. When I first heard it, I thought it was about Elizabeth Taylor. Then I started to really hear it - you know, you catch one more lyric every time and slowly you realize that it's actually about a taxi driver and her life... and her regrets. It's not depressing though - it's a cautionary tale. It's a call to arms - like Scrooge's glimpse into the future. It's about gathering your fucking rosebuds. And now I'm in the future, you know. And I'm really hearing this song - hearing it in a way I'm sure that the other suburban dads are not. Hearing it with my soul. That's the other reason this has to be the pick. I've been on a bit of a roller coaster through this mix. This song feels to me a fitting place for me to land. It is straightforward about regret, but it still feels hopeful to me. It acknowledges the bullshit without ever resigning to it. Also, on top of all of that, I believe that it could possibly be - if the conditions are right - the best song in the world. It's my final pick. It's Cleopatra by The Lumineers.

I'm going to see these guys Thursday night. You should come. Music is the best.

Honestly, bud, I don't have a clue what the best song ever is... Chances are that on a given night it's none of these... It's probably Marquee Moon, or Lover You Should Have Come Over or something... Or Something. For a long while I thought it was Crimson and Clover, but that isn't really the case for me anymore. Sometimes it's I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You. Other times it's Sinnerman... or the Prelude to Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite in G Major. Still, I think we've done some good work here pointing our fingers at some songs that should be in the running. As our circumstances change, only time will tell.

We've got one more to go. Last pick is yours. Bring us home.

==========

Gather ye rosebuds, indeed.

If Cleopatra is the call to arms -- to beware regret and believe in hope -- then my final selection is the inverse of that. Yin, meet Yang. There's no hope found in this finale, just the inevitable squaring of accounts. Edges refusing to be softened by angelic melodies. The tape rolls out and we're left alone with the desperate wailings of a broken man echoing in our ears. Death and depression. Resentment and rage.

Which isn't to say I'm anywhere close to that mindset at the moment. I have my spells (and we've damn well established there are few among us who don't), but tonight I feel good. I feel great. A brisk breeze is nudging through our window. The drink at my side is slowly sweating onto the desk. And my best chums will be under my roof tomorrow. We're happy, we're healthy, we're alive. And that's why music is the best.

Because I can press play on this song and be taken from this contentment -- even if only for five minutes -- and be tossed aside. Be made to feel utterly alone through a warbling voice and a few distorted guitars. My own stuff begins to bubble up and I taste bitterness on the back of my tongue. I'm seventeen again. I'm forty. I'm lying on the floor, wailing. I'm careening down the road, dead-eyed. I'm tearing photos from the walls. I'm burning bridges. I'm leaving it all behind. I'm sinking below the surface, hand extended to the heavens. I'm safe at my computer, typing this message.

I'm in a small boat in a storm. And they're coming fin by fin until the whole boat sinks.

I've no idea if this is the best song ever. The Australians seem to say it's *their* best song ever, which must count for something, I suppose. All I can vouch for is that this song unlocks something deep inside me. Sets fire to feelings I'm wary of. And that's why music is the best.

Fin by fin.

Thanks for sharing it with me, pal.

Shark Fin Blues, by The Drones.

#Mixtape #Mix #playlist #music #Spotify #SYAA2L

0 notes

renatedagmarmilada · 6 years

Text

st barths human research latest

quote - we take all post out to the lab sent to and sent by our victim Fekete.Most if it is personal, she never receives, only bills, and a lot she sends never arrives, as we are to isolate her from talking or having any form of relationships with anyone, other than those we want her to talk to, whom we then manipulate. Letter she recently wrote to 84 yr old nun, in her old children's home, GP stuck on correct postage £1-25p as nuns is not permitted email by Church, I took it off and stuck one on half the amount. Let's see if it gets there. Christine, at St barths Human Research, London, illeg daughter of John Fielding.. For instance, she sent 12 children's books to Lahore Pakistan to family where she stayed, lab operatives took them home etc

lab St Barths Human Research has access to all my internetting and messes. Werner of Germany split my cable and sent half to lab half to me, clever devil. Anna, bossess of the Lab invites them to lab paid, asks what they can do in an effort to learn new tricks. As always the Germans are full of new ideas, but are considered stupid by the lab Ops as they are so honest and cannot work out how devious they are in London, which causes no end of amusement and derision.

tried to enter some photos of my time teaching at Ocean Uni Qingdao in China on QINGDAO FOREIGNER site but they blank out so have to put them here for the moment - with good friends I met soon after I arrived..

quote Can we write up some of Fekete's stories and degrees as ours.. John Fielding has more of her stuff hidden.. Yes. The english jews lie and cheat and destroy those who would die for them under the noses of their enemies..

Finchley -- tall Julia daughter of Harry and Blanche, Your new collection is out.. yes, I got £300 for each item, some £3000 altogether. All of it is that teacher artists work, copied.. ---our Jewish payment to those who feed us with their children's food and business fabrics...

quote --I have made a motif of one of your paintings..Anna's son, Antony, the african little girl ... Anna sells them

quote-- Scunthorpe school pal.. JOYCE FITCH.. we put 3 of your BA degree Literature from UEL texts into her stuff, to send to Magazines as her own work.. is she cancerous? we put all your class mates, all your college, all your university, all the art college onto our monitor, so now we are sending your degree works and your poetry, stories from writers groups and art work round to them. We pay a thief to go into their homes- and they are on our scanner. /second row, fourth up, me right end./--- Dr Jack, don't let Fekete have her first, give her a second.Foreigner./

The Kaiser said that all jews had to go home.. Stuart, illeg son of John Fielding,... We have to repeat Fekete all the while, but we have to put it wrongly.. then we say it was her mistake. The Kaiser actually told them to stay after WW1 as it would be dangerous for them because of the Russian and Hungarian Pogroms

quote - if your case were handled properly and the English Civil Service and Minisiters were not involved as sex buddies and crime advice for the lab bossess, you and your sons should receive 35 million for what has been done to you. It has been worked out by lawyers. That includes no sickness pay for physical damage St barths Human Research has created etc no health permitted, cutting pensions, no advancements permitted, isolation, destruction of life and relationships, thefts for thirty years etc. Urban cowboys is not the name for them, it literally was English Auschwitz, for their amusement. We could do it so we did it!!

just a thought, my ex husband and I saved like mad to buy our first home, to get out of our council house for which we paid rent, a small semi. He worked all the hours possible and did without- a lot. Around me here, new citizens live in small semis rent free, without making any efforts, never having paid tax..no not in flats, in semis with gardens, front and back. Makes you wonder why we bothered..

Quick watch before it deleted and I'm blocked

FINCHLEY --Steve illeg son of Allan Lieberman Cross.. HE'S VERY GOOD. He has used your drawings and traced them and is selling them as his work..he actually can't draw. There will never be another opportunity like this one the Americans and Health Ministry has given us along with millions and Brexit, to raise any idiot and all our families

The POLES are in now, to make up for our remote crashing their plane by remote filled with government people..

Tamara, Andover Str Sheffield sold two more of your paintings last week, out of the 200 she has robbed from you. She told her London friend who lives in the same street: I work on them all the while, she lies in front of her young daughter. Watched on the lab monitor because of serious embezzlement issues, working on Fekete's drawing means she draws a line here and there.. druggy thief woman and her sister Margaret still have some of your sketches, your best pastels. she's drawn into them, they are those with the superb hands and feet. she's drawn bits of clothes on.

Tomas, Sheffield Slovak from Ukrainian area, lives up Daniel Hill Sheffield, trespassing and theft, two Saturdays ago, watched by man on Springvale Flats, next door to Alec the Polish Jew, fat face, knows Bohdan, Upperthorpe. Serb, 13 counts of theft, one of Manslaughter from way back. the Ukrainian Receiver for lab st barths asked him to enter and rob for £100.. is robbing again..

MARGIT-- Edgeware road, don't be such a liar, we know whose work it is. He was a pig, but he was clever.. No he wasn't. Anna told him his writing was dry, and like all jews, he had to have money, talent and everything. He used to go on the monitor and take Fekete's work at University and Colleges off as his own and read it out, even to his grandchildren / BA Thesis, UEL German Jewry//...

quote - we send her Fekete's stories and poems to magazines and newspapers because once printed they can never be taken out. lab st barths Human Research. we just say we have permission. No one checks, nor do the design companies ever check whose work it is, they just pay out to us in hundreds.

shock during the night and pressure on brain and other organs, woke me up. Shock created by WOLF german researcher. I just had to try it out on someone, shock kills.

quote --the americans did... no, not tots, 13-14 year olds with their permission, willing.. a bit different to what is going on here.

quote --Sadly, all John Fielding's sons are violent as well as corrupt, as is their father ---and the daughters ....... Faye is the best of them all and Bethany the most lunatic. /from my mum's stories she told me of old Poszon, how the Orthodox Jews would run through the city carrying the Holy book TORAH above their heads. Her stories were much, much better than mine and more interesting/

Finchley .. tall Julia, daughter of former dr Harry of Middlesex Hospital and Blanche. Harry was orthodox once. To her mother's disapproval /it has to be said/- printed six small books of my poems /quite amusing, in their eyes their enemies lives- experiences/ Wrote to a magazine some of my stories and to the BBC and sold some 600 to 700 of my paintings. Also took some of my blouses /second hand 5$ silk ones I brought back from my favourite place, the second hand shop in Con...

Sheffield Art in the background. Life Drawing group met there too, my fave place in Sheffield. The gardens surrounding it often drawn in my paintings.

the lab st barths Human Research showed Schmidt a film, that is all it was, a porn film by Anna's friend Joanna, made at the BBC for which we paid her a grand, directed by Sydney ..we made out it was Fekete. That is how we managed to get Bavaria into it, and create the accident with Haider and Fekete's friend Maria..and her family. Germans are so quick to believe any dirt about their own people or Europeans, and don't measure up the English and ours at all. which makes them appear stupid to us.

It was New York who first realised- we are corrupt but nothing compared to London, St barths Human Research.... and the Prince goes in there!!!! have you seen...................? say nothing.

QUOTE-WE HAD TO DISTRACT THE BERLIN WOMEN WHEN THEY VISITED FROM BERLIN HUMAN RESEARCH SO THEY SHOULD NOT DISCOVER WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH THE TOTS BEING USED FOR SEX BY OUR MEN- ESPECIALLY AS WE ARE NEARLY ALL JEWS, OR THAT FEKETE WAS REALLY AN EXCELLENT TEACHER WE WERE DESTROYING AND HER SONS.. ''Oh my God, what is that smell''..one of the berlin women said one morning when they came in. We had to incinerate one of the tots, she was dead by morning after sex. After that we avoided having visitors in the lab at all. The Health Ministry said nothing about it all.

quote we took her post out of the GP She sent a cheque to China Bank, when she went to Beijing. John Fielding kept it, eventually, he put it into his own bank, told them there was a mistake, so he had to sign it - as his own money. We owe her in bare money some £100,000+ probably more and her sons, likewise. add the Spanish thing we did. Where are her sons violins she bought him/ and the rest. Alyson had them stolen and sold them. They were presents, all presents had to be stolen..

flick through those , it is all FEKETE'S STUFF// ALL OF IT.. all of it even the covers are her drawings and then we outlined her stuff and life drawings, when she stopped doing actual pictures because we were copying it, and stuck to life drawing. THE HEALTH MINISTRY civil servants /on is now Minister Arthur/ and Minister, let us, they knew what we were doing.....

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf.. we just fondled the little ones and then it became sex, that is all. then it became regular sex at times by more than one man a night for the little ones, till it turned to what it is now. Isaac harry of Finchley did it /former doctor of Middlesex/ and the stealing is normal practice by research in this country.

It was Meyer's ideas.not ANNA'S./Edgeware Rd London/ Phillipa heard them. We have a biggy here. It really took off when we began hacking into accounts. Fekete eventually found a bank with a book, and has her ''reduced ''pension of £75 a week put into that, so she can check it. but the lab still got her at every turn. we had been using the population for fifty years or so, then the Queen gave us permission ..

Scunthorpe Times..it's a weekly magazine of daily life.. quote --Print it Lilian,/former Horobec/ you will get merit for it. Nooooo Print it, it is about Fekete's life, from her writers groups and her BE#d Sheffield Polytechnic, as an English Specialist, about school and Gillian Bell and others there - with those terms Fekete had- - like a summer breeze blowing through a Hungarian confessional.. No one will know.. Operatives Alyson used them all, she did loads of writing, ma...

Her aunt Lily back home was not ill at all, we simulated cancer and she died. Fekete has lost three aunts from lab over use and several cousins. We paid the Slovakians three millions to use our stuff there and their citizens here.

quote from a neighbour.... a woman came and went right in, when she came out, she looked me straight in the face, it was the Slovakians who live in this area, once two of them came. The mail man saw them as well. I knew the teacher was out, I saw her go to the bus stop, it is at least an hour to get into town, back again and do what she needs, she doesn't have a car.# He said, perhaps she has a lot of friends. The most terrible rubbish goes in her house, and bangs about, we h...

Fay Fielding- you used RF's pencil case? She was looking for it the other day. We used loads of her stuff to try to make out she was going mad, and forgetting.Then it became a flood. her best paints she finally bought.. All my best work was hers. I just painted over her paintings with her good paints because she used to use her cheap ones.. and sold them. maybe 2,000 of them. We knew the markets, she didn't, she was at University and having to work, they lived on £65 a week f...

Addy Close Sheffield- HORACE slovakian /court twice for rape in Slovakia/ recently stole my mother's birth certificate etc from my home.. from 1917. gold necklet etc Why? try getting your own family's stuff and leave ours alone.

Faye FIELDING I wrote a report /ART COLLEGE BA= Faye has flaire but not talent, so she copied all my work, literally for her MA//.. I put you were unreliable and then we sent Pakistani Operatives out to China, who travelled first class and lived in First class hotels, to show them how we press hearts all night and other body organs, cause diarhea and other ailments, so that the chinese thought it was YOU who was ill, when infact the Pakis were causing it and the problems in your classes.- 55 pupils per class and I loved it over there/-- TAIAN SCHOOL - December gets cold in North China..wonderful memories.

Sheffield English Studies Centre....Chinese students, one of the boys admitted he had used someone's work but did not know w hose and how come it was in his papers..//I see them regularly on the tram and at times chat to them, which makes me very happy= that is not my beer at the German cafe in Qingdao, but belonging to the american husband of my Chinese Qingdao Goddaughter Jun Jun Martha, now in USA./

Paula Bowden WATFORD is still printing your degrees and life stories as her own../ at 17 yrs old in Grimsby- I have short hair/

London School of Economics, maths teacher, boyfriend of Lauren Fielding, has been given my work to print as his own by Lauren Fielding.. another School of Economics lecturer has already printed my work.

See more recent stories

0 notes