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babiesdreams · 5 months

Note

Heyyy would you consider doing a Hyunjin reaction to finding out the reader, his gf/crush, attempted suicide in the past after experiencing SA

Scarred for life- Hwang Hyunjin.

HUGE TRIGGER WARNING: The content will be graphic and it will refer to sensitive matters such as suicide, Sexual assault and depression, if you're specially sensible to this content I recomend you don't read it. However I know how much it can help to those struggling with mental health to view their issues reflected in art, so I hope this helps you cope with it.

You take a deep breath. The water had been rising for a while now, it gets to cover your whole body, cleaning every inch of you. It's hard to simply move on from days like this. What are you supposed to do when you know his fingerprints are still fresh on your skin? You've cleaned it once, and twice, by this point your skin was sore, yet you could still feel it. You could still smell the distinctive perfume invading you, his breath against your neck and your wrists tired of trying to escape his grip.

You turn off the water. Letting it sit like a pool of memories. One that you're unable to escape from. You see your reflection on the shower head. Funny, how it distorts your face yet your own vision of yourself is so fucked up that it seems more real than what the mirror reflects. Tears fall down your eyes but you smile. You smile at your reflection as if you were smiling at him, or maybe smiling to a crowd, making sure nobody notices just how broken your soul is.

You close your eyes, all you can see is his face, all you can hear are his moans, his words, his dirty fucking words. Anger emergues through your body, like hot blood running through your veins. Rage, that's it. Rage, but not towards him, towards yourself. Why didn't you try harder? Why didn't you run? Why did you let yourself get there? Why just why? You did this to yourself, that's what they say.

You open your eyes and grab the razor blade. Now your mind is invaded with those anatomy book pages. You remembered the major veins and where they were located. And then, you proceeded. Your skin was soft. Probably because of the hot water, but maybe, because it was meant to be easy. You place the blade against your thigh skin. Your mind resticts your strength, only allowing a superficial cut.

But you go in again, this time pressing against your skin, it breaks as the blade passes through it. Blood comes out, like a chocolate coulant. It spreads, your skin. You drop the blade. Your head feels light, like if it was a dream.

You hear the door open, but you can't bring yourself to react. "Y/N" a scream makes you sort of come back, though it still feels dreamy in some way. "Oh my god. No" The boy's figure steps closer to your body. "No, no, no, no" You see his hands on his head trying to act as fast as he can. You can hear him calling 911. He checks your pulse, your cut.

At some point you feel your body levitating, getting closer to the ceiling. Then you feel his hands on your back and knees, lifting you up and putting you down on the floor. He gets towels. Bright white towels that get poisoned with your red blood, as he tries to stop the bleeding. "You're gonna be fine" You hear him say, though you're not sure if he's talking to you or himself. Then, your head gets even lighter and you finally faint.

Eventhough you can't really think you wish that they won't be able to save your life.

Hyunjin had been the loose end of your plan. You weren't used to have roomates, but since he needed a place to crash in for the week you couldn't deny it. After all you knew him since your were kids and there was something tragic in the way he had seen the cruel consequences of time hitting you.

It was hard to believe there were people that actually saw you smile and laugh genuinely. It seemed so distant, so... imposible. Yet he had seen it. He must have been surprised, shocked even. He didn't know about the incident as they liked to call it. And for sure your family had made an incredible effort to cover any sign of your mental health issues.

You open your eyes slowly. Tears fall down your cheeks instantly. You curse yourself for not dying. Your eyes lay on hyunjin's figure, he's horrified. "You are awake" He comments looking away. You smile at him. "I'm fine" You lie.

"Fine?" He shouts. "This" He says pointing at you. "This is fine to you?" You look the other way, to face the window, hoping you can get lost in the sky instead of hearing him. "Are you gonna act like it never happened?" He shouts, clearly angry. "It's easier that way" You whisper.

The hospital room wraps you on white, which, from a different perspective could be even pretty. "What did you say?" He screams. "It's easier? Look at me!" You turn your head again, facing him. He shows you his hands, covered in your own blood. "You think I can forget about this?!" You look at the ceiling. "Maybe you need therapy" You comment.

He chuckles. "Is this your way to cope with this? Joking?" You simply nod. "Well I'm not going until you explain" He says. His words make you sigh. It's so tiring going through a deep and detailed description of what happened. "I grabbed a blade and I applied pressure on my thigh" You say looking at him. "Happy?" You ask, he rolls his eyes at you and sits on the chair close to your bed.

He stays silent. You plot whether he knows how silent is louder than any sound. He probably does. "Last year" You start, still looking at the white ceiling. "I was sexually abused by a classmate" Tears start falling down your eyes again, though your voice remains emotionless.

"I can't wipe off the feeling of his dirty hands all over me. It haunts me. So I started scratching out the skin that he touched. Then cutting it. But now..." You sigh. "I can't live in this skin anymore. I'm too tired" He nods. "Why didn't you tell me?" His voice is filled with contained rage, you are familiar to how that sounds like.

"Why would you care?" You comment looking into his eyes. "I care more than you think" He simply comments. You chuckle. "I told you I'm not ready for love" You say, recalling the memory of his confession a couple of days ago. It felt almost too childish to think about crushes and love.

"And I understand why now" He says. "But loving you is not as selfish as asking you to date me. It's taking care of you when you need it. It can imply to collect the broken pieces of your heart and sew them back together myself" You chuckle. "You can't do that"

"I made you smile" He points out. "That's enough for me, at least for now. I'll help you find happiness so you can find yourself again" You roll your eyes "I don't think I would like me if I met me" He grabs your hand inside his. "I'll present her to you. Maybe we can all have dinner together. But not sushi, she hates it" You laugh lightly at his comment, somehow he created a genuine moment of happiness in your drowned heart.

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Masterlist

#kpop #kpop imagine #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #stray kids reactions #hyunjin angst #hyunjin #kpop angst #angst kpop #angst fic #angst fanfic #mental health #depressing shit

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 11 months

Text

𓅨 Shifting Wings: Chapter Eight

Shifting Wings: Before the Raven Matthew, there was Jessamy, and Jessamy came with a little sister by the name of Adrienne. Dream adores his two little Ravens, but after over a hundred years of imprisonment and the death of Jessamy, Dream will find that he has not just lost his companion, but his beloved little Raven Adrienne no longer brightens the halls of his Palace. None of his staff wish to speak of where the Raven has gone, but the silent new resident of the palace is cause for question. After all, she was the one who aided in his release. If none of his subjects would help him find Adrienne, perhaps she could lead him to the whereabouts of the missing Raven. If only the woman wasn’t so flighty and hard to track down.

Warnings: Angst, Foreshadowing.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x FemaleRaven!Reader, NAMED Reader (I like the name).

Word Count: ~2.3k

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Your fingers were smeared with charcoal as you furiously sculpted Lord Morpheus’s face upon your sketchbook page. With his image and likeness freshly ingrained within you mind, you were fervently drawing him in crystal clear detail with dark strokes of black and a shimmering cobalt blue that made his eyes come to life on your drawings. You didn’t understand why you felt this compulsive need to sketch him, to keep him in your memory. It was like he mattered to you. A silly notion. He mattered to the Dreaming, but to you personally? Surely you had gotten over your silly little crush on him by now.

The charcoal scratched across the page a few more strokes before you drew back your hand and stared at it. It was trembling. You glared at your limb in distaste and tightened your grasp on the charcoal. Surely you had more control over your body than this! You ground your teeth together, focusing on that needless tremble that you should not have. Perhaps it was a residual expression of your once feelings for the Endless being. How irritatingly needless.

“Cease this needless reaction,” You softly growled, clutching the charcoal tighter. It snapped and the two pieces fell to the floor of your tiny room. Staring at the broken charcoal, your eyebrow arched and you looked at your sketch once more. Lord Morpheus was beautifully sketched, his eyes vibrant with the stars that shone within, and Jessamy was perched on his shoulder… infinitely beautiful and stoic. The perfect raven. “You were always the better raven and sister, Jessamy,” You spoke before tearing the sketch from your notebook and setting it down in the pile of your other sketches, ignorant to the charcoal fingerprint you had left behind.

Standing in the middle of your closet turned bedroom, you looked around at the multitude of sketches you had up. It was, perhaps, obsessive of you to have nearly hundreds of sketches of Jessamy… both in her mortal form and raven form— and yet you couldn’t always control the compulsive urge to sketch her. You merely assumed that it was a side effect of your repressed emotions and shrugged it off. As long as you couldn’t feel the agonizing hurt of her death, you didn’t care what you spent your time doing.

You departed your room and crossed the space of your art studio, heading out to find Mervyn and hopefully, have something to do.

Lucienne had been out walking the sand dunes while you and Mervyn worked on clearing up yet another crumbling part of the palace. You and he kept the grounds meticulously clean from dust and debris, but that didn’t the palace looked any better at a glance. It still looked condemned, abandoned, faded with time. At times it became suffocating so she took walks… but this walk was different than the thousands before it. No, Lucienne could have sworn that she saw the familiar form of her lord, laying in a dune but a few hundred yards away.

So she ran. As fast as she could through the blackened sand until she could confirm with her own eyes that Lord Morpheus had indeed returned to the Dreaming.

“Sir! Sir!” She called out, hurrying to his side and crouching down. Lucienne scanned him for injury while rolling him onto his back. “Oh my goodness.” She breathed out, hardly able to comprehend what she was seeing, feeling. “Sir?” She asked as Morpheus stirred. “Sir, it’s me,” Lucienne reached for his hand as he looked at her. “It’s Lucienne.”

Morpheus gasped and coughed, still feeling utterly drained of his power.

“Lucienne,” He rasped weakly, holding onto her hand. He couldn’t hold back the relieving smile of finally being free and home.

“You’re home, my lord.” She said, feeling her own relief washing through her body. Morpheus was home, the Dreaming could finally heal, and you, Morpheus’s beloved raven that had withered to an empty shell, could finally begin to heal.

“I am,” Morpheus spoke as Lucienne helped him to his feet. The Morpheus took stock of his surroundings. He was beyond the ivory gates, beyond the walls of the glimmering city and palace. It was dead and desolate, there, empty. He was eager to open his gates and view his home once more.

Morpheus placed his palm on the Ivory Gates, feeling their warm and comforting hum of magic, his magic. It was nice to feel that touch once more. The gates began to part, rumbling and groaning from disuse.

“Forgive me, sir, but…” Lucienne didn’t know how to tell Morpheus that his kingdom had crumbled to dust and ruin while he was away. Morpheus stared at her with questions in his eyes. “…the palace, the village” Lucienne sighed. “They are not as you left them.” The gate continued to move, revealing the desolation of Morpheus’s kingdom and palace.

All that remained were bare trees, long since dead, and skeletons of what used to be an extraordinary palace. The bridge connecting the town was crumbled and no longer usable, the lake that surrounded the once grandiose building was almost dried up and wind whistled, stirring up dust and sand. Morpheus was overwhelmed at the destruction his home, wondering what could have caused this kind of ruin. Where were his people? Where were his creations? His Dreams? His Nightmares? Where was Adrienne!?

“What happened here?” He asked, his voice strained with barely contained emotional devastation. “Who did this?”

In the distance a tower crumbled and fell to ruins below. More work for Blanche and Mervyn to clean up. Lucienne cleared her throat.

“My lord, you are The Dreaming,” She explained, regretting the knowledge that for Morpheus to know what had caused ruin to reign in his kingdom, was his absence. “The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to… decay and crumble.”

“And the residents?” Morpheus questioned, his very being aching with physical pain. “The palace staff? Adrienne?” Lucienne bit her tongue at the mention of you, for with Morpheus’s return, he was sure to eventually find what you had done. You could change your appearance and name, but you were the beloved of Dream of the Endless, he would find you.

“I’m afraid most have gone.” Lucienne answered, wincing on the inside in fear of her lord’s reaction.

“Gone?” Morpheus repeated in disbelief.

“Some went looking for you…” Lucienne trailed off, dropping her eyes to the rocky ground.

“And the rest? Where did they go? Where did Adrienne go? Where is she?”

“The others thought, perhaps, you’d grown weary of your duties, as for Adrienne, she—” Lucienne cut off, not knowing how to explain you. Morpheus would take nothing but the truth of your whereabouts. “She remains, my lord, but does not spend her time in the company of others. She chooses solitude.”

“So the others think that I chose to abandon them?” Morpheus questioned in disbelief. “Adrienne believes that I willingly abandoned her, broke my promise and left her without word?” Betrayal was flashing across his face as his eyes burned with tears. “Had they so little faith in me? Did Adrienne believe that I would willingly abandon her with so little thought!?”

“Adrienne’s faith in you has not wavered in the one hundred and six years you’ve been gone,” Lucienne corrected Morpheus. “Do not question her loyalty and lo—” Lucienne paused. Yes, you were loyal to Morpheus, but only as a subject and raven now. The love you had for him you exchanged for a mortal body and the ability to search for him. Yes, Morpheus would not take kindly to hearing that you no longer held the capability of loving him. “She is loyal to Dream of the Endless,” Lucienne carefully replied. “And she is dedicated to being your raven, it is perhaps her deepest fault, she will die for you should it come to that.”

Morpheus flinched. Jessamy had already done so, he couldn’t bear the thought that you would make that a repeated event. Jessamy had been a dear friend and loyal subject. Adrienne was the one whom he loved with everything he had. He would not lose both of you.

“Adrienne, under no circumstances,” Morpheus said, his voice darkening with seriousness. “Is to ever risk her life for me. I forbid it.” Once again Lucienne held her tongue, for Morpheus had no idea what you had become. The only way you would ever accept those words is if Morpheus gave you a direct order. But he couldn’t do that if he didn’t even know he was speaking to you. Morpheus turned back to his decimated kingdom. “I made this realm once, Lucienne, I will make it again.”

Lord Morpheus had returned. You knew that much as you cleaned up the latest rubble pile of the palace. Lucienne had been out on her walk beyond the wall when she had found him. You were pleased that Lord Morpheus had made it back on his own. While you had left the water spicket open, you weren’t entirely sure how long it would take for the magic circle to be broken. Even then you weren’t sure how much power he had left, and didn’t know if he could even get himself back to the Dreaming.

But he had and was now touring the ruin and destruction of his palace while you and Mervyn worked with the Wyvern to clean up what you could. Without his tools and much of his power, Lord Morpheus would not be able to return the realm to its natural beauty. It was merely a waiting game. Sweeping dust and rubble, you glanced up when Mervyn lumbered over to you.

“Just got word, Loosh wants you to pull a few books from what we have, she and Morpheus are working on solving our ruin problem.” You stopped sweeping and raised an eyebrow.

“And how are books to help with that?” You asked cynically. “His power resides within his tools, nothing shall change until he regains them.” Mervyn shrugged at your words.

“Hell if I know, kid, I’ll take over sweeping, run along before Loosh barges over here and starts snapping out orders.” You inclined your head and passed the broom to Mervyn before picking your way across the mostly clear courtyard. Most of the library was already gone, had been for a while, but a few books remained. You weren’t sure what Lucienne wanted from them since it was Lord Morpheus’s tools that he needed, but you knew which books she was going to want.

You fluttered your way to what was left of the library, a mere single bookshelf of only about eight books. You plucked the volume that Lucienne was going to want and held it against your chest. Striding through dilapidated halls, your face remained blank as the subtle and smooth voice of your lord reached your ears. It was as dulcet as you remembered, intense in a way that drew those listening in. You had liked listening to it, had liked it when he read to you. Emerging from a crumbling alcove, you strode over to Lucienne with purpose, ignoring the moping Endless sitting on the ruins of the spiral staircase that once led to his throne and your old perch.

“The book you requested,” You explained, offering Lucienne the heavy leather book while Morpheus stared at you, his eyes focused on the streak of white at your temple. His thoughts of his ruined kingdom shifted to you, the woman who he was certain, had intentionally left the water spicket open just enough to break the binding circle.

“Ah, thank you, Blanche,” Lucienne said, taking the book and opening it immediately.

“If that is all,” You said, taking a step back to leave.

“Will you not stay?” Lucienne probed you, searching your eyes for some semblance of your old self who would have been all over Morpheus the moment he returned. Nothing. You were about to respond when the sound of another piece of the palace breaking off and hitting the ground echoed throughout the throne room. Your head titled to the side.

“I’m afraid I’ve just become quite busy,” You answered flatly before inclining your head. “My apologies, Lucienne.” You then gave your lord a head bow. “Lord Morpheus.” With that you turned on your heel and strode away, planning on finding another broom to clean up the palace’s latest mess.

The moment Blanche departed the throne room, Morpheus was turning his gaze back to his librarian.

“Lucienne, who was that?” He asked, his sharp blue eyes, still ringed with red, observing her closely. “This is the first time I recall seeing her within my domain.” Lucienne cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses.

“That, sir, is Blanche,” Lucienne explained, feeling troubled about lying by omission to her lord, but wanting to respect your wishes for your previous life and name, to remain dead. “You need not worry about her or her loyalty, she has chosen to remain when others have left.”

Morpheus examined Lucienne, she clearly trusted you… but Morpheus was still wary. Very wary.

“She has no empathy, Lucienne, and yet you say she poses no threat to us or our kingdom.” The Endless pointed out.

“Blanche has remained here faithfully, for the last one hundred and six years, helping Mervyn maintain the palace as best as they could when others have left. Yes, she does not feel, but her loyalty to this realm and to you, is unwavering.” Morpheus took in that information. Surely he would have noticed one so loyal as Blanche, certainly with her hair color so remarkably similar to Jessamy and Adrienne’s feathering.

“She was the one who aided in my escape,” Morpheus commented, thinking Blanche over further. “One who I do not know, aided me when my own people could not.”

Lucienne’s heart was breaking within her chest, for all she wanted was to blurt out who Blanche really was, and how Adrienne had done everything she could to find Morpheus and return him home… and she had. She wanted to tell her lord that the one he loved had been relentless in her search for him, and had not stopped until she found him. But how could Lucienne tell Morpheus that the woman whom he loved, could no longer love him back?

Date Published: 6/21/23

Last Edit: 6/21/23

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#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #sandman x reader #lord morpheus #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #dream the endless #morpheus #the sandman

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twogyuu · 1 year

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We Can Just Dance to This

Pairing: Lee Chan x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff(?), angst(?), dirty dancing!au, summer love, good girl gone bad(but Chan's not a bad guy?)

Warnings: I mean . . . it's a dirty dancing!au so mildly suggestive but no explicit smut

WC: ~1.7k

A/N: This has been sitting in the WIP pile for who knows how long and the thousands of bulletpoints I added to this document went nowhere 😀

Originally inspired by the movie, Dirty Dancing and Dance To This by Troye Sivan ft. Ariana Grande. Happy reading 💙

. . . .

He didn’t belong in this town.

He didn’t belong in this family resort.

This wasn’t the dance studio he dreamed of: a musty cabin built over thirty years ago tucked away on a hill in the woods. The interior was redesigned to mimic a poor excuse of a studio. Mirrors lined one wall, though over the years they were stained with oily fingerprints from the young children of the guests who came by for lessons. The large screen windows revealed too much of the intimacy and vulnerability that came with the art. Dirt tracked from climbing the dusty stone stairs filled the grit of the floor tiles and flies were starting to get stuck in the bright overhead lights above. It was a shame that the resort was most popular in the summer – the age old fan hardly cooled anyone off these days.

Lee Chan did, however, belong on the dance floor.

He deserved to be in the spotlight on some big stage in LA or New York City.

Somewhere, along side a pop star or shining under the spotlight himself.

You decided this was certain as you watched him expertly move his body to the Normani’s ‘Motivation’ from the corner of the resort dance studio. It was almost as if the music emanated from his core and flowed through his limbs to his finger tips. You were in utter awe of how he paid attention to every detail of his move, from the way his feet were positioned in a perfect crisscross to the point of his fingers.

“It lasts longer if you take a picture,” Chan chuckled breathlessly as he made his way towards you. He kneeled and settled in a spot in front of you.

You were so lost in him, you didn’t even notice the change in pace of the song – an entirely new one playing at that. You ignored the way your cheeks heated up, handing him over a water bottle that he hastily gulped down. You tucked your knees into your chest, resting your chin atop them as you peered at him quietly. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face. You didn’t want to, but you did take note of the way his veins bulge along his arms.

“You’re good,” you mumbled.

He stopped mid-drink and side eyed you, frowning. “You’ve been watching all this time and it’s just good?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “It’s not like I know much about dance . . . you looked skilled?”

Silence, then a beat.

Chan leaned forward on his hands, his head tilted slightly and a playful smile tugging at the right corner of his lip.

“What are we gonna do with you, baby?” he teased in a low voice. You could feel his breath grazing across your cheek.

You froze.

Baby.

The nickname felt different coming from him.

You didn’t know how to reply, so you didn’t, simply shrinking back.

He stayed like this a while longer; you, internally squirming under his gaze. You hoped your demeanor was stoic and didn’t show the way a simple lazy look from him could stir so much in you.

After a moment, Chan slid back. He gave you one last look before getting up and making his way to the speaker set up. He swiped at his phone connected to by the AUX cord, ceasing Jason Derulo’s falsetto in ‘Want To Want Me’, replacing it with the electronic piano of ‘Versace on the Floor’ by Bruno Mars.

You furrowed your brows in confusion as he sauntered over, one hand tucked in the pocket of his baggy sweatpants that hung loosely around his hips. His smile had spread into a grin as the strumming of the guitar and percussion began.

Chan extended a hand in your direction. Dumbfounded, your gaze flickering from his hand to his face and back.

“Dance with me,” he asked. “Let’s see what you can do.”

The longer you hesitated, his confidence began to falter like a middle school boy being rejected by his crush. Chan gulped as he felt his throat constrict – the last thing he wanted to do was make things awkward between you and him. After all, you had to see each other all summer and there weren’t many places to hide around here. Even if he hadn’t danced with you yet, he could’ve sworn, there was chemistry, at the very least a spark between you and him. You wouldn’t be here otherwise, right?

Finally, you gingerly placed your hand in his and pushed yourself off the floor. He released a small breath of relief, eyes examining your fingers settled in his. He chortled softly at your baby pink painted nails – chipped and outgrown. It was fitting for you for some reason.

“I don’t actually know what to do,” you said anxiously.

“Wait,” Chan held out a hand to you.

Great – you already fucked up and you haven’t even started.

“You should take off your sneakers,” he pointed at them.

“Why?”

“So you don’t step on my feet,” he peered down at his sock-covered toes.

“Fair, I guess.”

“Relax,” he told you, noting how stiff you were. Chan led you to the center and positioned your hands: one on his shoulder, the other resting his own hand. “Just follow along, hm?”

“Easier said than done,” you grumbled.

The hairs along your spine pricked up when you felt the warmth of his hand settle on the small of your back.

“We’ll start with a simple square waltz,” Chan explained. “I step back, you step forward, then to the right – so on and so forth to make a square.”

You looked up, trying your best to memorize the steps.

The first few times, you stumbled. He was right to make you take off your shoes. Even looking at your feet, you stepped on his toes a few times, apologizing profusely, while the dancer just laughed and reassured you.

“Relax,” Chan said again, “Feel the music and move with it. Let it guide you.”

You peered up from the ground and caught his gaze, his eyes amused and warm. He nodded at you encouragingly and stepped forward. Instinctively, you stepped back.

“Good,” he chuckled.

After a few rectangles and triangles, you were finally starting to get the hang of it. Though the Bruno Mars song had faded into ‘Night Changes’ by One Direction, you were able to keep up with the faster beat. A feeling of accomplishment filled your chest at this, eliciting an excited smile on your face.

“Cute,” Chan said softly.

You looked at him in surprise.

“What?” he asked teasingly.

“Nothing,” you muttered. You looked behind him, met with the reflection of you and him moving in sync in the mirror. The steps were simple, but you with him . . . looked right.

Feeling something funny in your chest, you looked out through the screen windows, clearing your throat loudly.

“Didn’t take you for a Directioner?” you commented.

“It’s a nice song,” Chan offered. You shivered at the way his lips grazed against your ear.

“Noted – Lee Chan, directioner.”

He rolled his eyes, chortling at the tease.

“Wanna take this a step further?” Chan challenged.

“Is this payback for making fun of you?”

“You could say so,” he shrugged, pulling back to look at you. “I’ll spin you and then twirl you out.”

“Don’t let go?” you said immediately. The irrational fear of him letting you go and the momentum of the spin taking you crashing into something overtaking you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chan didn’t warn you, letting go of your waist and raising his hand for you to rotate under. The rest was a blur, the room turning white as the colors mixed together and you felt your forearms stretch.

Before you knew it, you were enveloped back in his arms – though closer than before, your chests flushed against one another. You could feel the rise and fall of his every breath; perhaps even the beat of his heart, and it was fast. The music seemed to have faded and it was only the mix of his and your heavy breathing.

If his eyes were warm before, they were swarming with something else now – you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Curiosity overtaking you, you reached up and swept his bangs out of his eyes, fingers lingering in his locks to no avail. His dark orbs scanned over your face, flickering from your own eyes to your lips. He looked a little too long – enough for you to know what was on his mind as much as your own.

You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, his other gripping around your waist. The press of each finger seeping warmth into your skin, though this time, you were less anxious as you were lost in him.

In fact, you almost welcomed it.

Chan leaned in, hesitantly pressing his lips against your own plush ones as if to test the water first. When you kissed back, you could feel him relax, almost falling into you as you stumbled back to steady yourself and him. He smiled into the kiss, his hand coming up to adjust your neck for better access to your lips.

The seconds melted into minutes, minutes suddenly into infinite.

When you felt him pull away, you opened your eyes slowly, one after another. Chan breathing shallowly, a silly, tight smile stretched across his face as he tried to hold in his laughter.

He wasn’t laughing at you, but rather out of joy.

Lips swollen, you sucked in your bottom lip in between your teeth, a faint taste of his mint gum lingering.

“You’re not completely hopeless,” he muttered, breaking the silence in an attempt to tease you. However, it didn’t feel as such.

You scoffed and pressed a hand against his chest, silently asking him to let you go after ruining the moment.

But he didn’t.

In fact, he only pulled you closer.

How about it, baby?” Chan asked. “Help me out for the summer?”

You looked back at him.

Playfulness?

Maybe that’s what it was in his eyes – or lust?

“I . . . don’t see why not.”

You were interested, to say the least, and for once, you wanted to take the leap of faith.

Take a chance on him.

Take a chance on yourself.

Perhaps, you could become something more than the sweet and obedient 'baby' everyone else knew and adored.

#lee chan x reader #dino x reader #lee chan scenarios #dino scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #lee chan #svt dino

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literaticat · 5 months

Note

Do you have a dream project you'd like to work on that you haven't found yet?

Not really? I guess I don't really have anything that I'm looking for -- like there aren't any holes in my list I'm looking to fill or anything like that -- I'm open to being surprised!

Right now I am VERY INTO nonfiction. Particularly gripping, immersive MG/YA narrative nonfiction that makes me go "whoa WHAT??? Are you KIDDING me rn???" And makes me want to run around and tell EVERYONE about the crazy ass shit I just found out about!

For example: MOST DANGEROUS: Daniel Ellsberg and the Secret History of the Vietnam War by Steve Sheinkin, which is about Daniel Ellsberg, the whistleblower behind the Pentagon Papers, and covers the Vietnam War and the Watergate scandal, neither of which I was alive for, nor did we ever get to in History class in my 16+ years of school. So while I'd heard of all this stuff, and kinda-sorta knew about it vaguely, I definitely didn't really KNOW-know anything about it, and it's EFFING WILD, actually.

Or: THE MONA LISA VANISHES: A Legendary Painter, a Shocking Heist, and the Birth of a Global Celebrity by Nicholas Day, which is what it says on the tin, about the heist of the Mona Lisa -- which just so happened to take place in 1911, when a wire was able to connect all the newspapers around the world WITH good quality images for the first time. So this relatively obscure painting became an overnight media sensation and everyone in the whole world knew what it looked like and was searching for it -- and the police were so far up their own asses that they ignored the actual culprit (who had means, motivation, NO ALIBI, AND he left his fingerprints all over the place, AND they interviewed him AT HIS HOUSE, like three feet away from the ACTUAL Mona Lisa!!!), because they were like "meh, this is just a workman, it has to be somebody glamorous to pull off this impossible crime!" It changed the way police detective work is done, it changed the way media reports on crimes, and it made the Mona Lisa into the most recognizable painting in the world, and the Louvre the most famous museum. A real roller-coaster ride of a story!

OH and I just listened to THE ART THIEF: A True Story of Love, Crime and a Dangerous Obsession by Michael Finkel, which is technically a book for adults though it could easily be of interest to teens as well -- which is about the most prolific art thief in the world, who stole OVER A BILLION DOLLARS (???!!!!) worth of artwork over the course of his international crime spree in the 1990s, never with violence, never breaking into places, just a kid in his 20’s who took stuff from museums in broad daylight in front of guards and patrons, put them under his coat and walked out the door, just because he thought they were beautiful objects, never selling a piece (which is why he didn't get caught for years and years, because usually the only way they catch an art thief is when they try to sell the work!) -- why this guy is not a household name is beyond me, this story has EVERYTHING.

So... I dunno, maybe a book kinda like that, but about something else I don't know about and is rad? ???

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4rainynite · 1 year

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EAH Dorm Rooms Headcanon 7

Cedar & Cerise

Two righteous and creative Rebels coming up!

Cedar and Cerise are Rebels due to despite both having a "happily ever after", Cedar believes in and choice and knows most don't want to follow the road laid out for them, and Cerise is living proof that Headmaster Grimm's rules are nothing but a pile of lies. Both girls want to be true to themselves, making them perfect roommates.

Both girls found creative ways to express themselves, Cedar through her artwork and Cerise through sports. But, Cedar has participated in swimming activities in the books and Cerise loves to bake on her free times. So both teach each other a new thing about their hobby (they should've had Cedar painting with Cerise in the above image).

When Cerise and Cedar were getting fairest those were the only times we saw their rooms, layout of their dorm seems similiar to Lizzie and Duchess's. After rereading the books, I did get an idea of what their dorms may look like.

Cedar's side: Despite being the next Pinocchio Cedar can't lie. As an artist she uses her crafts to express herself.

This is the only image of Cedar's side we ever got in the show. Cedar appears to have a canopy bed and a double vanity that she lets Cerise use.

In the books Cedar is usual covered in paints fromher projects so it wouldn't surprise me if her walls, floor, and furniture had little paint fingerprints on them.

I can see Cedar bringing her own furniture from home or painting over the ones she's got from throne furnishing or thrift stores. Everything has a woody texture or has wood designs on it.

Cedar loves to paint, sketch, puppetry, etc. So, she most likely keeps her art supplies in her room. In the books it said she had a paint box where she keeps her paints and an easel.

Also, seeing how Cedar is a puppet her paints, sandpaper, and etc count as her beauty supplies.

Apperently, Cedar (and Blondie) were supposed to have jewelry boxes like Apple and Raven but were never made. It’s very artsy and it's a shame it was never made.

I can see Cedar framing her artwork on her side of the dorm. Having polaroid pictures of her family, friends, and etc hanging on acorn-shaped fairy lights. And a trash can full of sawdust from her projects and herself.

Cerise's side: As the future Red Riding Hood (and Big Bad Wolf), Cerise has two sides to her that are rarely shown, except to the people she trusts.

This is the only image of Cerise's side we ever got in the show. From what is shown Cerise has a deep woods nature theme to her room.

I do believe Cerise has a canopy bed, but it does not resemble the one in the second image.

With Cerise on many sports teams, she most likely has workout equipment like running shoes, weights, a yoga mat, etc.

Cerise would definitely have a dream catcher like her cousin Ramona (I know they're sisters in the show, and I'll explain why I made them cousins in another headcanon), also I think Cerise has Native American roots in her and is used to reflect her culture.

The middle flooring, wallpaper, and the second curtains are Cerise's.

In one of the quizzies on the website it said that Cerise's side of the room is most likely messy.

Once Cerise's wolf side is revealed she'll add more wolf motifs to her room (we saw that wolf painting). It won't be a wolf cave like Ramona's, but it would be a mixture of both worlds.

I don't know why, but I can picture her with a mini fridge with filled with energy drinks, jerky (can you put jerky in a fridge?), and her mother's pastries.

Also, Cerise travels via shadows so she might rarely use the door to her dorm. At first this freaked Cedar out, one moment she was somewhere else in school the next she's back in there dorm.

EVERAFTERROYAL @darth-alinart, @teatime-with-maddie @everafterhighcaps EAHWIKI ROYALREBELWIKI

#ever after high #eah #everafterhigh #ever after rebel #cerise hood #cedar wood #dorm room #my art

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carolinemillerbooks · 1 month

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New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-curmudgeon-in-the-family-of-man/

A Curmudgeon In The Family Of Man

I was grateful to my neighbor for helping me with a technical problem. He’s the resident guru on computers at the retirement center and far too modest about himself. Aware that I might need his advice in the future, I asked if he’d care to adopt me despite my advanced age. A smile parted his lips as his gaze dropped to the carpet. “We’re all family here,” he said. I walked away thinking he’d uttered a beautiful notion, though I tend to reject sentiments that are warm and fuzzy. I’m old enough to know that the history of “the “family of man” is dysfunctional. Since Caine slew Able we’ve worked to perfect the art of violence. Murder isn’t the kind of glue to hold society together, so we attempt to contain it by inventing rules. Murder on a grand scale we call war. The rules on those occasions are those of The Geneva Convention. The smaller stuff we leave to religion, laws, politics, and the whims of tyranny. But, like the potter who leaves his fingerprints upon newly shaped clay, because we are flawed creatures, the systems we create can be weaponized and used to threaten others. Justice, after all, is the gloved fist of vengeance. Bill Clinton, our 42nd President, sees philanthropy as a better way to promote social cohesion. Philanthropy can help bust through political and cultural gridlock by showing what can be done. He has many true believers, so many that at his last conference on philanthropy, a thousand do-gooders had to be turned away. Enthusiasm on this scale is heartwarming, but I’m a curmudgeon. I’ve never been keen to turn the world over to philanthropists. Who are they, after all, but people otherwise known as oligarchs? Nick Caraway in The Great Gatsby told us about them. They are people who don’t think like the rest of us. I doubt any butcher, baker, cowboy, or tailor would choose to live in a Martian colony under Elan Musk’s rules. I place my faith in “we the people.” Democracy’s collective mind is where we are most likely to find common ground. Alexei Navalny, Vladamir Putin’s murdered opponent, was a man of the people. Having survived attempts to assassinate him, he warned his followers their fate didn’t depend upon his survival but upon their will. If it happens, if they decide to kill me, it means we are incredibly strong. We need to use that power. (“A Hero of Our Time,” by Mariam Elder, Vanity Fair, April 2024, pg. 34.) His words may seem like a whistle against the dark, but the Ukrainian people are a living example of that courage. Their David and Goliath story can set this curmudgeon’s heart to racing. Even so, dreams can become fodder for blind ambition. Our Republican House has placed a chokehold on future aid to that country, reversing their past support. They did it to placate their revenge candidate, Donald Trump, in the upcoming presidential election. Trump holds a grudge against Ukraine and is happy to curry the favor of their invader, Vladimir Putin. If elected, our former president promises to leave Ukraine to the Russians. The predatory world in which we live is Nature’s doing, but humans have wasted no time in making a hell out of the heaven they inherited. Some attempt to escape the violence by turning to drugs or alcohol. Others rely on religion, mysticism, or conspiracy theories for the dopamine high that makes them happy. Artificial Intelligence (AI) and augmented virtual reality could provide other avenues of escape. Their illusions might help us create worlds so satisfying, that many won’t return to planet Earth. For proof of that possibility, observe how people are mesmerized by their smartphones. We humans aren’t algorithms, however. Wherever we go, we drag our dark side behind us like a beloved toy. That’s a drawback to consider as we cheer the coming of augmented reality. Despite the challenges ahead, like Navalny, I have hope because….well, what else is there? Fraternity, equality, and liberty are pretty good ideas. To obtain them all we have to do is curb our tribal nature, though some have argued it doesn’t exist. Whether Instinctive or learned, history confirms that group-think seems natural to us. We desire to be among people who look like us and share our values. That passion for conformity rivals our growing need to respect diversity and sometimes makes democracy seem like a fool’s dream. Given my doubts about the future of mankind, I left the caring gentleman at the retirement center with one request. “please don’t include me as a member of the community. I prefer to be the resident alley cat.”

#Alexei Navalny #Bill Clinton #Donald Trump #Elan Musk #Mariam Elder #Nick Caraway #oligarchs #philanthropy #The Family of Man #The Geneva Convention #The Great Gatsby #tribalism #Vladamir Putin

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bondsmagii · 1 year

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Having an existential crisis right now and I shall come to your inbox like a sinner comes to a priest.

So I'm 25, college dropout, barely held a job (like did it for 2 months) and am completely supported by my parents. I'm in every aspect the definition of failure, right? Objectively. Some part was due to mental illness, but mostly me being a lazy and stupid asshole who didn't know what to do with their lives. And then I realized I wanted to be an artist, right? Like one does. And I'm pretty good at it also, think I might have a chance, had some interest in my little art. Very happy. But, but, sadly, to me and all the nation, my parents are rich white awful conservatives who have a very heavy foot on local politics. So, you know, giving the culture of accountability, which I do support, I would've been canceled if I ever attempted to be an artist, which is understandable. Like I've had enormous privileges that were born out of shitty shitty ways. And while I can justify it as a minor, I don't think that being like "well I was a little sad and a little lost and did bad choices" is an excuse when you're a grown ass adult. I directly benefited from money earned by bad ways and just being supported by hateful hateful harmful people. It's like they calling out Benedict cumbebatch for their family being slave owners, you know? You might not have directly done the harm but you did benefit from it. I did benefit from it - everything I ever had and eaten and done was paid for with my dad being an asshole politician. Anyway, I know I can't pursue art, you know? Like I know it. I understand it. I know it's my fault for not leaving early and not getting my shit together and if I ever had a fighting chance of not being an asshole and associated with my family of assholes that chance was turning 18 and leaving - which I didn't do. And it's not like I don't plan on leaving, I absolutely do. Want to get my shit together and cut this people off as soon as possible. But it makes me so sad that I cannot pursue art bc of this. I try to imagine my dream life, like everyone does, and even then when I dream of being an accomplished writer, i can only imagine me being canceled and publicly shamed for coming out of this shitty ass rich family and everything I ever did stained in an irreparable way. In my dreams I'm jk rowling and my past is like her tweeting. A whole life of work and creation destroyed and ruined. People feeling ashamed of even having liked your art to begin with. Like Man, i could even be acused of nepotism, although it truly never played any part on anything. My parents give two shots about art and have no contact with the art world whatsoever. But still, you know, son of a politician. Plus its not only bc of them but bc of my past actions, I am the stereotypical entitled asshole who doesn't work and dropped out of college and fucked up in general. I didn't mean to be one, it just happened I guess. It infuriates me, I wish I could go back to 18 year old me and drag my ass out of the bed and just like beat the shit out of me. Wish I could do it to last year me too, to be honest. Turning 25 really does change a men's perspective. Not that I didn't know I was a failure, but I was quite prone to outsourcing the guilt, you know.

Well, anyways, I know I don't deserve pity or anything like that I mean cmon, but by God did I manage to fuck myself over thoroughly by just doing nothing. Literally doing nothing. It's very frustrating, feeling your past eat your future alive. Undescriblale grief, truly. Anyway, probably gonna become a history teacher now. Go back to college.

But it feels like I will never be able to erase my parents fingerprints of my life tho and everything I ever do will be derivative of the privilege they gave me growing up, which wouldn't be a bad thing, if I didn't fucking hate them and they weren't awful ppl.

Inescapable hell, I tell you. Deserved, I know. It's like that tiktok song "I know I fucked up but jesus".

Yeah anyway

Thank you for hearing my confession bc like father have I sinned.

I say all of this in the absolute kindest way, anon, and with the disclaimer that I firmly believe that nobody is undeserving of redemption and everybody deserves the chance to be happy: this is absolutely delusional, and I'm sorry that you've come to think this way. I am so sorry that you feel you need to live a half-life you're completely lacking passion for, based on these ridiculous arbitrary ideas on who is "allowed" to produce art. I'm sorry that you've been led to believe that the mistakes and choices we make as young people define the rest of our lives and we're not allowed to move on from them. and I'm sorry that you've been made to feel like you will never escape the shadow of your parents. all of this is absolutely false, and I sincerely hope you rethink. I'm going to go through a few things that stood out to be here, because Christ, anon, this is not the way.

So, you know, giving the culture of accountability, which I do support, I would've been canceled if I ever attempted to be an artist, which is understandable.

no, it's not. the current culture of accountability, like many things, came from a place of genuine desire to hold the people doing society the most harm to account. it was designed to call out billionaires and millionaires, and corrupt police forces, and parasitic business practises, and organisations like Hollywood and colleges that covered up constant sexual assault and harrasment, and other things of a similarly insidious calibre. it was never designed for small fry like your parents, who, while perhaps terrible, have likely not done anywhere near this level of damage. even if they have, it was never designed for the children of these people. unless the child grows up, learns better, and still choses to be ignorant and go into the family business, the blame does not rest with them. this level of accountability -- that the child is accountable for the sins of the parent -- is more in line with Soviet Russia or North Korea. it is deranged.

you know better now. take steps to get away and become self-sufficient. you do not deserve to be "held accountable" for being a minor child, and then being a dumb idiot in your early 20s. you are 25 years old. that's an impressively young age to screw your head on right. I know people twice your age (literally!) who still can't admit they've been assholes in the past. you have the rest of your life to learn and do the right thing. denying yourself the life you want in order to beat yourself up over these made-up "crimes" is akin to white guilt in the way that it helps absolutely nobody and "makes up" for nothing. not to mention coming off as self-centred and conceited, putting yourself at the centre of something that harmed others, which is obviously not what you're going for. you do not need to do penance for the rest of your life because you were born to assholes.

And while I can justify it as a minor, I don't think that being like "well I was a little sad and a little lost and did bad choices" is an excuse when you're a grown ass adult.

you are only 25. this idea that all these young people on TikTok or Twitter or whatever have absolutely spotless political credentials is a lie. you made bad choices. you recognised they were bad. now you want to avoid repeating those choices. you have made a mistake and learned from it, and become a better person. that's how it's supposed to work. you don't fuck up and then have to retire from life forever. I will sooner trust somebody who openly admits to being privileged and ignorant in the past than someone who claims they never had a problem with it, and I do not subscribe to the idea that the more oppressed you are, the better you are morally. the best among us are those who fuck up and learn and admit and accept their capacity to cause harm. the worst among us are those who think they're immune to learning, always right, and incapable of doing wrong.

Anyway, I know I can't pursue art, you know? Like I know it.

you are wrong. all art is worth something. every human on the planet has the right to create art and be appreciated for it. it is not something you "earn" the right to do by being adequately oppressed. everyone has something worth saying, and the problem is with industries that amplify certain art over others, not the artists and their backgrounds. it is also fully possible to use your privilege and contacts to shine light on issues and artists that deserve more attention. the idea that if you're too privileged you're not "allowed" to make art, or you have nothing worth saying, is absolutely fucking insane and is not an attitude you come across among normal, intelligent people.

Like Man, i could even be acused of nepotism, although it truly never played any part on anything.

the wonderful thing about callout culture is that you could be accused of anything some random, bitter, uncharitable user decides. I have been accused of being a genocide supporter, a neo-Nazi, a transphobe, and a paedophile. you'll learn quickly as a writer that people who do this are stupid as shit and nobody with a braincell listens to them. I strongly recommend spending more time offline to recalibrate yourself to how normal people think.

Plus its not only bc of them but bc of my past actions, I am the stereotypical entitled asshole who doesn't work and dropped out of college and fucked up in general. I didn't mean to be one, it just happened I guess. It infuriates me, I wish I could go back to 18 year old me and drag my ass out of the bed and just like beat the shit out of me. Wish I could do it to last year me too, to be honest.

we all wish this. I was a cunt at 18. I was a cunt at 21. I was a cunt probably up until I was 26, so congrats, you're a year ahead of me. you know better now. you fully deserve to learn from your mistakes and be allowed the opportunity to be a better person. nobody on the planet is immune from being an asshole, especially at this age. you are right on track, at the age where most people mature and grow out of their assholishness. this is not some irredeemable flaw that you possess because of your parents' privilege. this is called growing up. it is good and it is normal.

Well, anyways, I know I don't deserve pity

I don't like to give out pity anway, as I find it condescending, but you do have my sympathy. you should feel guilt for any people you have actually hurt, yourself, through bad behaviour in the past. but you have my sympathy for the way that you've been made to believe that these mistakes, which you regret and wish to change and never repeat, should doom you to a life of misery, that you do not particularly want, and that apparently mean you're not "allowed" to follow your passions. that is desperately sad. I am sorry this has happened to you. you deserve a chance to prove yourself a better, wiser person, and you deserve the rewards that should come from changing. forgive yourself.

But it feels like I will never be able to erase my parents fingerprints of my life

not quite the same situation as you, but I once thought this exactly. my parents fucked me up big time, and I thought that I would never escape them. now nothing I have has anything to do with them. it's possible and you will get to this point too. think about the life that you want -- that is not theirs. but living miserably in penance for your parents' sins? that will ensure that you will never, ever escape them. the choice is yours.

Inescapable hell, I tell you. Deserved, I know.

never deserved. if you want to do better you deserve the chance. it is never too late to start doing better, it's never too late to change yourself, and if you're sincere and you succeed, you deserve to be happy.

finally, to reiterate something I said earlier: spend less time online. this kind of thought process is only found in people who spend excruciating amounts of time online. people do not think like this in the real world. grown adults with critical thinking skills and basic empathy do not think you should suffer forever because your parents were assholes and you made some stupid choices in your teens and early twenties. being exposed to the kinds of "politics" you get online -- which is less about politics and more about power and self-righteousness and putting others down in order to disguise one's own flaws -- is quite literally making you insane. sign off and work on yourself. the average human life span is around 80 years. don't live in misery because some people online think the first 25 of those years define you.

#anon #asks

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keyrousse · 2 years

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So, I finished "The Sandman". Which is amazing because I don't remember when did I finish any show last. "Good Omens" maybe? I haven't even finished "Staged", which is 12 episodes of 15 minutes each and I have the DVD.

I haven't read the comics and I'm still debating (with myself) whether to do it. I'll probably take a look at a local library, although considering that the show is No 1 in Poland, too, if they even have the comics I'll probably have to get in line.

Anyway, 8/10.

Maybe it's because it started with the main character locked naked in a glass orb, looking like a piece of art and thus giving the fic writer in me a lot of scenarios for delicious hurt/comfort (I haven't written a fic for this - yet? - but a lot of other people did, which I greatly appreciate). After seeing those images, I could simply take joy from Tom Sturridge's acting - and then it got even better.

The cast is perfect. Acting is great. I enjoyed - and could easily follow! - the events, laughing, going 'awww!' or barely handling the tension (looking at you, ep5). Screencapping.

I don't know why on IMDb the notes tanked after ep6. Sure, the focus shifted from following Dream to Rose Walker, but that doesn't make episodes 7-10 bad. They're just different.

So. Anyway. I loved it and I hope we'll get s2. (and DVD/BluRay of s1, because I don't trust streaming services and prefer to have a physical copy of every medium I love. Yes, I still buy CDs, DVDs and BluRays. This is my way of showing love.)

(I still think one of the reasons the show's so good - and apparently a very faithful adaptation of the comics - is because Neil Gaiman was so passionate and closely involved. If only Andrzej Sapkowski cared about his world this much.)

Congrats to the whole team involved in the production of "The Sandman".

"I will build it again."

"No more ravens."

"Had a devil locked up in his basement."

I like your profile, sir. (I also loved that coat. I wouldn't wear it, but the leather parts looked like an armour)

I wonder if that was actually Tom Sturridge's hand. They removed the fingerprints and I'm sure he's grown his fingernails to look more claw-like, as seen especially in ep1, so it's possible it's not his hand.

I absolutely loved their dynamic here.

I still like your profile, sir.

Here comes the jerk! Up to that episode, I was wondering why people say Dream's an asshole. I was like, 'he's not human, he was hurt so he's angry, but a jerk? Naah.' Well, he is a jerk.

profile

"They're siblings, don't see that as erotic!" Yeah, well, if only Tom, Alexander, the writers, the director, the art department (or whoever is responsible for that setting) and the music department didn't make it look erotic. Because that scene was incredibly sexy.

I have about 280 screencaps. Sorry they're so dark, I'm lazy.

#The Sandman #screencaps #Tom Sturridge #Dream of the Endless

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kindahoping4forever · 2 years

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Hi Crystal!

Just looked through your blog to see if I had missed any thoughts you shared on the album, but instead I saw you said you didn't post anything bc no one asked. So I came here to ask ☺️

What song surprised you most? What's your current top 3? What line(s) keeps rotating in your head? What stood out to you most on first listen? (Feel free to ignore the questions if you'd like to just ramble about the album in general. I just want to know your thoughts haha)

What did you end up thinking of the iHeartradio set list? I was surprised they didn't play Bad Omens and that Complete Mess was actually the only new song they played.

They really did look hot. Especially Ashton. I feel like it's always especially Ashton lmao.

I really appreciate you both looking for and asking my opinion! (And sorry for the delay in answering, omg this week has been a lot both IRL and in 5SOS-land 🫠)

Current Top 3 would have to be: Caramel, Bad Omens and... Moodswings? Either Moodswings or Red Line. (I should do the song sorter to see how I really feel I guess 😌) I don't know if any particular song surprised me but I think in general, I was pleasantly surprised at how much their lyricism has continued to evolve. There's so much symbolism and truly poetic imagery in this album, while still maintaining an accessibility that doesn't distract from the sometimes painful honesty of what's being talked about.

Which was another surprise for me: they talked so much about wanting this album to feel lighter and brighter than CALM, how they purposely wrote in major chords and keys, how that's what the world "needs" - and they accomplished that, this album is energetic and a delight... but also contains some of their saddest lyrics to date. 😅 I'm definitely not complaining, sad girl hours all day everyday, I actually love that juxtaposition, but that was funny to me.

Another pleasant surprise (for me anyways lmao) is how Ash-heavy this album feels - and I don't just mean how rhythm heavy it is or the fact that he actually gets lead vocals (that would've been enough though 😍) and is so audible in the group vocals. One of the things I've always loved about 5SOS is at least to me, I feel like they each have distinct songwriting/melodic voices and tendencies and so it's often apparent whose artistry is driving a song. And so to me, I hear a lot of Ash melodies and I see his large fingerprints all over some of these lyrics. Which makes me both happy and sad because like I said, this album is lowkey depressing as fuck but you know what, the man knows how to make beautiful art out of that darkness so 😌

I don't know if I'm ready to say it's my favorite album or their best album yet (historically I usually say YB is the fav and CALM is their best, for the record) but I am definitely very happy and very proud of what was accomplished here! 👏🏻👏🏻

iHeartRadio thoughts under the cut!

I really really loved the iHeart set! I saw them at Wango Tango (another iHeart event) and while I will never complain about seeing them live, their set there was... puzzling to say the least. Only 5 songs total and the only new song they did was Me Myself & I, which was only a few weeks old and had not received the radio exposure that Complete Mess had (and also a bit too mid-tempo for the set IMO).

I think they definitely made strides to correct those issues in the iHeart set and it was a dream! At a radio/festival show, the goals should be crowd engagement (which is why I think they mostly stuck to their best known songs) and giving a performance so memorable, no matter how many artists play, you're the one people go home remembering. For that reason, Teeth should always be in their festival set, even if people don't know it (and it seemed like a surprising amount did!), it slaps so hard, it's gonna be a moment whether you're a fan or not. I think they should also consider making Complete Mess a staple in that kind of set, it's also a great live moment and I think gives a good example of what kind of band they'd like to be seen as in this era. And I will never get over the fact we got No Shame/Easier/More at a radio show, that's nuts. It's what we (and More) deserve. 10/10.

#i kind of answered your questions but also kind of didn't but my answer was getting long so I stopped lol #would always be happy to talk more about the album tho ofc #and yes i said all that about iheart without even getting into whatever Ash was doing that whole set #iconic #talented brilliant incredible amazing showstopping spectacular never the same totally unique completely not ever been done before #ask #smolphie #5sos5

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alondradina · 1 year

Text

The beginning of Domaystic 2023!

Day 1: Housewarming

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Rating: T

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46893625

Harry wasn't sure what he had expected of Hogwarts university, but the reality was better than he had dreamed. Hermione would have told him it was because he lacked imagination — which was rich considering how much effort she had to put into art and creative writing in high school — but he knew the real issue was that he'd had so few good experiences in life.

"What d'ye think?" Ron asked, shifting the box of Harry's belongings he was carrying.

Harry looked around the ground floor of the dorm he'd be living in for his Freshman year. It was comfortably worn in, but not threadbare or in poor repair. It just looked like what he thought a home should be. The carpets were a warm maroon with flattened trails where students walked. The wooden walls glowed dully in the subdued lighting.

He had grown up in the Dursley's house; white and beige with gray accents. There were no fingerprints, no squeaky steps, no muddy welcome mats. Harry himself had ensured that. He had spent years slaving away in that house. It was strange to think that someone else would be cleaning here.

"It's nice… real nice," Harry finally answered. He shrugged at Ron's incredulous look. "Kinda like your place."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "I don't know about your house, but most people don't think mine is great."

"It's a home. People live there. People who love each other. That's better than what I had."

Rolling his eyes, Ron gestured towards the line of people waiting for the elevator. "We doing that, or going up the stairs?"

"It's only one floor up. We can do that."

"You'd hope so," Ron grumbled, leading the way towards the door marked 'stairs,' "Mad eye keeping us running all summer and all."

"Coach Moody has a point, you know. Not going to win if we don't have any stamina."

Ron scoffed in response.

The carpet on the stairs was not nearly as worn as the lobby, and Harry had the feeling people avoided taking them. Their loss, he thought; only just now hearing the elevator head back downstairs.

"What's the apartment number?" Ron hollered over his shoulder, opening the stairwell door and stepping through without holding it for his friend.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled it open — juggling the two boxes he was carrying — and followed after. "Two oh three."

"That's convenient. It's right here."

Harry shifted to look around his friend. His apartment was one over from the stairs, which was, indeed, convenient. "Guess I will take the stairs then."

"Your funeral."

The elevator dinged and a few people stepped out. One of them was Hermione. She was animatedly speaking with a dark haired boy, who was listening with cool politeness; face blankly staring until she glanced over at him. His dark eyes briefly met Harry's when Hermione pointed him out.

"Harry!" She called, grinning her familiar bucktoothed smile. Trotting down the hall, she quickly gestured between the boys. "The tall redhead is Ron, and the other is Harry. This is Tom"

"A pleasure," Tom intoned, tone as neutral as his smile.

"He's the other scholarship winner!" Hermione exclaimed.

"So another know-it-all?" Ron snarked, rolling his eyes at Hermione's glare. "Nice to meet you or whatever, but we're here to help Harry drop his shit off, remember?"

Hermione frowned. "You're being rude, Ronald. I'm not the late one."

"The apartment is right here, Hermione," Harry interrupted, pointing his shoulder at the door.

A flicker of something crossed Tom's face before he held up a key labeled 203. "That's my apartment."

"Oh. Guess you guys are roommates," Hermione smiled, stepping back so Tom could unlock the door.

Tom gave him a quick once over, and Harry fought the urge to flinch. He plastered a fake smile on his face, wishing he had bothered to wear more presentable clothes. He hadn't expected his roommate to be so standoffish and critical.

"Your stuff already in there?" Harry inquired as Tom politely held the door open for them.

"Yes."

"Didn't know they gave the keys out any earlier than noon."

"I had extenuating circumstances."

"Like what?" Ron demanded, thunking Harry's box onto the kitchen counter.

"None of your business," Tom answered calmly. He paused at a nearby door and locked eyes with Harry. "This is my room."

Harry shrugged. "Sounds good."

Tom nodded and gave Hermione a neutral smile again. "A pleasure to meet you, Hermione. I'm sure I will see you around."

"We have a lot of the same classes," Hermione agreed, ignoring Ron as he made faces. "We should study together sometime."

"Perhaps," Tom allowed. He shot Harry another inscrutable look before opening his door and stepping inside. "Have a good afternoon."

Ron snorted as the door closed. "Good afternoon? Who is this freak?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, crossing her arms and glaring.

"What? He's acting all hoity toity," Ron turned to face Harry. "Offer still stands for you to stay with us."

"Where's he going to sleep, Ron?" Hermione scoffed, "at the foot of your bed?"

He flushed a brilliant red and scowled. "We'll get one of those inflatable beds or something."

"If I wanted to live with someone else, I would have taken Sirius' offer," Harry pointed out, setting his boxes on the counter next to the one Ron had carried. "I want to do my own thing for a while."

"With someone like him?"

Hermione aimed a kick at Ron's shin, who easily dodged it. "There's nothing wrong with Tom. I'm sure he will be an excellent roommate."

"You would think that-"

Harry rolled his eyes and decided to ignore their argument in favor of examining his new home. Immediately to the left of the entrance was the kitchenette.

Against the wall there was a white countertop — a microwave and an electric kettle taking up most of the space — and a single sink. The cabinets underneath were medium brown with golden knobs. A mini fridge stood off to the side.

Past that was a small brown table with two matching chairs. The room then opened up into a medium sized living room with a maroon loveseat in the middle. A small TV stand with a 32' TV sat in front of it. There were two bookshelves on opposite sides. Directly across from Tom's room was another door.

"What's in there?" Ron asked.

Hermione snorted. "I assume it's Harry's room."

"She's right," Harry said, stepping in. The room was about the same size as Dudley's second bedroom, but much more open without all of his cousin's trash. There was a brown three drawer dresser to his right, and a bare twin sized bed to his left. A desk sat under the only window.

"Pretty bare," Ron commented, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"We'll have to go shopping," Hermione agreed.

"There's some stuff over here," Harry said, opening the closet that was right behind the bedroom door. Inside there were sheets, blankets, and pillows, sitting beside a laundry shoot.

"They clean your laundry here?" Hermione inquired.

Harry shrugged. "I think just the bedding and stuff. Not personal laundry."

"Better than me," Ron sighed. "The twins said I have to do their laundry and stuff, since they're letting me stay for free."

"That seems fair," Hermione said, moving out of the way so the boys could exit. "What next?"

"Unpack?" Harry suggested, glancing at Tom's closed door. "You think he's going to stay in there?"

"You wanted to do your own thing," Ron pointed out grumpily. "Easy to do if you never see the guy."

"I suppose…"

"He'll come out eventually," Hermione said decisively, already at the counter with Harry's boxes. "Is there any organization to this? What goes where?"

A few hours later — half an hour spent on dispersing Harry's sparse belongings and the remaining time spent going to various stores — the three of them leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed their work.

"Well, it looks like someone lives here now," Ron said, staring at his phone.

Hermione smiled at Harry. "Think this will work for you?"

"Yeah," he smiled back, "better than it would have been without you guys."

"My brothers want to come over. They said they'll bring a pizza; have a little party."

"That's not such a good-"

"Not right now, Ron," Harry protested. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to Tom yet."

"About what? Having friends over?" Ron scoffed. "He can't tell you no."

"That's not the point, Ronald," Hermione interrupted. She shushed him when he opened his mouth. "The point is that it's rude to just throw parties without checking. It's Tom's home as well."

"Well, he can have his friends over sometime. If he has friends."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Maybe another time, Ron. I'm not going to spring the twins on him with no warning. I have to live with this guy."

"Already said you don't HAVE to," Ron grumbled, shoving his phone in his back pocket. "You could still come live with us."

"I want to stay here. I like this dorm and I like being on campus."

"It'll be fine," Hermione said, with a special glower for Ron. Checking her phone, she raised her eyebrows at Harry. "You ok with us going, then? I want to get to my dorm, and I'm sure Ron has something he needs to do as well."

"I do? Shit!" Ron winced when Hermione kicked his shin. "I guess I do have to go; somewhere far from her."

"Ronald!"

Harry escorted the bickering pair to the elevator and waited with them until the door closed. Sighing, he returned to his dorm.

Tom leaned against the wall between his room and the bathroom. The electric kettle was on, and Harry could hear the water beginning to boil.

Tom raised an eyebrow at Harry. Gesturing towards the Hogwarts football banner on the wall, he inquired, "Are you a player, or just a fan?"

"A player," Harry cautiously answered. He had been leery of decorating their shared space, but even Hermione had thought having a school poster up would be alright. "For the Gryffindor team."

Tom's aristocratic face formed a sneer more naturally than it did a smile. The kettle's whistle distracted him from whatever he had been planning on saying. Striding across the room — brushing past Harry so closely that he stumbled back into the wall — Tom pulled a mug from one of the cabinets and filled it. He pulled a tea packet out of a white box, set it into the mug, and set a timer on his phone.

Harry stood still, warily watching his roommate. Tom seemingly ignored him, though, and Harry relaxed enough to step away from the wall. When that elicited no reaction, he took another step towards the kitchen. Tom didn't look up until his timer went off, and he'd pulled the teabag from the mug.

Harry cleared his throat as Tom took a pensive sip; eyeing him over the top of his mug. "So, Tom-"

Tom set his tea down and stepped into Harry's space, backing him into the counter. "You may keep your poster, but do not decorate anywhere else from now on."

"That's fair-" Harry began, pressing as far into the cabinets as he could.

Tom used the few inches of height he had over Harry to loom. "I appreciate that you sent your companions away. There will be no parties here."

Harry scoffed, meeting Tom's unblinking stare. "You can't say no to my friends coming over."

"There is a difference between having friends over and throwing a party," Tom pointed out calmly, before returning to his tea. Taking a slow sip, examining Harry the whole time, Tom swallowed and pushed away from the counter. "But I'm sure we will work it out."

"I guess…" Harry said, keeping his body turned to Tom's as the other boy returned to his room.

Pausing halfway through the doorway, Tom lifted his cup in a friendly salute. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," Harry replied, but Tom's door was already closed.

#domaystic2023 #domaystic #day 1 #housewarming #harry potter #tom riddle #harry/tom

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elliottpoetry2 · 12 days

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A story about someone staying at someone's house and then their room is randomly cleaned a day they think it's the owner doing it but it's really just...

Reality fixing itself...

(To be surprised... what's going on?)

"To let you know that something is up."

"What?"

"I got the golden key. I hold the white door... but hey, don't be alarmed, it's just my plan."

"What's this mean for everyone else?"

"I don't know, same as before, it all worked out. It was from time travel anyways right? So eventually... but I did it, if it's the past then I'll do it."

"You're talking about exploding."

"Yeah but no one can beat me. I just moved over. I got the word in this one and in the next one and the way I did it... I've got all the shit worked out for eons... It's so weird, I just picked it up. Like this white folder with my name in it stamped with some royal thing, like it had a Chinese dragon on it with the name Solomon. They thought it was all about the mice like a blast from the past but it was different this time, and I remember, I reached back somehow and got in control. I jumped so high no one could see it, no one could expect it, and then I guess I was covering their eyes the whole time. The new thing was on the ground, I had to tell him. I knew that, and so I waited and he told me to tell him what to do. Who to hit... all that stuff, for the whole thing... and then... I'm just here, watching t.v. and no one can stop me and I looked into the future... it already existed in the past... came through a channel of light billions upon billions of years ago... I think it was ultra... finale... primo... the top... the solomon thing... it's all good, but I think it was like from silver diamonds... or silver diamonds with a leash... but I wanted the one's I wrote.. close enough I hope... some fucking bitch she said, didn't even care about anything else, acting like a robot... and don't worry about the transmission, it's gotta be sal at the top. I told you the door's locked just like before, like Jesus Christ with a fingerprint, like a monk... I guess I hoped it'd work if it could be projected through the simulation but this is all physical, I'm glad I'm not really a heavy sinner... I guess I drink sometimes and smoke cigarettes but this is like incense right? Whatever, anyways, what they said about thr monkeys... whatever, who gives a shit... I was gonna do this, it's written in like a handful of religious texts... I mean, the Torah is different I know that, I didn't fuck up, I mean, how can it be a sin to use Jesus Christ in real life? Like to put other people in hell... just to run it, for the trap... for fun, haven't you ever seen those Christian girls in lip gloss? Swimming around the pool, those are some of the best one's, especially a prude... you know..."

"What about exploding?"

"Oh yeah, exploding, it's past that, the staircase went all the way up til even the cops couldn't see me, even spies, every country... even royalty... check those religions, they were all stuck in a cunt like I looked over my shoulder, buried their heads in the sand of their own dream like languages until I got a guy looking in the mirror talking about people in portraits at the art museum and we still have to work it all out with a fucking knife... like it was my knife... like it was the fucking art museum anyways... like I told you... the golden key, locked white door, even past the English man... all the way to, you fucking guessed it, sat lok... how's that even real? A fucking Muslim image on a Spanish portrait frame... it was more than dice, it was a design... they might try to blame me but I took all those fucking uh, what... mannequins, whatever, I threw em in a bag... said that shit to that fucking bitch and it turned all the cards to gold just like the plan... "que pasa." (laughs) I was saying it was like a quesadilla, an israeli quesadilla... now I just wait... but it's on it's way, it's right here, that fucking guy making pizzas has two folders, one says his and one says mine, and it's on the books that I signed it for it to be his in that folder, a phony folder, fucking genuis... and it's all squared away with the pay checks all the way to the wick..."

...

A story about a television talk show host thst was actually a ghost... he appeared as a cowboy in a film after a 7 year old child went to a summer camp with a western theme and then when the child grows up he realizes that the person is actually a ghost of a cowboy... he realized he was a ghost after noting that he had only happened upon the western film after going to a western themed camp and he Saud, as an adult, "where's all the new western media? why isn't it that authentic anymore?" and "the new cowboy films are all modernized." (Also a general theme element, could be any type of genre... in form, this design can be used as a template)

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callmeblake · 10 months

Text

The Aquarian Weekly published November 23rd, 2022

Photo Credit: Mark Beemer

Digital version below the cut:

Mark Beemer

L.S. Dunes: “A Brand New Adventure”

Valentino Petrarca

Digital Cover Series

November 23, 2022

The Dunes dudes are five veteran rockers whose professional musicianship coexists with their personal friendship, shaping new and modern artistry that knows no rules and no bounds. We’re proud to live in their world, honored to experience DunesDay, and appreciative of their bond with both each other, and us.

Most supergroups are defined by the members and the former projects they’re in. Doing so with L.S. Dunes would be selling the project short and doing Past Lives a disservice. This is wholeheartedly its own entity. It sounds nothing like we’ve heard before and stands on its own by the music itself.

The band consists of our friends, Anthony Green, best known as Circa Survive’s beloved vocalist, and Frank Iero, My Chemical Romance guitarist with side projects galore. Tucker Rule, drummer for the incomparable band Thursday, and Tim Payne, Thursday’s bassist, round out the quintet with guitarist Travis Stever, lead shredder for Coheed and Cambria. It’s an impressive lineup – one filled with talent and camaraderie – and despite any preconceived notions, listeners will soon realize that this project sounds nothing like they’d expect. L.S. Dunes is not an endeavor rooted in nostalgia, but rather helps push the scene of rock music forward with experimentation and the reminder that art is supposed to be fun and expressive at its core. The music we’ve heard so far feels like the five members are creatively at their best and together, as a band, are putting their best foot forward.

Past Lives dropped earlier this month on November 11. This LP is a complex musical journey that travels through many different soundscapes and lyrical themes. Grit and enthusiasm is laced into every song. A band with members as successful as these could have easily phoned in a quick, simple album to get a paycheck. L.S. Dunes defied that bland expectation and unfortunate trend to truly put their heart and soul into every track on Past Lives. It is an album that sounds like nothing else we’ve heard before – each track is original and exciting, yet somehow seamless as every song lends itself to the next, thus creating an experience that encourages full, cover-to-cover album listening. Keep in mind that right when you think you’ve heard the best song on the album, another one comes around the bend quickly, pummeling twice as hard.

First question right out the gate: Past Lives finally out, so how are you feeling?

Frank: It feels amazing, man. So far we had the record release show at Fingerprints and then last night we had our first proper show with the record out at the Garden Amphitheater. It was amazing to actually be able to play these songs and have kids know them. It’s a dream come true, you know? We’ve been holding onto this secret for so long now. To finally have it out in the world… fuck, man, that’s what it’s all about.

Tucker: It was such a big part of our lives that only we knew about. It’s kind of like we were lying to everybody in a weird way. Now it’s finally like we can tell the truth.

Frank: Yeah, totally.

How long were you guys holding onto this secret for? You had formed the band, you started writing these songs – how long did you have to sit on that?

Tim: Two years almost!

Frank: [Two years] from when we got the first demos back from Anthony. That was the thing – we were in the pandemic together sending some things back and forth. You know, life happens and everybody’s got kids, so it was a process of working on it but at the same time there was no stress, there was no time limit, there was no expectation of what this was going to turn into or when this was going to turn into anything. It was slow moving, but it kept us going collectively. I think the moment we got the first demo back from Anthony was when we knew it was going to be a real band. That’s when we had the secret, basically.

What was it like hearing the mastered music for the first time? You have so many different influences coming together from every band in your background. I imagine the first time you hear everything finished as L.S. Dunes that is has to be a cool feeling.

Frank: Oh, absolutely.

Tim: Yeah, yeah! That was the thing that was really cool. We basically recorded this album three times – we did the demos and then we went in for a full pre-production session. We get to hear it go from ideas and demos and piecing it together to full song structure where we can really add the nuances. Even after that, we bring it to Will [Yip] and have him have his hands on everything and see have it all take shape. Just looking back and seeing, “This was just a guitar riff,” or “This was just a drum beat,” at one point and seeing it come to fruition? It’s actually here in the world? It’s amazing to actually hear it and have people hearing it.

Frank: I feel like the sounds that Will got off this record are things I’ve been chasing for years. It’s crazy how energetic and live and fresh all the songs sound. I don’t think I ever heard a record that sounds like this. It’s maybe one of my favorite sounding records I’ve ever been part of.

Tucker: The most special thing I find about the record and the writing process was I feel like every part that every person put in was their initial gut reaction. I remember when we recorded Full Collapse (2001) back in the day. That excitement of being young came through on that record. Now as we’re in adulthood here, I think capturing that first gut reaction is just like capturing that excitement as a kid. It’s that same feeling over again, just 20 years later as an adult… which is insane.

Frank: I agree with that.

What is just so cool is you have all these masterminds of this post-hardcore/punk/emo world – whatever you want to call it, the scene – coming together. Thursday revolutionized it, My Chemical Romance is one of its biggest bands, Coheed and Cambria’s edge, Circa Survive’s melody… everybody brings their own little flair. I think that’s going back to what you were saying, Frank, about how it doesn’t sound like anything we’ve heard before from any of the bands.

Frank: It’s true. What I think is so special about this record is that there are elements that feel familiar, but in a brand new way. It still feels like a fresh, brand new band and it’s exciting in that way. I don’t get a nostalgic [feeling] when I hear this record and I’ve never heard that from any of the interactions that I’ve had with anyone else who has heard [Past Lives]. There are these familiar melodies that give you a sense of feeling at home when you listen to it, but at the same time, it’s a brand new adventure.

Absolutely! Now, Tim, I know you mentioned working with Will Yip as a producer. He is one of the most incredible producers in the scene currently. How did that relationship start? How did that unfold into what it is?

Tim: Anthony had recorded with Will a few times with Circa and his solo stuff. He had always been someone that I think everyone in the band, at some point, had always been like, “Oh, it would be really awesome to work with him.” He’s had such a big hand in so many records. I think we got on a call with him and just the initial reaction was that he was as excited as we were. I think that was kind of the mantra for the whole band: everyone is welcome to be involved as long as you bring the same amount of enthusiasm and excitement and not have any preconceived idea of what the process is going to be – or should be. Everyone just kind of let it happen and let their own creativity have a voice in the process. I mean… that was just awesome. It was so cool.

Tucker: Yeah, Will is an amazing dude and he’s also a ripping guitar player, a ripping drummer. I think a big thing about this band is that we don’t have any ego with this. You know what I mean? If he has a drum part that he thinks is cooler or an idea for something, I’m down to explore it. If he has a guitar part he thinks is cool or a sound in mind, we’re down to explore it. I think that’s the collaborative thing we’re looking for. We’re trying to incorporate as many friends as possible in this whole extravaganza.

Frank: That’s the thing, man. I feel like the thing you learn over the years – and it’s very rare when bands learn it early on – is that it is always about servicing the art and servicing the song. It’s never, “Oh, but this part I wrote is so cool when I play it.” Yeah, no one gives a fuck if it ruins the song, man. You’re not a songwriter. You’re not a band. You want to be a solo artist and that’s cool. You want to be a virtuoso or whatever? Ok. But when they work together, that’s fucking perfect, and it doesn’t make any sense when it doesn’t service the song. I feel like all of us collectively have had enough experience and know the game enough to realize what’s truly important. I was scared about that but also so relieved to find there were no egos in the band when it came to that kind of shit. That’s why it works so well.

Yeah! That’s the thing: the fans, we can sense that. We know when a song is genuine, if a song has that emotional heart and soul to it. You can just tell by the reception. You have one record out and over 300,000 monthly listeners on Spotify. I feel like the fans really gravitated towards this because they knew this is for the art. This isn’t just trying to make a supergroup for the sake of making a supergroup. You guys have a real vision.

Frank: Yeah, man! Never in my life have I ever been like, “I’m going to start a band so it does this this and this,” checking these boxes. It’s always like, “Oh, that sounds really cool. I want to play with that person. I want to write music with that person. I want to create with that person.” That’s the reason you start a band. Everything else is bullshit. You can smell that from a mile away. There’s a lot of them out there – we all know what they are – and some of them have been on the cover of your magazine.

Exactly. The reception has been astounding. I even wanted to ask and you guys all mentioned it: how it’s just about getting together with friends you admire creatively and have known each other for years now. Years! At what point is it like, “Alright, let’s do it – let’s start a project together.”

Frank: You always say that! We’ve said that probably 30 times over the last two years but never have the time to do it. It’s something you just say, like, “Oh, that’d be great,” but nobody has the time to do it. If you do get the time to hang out, you just want to fucking hang out. The pandemic is really what happened, man. No one had anything going on, everyone’s life just slowed to a halt, and it was awful. People lost their lives, they lost their livelihoods. A lot of terrible terrible shit happened. I also feel like the few of us that were able to weather the storm were able to find a little bit of a silver lining.; just kind of taking a step back to start appreciating things that were taken from us. Having the time to just spend with family, to get to do the silly little things on a daily basis that you put off then it’s like, “Wow, now I’m too old to do that.” We took that time and we came together and made something beautiful out of it. Not to get fucking spiritual, but that’s what this shit’s all about. We live in a world that can be very beautiful if you want it to be. It can be very ugly, too. To find the beauty in that ugliness is kind of our job as artists, don’t you think? So that’s what we did.

Tucker: We’re all fortunate enough to work in music and to be in bands that allow us to tour across the world and have people sing along. I think when that happens early on you develop these friendships with people like we did in all of our early touring days. But then your bands all go in different directions – literally in different directions. Somebody’s on tour in San Francisco and somebody’s on tour in New Jersey. You go all over the place. You don’t see everyone for like 20 years. Maybe you see them at a festival here and there. Like Frank was saying about the pandemic, I think that’s the one thing where the world stopped, but we just didn’t want to. We’re not used to stopping and sitting still.

That makes sense. You mentioned about obviously being Jersey-based. I want to ask how that Jersey scene has influenced you guys. You talk about New Jersey in Thursday songs, of course, and in My Chem songs, of course, and in Coheed songs, of course. There’s so much in every band about that specific NJ culture. You guys have been writing music for 20-30 years now, I want to know how it’s still influencing you to this day.

Tucker: I’ll tell you right off the bat – the reason why Thursday became a band is because we wanted to play in our singer Geoff’s basement. He had a bunch of shows coming through there before we even thought about any band. Just growing up in New Jersey, being able to be around music and seeing shows constantly, was huge. That’s literally the reason why we started to be band: just to play in that fucking basement.

Frank: Honestly, the thing that carries through so much about that state or the tri-state area is work ethic. You know what I mean? There’s so many fucking bands. There are so many musicians. There are so many opportunities to get out there and prove yourself. When you get up there you better be good because there are 100 other motherfuckers trying to take your spot.

Tim: Yeah!

Frank: That’s the thing. It’s a competitive but also incestuous place where everyone plays with everybody. Everyone kind of cuts their teeth around the same time. You can’t not be serious because if you’re not then get the fuck out of the way. We’ve got a lot of people out here that are trying to make this shit work and are really serious about it. You could go to a local show and see 10 fucking amazing bands that will blow your mind on a fucking Wednesday! That was Jersey.

Tucker: Or on a Thursday [Laughs].

Frank: Or on a Thursday, this is true! I’ve got to tell you, half of those shows that I went to go see, that I snuck into see, had Thursday playing and they blew my goddamn mind. It made me want to be in a band. I wanted to do that. I loved being out there and watching it, but I needed to be up there doing that. That’s what keeps coming through.

Absolutely. I love New Jersey. I’m originally from Rhode Island, actually, and I love that state with all my heart, but in Rhode Island a show will come through once a month if you’re lucky. Then moving to Jersey over the last four to five years, every night there is something! Even now in 2022 there’s a DIY basement show you can go to every night. There’s a venue show every night. Amphitheater shows every night. There’s always something. Something in the air in and around Jersey makes the culture so strong.

Frank: And what’s cool too about those shows is it’s not just one genre. You go see a show there’s a ska band playing with a folk artist or a hardcore band playing with this punk band. That’s my CD collection – it doesn’t make any sense, it’s just great music. You get exposed to so much. It just changes you and changes your whole world view.

As artists, that’s what it should be about. You want to listen to music that just makes you feel something. It doesn’t matter if its metal or hardcore… I see that a lot in the hardcore scene. It’s like, “Oh, that’s not heavy enough.” It doesn’t matter! It’s just got to be fun! Do you like it or do you not like it?

Frank: There’s going to be gatekeepers and assholes everywhere. I get it, too. When I was young I had a very strict set of rules of how punk rock should be. You know, the punk rock God sitting on the couch at home in his mom’s basement.

Tucker: If we followed the rules this record would have never been written, because we would have all quit music like everyone said to do and gotten real jobs. Starting a band is definitely not what you’re supposed to do in a global pandemic, especially when your industry is dying.

Frank: It’s true!

Tucker: I think by following the rules, this never would have happened. All of our bands never would have happened if we followed the fucking rules.

youtube

Even what you’re saying Tucker, every one of you guys already have a massively successful band. You don’t need to start this, you want to. It serves no logical purpose to start L.S.Dunes, but thank God you guys did it. Thank God it exists.

Tucker: Every person in this band… it’s like having a loose tooth. You keep playing with it. That’s what we want to do. Staying sharp, writing songs is important to all of us. Staying sharp practicing our instruments is important. So when you can practice your craft but also write songs to challenge yourself, then this comes out of it, it’s ridiculous. How the fuck did this happen?

Frank: Yeah, I think that’s the thing: you have a collection of lifers and not just, ‘punk rockers’ or ‘scene guys.’ You have a collection of musicians that just love the craft. What goes into making a song, what goes into starting a band, what the aesthetic is going to be behind it? All of that is such an art form. It can be lost in a digital age where everything is immediate and you have a thousand discographies in your pocket that you never fucking listen to. It’s a lost art form. That lost art of creating from nothing… man, that’s what I grew up on. My dad was a drummer, my grandfather was a drummer. They were musicians, they talked about gigs and creating all the time. That’s how they connected. I needed to learn that secret language or be a part of that secret society in order to connect with them. That’s kind of where I cut my teeth.

Absolutely! You talk about that creativity and that art form. I also think that shows in the album, Past Lives. This doesn’t feel like 11 singles. This feels like a record. Listening to this album start to finish you hear every track fitting in where it belongs. That might just be the way I personally picked up on it, but was that an intentional choice on the band’s part?

Frank: Absolutely.

Tim: I think that we put a lot of thought into every song so as you go through it’s almost like sculpture. As things present themselves, there’s obvious places that they should fit. I think that as certain songs came about you kind of get a feel for which ones work together either musically, lyrically, or a combination of the two. At a certain point, once we realized we were able to write songs, they happened very easily – not to say it was easy. You want to put yourself in a position where you’re creating an album. The way that music is right now, you listen to one song from one band and then you make a playlist and you listen to just mixtapes all the time. I think that when we were getting into music initially, the thing that grabbed me wasn’t individual songs but fully fleshed out albums. I think that’s how we all approached it and that’s why it worked so well.

Tucker: At the same time I also feel like we never were saying, “This record needs this song.” You know what I mean? Because there was never really a record to begin with. We were just kind of writing songs together and at a point it was like, “Ok, these all work together.”

Tim: We realized early on that if we tried to force something, it wasn’t meant to be. If there was an idea that got put out and it didn’t grab everyone’s attention, we didn’t say, “Oh, fuck that song,” but we moved onto something where we could harness that creative spark. I think that translates in the songs.

It goes back to what we were saying earlier about how even if you make this really cool riff, but it doesn’t fit the song, it just doesn’t fit the song. As you guys said, it’s all about the greater purpose of the art.

Tim: Absolutely, yeah!

Another question I need to ask you guys is about your very first ever show at Riot Fest. Actually, Frank, that’s where I met you for the first time. What a crowd that was. That was insane.

Frank: I wasn’t expecting that.

For the first ever show as a band and with zero hype in terms of leading up to this, it was just the first show. Then droves of people were right in front of you. That’s got to be a crazy experience for the band.

Frank: It was. Nerve wracking? Absolutely. It’s also realizing that you feel good about that – good about what you’ve created. We had one song out! You know what I mean? I’ve played Riot Fest at 1:00pm before and there wasn’t that many people there. There’s something about this band and about what we’re doing right now that feels special. Something bigger than any one of us is going on. So, yeah, we got out there and I was like, “Oh my God – I was expecting 20 people,” and it’s more like 2,000. It was amazing… a great feeling.

Tucker: We’ve never over-thought anything in this band, from the songs to the album to the album art to anything like that. Everything was kind of immediate. Riot Fest was symbolic of that in a way because we did play at one in the afternoon. We woke up and we didn’t have time to think about it. It was immediate, “Ok, let’s not overthink it. Let’s get up there and play the songs,” and that really worked into our favor. We didn’t have time to freak out.

Frank: It’s true.

Tucker: Low stress!

Tim: Speak for yourself! [Laughs]

Tucker: But imagine having all day to think about it? Imagine that! Imagine playing at 10 at night and thinking about it all fucking day.

Frank: Yeah… I did that [Laughs].

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It’s rewarding to see, as you said. We’ve talked about fan reception, but it’s true – seeing this in real time? The crowd right there in front of you? It validates everything you guys have worked the past two years for. That’s why the live shows are so important. That’s why we missed it in the pandemic. You can hear studio takes, but experiencing a song in that setting and seeing it the way it was meant to be? Seeing Anthony jump into the crowd and scream? Seeing all of you guys in tune? It’s another experience, it really is.

Frank: It totally is. Like we were saying before, at that point, I think only one song was out. The crowd went off like they knew every single one. That’s a really rare thing. I’ve been around this block quite a few times. That doesn’t happen. It just doesn’t happen. I’m very, very thankful and in awe of what we experienced… and continue to experience, really.

Of course! First off, I want to thank you guys so much for taking time out of your day to talk with The Aquarian for this cover story. We really appreciate all three of you sitting down with me to push this record and your shows. My final question for you today is about this record songwriting wise. It’s very unique because I feel like it switches between hardcore-style fast, very melodic parts, and extremely rythmic parts. It does it very seamlessly, too. When you’re writing a song, do you almost have two different ideas that you Frankenstein into one? Do you naturally slow it down?

Frank: It really depends on the song. Usually it starts with a riff, right? I think it’s usually either mostly bass riffs or guitar riffs. Then goes to Tucker and then Tucker usually will flip it on its head – it’s crazy. Sometimes the beat comes in and it’s like, “Oh, man! The one is here now. That’s not where I thought it was going to be. That’s fucking awesome!” It makes your brain think in a different way. You have five different guys that are all songwriters, and it is really difficult to be both a bass and a drum songwriter. I don’t know if you’ve been in a band, but I’ve never been in a band where the drummer or bassist kind of crafted songs in such a wild, rhythmic, and melodic way. Everyone is writing catchy melodies. That’s one of the things I love so much about Tucker’s playing: there’s these catchy melodies within the beats. It’s just another earworm that happens.

Tucker: Awww.

Frank: It is true! I’m not saying it because he’s holding the phone [Laughs]. That will happen and then it will come to Travis and me and it’s like a mad dash who gets there first. We’ll start to put riffs on top – now, at this point, we were writing and there’s no vocals. You’re just kind of writing and seeing how a melody feels and it if it could be something that could latch on. Then we’ll have a verse and somebody here is like, “I think it should go here.” We’ll copy and paste drum beats so that you can get to a chorus and we’ll write that chorus bit on top of it and then send it back to Tim. Tim’s really good about arranging chorus, verse, chorus, verse like that. Then we send it back again and play over it again. Finally we go to Anthony and say, like, “What the fuck? How did he find a melody in all this shit that we put on here?” That’s really how the first half of the record was written: just kitchen sink, everything goes in. Then we started to subtract from there and really fine tune what supports the melodies and what supports the song. I don’t know, we just happen to write really well together. It shouldn’t work but does.

Tim: Yeah, it was really crazy. There would be parts where we would say, “Hey, here’s drums, bass, and guitar. It’s just a verse.” Then you would send that out and be like, “I don’t know what’s going to come back!” For “Grey Veins” and other songs, Frank would just be like, “Oh, I don’t know, but how is this for a chorus?” It’s like obviously a yes, too! It’s awesome! Like we keep saying, we do our best to inspire each other. I don’t want Frank or Tucker or anyone in the band to feel like there’s a filter and they need to say, “Ok, well this is already happening, so let me dial it back.” We really try to foster everyone just being as absolutely creative as they possibly can. Somehow all of our voices kind of fit together which is very bizarre and rare and gratifying. [It’s] beautiful and it’s great.

Frank: We have no idea, basically!

Tucker: All of that is completely accurate and I have nothing to add.

It goes back to how you guys have no expectations for or from this project. No one even knew it was existing. You don’t have to worry about the radio single. It’s just, “Ok, how can I add to Tim’s part? How can I add to that drum fill that Tucker just did?”

Tucker: That’s that youthful spirit we were talking about earlier. When we would add, we would try to do it as fast as possible. “Get this part done so somebody can do the next part!” That gave it that off-the-rails, kind of nervous energy of just trying to get your dudes psyched.

Incredible! I know a lot of side projects are a one-and-done kind of thing. With the reception that this record had, you all are going to keep pushing forward, right? I know the record just came out, so it’s still very fresh, but are there any future plans for L.S. Dunes?

Tim: We’re always writing.

Frank: We have a lot of stuff.

Tim: We have so many ideas going.

Tucker: I’ll be honest, we all love this record so much, but it’s old news to us. We haven’t begun to scratch the surface of what we’re capable of.

FOR INFORMATION ON SOME OF L.S. DUNES’ FIRST SHOWS AND LOCAL TOUR DATES, CLICK HERE! THE SUPERGROUP COMES TO ABSURY LANES THIS FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, FOLLOWED BY PHILADELPHIA’S FIRST UNITARIAN CHURCH ON SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 26, AND BROOKLYN’S MUSIC HALL OF WILLIAMSBURG ON TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 29!

#ls dunes #frank iero #tucker rule #anthony green #tim payne #the aquarian #lamb shirt #melissa shirt #Youtube #travis stever

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hot-chocolate-on-a-rainy-day · 10 months

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Endless Possibilities

At some point - people have theorized - every thought will be written, every plot executed and every opinion expressed, but not today. And I think maybe even not ever.

It is easy to look at the world as so sophisticated and complex, but the challenging part is to find meaning in the most minute things.

For instance, a rock. A small plain boring rock with no value, no fancy gem or polished shine. It's a rock and the proud never dream it could be anything more. But on this rock can be carved something truly substantial. You just need the eyes to think of it. A birthdate. Death date. Quote. Symbol. Image. The rock doesn’t even need to have an engraving, it could just be a gift or a worry stone. It doesn’t matter because something can be irreplaceable to someone and worthless to another.

It all depends on perspective.

Now let's revisit my first thought - check back if you don’t remember but I can’t promise I won’t judge you for it.

Of course there are similar stories and ideas, but the reality is that no two people are exactly alike. Just like everyone’s DNA and fingerprints are unique, so is the perspective on the world around us. Someone’s attachment to something small, such as that rock, can influence their life as well as their work. This means that there will always be more thoughts to be written, plots to be executed and opinions expressed. No one can put a cap on free will. Once before the past was the future and eventually the future will be the past.

This is the exact reason why I love art and reading. Artists sprinkle pieces of themselves into their work and as readers or consumers, we can connect with them in a completely different way. We know their thoughts and feelings, as well as their deepest fears and greatest desires.

Two years ago, on February 28, 2021, I bought 2 CDs of music and artists I had never heard before. In total, I paid one dollar and nine cents. Just the thought of someone pouring their heart, soul, and mind into this music had me inspired. Every person has felt that way about something they have done. I also wanted to give this music a better home than the dollar bin at Vintage Stock.

So, after I bought them, I rushed home to find my CD player.

Now there were only two ways that this could have gone. I could have despised the music or artist and turned it off without a second thought… or I could have found something I’ve been missing in my life and cherished listening to the albums I took a chance on. It's a leap of faith. That’s all it was. I think the risk of the unknown was the most appealing aspect of this adventure.

Fortunately, the CDs I bought weren’t scratched beyond repair - that was something I was worried about - and I can report that the music gave me feelings I could never describe in words alone.

That music reminds me of the library and the security it brings me, just like wearing noise canceling headphones. Books stacked on shelves, thousands of pages and thousands of life times. Happy fables and sad tragedies woven together on the same shelves. A low hum of computers running and the smell of ink sits in the air.

Needless to say, I continued buying CDs of artists I had never heard of before and I landed on my favorite album and song from the bunch.

Notwithstanding by Chalk FarM

In particular, my favorite song on this album is “Live Tomorrow.” Where the entire theme of the song is ‘living tomorrow’ because there is no time today. The best thing is to go listen to the song yourself before we continue, but here is a verse that stands out to me.

“I can't take the time, but I plan to when I'm done

I can't waste the day, nothing ventured, nothing

I don't think it's wise, to be idle when you're young

Oh, I have to go, I'll have time to live tomorrow.”

We live in such a fast society where it is expected to know exactly what you want to do with your life. Our expectations are for people to be successful almost immediately or they have somehow failed. This causes the mentality seen in the verse above. It's sad to say, but the speaker in the song never learns his lesson. This song reminds me that even though there are deadlines and appointments to make, we still need time to spend with the people we love. Above everything else our loved ones should be the most important to us, through our actions, not just words.

Buying these old, battered CDs taught me a lot. Art can be found anywhere, not just the museums. I want to revisit the perspective that people have on art, as well as the world around them. This was one of the first points that I touched on. I’m not really talking about the perspective as in a view aspect where something is very close or far away. I’m talking more about perspective as in attachment to the things around us. Every single person has different attachments so the details that they might highlight in their designs would be completely different. The interpretation of these works may result in an outcome that is different for every person.

I feel like art also has the opportunity to teach us the important lessons in life. Right now, time will never stop ticking away. Although, I don’t want it to because it only gives the opportunity for artists to create their own masterpieces. Of course, there will always be similar themes but that doesn’t stop unique aspects from peaking their way through the similarities.

Just as a line on a graph gets closer and closer to an asymptote, it still never reaches it completely. That is the concept of infinity. In the same way, art and plots and music can never run out of ideas as long as humans exist to create and experience life. The future is uncertain, so I guess all I can add is that your guess is as good as mine.

This was my entry for a Creative Nonfiction writing challenge I participated in. I finished it on March 5, 2023. I didn't win ofc but I tried :D

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