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saintsofvoid · 3 years

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Psychofans & Mediacorps

(Backstory and lore on some psychofan encounters and the attempted kidnapping of Kerry Eurodyne along with some related events with Johnny Silverhand. Written as a Screamsheet because I was bored, and this all isn’t 100% since actual events aren’t always fully disclosed. Word count: 2976. Sources at the end.)

Being a world famous Rockerboy is really all it’s chalked up to be, doesn’t mean there isn’t its fair share of snags along the way. Fame and glory comes with a heavy price tag many don’t realize as they’re building their way to the top. Blinded by having your name in the lights, seeing hundreds of thousands of fans all eagerly waiting to just get a glimpse of you. Night City Legend Kerry Eurodyne commented, “It’s scary. I mean, to think that one hundred thousand people are selling their souls to see you, and you’ve got them hanging on your every word.” The very fans that would kill for a chance to see their idols live, are the very same that would put them on Trauma.

Not just the fans either. Corporate is everywhere, in everything. Fight the system through lyrics while making them richer all the same. Media giants like N54 and DMS buying up the whole show to beat on their chest about who has the most control. The issue comes with their greed for it, keeping those who give them wealth on short leashes. Best offers, benefits, prestige of having a higher name attached to yours. But when friendship runs deeper than the quick climb to fame, other options of “persuasion” may occur. Aggressive strategies to keep themselves on top, because the company always come first.

We’re going to start this article off on arguably a lighter topic, that being the psychofans. I say arguably because they can do just as much damage as the corporations, but it's usually a bit more controlled. We'll hit on that later. There’s the usual rush security, jump fences, steal an axe, the almost seemingly normal chaotic fan behavior you can expect at most high profile gigs. Don’t lie, there’s always one in the audience.

The sudden rise to fame with Samurai also helped play a part in this erratic behavior, Eurodyne had previously stated, “One minute we’re chugging through our old numbers in some small, no name club to the same crowd; the next we’ve sold out Wembley Stadium and there are a hundred thousand killing each other to get a look at us.” This wasn’t much of an overstatement either. Samurai’s rapid rise to fame took a mere three weeks after signing to Universal Music to reach the number one spot on EuroRadio charts. Everyone wanted a piece of Samurai then, and following the break up in late 2007 that craving didn’t soon die out.

A number of incidents have happened, being on world tours is a crazy place. Never really know how fans are going to act until you’re in the thick of it. Most these incidents happen backstage, after gigs, or just by random chance coming across someone on the streets, in the open. One particular incident was documented in 2020 in the following of Trauma Team’s Rich “Meatball” Cramer M.D., Lifeline Trauma Inc., Night City Branch #23.

Broken card call, 15:55, to the Grand Illusion Dance Hall and Bar. Patient being none other than one Rockerboy, Kerry Eurodyne. Compared to the rest of the logs of the night this was a breath of fresh air for the Lifeline agents, not so much for Mr. Eurodyne who was being assaulted by a gang of young female fans. Teargas was dispensed and our Rocker was extracted from the scene. Kerry was in good health at time of extraction, footing the bill of the call to the studio as well as a new set of clothes. Lawsuits were never charged as the fans left enjoying the chaos.

Another lesser known act back in 2043-44, while performing in Memphis TN an assailant got backstage and put a knife to Kerry’s throat. Intentions of the attack are unknown. Could have been a psychofan making demands of an idol, or someone who knew the net wealth of the name Kerry Eurodyne at the time? Either way the incident ended without bloodshed, Kerry was able to talk the assailant down and promptly knock him out with a stiff pour of that high life tequila. The rest was handled by the venue’s security. Unfortunately events like these are almost common for the stardom lifestyle.

Lives are kept under public scrutiny 24/7. “Be prepared to have your private life open to the world,” Rockerboy, Johnny Silverhand, had mentioned in a column from Advice From the Pros. Name in the lights simply means just that, private life is on show as well and nothing can truly be kept secret forever. Kerry Eurodyne had added, “Cover your ass on your social life, the mediacorps are capable of setting you up bigtime in compromising situations… Make sure you know who you’re hanging out with, and something about their friends.” Not just fans and so called friends you need to watch out for, but the very people you sign yourself away with.

Rockers Kerry Eurodyne and Johnny Silverhand are no stranger to this cold truth. Even mediacorps you don’t sign with will have motives, and often resources, to try and gain a signature. Corporations will often go after the output/input or family of the Talent instead of the Talent itself. However, big companies like DMS, the rival to N54 News, also have other methods to “persuade” a contract breach and change. Both Kerry and Johnny were targeted by this particular company, though this time it was Eurodyne dragging Silverhand into trouble.

After the time Samurai had broken up for good, late 2007 early 2008 Kerry was looking for a decent solo deal. This was a gamble for most Labels at the time, Johnny was the frontman of Samurai, Kerry’s true talent had yet to really flourish into the Legend we know today. At this stage in their careers they were just some new-boy artists, that had a couple songs and albums that made it big. A lot of bands will have their handfuls of top sellers and then disappear into a faded memory. However, media giant DMS saw promise in Kerry, and they quickly came out with an offer for the young Rockerboy that would put him right back on the road to stardom.

Kerry was going to take the offer until Universal came up with an offer that wouldn’t just set him up but Johnny as well. The two decided that the offer Universal had was too good to pass up, and with good reason. Universal not only was packaging the two Rockerboys together as independent solo artists, they were offering a better deal as a whole. Since Universal already knew them from Samurai, and knew what the two could produce, formalities of signing a new band was skipped. Re-signing with Universal gave them guaranteed concessions normally only offered to major bands or superstars.

DMS didn’t come back with a counter offer, they came back with threats. Eurodyne, and those close to him, started to receive threats from the mediacorp, these quickly escalated to hired thugs harassing and assaulting everyone in the Rocker’s inner circle, as well as himself. A common tactic for many corporations to get what they want. However, Kerry wasn’t folding to their pressure, sticking with his decision with Johnny to sign to Universal. At this point the signatures were received and Kerry’s talent was the official property of Universal Music once again. This only made the situation worse, and turned into a rather rare occurrence for the music scene.

Major corporations have a number of outlets that they have at full disposal to get what and whom they want, when they want. DMS is not unique in this fact, but they do have one of the more unique techniques. DMS is creative, deadly, and, for a corporation its size, dangerously agile. They are known for their aggressive and ruthless recruiting tactics, and they do not take “no” with grace.

Eurodyne’s fate, to DMS, was sealed the moment they selected him, no matter his choice. DMS starts with a fair offer, most of it coming with the prestige of having their name backing you and their benefits package. In the case of Eurodyne, where this was not enough, DMS will call on their Special Recruiting Division, which is devoted solely to recruiting and converting people who are reluctant to sign to DMS. A fancy way of saying they send in their black ops section to perform extractions on those who are bound by contract or reluctant to leave their current company.

Extractions are illegal, but the government is in the pocket of these corporate giants. Though they hardly ever send their own people, so even if the extraction does fail the proof of finding out who sponsored the extraction is normally too timely, over looked, or asking corpses. Most these companies hire Solos to get the job done, a number of groups exist in this profession alone. Extractions are unsettling common in the corpo world that counter extractions are budgeted into company spending plans. As well many big companies have jealousy protection, and pre-planned countermeasures to prevent extraction attempts of their employees or Talents.

Now, you may be asking yourself, “If they didn’t want to work for them before, what would kidnapping them do?” Well, DMS and other companies thought about this issue as well. How do you force someone to work for you? Blackmail is the obvious answer, to the Talent, to their friends, their family, etc. It's a simple fix that will get a result, but can’t guarantee the product. Its proven effective though, reputation is everything- threats to destroy that are not taken lightly. For a company like DMS, they have a one up on this if they can't get the Talent to see eye to eye with their terms. “Talent Indoctrination”, TI for short, otherwise known as brainwashing to the common choom. It's a program used for winning over people who express resistance to “joining the DMS family” even after extraction.

TI is only a rumor outside of the highest levels of the corporation, and those who have been subjected to it. Luckily, TI section failures are rare, unluckily survival of TI section failures is even rarer. DMS, however, is willing to risk TI only on targets with a high enough revenue generation potential. Executives are more at risk than artists, given artists are seen as disposable and the average commercial shelf-life of a DMS Music artist is only a couple years. Most only making it an average of two before they’re dropped back to performing at clubs and bars for the same hundred fans, if that.

This was the threat Kerry was under, one that became very real one fateful day when the Rockerboy was abducted by a group of hired muscle from the corporation. While Kerry was successfully kidnapped and relocated, the extraction itself failed due to intervention of Legendary Solo, Morgan Blackhand. Blackhand was able to capture all five kidnappers, alone, and turned them over to the Federal Authorities. Beaten, battered, and bruised but all five were alive when they were handed over. This act alone humiliated DMS, who was only found later on in investigation to have been the group’s sponsor. Its not unheard of extractions being foiled, but for a company like DMS it was a shot to their pride since Kerry would know it was them that called it. The real humiliation of it comes from the fact Blackhand snagged them all alive, allowing the truth to be exposed to the public, tarnishing that royal reputation of theirs, though no legal action would be taken.

Embarrassing a huge company like that puts a major target on your back. Legality they could care less about, but reputation is not something any corporation wants to gamble with. Morgan Blackhand would become a target for a later date, DMS wasn’t done with Kerry Eurodyne yet. Now, though, their attention was brought to one of the key elements for why Kerry declined their original offer; Johnny Silverhand.

“They were threatening Johnny and I with things like government investigations and stuff. By the time that threat was made, we’d already signed with Universal…” Eurodyne recalled during an interview. It was true, DMS had dug not only into Kerry’s past life but Johnny’s as well. They were at the stage of “If we can’t have you, no one will.” While Eurodyne’s rap sheet was arguably cleaner, DMS was preparing to go full out, and all in to find anything they could. What they had as their ace was Silverhand’s military past, and they knew they could find the same information about Eurodyne as well or paint him for it. Both Rockers had served during the 2000’s Central American Conflict, Johnny’s desertion was all they needed to start the fire.

DMS was preparing to take this knowledge to the government, and at that point they could say and paint anything on Kerry as well. Their careers were about to end before they even began. Short on time, they did the only thing they could do, they went to Universal Music. With the counter threat of exposure of DMS’s corruption and abusive power over their Talents, Universal made their position clear. This was a PR move, DMS could go to their pocket government agents to have the Rockerboy’s locked away for life, but Universal was going for their public appearance. The ends didn't justify the means, DMS backed down.

Lawsuits were dropped, threats ceased, no more extraction attempts were made on either rockstar. They were given freedom to produce their albums and do tours under the protection of Universal. It wouldn’t be for another several years down the line when DMS would rear its ugly head back into their lives. Well, only in passing.

Denny, the former drummer of Samurai, had a new band called Mastermind that was being recorded by DMS Music. “She knows how I feel about them, but the contract they’ve got is suitable for her, so I’m not going to interfere as long as she is happy.” Kerry had stated on the matter back in late 2013, “Even now you won’t find Johnny or I saying anything remotely positive about DMS… I’m just glad no one was listening when I made certain comments or some of my fans might have taken those rash words to heart and we might have had some serious problems.” A tongue in cheek response to the 13 April 2013 Arasaka Riots led by Johnny Silverhand, under the old band's name of Samurai. Rioters killed 18 and wounded 51 on that night, gutting the Arasaka complex. An event that would only deepen the wedge between the two Rockerboys, yet redefine them entirely.

Silverhand, however, would be blackmailed again later on in 2009 by EBS Records to leave Universal and sign a solo contract with them. EBS had found out that Johnny was an AWOL U.S. Marine who had deserted during the Second Conflict. The blackmail attempt was quickly dropped as Johnny came clean himself, revealing all his secrets and shining light on the plight of veterans of the covert war, with his now famous album Sins of Your Brother.

One thing the Rocker was known for was starting changes with his music, back in late 2012 Silverhand had an assassination attempt on his life believed to be sourced from Biotechnica do to their belief of controversal opinions to their practices heard on his album Clone Wars. Being forced to take several months of seclusion to let the heat die down before going on tour himself.

Given all of this, and much more, they had been relatively lucky. Maybe not with the fans, Eurodyne still faces the masses though in some more creative ways now. Having his biometric data copyrighted, and agreements with NCPD to monitor CCTVs for any unauthorized replications. Hasn't stopped some from trying, going as far as faking nudes that broke headlines awhile back only to have frisky imaginations shot down by his management. As far as Johnny goes, I don't think anything beats the rumor that was circulating sometime after the events of Arasaka Tower back in 2023. The idea some obsessive fan sneaked past security of the city to dig through the rubble, locating his body to put on ice and keep like some kind of memorabilia? It sounds crazy, but everyone in Night City knew what kind of fans Samurai, and more importantly, Johnny Silverhand had. Made it completely possible and people didn't really doubt that it could be true.

With corporations though, the two Rockerboys dodged a bullet. Multiples if you were keeping count. Others haven't been so lucky. A number of stories of Talents being threatened and giving into demands, multiple assassination attempts to end someone's career, Talents being kidnapped and tortured, so far as one account of a musicians hands being crushed to prevent preformances. From the outside being a Rockerboy looks like a party scene, and a lot of it is, but as the longest living in the scene will tell you, keep a Solo and a Netrunner you trust close on personal pay.

Events come full circle, once you make it to the big time stardom, the public eye notices everything, hangs onto every word. Talents like Silverhand and Eurodyne control the masses in the same way the corporations do. The audiences look to them for guidance, though in some cases the lessons are lost in translation. With everything from greedy labels making backdoor deals behind their Talent’s backs, something Kerry Eurodyne and Us Cracks went through this year, to psychofans making their own demands, to corporate reputation wars. Being a Rockerboy never gets easier, but few have hardly ever survived the test of time as Kerry has. An uphill battle from his earliest beginnings, to sitting on the Rockerboy throne of Night City, well into 2077 and still holding the title of "God of Rock" without a fault.

Sources and Quotes:

Rockerboy Source Book

Backstage with Kerry Eurodyne page 7-9

Extortion. Bribery. Kidnapping. Brainwashing. And Other Nasty Tricks. Page 44-45

Cyberpunk 2.0.2.0. The Second Edition

Silverhand Update: Clone Tour Begins page 225

One Night with the TRAUMA TEAM page 231

Live & Direct

Diverse Media Systems “Technotainment” page 81-82

Solo of Fortune Vol II Source Book

American Angels: One of Europe’s Best Rates the Top U.S. Pros. page 63

Cyberpunk Red

Welcome to the Dark Future page 239

Cyberpunk 2077

Spector Melee Vendor Westbrook

Gig: Psychofans Gaston Slayton's computer

Shard Glam Now! - The Mag For Those Who Love This For Themselves

#johnny silverhand #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cp77 #s.screamsheets #this was honestly pretty fun #included sources in case anyone wants to pick up the books #hope you enjoy and maybe learn a thing #took liberty on frills to make it more like an actual sheet piece rather than just lore/facts #years are the only thing i fudged a bit #2003-2013 is a hella confusing time in cp and it doesnt make any sense when you do the math

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f-117-nighthawk · 3 years

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Playlist Update? From MY Brain? More Likely Than You Think

can't remember the last time I posted these all together but I just put a few new songs in. I've been playing Arknights bc STARSET songs keep being used in the trailers, and then I was listening to Transmissions while making dinner, and uhhhhh there's two new Transmissions songs on the playlists, plus whatever else the spotify links needed to update to my ever-changing apple versions.

This is just the main playlist, because this one is now 3h 40m, and the other three playlists are about an hour each. I’ll give them their own post tomorrow. Under the cut, because it's also Write Random Snippits and Include Important Lyrics time

Dark Matter

Surprise surprise, this one’s got probably the most work done on it. A lot of that is moving things around, a few deletions, and the additions.

DM now starts with Your World Will Fail, Dark Matter, and Eater of Worlds. Turn the Lights Out still kinda applies, but I stopped vibing with it starting everything, and wasn’t really sure where else it should go so it got dropped. It’s role is sort of picked up by a UtA song later? Anyway, the opening three are still very much about not only the birth of [REDACTED], but the birth of the universe itself. And that’s why it feels better to start out with YWWF. Because it is the start.

(Your world will fail my love/It’s far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can’t imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I’m looking for someone to feed me)

Remnants of Stars is a hook to Filaments at this point, but stays way up here because the thing it’s about connects back up to those three ^ and is something slowly realized by the Paladins throughout the series. There’s kinda three different points that they realize something new about this (at the moment, I Am the One, Cosmic Vertigo, and Centigrade).

(Shed all you know and make way for a galaxy of light/Answers found hidden inside the smallest stone/Bringing forth a new way of life/Open your heart to the sky)

Apocalypse 1992 hasn’t changed. Still about The Fall, still the turning point for the entire damn war. Still about poor Krolia. Still the Rogue One of DM. It happens between parts of Awakenings, detailing the rise of [REDACTED] and the final hours before the destruction of everything sentient species knew beforehand.

(Fly high through apocalypse skies/Fight for the world we must save/Like tears of a unicorn lost in the rain/Chaos will triumph this day)

Apex is the final moments of Apocalypse 1992 from the Red Lion’s perspective, and connects nicely (just as in the albums lol) to the next UtA songs. Which we’ll get to in a bit.

(Brother mountain/Now we sleep/For a thousand years/I will see you again/Something is coming/Coming for me)

You Keep What You Kill covers the slow degeneration of the Empire between The Fall and the Battle of Arus. The knowledge harshly taught by the Thuanial War is forgotten under the influence of Zarkon, Haggar, and [REDACTED]. Marzin and Galraasa quickly rise the ranks as the Empire’s left and right hands, like omens of destruction before them. The four are the ‘holy half-dead,’ the ones who shape the devouring of the universe before them.

(Defying dimensions/These ruthless creatures will steal your soul/Breaking away from the chains of mortality/They won’t be taken down/Bow now to the holy half dead/The master to death mongers calls)

The Glory and the Scum is partially here bc I missed having Delain, I’ll freely admit that. (Delain split up! Like six months ago! I’m still sad!) Here, it’s (most) of the reason why Krolia isn’t around until MGHM. Think Winter Soldier-ish. It’s also from Krolia’s perspective as she’s talking to Kolivan in a conversation I implied in Shatterpoint. Perhaps it shall see the light of day.

(Look at what we've done/Take a step back/Shake your head at what we have become/We're the glory and the scum)

The Seven Sisters is about Keith, mostly, and connected to Closure via its influence on Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) and also to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Also the thing about the Pleiades has kinda become A Thing associated with my two favorite halfbloods.

(I cast my hope upon The Pleiades/The Seven Sisters who would come for me/They’d fall to Earth to grant a child’s dream/But I’m still waiting)

Starlight is the Adashi song. Here, it’s the sad part, based around the time that the SFSS Genesis launches for Kerberos. It also is sort of about Shiro’s thoughts throughout the war as he watches ‘from distant skies’ (and influences String Theory kinda)

(At night the earth will rise/And I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies/Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite/I’ll think of you each time they wash me in their light/And I’ll fall in love with you again)

Waking Dream and Abyss are Awakenings. They’re specifically the Red Lion waking up on Sendak’s ship to her new Paladin, but also sort of the rest of the Lions as they find new Paladins for the first time since The Fall (and, also, an accidental hook to the end of Filaments just by virtue of being on the same UtA album…)

(Centuries like flowing streams as years go rushing by/Waiting in the dark for afterlife)

(Open my eyes in a daze/How long has it been? Am I so out of place?/Warmth I can no longer feel/My mountain is gone, I’m surrounded by steel/The strangest of structures arises ahead/Seems to be held up by nothing/Where have I gone, do I dream?/How can the stars be all I can see?)

Who Will Save You Now is about the Paladins in First Contact. It’s the video messages they send to their families, the warning that Something Is Out Here that they need to prepare for. It’s a declaration of protection for Earth, but a recognition that the Paladins may not be able to do what they say.

(I will not take from you and you will not owe/I will protect you from the fire below/It’s not in my mind/It’s here at my side/Go tell the world that I’m still alive)

Then there’s The End of the Beginning. Which is, well, the eponymous fic. And don’t forget the String Theory connection! Fun fact: part of the last chapter leads directly into part of String Theory at the moment.

(Every night I die just a little/All this time, I’m caught in the middle/All your life, you fought with no winning/This is just the end of the beginning)

A Simple Plan is about anything but a simple plan. Lotor is making his secret bid for the construction of the Sinkline ships, but there’s one more thing he needs before it can come to fruition. Haggar has suspicions, and knows one thing that she needs to keep from both him and Voltron. Team Voltron is still struggling to fit into their new roles, especially with a Black Paladin who adamantly does not want to be Black Paladin, and is in desperate need of one thing to fix the last of the damage done during the Battle of the Sarnan Nebula.

(How long can we hold off ending?/How long can we pretend we’re ok?/No one goes on fighting it forever/I know I’m better this way)

Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Such a short song for such an important fic. It skips all the way over Naxzela to the Mission to the Baaria Shipyards, the first major offensive that isn’t somehow connected to canon (even if only a very very small part of it is actually at the shipyards lol). This is also the song that solidified Keith’s very queer identity in Dark Matter. And more Pleiades stuff!

(In this lonely place, bathed in silence and thoughts of you/I can’t see your face but I’m trying to envision you/So are you really out there? Are you awake with memories/Of a boy you haven’t met yet who’s wished upon the Pleiades?)

There’s another fic in here that I’m still waiting for a song to catch my ear, but it’s pretty big so I’m putting it in here. For the moment, it’s called MGHM 2.0: Electric Paladinloo. Featuring the Whispers, Voltron, and a few mullets.

And then. Hoh boy. The beast of beats. TRIALS (reimagine), Dark On Me, String Theory, and I Am the One. We’ve got [REDACTED], we’ve got [spoiler], we’ve got the first major turning point in the entire war, and the first revelation of the true nature of [REDACTED]. Hence the honor of being the separation point of my two main DM folders. TRIALS is the first part, the horrifying realization. Dark On Me and String Theory itself are from Shiro’s perspective. I Am the One is… an image song? I guess? That’s all I’ll say on that. (I would like to note that the STARSET songs bar OWtT tend to be about the Shiroganes…)

(Hear me from the bottom/Forged in regret, I'm the silversmith/Doomsday, you we had it coming/Marching the streets with an iron fist/Obey no more in silence/The steel in our hearts will be monuments/Today, they'll hear the violence/We'll rise from the dark like Lazarus)

(You're the cause/The antidote/The sinking ship that I could not let go/You led my way, then disappeared/How could you just walk away and leave me here?/Light the night up, you're my dark star/And now you're falling away)

(You don’t believe in space/You don’t believe in light/You don’t believe that anything is well beyond your might/We walk across the sky and beneath the ocean floor/We’re never going anywhere we’ve never been before)

(I am the one/I am the architect to rule your fate)

House on Fire is the aftermath of String Theory, and a large vibe of We ARE Struggling Together! It’s about family, never letting go of something you care about, and the slow act of trusting.

(So I’ll just hold you like a hand grenade/You touch me like a razor blade/I wish there was some other way right now/Like a house on fire we’re up in flames/I’d burn here if that’s what it takes/To let you know I won’t let go of you)

Belgrade is The klance song! It is a) a bop b) always stuck in my head because it is That Good. The line in the chorus about ‘sweet songs of seduction’ is eternally funny to me bc a)they’re both ace and b)QPR’s don’t usually involve seduction. Belgrade also leads almost directly into…

(We pretend in the darkness/We pretend the night won’t steal our youth/Singing me the sweet songs of seduction/Let me be the fool, fool, fool/Who will live and die for you)

Here to Save You is about Sam. Mostly. It’s also about Pidge. And Zaivorge cannons.

(A slave for humankind/I made sure I would survive/To stay alive/Now it’s time to move on/When there’s nothing left to prove/I’m coming to get you)

Iron is the third Closure fic (the second is End of the Beginning, forgot to mention that. They’ve slowly moved away from actually being related to it in anything but name and general idea). It’s about Keith coming to terms with parts of himself, and learning how to use them to great effect. Also has a huge info dump about the Blade.

(You can’t live without the fire/It’s the heat that makes you strong/‘Cause you’re born to live/And fight it all the way/You can’t hide what lies inside you/It’s the only thing you know/You’re embracing that, never walk away)

The second major turning point in the war is Monarch, Birthright, and Firewall. I really recommend reading the whole lyrics for Monarch, because the entire thing is very much a Lotor song. I had a bit of trouble picking a lyric to use here. Monarch is here because Lotor is also the ‘singer’ of Birthright, and both songs are to a very specific high-level target of the Coalition. Firewall is a little different as it’s a Team Voltron song not a Lotor song, but happens because of the same thing the other two do. They’re all not exactly a direct result of Iron, but they wouldn’t happen how they do without it, and then [REDACTED] swings back into the fray and things learned in String Theory/the framing story for Through Apocalypse Skies hit in full force.

(I am not the person you remember from before/The one you patronized and stepped on, the one you hurt/And I have pulled the arrows, now my skin has become stone/No longer am I prisoner to your empty fucking words)

(The voices in my head have all begun to sing/(The voices in your head have all begun to sing)/And they sure as hell hope I am listening/(I sure as hell hope you are listening!))

(They come to your dreams with illusion/They come to bring shape to your mind/You know how to stop the intrusion/We all have to fight for our lives)

and then, The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Here Comes the Reign doesn’t come into full effect until several months after Birthright/Firewall, but starts with The Day the Earth Collapsed. It’s largely about Haggar and [REDACTED]

(You made something they can’t take away/Now bring the fire of the burning sun on everyone)

Supersonic is here… kinda as a placeholder? Things have shifted around since its original purpose, and frankly it’s here still as a framework for what I like to call The Meme Battle. It’s generally about the increase in Coalition support and general winning as they go after warlords in the aftermath of Feyiv, culminating in I Need a Hero which is, of course, The Meme Battle.

Yes, it’s the Shrek version. It’s the Meme Battle.

(Supersonic, polyphonic, this is our war/Mustering the armies, marching faster than before)

(I need a hero/I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night/He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast/And he's gotta be fresh from the fight)

But Tonight We Dance isn’t exactly a klance song, but it’s here for them. On a diplomatic mission gone wrong, the Red and Blue Paladins of Voltron uncover a literally-buried government conspiracy, a rebel cell, and nearly die. A normal days work for the two of them. But they’ve really gotta stop having relationship milestones in the middle of a warzone.

Another reason it’s here is Tonight We Dance is a very aro song to me. “A language universal, but I speak not its tongue” hits hard. I felt like I needed a bit in here to remind listeners/readers that romance isn’t a language Keith speaks. And it becomes very explicit in this fic, just like Belgrade.

(Tomorrow we might wake in servitude and silence/I will give you everything if only you would have me/Tomorrow we will sweat and toil/Our hands will quiver, caked with soil/Tomorrow we'll give it one last chance/But tonight we dance/But tonight we dance!)

But Tonight We Dance is the last of the Closure fics, which is why it’s here. Closure in general is a lot of Keith’s character development and some of the struggles he goes through to accept his place in the universe and the fact that yes, he does have people that care about him. The last fic is me shining a brighter light on Closure’s chorus and taking a ‘last goodbye’ as never needing to say it again

(I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye)

Then we step back into the universe-level action with Soulbound. Revelations from String Theory and Firewall swing back in with a vengeance on a joint Whispers-Voltron mission, leaving them reeling and Krolia questioning her very identity.

(Soulbound, endlessly forever/Locked between the darkness and the light/Don’t drown in the swarming, blackened rising/Hold on to humanity and fight)

About three months after that is My Darkest Hour and Faster Than Light. Haggar realizes something and goes searching for her fifth [spoiler], sending the Blade and the rest of the Coalition scrambling. These also lead directly, and I mean directly, into…

(When the sun comes crashing down/When the world is spinning round and round/I will face what must be my darkest hour)

(Once more we’re flying fast as light/Dark matter passing in the night/Pursued by a force we can’t outrun/As we hurtle towards a dying sun/We maneuver through the remnants of a moon/On the solar winds of supernovas/There is not a place to hide, the Matriarch is close behind/It’s plain to see she’s coming for us all)

Cosmic Vertigo and Other Worlds Than These. Together they are the second of two revelations in what, exactly, is [REDACTED]

(Banish me like burned down planets/Write my fate with sparkling lies/I am the universe; you're just one sky)

(Pull the wool out from your eyes/It won’t shade your frail belief/In the end we cannot hide/There are other worlds than these)

Godhunter is Team Voltron, well, hunting for gods, even as one of them disappears.

(She’s been watching for a century/With hatred, and with scorn/If you know the hunter’s coming/Then you hide or keep on running/'Cause she’s slain the gods before)

Trophy Hunter, Ember, and Redemption are the culmination of Godhunter. I’ve been thinking of them as akin to the suicide mission in Mass Effect 2, if that gives you an idea of what the hell they run into. Also I switched which specific Redemption is on the playlist, because I was listening to Red Handed Denial again and their Redemption was vibing way more than the Hammerfall one. They link up to Godhunter and Soulbound in subject matter, and lead directly into…

(You, you won’t escape me, I’ll rise from the deep/In this final moment, no words left to say/I can’t let you be when a life fades away/You, you won’t escape me ‘cause I’ll set you free)

(Dark matter falling from the sky/Dancing flames reflecting in your eyes as you watch them burn/Watching all your riches witches burn)

(Remember me not for the mess I’ve made/But who I could have been/Finally I’m going home)

World On Fire, This is a Call, The Reckoning, The Wind That Shapes the Land, and Louder Than Words. Switched the order up a bit so it makes more sense chronologically, because the message ‘sent by forces beyond salvation’ has to get there before the reckoning can begin.

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(I see your face, find peace of mind/Between the madness and the sadness and the fire burning/The end of war, the great divine/We’ll see the day of reckoning)

(Search within/Uncover the will to win/Turn against the tide that washes o'er/Find the strength to fall and rise again/Open up the gates, unleash the force/I am the wind that shapes the land/Old as time and twice as strong/Oceans arise at my command/I alone can carry on)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #dm playlists #guess who spent two hours on this! again!#as usual!#long post #i'm teaching in the morning and it's one am #oops

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for-fucks-sake-h · 4 years

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As You Held Onto Me - Four

a/n: Hello! I don’t have much to say, other than a HUGE thank you to my sweet friends @oh-honey-styles and @andwhenshesays for inspiring me to finish this story and being genuinely beautiful people that I feel lucky to know. I hope you all like it. Enjoy! x

CATCH UP ON PREVIOUS PARTS HERE

Rated: M, mature // Word Count: 5.7k

Sometimes, love can feel like it’s everything. And sometimes, we hope it can be.

***

- Wednesday, December 24, 2017 -

“Goodnight, loves! See you in the morning,” Anne called with a kind smile from across the room as you and Harry made your way up the stairs of his childhood home.

After a night of delicious food, games and wonderful company, Harry called it a night, whispering in your ear that he was ready to spend time with just you. So you bid your goodnights to his family, taking your empty hot chocolate mugs to the dishwasher before ascending the stairs with smiles on your faces.

His old bedroom looked the same; posters on the walls of his favorite bands, a dark oak desk in one corner with knick-knacks and books and a small reading lamp, an old striped chair tucked beside it, and his bed in the center below a large window with a soft duvet and blankets neatly placed on top. It smelled like cinnamon from the candle he had lit earlier in the day and the room was dimly lit from the brightly shining moon.

“I love your family,” you whispered with a smile as you bent down to fish one of his old tee shirts from your shared luggage.

He sat on the end of the bed, slipping his socks off and tossing them next to the chair in what would be deemed your ‘dirty pile’. You watched him reach behind his neck to tug his hoodie over his head, his hair sticking up from the static. He was quiet for a moment, simply watching you shimmy out of your clothes and bra, shrugging the shirt on and pulling it down over your underwear. He leaned up to slip his sweatpants off, kicking them over to the pile before his fingers encased yours, tugging you to stand between his legs.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, his worn tee shirt feeling exceedingly soft beneath your palms as he trailed his fingers up and down your bare legs.

“I love you,” he whispered with his face tilted up to yours as his fingers drew designs on your thighs.

You ran your hand up his neck to cup his face, your thumb brushing the soft, warm skin of his cheek. His eyes were heavy; fluttering softly at your touch before you leaned in to press your lips to his. You could feel his sigh rather than hear it, only a soft exhale as you gently sucked his top lip.

Your other hand lifted to scratch the back of his head as your mouths slowly parted, savoring his taste until the very last second. You rested your forehead against his, breathing in the faint smell of his cologne and fresh linen scent of the detergent he loved. It wasn’t the first Christmas you spent together, or even the first spent at his family's home, but it felt special in its own way.

“Come on,” you nudged your noses together, “you know they’re gonna be up early.”

He breathed a soft laugh, pulling himself to slide up the bed and pull the covers down for you. You crawled up the bed, tucking yourself beneath the cold sheets to snuggle in next to him. He pulled you closer immediately, situating yourselves until you were laying on your sides, sharing his pillow, legs tangled. His hand rested on your hip as yours squeezed his shirt in the center of his chest.

You could feel his breath tickle across your lips, your noses nearly touching. Circles were drawn into your skin again, just above your underwear. His warmth encompassed you beneath the sheets the same way his soul did. You could have ten thousand of those moments and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.

He kissed you sweetly, his lips slow and drawn out as they teased and sucked yours. His hand squeezed your hip, pulling you even closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling yourself with him as much as you coud, always wanting to be closer. Even when he was inside you, as close to you as humanly possible, you wanted more.

“Marry me,” he breathed against your mouth. You pulled your head back enough to find his eyes still closed, admiring the way they opened slowly to peer into yours. “Was gonna ask during presents,” he murmured before chuckling slightly, “had a whole plan.”

Your brows creased, endeared, before smiling. “What changed?”

His hand lifted to cup your cheek, his fingers tightly gripping the back of your neck. “Just decided I only wanna share this with you.”

Your lips pouted slightly as warmth burst from your heart to travel throughout your entire body. You kissed him fully, his tongue smoothing over yours as he hummed.

He giggled against your lips. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you repeated as you moved to smother your lips across his cheek and jaw.

He tucked his face into your neck, hugging you so tight you could feel the patter of his heart against his ribs. His lips sucked soft kisses into your skin, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back. He kissed his way back to your mouth, pressing one last deep kiss to your lips, drinking you in slowly before peeling his body away from yours.

You wiped the corners of your teary eyes as he leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage through a discreetly tucked away duffle bag that he had apparently been hiding. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, your cheeks warm and your skin prickling as he turned back towards you with a closed fist.

You sat up with him, both of you crossing your legs, sitting face to face in the center of his childhood bed.

He fixed the ring between his first finger and thumb before extending his shaky hand out to you. It sparkled against the moonlight and the only thing you could think was how much you loved him. How often you thought about this moment, how often you both had talked about it, how happy you were that him becoming your forever was a reality.

You extended your hand as you sniffled, giggling with him as he slid the ring on, taking approximately five seconds to admire it on your finger before launching yourself into him.

“I promise I’ll love you forever,” he whispered into your hair, emotion thick in his throat as he pulled you closer.

“I love you so much,” you giggled as you fell back onto the bed with your arms tightly wrapped around one another.

Kisses were peppered against warm skin. Clothes were eagerly pulled off. He pushed into you slowly, promising that he could be quiet. Every movement was drawn out, until you were tensing around him with your mouths pathetically attempting to stifle your moans. And he was following right behind you, his hips stuttering into yours as murmurs of I love you fell into your mouth to slip down your throat and find their way to your heart.

***

- Friday, June 30, 2020 -

You entered your empty home, holding onto the door frame to slip your shoes off as your exhaustion set in. All you were looking forward to was a long, hot shower after a day from hell at the hospital. You knew these days were part of the job description but it never made it any easier.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way through the dark, dodging kitchen counters and furniture from memory before making your way upstairs. The sensored hallway night light came on as you turned the corner into your bedroom, stripping off your scrubs quickly and tossing them into the hamper. You turned the ensuite’s dimmer light switch to half way, the anticipation of the water pressure on your shoulders already easing your low mood.

After adjusting the shower temperature, you lit the lavender candle you kept on the counter, turned on the bluetooth speaker and pressed play for The Neighbourhood’s ‘I Love You.’ album.

Eagerly stepping into the steam, you tipped your head back as you let the warm water encase you, sending chills across your skin. You took your time, washing with a strawberry body wash and mint shampoo until your skin was raw and your head felt squeaky clean.

You lathered yourself in lotion and dressed in your coziest, oversized sweatshirt before turning your night stand lamp on and slipping into bed. It was only eight o'clock yet you felt like it was the middle of the night with how tired you were. You settled in, ready to read a few chapters of your book, but then suddenly lips softly grazing your temple stirred you awake.

“Shh, don’t have to get up.” The husky sentiment was whispered into the back of your neck as a warm palm ran down the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

He pulled you closer, his front curving against your back, his hand sliding down to rest on your belly. The hair of his bare legs tickled yours as he breathed you in, inhaling where his face was tucked into your hair.

You reached down to hold to the back of his hand as you arched your back in a stretch before whispering, “What time is it?”

“Half nine,” he spoke against the back of your head, his lips leaving a soft kiss to your hair.

You hummed, pushing yourself back against him more. “Long shoot,” you stated simply.

“Unbearably long,” he chuckled in agreement, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “How was your day?”

“Unbearably long,” you repeated.

“You okay? Feel okay?” His tone was soft, his voice low and deep with a tinge of concern.

“Yeah, just tired. Took a long shower,” you assured him as you intertwined your ankles.

“And used my shampoo,” he teased as he sniffed your hair again with a deep inhale.

“It’s growing on me,” you laughed softly, “and doesn’t make me wanna throw up anymore.”

“That’s good,” he hummed, stroking his palm over your round belly. “Ah, there she is.” You could hear his smile as he pressed his face into your neck more. “Was wondering if she was awake.”

“Always wakes up when she hears your voice,” you spoke softly.

Another soft kick had him stilling his hand against you to feel your baby greet him. It wasn’t a lie, every time she heard the deep timber of his voice she moved in search of the warm palm that typically rested on your growing belly.

“Only three more months,” he whispered after a while, fingers gently pressing into your skin.

“Can’t wait,” you smiled as you tried to absorb every fiber of love his palm on your belly filled you with.

***

You blinked your eyes a few times, the morning sun slowly pulling you from sleep the only way it should on a Saturday morning.

You were in the same exact position from the night before, Harry tucked up behind you with his arm draped over your waist. You slept like a rock, thankful that you were still peacefully sleeping through the night. From what you’d read, the third trimester only got more and more uncomfortable.

All in all, your pregnancy had been smooth thus far. Your hematologist got you on an injection blood thinner as soon as you conceived, and by the end of the first week you were a pro at giving yourself the shot every night, six o’clock on the dot. Granted, the bottom of your belly and hips were tender and bruised and oftentimes you had to sneak into the bathroom wherever you were to do it, but it was a price you decided was worth having to pay for a baby at the end of nine months.

Aside from that, you had pretty standard side effects. The thought of chicken made you gag for a while, you’d never wanted gushers and fruit roll ups more often in your life, and you had a bad case of nausea that seemed to linger longer than the typical first trimester mark, only easing up in the last week or so. Your nails and hair were growing like crazy, you were tired a lot of the time and randomly became out of breath if you walked too fast, but you and your baby were healthy, and that was all you could ask for.

Harry was supportive in every way he could be, and you couldn’t say you were surprised. He held your hand when you needed it, rubbed your aching feet, talked you down when your anxiety of having another miscarriage became too much, and loved you unconditionally throughout.

When you were young, you used to wonder what your life would be like; what your future spouse would be like. You hoped he was kind and sweet, had a good sense of humor, maybe could cook. You didn’t realize everything that entailed being a good partner and how easily Harry exceeded any and all expectations. After everything you’d been through together, you felt overwhelmingly lucky to have him by your side.

His thigh twitching where it rested between your legs pulled you from your thoughts. He was most likely going to stir from his sleep soon, as if his body could sense when you were awake, pulling him from his dreams to check on you. And just as the thought crossed your mind, his hand flexed against your belly as he pulled in a deep breath from where his face was tucked against your shoulder blade.

“Morning,” he rasped against your back.

The deep tone of his voice seeped into your sweatshirt to send a chill directly down your spine. He pulled you in, always seemingly wanting you closer, pushing his leg between yours more. It was like electricity blew through you at the simple gesture, as if he hadn’t done it a million times before in your time together. You couldn’t explain it if you tried, but heat pooled in your stomach, fluttering up into your belly as you arched against him more.

“Oop,” he breathed as your ass pressed into his groin.

You could feel where his length rested on his thigh, twitching eagerly at the small contact. But it was enough to have him squeezing your hip and pulling you against him more, hips flexing into you.

Everything was slow; his hand pulling the shoulder of your sweatshirt down to press his lips to your skin, his hips rolling against you longingly, his hands gripping you feverently. His breath came in small puffs, increasing as his cock throbbed. He pressed his thigh against your core, moaning softly at the dampness of your slit. Your skin felt like it was on fire, need burning deep in your belly.

He was sucking marks into the skin of your neck, gripping your hip harshly as his length tucked perfectly between your ass cheeks, pressing his thigh against you even more. He breathed your name softly, his hand trailing down your thigh just to travel back up to grip your waist under your sweatshirt.

“I’m so hot,” you breathed.

“Fuck, me too,” he moaned softly before sucking the spot where your shoulder met your neck.

“No really,” you chuckled, “I need to take this off.” You motioned to your sweatshirt, tugging on the bottom as an endearing oh fell from Harry’s lips.

He helped pull it over your head, the cool air of the bedroom tickling your skin as he tossed it over your bed.

“Better?” He questioned, his hand coming up to hold your waist, his fingers gripping just below your breast as his warm chest pressed against your back.

“Mhm,” you nodded as he tucked his other arm back under your neck, immediately pulling your fingers with his to intertwine them and extend your arms across your mattress.

Your other hand reached behind you, fingers gripping his soft hip as he flexed against you again. His mouth was hot and heavy on your neck, eagerly nipping and licking your tingling skin. His breathing was ragged and shaky as he pressed his hard length against you, effectively pulling a sigh from your lips.

His hot palm slipped down your side until it rested over the center of your belly, pausing for a beat before traveling down to your core. He cupped you softly, his touch almost ticklish in the way his fingers grazed your lips.

“Want you,” he breathed as he tucked his middle finger into your slit.

Your head tipped back at the contact, his open mouth grazing your neck. Circles were pressed into your clit, three slow passes before he was dipping inside to his first knuckle. He groaned softly at the feeling of your arousal pooling at your entrance.

“You should fuck me,” you murmured.

“Should I?” You could hear the faint smirk pulling at his lips as he brought your wetness to your clit, his circles torturously slow.

“Mhm,” you smiled as you arched your hips into his.

His mouth sucked a spot on the back of your shoulder, the fingers intertwined with yours squeezing slightly as his other hand moved up your mound, his wet fingers leaving a trail on your skin. You could feel him tugging his boxers down, your stomach twisting with desire. It came over you so quickly, your need to be close to him. Maybe it wasn’t as often as it was in the past, especially as of late. But when it hit you, it was still so strong.

“Want me?” He spoke into your shoulder blade, his warm breath erupting goosebumps across your skin.

You moaned softly when he grazed the tip of his cock between your legs, hard and ready and waiting for you.

“So bad,” you spread your legs for him, your top knee bending further away to allow him access to your core.

You both moaned as he eased into you slowly. Your mouth fell open in pleasure as your core spasmed around his head. It wasn’t one full push, but small teasing thrusts as he slowly gave you inch after inch. He was panting behind you, soft little mewls of breath as his hand dug into the skin of your hip until his pelvis met your ass, his length pressing deep inside you.

He was completely still aside from his lips pressing kiss after kiss to your skin. Your back, your shoulder, your neck, over and over again.

“H,” you breathed when his hips withdrew before pressing back into you slowly. Fire licked up your spine, your hand flexing in his as your other gripped the sheets in a fist.

He moaned softly before murmuring into your neck, “It’s good, yeah?”

His pace was steady, but slow in the best kind of way. The kind that set fire under your skin and would pull an orgasm from you gradually, the build up just as delicious as the explosion. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge and pulse of his cock as he rolled his hips into yours. It was the way morning sex was supposed to be, deep and reaching, with hushed moans and sluggish limbs, warm skin and gripping hands.

“Oh my god...” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, his thrusts reaching the deepest parts of you.

He moaned before sinking his teeth into the top of your shoulder. His hand left your hip to reach for your wrist and push your hand between your legs. “Touch yourself,” he instructed softly as he pressed his hand over top of yours, effectively pushing your fingers against your clit. “Want you to come.”

“Fuck,” you breathed as your fingers matched his pace, slow circles against your clit that only intestified his thrusts.

His hand smoothed up your side until he could wrap his arm around your waist, his arm perfectly draped over the top of your belly. His fingers tucked between your side and the mattress, gripping your soft skin as his mouth found your neck once more. For how slow and lazy his thrusts were, his lips were harsh in comparison, no doubt leaving marks on the skin of your shoulder and back for days to come. For every bite, he soothed his tongue over the spot, and every strong suck received an even softer kiss. And he did it as often as he could — as often as his body would allow — when he wasn’t moaning low in his throat from the pleasure swirling in his stomach.

“Mhm, yeah,” he spurred you on when your core tightened around him. It felt like you were vibrating with pleasure, like every fiber of your being was electrified and blazing under your skin.

“You feel so good,” you whined into the pillow, your fingers picking up pace against your sensitive clit. You were so close, you could feel your orgasm swimming in the pit of your stomach just waiting to burst.

His hand slid across your belly to grip harshly to your hip, pulling you back on his cock the tiniest bit. But it was enough to have you choking back a moan as his length reached even deeper inside you. It still surprised you after so much time just how full he could make you feel.

“Come on,” he groaned as his hips slapped into yours with a little more power, his fingers turning white against your skin.

There was a part of you that hoped he left bruises. You couldn’t help but feel like your body looked prettier with remnants of his love sprinkled across it.

“Oh god, shit,” you gasped as your orgasm rolled throughout your entire body. It spilled out of you slowly, erupting under your skin to crawl throughout your limbs. It was so slow, every wave taking its time to crash over your head and pull you under.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Harry groaned roughly, his lips catching on your skin with each desperate plea as he came, pumping his hips into you as long as he could handle. Until he was so sensitive that tears burned his eyes and he had no choice but to still inside you. “God, you’re fucking made for me.” His admission was so breathy it made your core clench around him tighter, his passion fluttering directly from his heart to yours.

You were panting wildly, your mouth finding the inside of his bicep to place a sucking kiss to his hot skin. Your legs felt like they were vibrating as he pulled out of you so slowly, making a chill roll down your spine at the emptiness.

You leaned back against him more but shifted to your back when he disconnected your hands and moved out from behind you. He was kneeling above you, spreading your legs open to slot himself between them.

“Har,” you breathed as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the bottom of your belly.

“Need one more,” he murmured against your belly before quickly moving down to swipe a strong pass of his tongue from your dripping core up to your clit.

You released a low, heady moan from the back of your throat at the contact, your legs immediately snapping closed around his head. He was quick to open them again, his palms burning hot against the soft skin of your inner thighs as he spread you open for him, lapping at your sensitive clit like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

Your hands carded through his hair, gripping tightly as he sucked and licked between your folds. The thought of him tasting both of you had your mind reeling. His moans were thick and deep as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking into you with fever as he squeezed your thighs while pressing them into the mattress.

When he licked back up to your clit, catching it lightly with his teeth before trilling his tongue against it, you couldn’t help your head from flinging back into the pillows with a low moan of his name. Your moans and pants only egged him on; made him swirl his tongue over you before suctioning his mouth on your clit. And all it took was a rough roll of his tongue before you were whimpering through your release and coating his chin in your juices.

His moans only intensified your pleasure, both from the vibrations from his mouth and how much he was enjoying himself. You knew he loved it, yet it always made your skin crawl with arousal seeing just how much he seemed to get out of making you feel good. It was like he was addicted to it, always making sure you were completely spent before he could feel satisfied.

You tugged on his hair, closing your knees around his head once more. To say you were sensitive would be the greatest understatement. Sparks were still bouncing off your skin as you started to come down, your chest rising and falling harshly as you caught your breath.

Harry eased up, leaning up to press a kiss to your mound, and then the inside of your thigh, before he crawled up your body to lay beside you. His hand rested on your belly as his mouth found yours, both your taste and his invading your heightened senses when his tongue passed yours in a smooth glide.

“Loved every second of that,” he murmured once he rested his forehead against yours, his fingers drawing odd shapes across the skin of your stomach.

You turned onto your side, keeping your face close to his as you tucked some of his hair behind his ear. “I missed this,” you admitted softly as you lightly scratched down his neck.

“What, love?”

“Just waking up like this. Feeling like everything is easy,” you shrugged slightly.

He was quiet for a moment, his hand stroking up and down your side before settling on your waist. “Where’s this coming from?”

You hesitated because you really weren’t sure. Maybe it was the orgasms, maybe that was just your excuse. But you couldn’t help thinking how much you loved being close to him, and how often you hadn’t felt close to him over the last couple years. And how it had been your own doing.

“I don’t know,” you brushed your noses together softly. “Just ignore me.”

“Hm, can’t do that,” he pulled you closer, your belly pressing into his as he wrapped his arm around you. He danced his fingers up and down your spine soothingly as he continued, “You can always talk to me.”

“I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this,” you shook your head against his as you kept your eyes closed.

He was quiet as he waited for you to open up, letting you get there on your own. He was good at that; letting you gather yourself and your thoughts for as long as you needed without pressing you. He was always so patient and accepting and encouraging and you loved him so much for it.

“You’re gonna be a really good dad H,” you chose to say.

“And you’re gonna be a great mom,” he replied without missing a beat.

His fingers continuously stroked against your skin, easing you in a way you probably couldn't even describe. It was like he always knew what you needed, and gave it freely without question.

You nodded against his forehead slightly before pulling your head back to look at him. His hair was a mess above him, stretching out wildly across the pillow. His cheek had the slightest indent from his pillow still with the prettiest rosy tinge. His eyes were sleepy and his lips were puffy, everything about him, from his face to his soul, was inviting.

“Are you scared?” You asked quietly as you pet the back of his neck.

His eyes fluttered, maybe at your touch or maybe at your question. “Of course,” he exhaled, “think that’s normal.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, almost ashamed.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Everything,” you breathed, “I’m still afraid something bad could happen.” You shook your head, knowing full well that Harry knew what you meant just by the sad look on his face. “I’m afraid there’ll be a complication in delivery because of all these blood thinners.” Your eyes danced across his features, noticing the way his brows furrowed the tiniest bit. You searched his eyes for a moment, the pale green accentuated by the morning light. “I’m afraid... I’m afraid I won’t be any good at it,” you sighed, your own eyebrows crinkling with emotion.

“Baby,” he exhaled as his hand came up to cup the side of your neck.

Your eyes flicked over his face for a moment, concern etched into every line. “I haven’t been thinking about it a lot,” you added quickly, knowing how important it was to him for you to be honest about how you were feeling. “But I can’t help it sometimes, you know? I don’t know,” you continued after a beat, “we’re getting closer and I guess I’m just getting nervous,” you rushed, guilt plaguing your confession. “I don’t wanna worry you.”

“Love,” he started slowly, drawing the word out like a violins final note. “You gotta stop worrying about worrying me. That’s not how this works. Let me comfort you. Let me try to at least help ease your mind.”

You looked back at this man, with his pleading eyes and warm heart, and could physically feel your anxiety easing, and he hadn’t even said anything yet. It was just him. There was no other way to describe the way he made you feel just with a look, just with his eyes on yours.

His thumb brushed across your cheek tenderly as he spoke, “Sobel knows what he’s doing, he’ll make sure everything goes smoothly in delivery. And I’ll be holding your hand the entire time. Please try not to worry about that.” His eyes flicked up as he smoothed the hair at the top of your head, his gaze following his movements as he brought his palm back to your cheek before finding your eyes once more. “And you’re going to be an amazing mom. I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone else. You have to know that.”

You smiled slightly as your eyes brimmed, amazed at how you really could feel better just by listening to him talk. Harry quickly swept away the single tear that slipped down your cheek.

“You’re biased,” you mumble before kissing him softly.

His fingers tightened on the back of your neck as his mouth moved over yours, lips sucking your bottom lip in a savory kiss. “A little,” he smiled against your mouth, “But I’m right too.”

You breathed a laugh as you threaded your fingers through his soft hair, already feeling more at ease. He always knew how to make you feel better. It was almost masochistic, the way you tended to keep things to yourself when you knew if you just talked it out, you’d feel better.

And you did feel better. Harry always had a way of not dragging things out. He was the perfect oxymoron of support and relief.

“We’re gonna figure everything out together,” he added before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You tucked your face into his neck, inhaling against his heated skin as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you,” you murmured into his neck.

A firm kick ricocheted against your skin so suddenly it had Harry chuckling. “There she is,” he giggled excitedly. “Nice of you to join us love,” he spoke down to your belly, slipping down the mattress to press his lips right above your belly button. “Knew we were talking about you, huh?”

You laughed softly as he peppered kisses to your belly, receiving pleased little kicks in return.

“She must be a narcissist like her dad,” you said as you scratched his head fondly.

“Your mom’s just mad that you like me more,” he spoke directly against the skin of your stomach, receiving another soft kick right against his lips. His hand smoothed over your hip, fingers rubbing into your lower back. “It’s crazy,” he looked up at you with bright eyes and a sweet smile, “it’s like she knows exactly where I am.”

You grinned down at him, watching as he went back to kissing and talking to your stomach. It was moments like these that made you even more excited to meet this little human, to hold her in your arms and kiss her little nose, to watch Harry love her.

You were counting down the days, and even though you weren't out of the woods yet, you were hopeful; choosing to remain positive that everything was going to turn out okay.

***

- Tuesday, September 28, 2020 -

You kissed Harry goodbye early that morning and headed to work for your only twelve hour shift of the week.

You were due in a couple weeks and decided it would be best if you knocked your hours down to one shift a week. Your last trimester had been good, uneventful in surprises from week to week. It was exhausting though and your body ached daily. But you couldn’t just sit home until you delivered, so one shift a week would have to be enough.

As soon as you opened your eyes that morning, a faint pain throbbed in your lower back. It seemed like a new sore spot popped up every day. But you powered through, knowing any pain you endured would be worth it in the end.

You were nearly an hour into your shift, having just finished your rounds and heading to the nurses station to update charts.

“You okay?” Your coworker Jess asked with a chuckle.

You practically fell into your chair, breathing heavily while your back ached, feeling like it was on fire. You felt like you couldn’t catch your breath, laying a hand over your chest to feel the frantic beat of your heart.

“YN?”

The pain in your back traveled to your stomach; sharp and pungent, provoking a small whine to fall from your lips.

“Something’s wrong,” you gasped as another sharp pain shot through the lowest part of your belly.

“Okay, deep breaths,” Jess eased as she kneeled next to you, blindly reaching up on your desk to grab your phone. “Are you having a contraction?”

“No, no,” you repeated as you tried to settle your breath and ignore the tears burning your eyes.

Your vision went spotty as you keeled over in pain, your hands gripping your belly. You could hear Jess calling for Dr. Sobel, her calm voice repeating that everything was going to be okay.

“Call Harry,” you breathed.

And then everything went black.

***

To anyone that has suffered from infertility or miscarriage... I’m so sorry. Please know that you are not alone. I love you, and I hope you get your rainbow soon.

Thank you for reading. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts x

- PART FIVE -

#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #ayhom

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revengeoftheantichrist · 3 years

Text

Anti-Christ Superstar

Warnings: Drug use

AO3

Chapter 1: She’s with the band

Friday night in Camden was bad. Friday night in Camden behind the bar was worse. Tonight, was hell, you were sure the devil invented this job to torment people. Your bar was a club and music venue for all things alternative. And tonight, you were graced with the presence of the new-ish kids on the scene. Satanic Panic had taken the alternative world by storm. They were on their second world tour, for their album ‘Fire and Reign’. They were playing your venue tonight and the place was jam packed. You didn’t even know you had the capacity for all these people, but here you were, taking order after order. You weren’t surprised at the turnout. The atmosphere of the room truly was electric, and you had felt it once before. You remembered seeing them for their Hawthorne tour at Leeds festival a few years ago, when they were fresh faced and very new to the scene. The way they managed to control the crowd of the smaller stage was quite magical, better than some of the bands that played the main stage. You weren’t surprised at their success; the music was good and the whole band was eye candy for people of all ages. However, you wished they would go be successful somewhere else, not in the place you worked, a venue what you thought was far too small for them now. You were just about to take a new order, before the manager pulled you back. “Y/N come with me,” he said, pulling you to the backstage area, you could barely hear him over the loud music and people. “Everything okay?”, you asked. “well…” he hesitated, “How goods your bass skills?” he finished. You gave him a confused look, “what the fuck are you on about?” He let out a sight. “Look, the bassist for the band just dropped out last minute, they clocked your bass in the locker room and asked if you could play decent… I said yes and they need you ready for stage in like… 15 minutes,” he said, looking at his watch. “Josh! My bass is pink and sparkly it’s not gonna fit the aesthetic and were flooded with thirsty people out there,” you whisper-shouted. “Okay great! You’ll play then,” he said, looking more giddy than necessary. Before you could shout at him, a velvety voice interrupted you. “So, is this our replacement for tonight?” You turned to look at the source, Michael Langdon, lead guitar and vocals. The face of the band. His perfect eyebrow was raised as his baby blues looked you up and down, sizing you up to see if you were fit for the task. Your manager spoke, “Yeah, this is Y/N just give her the instructions and she’ll do fine, I’m off to cover her shift now, have fun,” he waved at you before almost skipping to take over your post. You were left alone with Michael, at a loss for words. “C’mon, lets go, we have a concert to play,” he grabbed your wrist and dragged you along with him. You couldn’t believe this, you though you might be hallucinating, the heat of the venue getting to you. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to snap a picture, to prove to yourself and your friends that this night really did happen. Michael was too busy barking orders to the side to notice the picture had been taken. You finally got to where the other two bandmembers were standing. They looked up from their conversation and smiled at you. “The pink bass yours?” asked the blonde on, this was Xavier, the drummer of the band, his little cross earring glimmered at every concert. Upon a closer look you realised the cross was inverted. How very on brand. You nodded in reply, still trying to come to terms with the situation. “Oh cool, we’ve never played with a girl before, you better be good,” the brunet laughed. This was Duncan, the other guitarist. He had the good boy gone bad vibe to him, a rebel from a prim and proper family. You looked and him and pointed to your nose, “nose is a bit crusty there,” you said. Duncan laughed and wiped the white powder, sniffling a little, “thanks”. “Are you all quite finished?” interrupted Michael, looking annoyed at the interactions. The rest of the band just rolled their eyes. “10 MINUTES!” someone shouted. “Am I getting paid for this by the way?” you asked, not wanting your talents and time to go unrewarded, you were here to work after all. “Of course,” Michael snapped, “We have 10 Minutes before we get on there and we’ve never been late, here’s the set list, I’m sure you’ve heard our shit before if your working in a place like this,” Michael shoved a piece of paper in your hands. “shouldn’t be too hard to keep up, now, this is Rin,” he pointed to a blonde woman, “She’s the techie that’s gonna get you set up. Other than that, just follow my lead and stand on the right side of the stage,” he finished. That was a lot of information to process at once. “I’m Y/N by the way,” you finally introduced yourself to everyone, while holding your hand out to Rin. The support act was coming off stage as Rin gave you a quick rundown and set you up. You had worked here for months and yet there was still so little you knew about the stage. She told you exactly where to stand and where not to stand due to pyrotechnics. All you could do was nod, the reality of what you had been roped into hadn’t hit you yet. You were pulled away by Michaels death grip, it was time to go on. You took a deep breath, the nerves beginning to hit you. Michael was adjusting his leather trousers. Duncan was making sure his docs were tied tightly, not having a repeat of the last tour where he tripped over the laces and fell face first into the crowd. Xavier stood next to you, he noticed the look on your face and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Hey, look, its gonna be fine. You know deep down inside how talented you are, otherwise, you would have run for the hills. This is a really weird situation so just give it all you got okay,” he gave you a little pep talk. “Thanks, I really needed that,” you smiled, patting the hand that was on your shoulder. “Can the pair of you please shut the fuck up, were going on now,” Michael snipped. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning,” you snapped back, not appreciating the attitude boy wonder was giving you. He opened his mouth to speak, but the lights lit up the stage and the crowd started to go insane, ready for the band to come out. You tried to control the nausea you were feeling, walking to your designated section of the stage. The crowd was massive but thankfully, all eyes were on Michael. You pulled the strap of your bass on, adjusting it so it would be comfortable for a long night of playing. You didn’t even know if you had the stamina for it. Michael had stopped talking to the crowd and Xavier started on the drumbeat. You looked back at your friends at the bar, your manger giving you a thumbs up. You began to strum in time with Xavier, setting the beat for the song. You thanked your lucky stars that you had just removed your acrylics a few hours ago. Michael’s and Duncan’s guitars came in, completing the intro to the song. Michael’s voice finally joined in. It was as if the room had immediately been put in a trance. You had been on the other side of the feeling before, being on stage with it was almost the same. Instead, it felt like your fingers were playing on their own, separate from the rest of you. You closed your eyes and embraced the feeling, letting the music and Michael’s voice control you. You opened your eyes and were met by Michael’s intense gaze, you just smiled at him, before looking back to the crowd and winking at your friend in the crowd. You still felt Michael’s eyes on you. The lights transitioned, indicating the song change. Michael and Duncan were back to back, in their competitive duet piece in the song. The crowd was going crazy at the performance. You looked back at Xavier and grinned at each other; you were surprised at how much you were enjoying yourself. Time seemed to fly, before you knew it you had played the final song of the set. You were finally out of your daze and got a good look of the room around you. Everything seemed so much brighter on stage. Duncan came over and gave you a high-five. “Thank you, London,” Michael began, “It’s been great performing for you all tonight. I want to say a huge thank you to Y/N over here for filling last minute, we wouldn’t have been able to perform without her,” he said, gesturing to you. A sudden shyness hit you, hearing the crowd cheer for you. You smiled and waved, giving them a little bow. The band finished with their messages, before walking off stage to a cheering crowd. “Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself. “There’s no god here,” Michael whispered in your ear. “Personal space Langdon,” you replied, glaring at him. A short woman with dark hair walked towards you. “This is Ms. Meade, our manager,” introduced Duncan. You held you had for her to shake, “Y/N”. She shook your hand, “the people on social media are loving you, you know that? We haven’t had this much of a positive response to a bassist since the one a few years ago. What was his name again? …. Eh, I can’t remember,” she shrugged. “This is so surreal,” you said to yourself, lightly patting you hot cheeks. “I need a spliff after this.” “Ask and ye shall receive,” Xav said, holding a rolled one out at you. You smiled and took it, “you are My favourite person on planet earth right now Xav,” you said, bringing out your lighter. You walked out to the smoking area, chatting away with Xavier about the strange day you were having. You heard Duncan snicker behind you, not knowing he was laughing at the death glare Michael was giving Xavier. Xavier and you scrolled through the twitter and Instagram tags of the concert. Meade was right, you seemed to be getting a lot of attention on there. You DM’s were blowing up too, from friends, family and total strangers on the internet. Within a span of a few hours, crazy fans had found your social media and followed you everywhere. If you hadn’t had been stoned, maybe you would have panicked a little at the sudden attention. But that was a problem for sober you. You went back inside to, Meade, your manager and the boys having a heated conversation. “Ah, Y/N so nice of you to join us,” said your manager. Meade just rolled her eyes, interrupting him before he could go any further. “Look, I’m gonna cut right to it kid. The people love you and we don’t have a bassist for the rest of the tour. You’ll be fully paid and accommodated for. If you don’t like it, Josh over here says your free to come back here any time. We’ll even throw in your own bus for you. How’s that sound?” You brain barely processed what she said. They wanted you permanently, your mouth was gaping like fish. “C- can I read the contract at least?” you asked. She shrugged and pulled out a wad of paper, it had to be thicker than the bible, your eyes widened. “Is there a TL;DR version of that?” “Nope,” they all said in unison. “We need to know by tonight, we leave for Europe on Monday, so you have Saturday and Sunday to pack and tie up any loose ends if you choose to do so,” she said. You looked around the room at the band members. Duncan and Xavier looked happy to have you, grinning at you. Michael however had a sour look on his as face, as if your very existence was offensive to him. You smiled to yourself, the thought of you just being near him and irritating him for a few months was enough to convince you. Getting on his nerves was already becoming a favourite pastime of yours. “Pen?” you held out you hand. Meade handing you heavy and expensive looking black pen. You signed your name onto the contract in blood red ink, not looking at the contents of the contract. “Welcome aboard Y/N, you’re officially a member of Satanic Panic.”

#my writing #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #AS1

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djrelentless · 3 years

Text

When I say "It Gets Better", I mean it! (October 3rd, 2011)

I just finished watching Anderson Cooper's show on "bullying in schools". Sparked by the death of Jamey Rodemeyer, it started an interesting conversation between my husband and myself. Anderson had several stories of kids. Some who committed suicide and a few that are still here dealing with the problem. All sad stories that brought up memories of my teen years.

Jamey Rodemeyer

As I remember, the kids who were picked on were the outcasts. The "not-so-attractive", the "feminine boys", the kids who were different in appearance and attitude were all fair game. Given the fact that my grandmother kept my hair in cornrow braids when I was in elementary school, I was most definitely considered to be a "sissy". I was constantly being told "Oh...what a cute little girl". Of course while all the other boys were interested in sports and outdoor activities, I was only interested in music and art. Both of my uncles played football. It never struck a chord with me. I would rather be in the backyard playing wit my grandmother's old pots and pans.

By the time I reached Junior High School, the bullying had escalated into pushing and tripping in the halls. Although I am very tall today, I was quite the skinny runt back in the 7th grade. My worst bully was a kid named Craig. I won't reveal his last name, but anyone who remembers me from back then would know who he is. And Craig made my life a living hell. I was afraid to walk home from school. I had to find alternative routes every other day. The worst part was that he lived right around the corner from house.

My childhood, like many out there, was filled with adversity. My mother and father married too young and were not ready to be parents. I ended up being raised by my grandmother, but by my teen years my parents had made a couple of cameos in my life. Since I was the first grandchild, my grandmother sorta let me express myself the way I wanted to. She said nothing when I would run and grab her wigs to do little shows for the family at Christmas time. She always encouraged me to sing and dream of being a star. Coincidentally, earlier today on Dr. Phil he had the author of "My Princess Boy". Sure wish that book would have been around I was coming up.

So, between the absence of my parents and also being molested by a family member, I had some days that really made me question why I was here. What did I have to live for? And believe it or not...the thought of suicide never crossed my mind. For some reason, I actually believed that there was going to be a tomorrow. I knew that one day I would be in control of me. That voice in my head that told me that I could survive this period in my life kept me alive. It made me want to show all the bullies and the P.E. coach that told me that I was never gonna be nothing that I was someone.

In 1980, I had a friend who worked at the Tampa Tribune named Kim Eisler who introduced me to the world of journalism. During one of the cameos of my mother back in the late 70's, Kim was our neighbor. He was a great influence on me. He took me to work with him and I met a lot of the editors. So, one day when my mother was at work, I got dressed in my Sunday best and walked downtown to the Tribune building. I lied to the the front desk and said I had an appointment with the City Editor, Joe Registrado. He remembered meeting me and said that I could come up. And off the top of my head at the age of 12, I came up with a small presentation with my hand written newspaper that myself, Travis Oullette and Gino Marino produced and sold around school with some drawings that I had done. I told Joe that I wanted to write for the Tampa Tribune and that the paper needed a column for its younger readers. He sat and listened then left me in the conference room for about ten minutes. When he returned, he told me that I was hired for the summer. This would change my life forever.

The first article I wrote for the Tampa Tribune.

When I started at Wilson Junior High back in Tampa, I felt confident that everyone was going to want to be my friend. I had articles in the local newspaper and I had collected all of the promo material that they threw out for all the latest music acts out of the time. Back then, promo kits came with folders that were made to look like the album covers. So, I used those as my school folders. I had photos of the stars and had plenty of stories about what I had learned that summer while working for the paper.

Of course you know, those things were impressive to some, but not to all. Craig hated me even more! And to make matters worse, his girlfriend Felicia seemed to have a crush on me. So, he made it his mission to embarrass and humiliate me every chance he got. And with 7th grade also came showers after P.E. Not such a good idea for a young gay boy who is beginning to notice how bodies change with puberty. I did get caught a couple of times looking a little too long in the locker room, which made the teasing worse.

So, as I explained before, I had to find different ways to walk home to avoid Craig after school. But something interesting happened that school year. One day, I had taken a long route home only to find Craig sitting on my steps when I got there. Extremely scared, I started to walk fast in the other direction. He said to me "I'm not gonna bother you" and then I sat down beside him and we had a conversation about if I liked boys. After "him-hawing" around the subject, I finally confessed that I did like boys. And to my surprise, he didn't beat me up. He actually leaned over and kissed me. This was my first kiss and it came from the school bully. The boy who everyone thought would be a future football star that all the girls thought was dreamy was the first boy I kissed.

It was in that moment that I realized that the voice in head that told me that "it wasn't always gonna be like this" was right. Oh sure....I still had some bad bullying days ahead of me. Craig did act like he was gonna beat up in front of the other guys around school, but I knew that one day I was gonna be in control of my own destiny. I would have the last say when it came to me.

I just wish that I could have told that to Jamey and all the others who took their lives because they couldn't see past the forest of teen-hood. And now the media is talking about anti-bullying laws (which is great), but how do we get to that teen out there who can't see past today, that teen who only dreams of going to school for one day without any trouble or name-calling.

I read some comments about Lady GaGa when she performed a special song at her show for Jamey. Some were saying "how dare she try to capitalize on his death". Others defended her and praised her for speaking out. I have been torn on her career since she started. I think she is a very talented individual. Without the gimmicks and costumes, I actually hear an artist in there. But in this media-crazed world we live in, you have to do something to be seen and heard. I believe she has the ability to be one of those icons who could change the world, but the imagery may get in the way. But I do believe she could be for bullying what Elizabeth Taylor was for the AIDS epidemic: a face and voice for awareness and activism.

The ironic thing is that Jamey actually had made an "It Gets Better" video just a few months before his suicide. He spoke of being inspired by Lady GaGa. I wonder what happened between then and the day he took his life. He seemed optimistic and as though he was dealing with the situation. But as his parents said, he put on a brave face for everyone else.

I am begging everyone to pay closer attention to your friends especially if they are being bullied. This isn't about sexuality. It's about making sure that the human spirit isn't broken so badly that someone would want to end their life. "Support Our Youth"!

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rovewritesit · 4 years

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame.

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on.

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel.

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?”

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour.

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments.

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face.

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch.

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,”

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again.

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game.

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with?

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk.

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly.

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100.

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles.

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath.

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.”

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture.

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality. One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it.

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill.

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar.

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug.

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone.

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince.

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead.

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain.

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately.

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

#john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #angelofmydreams

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animeraider · 3 years

Text

My Kevin Gilbert Story, and my latest single.

As some of you know I’ve had a few brushes with the “big break” that many in my line of work crave. I was signed to a major label in the early 1990s, and the record I turned in was shelved. The label wanted me to be the “next Michael Penn” and by that point not even Mr. Penn was interested in that, let alone me. I had three songs picked up for a movie, which was never released. I got out of my record contract and signed with another label, releasing an album that included 5 songs from the one that was shelved. The label put no money behind it. I had a big hit in 2009 and signed a European distribution deal, which fell apart when the married couple who ran the business fell into a messy divorce. I sold thousands and thousands of records in Eastern Europe – which were being sold by pirates. It took several years to get that fixed.

I had an audition that everyone felt I was a lock for to play keyboards for a Japanese band that had a huge following. My flight to the audition was supposed to be September 12, 2001. I actually watched the plane I was supposed to board land as it was the last flight grounded. I’ve done some engineering and performing I don’t get to tell anyone about – the NDA’s are pretty strong. One of my songs became the theme to a German Television show.

But let me tell you the story of a relationship I almost had with a multi-Grammy-winning star who soared high and made it further than I have, whose song I have made a cover of and released as a single today.

So where to begin. First of all, yes, I knew Kevin Gilbert. No, we weren’t friends, but we were colleagues and classmates. We performed together a few times – all of if school related. That’s it. Oh, and he invited me to a jam session he was going to have once and I turned him down. I’ll get to that.

Believe it or not, I have to tell this story starting in the middle. There was once a band called Toy Matinee. I loved that band. Clever songs, well written melodies, a sense of darkness and a sense of fun. It was a band that me and my roommate Max could agree on and we cranked that album loud and often. We went and saw them live at the Troubadour in Los Angeles, and were about 10 feet from the stage. This is NOT the live album released in 1999, but I can tell you they rocked the place that night. Played almost every song from the album, and did an encore of Elton John’s “Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” that smoked.

A great night.

Now I jump into the past, to tell the tale of the UCLA Synthesizer Ensemble. It was the brainchild of Professor Roger Bourland, who at the time was only in his 2nd year as a professor at the school and would later become dean of the department. He searched out the most rock and roll musicians in what was mostly a stuffy classical music department. Me. Dave Koz. Joel Harnel. And this kid named Kevin. The five of us took another student’s source material and arranged up a musical. Straight musical theater and full of schlock, and all performed on synthesizers. We eventually put on four shows, with the five of us in the orchestra pit. I wrote the show-stopper ballad and a Latin inspired piece. I hate to say it, but I no longer remember what everyone else did, although I remember Dave mostly for his EWI playing and Joel for multiple reasons – including the fact that he wrote and arranged all of the drum parts.

I knew Joel fairly well – we had played together a few times and he was even more rock and roll than me, with more experience. Dave Koz was, even then, Dave Koz. The only saxophonist I had met up to that point in my life who was better than me. We had played in jazz bands together but he was already a rising star. When he beat me for the gig with Richard Marx’s touring band his career just took off – but all this was before then. I was one of Roger Bourland’s students – in fact, I had been in the “test” classroom when he had auditioned for his job.

I barely knew this Kevin kid. I was constantly getting his name wrong – for whatever reason my brain had him wired as Kevin Anderson.

My only real interaction with him outside of this 12-week experiment was down in the practice rooms. Many of these rooms had pianos in them and on any given day you could hear Mozart, Brahms, Chopin and all of the other usual suspects. I would go and write my own material and be pounding out rock and roll. Kevin did that too. Once while in the middle of the writing process for the musical he came into my practice room while I was working on a song in the style of Elton John. He invited me to a jam session the next Tuesday he was going to, and I declined. Tuesday was when MY band practiced, and as their lead guitarist I needed the practice.

That was the end of it. After the musical was over we all drifted our separate ways and for the most part didn’t run into each other again. I ran into Dave once at a music festival in San Francisco and he introduced me to Clarence Clemmons, which was pretty damned cool.

By now you’ve figured out that Kevin was Kevin Gilbert. Congratulations. I hadn’t. For many years to follow I would remember him as Kevin Anderson.

Now I’ve told you all of this so that you understand that this is long BEFORE Max and I went to see Toy Matinee in concert. I became a fan of the band without knowing that Kevin was its leader. I was ten feet away from him, performing for an hour. I had performed with him myself.

I didn’t recognize him. Nothing clicked in my brain that this was the same guy. I didn’t put two and two together. I rolled for my intelligence check and got a one.

Kevin Gilbert would go on to a solo career, win seven Grammys for his work with Madonna, be part of the driving musical force behind Sheryl Crow’s first album, become one of the founders of the Tuesday Night Music Club, and become one of my songwriting heroes. The man could paint a picture with very few words and his musical ability was enviable.

And then he died; a victim of his own vices. I’m not going to go into that here – I know nothing at all and can shed no light on the subject.

Several years later I relocated to San Francisco with my family. I discovered the band Giraffe once I was on their home turf, and of course discovered the fact that Kevin Gilbert had been their leader when he was a teenager. BEFORE I knew him. Giraffe was a pretty damned good band that had come so startlingly close to making it big – their albums are worth hunting down and they did a fantastic live rendition of Genesis’ “Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” (the full album mind you) that is lots of fun.

I was looking for a recording studio for my second album when I ran across a man named Steve Smith who owned a recording studio down the peninsula from where I was living. In his bio, he briefly mentioned that he was the drummer for Giraffe. Awesome. On his web site of the time if you dug in a little bit there was a bio of Kevin Gilbert, and he talked about the brief time he spent at UCLA.

Parts of the story looked and felt awfully familiar to me. Smith talked about the musical without mentioning the name, and again, it felt familiar. Me being slightly brave, I wrote an e-mail to him to ask what was the title of that musical and that I might have been involved in it. He confirmed it for me.

Holy crap.

All of the pieces started falling into place then. The rehearsals, our discussions about piano playing, that I went to one of his shows and failed to recognize him? The fact that I think he invited me to come join the FUCKING TUESDAY NIGHT MUSIC CLUB and I didn’t even fucking notice!?!!?!!?!!?

I’m an idiot.

Actually, in looking back at the timeline I don’t think he invited me to join TNMC. That came a couple of years later – I think. I’m never going to know for certain. If he had told any of the other members I don’t know about it. I’ve exchanged about a dozen words with one of the other members over social media but we certainly don’t know one another.

I wonder if he saw me in the audience that night and laughed. I will never know. I can tell you there is an album version of that night you can listen to and/or buy. A then-unknown Sheryl Crow played keyboards in the band, dressed up like a dominatrix biker chick. When I found out about that later I was amazed – I didn’t recognize her either.

I’m an idiot.

Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard played drums. I don’t remember the name of the bass player but what I remember is this man with the thickest eyebrows I have ever seen in my life. Marc Bonilla played lead guitar. Oh, the people I could have met.

I never did work in Steve Smith’s studio. I no longer remember why.

When I was working on my third album in my newly built home studio I recorded a number of covers and one of those was Kevin Gilbert’s “Tea For One”. It’s a fantastic song of unrequited love and missed chances told from start to finish in only a few dozen words. I have no idea if he would have liked what I did to his song – he had a wicked sense of humor that I can recall now but I never got to know him on a personal level as a songwriter, which was my mistake. I could have but I was so focused on myself in those days that even if the overtures were made I probably didn’t even notice.

I recorded the song in what I called "Garage Pop" during those days. A bit uneven, imperfect vocals - what you might get from a band practicing in their garage instead of a polished studio version. If you want that, I recommend hunting down his version.

But I recorded “Tea for One” just the same – it’s a great song and I’d like to think I gave it some justice – even if it doesn’t come close his version. It was on the original version of my third album "The Long Goodbye", which I released myself, but was cut when the album was moved to digital streaming services (In all fairness, I cut 21 songs from the original release – which was a 2 CD set).

My music career has been dark for several years, but it got jump started in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic and I’ve been revisiting a lot of my unreleased work since, and of all the covers I did this is still my favorite. I am releasing it now, in tribute to a musician I admire and could have called friend if I had just paid a bit of attention.

The guy holding the roses was me, as it turns out. I had no idea.

+++++++++++++++++

For those of you with very long memories you should listen to the full single on Spotify, because I’ve thrown in a little bonus for people who remember the 1980’s band ASK. Just a little piece of a little ditty written by me, Kevin Donville and Ed Lee.

#Spotify

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drproximo · 3 years

Text

Original Versions of Songs You Didn’t Know were Covers

Originally published for Geeks and Beats, August 2017.

https://www.geeksandbeats.com/2017/08/songs-didnt-know-covers/

I love a well-done cover song, and I especially love a well-done cover that deviates from the original. There’s something endlessly fascinating about how two different people can arrange such dramatically different interpretations of the same source material. What makes this especially fun is when you discover that a song you’ve been enjoying for years is itself a reinterpretation. Sometimes it even goes a step further, and a song that you knew as a cover turns out to be a cover of a cover. Researching this list became a much more involved “rabbit hole” than I ever anticipated, and I am delighted to share my findings with you. I’m confident that, like me, you’ll have more than a few “whoa, I didn’t know that!” moments.

Bruce Springsteen – Blinded by the Light

youtube

When a WatchMojo video got me digging into this awhile back, this was the one that surprised me most. This is one of those songs that I feel like I’ve been aware of for as long as I’ve cared about music. So it was a bit of a shock to discover in my 40s that, not only is it a cover, but it was originally by The Boss. There are differences in the arrangement and the lyrics, but the Manfred Mann version is generally considered the definitive rendition.

Tina Turner – Don’t Turn Around

youtube

While “Blinded by the Light” was the big surprise on my first dive into this topic, this next one blew me away even moreso. Ace of Base’s third most successful single was originally a Tina Turner song, the B-side of her 1986 single “Typical Male”. Bonnie Tyler, whose repertoire of covers is expansive and impressive, also did her own interpretation on 1988’s Hide Your Heart.

I’ve Got My Mind Set On You – James Ray

youtube

Time for a little history about “Weird Al” Yankovic. In 1988, Al released his album Even Worse. The title had two meanings. First of all, the lead single was “Fat”, a parody of Michael Jackson’s “Bad”, and the album cover was also a direct parody of Jackson’s Bad cover. In other words, since Jackson was declaring himself to be “Bad”, Al decided he was “Even Worse”. Second, all of the other parodies were of covers that had recently been hit singles, by Tiffany, Billy Idol, Los Lobos, and George Harrison.

The last one was the one that surprised me. Harrison’s most solid 80s hit was actually a cover. I owned 45s of the originals of all the others, but I had never heard James Ray’s original of “I’ve Got My Mind Set On You” (which Al turned into “(This Song’s Just) Six Words Long“).

The Tide is High – The Paragons

One of Blondie’s most distinctive qualities was, and still is, a blending of several sounds and moods. As such, this reggae ditty, which was their third #1 single on the Billboard Hot 100, didn’t raise many eyebrows. So, few at the time knew that it was a cover of a 1966 rocksteady song by The Paragons. Although, the fact that the gender-swap screwed up the rhyme scheme could have been a clue.

Torn – Ednaswap

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OoEdfB7l18

This one’s a little weird. Shortly after Natalie Imbruglia had her breakthrough hit with “Torn” in 1997, there was a short-lived minor controversy. Apparently, some people were upset when they found out that Imbruglia didn’t write the song. It was a cover of a 1995 song by a relatively unknown alternative act called Ednaswap. Nobody claimed had that she wrote the song, however, and there was nothing new about singers having a cover be their first hit. So the “controversy” was quickly reduced to a footnote, whose most prominent documentation is a mention on Pop-Up Video.

Adding to the weirdness, Ednaswap’s “original” wasn’t technically the first recording of the song. Two years before they got around to releasing it, a Danish translation,“Brændt” (“Burned”), was released by Lis Sørensen.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun – Robert Hazard

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aLNwOxPsjg

I almost didn’t include this one because, quite frankly, the original is awful. And, let’s be real, there’s something creepy about a guy breathily singing about what girls want. Thankfully, Hazard’s recording never got past the demo stage, so I’ll choose to consider Lauper’s version “technically a cover but sort of not really”.

Downtown Train – Tom Waits

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLtZKkCIVmI

If you asked a random sampling of people around you, there’s a good chance that many of them wouldn’t be able to name a Tom Waits song. On the other hand, it’s almost a guarantee that they’re familiar with at least one of his songs, but covered by someone else. The Eagles, Alison Krauss, Sarah McLachlan, Bruce Springsteen, and The Ramones are among the many big names to contribute to this. Heck, actress Scarlett Johansson recorded an entire album of Tom Waits songs (it was kind of awful, but I digress).

One of the most successful Waits covers is Rod Stewart’s “Downtown Train”. The original was a standout track and minorly-successful single from Waits’ 1985 masterpiece Rain Dogs. Stewart’s 1991 cover starts off with a similarly restrained sound, but gradually swells into a much “bigger”, almost celebratory sound.

Piece of My Heart – Erma Franklin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0QAxIKf8G4

First off, the more well-known recording, with Janis Joplin on vocals, is properly credited to her band Big Brother and the Holding Company. Second, covers generally draw from that 1968 version, but the original was by Erma Franklin (Aretha Franklin’s older sister). Faith Hill’s 1994 atrocity seemed to be an attempt to destroy the song’s legacy, but Melissa Etheridge managed to restore it a little bit in 2005, even though it was a clumsy attempt at a comeback for Etheridge.

The First Cut is the Deepest – P.P. Arnold

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1-g5VG2pWg

This is one of my favourites. With many of the entries on this list, it’s fun to play the original for someone and watch their face as they slowly realize what they’re hearing. P.P. Arnold’s original recording of “The First Cut is the Deepest” (written by Cat Stevens) also happens to be a fantastic song in its own right.

In 1977, Rod Stewart (him again?) released what most would consider the definitive version, and in 2003 Sheryl Crow covered it as one of two new songs recorded for her best-of collection.

Nothing Compares 2 U – The Family

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZlzN0Gtpp8

In the 80s, there were a lot of Prince side projects and spin-offs. Morris Day and The Time may be the most memorable, with their mega-hit “Jungle Love“. Wendy & Lisa, Vanity 6, and Apollonia 5 also enjoyed a little time in the spotlight. One of the lesser-known projects, however, was The Family. The Family was often tasked with bringing life to songs that Prince wrote but wasn’t interested in doing himself. So even if you knew that Prince wrote Sinéad O’Connor’s 1990 breakthrough hit “Nothing Compares 2 U“, you might not have known that The Family had recorded it 5 years prior.

Prince would eventually record a live version as a duet with Rosie Gaines, which was included on the various iterations of his 1993 compilation The Hits. Also included on this compilation were Prince’s originals of “I Feel 4 U” (covered by Chaka Khan in 1984), and “When U Were Mine” (covered by Cyndi Lauper in 1983).

Killing Me Softly – Lori Lieberman

youtube

In 1996, the Fugees released their breakthrough mega-hit, “Killing Me Softly“. Not everyone knew it was a cover of a 1973 Roberta Flack song, but many did. Even fewer knew, however, that Flack’s rendition was itself a cover. The original, by Lori Lieberman in 1972, was a soft acoustic rendition of a poem. “His song” was Don McLean’s “Empty Chairs”.

The first cover could have turned out quite differently; according to Wikipedia:

Helen Reddy has said she was sent the song, but “the demo… sat on my turntable for months without being played because I didn’t like the title”.

Roberta Flack’s successful 1973 cover is still soft, but with some defining chord changes, and a slightly more soulful sound.

Further mutating the tune, The Fugees laid down their hip-hop version in 1996, to much acclaim.

If you poke around YouTube looking for versions of this song, you’ll probably find about a dozen copies of a crooner version credited to Frank Sinatra. It does kind of sound like The Chairman, but he never actually recorded it. That’s Perry Como, from his 1973 album And I Love You So.

Some Guys Have All The Luck – Persuaders

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3NWbvFsBVo

First released in 1973 by R&B group The Persuaders, Rod Stewart’s cover of “Some Guys Have All the Luck” served as one of the important hits of his 80s comeback (and his third time appearing on this list, what is it with this guy and covers?) In between those two versions, Robert Palmer also recorded his own version, with significantly altered lyrics and arrangement. Palmer’s version is probably the strangest, kind of a gritty new wave thing, reminiscent of Pete Shelley’s “Homosapien“.

There have been several other covers, including a gender swapped country version. Of special note is Maxi Priest’s 1987 rendition, which (mostly) returned to the original lyrics and arrangement, but with Maxi’s signature “reggae fusion” sound.

Tainted Love – Gloria Jones

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSehtaY6k1U

When Marilyn Manson covered “Tainted Love” in 2001 for the Not Another Teen Movie soundtrack, it was fairly common knowledge that he was covering a Soft Cell song. Soft Cell’s 1981 arrangement, however, was not the original. American soul singer Gloria Jones’ Motown-influenced version was a B-side for “My Bad Boy’s Comin’ Home”, which failed to make a lasting impression domestically. Jones herself, however, had very much made an impression in England, where she was dubbed the “Northern Queen of Soul”.

Eventually the song entered the radar of the synth-pop duo Soft Cell. Their 1981 version became their only major hit in North America, and one of the defining songs of the 80s.

Side notes and honorable mentions:

You might already knew that The Isley Brothers recorded “Twist and Shout” a year before The Beatles, but did you know that a group called The Top Notes recorded it a year before that?

“I Love Rock n Roll” by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, arguably one of the most ubiquitous and recognized songs of the modern era, was originally released by The Arrows in 1975.

Animotion’s “Obsession”, unofficial theme song of the fashion world for more than 30 years, was originally recorded by Michael Des Barres & Holly Knight.

Madonna’s “Ray of Light” was adapted from “Sepheryn” by Curtiss Maldoon, though it’s not a direct cover.

Led Zeppelin have a storied history of borrowing, adapting, and straight-up stealing. A cursory Google search will provide many articles and videos discussing this, but the two examples which I think best fit the theme are “Dazed and Confused”, originally by Jake Holmes, and “Stairway to Heaven”, adapted from “Taurus” by Spirit.

Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues” was adapted from “Crescent City Blues“, written by Gordon Jenkins and sung by Beverly Mahr. Also, more than half the songs on Cash’s 5 American Recordings albums are reinterpretations of a diverse selection of songs.

#music #cover songs #madonna #weird al yankovic #tom waits #beatles #cyndi lauper #bruce springsteen #killing me softly #twist and shout #johnny cash

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disaster-bay-leaf · 3 years

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Ok so these were the cutest~ (ㆁωㆁ)

4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 19, 22, 23, 28, 33, 34, 46, 47, 52, 59, 60, 63, 66, 83, 87, 88, 93, 99

I kno I listed like....all of them lmao but feel free to answer whichever you want and ofc you can ask me in return Baybe ( ◜‿◝ )♡

uHUHUHUHU much content for me to answer, im happy bebe 💜💜💜✨

4 - how do you take your coffee/tea?

hm coffee either Very Black No Sugar (for the sleep deprived me) or iced latte three sugars and theres no in between

and as for tea its All Black Teas That Exist, cinnamon-flavoured especially (but basically all teas that come to mind when u think “autumn”), and rooibos!!! okay basically the only oke i dont like is any type of green tea (which is sad because they look cool but my tastebuds said ✨no✨)

6 - do you keep plants?

honestly id l o v e too because i love plants but,,, im kinda horrible at taking care of them though still way better than the majority of my family (research helps) so the only plant i own is kinda a small-palm-tree-looking thing in a bigass glass jar that i saved from my mother’s plant-destructing hands and its mostly doing well (the ends of its leaves are starting to be yellow tho and im worried:((( )

7 - do you name your plants?

yes!!! though the current one was named by my sister and its called “pickett” after fantastic beasts shsjjsj

9 - do you like singing/humming to yourself?

oh god oh dude you have n o idea

i have absolutely n o singing voice but its something i do constantly to give my brain the right amount of stimuli so basically i listen to music 24/7 and hum to myself 99% of that time

12 - whats your favourite planet?

oh i actually didnt think about this for so long but either pluto (hes a planet screw nasa) or saturn (RINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) or venus (girls,,,and libra,,,)

19 - do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw in it?

okay im gonna be completely honest with yall and say that my every single try at keeping a journal failed spectacularly and i lost motivation after like a few months so my only journals rn are my fancy fake-leather-bound calendar to note tests and assessments into, a kinda roughed up notebook that i uses for noting down poems or scribbling or passing notes in class, and a kinda fancy bullet journal notebook that i used as a book of shadows for a while but since my fountain pen died i didnt touch it

22 - are you a morning person?

n o

i am so not a morning person but i wish i could be because honestly dawns are beautiful

but as it is rn im either sleep deprived all the time and loathe every second of being in an awake state or (if i have a few days of schoolbreak) my biological clock moves forward a few hours and i sleep 2am-10am

23 - whats your favourite thing to do on lazy days with zero obligations?

except for the fact that i dont remember the last time it happened, i would probably spend it drawing outside, watching anime with my sister and riding a bike around the forest

28 - sunrise or sunset?

i love sunrises because its so peaceful and everyone is asleep but also i subconsciously immediately correlate them with waiting for a train to take me to school (because thats basically the only time i see them) so its a bittersweet love especially with my fucked up biological clock

but sunsets are really really pretty too and i see them more often so i cant choose

33 - whats your fave pastry?

and isnt that a millior-dollar question dhsjjsjsj

either cinnamon rolls (i absolutely adore them) or that one specific type of cupcake-shaped-thing made out of shortcrust/bread/whatever its called and filled with vanilla pudding

34 - tell us about a stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

awwww this is cute

okay so basically my two favourite stuffed animals (i still have them, they sit in my wardrobe) were two teddy bears (like maybe 20cm high each of them) and one was pure brown and the other was silver-brown and they had stereotypical polish male names “Waldek” (read. Valdek) and Stefan (i think tho im not sure if i remember correctly, my memory is a feeble thing sometimes

46 - tell us the worst pun you can think of

what dog would never bite you? a hot dog *badumtss*

47 - what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

huh a year ago id say pineapple pizza but i guess i dont hate pineapples that much anymore (tho putting them on pizza is still an abomination) but i think that if id ever want to get rid of anything it would be parsley, i hate that freakin herb (does it count as food tho)

52 - what are your favourite memes of the year so far?

the ever given for sure shsjshjsjsjsjjsj

but bullying tramp stamps is gold and pure tumblr energy too

as for fandom memes: im in love with all keeping-up-with-the-todorokis variations and the fact that the entire bsd fandom looked at fukuchi and said “biTCH” and thats one of the only things we’re unanimous about

59 - whats your favourite myth?

i always liked the kora/persephone myth (though demeter is an overbearing parent to the nth power), loki and thor crossdressing at a party to get mjolnir back, atalanta because shes a queen and id politely ask her to kick my ass, and cassandra because she deserved better, and theres a l o t more because alas i was a mythology nerd but this post is long enough for me not to make this section 20 times longer sjjsjsjsjsjks

but there are a lot of slavic myths that are very cool too, though we dont know that much about them as about the greeks for example

60 - do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

o o o o h yeah i do like poetry because to create such a beautifully sounding thing with only words someone has to be a genius

some of my favs are: some works of nakahara chuuya (thank u bsd for introducing me to this man’s beautiful imagery in his works i swear to god the descriptions do it for me) (also his poem about having hangovers is a mood like i feel you buddy), the raven by ea poe (i know everyone likes it but hOLY DAMN THE INTER/INTRAVERSE RHYMES ARE LIKE,,, BREATHTAKING) (and aso im a slut for gothic horror), and many more but also That One Poem From Welcome To Nightvale about reaching the island in the west,,, only perfect vibes from it

63 - are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organised or kinda leave them be?

okay heres the thing. for anyone else both my playlist library and my bookshelf would be considered pure chaos of a mad man b u t they actually have a highly focused system which means that i sort them based on their vibes, lovability and (in case of books) their age and whether or not theyre a part of a series so i would say my bookshelf is rather organised (when a quarter of it isnt occupying my desk that is) and my music is more organised than not but sometimes it gets out of control and i have to sort it entirely again

66 - what would your ideal flower crown look like?

either entirely constructed of simple white daisies, entirely constructed of only white roses, or something that probably would win a “how many different coloured flowers can one fit in a flower crown” competition

or something purple (maybe not belladonna)

83 - whats some of your favourite album art?

god i dont know if it counts but hozier’s wasteland baby is probably one of my absolute favourites and no one shall beat that

“thrifted youth” (dalynn) and “standard deviation” (danny schmidt) have very aesthetic covers too

also the iconic p!atd too weird to live, too rare to die! album cover,,, its just iconic what can i say

and last but not least matt meason’s pink-and-black album covers (though bank on the funeral is really pretty too but like,,, “who killed matt meason” d o e s it for me and so does the 2017 tribulation single)

87 - what are some movies that you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

this is such a hard question because im not a really cinematography-oriented gal but i suppose that (at the risk of not going deep enough into the cinema world):

- the princess bride

- inception

- night at the museum

- SPIRITED AWAY

- forrest gump

- truman show

- E.T. (i cried okay)

- the lord of the rings (because damn me if this isnt one impressive adaptation)

- parasite

and one more personal recommendation: “ready or not” with samara weaving because goddamn i dont usually watch this genre but holy s h i t is it good

93 - whats the hairstyle you wear the most?

honestly just plain hair down (because having curly hair is a menace), split in the middle when i have longer hair and split on one side when its short

also low ponytails or half-up-half-down when im exercising, or double french braids when my hair doesnt cooperate enough to look presentable in any other form

99 - list some songs that resonate with your soul whenever you hear them

this is difficult because my music taste is a goddamn rollercoaster on a good day, but heres some:

- me and the sky from “come from away” musical (this is sort of a test song for my mental stability, if i cry i aint stable)

- dancing after death by matt meason (okay most songs by matt meason except for like,,, hallucinogenics maybe)

- tears and rain by james blunt

- i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie

- almost home by mxmtoon

- anything by hozier really but shrike especially

- payphone, the cover by alex g (i cried to this song so many times)

- burning pile by mother mother (can i roast all my problems please)

- long way from home and cleopatra by the lumineers

- autoclave by the mountain goats

oooh that was c o o o o o o o l as fuck thank you sm so much bebe (and sorry for the long post @everyone else)

#smadhuman being pure af #bay answers #long post #very long post #ask #asks

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treasure-my-aurora · 4 years

Text

Stars in his Eyes, Stars on his Cheeks

♣ 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦... 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭- 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭- 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢�� 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦- 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳- 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦- 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦.

♥ Rated Mature. Canon-compliant. Feelsy with a lot of pining, domestic tooth-rotting fluff and the softest ending.

♦ Words 3,464

(a/n: this was written before the mini fanmeeting vlive the 12th of July and I wasn’t aware that Chris, Felix and Changbin shared one room ♥)

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Chris was in deep trouble. First of all- he was in love, which was a sin of the highest order in itself, at least in his occupation. Second of all- the person he was in love with was also his best friend. Someone who’d been there for him for years. Someone who’d cheered him on and held his hand through the darkest times of his career. Someone who had listened when he, even though he’d lived in Korea for nearly a decade by now, couldn’t explain what he felt without using words in English. Someone that was three years younger than him- the definition of kindness, of joy and family.

Chris was in deep trouble- because he was in love with Felix. His group member- handpicked by himself when he saw the raw talent glimmer in his eyes. The potential in his singing and dancing. The charisma and charm he could show off- on stage, in interviews or when he talked to the other idols and staff of JYP. The way he’d grown into his own person, with a wholesome personality, so gifted and hardworking. Taking on every challenge with a smile. … Dear god above, Chris loved him so much it actually scared him. During the hardest moments when he felt that he couldn’t fully reach him, when all of them were just a mess. During their happiest moments when Felix seemed glued to him all the time. Talking to him, eating with him, presenting his tiny creations of food, and cooking with eyes that glimmered with hopefulness and flour that covered the sides of the black shirt he was wearing. Sleeping tucked neatly underneath his chin despite the warm summer weather outside… and Chris couldn’t complain… and he couldn’t say no- and he could feel how a part of him died and got resurrected every time Felix would thank him in their native language. For putting up with his demand of needing someone to cuddle when napping. For not saying anything when they woke up in a tangled mess of arms and legs, sweaty and nasty smelling. For Chris to keep quiet about the way he always, seemingly unknowing, left a small kiss on the older’s neck. But why would Chris complain about any of that, when he felt most at peace during those moments? When it felt like he could finally tell his own brain to just shut the fuck up, it actually listened for once and he could get enough hours to feel properly rested, holding Felix's small body close to his own. When everything else seemingly faded away and all that was left, echoing inside of his mind and soul, was the younger’s soft breathing against the crook of his neck and his pulse beating gently like a ticking clock, lulling Chris to sleep while he held his thumb over the younger’s wrist, counting them like one counts sheep.

Chris was in deep trouble. Not only because he was in love but because there was just something about Felix that sent his body flying and he could only sigh deeply because it felt like his dick had a life of its own. Moments passed more and more, especially now these past quarantined filled months, when he just couldn’t look away- no matter how hard he tried. Moments like early morning and they both just woke up, completely drenched in sweat despite the air con that had been installed just before summer and Chris should feel absolutely disgusted but Felix would smell so nice and feel so good stretched out beside him that it made him feel intoxicated. With his butt pressed hard against Chris’ crotch, perfectly embodied the tiny spoon position and the older would curse under his breath because he knew that he got a morning wood like a teenager who’d just learned how to masturbate. It was nasty and dirty, and he cursed himself again when Felix walked out of the shower, towel slipping around his waist while he dried his hair and put on coffee. Again when they had their regular two hours of dance practise, first thing when they’d arrived at the agency and Felix stretched his arms over his head, breathing deeply when the sockets in his arm popped and then leaned down without a care in the world, dipping way too deep and stretching his thighs apart way too far for Chris to be comfortable. Again when it was time for lunch and the younger literally moaned and rolled his eyes when he placed the food in his mouth. Again when they got home and he switched clothes to the regular oversized-black-shirt-and-trackpants combo that he loved so much and Chris tried his very, very best not to stare at the bulge in his pants, knowing perfectly well that the other wasn’t wearing anything underneath. By dinner, he felt like an exhausted mess, had gotten more random hard-ons than he could count and only needed a ten minute shower to cover up the tiny groans that accidentally slipped from his lips when he quickly jerked off, trying and trying again to imagine that his closed hand was anyone else’s- hell, even a pornstar would be better. But Felix still seemed to sneak his way into his mind, tip toeing until Chris couldn’t help it anymore and just gave up, sighing as his fantasy played up on his closed eyelids. Felix, with his small hand in a gentle grip around Chris’ leaking cock. Felix, who said his name in a hushed whisper while Chris’ mouth dropped when he rushed closer and closer to the finish line. Felix’s deep groan when he watched how Chris came all over his own hand and lower stomach…

Chris was in deep trouble because he wasn’t sure if Felix even remotely felt the same. They had been spending a lot of time together lately, whether it was work related or not and Chris had to admit that, even though it would exceed his wildest dreams, sometimes he swore he could see the familiar flame that he recognised in his own body- also flare up through the younger’s eyes. But then again, maybe Chris was just a body of comfort. Of warmth. Of familiarity. Of home. Of the brotherly bond of love he shared with everyone else. Maybe he just felt like he could trust the older and therefore slightly let go of the coiled-up tension he had in his body. Because there was a tension and it existed around all of them. Founded from living close to each other and from being up in each other’s business all the time. Elevated nearly constantly from anxiety, stress, pressure and without the means to just be left alone for a couple of minutes since they shared rooms with each other. It was tough, there was no denying that. But this is what they loved to do. What they wanted to do until they couldn’t physically do it anymore. Days passed quickly during their hectic schedule and Chris had been busy- busier than normal since the album they just released was the first studio length one. Jisung and Changbin had worked hard as well, of course and Chris had been thankful that he had such a good subunit, two talented people who helped him in every moment of the way forward- from making better decisions with their music, to just be there and supported him through the difficult decisions that only he, as their leader, could make. All of them had been there for him, really, all in their own way. There was no denying in that. But Felix- Felix, Felix, Felix. He had been Chris’ emotional support during the days when he doubted himself, when he didn’t see an end with a perfect album in sight, only the stress of putting the songs together, the strain that came with trying to finish the lyrics, the burden of getting an approval from their higher ups when it came to each song. He’d been there with him, helping the other two of the danceline with creating choreography for the music he’d made, helping him when it came to just being there. Like some kind of light in a dark tunnel. Chris wanted to laugh. It’s funny how everything worked out. He had everything he ever wanted. Love from friends and family. From fans from all around the world who cheered them on- cheered him on every time he turned on Vlive. A band of brotherhood, of a bond that he never thought he’d ever get in a group when boy after boy left the agency while he was still a trainee. Person after person that he’d gotten a connection with while being there for seven years. And then there he was- just a teenager, with dark brown wavy hair and eyes in a similar colour. Dressed in a red washed out shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts and gave the dance instructor a badly concealed, puzzled expression when he introduced Chris as their sunbaenim. The dance instructor had caught himself when he met Felix’s eyes and then explained shortly, “Your older brother who works here too” and Felix had looked even more puzzled. But Chris… Chris just inhaled deeply, in an awkward gasp when he heard the familiar English language, before shortening the distance between them in a few steps, extended his hand and Felix looked at him with a mixture of surprise and shock before he took his hand. “I’m Christopher, from Australia” And those brown eyes crinkled when the younger broke out in a bright smile. “Felix, from Australia” And Chris was trapped like a fish on a hook. Swallowed the bait completely and without regret when he met those eyes the next day, and the next, and the next. And Felix looked at him with the same gaze every time… With wonder, astonishment, and adoration… and Chris tried not to think about it. Tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered when weeks turned to months and months turned to years. Tried to ignore the way the younger grew up before him, from an awkward teenager who barely understood the language- to a young man who exceeded in everything he did so brilliantly that it caught him off guard at times. Not that it had ever been easily; no, not at all. And that might be why Chris had such an immense respect for him, because he’d worked so hard to be where he was right now, with them- his team, and with Chris- as an equal in so much.

'Fuck’ he sighed to himself when he looked back at the moments that had shaped them and made them grew as a group. He sat in his studio, more as an excuse to have a moment for himself and his thoughts than to actually work on something. It was late- the small digital clock on the screen in the corner of his laptop had passed 1 am and he was alone. Or well, so he thought- the knock on the door made him jump from surprise and he shouted out a broken “It’s open” before he combed a hand through his dirty hair, hoping that the one on the other side could forgive that he hadn’t taken a shower since they all came back from the latest showcase. A warm smile on a familiar figure made his heart skip though and he smiled back without hesitation, waving his hand as a silent ‘welcome in’ “Hiyya” he said, and Felix combed a hand through the hair in the back of his neck when he sat down with a small huff in one of the black chairs. Damp hair clung to the sweat on his forehead, and his chest still constricted hard when he slumped down before snapping his head to the sides, stretched his arms over his head, and Chris cringed only slightly when popping noises followed. “Hiyya” Felix repeated and combed back his hair before he wiped away some sweat with the back of his hand, “Where have you been?” Chris asked while swinging his chair back and forth, watching the younger with an awkward admiration and hoped that the warm fuzzy feeling he felt in his chest didn’t show up too much in his face, “Working out. Why, did you miss me?” Felix asked casually while flapping his shirt to allow some air to flow between it and his chest. Chris didn’t glance at abs, or the way his frame was shaped. No way in hell. “I always do” Chris answered and pulled the younger towards him, “You’re my favourite little bro” “But hyung” Felix complained, voice muffled against Chris’ shirt, “I’m not little anymore” No, his Lixie wasn’t little anymore. He could feel it on the muscles that worked underneath the damp black oversized tee he wore. On the musky smell of the whole days old deodorant. On the expensive cologne sprayed on his neck. On the deep matured voice of his when he cleared his throat after Chris let him go. “But you’ll always be my-” “Chris” Felix interrupted. With no honorific that he always, so very politely, added. Without any forewarning whatsoever. Without any aggressiveness in his voice at all. Without being confrontational or hostile or rude. “Chris… I-” he started again. He waited, paused as if he wanted the older to scold him. To assert him. But Chris didn’t say anything. Because he was scared of what Felix would say. If he was simply tired of the way Chris acted around him. If he finally saw through the protective shell Chris had built around him when it came to his feelings. Felt his blood boil with pure panic when Felix didn’t say anything else and just stood up. “Come home tonight, please…” he begged and looked at the older with those eyes again. The same ones he used to have what back then what now felt like ages ago, when he tried to pick up what was said in Korean around him. Puzzled, sad, confused, hurt. “I’ll even bake those chocolate chip cookies you want so bad, first thing after I’ve showered, ok?” he tried to bait. And Chris swallowed it. Again. Like so many times before. As if he’d ever been able to say no to Felix anyway. “I will. Give me an hour” Chris answered, and Felix gave him another small smile before he disappeared from the doorframe and walked down the corridor outside. Chris spun back in his chair. Tried to not think about how shallow that smile of the other had looked. How it never reached his eyes. How it had never done that before.

It was raining while he slowly jogged home and he was thankful that he’d brought an umbrella just in case. The apartment was silent and dark when he entered and he carefully kicked off his shoes and went to the bathroom connected to the bedroom he shared with Minho, Seungmin and Hyunjin since it was right next to the hallway. Washed his hands carefully before drying off some of the rain and sweat he’d gotten in his face from the jog before he walked out again, feet taking one step after another towards the kitchen. He’d smiled brightly when he smelled the cookies in the stairwell outside the apartment and the happiness bloomed even bigger when he saw that Felix was still awake. Sitting in one of the chairs at the small glazed in balcony in the far back, phone in one hand and cookie in the other. He was just about to take a bite of it when he noticed Chris and jumped up on his feet, nearly running up to him to prevent him from grabbing a cookie on the tray at the counter. “Wait” he exclaimed in a hurried, loud whisper, “come with me” He grabbed the tray, waved his hand for Chris to follow and walked them both out on the balcony again. The rain smattered happily against the roof and thanks to the summer season, it was already starting to get lighter outside. Felix put the tray on the table, gave Chris a small smile and then fished out a blindfold, Felix’s own that he usually wore to bed now since they slept through the morning, and Chris gave him a small questioning smile. “Bear with me, hyung. I want you to enjoy them without thinking too much of how they look” “But I already know how they look” Chris replied, completely at a loss of what was going on and Felix rolled his eyes, “Yeah, because I didn’t hear you coming home. Just… please?” he begged, and Chris had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something else. Like an awkward ‘Yeah sure but only if I get a small kiss on the cheek first’ followed by an embarrassed laugh or even a full on ramble of ‘Yeah, and by the way; you look way too good for the time to be this late. Like you literally just got a shower. Your hair is poufy and slightly static from the lack of products and you look tired as hell but dear fucking god- you’re so beautiful its hurts’ “Sure” he simply said instead and closed his eyes while Felix walked around him to fasten the blindfold. Maybe he felt his heart skip a beat when he tried to open his eyes again and was met by darkness, except a small gap of light right next to his nose. Maybe he felt a sharp sucked in feeling, like he was above a big drop in a rollercoaster when Felix carefully sat him down in the chair that he’d been sitting in. Maybe he felt his breath hitch when he heard how Felix grabbed a cookie from the tray, sat down himself and pulled the other cheap, plastic, garden chair close enough that their kneecaps rubbed together. “Say ah” Felix said with a voice that seemed even deeper now when he was so close, and Chris couldn’t see the wonderful person it was attached to. He opened his mouth non the less and carefully closed his lips around a pair of small short fingertips when the younger planted a bit of baked cookie dough in his mouth. “Be careful” Felix chuckled, “I still like to keep my fingers” “Sorry” Chris mumbled while he gently chewed the baked dough, “Did you make this from scratch?” he asked and Felix sighed deeply, “Uh- yeah… sorry if it isn’t good. I’ve never made soft cookies before and I just found a random recipe off the internet and-” “No-” Chris interrupted, “no, it’s good. It’s really good. Just like mom used to make them back home” “Oh” Chris had seen Felix blush enough times to know the tone of voice he used when he felt shy and proud and he could nearly see the colour his cheeks got dusted in the darkness from the blindfold. “Try this next” Felix continued, and Chris opened his mouth again. Chocolate. Felix had used real, proper chocolate as well, and he could taste from the angled edge, that he must’ve chopped it up himself as well. “Just what I was missing” Chris smiled and heard how Felix snorted out a gentle chuckle as well, “I hope you’re planning on giving me the whole cookie as well” Chris started and opened his mouth on cue when he heard how Felix shifted again, “Yep, here” Felix said, and Chris was home. Home with the familiar chocolate chip cookies. Home with Felix. Home with Felix in his family home. Home with- “and here” Felix continued when Chris had swallowed. Felix lips. Felix’s hands on his chest when he had to stabilise himself. Felix’s gentle gasp when Chris kissed him back. Felix’s sharp inhale of surprise when Chris lifted his hands to untie the blindfold over his eyes. Felix’s giggle against his lips when Chris pulled them apart, just to look into his eyes and make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. Felix’s deep, growling whimper when Chris pulled him into his lap. Chris’ heart beating like he’d just ran a marathon when Felix whispered out a hushed “I love you” in the air between them. Chris’ heart singing when he whispered back “I love you too” And he gently pulled them apart again, cupped the younger’s face in his hands and watched how Felix broke out in a smile that made his eyes crinkle when Chris stroked his thumbs down the freckles on his cheekbones. Slowly kissed his lips again and remembered back when they were teenagers. When he first fell in love with a boy; who had stars in his eyes, and stars on his cheeks.

#stray kids felix #stray kids chan #lee felix #bang chan #bang chan/felix #chanlix #chanlix fanfic #skz Felix #skz bang chan

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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Mina Tindle Interview: A Natural Frame

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The release of Mina Tindle’s SISTER last October was supposed to be accompanied by an ambitious live show and an hour-long film made up of visuals for its nine captivating songs. After all, these sorts of artistic deep dives are what the project of Pauline de Lassus is all about. But when it became clear last summer--the summer of COVID-19--that neither could be easily achieved or achieved any time soon, de Lassus let go of her inhibitions. Recorded and filmed during a specific time last summer in France when the virus was more under control and travel/lockdown restrictions were somewhat lifted, The LFO/Blogothèque Sessions present stripped-back versions of some songs from SISTER as well as a track that didn’t make the cut. With help from Kate Stables (This Is The Kit), de Lassus’ husband Bryce Dessner (The National), and David Chalmin, and in collaboration with French production company La Blogothèque, de Lassus presents the songs in new ways. The percussive gallop of “Fire and Sun” presents itself more in Dessner’s guitar in the live version. Vocal harmonies and guitar take the place of beats and strings on “Belle Pénitence”. A cover of Sufjan Stevens’ “Give A Little Love”, whose album version features Stevens and his quintessentially Reichian arpeggios, is all about the harmonies between de Lassus and Stables. And “Indigo”, never recorded, is buoyed by Dessner’s spritely, finger-picked guitar.

As much as these sessions have the feel of a fleeting moment--that should the group have decided to play them on, say, a different day, that they would take another shape--they’re also very much a product of place. For one, it wouldn’t have happened had de Lassus been somewhere without access to a studio, let alone with lesser restrictions. The accompanying videos--just as much a part of the release as the audio--were shot from de Lassus and Dessner’s new home in the South of France, where they moved from Paris with their child. The almost mystical, beautiful quality of the surroundings makes me think of what de Lassus told me over the phone last month about “the fantasy of having a live show.” With a camera capturing moments where the group decided to just go for it, it’s got that live quality, but like the best “live albums,” make you hungry to experience the music in person for yourself.

The LFO/Blogothèque Sessions was released on Friday via 37d03d, the “people” label. (“They give their artists a lot of freedom and love,” de Lassus said. “They’re amazing...I don’t think I would have put the record out if it wasn’t with them.”) Read our conversation about adapting the songs to a new setting, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Did you always want to do stripped-down versions of these songs, or was the occasion of lockdown restrictions being lifted the inspiration?

Pauline de Lassus: Something I love doing is having nice visuals or working on videos. I had a big project for this record, a film the length of the 9 songs--I wanted to make a movie. But it was a totally different object, an homage to [Norman] McLaren. I wanted to do a one-hour long video. Everything was cancelled because of COVID, and I ended up doing all the videos myself. Do it yourself, like back in the days. I chose women I love dancing, and it was nice to work on. But it’s really nice when it’s professional. I knew there would not be any shows for this record--maybe in a few years. So I had the idea of trying to capture that. I did it with basically family--Kate Stables, Bryce is my husband, and David is a really close friend. Doing it in the safest environment possible. It was really nice.

SILY: Was it natural to strip down these songs? How did you adapt them to the setting?

Pauline: We just played them. We kind of worked on it with Bryce a bit. He’s really good at that. When I got the chance to tour with The National, I saw they record an album and know all the songs, because they work on it for months. We did maybe four days of rehearsal in Paris to start the tour, and that was it, and after four days, they played the songs over and over. There were like 50 of them. By the end they went on stage and just played the music. I remember thinking, “Woah.” My way of doing it would be to overplay or overwork them to try to get the right version instead of just playing the music. It’s more the fact that they play it a lot that it turned into something they like. Because these songs were so minimal, we didn’t have to sing too much.

SILY: It seems like certain qualities of the songs you kept but achieved them in a different way, like the forward gallop in the drum beat on the SISTER version of “Fire and Sun”, you get more in the guitar here, whereas for “Belle Pénitence”, the emphasis is more on the vocal harmonies and the guitar than on the strings and the beats like on SISTER. Did that, too, kind of come naturally from just playing them?

Pauline: I think we just played them. I love making records. It’s one of the things I love doing the most. I don’t mind if it takes 5 years, and I don’t mind a quick record, but working in the studio is a really different process. You can add all the things you want. It’s kind of magic. These days, it’s not on tape, so you can erase the minute after. It’s really an experimental place.

Playing them [live], I have one of the greatest musicians and guitar players in Bryce. He can get the essence of the song really easily. And the soul of Kate, we love singing together; every time, something happens. I think it was a way to sing with more space. We weren’t trying to mimic any existing version, which is great, because I’ve been touring with Mina Tindle for years where the expectation was I am trying to mimic the record. The up-tempo song had to be up-tempo. This time, it was extremely free. It was really nice, because what I needed was really little. Two instruments, two singers, that’s it. We wanted to play them acoustic, which is sometimes a challenge.

SILY: What you said about playing them with more space really stood out to me on the EP version of “Indian Summer”. You have this piano ballad as opposed to something that’s more all over the place.

Pauline: I love both! In the past, I’ve been slow at making records. Sometimes, I just have the demo, and it’s the first draft, and it’s good. That’s why I like the idea of having a live recording, because it has to be straight and honest right away. In a way, I feel like you interpret it differently, also, because it’s one shot. Maybe we had two shots, but there was no editing.

SILY: How did you get around not having Sufjan’s presence on “Give A Little Love”?

Pauline: When I sing that song, I always try to be at the level of his song. He’s the sweetest person, so he couldn’t care less--he’d give me freedom to adapt the song [even] metal or AC/DC style. He’s a free mind. It’s sweet because I’m more shy when it’s my songs, but I love covering songs that I love. [Feist and I] did this tribute to Lhasa de Sela, who is one of my favorite singers ever. She passed away when she was really young. We had a love for her music and ended up making a show that we played in London and France and Ireland and Berlin, where we were covering her songs. It was one of my favorite things to do. It’s an ode to my love to music, whereas when I sing my songs, I feel more shy or intimidated to open up. Sometimes, I really wonder why I open my heart. When it’s someone else, I feel happy they’re connecting.

SILY: What’s the story behind the new song on this release, “Indigo”?

Pauline: “Indigo” is the black sheep of the record. It was many people’s favorite song, but I had 5 versions of it I couldn’t choose from. When I ended up not putting it on SISTER, I was really happy. I felt relieved. I didn’t know where to put it. I tried to mix it with different people, but it was never right. Kate had sung that song with me many times, so she knew it, and this was the right way to do it. I felt totally fine presenting that version. This EP is a way to free up any vision. It is what it is. That’s why it was on that record, because we really wanted to sing that song together. It’s a story of a separation, if I remember correctly. Losing each other. I remember being obsessed with the idea of losing someone you really love. It was not my personal life; fortunately, I was doing pretty okay. But having a kid is a total volcano in your life, and I was looking at many people around me who seemed to not be okay, living through that experience, so it was a song about how you can tear apart when something’s supposed to make you closer.

SILY: You could have a whole rarities release of different versions of “Indigo” as your next release.

Pauline: Yeah. I don’t think anybody would like to listen to it. [laughs] The same song four times.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art of this release?

Pauline: It’s Kate and I dancing. We were really happy because we did [the recording] in two days. We had an extra day with her, so we did some stuff for her, and we were just dancing. There was a huge storm--the weather where we are is crazy. It can rain and be super shiny in twenty minutes. So we had this crazy summer storm and started dancing as if it was a mirror and improvising the dancing. We are not dancers. [laughs] But we had a lot of fun. This red window is the typical colors of the architecture in the region. It’s actually in my house. I’ve already taken so many pictures of people inside and outside that window, because the window reflects the landscape behind. It’s so beautiful. It’s like a natural frame, and whatever you put inside, it’s kind of logical.

SILY: Are you planning or able to do live shows or live streams?

Pauline: As I told you, I intended to do way bigger or ambitious thing at first, because I kind of hate videos for music--or I never watch them. For me, the music is not more important, but enough. So when you do videos, it’s nice when you have something unique. We couldn’t do that movie I was thinking about, so putting money into trying to make a beautiful live performance was it. I was happy with it.

A livestream, maybe under certain conditions, but it’s a really strange period where even more than before, while I’m happy to give and share what I’m creating, but privacy is more something I’m into these days.

SILY: Livestreams do have that bedroom aspect.

Pauline: It’s kind of an exhibitionist thing I’ve never had. I’ve always felt conflicted about it with social media. It’s like opening your house to people. I’m not judging people who do it--you can do it really healthily--but I don’t feel comfortable. So far, I’ve said no to a lot of stuff.

SILY: Some of the best ones I’ve seen have skirted the home recording feel because they’re recorded at an actual venue and professionally edited. It’s not really live, but it’s at least for the time being something a little bit in between.

Pauline: We should look forward to live shows coming back, not necessarily doing bad performances. Like with social media, we now see 30-second music extracts, like on TikTok. The quality is not getting better. We don’t have to share everything the universe is offering to us. Sometimes it’s better to hold back and wait. That’s totally my point, though. Of course, when you’re in your 20s, you should do whatever you want to do, but at this point in my life, I don’t feel the urge to constantly express myself. I’m just old, you know? [laughs]

SILY: What else have you been up to lately?

Pauline: I’m doing a lot of things not related to music. I’m illustrating a book that’s more for children. It’s around music. I’m busy spending my days painting and drawing, and I love it. It’s creative, but it’s nice to take a break from music. The final collection is gonna be really cool.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

Pauline: Besides two children’s books a week. You can see there’s a big switch in illustrations for kids books. You can spend a whole day at the library in the kid’s section. It’s so impressive and beautiful.

My knowledge in feminism was really bad, so the last 6 months, I’ve been reading everything I can on the subject and listening to podcasts. It’s basically my routine. I thought I wasn’t feminist, but I am.

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void-tiger · 3 years

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Tagged by @curiosity-killed (thanks for the tag!!)

roses or daisies:

DAISIES!!! They’re so simple and cheery have just as many colors and look delicate but are actually really tenacious? Also, how charming is Day’s Eye (and asters in general having the habit of facing eachother if they’re not turned towards the light--I think I have a picture of dahlias doing this from last autumn--and like. Star Flower. Okay, I’ll shut up now xD )

classical or lofi:

...okay so I admit I had to look this one up. But easily some of my favorite tracks are those Hidden Ones that bands plop onto their albums to fill up leftover space, but are often basically just scrapped recording or practice sessions? The bloopers and their creative process, basically. Cut to me googling and youtubing it and finding hiphop lofi and...yeah! Definitely Lofi.

(Classical vs OST and Modern Classical (that’s composed to be a lot more cinematic) just...really puts me on edge. It’s too mathematical...to put it nicely.)

So...yeah. Slow beats and something that sounds experimental or like a jamming session? It’s soothing and kinda ideal for background noise.

sunrises or sunsets:

Sunset. One, never ever gonna be a “morning person”. Forget it. Two, sunsets often have more dramatic colors and still make the landscape glow and you get to see stars peeping out vs fading. Also, y’know. I’m actually awake to appreciate it vs groggy and legit physically ill.

honey or lemon:

Honey as a condiment. Lemon for sweets flavor. (Baklava’s probably the exception...then again I haven’t had that many honey-flavored sweets, I guess? But Lemon-Poppyseed?? Definitely one of my favorites,)

coffee or tea:

Coffee. I adore tea service aesthetics and will someday probably collect them (especially the really quirky or earthen or blownglass ones vs the froufrou european ones)...buuuut, I just haven’t really had A Good Cuppa Tea much at all. There was this spiced tea I’ve had in Jordan that was AMAZING and I do like greentea (with...A LOT of sugar or honey...) but. I’ve just never really had tea. My family’s coffee drinkers, so the smell of coffee is nostalgic. (And yes, I’m basic enough that I prefer flavored, sweetened creamers; and my coffee brewed or spiced with, like, cinnamon and nutmeg, too. Or as a mocha.)

...I also have a Bad Habit of abandoning my Herbal “Teas” with the bags either left steeping too long (I have gotten better at using a timer) or while waiting for them to cool. And while I’d just really love it for Uncle Iroh to make me tea (provided he doesn’t get on my case about wanting sugar and maybe cream), the Times and Temperatures are just so dang fussy!! I...don’t think I have the patience for that.

enemies to lovers or friends to lovers:

Friends to Lovers. I just...don’t Get It with the sexual tension~ that seems to be the driving force behind enemies to lovers...I guess?? (That, and unless it’s literally on a battlefield, HARD PASS. I’ve had people try to blow off my complaints about getting repeatedly tormented as “he liiiiiikes you~” bullshit to ever be comfortable with it as anything but Legit Two Sides Of A Battle/Political Conflict. Sorry.)

But, Friends to Lovers? That Bond. And then the ...Oh. The domesticity and trust and safety. Also it is RIPE for Idiots to Lovers mutual pining xD

(bonus points if both parties decide ahead of time, “hey. even if dating doesn’t work out I still value your friendship in my life, so no pressure about ‘ruining things,’“ And then, of course, it does work out and there was nothing to be anxious about, after all.)

rainy days or sunny days:

...cop out but, overcast days with Soft Sunlight and Cloudbreaks?? I do like a clear skies sunny day, but, my eyes are also so sensitive to light that it can be painful. Rainy days can be soothing...but the rain has to be A Certain Way. Too heavy and with too much wind behind it and it can get me anxious. (My childhood home had Every Rain is Severe Weather...with no place to shelter. It’s gonna take awhile before i can appreciate it like i’d want.)

jupiter or mars:

Jupiter. GIANT. DEADLY. MARBLE (that wants to eeeaaat meeeee...) Also Pluto, and the jovian moons.

aphrodite or athena:

Athena!! She’s an ace icon, aight?? And also strikes me as...very, very Tired with everyone’s bullshit. Also...all the greek gods are kinda assholes. So. Yeah. She ain’t perfect and her characterization’s at the mercy of whatever myth in question, but generally she strikes me as practical and sensible and having Mercy...sometimes. As much as that group is capable of it, anyway...

rome or greece:

...probably Ancient Rome as a “ancient culture to explore but a YIKES (but. so is ancient greece.)” But visiting IRL in the present? Greece.

sun or moon:

Moon. I appreciate what the sun does and I do like feeling sunlight and all that...but, I’m also a night person. And I can look at the moon without risk of blindness and admire its corona and that rainbow corona you can see just a bit further out if you know where and how to look. BUT. The moon easily loses out to a starfield, especially if the light pollution and humidity are both low enough that ya get to actually see the milky way’s galaxy arm. (The irony that the sun IS our local star does not elude me.)

1920s or 1990s:

...neither?? 90s only slightly win out ‘cause I’m a ‘93 Kid and the 90s and 00s had some incredible toys and cartoons. And, idk. I still like overall pants and shorts. Always have. While a flapper dress would be “oooh pretty! starlight beading! Now OFF. Back to regular clothes for ‘Sporing or Comfy Lounging.”

blizzard or thunderstorm:

Blizzard. Also. Have you considered...thundersnow??

(Admittedly? I’ve also never been through a snowstorm that threatened by health&safety. The same cannot be said about thunderstorms when nearly every one could or would spawn tornados and severe straightline winds that could knock down trees and powerlines and sometimes even damage homes. While living in a home with NO safe place to shelter. Not even an interior closet or bathroom. NOT. FUN.)

midnight memories or made in the am:

...what?? [googles] ...OH...they’re...albums. UH. Neither?? (I don’t listen to them...?)

sage green or vanilla white:

Sage green. It’s kinda a nostalgic color somehow? Also. Just not a fan of monochrome...at all. I see it? I instantly want it to be a backdrop. Negative space. For COLOR. (jewel tones for whites/light neutrals and browns; NEONS for blacks and dark greys. Preference for Jewel Tones over Neons...wait. What was the question again??? OH YEAH..uh... I do like vanilla icecream? With rainbow sprinkles. Or...paired with hot fruit pie or cobbler. Or cookies. Um...yeah I should prolly shutup now. xD )

folklore or lover:

...I don’t...understand??? But...I like Folkslore as in...folklore??? Fairytales, Legends, Myths... (also, so frikkin ace I’m just. not ever gonna pick “lover”)

croissant or macaroon:

...why would you do this to me. I make a beeline for croissants because...Soft Flaky Buttery Bread. And they are So Good as a savory sandwich sorta thing. Easily better than english muffins or crumpets, tho biscuits have a fighting chance. But LIKE. Soft breads. My weakness as a kid.

...but a good macaroon?? It is so light and crisp and TINY and like?? how does it taste like coffee??? and berries????? (Too bad they are So EXPENSIVE. While even cheap croissants are almost always Good.)

ballgowns or pantsuits:

I like the aesthetics of a ballgown. But never the pricetag, I wouldn’t wanna live in that thing for more than an hour, tops (and. so much damn work!!) and I’m stuck looking at them Defying (boob) Physics and just...dying a little inside. With my rare It Pretty Want Pretty wilting with it. But...it’s rare that pantsuits really...look like anything. (They also look uncomfortable and yet another Wardrobe Disaster and Do I HAVE To??? if I think about...actually wearing them. But, Legs Free No Tripping...I guess??)

hades or zeus:

I only wanna EVER meet Zeus if I get to castrate the bastard and lock ‘im up where he’ll NEVER get back out. Hades, tho...I’m WATCHING you, Bub. (Why yes, I agree with Demeter on this one.)

platonic love or sensual love:

Platonic. Cuddling and Kissing are technically Sensual but, y’know what? They ain’t exclusive to sexual or romantic loves (and I just. really do not want kissing at all. MAYBE a quick kiss on the forehead or fingertips but LIKE. That’s it. And it’s cute af for...literally ANY Love Type.)

light academia or cottagecore:

Honestly? A mix between the two. Cottagecore with my charming little home with its overgrown flowerbed of wildflowers (and asters! All the asters) and produce grown in large pots or hanging baskets...and inside the walls are covered with overflowing shelves of books and knicknacks and other Neat Things. Oh, and naturally a tea service (might not actually have tea in it...) and tons of pillows and blankets, and lamps and lanterns Everywhere for warm and soft (and colorful) light to read by while music plays softly in the background. And the home smells like something I just made for Supper or Snacks, or like a food-scented candle.

Aaaaaand tagging @mckinlily @headspacedad @aairachnid @synergetic-prose and whoever else wants to play! No obligation to play if tagged.

#tagged meme #tiger’s musings #long post

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teaplease1717 · 4 years

Text

Pieces of You - Drabble 2

Drabble 2: Gift for Honwaka

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto / Yaoyorozu Momo

Category: Fluff and Slice of Life

Rating: G

Art Link: https://twitter.com/honwaka_zz/status/1153324401296732161

Story Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25935277/chapters/63692128#workskin

Thank you to 666-HyuugaNeji-999 and Emberstork for betaing this drabble.

This second piece is dedicated to the wonderful and amazingly talented Honwaka. I love all of Honwaka’s works, and it was so hard to choose which to write about. In the end, I decided on this fluffier piece to celebrate what would have been my wedding day (Aug 29th) if not for Covid.

Anyways, second try at present tense. Hope you enjoy this drabble that got way out of hand.

XXXXXX

“Todoroki-san?”

Shouto looks up at the sudden sound of his name cutting through the music. His heart skips a beat.

“Yaoyorozu.”

Her expression brightens. “I thought it was you.” She looks around the almost empty subway platform. “Where are Midoriya-san and Bakugo-san? They intern with you as well, no?”

She’s wearing a printed blue ruffled top and tight fitting skirt. A large, white bag hangs from her left shoulder. And her long, black hair is out of its usual high ponytail. It curls loosely down her back, shining faintly with the telltale signs of a fresh shower.

She must have just gotten off of her internship as well, he realizes.

Shouto pulls his left headphone out of his ear as he turns to face her. “Midoriya promised his mom he’d go home for dinner, and I think Bakugo went somewhere with Kirishima and Kaminari.”

Yaoyorozu’s expression flickers in understanding. “Oh, I see.” Her white heels click against the grey tiled floor of the subway platform as she moves closer.

“In that case...” Yaoyorozu smiles up at him. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Shouto’s mouth feels dry. “We’re going to the same place."

She hums softly and then straightens, tucking her loose bangs behind her ear. “Still...I don’t want to be a bother if you wanted time for yourself.”

He shrugs with one shoulder, avoiding her eyes.

“It's fine.” He swallows. His fingers tighten around the handle of his metal hero briefcase. “You’re never a bother."

Yaoyorozu’s eyes widen faintly. Then her mouth curves into a small, almost bashful smile that has his chest tightening. “Thank you, Todoroki-san. I’m – It makes me glad to hear that.”

Shouto feels warmth wrap in his chest, and he looks away as they lapse into silence.

He doesn’t understand why, but lately Yaoyorozu’s presence makes him feel strange. Not in a bad way, but – different. As if he is sinking and flying at the same time.

Shouto reaches up and rolls the loose headphone hanging in front of him between his fingertips. He really needs to remember to ask Midoriya if these feelings are a normal part of friendships or if he’s under the influence of some sort of quirk.

Sudden peals of laughter float down the platform, drawing him from his thoughts. Shouto looks over and watches as a group of girls step onto the platform, making their way closer. They are wearing high school uniforms from another school.

One of the girls catches sight of him, and then quickly turns to the others. They break out into giggles, murmuring quickly amongst each other as they pass.

Shouto turns his head away and shifts slightly closer to Yaoyorozu. He can feel their eyes on him.

His jaw twitches.

People have always gawked at him because of his scar or because he is the son of Endeavor, but lately their stares have been intensifying.

He glances down to watch Yaoyorozu rummage through her overly large bag and feels his annoyance lessen.

That is another thing that has happened recently: he can never stay angry for long when around her.

Yaoyorozu's expression suddenly lights up and she pulls out two energy bars.

"I knew I brought a couple." She looks back up to him, unaware of his earlier thoughts.

"Would you like one?" She holds out a bar to him. Her cheeks are still a little red.

Shouto stares at it for a moment before nodding. "Thanks," he says, taking it.

He unwraps the package and takes a bite.

The energy bar tastes like cashews and honey; perfect to replenish her lipids.

“How’s training going with Endeavor-san?” Yaoyorozu asks, once they finish. She licks her fingertips demurely.

He shrugs and crumples the wrapper in his hand. “It’s going.”

There really isn’t much else to say.

The anger he still feels for his old man hasn’t entirely faded. It lingers like an ember in the back of his thoughts. And only when each day ends, does Shouto realize how it unconsciously strains him.

Still, he knows it is the right decision. If he wants to be a top hero, following the old man is the best option.

Yaoyorou looks up at him. "I'm glad." Sincerity glows in her dark eyes.

It makes him feel strange, like she is reading his soul. Shouto looks away and clears his throat, sliding his hand into his jean pocket.

“You’re - with Majestic?” he asks after a second, his voice hesitant.

She nods happily and Shouto feels instant relief that he got it right.

“Yes.” Yaoyorozu straightens proudly. “It's been a very good experience. Majestic-san is a wonderful teacher and I’m learning a lot, but...” Shouto watches as she brings a hand up and yawns. “I’m so tired by the end of the day.”

Shouto feels his lips twitch up at the side. “Yeah, me too,” he admits.

Small vibrations shake the platform and a woman’s voice suddenly announces the arrival of their train over a loudspeaker.

Shouto’s fingers tighten around the handle of his metal briefcase as the train stops in front of them.

The doors slide open and he follows Yaoyorozu into the car.

It’s almost empty. A few sleepy businessmen sit scattered on the otherwise vacant lime-green benches lining the walls of the compartment. Yaoyorozu moves to a free section and sits down, adjusting her bag on her lap.

Shouto drops into the seat next to her. He sighs as he places his suitcase on the floor, between his feet, before straightening and leaning back in the plastic seat.

The doors close with a ding, and the train rocks slightly as it pulls out of the station and towards U.A. Golden hues suddenly flood the compartment from behind his head as the train exits the underground station.

It is getting late. He pulls out his phone and clicks the power button.

Almost eight.

If it wasn’t the peak of summer it would already be dark.

He looks out the window; bright orange and red tones brush across the sky as the sun dips towards the cloudless horizon. Shifting, Shouto glances back towards Yaoyorozu as she covers another yawn.

He watches her absently hug her white bag closer.

The bag is stupidly large, and looks like it’s for groceries, but the fabric and blue lettering scrolled across the side make Shouto think it’s expensive.

Designer? It wouldn’t be surprising, Yaoyorozu is from a wealthy family after all.

A tip of red peeks out from the top of the bag, catching Shouto’s attention. Realization strikes him. Is that what she keeps her hero outfit in?

It doesn’t seem the most practical, but he knows Yaoyorozu to always be practical. Shouto tilts his head back to stare blankly at the advertisements lining the opposite side of the compartment.

Thinking about it, Shouto’s only ever seen her carry around a small shoulder bag before. She must need to bring a lot of stuff to and from school if she needs a bag that big. He knows women in general need more things to get ready then men. The bathroom he shares with his sister back at his family’s house is evidence of that.

“What are you listening to, Todoroki-san?”

Shouto blinks as her voice draws him out of his thoughts. He looks down at his phone. He forgot the music was still playing.

Shouto taps the screen. The name of the band flashes across the top.

“BTS,” he reads.

Yaoyorozu’s expression brightens. She clasps her hands together. “Oh! To be expected of Todoroki-san,” she hums, her eyes turning into twinkling crescent moons.

The air around him suddenly feels constricting.

Shouto looks away and clears his throat. “Uraraka told me to listen to them,” he forces out. His voice sounds tighter than usual.

"Well, I’m glad.” Yaoyorozu leans closer. “They’re one of my favorite bands. Which song of theirs is your favorite so far?” Her eyes glitter.

Shouto’s heart beats faster.

“I don’t know.” He looks back down at his phone and taps on the screen again. “I’ve only listened to their first couple of songs.”

Yaoyorozu’s eyes widen marginally and her grin widens. “Let me know when you’ve listened to Black Swan - it’s my favorite from their newest album.”

Shouto hums, scrolling through his phone. He finds the name. He hasn’t listened to that one yet. Or he did, but wasn’t paying attention. “Sure.”

Yaoyorozu studies him for a moment before closing her eyes. Shouto looks up as she abruptly begins to sing.

Her voice is a soft soprano.

“Do your thing. Do your thing with me now.”

The train suddenly feels empty, like it is just the two of them.

“Do your thing. Do your thing with me now. What’s my thing? What’s my thing, tell me now…”

Her eyes flutter open and she smiles up at him, her cheeks flushing abashedly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” she almost whispers.

Shouto’s lips twitch. “Which one is that?” His voice is lower than usual to match hers.

Listening to Yaoyorozu sing feels like a secret; something intimate only for his ears. It makes his insides warm pleasantly – like the night of the Eniichi festival, when she had told him that she wasn’t just anybody. That she was his classmate and friend.

“It’s the main chorus from the song I just told you about, Black Swan.” She ducks her head, tucking her bangs behind her ear. “I highly recommend it. It’s built around the quote by Martha Graham: A dancer dies twice – once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful.”

“I see.” He reaches up and rolls the headphone hanging in front of him between his fingertips. His eyes meet hers and an idea strikes him.

“Here,” he says, picking up the headphone. “We can listen together.”

Yaoyorozu blinks and then her eyes widen as the red on her cheeks deepens. “Todoroki-san,” she gasps.

Shouto tilts his head to the side. He’s seen people share their headphones with one another before, and although he knows he isn’t the best at picking up on social cues, he doesn’t think he is overstepping on this one.

“You like them don’t you?” he presses, holding the headphone out towards her. “I’ll only listen if you listen with me.”

He watches Yaoyorozu’s expression flicker. He can see the mental gears in her head turning. Finally, she swallows and meets his eyes. “Are – are you sure?”

Shouto nods. Hesitantly, Yaoyorozu reaches out and her fingers brush against his as she takes the headphone. The brief contact shoots through him like an electric shock, and he swallows over a dry mouth.

Yaoyorozu stares at him for a moment longer before sticking the headphone in her ear. Her eyes move back up to his, and she gives Shouto a small nod.

He looks back down at his phone and hits play. The sound of perhaps a piano and violins start. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

The chorus that she had sung earlier begins and dancers appear on the screen.

Shouto can see why Yaoyorozu likes the song. There is a certain classical element to it that fits her.

He finds his attention drawn back to her as it plays. Her eyes are half closed and she sways slightly with the beat. Suddenly he knows that this will be his favorite song no matter what it sounds like.

Shouto glances away as the song ends and she lifts her head.

“How’d you like it?” Yaoyorozu asks. Her expression is intent as she studies him.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah.” His lips twitch up at the side and he feels amusement curl in his chest. “Just good.”

Yaoyorozu puffs out her cheeks. “You’re teasing me now. Did you even listen to the meaning?”

No.

He had not.

Yaoyorozu sighs. “It's about passion for doing something you love and second chances. It's – I feel like I can relate a lot to the message,” she says, sitting back. Her hand reaches up to take out the headphone and Shouto realizes he doesn't want this – whatever this is – to end like this.

He leans forward. "Want to listen to it again?" he asks quickly.

Yaoyorozu pauses and quirks an eyebrow. "Sorry?”

Shouto swallows. His hand tightens around his phone. "Let's listen to the whole album. I'll pay attention this time."

Yaoyorozu's expression flickers.

"And then I can tell you which song I like," he adds.

She has dark upturned eyes that appear almost black in the fading light.

Yaoyorozu hesitates for a moment then gives him a small smile and nods. "Okay."

XXXXXX

The sky is a dark canvas, brushed with blinking and flickering lights that dance like fireflies across the heavens.

The train car is silent now. All the businessmen have shuffled off at various stops and now it's just the two of them.

U.A. is at the end of the line.

Shouto glances up at the blinking sign above the automatic doors. Four stops to go.

A weight suddenly settles against his right side.

Shouto tenses at the abrupt contact and looks over sharply.

Yaoyorozu’s body is slumped against his. Her breathing is quiet, eyes closed in the telltale signs of sleep.

Shouto’s heart skips a beat and then several more as he watches her. He's never been this close to a woman before. And he wonders if the way his heart feels like it is going to burst out of his chest is normal or part of the quirk he may be under.

He swallows as his eyes trace up her nose to the dark lashes that rest like dark smudges against her slightly sun-kissed cheeks. There are dark circles under her eyes that he hadn’t noticed until now. He lets his body relax under her.

She must have overworked herself again.

A strange sense of pride wells up inside his chest that he can’t quite place.

She always gives her best to everything she does. It makes her an excellent hero, and it’s one of the things he admires most about her.

The train rocks along the tracks, and Yaoyorozu’s head tilts slightly to the side to lie upon his shoulder. They are sitting so close now their faces nearly touch.

Shouto draws in a sharp breath. It was the wrong move.

She smells like jasmine and roses.

Shouto tears his gaze away to look determinedly down at the floor of the train, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He’s feeling uncomfortably hot.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, activating his quirk.

Did she do this on purpose? He knows, even as he thinks it, that she didn't.

She’s just tired. And the train and music lulled her to sleep. Besides, he was the one who suggested they listen to the songs together.

He takes a deep, steadying breath. When he feels in control, he glances back at Yaoyorozu.

She is entirely relaxed, her head resting on his shoulder. Light breaths ghost against his lips.

His hand curls into a tight fist on his thigh.

He should wake her. Yaoyorozu will no doubt be mortified if she realizes she has fallen asleep on him.

Shouto swallows.

But...She wouldn’t have fallen asleep if she didn’t need it, right?

He has no experience in these types of situations and tries to think what Midoriya would do – as a hero, or as a friend.

Midoriya would wake her, or self-combust in embarrassment.

Shouto’s stomach sinks at his two options. Obviously, he can’t self-combust, that would be dangerous and would hurt her. So, he’ll have to wake her.

His eyes trace over her features again and his stomach flips at the way the luminescent lights play off her dark hair.

He can’t deny a part of him likes the fact that she feels comfortable enough around him to fall asleep. It makes him feel...he’s not sure. Different.

Shouto can feel the warmth of her arm through his white shirt, and he finds himself leaning into her.

He’ll wake her.

It is the right thing to do.

But – perhaps it would be okay if they stay like this for a little while longer.

xxxxxx

Thanks for reading!

#todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #shouto todoroki #Yaoyorozu Momo #My writing #My Story #todomomo drabble

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