#got a message from an acquaintance rhyming my name a few days ago

[pajama-sam420]

One thing about me is, no matter the situation, Ive blocked for less

#got a message from an acquaintance rhyming my name a few days ago #blocked #someone told me I looked better in a different hair colour #uni friend didnt do their half of the assignment #you wouldnt believe how fuckin peacefully i will die on this hill

[themurphyzone]

PatB Nova Ch 6

Ch 6: Eccentricity

AN: Loved some of the PatB shorts more than others (You know my eternal hatred for THAT one). But that’s a story for another day. I’m sticking to the 90s versions of these characters though. For now. I might have a gander at the reboot versions someday. You never know!

Ch 6 FFN Link

April 22, 2015! Narf! You’ll never guess what happened, Mickey Mouse. I met the Brain! Well, I’ve only known him for about four months, or less than two days, depending on how you wanna look at it, but if anything happened to him, I would make myself watch Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender!

Tomorrow, I’m going to the mall and buying a hat. Can’t root for Farfignetown (I have to ask her how she spells her name!) at the Derby without a super fancy hat!

Love,

Pinky.

PS: Tell Minnie I said hi!  

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky stepped back to admire his handiwork, the tip of his blue glitter gel pen pressing under his chin as he leaned against it. He did his best to copy Brain’s messages, but he was probably gonna have to write only the first letters only in the future. He didn’t want to take up the entire calendar page again.

His ears twitched at a scraping sound behind him. The sparkly gel smeared against his fur as he turned around, leaving a blue streak across his chest. Egad, if he continued to cover himself in the stuff, he’d look just like one of the Blue Men!

Brain pushed a heavy textbook across the counter, finally stopping underneath a light panel on the ceiling. Then he flipped it open, climbed up, and began to read.

It wasn’t the same book he’d started reading after they’d shaken hands to seal their new friendship either.

“Whatcha reading, Brain?” Pinky asked, slinging the gel pen over his shoulder. “I thought you were reading about jeans! So, find anything good? I think I like the flare type best. Skinny jeans make me chafe.”

“I have no idea what you’re blathering about, Pinky,” Brain said, not looking up from the page he was on. His head shifted from side to side as he read on, and Pinky imagined a giant, fluffy marshmallow making the same movements.

His stomach growled, and a marshmallow dinner sounded heavenly. With cheese fondue and rainbow sprinkles and a light dollop of whipped cream on top…

Wait, no, no. The kitchen didn’t have Gruyere cheese! Processed American cheese wouldn’t provide that proper creamy texture at all.

What kind of host was he? Unable to serve proper cheese fondue to his alien guest?

Then Brain hopped off the book, growling to himself as he pushed up on the hard cover and the few pages he turned. The pages slid into place, but he wasn’t tall enough to get the cover to close the entire way.  

“Do you need help, Brain?” Pinky asked. He dropped the gel pen and grasped the cover’s edge, but Brain smacked him sharply on the wrist, forcing Pinky to let go. Pinky flicked his wrist, and the sting quickly disappeared.

“Don’t patronize me! I can get it myself!” Brain snarled. He pushed on the cover again, and it rose a couple inches in the air, only to land against his fingertips. He growled and spread his feet, jumping as he pushed on the cover once more. This time, the cover slammed into the pages with a heavy thud. “Your sources of information are woefully lacking with your livable yet rudimentary conditions. Penumbra had a much better database, and it’s been dilapidated for a long time.”

Pinky had no idea what dilapidated was. Probably something to do with laps though.

“Oh, well if you need more reading material, I’ve got just the thing!” Pinky said, motioning for Brain to follow him over to a tiny side table where all the magazines were stacked. “Let’s see, we’ve got Vogue, National Geographic, Reader’s Digest…ah, here we are! This one’s my favorite out of all the Zoobooks! Lots of pretty horses to look at. Zort!”

Pinky thumbed through the magazine until he found his favorite page, which had gorgeous art of a white horse running on grassy hills. “This one’s my favorite,” he said as he pressed the magazine into Brain’s hands. Brain nearly went cross-eyed just trying to look at it, but he held out his hands and pushed the pages back until they weren’t so close to his face. “I named her Pharfignewton after Pharfignewton! Isn’t her mane just the flowiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Including or excluding your mind in that comparison?” Brain asked. He closed the magazine and set it on top of the stack. “Your choice of reading material is peculiar, but I suppose brushing up on this planet’s ecology wouldn’t hurt.”

Pinky grinned. “If you think those are good, remind me to show you David Attenborough’s work sometime! His documentaries are amazing!”

Brain tilted his head, his antennae bobbing with the motion. “You’ve mentioned someone named Pharfignewton multiple times. An acquaintance of yours?”

“She’s not a quail, Brain. She’s a horse, of course!” Pinky laughed at his little rhyme. “Oh right, I’ve never showed you pictures of her, have I? Where are my manners? Anyway, I left them in the cage. It’s right this way! Or left this way. I can never tell which.”

Pinky ran back to the cage and squeezed through the bars, Brain trailing behind at a much slower pace. As Pinky slid his right leg through the bars, he realized just how dirty the cage was. There was a small puddle by the water bottle, and straw was scattered all over the place. Crumbs littered the floor around the food bowl, and his wheel had a stain shaped like a pomegranate.

It just wouldn’t do at all!

“Sorry for the mess!” Pinky called to Brain, who was watching him curiously from outside the cage. “I didn’t know I’d be having a visitor today!”

But Brain didn’t seem to care about the mess. Instead, he prodded the locked cage door.  

“Nicholas and Mr. Button, you’ve gotta wake up and help me clean!” Pinky said, shaking them frantically from where they were tucked into the straw. “Narf, you two were up talking late again, weren’t you?”

They were too asleep to respond though.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you sleep for now, but tomorrow I’ll be going over proper cagesitting behavior with both of you,” Pinky sighed. He carefully rolled up the photo of Pharfignewton he kept near the straw bed, hugging it close to his body as he slipped through the bars again.

“Pinky, those are inanimate objects,” Brain said, bending a paper clip until it was completely straight. He poked one of the sharp ends and winced.  “They won’t respond to you.”

“They’re real life objects, Brain. They’re not animated,” Pinky said. “Whatcha doing with that paper clip?”

Brain pressed his ear against the cage door, carefully maneuvering the paper clip into the lock. It slipped a quarter of the way in before Brain yanked it out again, his eyes darting around the room as if something would swoop down on them.

When nothing happened, he went back to inserting the paper clip. “Nothing to disable here. There’s no alarm system on the door,” Brain said, turning to Pinky. “I thought you were squeezing through the bars to avoid triggering it.”

“I’ve never had an alarm before. Do you think I should get one?” Pinky asked. “Just so nobody tries to burger my wheel or water bottle? Hmm, what would a burger with those ingredients even taste like? Not very appetizing, probably.”

Brain only stared at him, the paper clip almost slipping from his hand in surprise. “Don’t tell me the only reason you haven’t used the door is because you can’t unlock it.”

Pinky nodded. “Okay. I won’t tell you the only reason I haven’t used the door is because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to unlock it.”

Shaking his head in dismay, Brain reinserted the bent paper clip until it was halfway in, then turned it clockwise (or was it counterclockwise? Pinky always got them mixed up).

“There,” he said, letting the door swing open. “Now you can enter and exit as you please like a civilized mos.”

“Egad, that’s brilliant!” Pinky stepped inside the cage, then back out. In and out again, and again, and he almost started dancing the Hokey Pokey, which would’ve been a whole lot of fun, but Brain still hadn’t seen Pharfignewton’s photo!

Now that was a real tongue twister there!

“This is Pharfignewton, Brain! Isn’t she pretty?” Pinky asked, pressing the photo into Brain’s hands.

The photo had been taken two weeks ago, when her owner had hired a professional to photograph Pharfignewton as she sprinted around the field. Pharfignewton had given Pinky her personal favorite, one that showed her hooves flying through the air and her gorgeous mane streaming in the sunlight. She was having the time of her life, and she couldn’t have picked a better photo to give him.

“There’s certainly an uncanny resemblance,” Brain admitted. “And the size discrepancy between you and her is incredibly blatant. Not to mention the species difference.”

Pinky crossed his arms. “Oh, don’t be so intolerant, Brain. She’s big cause she’s a horse, and I’m small cause I’m a mouse. But we make it work.”

Pharfignewton would be gone for the next two months, possibly more when she achieved the Triple Crown. It would be lonely, but he could manage.

“You mentioned she was far away when I interrogated you.” Brain set the photo down, smoothing out a corner though it didn’t have any wrinkles.

“She’s still on the road to the Derby, I think. Can’t really get in touch with her though. Phones are kinda tricky with hooves, you know.” Pinky said. “She’s wanted the Triple Crown her entire life. So that’s why I gotta make a giant hat and root for her when she races!”

“I don’t understand how a hat factors into all this,” Brain said.

“Zort! I dunno,” Pinky shrugged. “You can’t have a Derby without horses, hats, and My Old Kentucky Home. Otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a Derby then, would it?”

Brain folded his arms. “I’m currently debating if I should take your words at face value or not. Your customs make no sense whatsoever.”

Pinky thought they made perfect sense, and cents, and all of the five senses really, but his stomach growled and that thought was soon forgotten. Brain never had Earth food before, had he?

Definitely a job for a genetically altered Earth mouse to show him the ropes!  

But first, Pinky had to clean the gel off his fur. It was starting to clump into spikes, and that wouldn’t do at all.

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky rinsed himself in the sink, sticking out his tongue to lap up some of the cool water as it trickled out of the faucet. Thankfully, the gel hadn’t settled into his fur and was very easy to wash away. And flicking the water around the sink with his tail was loads of fun too!

Brain stayed on the outer rim, pulling on the stopper and handles by the sink out of curiosity. He edged closer to the stream of water, almost touching it with a gloved hand, but decided against it. But he wouldn’t stop staring at it either, like he’d never seen water in his life.

Maybe he hadn’t?

The moon was made of cheese and not water after all. Water would make the cheese all soggy and mushy and wash away the cheesy taste that made cheese so delicious.

“C’mon, Brain! Poit!” Pinky pushed his fingers together, trying to send a squirt of water up to Brain, though it missed his nose by a mile and landed on a small crumb on the slope of the sink instead. “The water’s just fine!”

“I’ll have to decline your offer, Pinky,” Brain said. “My information about water is rather lacking, and I’d rather not cover myself in a substance without knowing more.”

“I guess water would leave the moon cheese not very tasty to eat, huh?” Pinky asked. He braced himself and shot out of the tiny waterfall, and he was very glad for all the focus he’d put into leg exercises recently, because his running start was enough to get him over the rim on his first try. “Well, all you need to know is that water is wet, it splishy-splashes all over the place, and it’s fun to play Marco Polo in!”

Brain didn’t look convinced though. He removed one of his black gloves and touched a puddle, rubbing the water between his fingers curiously.

Pinky turned off the water, then dried himself off with a fluffy towel. He double checked his chest to make sure the gel was completely gone and patted down his fur.

“This way, Brain!” Pinky called, jumping off the counter and onto a spinny chair. The seat twirled around for a bit, making him slightly dizzy, but it was all in jolly good fun. Brain carefully climbed down, gripping the drawer handles and moving slowly. He slipped on the last handle and landed awkwardly on his right leg. He grimaced for a moment, his nose scrunching up rather adorably. “Blueberry bagels and cream cheese, here we come!”

“Your sustenance on Terra, I assume?” Brain asked. He followed Pinky through a corridor and into the kitchen, his large head turning every which way to take in all the sights of ACME Lab. Now that it was daytime, there were more colors than just shadowy blue. Pinky wondered if Brain would try to name the colors he saw. Pinky tried once, but there were just too many pretty colors streaming in from the window pane above.

“They aren’t consonants, Brain. They’re delicious and all, but they wouldn’t fit with the alphabet. A little bit of a mouthful, don’t you think? Poit!” Pinky climbed up the cherry-print towel hanging on the refrigerator door like he’d done a million times before. He braced himself against the fridge door, pressed his legs against the handle, and pushed with all his might, feeling that familiar strain of his stomach muscles.

The door opened with a satisfying pop. Breathing heavily, Pinky tumbled more than he climbed down the towel, landing on the cold floor of the refrigerator.

“S-surely there has to be a more e-efficient way to open a door than your method.” Brain’s teeth chattered together, his ears flattening to avoid the sudden chill. He took a few steps away from the open fridge, his arms folded in front of his chest. “Is it a-always this cold?”

“Oh, I haven’t even opened up the freezer! If you think this is cold, you’ll really feel like a mousesicle in there! But it’s worth it if you wanna get to the strawberry ice cream with the cute little mini spoons! Maybe some other time though. Right now, it’s important to get a daily serving of cheese!” Pinky exclaimed as he pushed two small tubs of cream cheese from a middle shelf. They each landed on the floor with a thud, and Pinky jumped down and retrieved them, closing the fridge door behind him with his foot.

Brain sighed in relief as soon as the door was closed, his arms dropping to his sides.

“They keep the blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer,” Pinky said as he led Brain out of the kitchen and into a room that had been marked with a yellow and black caution sign. The bagels were so delicious they even had to warn everyone to take caution! “Oh, now that’s a tongue twister. Blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer. Boobelly beige by the baguette warmer...oh, that’s a toughie. I’ll work on it.”

The bagel warmer was an oddly shaped toaster, with lots of wires and bulbs sticking out along the sides and top. It even had a conveyor belt running through it, but Pinky thought it made this toaster really unique among toasters. Why, he’d even been toasted in this toaster himself! Though it wasn’t as much fun as crispy pieces of bread made it seem. He just remembered a lot of smoke and electricity. And there’d been a lot of narf inside too.

Pinky set the tubs of cream cheese on the floor, then climbed up to the conveyor belt, which was propped on metallic cylinders.

“This is so much easier with two mice!” Pinky crowed. He peered down at Brain, who curiously poked at a red wire on the floor. “I don’t mind eating bagels by themselves, but there’s something about toasty bagels that just warms the heart!”

“If they’re truly that delectable, I suppose there’s no harm in trying it,” Brain replied.

“Did your file thingies say anything about Earth food?” Pinky asked. Because Brain sure didn’t seem to know much about tasty things.

Brain shook his head. “The Selenians didn’t bother with information about the lifestyles or cuisine of Terrans. It was irrelevant to their cause.”

Oh. Pinky tried to imagine being an alien who didn’t know anything about cheese, but came up blank. He’d eaten cheese and food pellets his entire life. He couldn’t imagine a world without them.

“Pinky, are you aware that machine is also apparently a gene splicer?” Brain asked, pointing to the letters along the side.

ACME GENE SPLICER AND BAGEL WARMER, it said.

“So it does. But the only things that go in are bagels and lab mice. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone try to splice a pair of jeans. Oh, that reminds me!” Pinky snapped his fingers. How could he have forgotten something so very important? The silly machine was on the gene splicer setting! Pinky pressed a conveniently labeled button that said ‘press here for bagel warmer setting’. How nice of the scientists to label their stuff!

He was so glad he discovered that before sending the bagels through. The gene splicer setting would’ve made the bagels extra crispy, and while Pinky didn’t mind, extra crispy bagels were a taste one had to get used to first. Nope, it was better to start Brain off lightly!

“Can you please get two blueberry bagels from the bag, Brain?” Pinky pointed to a bottom cabinet where the bagels were kept, grinning at the new tongue twister he’d come with. Egad, he was good at this! “They’re the tan circles with a hole and blue specks in them! Kinda like a donut, except without the frosting and sprinkles. Zort, Brain! You’ve never eaten donuts, have you? Oh, I am definitely making a list of foods you need to try!”

Pinky hopped onto a tall table and neatly tore a paper towel off its roll, then laid it flat on the conveyor belt. Following Pinky’s instructions, Brain retrieved two bagels from the cabinet and passed them up to Pinky. Brain still seemed rather confused about the gene splicer and the bagel warmer being one and the same. Pinky carefully separated each bagel so that he had four half-bagels with the inside lying face-up and arranged them on the paper towel so they would all be nice and toasty.      

Then Pinky realized he’d forgotten another thing. Namely, that he didn’t know how to turn the bagel warmer on.

He scratched his head.

That could be a real issue.

“Pinky, do you actually know how to work this machine?” Brain’s voice sounded oddly strained. Pinky turned around. Brain was hanging onto the side of the conveyor belt, his legs wrapped around one of the metal cylinders. He’d tried to climb up himself, but his arms were too short to get a proper grip, and if he leaned over anymore, he’d fall right on his chubby head.

Pinky reached over, grasping Brain’s wrists and trying to haul him up, only for Brain to be resistant to help. He wouldn’t budge, his wrists feeling oddly tense under Pinky’s hands. His pink eyes were wide and apprehensive, pointed ears flattening against his head.

“Brain?” Pinky said. “I’m just gonna haul you up. Could you relax a bit please? It’ll be much easier.”

Brain didn’t move for a second, searching Pinky’s eyes warily. Pinky just gave him an encouraging smile. Brain looked away, his brow furrowing, but some of the tension left his wrists.

Pinky pulled him onto the railing of the conveyor belt, Brain’s feet scrabbling in the air briefly before settling firmly on the metal.

“Thanks,” Brain muttered. He walked over to the various buttons and levers, examining each one curiously.  

“You’re welcome, Brain!” Pinky brought one hand to his forehead in a salute, only to remember that Brain was an honest-to-goodness alien, and probably didn’t know that particular gesture. So Pinky tried to make the Vulcan salute instead, but it was kinda tricky with only four fingers instead of five.

“This is very intriguing,” Brain breathed, pressing his face against a small closed window that offered a look into the gears and wires within the bagel warmer. “Yes, pure lithium power source, proton accelerators, and automatic anti-inertia capabilities? The use of nanoplasmic charges leaves a lot to be desired of course, but to have the rest of these things in one machine at your fingertips…”

Pinky didn’t understand anything Brain just said, but the alien’s fingers were twitching in excitement, his nose smushed against the glass. It was the first genuine smile Pinky had seen from the alien since they first met, and Pinky thought it looked really good on him. Even nicer than the jumpsuit, which was already really fashionable. “If you figure out how to turn it on, that would be really great!” Pinky grinned. Brain pulled down on a nearby lever, and the conveyor belt began to move. “Egad, brilliant!”

“The lever was labeled, Pinky.” Brain waved him off, pointing to the word ‘on’ stenciled next to him. But his head tilted up and his chest puffed out too. He seemed to like that word a lot. “Wait, you figured out the machine was on the wrong setting, but you can’t turn it on?”

Pinky shrugged. “It’s not really my type, Brain.”

“Never mind,” Brain sighed, the tips of his ears turning as red as his nose. He turned back to the machine window. “I want to observe this process.”  

“Me too!” Pinky exclaimed, and he hopped over to the window, smushing his nose against it just as the bagels were swept into the machine. Blue electricity sparked and jumped all around the metal structures inside, and the glass warmed beneath Pinky’s hands.

It was a beautiful sight, and Pinky licked his lips as the bagels crisped from the heat.

Beside him, Brain watched the electricity intently, murmuring a bunch of smart words Pinky didn’t understand, but definitely enjoying the show too.

Within several minutes, the bagels gained an extremely nice golden brown crisp, and the conveyor belt moved them out of the bagel warmer. Brain pulled the lever up and the conveyor belt stopped moving, the thrum of the machine beneath their feet slowly fading away.

They weaved around long, multicolored wires as they made their way to the other side, where the bagels awaited them.

“Troz! Looks positively dee-lish!” Pinky exclaimed, poking at one of the bagels. Firm and flaky, just how they were supposed to be. His mouth watered in anticipation.

“The scent alone is quite appealing,” Brain agreed, taking several sniffs of the bagels. “I’ve never smelled anything like this before.”

Pinky grinned at him. “Oh, just you wait, Brain! The real magic is just starting!”

Sliding down the cylinders, Pinky retrieved the two cream cheese tubs they’d left on the floor and passed them up to Brain one at a time. His lower leg strength had improved a lot in the past few months, and it was easy for him to hang on while he passed the tubs up.

“Show-off,” Brain grumbled as he took hold of the second tub.

Pinky just laughed as he fetched two plastic knives from a drawer and carted them back to Brain and the bagels.

“Here you go! Bon appetit!” Pinky said. He gave one of the plastic knives to Brain, who gingerly ran his finger across the toothed edge as he examined the flat, see-through handle. “Oh, be careful with those, Brain. You don’t wanna cut yourself.”

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said. “We have knives on New Selene. But I’ve never seen one with this particular material before. And much duller too.”

Pinky peeled away the cover of a cream cheese tub, drooling over the gorgeous smooth white surface inside. Brain copied him with the other tub, pulling off the cover completely. The alien took off his gloves and sniffed the cream cheese a few times, swiping one fingertip through the cream cheese. Then he tasted it.

Brain’s eyes widened immediately, his antennae perking up. He licked cream cheese off his fingertip four more times before he realized Pinky was watching him. Brain ducked his head and fiddled with his sleeves.

“That was…even better than I anticipated,” Brain admitted, his voice full of wonder.

“Aw, you don’t have to be embarrassed if you like it, Brain. I’m glad you think so, cause blueberry bagels and cream cheese is my favorite. Well, so are food pellets. And marshmallows, especially the puffy kind. And smiley face lollipops and…poit! I have a lot of favorites, it’s so hard to choose just one! Zounds, mac n’cheese too! You really need to try mac’n cheese, Brain! That one’s definitely going on the list. Anyway, if you think the cream cheese alone is good, try this!”

Pinky dipped the knife into the cream cheese. Once he got a good coating, he spread it across the surface of the bagel, took the largest chomp of the combined food he could manage, then swallowed. It went down a little rough, but it was delicious all the same.

“Scrumptious!” Pinky exclaimed. “It’s like a party in your mouth!”

Brain copied his actions again, and while he preferred to rip off chunks of the bagel and slather cream cheese onto smaller pieces, his enjoyment of the food wasn’t any less than Pinky’s. He made some funny ‘mmm’ noises in the back of his throat, his eyes closed in bliss as he worked his way through the first half-bagel.

Pinky started on his second half, licking cream cheese off his lips. This was a nice way to spend the evening.

“Brain, you’re welcome to share my cage if you’d like,” Pinky offered. “Mi cage es tu cage, you know.”

“Are you sure, Pinky?” Brain swallowed, thumping his fist against his throat to make the bagel go down. “I know we’re in a mutual partnership, but I wouldn’t want to impose in your living space.”

“You’re not imposing,” Pinky said. “Besides, plenty of unmarried people share living spaces these days.”

Brain was silent. He continued spreading cream cheese across a small portion of bagel, even though it was completely slathered at this point.

“Snowball and I were in neighboring cages. Aisam had to be housed alone because of their inclination towards territorial aggression. We had separate quarters for the journey to Terra as well.” Brain nibbled on a corner of his bagel. “Point being, I’ve never shared a cage before.”

“Sharing is caring,” Pinky smiled, finishing the last of his bagel. “Besides, it’s one more new experience for both of us. Isn’t that just dandy? I just hope Mr. Button and Nicholas didn’t leave too much a mess.”

“Very well. But we’re moving that sponge bed I slept on last night into your cage. It was much less aggravating for my back than the usual fare,” Brain said. “So…thanks for that, Pinky.”

“You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky replied, rubbing circles into his belly, his hunger satisfied.

Beside him, Brain seemed satisfied too. And there was nothing better in all the world than sharing blueberry bagels and cream cheese with a new alien friend.

AN: OK this one’s more of a breather chapter since the last 5 were like wham bam nonstop stuff for the characters. Sorry it took so long to get this one out. Next chapter will have Pinky finally getting his hat and Brain’s first mall excursion!

#pinky and the brain #patb nova #patb fanfiction

[shadowsof-thenight]

Where our story begins: Chapter five

Story summary: This is a victorian era AU Home is where our story begins, but how does one know where home is? 


Julia has a good life. A calm life. She really doesn’t have much to complain about. That is, until a handsome stranger steps into their home in the country and all that calmness seems to disappear instantly. Who is this man that seems to terrorise everyone with his haughty ways?


Ship: Bucky Barnes X OFC-Julia

Warnings: Angst

Words: 5048

***

A/N: I want to apologise for taking this long to write another chapter. I’ve been struggling with finding the right tone with all my stories. Hopefully I’ll be better from now on. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

And as always, feedback is appreciated!

If you wish to be tagged, let me know!

And a special thanks to @gnomewithalaptop​ for the amazing help provided! I am beyond grateful!

***

Masterlist                                          

Story Masterlist

Julia sat up in her bed, her heart hammering in her chest as she glanced around the deep darkness that surrounded her. She could hear another stumble from the adjacent room, and she sprung up and ran towards the sound. She worried that her father had gotten up once again, stumbling in a feverish haze. Afraid that he would hurt himself, she moved quickly with the hope that she could get him back in bed before that happened. The length of his sickbed frightened her, and his feverish ramblings only increased the feeling. In her haste, she had forgone both slippers and a robe, but she didn’t register the cold as she ran—she was too focused on getting to her father to give it any more attention.

As she reached the room in which her father still resided, she noticed the door was standing ajar, and an eerily familiar feeling stopped her in her tracks. Soft voices wafted through the nearly invisible crack, and relief washed over her at the realisation that someone had already reached him. The feeling of safety was cut short, however, when she recognised the voices. Confused, she stepped closer, curiosity peaking now that she knew James was with her father. Why would he be? And why did he spit his words out? Dit he have a reason to be angry?

Quietly, she tried to push the door open a little more and found that the large space was lit by a single candle. It wasn’t enough to give her a clear line of sight, but she could make out two dark outlines next to the bed. James towered over her father, and she tried to remember if he had ever seemed quite this tall. Her father seemed to cower in his presence, confusing her even more. She had always known him to be a proud man, standing tall through any ordeal. There was no rhyme or reason to the sight before her, and she stood still as she tried to decipher the scene.

Their voices weren’t loud enough to carry their message to her ears, but their tone was clear and she could’ve sworn that her name was mentioned once or twice. But that wasn’t what got to her—it was the secretive behaviour of them speaking in the dead of night that chilled her to the bone and kept her body frozen in the doorway. She knew she had to do something; tell them to go to bed, or perhaps she should just leave—but her feet wouldn’t move and her mouth was too dry to speak.

Then James finally appeared to lose his temper and he stepped even closer to her father, the grimace on his face crystal clear despite the lack of light, and his finger poked the older man in the chest.

“You know what I’m capable of.” The words were spat and there was a menacing tone to his voice that Julia had never heard before. Her heart clenched in fear and she wanted to help her father, defend him.

“My apologies, sir,” her father whimpered, and her heart skipped a beat at the broken sound. His use of sir surprised her; they were of the same rank, not to mention acquaintances—there was no need for such a formality.

“I will need payment eventually,” James said, his tone softer now. He appeared tired now, suddenly defeated and Julia’s head reeled from the sudden change.

That was the moment her limbs decided to listen to her brain again and she stepped into the room, moving towards her father. James’s head shot in her direction and before she could worry about her state of undress, she stopped dead in her tracks over something else entirely. His eyes weren’t the icy blue she had gotten used too—they were bright red. 
A scream died in her throat as she stood there, while he moved in on her with unbelievable speed.

***

Sitting up in her bed, her breath ragged and her heart beating wildly in her chest, Julia wondered if she would ever get a full night of sleep again. Exhaustion was dragging her movements, but the nightmare had reared its head every single night these past two weeks. She didn’t really understand why they happened, nor why James’s role was so dark in them—he hadn’t done anything to dignify it. The red eyes were a new addition, however, and though she blamed it on the novel she had recently read, she prayed for the night where the dream would disappear.

Bringing her hands up to rub her face, she was surprised to find tears on her cheeks. Quickly, she swiped them away, a tad angry at herself for letting her emotions run ragged. With a deep sigh, she turned towards the window, and despite the heavy curtains that hung before it, she could tell that it was still dark. Wide awake and unsettled, she moved towards the candle on her nightstand, lighting it swiftly.

Julia was cold, a chill set deep into her bones that even the multitude of blankets could not challenge. The horror of her dream had set ablaze her heart, and the sensation was strange when combined with the chill, as if, her body could no longer decide what to do—cool her off or warm her up. Rationally, she was well aware that it had only been a dream, but the knowledge did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. She hoped the light from the candle would help. In the weak glow, she tried to refocus her brain by identifying all the shadows in her peripheral.

It wasn’t working.

The shadows dancing around the small light seemed far more frightening than ever before.  As if they were hiding figures that meant her harm. Eventually, after recounting all items in her room, she gave up trying—getting up instead and moving around her room, to see beyond the shadows. It was just her and her furniture—there was nothing there to scare her. Again, her frayed nerves weren’t listening. With another deep sigh, she sat down in a chair by the fire, pulling a thick blanket around herself. She doused the candle, afraid to cause a fire if she was lucky enough to fall asleep, and stared into the dancing flames of the fire in her hearth. It was slowly dying, but it still gave off just enough heat to provide a battle against the cold inside of her.

Julia tried to convince herself that nothing was amiss. Her father was sound asleep in the room next to hers—she could hear his snores through the wall. James had beautiful blue eyes, not red ones and he wasn’t some monster from her novels. He might have been crude upon his arrival, but he had not been cruel or intimidating after that first night. The only person he had been angry with was his valet, and the young man hadn’t seemed to mind one bit. He was still full of smiles. She knew her dream had no validity in reality, even if the fear proved hard to shake.

Her heartbeat finally slowed and the shaking in her limbs was brought back to a minimum. The dancing flames had a lulling effect as she stared into the smouldering hearth, and since she was far too old to hide underneath the blankets of her mother, she settled in the chair—ready for another sleepless night. Blanket pulled high up to her nose, she leaned against the chair and spent the rest of the night on the balance between sleeping and awake.

***

Still exhausted, Julia wandered the large garden behind her house, letting the cold winds wake her up. As he had done every day since their first walk 15 days ago, James joined her. He noticed she was uncharacteristically quiet and he observed her posture, as she stared at the grass they walked on. He didn’t need to see her face to know she wasn’t sleeping; he knew the signs all too well—he was just not certain how to address the issue. Carefully, he inquired how she was doing, not wanting to push any boundaries—that was more her forté. When she shrugged it off, he prodded gently; confessing that her demeanour appeared different, quieter, which she could not deny at the moment, though she hadn’t been quiet before this morning. If anything, she had spoken more, about silly things, anything to fill the silence, afraid that comfortable silence would lull her to sleep. And though she tried to deny his claims, he wasn’t relenting, gently pressing the subject and she silently cursed his observing nature.

“I am good, perhaps somewhat fatigued,” she finally offered after a few more moments of that dreaded silence, combined with his unrelenting stares. He was concerned and it was nice, even if she wished he would not see through her facade.

She glanced up at him to find him pondering his next words. They kept moving through the carefully crafted garden, passing the same bushes for the third time, when she went left instead of right and led him into her favourite part of the garden—the wildflowers. It was was less structured; her mother had thought that wildflowers deserved as much, and silly as it might have been, it was where Julia felt most comfortable. It reminded her of the fields through which she rode her horse sometimes.

“Have you been worried?” James asked after a while and she wondered why that would be his first guess. She nodded, admitting it for the first time and he sighed. He wished he knew how to help her.

“How did you know?” She asked finally and he smiled, a real smile, one that reached his eyes. He still rarely displayed them, even if it made him quite handsome. The fact that he bestowed it upon her warmed her heart, it showed his empathy so clearly. His uncaring attitude was just a facade, she knew now. And it made her wonder what had him hiding from the world.

“It happens to me as well,” he said with a shrug, trying to play it off as unimportant.

Julia was intrigued by the little peek into his psyche that he offered her, and she stopped walking to look at him. He seemed uncomfortable, though he didn’t hide behind the uncaring mask again. She understood he was baring himself for her and she didn’t want the moment to end just yet.

“Do you have many worries?” She asked bravely, standing just a little too close to him.

James sighed deeply as he stared into her warm eyes, the emotion behind them inviting him to bare his soul. It wasn’t something he was used too, and it scared him more than he liked to admit. He had already been more vulnerable with her than he had been with anyone else in a very long time, and it felt unreal and also a little dangerous. Trusting others had often proved to be a far too risky endeavour.
Not that any of it truly mattered in this moment though, for he had no clue how to explain his deepest darkest thoughts to her. It was impossible to explain the exhaustion that settled deep inside his bones, making every movement of limbs a little harder each day. It had been months since he’d had a good night's sleep, and he was afraid he might’ve forgotten what it was like. But more than that, there was too much weighing on his mind, and the exhaustion from that was more difficult than physical tiredness could ever be. There seemed no reprieve for the worry that settled in his brain, a constant companion now, and he wished once more that he could finally go home.

Home was where he knew the people, all the nooks and crannies of the place he lived in. Home was where there was trust and he hoped that it would be where he could finally close his eyes again. He hoped the tense muscles would finally find a way to relax, to unravel the knots in them. He hoped that he would be able to turn his mind off, if only for a little while. He needed it so desperately that he could feel it in his nerves. How does one convey such a message? Especially without telling her of his biggest worry—the secrets that her family kept from her, the ones he was here to reveal.

Upon seeing the emotions pass through his eyes, Julia unconsciously stepped closer to him, willing it to ease his pain. The ruffles of her skirt brushed his ankles and his heart beat just a little faster as he realised how close she was. Worry for him shone clear in her eyes as she regarded him, and he wondered what words were burning on her tongue—certain that she was fighting the urge to speak freely. Still, she did not press, didn’t urge him to share his secrets; instead, she just looked at him with care. And just like that, her mere presence made him wish to tell her. He suddenly wanted to share his burden with her, even though he knew he should not. They were still in the process of getting to know one another, she had no loyalty to him. Besides, if she found out why he was here, she’d turn from him. Perhaps she’d even despise him, and he was certain that he couldn’t handle that after opening up to her.

He took a steadying breath and opened his mouth, uncertain of what to say, but knowing that she deserved some elaboration. After all, she had been open and honest with him as well. He was saved the trouble when hurried footsteps could be heard approaching and Julia was suddenly aware of the close proximity in which they were standing. Quickly, she stepped back, a deep crimson blush spreading on her cheeks and neck. The sight was so lovely that James fought to urge to steal a kiss. Clearing his throat, he took another step away from her, creating a safe distance.

Julia couldn’t meet his eyes, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves, bracing herself to face the rest of the world again. Whatever connection they had made was now gone, and the few steps between them suddenly seemed far greater than it had before, and she wasn’t sure what to make of her feelings about that. She was confused and needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Just then, Mary reached them—out of breath and radiating a happiness that was infectious.

“Sir Alexander has arrived!” Mary happily exclaimed, excitedly moving in place.

Momentarily forgetting about her worries, a big bright smile broke out on Julia’s face. She knew Mary was as fond of him as she was. He had a highly contagious demeanour that pulled people in. It was a rare occasion in which Alexander did not smile and spread his merry humour. People were often instantly enamoured by the man, and Julia was yet to meet anyone that disliked him. The closest they had come, was when an elderly family member had confessed to needing the calm that left the room as soon as Alexander entered it. But even that man could not deny the likability of Alex.

Jumping in place and clapping her hands excitedly, Julia was unable to restrain herself not that her eager waiting was over. She would finally be able to hug him and his beautiful wife. She glanced back at James, who stood even further from her now, and he smiled as he watched the joy spread through her like lightning. He nodded almost imperceptibly, silently agreeing that this was the end of their walk and their conversation. She returned the gesture, before taking off—hastily walking towards the front of the house where she was certain he would still be getting off the coach that had brought him to her. James and Mary followed her at a slower pace, though they were not too far behind.

“Julia!” Alexander called out as soon as she rounded the corner that brought her to the front entrance of the manor and she smiled brightly as she caught sight of the tall, blond-haired man standing by his coach.

Alexander had been directing his valet, but he quickly halted his actions upon seeing his sister. He took quick, large strides towards her and pulled Julia into a tight embrace as soon as he got close enough. Her feet quickly left the ground and he twirled her through the air, laughing loudly as he heard his mother gasp at the display. He always did like toeing boundaries. Julia giggled happily at his antics, playfully slapping his chest as he put her down.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” he exclaimed dramatically, stepping back from her and taking in her appearance. Julia shook her head—it was part of his charm to never be without a compliment. Often people waved it off as mindless flattery, but Julia knew better. Alexander was bad at lying; he only complimented people he cared for. After all, he had been taught the same lesson as she was by their grandmother; ‘don’t speak harm.’ All her grandchildren had taken it to heart.

“I’ve missed you!” Julia said, still smiling brightly—her worries suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago. They would surely resurface in a short while, but she would enjoy the reprieve. It took her a moment, but she finally remembered her manners and turned towards the man that had been in her company previously.

“James,” she said and beckoned him closer, “This is m—.”

“Bucky!” Alexander spoke over her. “Good to see you, my friend,” he exclaimed and Julia glanced between the two men in confusion, as they greeted one another with a familiarity that was usually reserved for close acquaintances. James’s smile equaled that of Alexander in brightness and she could not help but smile as a light ignited in his blue eyes.

As she watched them quickly catch up on the latest news, Carolina snuck up on her, and Julia was quick to hug her close, making sure to let her friend know how much she had missed her companionship. Carolina was a good five centimetres shorter than Julia and compared to Alexander she looked impossibly tiny and frail. Julia knew that it was only appearances, as she knew few people as strong-minded as Carolina. It was her spirit that Julia most admired.  She stood her ground, adapted easily to new situations and she could counter Alexander in stubbornness.

“It is so good to see you,” Carolina returned the sentiments with a bright smile.

“Carolina, let me introduce you to Lord James Buchanan Barnes,” Alexander said as he guided the man towards his wife. “We went to school together.”

The short sentence had been enough to understand the situation, and soon enough, Julia remembered mentions of a Bucky on the weeks that her brother came home from his studies. She had simply never made the connection to James. Who would have, she wondered. After all, Bucky was a far cry from James.

The greetings on the front lawn had been happy, though short as Josephine soon ushered everyone inside for tea. And Julia relished in the stories her brother provided as they sipped their beverages. She understood once more what her elderly family member meant when he had mention the loss of calm. It had been a while since the sitting room had been quite as noisy—though she would not complain.

All too soon the moment ended, however, and the group split up. After given the newly arrived couple time to change out of their travelling clothes, everyone had business to attend too.  Josephine went back to supervise the dinner preparation, James and Alexander locked themselves in the library, asking not to be disturbed, and Julia and Carolina went up to the rooms of the married couple—getting them situated.

***

Carolina was incredibly curious about James, having heard plenty of stories about the man. Apparently, Alexander often spoke highly of the camaraderie he shared with the gentleman. Her interest had also been sparked by the lack of information in Julia’s letters. Open as their relationship was, Carolina had expected to have heard more about the houseguest.

Julia truly did want to inform her, though she was hesitant. The interactions between her and James had been strained at the time of the letter, but they had improved ever so much since then—would she do James a disservice to speak ill of his earlier behaviour?  Eventually she relented; her kind sister-in-law would not judge someone on old mistakes, nor would she share what was spoken to her in confidence. And so she told Carolina of his strange and sometimes rude behaviour upon his arrival and his subsequent apology to her mother. Julia also talked about witnessing the scolding of his valet, though she confessed not knowing the reason behind it, as well as the fact that it did seem that the valet, Peter, did not take the words to heart—his smiles hadn’t once faltered.

Julia went on to tell Carolina about their walks, how their conversation had slowly deepened and got more comfortable. She neglected to speak of her bold and improper questions during their first walk though. She also kept their last conversation to herself—it seemed too personal to share. She was also still trying to figure out how she had felt about emotions it had stirred in her. So she kept her recount more factual, even as she realised how she had come to like their walks, his company, and their conversations. It occurred to her that his presence had a calming effect on her, his smart mind alluring and the kindness he bestowed on her had been heartwarming. If only she could ignore the tension with her parents, he would have been quite the suitor.

She was so caught up in her own musings that she missed Carolina’s knowing smile. Carolina recognised the look on Julia’s face, but she knew that the younger woman might not be ready to recognise her feelings. James clearly intrigued Julia, in a good way. Carolina had felt similar upon meeting Alexander; she had wanted to know more of the man, know him. And when she had, she had fallen in love. Carolina wanted the same for Julia, because in her opinion, there was nothing more beautiful than love.  

Mentally shaking herself, Julia then continued to tell Carolina about her biggest worry; her father’s continuing illness and ensuing feverish rantings. She still didn’t know what to make of it and Carolina had not words of wisdom to share on the subject either. George had always been the picture of calm and poise. The rantings were out of character and it shook them both.

“It must have been the fever speaking,” Carolina said, wishing to comfort Julia. “He might’ve read a story that influenced his words.”

“Indeed, perhaps that was it.”Julia smiled, as eager to accept the explanation as Carolina had been to offer it.

To break the undeniably tense silence that followed, Carolina turned the conversation around—wishing to analyse exactly why James accompanied Julia on her daily walks, wanting to know precisely what words were spoken.

Julia grinned, spotting the teasing nature of Carolina’s questions and wanting to match it. Therefore she said that the walks were often spent in silence, which Carolina was unsurprisingly not willing to accept. She knew Julia too well, silence wasn’t something she did very often. Her mind was too quick-witted, and never at rest. Upon meeting someone new, she would have questions, wishing to know people and to understand their behaviour.

****

When the sky turned to shades of pink and orange, Julia made her way down the stairs in her second-best evening gown—with the large number of guests, she suddenly wished she had not worn her new blue gown on James’ arrival. It would have been a perfect fit for the night. The red dress was gorgeous in its own way, but in Julia’s opinion, it paled in comparison. The wide hoop skirt was certainly less comfortable. The wide neckline was similar, though the cut of the dress placed more attention on the waist—the lace applications deftly pointing towards it. Still, she was confident enough as she made her way down the stairs.

The company had expanded with the arrival of her cousin Clint and his wife Natasha, her uncle Lord Philip, and their neighbour Lord Brock Rumlow. As always, Lord Rumlow made a spectacle of greeting her, pretending to be far more familiar with the family than he was—Julia tried her best to be gracious, even though it made her uncomfortable. During the last dinner where Lord Rumlow had accompanied the family, he had worked tirelessly to charm Julia and Josephine, but it hadn’t felt right. Julia had not been able to truly explain it, but her mother had easily accepted it, choosing not to push Julia on the subject—for this Julia had been incredibly grateful.

Seated between James and Alexander, Julia spent much of dinner questioning James about her brother’s antics in school, and Alexander had jokingly threatened his friend to keep quiet. James in turn would lean close, telling her stories in hushed tones, pretending to break his promises of secrecy. Julia couldn’t remember when she had last laughed this often, and she was thoroughly enjoying herself. What really surprised her though, was the lighter side that James had chosen to portray. The tension so often visible in his shoulders seemed to have been lifted as he joked with Alexander and herself. She liked this side of him, he seemed gentler, kinder, and far more approachable.

“Lord Barnes, how are you enjoying your stay in the country?” The voice of Lord Rumlow boomed through the room, swiftly drawing the attention of the entire party.

James stopped his retelling of his first experience with Alexander’s stubbornness mid-sentence and stared at the man across from him. All conversation at the table stilled; people were curious about the visitor. The rest of the people in the room had known each other for years, some even their whole lives. It was to be expected that he would be questioned. James had prepared for it, so he placed a gentle smile on his face, ready to answer the myriad of questions that would likely follow.

“Quite well. It’s beautiful here, and Lord and Lady Fitzgerald have been very hospitable,” James replied. His voice was soft, gentle and calm.

Julia smiled at his kind words and looked at Lord Rumlow, expecting another question—she was surprised to see his smile turn into a glare. Apparently that had not been the answer he had wanted. Confused, she awaited what would be said next.

“Indeed, they are,” Lord Rumlow stated, offering a curt smile before adding, “And when will you be travelling onward?”

The tension that had dissipated from James’s body quickly returned at the impertinent question, and Julia suppressed a gasp while her heart skipped a beat. Her father’s knife clattered against his plate and everyone in the room fell silent. If either of her parents had asked the question, it would have been considered a thinly veiled attempt at telling him that he had overstayed his welcome. Lord Rumlow had no right to implicate this. Julia was just happy to know that her father had been bedridden and had not been in contact with their neighbours—this would ensure that this crudeness could not be blamed on her parents. Lord Rumlow knew the implications of his words—he had spoken them deliberately—and Julia wondered what the response would be.

A proper host would intervene and answer in lieu of their guest, reminding them that they were most welcome—and yet her father hesitated. Julia assumed that this was due to his recent illness—this was his first dinner since then. Therefore she glanced at her mother, only to see Josephine stare between George and Lord Rumlow with shock evident on her face. Perhaps her mother was too kind-hearted to react swiftly; she wouldn’t have anticipated such behaviour. Julia instantly knew that neither of her parents were ready to parry the implication.

“Not for a while yet, we hope.” Julia spoke, too eager to come to James’ aide to consider her words. “We’ve quite enjoyed his company.”

Next to her Alexander cleared his throat—the sound was surprisingly similar to a repressed chuckle and Julia’s eyes grew wide as she realised the implications of her words. From her mother it could’ve been seen as a compliment to his character. From her, it could also be interpreted as a confirmation of their courting. It was not what she had meant, and she had not wanted to put James in the position it put him in. Lord Rumlow’s eyes darkened as he regarded her and her breath got stuck in her throat.

“Indeed, we have,” Josephine agreed with her daughter, eager to assist in defending their guest.

“As have I.” James smiled kindly at Josephine. His shoulders relaxed a little bit and he leaned back in his chair as his gaze returned to Lord Rumlow across from him. Julia admired his rapid change in attitude, she wished she could have followed it—but her shoulder remained incredibly tense.

The silence that followed those words lasted mere moments, though it felt much longer and the tension was so thick, Julia could almost cut it with a knife. She struggled to find a subject to break the silence and hoped that someone else would quickly do it.

“James, could you perhaps tell me more about your home? I’ve heard such wonderful stories of its beauty,” Carolina finally asked, a sweet smile planted on her kind face.

Relieved, Julia let out the breath she had been holding, the tension finally easing in her shoulders as Carolina quickly eased the conversation into clearer waters. The air soon seemed lighter again as her question prompted several more and conversation flowed freely once more.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x OFC #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #MCU fanfiction #james Buchanan Barnes #Where our story begins

[eurosong]

My ESC 2019 ranking

Hey there, folks - after a lot of deliberation, I’ve decided upon my ranking of this year’s songs. I feel quite passionately about this year’s field, as always, and make some trenchant remarks, but a lot of them are tongue in cheek, and no shade is intended on those who like the songs I don’t or vice versa. Here’s my ranking with my thoughts on why I put each song where I did.

41. Croatia – The Dream I try to find a redeeming quality in every song, but sometimes the task proves impossible. This ironically-named nightmare of a track sounds like a poorly-produced early 00s track that tried to straddle the line between classic and futuristic and failed at both. The usual things that I hear in its defence are that Roko has a good voice, and that the Croatian segment is better. To the first point, maybe, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that the voice doesn’t shine through the scream mode of most of the song; to the latter point, if you know some BCS, you’ll know that the Croatian language bit is as cloyingly cliché as the English part. Some people are saying that this could be a surprise qualifier. If that happens, I will shed tears of blood.

40. France – Roi If France don’t change their national final system to equalise the jury and televote more after this year, I don’t know when they will. Destination Eurovision had a bunch of good songs, but thanks to the power of a Youtuber’s fanbase, one of the least remarkable and most cloying songs got the nod instead. Roi is an unabashed hymn to self with the most criminal franglais abominations (rhyming beaucoup with boo, really?) to which I’ve ever been subjected.  Now it’s supposedly got a chance of winning thanks to a gimmicky staging, which I feel uses people as props. I wouldn’t even mind the antipathetic performer and cringey, self-centred lyrics so much if the tune were interested, but it’s equally empty and pompous.

39. San Marino – Say na na na Well, this song certainly does get me saying nah, nah, nah. I do not get the amount of good will for it, as I neither find it a good track, nor enjoyable ironically like Who we are or Chain of lights were. It’s a “party track”, but the party in question is the kind I want to flee where the food is bad, the music is obnoxious and overbearing and the ambiance is that of an uncomfortable throwback. Bewildering how this is considered a worthy qualifier.

38. Moldova – Stay I swear Eurovision has songs like this just to be able to detect extra-terrestrials, because if anyone says this song is their favourite, and they’re neither Moldovan nor Romanian, then it confirms to me that they are aliens because this is banality writ large. Three minutes of contradictory and cliché rhymes (“it’s now or never, it’s forever”. Ok then mate), dull music, little progression, an oddly unpleasant vocal and even a staging that comes second-hand.

37. Finland – Look away My impulse is to look away from this song indeed – a dated slice of repetitive, oddly downbeat despite being uptempo EDM slathered with a simultaneously overwrought and undercooked social message and brought to us by an uncomfortable duo who look like two acquaintances whose fishing trip got interrupted abruptly and they had to cook up a Eurovision song last minute. There is nothing about this I like at all.

36. Israel – Home The one faintly interesting thing about this song is the remarkable wailing in its first few seconds, but they removed even that. This has to be one of the most maudlin songs I have ever heard, delivered gratingly. A friend of mine nicknamed Kobi the “Joystealer”, and the name is very apt. I feel like all the joy in the world is out of reach when listening to this lament, which is syrupy and bitter at the same time, like a coarse cough medicine. The “I am someone” has to be one of the most cloying lines of the entire year, too.

35. Estonia – Storm Estonia having to resort to sending a croaky renta-Swede to sing a budget Avicii b-side in front of a Windows XP screensaver with lyrics that imaginatively rhyme “this” with, well, “this” is like seeing someone who had always dressed elegantly having to resort to sporting torn, worn, ill-fitting hand-me-downs that were already out of fashion when bought first hand. This land of song and art can and should be doing so much better.

34. Montenegro – Heaven The fact this ironically infernal song is not just not bottom but also almost avoided my bottom 10 just goes to show how deep the bottom is this year. Sounds like Podgorica’s 56th best sixth form choir got some cassette tapes of bad late 90s R&B-lite, got a donation of a dodgy Casio keyboard and, at the last minute, got their granddad to do a bit of fiddling, mixed it all together and the result was this chaötic hot mess on ice. It’s a shame, because these kids seem genuinely nice, and they don’t deserve to be lumbered with the albatross around their neck of this song and the resultant cast iron “last in the semi” result it will achieve.

33. Switzerland – She got me There’s little separating the female attempt at a duego and the male one for me. Luca radiates a smug energy that annoys me more, but the song is a smidgen less generic, but then using the same dancers as from Fuego made the decision easier. I’m not sure what she got him, but it certainly wasn’t a grammar book, as the song is filled with bizarrely affected ungrammatical English, because I guess it’s uncool to properly conjugate.

32. Cyprus – Replay It seems almost self-parodising that Cyprus lamely returned to try to catch lightning in the same jar with a song that is entitled, and feels like, a giant replay. Fuego was an encapsulation of many things I really don’t like at Eurovision – a lyrically empty song with limited musical merit or memorability that got a lot further than it would off the basis, mostly, of staging. This year, the staging is worse and the performer is less charismatic. If it does as well, I will be astounded.

31. Norway – Spirit in the sky What if Aqua came back – perish the thought – and, for their comeback single, took a rejected b-side from the late 90s of theirs in their typical bubblegum style, but injected it with a dreadful attempt at joik and an aesthetic inspired by their newfound animal spirits? It would sound something like this bizarre Norwegian song, whose victory over En livredd mann still bewilders me. It’s a bit infectious, but so are many diseases, and part of the reason that it buries itself into your mind is because of its pretty flagrant lifting of last year’s “Monsters”’ chorus, which in itself was all too familiar. One of the year’s biggest cringefests for me.

30. Lithuania – Run with the lions Take a guy most noted until now for screeching in the world’s worst falsetto whilst pretending not to sing, while a drag act that barely qualified as a baroness let alone a queen wás pretending to sing, also badly. Give him a song that advocates running alongside large carnivores who’d probably find humans an attractive snack. That combination should at least be interesting, but it’s one of the dullest propositions of the year. The only real interesting thing is that dodgy falsetto making a reappearance. It’s pleasant enough but forgotten instantly.

29. Russia – Scream Russia confined themselves to a few fruitless years in the desert with the Samojlova charade, and now they look to return to ESC superpower status by bringing back the guy who won them the public vote back in 2016. Their logic in trying to go one step further, though, was rather flawed. Concentrating on winning over the juries, they took for granted that the public was going to enjoy this rather melodramatic effort as much as they did You are the only one. I doubt they will, and I doubt the jury will be much swayed from last time. Musically, its orchestral touches represent a step up from YATOO for me, but it is let down by the emo lyrics and some bombastic staging.

28. Belarus – Like it When I first heard this song, where “you gonna like it” is repeated approximately 14 thousand times, my first impression was “no, I certainly am not going to.” It’s a bizarre stream of non-sequiturs dolled up with a technicolour assault to the eyes. I’ve softened to it somewhat, in part because of a reimagining of the lyrics as being a call for help after getting drafted into Eurovision by Lukaszenka, but I’ll still be stunned if it qualifies.

27. United Kingdom – Bigger than us I had a Freudian slip a few days ago when writing the “Undo my ESC” post – I wrote “Bigger than us” as “Better than us”. A fair swathe of the year’s field very much is more remarkable than this anodyne X factor winner’s single which seems to be aiming for 19th rather than first. Michael is a likeable character, but unfortunately that doesn’t come across too much in his live performance, most notable for him flapping around his arms as though they were on fire.

26. Iceland – Hatrið mun sigra Musically, there are elements of this that are really up my street. Decent throwbacks are rare, but the 80s’ techno ambience of the track is pretty good. I just wish it were not accompanied with a disdainful hauteur and the OTT attitude of a bunch of sophomore arts students who’ve just discovered irony. The last thing the world needs now is more hate, ironic or not.

25. Sweden – Too late for love Sweden made one step in the right direction this year – they’ve sent a man rather than an overgrown embryo, and someone with a bit more humility than Grosso last year. It’s a much better song for me than the past two attempts, but that’s not saying much – manufactured gospel has little soul, and there’s a charisma chasm here only partially filled by drafting in American mammas to sell the song as something more than what it is.

24. Poland – Pali się This is one that I wish I liked more. It’s middle of the pack for me. I like the fact that there are clear heritage influences but find the song itself to be rather too linear and the voices too shrill – and I am a fan of white voice.

23. Macedonia – Proud I had high hopes for Macedonia as I adored their artist, Tamara’s, imperious Brod što tone back in Skopjefest 2014 – a song that frankly got robbed of representing Macedonia. Where BST was subtle and poëtic in its message, Proud, which I regret wasn’t in Macedonian also, is rather too much on the nose for me and sounds a little like a charity single. This is augmented by the rather basic video which reminded me a little too much of Bebe’s “Ella.” Nonetheless, it’s a nice composition and well sung.

22. Spain – La venda Spain this year had a selection that they called “eurotemazos”. It’s difficult to translate, but Eurobangers, smashes or hits all carry a shade of the meaning. As soon as I heard that, I knew it was an ill omen, and indeed, the list of songs was full of bad attempts at bops and a few soporific ballads-by-computer. La venda was the best of a bad lot. Miki has energy but the song is completely inconsequential.

21. Germany – Sister Germany have once again invited disaster by inviting Chaosmeisterin, Barbara “Wild Eyes” Schönberger back to compère the national final. The end result was this inexperienced wildcard (when will you ever learn, Germany?) clinching the win with two gals who’d never met before this year singing about sisterhood in a group called S!sters with their song Sister. This is hotly tipped for last place in the final, but I feel it has sóme merit. The verses, and especially the bridge, are lovely, and seem to be building to something great – until we get a really generic, squawked chorus where the two non-sisters try to outshriek one another.

20. Australia – Zero gravity I’ll never get over the fact that we could have had something truly Australian in all senses of the word for once, and instead we got this. It’s catchy but repetitive and rather gimmicky, and I lament that it will qualify over better songs thanks to a rather cringey staging gimmick.

19. Belgium – Wake up This truly is a musical coitus interruptus. The moody verses get you in the mood, building a sense of urgency and direction, only for everything to get abandoned without warning with a very dreary, incongruous chorus. “City Lights” this ain’t, and it’s a shame, as it’s still decent, but could have been so much more satisfying.

18. Czechia – Friend of a friend Some countries take decades to find their niche at the contest. It seems like Czechia has found theirs in the space of a year and a bit, and found a particularly narrow niche. Field a cutesy lad with a retro-inspired, somewhat catchy but also somewhat problematic song inspired by infidelity. Last year’s “Lie to me” was written from the perspective of the cheated; this year’s, from a potential cheater who spends half the song listening with his girlfriend to his neighbours having noisy sex and the other half protesting he barely knows the female neighbour anymore. Truly weird.

17. Denmark – Love is forever This song reminds me of one time I was by the seaside and got offered to try a freakshake. It was one of the most OTT sweetest things I’ve ever had in my life. I enjoyed it, but it’s something I could only enjoy on an annual basis. This song is much the same. It’s bringing the Gallic cuteness where France failed, and the fact Leonora looks into your soul unnervingly whilst singing just adds more interest to the song for me.

16. Azerbaijan – Truth Azerbaijan bring a halfway decent song for the 2nd time so far, by my count. This is nowhere as near as good as “Skeletons”, but still strong. I like the atypical lyrical matter and the fact that the Symphonix crew created something contemporary but wearing Azeri traditional influences on its sleeve. The unplugged version of this is even better.

15. Netherlands – Arcade Perhaps I would enjoy this more were it not for the intense amount of hype, the hubristic arrogance of many people in thinking the win is already in the bag, and the amount of condescending barbs flung my way on other corners of the net for not considering this some transcendental masterpiece that deserves to win more than any other song. It’s not in the same league as the oft-compared, timeless Amar pelos dois for me. It’s a nice, heartfelt song – albeit one that relies too much on a head voice that I find rather unappealing – and it has a few clever turns of phrase, but I will never understand why this one has been singled out when there are several songs I consider more moving in this final.

14. Georgia – Sul tsin iare This song has really grown on me. It has an incredible, almost scary intensity and was written on an epic, orchestral scale. It feels like the music to the climax of a war film. I felt what it meant before I understood the Georgian. I particularly love the chorus backing Oto and the staging that matches the song’s drama.

13. Hungary – Az én apam I expected a lot of things from a Joci Papai return, and this song only delivers some of them, but it’s a song worthy of enjoying in its own right. If Origo was fire and had an undercurrent of hurt, Az én apam is water, but is warm in its own right. It’s a nostalgic song with the same poetry I expected of Joci.

12. Latvia – That night Latvia’s song has been criticised for not being very impactful, and it isn’t, but therein lies its charm. It’s a low-key, saudadic effort that beautifully occupies three minutes. It is the kind of track I imagine listening to whilst, and which makes me imagine as a result, driving down a long, lonely road at night in the rain. It’s hushed, it’s delicate, and it sounds to me like petrichor smells.

11. Greece – Better love Greece is sending something very atypical from them, almost as an allergic reaction to doing so badly with the more ostensibly ethnic “Oneiro mou” last year. I’d be disappointed, but this is really quite good indeed, a very professional and rounded effort that has produced a soaring, anthemic song. Katerine’s voice has a beautiful, dark and deep huskiness that imbues a certain quality too. My only problem with this song are the careless lyrics that seem like a compilation of Instagram clichés.

10. Ireland – 22 My dear Ireland sneaks into my top 10 for the first time in a few years thanks to a full-on earworm of a song that has become one of my most played tracks this year. This song is very simple, but sometimes unassuming simplicity is elegant. It’s got a retro, blue-eyed soul feel and is at once nostalgic and catchy. It deserved a lot better than the slot of death to which Björkman consigned it.

09. Malta – Chameleon Malta getting into my top 10 for the first time since 2014, with a song that is even more contrary to our expectations of Maltese songs than “Tomorrow” was. This song is aptly named, as it is an explosion of colour – not just in the clever video, but also, the music itself is so vibrant and fun. The only part I don’t like is the rather cliché bridge, because both the drop-based chorus, the slow build of the verses and the exuberant post-chorus are really good. GIVE ME X I’M A Y is one of the lyrical memes of the year and is infectious. From beige to a rainbow; well done, Malta.

08. Slovenia – Sebi Slovenia are on the money for the second year in a row. Whilst “Hvala ne” was an in your face, high-octane buzz of a song, this year, we’ve gone in the completely opposite direction: a very contemplative, intimate song that imbues a sense of peace and harmony. What they do have in common is some of the best lyrics of the year. In Sebi’s case, the text is graceful in its effortless simplicity and minimalism. It feels like the only thing that matters during those 3 minutes for the song’s performers are each other, which creates a particular atmosphere indeed.

07. Albania – Ktheju tokës When I heard the venerable Festival i këngës, Albania’s selection process, was essentially going to revamp itself, I was worried that it would lose its magic, but in the end, I needn’t have so much. For the second year running, the best song by far won – a song full of dramatic potential. Thank heavens they left the song in the wonderful mellifluous Albanian language and did not dig out the song’s heart with a needless revamp. I hope Shqipëria can keep this trend and momentum up. Ktheju tokës is a heartrending song about immigration and divided families, inspired by true experience, and performed with power and style by the enigmatic Jonida.

06. Armenia – Walking out Another country for whom I have a lot of time at the contest is Armenia, who always tend to bring something different to the show. I was initially a bit confused by their effort this year because of its abrupt stops between different parts of the song which at first sounded rather jarring. Now, this, and the great variation in tone and style between the verses, the gentle bridge and the ferocious choruses are part of what make the song for me. Srbuk has charisma and a fierce set of pipes. All these elements have made Walking out one of the major earworms of the year for me.

05. Austria – Limits The first time I heard this, I was underwhelmed. It’s a nice song, but it is lacking a bit in instant impact. Nonetheless, something about it demanded repeated listens; with each one, my appreciation for this confessional, Kate Bush-inspired slice of heartrending emotion grew exponentially. I am hoping that the live performance will give it the instancy it needs to bring to life how exceptionally good a song this is. It’s up there with the very best in terms of the lyrics. It’s so personal, so intimate, so searing and one of the most underrated tracks of the year. 04. Serbia – Kruna Pretty much everyone who knows my ESC predilections knows I am a huge fan of Serbia. They generally stick with their own language, and bring songs that highlight their rich musical traditions. My support isn’t categorical – I despised “Beauty never lies” and felt let down by last year’s style pastiche, though I felt Balkanika were wonderful contestants – so this year, I was relieved to see them back at the height of their powers with an unassumingly lovely ballad, performed with power and purpose by the mesmerising Nevena. It’s a song of few words, and it feels like every single one was weighed out carefully to pack the most meaning. Delightful.

03. Romania – On a Sunday One of the biggest surprises of the season for me has been Romania. I had no interest in their national selection, and was nonplussed when this won, albeit grateful that it beat two truly dreadful frontrunners. My first impression was that it was an odd but catchy song, and that it was weird and a little funny how the grown woman singing it seemed to throw a tantrum in the middle of the performance. Something about it made me listen again, and again, and again – and then the amazingly theatrical and imaginative video came out, which added to my appreciation even more. It’s a really emotional song, which somehow invigorates rather than saddens me, perhaps because of the bewitching power of Ester’s performance. She delivers this with an unbelievable intensity and has such a singular voice. I fear for its chances because it’s not the most accessible song – but I really hope this will at least qualify.

02. Portugal – Telemóveis I remember my first reäction to this well. I was confused and a little perturbed – it seemed like the rantings of a madman over highly dissonant, if rather bewitching, music. It stuck in my head, though, and very soon, the confusion grew into appreciation and then full on love for probably the most singular, sui generis offering of the entire year. This is a song that sounds timeless but futuristic; that could not have been composed by any other country, but which blends influence of fado with sounds from the subcontinent, the near and far east and what seem to be other planets. The text – all too often dismissed as “lol he’s singing about cellphones, how random lmao” – is a deep, introspective, metaphorical look at mortality that is gushing with saudade. The fact that this, the most forward-thinking proposal of 2019, might not even qualify is scandalous; it should be in it to win it.

01. Italy – Soldi As much as I adore Telemóveis, there’s a song that I love even more. The first time I saw Soldi performed live, it was like a punch to the gut in the best possible way. This song about a deadbeat dad and how money can tear a family apart is just one example of how Italy is brimming with exceptional lyricists. I’d translate some of my favourite lyrics, but firstly, I find every line to be powerfully moving, and secondly, the English can’t quite do justice to the perfectly measured rhythm and cadence of the original as well as the emotion. On top of that, musically, it’s one of the freshest tracks of the year, with super modern production but symphonic touches. Who thinks of making a trap-inspired song, but with an orchestra? Italy, that is who, and I so, so hope they finish this barnstormer of a decade for them with a much awaited win.

#eurovision #esc #esc 2019 #eurovision song contest #opinion #eurovision 2019

[stirpulses]

Off the Memory Lane (ft. B.A.P) [Day 2]

The consciousness hit him when he was lying defenseless in the crook of the couch, his left leg brushing the floor, his back aching from the unwonted softness, the clothes, creased and rumpled, biting into his flesh. The air was huffing past his lips in a fast spasmodic rhythm, his heart exerting itself to outrace it with thrice as fast a beat. The nightmare came again, repelling the pills, tricking his body into terror. This time the vision was more focused: he could distinguish a dark human-like silhouette against a huge white structure, the shadow was staring at him with starving covetous hollow eyes, gnashing its fangs with a sickening clang, closer, closer. A piercing wail erupted, crushing all other sounds and images alike. It was screaming out a name, Yongguk, calling for his friend, demanding for him to appear, a desperate cry for help. Mere bawls were not enough to conjure his friend, he knew, oh how bitterly he knew. The nightmare, that had just been dragging for an eternity, appeared for his awakened self to happen in one great convulsion like an outburst of thunder.

How much of the vision he had actually seen and how much he had been implicitly aware of, he wasn’t sure now. The dream logic had directed that odious show, turning impossibilities the wrong way out. He just wanted it to stop, why weren’t the damn pills working anymore?

Himchan slipped from the couch cursing the doctor and his prescriptions and pulling off his shirt. What was the point of the medicine that failed to serve its single use? Unbuckling his jeans he shuffled towards the bed. But what was there for him beside those pills? He gingerly swept the pillow and the toy to the floor, pulled at the sheets, added the bedclothes to the pile of the sweaty clothes he just striped off. Laundry time! Setting up the washing machine Himchan decided he shouldn’t idle either. The work was tired of waited.

He picked up the laptop from the floor, switched it on and cleared some place for it on the desk with a swift wide motion. Just as his computer welcomed him with an lively sound effect a buzz filled the room. Himchan followed the sound until there was nothing before him but a TV on a stand and a wall. Meanwhile the hum continued. He turned the TV sideways and reached behind the drawers into the dust with an inner shudder. He had never cleaned there, it was a perfect spot for new life forms to develop. Finally, a phone was vibrating in his hand. Daehyun was persistent.

-You ditched us again.

-Ha?

-Don’t tell me you’re gonna miss another rehearsal. — Lighthearted sigh. — Seriously. Enough. Are you showing up next time or what?

-I’ll try. I mean… I’ll come. Sure. — The rehearsal was the very thing, it would be a shiny day to break the rainy season.

-The mourning is officially over? Manse~! — Cough. — Sorry. Hope you’re in high spirits again. We need you, man. We do. — The laughter boomed wide and clear.

-Lend me some of this glee next time we meet, would ya? — Daehyun’s sincere laughter and forward attitude slowly lifted the weight from his heart. He involuntarily smiled.

-No shit, you need it and… can I beat it into you if it doesn’t just seep in by itself?

This time they laughed together.

-Almost forgot! — Daehyun blabbered on. — The lyrics. Have you finished them yet?

-I’m on it.

-Bring them all. Even the roughest drafts. It’s past time we start practicing the new stuff. And, do I need to mention, Youngjae and I are dying to see the lyrics! Bri~ng them.

-Rodger that.

-Cool. Gotta go.

And Daehyun was out. Wait, when should he come?! Had Daehyun simply forgotten to tell him or was he supposed to know? After Yongguk vanished his whole schedule snapped right through the middle and crumbled to an unmanageable nothingness.

The phone screen was flagged with missed calls and unread messages. Too much of them, would deal later. Work was the first item on his list. Or should he really spend a few sweet moments fiddling with the lyrics? Himchan strained his memory to recall what he was writing about. Was it love or war or roofs on fire, it made no difference: if he couldn’t remember, he could always start anew. A wave of inspiration caught him unawares, crushed down on his head, flowed over him, carrying his compliant body to the prolific shores of imagination. The delight of pouring down words, of tasting rhymes, of feeling your way through similes. The work could wait a little more. Should he sketch out a couple of lines, maybe come up with a verse, or even outline a whole song? He would relax, untangle his stupefied nerves- "When Yongguk was wroting his lyrics..." That was enough to turn his enthusiasm sour, metallic and citrus in his mouth, bile and acid in his throat. There was nothing that could bring out stronger memories of his old friend more. That was his passion, the passion for music they shared and cherished together through the years.

Work. Overload his brain with tasks, numb his senses with information, infect his system with busyness. Himchan started by pedantically checking his mail.

It was time for a coffee break. Every employee has a right for a little rest, even at times when the mind remains restless. Also, his legs and back were screaming for some action. Just a quick trip to his usual cafe and an immediate retreat back home. No prolonged stays at the table, no roundabout wanderings across the town, no attention drawn and no civilities exchanged. He would ask for a take-out and walk a couple of leisurely circles round his apartment block until he ran out of coffee. One should learn from one’s mistakes. But it seemed like he was getting all the lessons wrong recently. So should he be trying to learn after all?

Waiting in the queue Himchan surveyed the interior to distract himself. All in vain. Too many vivid memories connected this place to his friend. They used to sit here for hours jabbering about their wishful present, reminiscing about their not less blissful past and planning out their even more hopeful future, so much for that; they had lingered here over many lazy breakfasts, stolen countless quick lunches and toasted non-stop over filling hearty suppers. Sometimes they had just met in front of the cafe, late at night, to squander their youth elsewhere. Was there a table they hadn’t sat together at or hadn’t spilled some beer on?

Gazing at the neat rows of tables he caught a glance of a tousled boy with a mole on the nose bridge who was eyeing him intently through narrow eye slits, from behind a chicken sandwich. The youngster looked vaguely familiar yet he didn’t seem to belong to his usual circle. In any case, Himchan would rather leave the cafe ignored or unnoticed regardless of their degree of acquaintance. He hurriedly turned to the counter willing people to move quicker, gape less and know exactly what they want. Fat chance!

Got hold of a warm assuring paper cup he bolted out of the cafe, eyes scanning the floor, the doorway and the welcoming pavement. He was squinting at the sun when a voice halted him.

-Wait.

It just might not have been for him, he could have pretended not to hear the words in a hurry, he might have but an uncanny pull was already turning him around.

-Remember me?

He peered at the boy, straining his eyes as his brain refused to cooperate. The effort echoed through his head with tentative stabs of pain.

-About a week ago. — A moment’s hesitation. — Police station.

Right, he had seen him among the damn gang that day. Slim and ashen-faced, he had been the youngest, it seemed, still in his teens, a lonely minor in that pitiful bunch. He had been the only one to come with his parents. As well as the only one to show his fear, or was he simply the only one evolved enough to know to feel it in that shitty situation.

Two days after the search started, five days after his friend’s sister reported the disappearance, the cops found out that the missing youth was a part of a small street gang and quickly shook off their lax attitude. That must have turned up the heat under their asses a few notches. His close friends and latest acquaintances had been brought in for questioning.

-Right. That evening. Your whole… group was there.

The boy fidgeted and blurted out.

-I don’t hang out with them anymore.

-Good for you. — He nodded.

-My name is Jongup. I just- There are still no news. And I thought- Heard anything? — He cast a sidelong timid glance.

-No, same here. Nothing.

-I see. — The smirk was bitter and foul-tasting. — I should have known, there are no happy endings. You were close, right? — He didn’t wait for an answer. — Seen you coming to his place a couple of times. Well, I was his neighbor. It wasn’t that long since he moved next door but still… He was always so friendly towards me, attentive and encouraging from the day we met, even though he didn’t have to.

The boy broke the eye contact, his eyes darting between tiny cracks and other imperfections in the pavement. The moment neared, squeezing his throat, drying his mouth till the tongue rustled against the roof.

-At first I was going to join them alone but that day I just happened to bump into him at the stairwell as I was leaving. He looked so down, I realized he was more like me than I previously thought. Later he told about the expulsion, I didn’t know at that time. Seeing him that way, I don’t know, I just asked if he would want to go with me, told what I was up to. Honestly, I had no idea it was that serious. — He turned his voice down to a confessional whisper. — I was just a bit angry, wanted to belong, I needed the change and- I never wanted to get mixed up in this shit… drugs or stealing or… whatever the cops hinted at. — He turned away, uncomfortable, fingers clutching at his hair. — I mean- I only wanted to say- I’m sorry! I feel guilty and dazed and- Relieved! It was an eye-opener. I’ve never seen my life that clearly before. If it wasn’t for him, who knows… And it’s not entirely my fault. I didn’t know, I couldn’t.

There were no befitting words left inside them to share. They met strangers, they walked away feeling more distant. The only link that could have bound them together went missing, leaving a widening hollow to push them apart.

Himchan wandered back home, his legs dragged along, their steps unsure, their goal unknown. His head flared rhythmically with a hot agony of aches and qualms, mutinous thoughts chipping measly pieces off his mind with every other breath. Well-rested and ready for a new working cycle, the headache awakened from its obligatory nap, stirred up by the accidental encounter that in place of a person left a sucked out, chewed and crooked lump of numbing fatigue and prickly sensations. That boy made his heart resonate to so many notes guiding it up and down a minor scale: loathing, sympathy, discomfiture, and simple fear. Muddied speculations on the lad and their conversation were pushed out of his head as the neglected memories of his gone friend resurfaced and rushed into his conciseness.

All the anger and frustration over his friend turning off the road they had chosen together to instead slide down a treacherous slope of disgrace and degradation, resentment boiled inside him with new strength. Right, they even had a big fight on the subject in that gloomy, unkept park not long before the disappearance. They screamed, and pushed, and blamed, and desensitized, and half-awarely hurt each other with rushed words, raw and undercooked. Thankfully, the exact wordings escaped his memory yet the tightening grip around his heart, the carmine blazing voice rasping in his head, and the whole unreality of the damn thing were still with him, as palpable as back then, rancid on the nose. Was it the last time he saw Yongguk? Most likely. At least it explained why he had been drawn to the park the other day.

The monstrous gray bulk of his apartment block loomed above him. The coffee had been peacefully sloshing in the cup the entire walk, untouched. He tasted his mouth: full of chewy worries and regrets. He was full for now. He opened the lid, slowly turned the cup and watched the lukewarm liquid dissolve into dark splotches on the asphalt, so easy.

After the crisp street air the room felt stuffy, instantly sucking his T-shirt and jeans inward, gluing them to his body. He opened the window, a gust of the wind hurried a pile of scraps and papers down from the table. Should have tidied up the useless junk a long time ago, bad luck, always a day too late. A shallow sigh, his back bent over, pecking at a paper after paper, he gathered all the rubbish, even discovering several gum and candy wraps, what a treasure hunt. Standing over a trash can he briefly looked through memos and documents. One by one he tore them and scattered over empty water bottles and frozen food packages. He dazedly lingered over a small handwritten note. “Never do this again. Himchan” The first word underlined twice. So… he had written it, apparently. Why was it still with him then? Had forgotten to give it? Got it back from an angry addressee? Had no time to pass it, or the opportunity, or the courage? All three? And wait, for whom had he written it? What had he done wrong? Could it be-

The phone ripped at the silence, its jingle slammed into Himchan’s thoughts through the wall. He swiftly threw the remaining papers in the junk and scuttled to the bedroom to interrupt the out-of-place merriness of the tune.

-Hello.

-Thanks god, you’re okay and not ignoring me anymore. — Junhong’s voice beamed at him across miles of concrete and steel. A mingy light ignited inside him but it burned out quickly, too frail to withstand the harsh blows of the wind and too deep down to offer any warmth. — You’re with me?

-Sorry. Just dozing off a bit. I’m right here.

-Are you eating well? You can’t live on coffee alone for so long. — Puffy sigh. — Oh, you’re not missing your rehearsal tomorrow, are you? It’s bound to cheer you up. — A huge smile pushed its way through the speaker.

-Yeah, Daehyun called this morning. Made it clear I have little choice but to go. — He suppressed a chuckle. Would it be weird to ask? He swept up together the beggarly debris of his nonchalance. — So, it’s tomorrow then?

A silent question filled the frequency.

-Y-e-s. The contest is coming. You agreed to meet every other day and did, before- Have you changed your mind and postponed the rehearsals?

-No-no. It’s just… My mind’s a bit hazy lately. Don’t mind my ramblings.

-Is this a side-effect of that drug you've mentioned? Have you told your doctor? — Junhong’s voice leaned closer.

-Not a big deal, really. Don’t worry, I-

Statics cut trough the line, just occasional scatters of phrases breaking through from the other side, nonsensical and mysterious. The ragged buzz consumed his mind. Most terrifyingly, he couldn’t tell if it was flowing from the phone into his ear or the other way around. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pinched his nose bridge. A wavering instant on the threshold. The reception cleared.

-… of yourself. Listening?

-Aaa-ha.

-Have the depression deepened again? It is because of that guy, in the coffee shop?

He froze, blood thickened, numbing and weighting down his limbs, lungs turned into a dumb-bell, useless for breathing and too heavy for his chest to hold on to any longer, time swirled around in slow-motion. How? He hadn’t seen Junhong there, so the boy hadn’t been there, couldn’t. It takes some exceptional skills to overlook such a lanky guy, even sitting he sticks out like a sore thumb. And if he knew of the meeting, had he heard their conversation? How much of it? Did he have a hand in the whole thing?

-Junhong, do you know that boy? — Cold sweat traversed his back in short stealthy charges, from one vertebra to another.

-No, never seen him before. So it is what threw you off balance after all!

Either he was going crazy or the world, a humorless fellow it was, was playing a dour joke on him. He was looking into things too much. God, he needed a break.

-Oops, there’s another incoming call. Work. Later.

-Sure, hyung. See-

Tall fierce waves of pain crushed against his temples with every thud of his exhausted heart, cold coils nestled in his throat and chest, entangling and twisting into unswallowable knots. Himchan gripped at the tabletop. It was clearly an overreaction, what a drama queen. That was stupid, it meant nothing, the whole day was a mucky incongruous mess. Or his life a bad dream.

He should get a hold of himself… But how did Junhong know? Icy dew of sweat trickled down his neck sending a shiver through his body.

Work. Just get to work. No need to ponder over mysteries the life was diligently throwing at him. He excelled at forgetting recently. He could use that trick once more. He revived the computer, concentrated on the glowing screen, loud music in the headphones, hands tapping at the keys, stifling a gentle tremor. The night was going to be long.

~UG

#bap scenarios #kpop scenarios #bap scenario #kpop scenario #bap

[djzena]

Prime Halloween Songs 2014

We asked folks throughout the office and on Twitter their favorite Halloween songs for #MusicMonday. That is the extra fun time once you can provide your kids Halloween pencils,little toys or other fun objects. As a former educator and mom of two (ages 3 and seven), this e book captured what Halloween is all about. There is quite literally no Halloween occasion with music that has ever occurred without the playing of this song. There are 18 enjoyable Halloween children' songs for you to scare your little ones with in this category, but we're satisfied there are lots more scary songs on the market we've yet to discover. I am aware these songs may have reached you after your Halloween party weekend, but don't forget there may be still Wednesday night (be careful to keep away from noise violations with increased fines) as well as this upcoming weekend (don't forget to celebrate Day of the Useless for some extra credit), so don't pack away your costumes but! Never thoughts the truth that Black Sabbath are the godfathers of metallic and Ozzy Osbourne is the Prince of Darkness: From a purely musical standpoint, Black Sabbath's eponymous music is diabolical. Hi- I found a really pale piece of paper in my Hallowenn stuf.. cirda 1974 or so. A hand written web page, very pale with the entire Lyrics to the Wobblin Goblin! One other Halloween tune that is been round for many years, this one is nice for youths as a result of the high-pitched, sped up voice of the monster makes him seem lovable, not scary. Halloween Land's delightfully whimsical melody bought a nightmarish rendition thanks to Marilyn Manson. Send over 21000+ Messages & Wishes to friends and family by way of WhatsApp, Facebook! Christmas Songs, Christmas carols, and music for the Vacation Season with lyrics and music to take heed to. Good songs to sing near the Christmas tree. Yeah after all Thriller might be Michael Jackson's hottest Halloween type jingle, however Ghosts is certainly the extra spookier tune. Both mother and father and lecturers will profit from enjoying Halloween songs The songs get your youngsters into the spirit, and interact them. Halloween Rock Band: Ever heard of a Halloween celebration with Rock music?I bet nobody has. Though it considerations the terrifying legendary being that seems throughout full moons, the tune's lyrics themselves are gentle and humorous. In the Netherlands, Halloween could also be a current Anglo-Saxon import, however that hasn't stopped Amsterdam from taking the holiday to its coronary heart, with a energetic variety of themed occasions geared toward all ages. In faculty, Halloween occasion colleges are a very completely different animal than your regular get together college. YouTube has helpfully supplied us with a listing of songs whose views and searches spike excessive above their regular amount every year round Hallow's Eve. Nonetheless, pondering it's charming” might say extra about me than it does about this tune, which is frightening. Many of these songs were not originally for youngsters,” says Kay Vandergrift, Professor Emerita of Kids's Literature at Rutgers College. From adorning the house to creating costumes and greeting playing cards, and completing faculty Halloween tasks, kids can do a lot. And why Marilyn Manson may not be parents' best choice of music artists for his or her youngsters to be listening to, he does an important job with the track and retains it clear. Take a look at Merely Said for a recipe and full directions to make this great and spooky Halloween Celebration punch with dismembered hand! In the event you determine to host a Halloween celebration, there are numerous spooky songs that you'll have to choose from that make your last playlist. The low-key tune is steeped in cinematic horror - its title refers back to the actor well-known for taking part in Dracula within the unique 1931 movie, and Bauhaus performed the track through the opening credits of 1983 horror film The Hunger. Coming soon: Hundreds of new songs to teach seasons, climate, professions, good habits, manners, and many others. It definitely is one of the livelier musical items to have on the list for Halloween as evening music. We start by discussing nursery rhymes typically, and by naming as lots of them as we can. Party music from the rest of the yr's playlists will still be confirmed floorfillers, of course, from your pop classics to chart hits and beyond. Flip a big, hollowed-out Halloween pumpkin into a target for throwing objects. Young kids often go trick or treating with dad and mom or with an older brother or sister. Since we specialize in putting collectively custom playlists for companies, we pulled collectively the best Halloween playlist for a fun and spooky night time out. I too was a bit anxious about how far the halloween theme could be taken but fortunately it was very much toddler pleasant - the costumes aren't scary (see photos within the post). The creepy halloween music went to #2 on the pop singles chart in the US and was certified gold. Entwistle got here up with the music after an evening of ingesting and making up goofy names for animals and bugs with Rolling Stones bassist Invoice Wyman , which could explain why is voice is so scratchy. To capitalize on my boys' love of Halloween (and holidays on the whole), our mommy college actions this month are going to have rather a lot to do with pumpkins, scarecrows, owls, and silly monsters. The first is a recording you could just take heed to, whereas the second is a video that you can watch and see the ESL occasion vocabulary flashcards concurrently listening to the proper pronunciation. My kindergartner LOVES this guide full of acquainted nursery rhymes and fully intriguing new paintings. They're maybe finest identified for his or her version of The Hearse Tune”; a a long time-old, morbid children's track that audiences may know from its inclusion in Scary Tales to Tell in the Darkish. Halloween is arguably probably the most fun holidays of the 12 months, and but, so few appear conscious of the unbelievable plethora of Halloween music. Rockwell had been typically unknown before this large hit propelled them to #2 in the US pop charts. A brand new addition to the Halloween canon, this six minute epic from Kanye West was the high point of his My Beautiful Darkish Twisted Fantasy Opus and featured an all-star guest list, together with Jay Z, Rick Ross and, for some cause, Bon Iver. Of course, there are plenty of different awesome Halloween songs we may have included, but this list consists of a few of the classics and in addition some you will have by no means heard before that we hope you get pleasure from and add to your Halloween repertoire for http://disney.wikia.com/wiki/Frozen years to come back. Three scheming witch sisters are back to attain immortality after their hanging 300 years ago—and they're casting spells via tune and dance alongside the way. Take heed to our high 10 as you ready yourselves to roam the dark and bitter streets!