#of all this country’s pretty-bad patriotic songs it’s one of the best

[caesarsaladinn]

and also why are all the online renditions of Battle Hymn of the Republic sung like church music or folk dirges? it’s a marching song! it’s meant to be loud and shitty! get drunk and belt it, cowards!

#of all this country’s pretty-bad patriotic songs it’s one of the best #the Union Dixie might be better for sheer meme value but it’s too topical to be truly great

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #10:

Living With War

(Rest assured Fair Reader, we'll get to this photo and its relationship with the album in question in good time; for now let's just wonder if Neil, on the right, is wearing blush or if he's blushing because he's just been seen associating with Stephen the Hutt, on the left. Again, we'll get there in good time! Now, on with the post...)

The teenagers I teach, who are all pretty awesome, arrive knowing almost nothing about modern events. Wait, they say, there was a war in Iraq? Are we talking about, like, recently? Were we alive? Wow. Dude, what'd you say? There were like two wars in Iraq? Were we in them? Iraq's a country, right? Who won?

Well, kids, no one won. But hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives. And millions are still suffering from the effects of the conflicts. And Iraq is, like totally, a country.

The teens come alive when you start to get into the details; I'm proud to stay pretty damn nonpartisan in the classroom but there's no way to teach these events without telling students the truth: the Bush administration lied. And I don't mean once. They lied over and over again for years. WMDs; links between Iraq and 9/11; government directed torture; death counts. And our country went along for the ride; we were so shell shocked by 9/11 that we, like totally, like literally, believed Iraq=Muslim + Saddam=Bad Guy therefore, War=Now.

Well not all of us bought it. I'm a very proud American and I did my patriotic duty by angrily protesting the Second Gulf War. I'm guessing many of you did too.

And when Neil Young woke up after years of shaggy dog Greendale story telling and Prairie Wind flatulence to rage against his adopted country's moral corruption, I felt relieved, proud and in sync with his anger.

Indeed, I'd argue that Living With War is a pretty cool chapter in Young's story. Not only was he right when he called us all out for being lazy and dumb, he also rehired his kick in the ass band from Eldorado and recorded everything with Ohio-level pace and boldness, writing and recording the album in less than two weeks and getting it out and into our ears within a month.

And just listen to the opening track! Young finds his riff on Old Black, nods at his six-cups-of-coffee drummer and then sounds immediately and deeply alive, shaking himself and all of us out of our Bush beer garden of complacency.

Cool, huh? It's almost 20 years later and George W. Bush's brand of homespun, ignorant evil appears quaint in comparison to the nonstop barrage of totalitarian terror being spouted on the campaign trail in and in the courts (seriously, if frozen embryos are now human beings why aren't refugees being welcomed with open arms and being offered all the jobs Americans like you and me rely on but refuse to do ourselves?) but I still feel pumped up when I listen to this song.

So why isn't the record a bigger deal? Why doesn't it shoulder its way into our thinking not just about Young but about that whole embarrassing era in our history? I'm afraid there are a few pretty good reasons why.

For one thing a lot of the writing sucks. In the earnest and almost soulful Roger and Out Young rhymes no words in the first verse, then decides to go big and connect "way" with "today" in the second verse, then shrugs and sets "today" alongside "yesterday" after that. This is coming from the guy who once wrote "roads stretch out like healthy veins, and wild gift horses strain the reigns." Come on Neil, confer with a dictionary.

One spot where the lyrics come alive in the upsetting and enjoyably silly The Restless Consumer. Check this frantic song out:

You can hear in the song that Young assembled a 100 person choir for this record and spent one 12 hour day teaching them to sing along with his best crazy grandpa voice on lines like:

Don't need no TV ad Telling me how sick I am Don't need to know how many people are like me Don't need no dizziness Don't need no nausea Don't need no side effects like diarrhea or sexual death

Roger that, Neil. When I see you live in April with the Horse (yes, I've got tickets, gods be praised) I promise I won't scream out from my cheap seats in the back about any of these topics you mention. But I will scream. Lots.

Another shortcoming on the record is Neil's unwillingness, or inability at that moment, to destroy and thereby uplift the songs with his own lead guitar.

Stroll through his wacky eclectic career and there are nearly no constants: one moment he's making violent computerized pop, the next he's impersonating Willie Nelson. By 2006 he had 40 years of proudly obstinate inconsistency under his belt. But Neil, at least when making band-oriented music, had - almost - always used a rhythm guitar player.

First there was Richie Furray and He Who Shall Not Be Named because he sucks.

(But that guitarist does appear, as we noted at the top, in today's opening photo from the Living with War era. You see, that's not Pizza the Hut standing with Neil in the image; it's You Know Who, or maybe we should call him You No Poo; Neil had a tour planned with Crosby, Satan and Nash long before he wrote and rushed out Living With War; then he foisted the record on them for their summer tour together; Stills was unimpressed by it all and complained a lot, probably because he'd voted for Bush in the first place and knew that the only people who still bought his records were dumb asses who'd followed his lead in the voting booth.)

Then along came Danny, Nils, Ben, and Poncho (and even Steve Cropper and the kids in Pearl Jam and Promise of the Reeled in Flounder). Occasionally, such as on Comes a Time and Old Ways, Neil used not one rhythm guitarist, but instead about 16 of them. He idolizes Hendrix but rarely tries to be him.

Living With War is, like the killer Eldorado, the snoozy Greendale and the confounding Le Noise that would soon follow, one of Neil's rare solo guitar attack moments. And, on this occasion anyway, it's a mistake.

Neil heard the album's basic tracks after his rushed and passionate recording session (he'd later release those first takes on their own as Living With War - In the Beginning) and knew there simply wasn't quite enough music to go around. He'd been too busy teaching the songs to the drummer, bass player and himself to remember to shred.

He could have summoned Poncho and given the whole project another week. He should have. Instead, he got all Bernard Shakey on us and brought in not just the 100 piece choir, who must have spent their 12 hour session alternatively inspired, snickering and baffled, but also a trumpeter. And we're not talking about Miles Davis and Don Cherry here.

Instead, it sounds like Neil stopped by the local high school, plucked the third chair from the marching band, then played slow enough to let him try, and fail, to keep up. Take a listen.

Even the choir and drunk trumpet weren't enough to entirely salvage such songs. You'll hear in the video above that Neil also brings back Re-ac-tor era space warfare sound effects and mixes in sound-clips of the Dubbya himself. This whole song and, for that matter, the whole album, is silly, inspired, simplistic, drunk and awesome all at once.

Sound like all the ingredients we need for another Shakey Sunday.

#Youtube #neil young #george w bush #iraq war #9/11 #living with war #shakey sundays #stephen stills sucks

[valerie]

TWITL - week 6 - rainy start then sunshine

MONDAY - 5 February Has the storm passed? It sounds a bit wet out there but the rain has stopped and the wind has died down. The weekend weather was pretty wild! It'll be interesting to see what damage it wreaked or if it's all been cleaned up already. I saw a picture of a tree that fell in front of the library. No body was hurt, thank goodness. https://flic.kr/p/2pwBb6o One full week of work. We can get through it. We will get through it. I already know I have a lot of emails to go through when I get to work. I need to write down my tasks during these times so that I don't forget to do the things I must do. It's easy to get caught up in the stuff that must be done but some prioritizing does need to happen sometimes. As is the case here. Percy Jackson and the Olympians - I neglected to talk about the season ender of this FANTASTIC show. It had better come back because I WANT MORE! The show is excellent and okay, it's about kids but all the Greek mythology weaving through it just makes me so happy. I really loved the books (obviously read them as an adult) and the show has done such a fantastic job of bringing the characters and the stories to life. They must give us more. How can they not bring us more? Also, go watch the show. So well done. Argylle - I knew it was a good idea to NOT read any reviews before seeing the movie. I read something about the "twist" and then skimmed through a few comments. The article was not positive and the comments didn't really sound like they were from people who actually watched the movie. I'm telling you, the movie was a fun ride. Was it ridiculous? Of course! Was if funny? So much so. Does it deserve the bad box office return and the negative reviews? Nope, not at all. I'd love to see it again. I really enjoyed it. TUESDAY - 6 February Toby Keith died. I was shocked when I read about it, then a little sad. When I really started listening to country music (mid/late 90s), he was one of the big stars and he had some fun songs in those early days. I enjoyed his music for a long time and then didn't listen much to him in later years. I prefer his fun songs and don't really care for the ones that lean on the patriotic side in an angry fashion. I get that people probably paint him a certain way in this day and age but I still think of him fondly for the songs of his that I do still love. When he sang those drinking songs or songs with stories, he had a way of delivering the words in memorable fashion. If people only want to remember the "bad" stuff about him, that's their prerogative. He was singer and songwriter and I bet he's got a song in his catalog that you'd like if you give it a chance... Thomas Beaudoin won for Best Male Actor at the Central Coast International Film Festival for his role in a short film called Secrets Not Buried. Why do I know such a thing? Oh yes, because I'm claiming Thomas as my latest book boyfriend, which means I'm following his work. And no, I'm not going to pretend that his good looks weren't the first thing to catch my attention. You all know me better than that, right? (Well, you should, my lovelies.) Gosh, I have a type when it comes to my book boyfriends, eh? Anyhoo, I saw that Thomas had won Best Actor and I added the post to my IG story (as one does when trying to show the love and perhaps catch the attention of the book boyfriend) because I was happy for him. I remembered to check on the people who looked at that particular IG story and lo, guess who cast a glance? You knew before I said anything, didn't you? https://flic.kr/p/2pxUBuH Sometimes it happens and yes, I screenshot it... WEDNESDAY - 7 February I finished that audiobook yesterday evening and I'm so relieved! I really did not like the female narrator's voice when doing dialogue and even the male one started to irritate me towards the end. The story itself was all right but I think I should stick to reading romance novels as opposed to listening to them. THURSDAY - 8 February Was it forward of me to DM Chris to ask if he's going to the All Blacks v Fiji match? When I wrote out my message, I was a little nervous but figured I just had to ask because I know he's a big rugby fan. And lo, HE REPLIED!!! I saw that I had a notification on Twitter (yeah, I still call it that and yeah, I still have it) and when I opened the app, I saw that I had a DM. I opened it and there was a message from Chris. I think I let out a little squeak, as one does, and then calmed myself and read his message. He just found out about the match and he had gone to the one in Chicago so he was pretty sure he was going to go with his rugby friends to San Diego. He said that he'll keep me updated. https://flic.kr/p/2pxUEbj This particular screenshot makes me smile... I'm trying to be cool and whatevs about this but nope, can't do it. He read my message, must still find me to be not too crazy, and wrote back to tell me that he was probably going and he'd keep me updated. Fangirl me is super super excited!!! I hope we really do get to meet up. It'll rock! https://flic.kr/p/2pxURib my Sunday look Super Bowl LVIII - Well, that didn't go the way I had hoped. The result is exactly why I don't like going into such a game thinking, "Oh, my team is going to win!" Maybe it's a way of keeping myself from being too heartbroken but it didn't really work. I was VERY DISAPPOINTED by the 49ers loss and I really don't want to hear excuses or blame or anything else. It's done. The Niners and the Chiefs played a good game and maybe I would have enjoyed it more if I didn't care so much. It sucks to lose but what a season they had... https://flic.kr/p/2pxoNi5 Leica Sofort 2 and the first shot Leica Sofort 2 - Got my new camera! It arrived on Friday and the film arrived on Saturday. It's super cute! I'm digging it. I experimented with the printing, starting with photos taken by the camera as well as shots taken by my phone. I can only pair the camera with one device so I paired it with my iPhone. Of course, the photos taken by the iPhone printed very nicely. The photos taken by the camera print nicely enough but the digital versions aren't as nice, of course. Still, it's pretty cool! Shots from the Leica Sofort 2: https://flic.kr/p/2pxN2in the first shot I printed from my Leica Sofort 2 https://flic.kr/p/2pxTw63 the view at the ranch https://flic.kr/p/2pxSBAw the view at dusk https://flic.kr/p/2pxSBDT hopeful before the Super Bowl I'm so glad we had Monday off from work. Now four days of work and another three day weekend ahead. Here we go! Read the full article

#LeicaSofort2 #techfreakchick #thomasbeaudoin

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #564

Top Ten Christmas Films 2022

Merry Christmas! 

So I’ve been doing this blog for ten years. You’d be forgiven for not knowing that, as I spectacularly failed to do an anniversary list on the actual tenth birthday of my first blog. But I digress; over a decade, it’s inevitable that tastes will change and lists that I made earlier in my tenure won’t ring quite as true anymore. I’ve addressed this before; I do a “Top Moments of the MCU” list about once every four years, and I’ve revisited a couple of older lists in various ways. I try to avoid doing too many outright “same list but different” – however, today is, in fact, the same list but different.

I last did a Top Ten Christmas Films on the very first Christmas I had this blog, back in 2012. You can check that list out here. Back then, I was very perfunctory, not really writing much and hardly ever attempting analyses of my choices. So I think it’s only fitting to return to the scene of the festive crime, like the Ghost of Christmas Present dragging Scrooge around poor Bob Cratchit’s house, and take another look at the best Christmas films of all time.

I’m tempted to go deep here into “what is a Christmas film?” but I think I’ve kinda covered this before. In general terms, then, I feel very strongly that a film set at Christmas isn’t necessarily a Christmas film. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Jurassic World, Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, Prometheus, even my beloved Iron Man 3 are not really Christmas films I would say. No, the inherent Christmassiness has to be woven throughout the film. Themes of family, reconciliation, redemption, joy, togetherness… also music, music’s a biggie. They do have to be set at Christmas, too; hence I’ve excluded Christmas-feeling films such as the Paddingtons.

So that’s the arbitrary rules done and dusted. I guess there’s nothing more to do that wish everyone a very Merry Christmas, and start unwrapping these bad boys. God bless us, everyone!

Die Hard (1988): a film so Christmassy it’s got Christmas music woven into the score. A man journeys across the country to reunite with his estranged family, but practical problems beset him; as he overcomes his issues, he realises his own failings and love for his wife just in time to save Christmas with the help of some conveniently-placed gift tape. Plus it’s hilarious, tense, exciting, well-acted, and just overall excellent from beginning to end. Not just the best Christmas film; the best film set at Christmas, and very easily one of the best films ever, full stop.

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992): a surprisingly faithful Dickens adaptation, considering 70% of the cast are made of felt. But it’s supremely heartwarming, a delightful, optimistic, uplifting mini masterpiece. As well as the great execution of the material and the awesome Muppet japery, it deserves a special mention for Michael Caine’s note-perfect Scrooge, a naturalistic centre amidst the madness.

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993): is it a Christmas film or a Halloween film? I say it can be both! Terrific production design and gorgeous animation help sell the story of a disillusioned man yearning for something new before realising what he had was pretty great to begin with. Cute and sweet but also nasty and grimy, it threads this needle perfectly. Great soundtrack, too.

White Christmas (1954): speaking of great soundtracks… whilst fact-lovers will let you know the title song originated in the film Holiday Inn, White Christmas features fewer scenes of blackface, so it gets the nod. The war veteran plot may smack of American patriotism, and the romantic entanglements underserve the women somewhat (basically, Bing can do no wrong in this film), but overall the sentimental storyline meshes with the excellent songs and gorgeous dances.

Scrooged (1988): our second Christmas Carol adaptation, this one giving the old tale a modern twist (well, modern for 35 years ago…). Bill Murray is perfectly cast as the cynical, capitalist TV mogul who’d staple antlers to a mouse’s head to get ratings; his descent into mania followed by his teary-eyed redemption is beautiful to behold. Arguably the best ghosts in any adaptation, too. Niagara Falls!

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946): from Niagara Falls to Bedford Falls. Wonderful Life is a Christmas movie that probably spends most of its time away from Christmas, charting the life of George Bailey (James Stewart, effortlessly loveable). It’s also a film that understands the melancholy aspects of the holiday, as it’s pretty dark, Bailey’s life a series of disappointments until he’s reminded not only of his own worth but how much what he has means to him. It’s a bit like Die Hard, really. But very few films can possibly have an ending as uplifting and tear-inducing as this one.

Gremlins (1984): from Bedford Falls to Kingston Falls. Gremlins succeeds as a Christmas film by really undermining most of what a Christmas film should be about. It’s not really a heartwarming treatise on togetherness; it’s actually a gory, hilarious, nasty little horror film. But the Christmassiness shines through because of the way it’s punctured, from the ironic use of Holiday standards to Phoebe Cates’ unforgettable monologue.

Scrooge (1951): outside of modern twists and talking rats, this is the best version of A Christmas Carol out there, and once again it hinges on its central casting. Alastair Sim gives Scrooge a Shakespearean streak of cruelty, his hangdog face showing glimmers of malevolent joy in his every mean turn of phrase. And then when he sees the light, he’s standing on his head and accidentally flashing his housekeeper. Plus it’s beautifully shot in black and white, almost noirish at times, and gets bonus points for including the creepy Ignorance and Want kids.

Miracle on 34th Street (1947 & 1994): I couldn’t choose! I just couldn’t! Which is better? Neither! They both rock! Showcasing the general niceness of Santa by sticking him in a department store and making him charm the pants of the capitalists and careerists is one thing. turning it into an engaging courtroom drama is genius. The original, I feel, is the sharper, funnier, slightly edgier film; but the remake has arguably (by a nose) the better Santa, Mara Wilson, and the great “In God we trust” ending. So it’s a tie.

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989): a dose of genuine silliness to round things out as we enjoy the best Griswald movie. Loads of daft jokes about Christmas traditions and preparations, dreadful family members, and exploding cats, plus a great dose of Mele Kalikimaka. But beneath the blocked-up shitters there’s some genuine heart and warmth to this film, making it more than just an excuse for some OTT Chevy Chase antics. And in the UK, at least, it remains more-or-less family friendly.

I’m not gonna be sniffy and explain why certain films didn’t make the cut. Although there are a couple – Trading Places, for example – that I think I need to re-watch to decide if they’re quite Christmassy enough, or just “set at Christmas”.

Anyway, I think that’s enough for this year. Merry Christmas one and all, peace and goodwill to all men, women, and non-binary people. Best wishes for 2023. Now let’s all open our presents and rewatch The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special.

#top ten #movies #christmas movies #die hard #scrooge #muppets #christmas #december 25th

[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Unreleased Ranking (5)

This is a re-ranking of Lana's unreleased songs, after making a first a few years ago. This is all my opinion, which I don't mind anyone disagreeing with but don't come for me for it - honestly, I like every song, despite any criticism, and this ranking is very vague. It's based on objective and subjective opinion.

This is the fifth of five posts, with my favourites.

Wild One

Lana is nostalgic without the sadness, remembering how she’d shake it for Mike but is embracing her freedom. She lets country influence seep through her voice and her uncomplicated instrumentals – it would be an unsurprising addition to Chemtrails

True Love On The Side

Though simple in structure and lyrics, it’s more Lana’s grittier rock sound and her incredible vocals that make this one of my favourite unreleased tracks. Lana lets herself go and goes full pop rock chick for this track, whilst keeping in with her ‘other woman’ trope that makes the song still familiar despite its departure from her usual music.

Driving In Cars With Boys

Dripping in nostalgia, Driving In Cars With Boys makes you yearn for the kind of 1950s/1960s era Lana often laments over. Lana is a bad girl just having fun, doing what she pleases and giving in to her vices, and it’s this kind of song that is relatable in its escapism and desire to just do what you please. There are two versions, one with a more monotone chorus that matches the rest of the verses and another where Lana sings in a higher register, letting her cheerful, breezy love for driving with the boys shine through in her vocals.

Angels Forever Forever Angels

Perfect for Paradise, Angels Forever Forever Angels has that slow, rhythmic summer drive feel, a relaxed version of Ride which also has associations with the bikers that feature in both the music video for Ride and the lyrics to this unreleased song. It’s dreamy but grounded by Lana’s patriotic love for the grungier side of Americana.

Hollywood

It has a breathy chorus you could sing to, the feeling of a summer evening and blue skies. The ever building and dropping beat that keeps the song ticking as restlessly as Lana’s hopes and dreams gets me feeling pumped as much as her emphasised, dragged out “Hollywood” in the chorus makes me soothed. Lana is wishing for fame and fortune but it has the feel of an eighties American teen movie, iconic and deserving of a cult following.

Yes To Heaven

Hazy like a daydream, Yes To Heaven is made of sunlight and soft grass, closer to nature than the spotlights of Lana’s often alcohol-soaked, money drenched stages. Lana’s voice is tentative until it shimmers in the chorus, and though it was made for Ultraviolence, it wouldn’t be out of place on the shining beacon of hope that is Lana’s positive turn, Lust For Life.

Life Is Beautiful

This gorgeous song was intended for Age of Adaline’s trailer, and it’s been years of waiting for the full song to be released. Now we have it, it’s certainly worth the wait. Dreamy and soft, this track is a timeless classic that could underwhelm from it’s gentle feel but works perfectly well as a pure little love song.

On Our Way

Stripped back and with a country twang, Lana doesn’t add fuss and frills to this song, instead just crooning precisely how she feels in the kind of song that keeps you daydreaming for hours. Not even the smattering of her favourite imagery (Chevrolets and K-Mart lip gloss) overshadows the love that’s at the forefront of this track.

Never Let Me Go

Like On Our Way, Never Let Me Go has the country twang and stripped back feel that makes this a more subdued song, her lyrics shining even more. Lana’s additional strings layer this song well and her comparisons to the dangerous couple that is Sid and Nancy gives this track an edge, keeping it from being too frothy.

French Restaurant

A piano ballad, Lana strips back the hurt of Without You and dual dedication of Video Games to sing about how fame matters so little to her while she’s torn between two men. Her voice is beautiful and it does well to be so minimal in its production, her emotion driving the song clearly enough. Especially pretty are the backing vocals of the choruses, echoes of her thoughts that hammer home her broken feelings.

Trash Magic

Lana’s delicate and soft vocals help tie into the Lolita-esque character Lana often plays in her music. It has a similar feel to 1949, dripping with her delicious imagery, and wouldn’t be out of place on AKA Lizzy Grant. Lana is the fragile ‘daddy’s girl’ again in this song, and the sharp yet soothing music in the background sets the tone for a quiet trailer park night.

Us Against The World

Though fairly chilled out, Lana still hooks listeners with her characterisation of waitress by day/stripper by night, a dangerous girl tempting an equally dangerous guy. Lana drips sexiness in this song and though it’s not as exciting as some of her other unreleased pop hits, it is perfect for the Del Rey character.

Your Girl

Much like Caught You Boy, Lana is desperate for a man she can’t have but is instead a complete wreck. Lana just repeats over and over how she wishes she was this man’s girl, practically pleading after describing how she needs to be led off the stage from falling apart. Yet it’s still sultry, still passionate, and is topped off by her honey-like vocal demonstration in the bridge and the chorus.

Roses

Lana is the other woman with a twist – instead of moping about her man (Other Woman, Sad Girl) she is taking action. Fighting against him, not letting him go without making some noise and getting rid of his girlfriend, Lana storms into the song with a vengeful wrath and calls him out for his poor attempts at apologies. When this song first came out, I adored it, since it was the exact kind of strong-girl track I wanted from her with a great hook and all the right Lana-isms. Now, I still get that thrill listening to this song and its kick-ass fuck-you to the man she loves.

Playing Dangerous

The churning drums, the spoken verses and the coy vocals set this song apart from her others. It falls shorter during the choruses, the verses being the best parts of the track, but the way Lana interacts with the listener ultimately and is a more direct character of ‘innocent’ seductress who might actually be downright bad (arson is hinted).

Serene Queen

Lana is unbothered and unruffled, as collected as she is in Put Your Lips Together but this time with a definite Ultraviolence/Honeymoon feel. Lana is unshaken by the blazing guns, instead completely calm with her dangerous lover, questioning why he even has a problem in the first place. As it picks up in the chorus, almost smirking, it becomes one of her finer unreleased songs yet.

Ave Maria

This is just an instrumental but there’s something so beautifully haunting about it. It wouldn’t be out of place in a Hollywood movie, with shades of the Lolita soundtrack instantly coming to mind when it first starts. It even works well without singing, and I hope we get a full version soon.

Puppy Love

From the perspective of a Marilyn Monroe figure, Lana plays the teenage girl wishing for a traditional romance with her lover. It’s ever-so-adorable, harking back to the sweeter parts of the fifties, but there’s a sense of sadness throughout it. Under the surface of the puppy love is the reality that the references to Monroe do not forget her sadness, loneliness and ultimately her overdose. The tone shifts to such an unhappiness in the bridge, directly calling back to Monroe’s phone call shortly before she overdosed, twisting the song to something more melancholic.

Cherry Blossom

The lullaby that grew into the marvellous, completed Cherry Blossom is a lovely tribute to someone small and beloved. Though Lana doesn’t have children yet, the care in her voice and each of her heart-warming compliments and promises is still thoroughly enjoyable – and comforting.

Colour Blue

In a song that reminds me of the love/hate relationship of Norman Fucking Rockwell, Lana takes her time to question why she loves the men that she does and, ultimately, grow from it, beginning to want something different. It’s raw and personal, with a gushing chorus that is complimented fully by the guitar. This song is blue all over, from Lana's opening harmonisation to her abrupt, unhappy ending.

Paradise

This song is, of course, pure paradise. A summery beat, a flippant Lana simply enjoying her lover no matter how long she’ll have him for and her coos of “sick!” and “that’s dope!” make this into a tasty distraction fit for the sunny months. Her casualness in this track is fresh as well as the dance-happy music that she doesn’t often create in her albums.

Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

Lana is the waitress with a crush in this bop of a track, trying to convince a guy to get with her instead of that “bitch”. Convincing she is, as she uses all of her charm, wit and insistence that there’s no promises behind her intentions to have a good time with him. It’s just a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of her music, not too heavy and perfectly polished. It’s self-assured as much as it is breezy, and calm as it is it’s still a riot to listen to.

Caught You Boy

A dream-esque confession of desire, obsession and pure, crazy love, Lana isn’t outright insane in this track (Kinda Outta Luck, Jealous Girl, Serial Killer) but she hints towards being slightly too attached to her beau and describing herself as an army of one. The song is sweet and flowery but there’s a sadness and danger to it that keeps it from being too sugary.

Fine China

Some of Lana’s best lyrics are in Fine China as she sings of her fractured relationship, unhappy wedding and many beautiful yet easily broken things. It’s a slow, unfussy ballad but her strong voice and stunning lyrics make it so much more than a throwaway unreleased song.

Thunder

What feels like a coming-of-age slow dance song but is ultimately a choir-backed break-up track. Lana’s lyrics are clever and her voice is the perfect complement to The Last Shadow Puppets, this combined work a sure hit that deserves some kind of release and recognition. Lana is frustrated but tender as she leads the song with plenty of presence.

Prom Song Gone Wrong

The fifties feel, the teenage romance, the warm and gorgeous vocals that switch from dreamily longing to a cheeky talk-rap suggest this is a song tied tightly to Puppy Love, except with a more hopeful feel to it. Lana is ready to leave and she wants her lover to come with her, and even if it’s a youthful mistake there’s no mistaking that the love she – and her man – feels is real. It’s a pretty dedication to the kind of head-spinning romance of younger years, though it has an edge to it. Lana’s choruses are desperate, her pleading genuine and the strange way the music builds and collapses right at the end give the illusion all isn’t the sunshine and rainbows Lana sings of – and hopes for.

#lana del rey #lana del rey songs #lana del rey unreleased #cherry-interlude

[reidingandwriting]

5 Times Tony Wasn’t There for You, and 1 Time He Was

Word Count: ~3200 words

Ship: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Stark!Daughter (Platonic), Lots of IronFam ft. the Parkers 

Warnings: Probably some swearing, not completely movie compliant but follows the general timeline ❤ Kinda unrelated gif (kind of related if you pay attention) but look how CUTE Morgan and Tony are

✨ Masterlist ✨

-One-

As the young daughter of Tony Stark, you were used to your dad being busy with work. Meetings across the country, dinners with royal dignitaries across the globe, or simply just endless hours spent locked in his office. All of this before he went missing for three months and came back as Iron Man. 

It was your sixth birthday and Tony had planned the perfect birthday party for you, with Pepper’s and Happy’s help of course. You had recently developed an intense fascination with marine life, so what better way for you and your family to celebrate your birthday then spending the day at the aquarium? He even splurged a little extra to convince the owners of the aquarium for you to have a sleepover under the sea. But the night before your party, Tony told you he had to leave for a little while. “It’s okay, Daddy.” You said, with the most innocent smile on your face. “Can we have some of my birthday cake tonight?” And how could Tony say no to that? After birthday cake and being tucked into bed, Tony flew off in his suit for one of the first of many times. 

“Pepper, Pepper, Pepper!” You ran down the hall of your Malibu mansion, Happy trailing behind you. You launched yourself at Pepper, your little arms wrapping around her legs. “Is it time to see the fish?” Pepper scooped you into her arms and you settled on her hip, your face nuzzled into the crook of her neck. 

“It’s almost time! Are all the bags packed?” Pepper looked up at Happy, who nodded. 

“And in the car, ready whenever we leave.” Pepper smiled gratefully at Happy. 

“Wait! Forgot something, down please.” Pepper set you down and you ran off towards your room. 

“Thank you again, Happy. You know you don’t have to stay with us-“

“I want to.” Happy interjected. “What can I say? The kid’s grown on me.” The sound of your footsteps grew louder as you entered the living room a minute later, your stuffed bear and wad of black fabric in your arms.

“What’s that, Y/N?” Pepper tilted her head as you held out the material. 

“You know Teddy, and this is Daddy’s favorite shirt. He’s not here, so Teddy can wear his shirt. Almost like he is there!” Pepper bit her lip and plastered on a smile she hoped looked half as happy as yours. 

“Just like he’s there, huh? Come on, let’s go to the car. I bet the fish are so excited to see you.” 

-Two-

After Tony had taken down Obadiah, who you totally never trusted by the way, and had the press conference where he announced he was Iron Man, things started to go back to normal. Well, as normal as anything involving Tony Stark can be. You spent time with your dad in the garage as he worked on suit upgrades, and DUM-E seemed extra chipper (and klutzy) while you were around. Your Uncle Rhodey visited more frequently and everything was good. Life was good, until recently. 

For the last few weeks, your dad had been acting different. “Your dad’s under a lot of stress right now, Y/N. He’s okay.” Pepper would repeat this to you every time you asked. Natalie’s addition to Stark Industries provided a distraction for you, and you found yourself growing close to the red head. 

Your dad, Pepper, Happy, and Natalie were in Monaco and you were left at home  with Rhodey. You stood in the dark hall of your house, your Uncle Rhodey seated on the couch in the living room. The television lit up the room, and you slowly tip-toed to the couch. The blanket you held in your hand dragged against the floor as you climbed onto the couch. 

“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing up so late?” Rhodey wrapped his arm around you and covered your body with your blanket.

“Lonely. Miss everyone.” You nestled into Rhodey’s side and your eyes glued to the television. “Boring movie, Uncle Rhodey.” Rhodey laughed and looked at you. 

“And what do you want to watch, little miss? Let me guess, Tangled?” You nodded quickly and sent a dimpled smile up at your uncle. 

“Please?” Rhodey groaned dramatically before he started the movie, and you giggled happily. And if Rhodey sang the songs with you, that was no one’s business but yours. 

-Three-

You had hoped after the events in New York, with the team called the Avengers and their battle with Loki, things would go back to normal. Boy, were you wrong. You were on a plane with Pepper when you saw the footage of your dad flying into a wormhole, and it wasn’t until you were back in Malibu before you saw him again. Tears were shed and an endless amount of hugs were given when you were reunited. 

The changes in your dad’s behavior were subtle in the beginning. Loud noises would startle him much easier than before, and he spent less time sleeping and double the amount of time in the garage working on his suits. When he did sleep, his dreams were plagued with nightmares. On those nights, he’d check on you multiple times before morning came. “Have to make sure my best girl’s okay.” Tony would say on the rare chance you were awake before he went back to the garage to work for hours until sunrise, where he’d repeat the cycle again. Work with Stark Industries, work at home, and maybe get a few hours of sleep. 

Your dad’s PTSD got worse with each day that passed; throw in Happy being hospitalized, your Uncle Rhodey’s Iron Patriot makeover, and Pepper’s meeting with Aldrich Killian, Tony was a mess. And the threat of the Mandarin was the breaking point. “Come and find me. 10880 Malibu Point, 90265.” When Pepper heard the news, she told you to pack a bag, Christmas was going to take place as far from Malibu as possible. You stood in your bedroom, JARVIS playing Christmas music as you finished packing when you heard your dad, Pepper, and another woman yelling. You walked to the door and outstretched your hand, your fingertips brushing the handle when the first explosion went off. You went flying into your bedroom wall, and your world went dark. 

When you woke up again, you were hit with the news. The only home you had known was reduced to rubble, your dad was missing, presumed to be dead by the media, and your life as you knew it was over. You and Pepper had joined the unknown woman, known as Maya, to get the hell out of there. 

On Christmas Eve, you sat on your hotel bed, soft Christmas music playing in the room. You held your dad’s helmet in your lap, it being the closest it could be to having your dad with you. Pepper took a seat beside you, and you kept your gaze down, eyes glued to the helmet rested in your lap. 

“How are you holding up?” Pepper’s voice was quiet, hesitant. She was especially cautious with you for the last few days, afraid to further upset you. You couldn’t even count how many times you burst into tears out of nowhere, but you always had Pepper to lean on. Like now, as you leaned your head on her shoulder. 

“I just want my dad home.” Your voice cracked as the familiar sting in your eyes returned. You blinked rapidly as you tried not to cry again today. You picked up the helmet and hugged it to your chest. “I want to be on the couch, watching Home Alone, drinking hot chocolate. I want to be home. I miss him, Pepper.” Pepper’s shoulders shook as she tried not to cry, and she hugged you close. 

‘Me too, kid. I miss him too.’ 

-Four-

After everything died down with the Mandarin, your dad returned to the Stark Tower you now called home. It took a while to settle in, even longer with the Avengers frequenting the space, but you had your family- your dad, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey. Even JARVIS in his own special way was an important part of your life and family. But history has a way of repeating itself. Right as you developed a new routine and sense of normalcy, shit hits the fan. This time it was Ultron. 

~~~

You were seated beside Maria as you and the team were on the balcony after one of your dad’s parties. You watched in amusement as Clint, your father, Rhodey, and Steve attempted to lift Mjolnir to no avail. The group talked and laughed, until the battle with Ultron started. 

“Hill! Get Y/N out of here, now!” Tony yelled. 

“Dad, no!” You started to go after your dad, and Maria grabbed your arm. 

“Y/N. You can’t fight with them. I need to get you out of here, please don’t make me carry you.” You paused before nodding, and you followed Maria to safety. Hours later, you were on the phone with your dad. 

“I’m sorry, kid. I only have a minute until I have to go off the grid.” Your eyes burned as you blinked away tears. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“You promise? All in one piece?” You asked

“Maybe two.” You choked out a tearful laugh at your dad’s answer and took a deep breath. 

“I love you, Dad. Please, be safe.”

“I promise.”

~~~

You woke up with a gasp and clutched at your chest as you caught your breath. You flipped your phone over, three in the morning. 

“Miss Stark?” FRIDAY, your dad’s new AI, asked. Before the first fight with Ultron, JARVIS had been pretty much destroyed. Then FRIDAY was born. “Your heart rate has greatly increased and your oxygen levels have slightly decreased. Shall I call Ms. Potts for medical attention?”

“No, no, no. No, please. I’m okay, just... a bad dream is all. Nothing new.” You grabbed your cup of water that sat on the nightstand and took a large gulp, and tried to calm yourself down. You also turned on your lamp, the small bulb casting a warm glow around you. 

“Do you frequently have nightmares, Miss Stark?” 

“Y/N, please. Sometimes. Usually my dad is here and he helps me calm down. He’d sit with me; sometimes we’d watch the TV for a while, or he’d read to me until I fell asleep again.“ You pulled your blanket closer to you, a wave of sadness hitting you. “I wish he was here.”

“I’m positive Mr. Stark will be home as soon as he can, Y/N.” A pause. “What did Mr. Stark read to you when you couldn’t sleep?”

“We’ve been reading the Percy Jackson books lately. We just finished the second book the other night.” You laid back in bed and let your eyes close, and you willed yourself to fall back asleep. 

“‘The Friday before winter break, my mom-’” FRIDAY started to speak and your eyes snapped open. 

“What are you doing, Fri?”

“Reading book three, The Titan’s Curse.” FRIDAY answered as if it was the obvious answer. 

“But... why?” 

“You said your father would read to you whenever you had nightmares. Mr. Stark can’t be here, so I thought I could start reading the book to you. Hopefully he won’t be too upset that you started without him.” You smiled at how genuine and caring FRIDAY sounded and closed your eyes again. 

“That can be our little secret. Sorry for interrupting, FRIDAY. You can keep reading if you’d like.” 

“Certainly. ‘The Friday before winter break, my mom packed me an overnight bag and a few deadly weapons and took me to a new boarding school. We picked up my friends Annabeth and Thalia on the way.’” FRIDAY continued to read and you shortly fell asleep, a smile on your face. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

-Five-

You knew things would change after the battle with Ultron in Sokovia. You had just greatly underestimated how different things would be. One change was the new additions to the team- Vision and Wanda. While you got along well with them, not even your friendships could blind you to the tensions between your unconventional family. The already seldom group meals became even more rare the silence would be unsettling. If it wasn’t silent, there was arguing that you couldn’t escape. 

Another change was the lack of Pepper in Tony’s life and subsequently your life. Pepper always tried to be there for you, even called you often and invited you to her office for lunch, but it wasn’t the same at home without her. Your dad was suffering from the loss more than he was letting on, and you had to be there for him as well. 

~~~

“I’m a grown man, Y/N. I can take care of myself.” Tony said as he looked at you, and you set a plate and a glass of water down on his workshop table. 

“I know you can, but will you?” Tony scowled at you, but you could see the gratitude in his eyes.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, kid.” You smiled and hugged your dad tight. 

“Probably fall apart.” You said with a playful smile. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” You let go of Tony and walked towards the exit. “Finish up soon, or I’ll have FRIDAY shut the power off.” 

~~~

Things got worse when the Sokovia Accords were brought into play. Your family was torn apart by the decision whether or not to sign, with your dad being one of the few to sign and Cap being one of the few against the Accords. Throw in Clint’s retirement and the team you knew was no more. Tony knew this, and he made a trip to Queens for recruitment. 

~~~

“Where are you going?” You sat up from your spot on the couch. 

“Queens.” Tony walked over and took a seat beside you. “I’ve had FRIDAY tracking crime statistics, pair that with trending searches after these crimes, and I think we may have found someone in Queens that could be helpful.” Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket and projected a video for you. You tilted your head as you watched the person (definitely my age, you thought) in their makeshift suit swinging around the city, and your jaw dropped when you saw them catch a car with their bare hands. 

“And how exactly did you find out who they are? Under the suit?” 

“Classified.” Tony tapped the tip of your nose, and you swatted his hand away with a playful glare. 

“Hope you have a way to convince his guardians to speak with him, let alone go with you to fight against the rogues.” You laid back down and cuddled your blanket.

“Have we met? I always have a plan.” Tony stood up. “You’ll be okay on your own?”

“Have we met?” You copied him and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“Brat.”

“Old man.”

“I’m running away!” Tony called out as he walked to the elevator. 

“See you in a few hours.” You closed your eyes, and let sleep take over. 

~

“I wish I could go with you. We haven’t been to Germany in so long.” You sat on a workshop bench as your dad finished tweaking the web shooters for Spider-Man’s new suit. 

“As soon as everything is calm again, we’ll have a vacation wherever you want. Just us, I promise. It has been too long since we’ve spent time together without work getting in the way.” You could hear the guilt in your dad’s voice and you smiled sympathetically at him. 

“I know you’ll make it right, Dad. You always do.”

~~~

Before you knew it, your dad and the remaining team members were off to Germany for the fight against the rogues. Happy stayed behind, which you said was completely unnecessary, per your dad’s request. Just in case, he had said. He’ll only be a call away. And it’s a good thing he did. 

———

“Happy?” You groaned and held your phone to your ear. “I think I need the hospital.” That was nearly an hour ago. Now, you laid in a stretcher, being wheeled to the operating room, as Happy waited in the lobby the emergency room. Your stomach had been aching all day and it got worse as the day progressed. 

“Sounds like appendicitis. We’ll need to remove her appendix as soon as possible.” The rest of the conversation faded into the background, as did the preparation for your surgery. 

“Alright, Miss Stark.” The surgeon spoke as she administered the anesthesia. “Count down from five for me. Can you do that?”

“Five...” Your eyes closed. “Four... three...” And you slipped into darkness again. 

(In the waiting room...)

“Guess it’s a good thing you stayed behind.” Happy held his phone against his ear, Pepper speaking on the other end of the line. “How is she?”

“Surgery should be finishing up soon. I’ll call you again when I’ve seen her. I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you when she’s home.” Happy glanced at the door, anxious to see your surgeon again. 

“The minute she’s ready for visitors, I’ll be there.” Muffled voices in the background. “Keep me posted, please? I have to go.”

“I will. Bye, Pepper.” The two exchanged goodbyes just in time for the surgeon to walk over. 

“Mr. Hogan? Miss Stark is waking up. I’ll walk you to her room.”

~

“Hey, kid.” Happy spoke quietly and took a seat in the chair beside your bed. 

“Happy...” You smiled and struggled to keep your eyes half open. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” Happy could see the gears in your brain working after the question. 

“Dunno. Just happy you’re here.” You giggled tiredly. “Happy that Happy’s here. Happy, happy, happy.” Your voice trailed to a whisper and you were quiet for a minute. “Happy?”

“Yes, Y/N?” You turned to face Happy, and his eyes met yours. 

“Thank you. For always being here for me.” 

“Always will be, Y/N/N.“ Happy watched as your eyes closed, the smile still on your face. 

“Like a family. You’re my family, Hap. And I love you.” It was Happy’s turn to smile, and he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you too, kid.” He hoped you heard him before you fell asleep. 

-One Time He Was There-

“Peter!” You laughed as the brunette led (dragged) you through the hall of his apartment building, and you looked at the doors you passed on the way to his. “Slow down, I’m going to trip!”

“I’ll catch you.” Peter replied but slowed down. “Sorry, I’m just excited.”

“For pizza at your aunt’s?” You stopped walking and Peter nodded. The slight twitch of Peter’s eye didn’t go unnoticed- his nervous tic. What can you say? Natasha trained you well. 

Happy had dropped you off at the Parker’s apartment last night, giving you an excuse about some business trip him, Pepper, and your dad had planned over the weekend. You insisted you could stay home alone, but when Tony mentioned staying with Peter, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend time with your best friend. You two had spent all of the day together, Peter showing you around the city Spider-Man style. Holding onto Peter while he swung across the city was your favorite way to travel now. 

After the battle in Germany, the team had all gone separate ways. The loss was hard on both you and your father, and the addition of Peter to your life (and Pepper rejoining) made everything easier. You quickly became friends with the teen, grateful to have someone your age to spend time with. And he was ridiculously attractive, not that you’d say it out loud. After all the time you two had talked and spent together, you grew close to Peter and him to you. And for him right now, that was a curse. 

“Are you hiding something from me, Peter?” You asked. 

“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t hide anything from you. I’m a horrible liar, you know that. I start talking a lot, talking really fast-“ 

“Like you’re doing right now?” Peter scoffed at your question. 

“You have no faith in me. Come on, we don’t want to be late.” Peter continued walking and led you to his apartment door. 

“It’s okay if we’re late, I doubt May ate all of our dinner by herself.” You walked into the apartment with Peter, confused why the lights were off. You turned the lights on and...

“Surprise!” You jumped from the cheers and grinned at the sight. Your dad, Pepper, Happy, and May stood in the living room wearing party hats. A homemade “Happy Birthday” banner hung in the living room, and there were containers of your favorite takeout and a birthday cake on the coffee table. 

“Oh, my God.” You looked around the room. “Guys.” You whispered and your eyes watered as you turned to Peter. “This is why we spent the day in the city?”

“Had to keep you outside so they could get everything set up.” You hugged Peter tight, and Peter gladly returned the hug. “It was all your dad’s idea. He wanted to surprise you for your birthday.” Peter spoke softly as he rubbed your back. You pulled away after a moment and walked to your dad. 

“You did all this for me?” Your bottom lip trembled as you blinked back tears. 

“Of course I did, Y/N. You’re my daughter, my heart. You deserve the best, this is the least I could do.” Your dad opened his arms and you flung yourself into his arms. “I don’t have the best track record of being here when you need me. But I promise I’ll do better. Be the dad you deserve.” You let out a muffled sob, your face buried in your dad’s shirt. 

“Please, just more days like today.” You whispered and Tony nodded, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. You stepped away after a minute and wiped your eyes. “Thank you all so much. I’ll cry all over the rest of you later.” Laughter sounded through the room as you stood by your dad’s side. 

“We have plenty of time, Y/N. Now, let’s eat dinner. I nearly had to lock Tony outside to keep him from eating the cake.” Pepper said and walked to the living room, everyone but your dad following. 

“Dad? Come on.” Your dad looked nervous and you started to question him, until Pepper yelled. 

“Anthony Edward Stark, did you-?!”

“Gotta run!” You laughed as Pepper reprimanded Tony, and you sat on the couch with Peter and May. Maybe your family wasn’t conventional, and maybe your dad was busier than most. But when he was there, you were the happiest you could be, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. Even when he stole a slice of your birthday cake before you could. Punk.

Taglist: @daughter-of-stark @agent-barnes40 @spideygirl2003 @ditttiii @missmulti @5aftermidnight ❤ Taglist and requests are open! Hope you guys enjoyed this because I loved it

#peter parker #peter parker is a dork #peter parker x reader #tony stark #proof that tony stark has a heart #Pepper x Tony #tony stark iron man #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #pepper potts #pepperony #mom!pepper #tony stark is a good dad #rhodey #james rhodes #war machine #happy hogan #jarvis #marvel fanfic #marvel au #domestic avengers #avengers family #avengers fanfic #irondad #ironfam #may parker #aunt may

[lilhawkeye3]

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

#ohio discourse #50 states reviews #oregon #midwest #california #texas #New York #massachusetts #deep south #midatlantic #New England #united states #the clone wars #DISCOURSE COMMENCE

[wearebrokenintheend]

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Words: 4735 (I got caught up in this)

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, slow burn, strangers to lovers, age gap, reader is at least 20ish, also fluffy fluff 💕

+ Here’s the song I had on repeat while writing the smut. Just thought it would enhance the experience 💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was my parents’ annual Fourth of July party, where all of our family and close friends were invited to gather at our house for food, alcohol, and fun explosives. They began this tradition when I was small child, and never failed to make it more extravagant than the last. I grew up in such a patriotic household due to the fact that my father was a retired navy officer, and my mom was one of those people who will celebrate anything when she gets the chance. I was always encouraged to praise my country and heritage, especially on National holidays.

Of course, I loved celebrating with my family, and I loved our parties. The only thing that bothered me was how my parents would act during the parties. They’d drink all day and night and leave their worries behind, while I had to clean up and make sure that nothing bad happened to them or anyone else. I know that it’s good for everyone to just cut back and let loose every now and then, but there was a fine line between the letting loose and being a pain to everyone around you.

The thing about this years party was that I was finally allowed to drink, which meant that I too would be in on the fun, at least that’s what I assumed. It was hard to be surrounded by drunk adults having the time of their lives while I was stuck in the background sulking. Of course there were always some kids to hang out with, but I always ended up being left out.

While greeting everyone and joining different conversations, I spotted my Uncle walking into the yard with an extremely attractive man at his side. Immediately, I left the group of a few people to walk over to him. Our eyes locked and my Uncle smiled and held out his arms for a hug.

“Ah, y/n, it’s been too long since I’ve seen my favorite niece!” He greeted, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing playfully like he did when I was a child.

“Hey Uncle Dave,” I replied, smiling in his embrace. “I’ve missed you too.”

As we broke apart, I looked towards the handsome stranger, content with holding myself back from gawking at him. Something about him felt so familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Oh, this is my good friend Pedro.” He looked toward Pedro, “This is my niece, y/n. My brothers daughter.”

Pedro smiled and nodded at me, holding out his hand and shaking mine.

“It’s so nice to meet you, y/n.” He looked back at my uncle, “You never told me how beautiful she was.” He said with a slight laugh.

My uncle playfully narrowed his eyes at him, “Don’t make me kick your ass, Pedro.”

They both shared a laugh before my father spotted his brother, pulling him away and leaving Pedro and I alone.

“So how did you and my uncle meet?” I asked, wanting to know more about him.

“Oh, Dave and I met when we were filming a show of mine. We ended up spending a lot of time together on set and started spending even more time out of work.”

I nodded and smiled, remembering that my uncle was a writer and producer in Hollywood. Suddenly it clicked in my head, I knew this man. He was THE Pedro Pascal. I first met him on screen as Oberyn Martell, whom I had a crush on in the asoiaf book series.

He must’ve noticed my eyes growing slightly wider and recognized the moment of realization.

“I see that you know who I am now, correct?” He stated, breaking me away from my thoughts.

I looked up at him, feeling a deep blush burn across my face.

“Uh, yeah, you’re Pedro Pascal. I’m uh, I’m a big fan of yours.”

He laughed,

“Well maybe not enough if you couldn’t recognize me right away.”

I let out an awkward laugh and he smiled softly back at me.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’m only teasing. It happens a lot more often than you might think.”

I just nodded and found myself tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ears. Pedro noticed and leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“You’re very beautiful, y/n. Especially when you get all flustered like this.”

He pulled away and looked around to make sure no one was paying much attention to us. Meanwhile, I was taken aback that someone like him would ever like someone like me. I mean, yeah I was pretty, usually on a good day, but I wasn’t anything like the women I knew he’d been around.

Taking a sip of my wine from a plastic cup, I scanned my surroundings. I noticed that my parents and uncle were all preoccupied with the other guests, leaving no room for any unwanted attention. Then I suddenly felt a bit lightheaded, and I stumbled back a few inches. Pedro immediately grabbed my arm to keep me steady, then leaving it there once I locked eyes with him.

“Shit, I don’t know what just happened to me. Maybe I’m more of a lightweight then I thought.” I half-laughed, earning me a smirk from Pedro.

“Don’t worry, you’re still young and you’ve got plenty of time to get used to it.”

After giving him an amused smirk, I took another swing of my drink.

“You’re right, but I’m afraid if I try it all too fast then I might end up in the emergency room, or worse.”

With a sigh, I noticed my cup was finally empty, so I turned myself toward the house to get more. Something deep inside knew that I’d have to have even more alcohol to keep calm around Pedro.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head inside for another drink, or maybe just sit down for a bit to get out of this heat.”

Pedro have me an understanding look, but I saw the slight disappointment in his eyes. I couldn’t believe that this man actually wanted to be around me.

“I mean, you can join me if you want. I just thought you’d want to meet the rest of my family or something.”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a soft snort.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Pedro. You’re the best company I’ve ever had at one of this things.”

He beamed at me and I looked around one last time, hoping everyone else was still preoccupied. I mean, I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea - wait, why did I suddenly care what everyone thought of me? Was I really that afraid? I shrugged my thoughts off and gave Pedro my hand. He grabbed it without missing a beat, and I lead him to the back door.

Once we entered the house, I walked toward the fridge, opening it and grabbing myself a hard iced tea.

“Would you like anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a beer, y/n.”

Hearing him say my name made your insides melt; I had to fight to keep myself on my feet. I found myself falling so hard for a man who had only met me maybe half and hour ago. Rolling my eyes at myself, I grabbed him a beer and walked over to the sofa.

“Here ya go, Pedro.”

I sat myself right next to him, our thighs touching. It made my nerves go all haywire, and I couldn’t control them anymore.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

There was a pause after he spoke, his words lingering like fingertips on my chest. I wanted him to call me endearing names like that for the rest of my life.

Pedro broke my train of thought by clearing his throat, trying to ease the awkward tension in the room. So it wasn’t just me who felt this way. I looked up at him, our eyes meeting once again.

“Pedro, pl-please tell me it’s not just me.”

He stops himself from responding by pursing his lips. He looked as though he had all kinds of internal conflict to suddenly deal with. After a few seconds past, he looked towards his hands. Then he moved to grab mine, taking my by surprise. He brings my hands to his lips and feathers his lips against my skin, leaving soft, slight kisses. As much I was wanted this moment to last a lifetime, I couldn’t help but satisfy my eager self. I decided to pull my hand away and replace them with my own lips, crushing them against his at last. I could feel Pedro’s slight shock at first, and then he quickly turned back to his calm demeanor. Eventually we pulled away from each other to catch ourselves. All I could notice was his bright grin, practically radiating our surroundings.

“Woah.” I muttered, my breathing still slightly heavy.

“Yeah.” He replied, running a hand through his dark hair.

It was at that moment that I knew I wanted this man to fuck me into the morning light, and I wanted him to start as soon as possible. Pedro then gave me a quizzical look, practically begging to know what I was thinking. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and unlocked it, going to my contacts section and starting a new one.

“Put your number in my phone.”

He looked down at my phone and back at me, grabbing it and putting his name and number in.

“Okay, so I’ve got a plan to get you in my room without anyone noticing we’re gone for too long.”

Pedro’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising dramatically. I smiled in response to his unspoken question, blushing once again at him.

“But, only if you want to, of course.”

“And what exactly do we want to do?”

I gulped, my mouth dry as I was suddenly at a loss for words.

“Hm?”

I leaned onto him, my lips hovering over his ear. I bit my lip before confessing my desire to him, for him.

“I want you in me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Pedro was left stunned by my request, but I could see the part of him that wanted me more than anything. He gulped and then let out a long, heavy breath.

“Are you sure this is what you want, y/n?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, what’s the plan?”

“We go outside together, and then separate. I go find my parents and tell them that I don’t feel good and that I’m going to bed. Then when I’m ready, I’ll text you.”

“What do I say if someone asks where I’m going?”

“Just make something up, like you need to go to the bathroom, or you need to lay down. I don’t know.”

He gave me an unsure look, but I raised my fingers to his cheek and he nodded. We both got up from the couch and made our way to the back door. Once we were outside, I spotted my mom and made a beeline for her.

“Hey mom, I-“

“Oh, y/n! I was starting to worry about you. Now that you’re here we can start the fireworks!”

“Yeah, about that, uh...mom, I think I drank a bit too much and now I don’t feel so hot. I think it’s best if I just head in for the night.”

My mother gave me a slightly disappointed look, knowing how much I enjoyed the fireworks.

“Oh, well, I suppose you should. I’d hate for you to miss everything, though.”

“I’ll be fine mom. I’ve got plenty of years left.”

“Goodnight sweetheart. Don’t forget to take something to help you sleep.”

“I will mom. Love you.”

As soon as I was able to, I walked back to the house. I spotted Pedro with my uncle and dad, and all I could think was how he was gonna get away from them. Would they have any idea what we’d be doing? No, I can’t think like that. I need this. I need Pedro.

I reached my bedroom and saw that I had some clothes and cups scattered around. I quickly cleaned everything up and made sure to spray some air freshener around. I undressed and put on my sexiest pair of undies and bra, then redressing. I put out and lit some candles to soothe the tone of my surroundings, hoping that Pedro would like it. Lastly, I found the box of condoms that I kept in the back of my nightstand for whatever. I then noticed that they weren’t open. Of course. I’ve never been able to bring a guy home and actually sleep with him. Well, there’s a first for everything.

As soon as I was ready, I found Pedro’s contact and texted him.

* Hey, I’m ready for you ;)

I waited for a few minutes until he replied.

* Okay baby girl. I’m on my way now ;)

I let out a quiet shriek of excitement at the fact that he called my baby girl. This is finally happening! Suddenly there was a knock on my door.

“Come in.”

Pedro swiftly opened and shut the door before taking a long look at me. He licked his lips as he walked towards me sitting on the end of my bed. I shot up and wrapped my arms around him, the two of us just looking at each other. I broke his gaze and slammed my lips against his, my tongue immediately slipping into his mouth. He growled as he pushed us onto the bed, the feeling of his clothed dick against my leg driving me crazier. Once he started kissing on my neck, I began lifting his shirt up his torso, begging for him. He helped me remove it, giving me a chance to take in his beautiful body.

“I hope I haven’t disappointed you yet.”

“Oh, I can already tell that you won’t.”

We smiled at each other before I removed my own shirt and bra for him. Pedro smiled bigger and leaned back down to run his lips against my breast. His mouth began teasing at my left nipple while he used his hand to play with my right one. I let out my first moan of the night, attracting Pedro’s immediate attention. His head shot up, and I saw the lust in his dark eyes. I nodded to let him know that I truly wanted this, that I needed this. He grinned in response, returning his attention to my breast. Now taking my right nipple into his mouth, he used his hands to roam my sides. Every inch he touched had lit up like a dull burning flame. The heat was rising and spreading all over, but never enough the painfully burn me. It was a heat that I had only ever dreamt of feeling. I realized that it wasn’t the feeling of Pedro touching me that lit my fire; it was Pedro himself that lit my fire. He lit it and made me burn brighter then I could have ever thought possible. It was at this very moment that I began to understand how much this man truly meant to me.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Pedro asked, pulling me out of my thoughts to notice him looked towards me. I hadn’t noticed that he stopped, or that I was breathing heavily and slightly shaking.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

Damn it, I ruined the mood for him! Now he probably thinks I was so bored that I drifted off. Why am I always getting stuck in my thoughts? I mean, the only ever make things worse for me.

“I-you’re fine, Pedro. I promise.”

“Okay y/n, if you say so.”

He reached up from my torso to place a tender kiss on my forehead, then one on my lips. I could taste the beer from his mouth, further intoxicating me. I let out a soft plea for me and Pedro let out another growl, his teeth now grazing my bottom lip as he pulled away from the kiss to focus his mouth on my neck and collarbone. He started at the corner of my mouth and made his way down my neck. His warm, hot breath sending shivers down my spine. Once he had kissed my skin he began sucking and gently biting, making sure to leave just the slightest of marks. He wanted to make sure that only I could notice them tomorrow morning, after he was long gone. The thought alone made my heart melt with pure joy. Pedro had cared about me enough to leave his mark. He wanted me to know that he wanted me. Not just at this very moment, but even after. He wanted to make the best first impression he possibly could. I softly bucked my hips up against his, begging for some kind of friction from him. He let out a short chuckle, looking back at me and caressing my face in his hands.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

My body let out a hum of delight, his words filling my heart and lower abdomen with butterflies.

“Please daddy. I need you now.”

I begged with all of my heart and soul, wanting to let him know just how much I meant what I said. He needed to understand that I was clay in his hands, waiting to be molded and created.

After what seemed like hours of waiting, Pedro left my upper body and pulled off my shorts. He positioned himself to place kisses on my inner thigh, making sure to leave more marks on me. I knew he could see and feel the warmth pooling at my center, he knew how ready I was. Yet he continued to tease me like this. Asshole.

Just as I was about to say something, he looked up into my eyes as he began using his teeth to remove my panties. The sheer sight alone was almost enough to send me off. This is the kind of shit I thought only happened in romance novels or something. Surely no man was ever this willing to go through all this trouble to further turn a woman on. But here he was, giving his all to please little old me. I felt my mouth pull into a genuine smile, my cheeks burning at my complete vulnerability and nakedness before him.

Once he got to my knees, he used his fingers to remove the fabric. I lifted my legs to help, feeling slightly guilty that he was doing all the work. After my clothing was strewn out on floor, Pedro took another longing look at me, doing his best to remember every inch of me in this moment. I could tell that he never wanted to forget this, and I never wanted to either. He then let out a soft breath.

“You’re so beautiful, mi amor.”

He spoke as if he were in a trance, like the sight of my body enough to completely hypnotize him.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

My words snapped Pedro out of his thoughts, his eyes darting to meet mine. He licked his lips and hovered down between my legs. I spread my legs to give him more access. He wasted no time and gingerly places his lips on my folds. The sudden warmth made my shiver, my sex quivering for him. I let out a sigh of relief, but there was still an enormous amount of frustration in my body.

“I need you now, Pedro. Please. Please daddy.”

Pedro chuckled, the sound vibrating against me, tingling my bundle of nerves.

“Anything for you, baby girl.”

He then inserted two digits, spreading them apart to help adjust me for his length. He made sure to swirl his fingers around a bit, and then pump them in and out of me. I could hear my wetness through my groans, further turning me on.

Just as I was beginning to get used to his fingers, he pulled them out and put them in his mouth. The sight of him sucking my juices off of his own fingers was an absolute dream. This man kept on amazing me with his dedication to me. He lifted himself off the bed to remove his jeans and briefs. His cock sprung out of its restraints, almost completely erect already. In a swift movement, he grabbed the condom from the side of the bed and tore it open. All I could do was fixate on him rolling it onto himself. I found myself wanted to watch him pump himself, I wanted to see him finish himself.

“God you’re so fucking hot when you look at me like that, baby. It turns me on so fucking much.”

I smiled a shy grin, my cheeks flushing once again. Pedro bent down to give me a hungry kiss, his tongue now exploring my mouth. He pulled away and positioned himself to enter me. He pulled my body towards the end of the bed, my legs leaning of the end. His grip on my thighs tightened, pushing his cock to my entrance. With a rough inhale, he slowly slid into me, making sure I was alright.

“You can tell me if anything hurts, sweetheart. I’m more than willing to take my time.”

I looked up at him, shaking my head.

“No, Pedro, I’m fine. Really. You’re doing perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

He nodded and finally pushed himself all the way into me. He quickly pulled out, my slickness aiding him. Then he began to slide in and out, his tempo growing faster with every thrust. Before I could gather myself together, he started swirling his thumb on my clit. He was sending me further than I ever thought I could go. Without missing a beat, my body reacted to his thrusts and rubbing by releasing itself. I felt myself fucking squirting on him. As soon as he noticed, he let out a deep groan of delight.

“Oh fucking yes, baby. That’s it. Squirt all over daddy.”

I noticed my moans growing louder and louder with each movement he made. I was grabbing at my bedsheets, begging for release. The tension was building up in me faster than I could handle. I also began letting out high pitched moans, reminding myself of a porn star or something. It sounded so unrealistic to me, almost overdramatic. But here I was, putting no effort into these noises, all of them purely natural responses.

“Yes, yes, fuck fuck fuck.”

I muttered, almost forgetting how to speak through this euphoria.

“I’m so fucking close daddy!”

My lower abdomen had a feeling of tight coils being bunched together, tighter and tighter with every breath. I knew that I only had seconds before they would release.

“Yes baby girl, that’s it. Come for daddy.”

Pedro sped up his pace on my clit and thrusted harder, hitting my sweet spot. Within a few more thrusts, I felt it hit me. My climax had began and I was now riding off my own high. My eyes had slammed shut and tears were forming in them. I let out a squeal of absolute pleasure, my body almost convulsing from the amount of pure release. I managed to grab Pedro’s arms and began to squeeze, trying to find some sort of stability through my high. I was practically screaming for him at this point, not knowing what else to do. I’d only ever experienced a few climaxes this intense before, and they had all been a long while ago.

Pedro had begun his climax as soon as my walls tightened around him as I started mine. His cock twitched inside me, growing softer by the second. He let out a bundle of english and spanish curses, his grip on my hips tightening as much as mine on him. As soon as he was finished, he pulled out and removed his condom. He tied the end and tossed in it my trash bin by my nightstand. While he did so, I was still left in a daze, stuck staring up at my ceiling. It felt as though my life had been complete, for I had experienced the greatest high known to man. There was nothing else left that could ever compare to that feeling. I had reached the very top.

“You thinking again, honey?”

Pedro had put on his briefs and jeans, then his shirt. He’d gathered my clothes and placed them beside my on the bed.

“Yeah. Just thinking about nothing.”

He simply nodded and sat on my bed. I lifted myself up to put on my panties and went to my dresser to grab a t-shirt to sleep in. I found my oversized Fleetwood Mac shirt and slid it on, turning around to face Pedro. He took a look at my shirt and grinned.

“You’ve got a taste for men and music. You’re my dream girl.”

We both laughed as I laid myself on my bed. I cover myself with the duvet and reached out to touch Pedro’s lap.

“Are you gonna leave now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, though. You’re much more entertaining than anything outside, my dear.”

He slid himself under my covers, cuddling me in his arms, kissing me. I felt at home; I felt truly complete. A part of me knew that this is what I want for the rest of my life. Pedro was the key to my happiness. I would never be the same without him, and I needed to keep him forever. I internally shook my head at my own self. I’m turning into a fucking sap for this man. I knew that we would never work out, but my heart still ached for him.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb caressing his face. His slight stubble creating a pleasing friction against my skin.

“So what exactly did you see in me?”

He looked almost shocked at my question, completely caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you find me so attractive that you’re currently risking your life to sleep with me?”

He chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his thumb on my face as I did his.

“I just saw something different in you. The way you held yourself, the way you looked me in the eyes as we talked. You were completely sincere in every way, and you have this undeniable charm about you. You’re so intoxicating to me.”

My heart swelled at his words. Was I really like that? I mean, I try my best to be nice to everyone I meet, but I didn’t think I was so full of compassion. I never really thought that I was different in a good way, or that I even stood out to anyone. I felt tears growing in my eyes, slowly sliding down my face. Pedro suddenly looked concerned, worried that he’d said something wrong.

“I’m sorry, was that not what you wanted to hear? I-I mean-“

“No Pedro, it was more than what I could’ve ever expected. No ones ever said anything so kind about me. I don’t think anyone has ever given me much thought before.”

“Well then everyone else is a fucking idiot, sweetheart. You’re everything and then some, and only a fool would miss something as incredible as that.”

We pulled together and kissed once again, our hands wrapped around each other in a longing embrace. I pulled away and smiled at Pedro.

“Now when did you figure out that I had a thing for you? Or for older guys in general?”

I teased him, giving him a toothy grin. He lightly pushed me away while I burst out giggling.

“Sweetheart, I knew you had a thing for older men the minute we met. I saw how you looked at me before you even knew who I was. I saw the thirst in your eyes.”

I blinked at him, slightly embarrassed at my own self for being so easy to read like that.

“Was it really that obvious?”

“Definitely, and you know what?”

“What?”

Pedro paused, reaching towards me to tuck a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. Then he placed a soft kiss on my nose, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

“I totally fucking loved it.”

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#pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #oberyn martell #narcos #kingsmen #oscaar isaac #fluff #smut

[strangeandforlornbooks]

best books with morally ambiguous narrators!

all y’all’s problematic faves and villains! :) also included are third person narrators but in books with morally ambiguous leads/themes 

Sci-fi

Scythe by Neal Shusterman: in a future free from pain, disease, and war, people can live forever. ‘scythes’ are given the power to decide who lives and who dies to preserve the balance. sad and kinda gives of hunger games vibes, if you like that.

Neuromancer by William Gibson: basically invented the cyberpunk genre. strange and removed protagonists. (a team of computer hackers have to face off against an evil AI). you kind of dislike everyone and suddenly you’re crying over them. one of those trippy sci-fi classics.

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut: very beautiful and very very sad (same author as slaughterhouse five). the richest man in america has to face a martian invasion. more about free will and bad people doing good things than a plot that makes any kind of sense.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick: set in an alternate universe where the germans and japanese won world war two. not really like the tv show at all- it’s not an action story, and there’s not really the hope to somehow fix the world that drives a lot of dystopia stories. instead its about how people survive and connect to one another in a hopeless society.

The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow: a supercomputer convinces the leaders of the world to keep the peace for hundreds of years by taking their children hostage and obliterating any city that disobeys. what happens to the hostage protagonists when war seems inevitable? lots of morally fraught decisions and characters slowly losing their identity. (plus a fun lesbian romance)

Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson: a brilliant mathematician and a dedicated marine fight to keep the ultra secret in world war two. fifty years later,  a tech company discovers what remains of their story. one of the most memorable sequences in the book is a japanese soldier slowly becoming disillusioned with his nation and horrified by the war even as he continues to fight.

Blade Runner by Philip K. Dick: another one of those sci-fi classics that’s not at all like the movie. there is a bounty hunter for robots, though, as well as a weird religion that probably is referencing catholicism and a decaying society with a shortage of pets. kind of a trip.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power: girls trapped in a boarding school on an isolated island must face a creeping rot that affects the animals and plants on the island as well as their own bodies. the protagonists will do anything to survive and keep each other safe. very tense (and bonus lesbian romance whoo)

The Fifth Season by N K Jemisin: three women are gifted with the ability to control the earth’s energy in a world where those who can do so are forced into hiding or slavery. some veryyyy dark choices here but lots of strong female characters.

Historical Fiction

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters: two victorian lesbians fall in love as they plot to betray each other in horrific ways. lots of plot twists, plucky thieves, gothic settings, and a great romance.

Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiwicz: a powerful roman soldier in the time of Nero plots to kidnap a young woman after he falls in love with her, only to learn more about the mysterious christian religion she follows. very melodramatic but some terrific prose. 

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: a blind girl in France and a brilliant German boy recruited by the military struggle through the chaos of the second world war. ends with a bang (iykyk.) very sad, reads like poetry.

Boxers by Gene Luen Yang: graphic novel reveals the story of a young boy fighting in the boxer rebellion in early twentieth century china. the sequel, saints, is also excellent. beautifully and sympathetically shows the protagonist’s descent into evil- the reader really understands each step along the way.

Fantasy

Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake: three triplets separated at birth, each with their own magical powers, have to fight to the death to gain the throne. lots of fun honestly

Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo: everyone in these books is highly problematic but you love them all anyway. a ragtag game of criminals plan a heist on a magical fortress. some terrific tragic back stories, repressed feelings, and revenge schemes.

The Dark Tower series by Stephen King: idk how to describe these frankly but if you can put up with King’s appalling writing of female characters they’re pretty interesting. fantasy epic about saving the world/universe, sort of. cowboys and prophecies and overlapping dimensions and drug addicts galore.

The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud: lots of fun! a twelve year old decides to summon a demon for his cute lil revenge scheme. sarcastic demon narrator. lighthearted until s*** gets real suddenly.

Elegy and Swansong by Vale Aida: fantasy epic with machiavellian lesbians and enemies to lovers to enemies to ??? to lovers. charming and exciting and lovely characters.

The False Prince by Jennifer Nielsen: an orphan boy must compete with a few others for the chance to impersonate a dead prince. really dark but very tense and exciting and good twists.

The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu: fantasy epic. heroes overthrow an evil empire and then struggle as the revolution dissolves into warring factions. interesting world building and three dimensional characters, even if they only have a small part.

Circe by Madeline Miller: the story behind the witch who turns men into pigs in the odyssey. madeline miller really said, i just used my classics degree to write a beautiful gay love story and now im going to write a powerful feminist retelling because i can. queen. an amazing and satisfying book that kills me a lil bit because of the two lines referencing the song of achilles.

Heartless by Marissa Meyer: the tragic backstory for the queen of hearts in alice in wonderland. a little predictable but very fun with a compelling protagonist

A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) by George RR Martin: ok I know we all hate GRRM and rightfully so but admittedly these books do have some great characters and great scenes. they deserve better than GRRM though. also he will probably never finish the books anyway....

A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket: not really fantasy but not really anything else either. plucky, intelligent, and kind children fight off evil plots for thirteen books until suddenly you realize the world is not nearly as black and white as you thought. 

Classics

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier: gothic romance!! a new wife is curious about the mysterious death of her predecessor in a creepy old house in the British countryside...good twists and lovely prose.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles: not really morally ambiguous but one awful decision suddenly has awful consequences and certain people are haunted by guilt forever.... really really really beautiful and really really really sad. boys in a boarding school grow up together under the shadow of world war two.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: while imperial russia slowly decays a beautiful young woman begins a destructive affair. a long book. very russian. the ending is incredibly tense and well written.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding: I think you know the plot to this one. the prose is better than you remember and the last scene is always exciting.

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie: one by one, the guests on an island are slowly picked off. one of Christie’s darkest mysteries- no happy ending here! very tense and great twists.

Contemporary

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: inspired the whole dark academia aesthetic. college students get a little too into ancient greece and it does not end very well. lovely prose but I found the characters unlikable.

Honorable Mentions

The Dublin Saga by Edward Rutherford: has literally a billion protagonists, but some of them are morally ambiguous ig? follows a few families stories’ from the 400s ad to irish independence in the 20s. beautifully captures the weight and movement of irish history.

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer: how morally ambiguous can you be if you’re, like, eleven? a lot if you’re a criminal genius who wants to kidnap a fairy for your evil-ish plan apparently!

Redemption by Leon Uris: literally my favorite novel ever. the sequel to Trinity but can stand alone. various irish families struggle through the horrors of world war one. the hero isn’t really morally ambiguous, but the main theme of the novel is extremely bad people suddenly questioning their choices and eventually redeeming themselves. sweeping themes of love, screwed up families, redemption, and patriotism.

The Lymond Chronicles and House of Niccolo by Dorothy Dunnett: heroes redeem themselves/try to get rich/try to save their country in early renaissance Europe. if I actually knew what happened in these books I'm sure it would be morally ambiguous but its too confusing for me. in each book you spend at least a third convinced the protagonist is evil, though. lots of exciting sword fights, tragic romances, plot twists, and kicking english butt.

Bonus: Protagonist is less morally ambiguous and more very screwed up and sad all the time

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt: you know this one bc its quoted in all those quote compilations. basically the story of how one horrible event traumatizes a young man and how he develops a connection to a painting. really really really good.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: hard to describe but strange... not an action novel or a dystopia really but sort of along those lines. very hopeless.

#book recs #morally ambiguous protagonists #dark academia #book recommendations #mine

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #430

“when the girl in the corner is everyone’s woman, she could kill you with a wink of her eye”

What kind of dog do you find most ugly? What a mean question. ;-; I don't think they're ugly, but I probably find chihuahuas to be the least visually appealing. Do you like wood floors or carpet better? Wood. Do you think the USA bullies other countries? Quite frankly, yes. Are you currently in love right now? No. Favorite fast food joint? Sonic. What would you do if your ex contacted you? THE ex, have a panic attack. Cry. Be wordlessly ecstatic. Be scared and confused. Do you still have feelings for your ex? Two, yes, but one is unrealistic considering I have no idea who he is anymore. It's been way too long for me to possibly, accurately like him. Ever tasted a flavored condom? No. Do you know CPR? No. How much do you care about your best friend? I'd die for her. Do you watch Dr. Phil? No. What age would you like to have a child? I don't want kids ever. Are your parents wealthy? Mom, absolutely not. Dad seems to be financially stable, but not wealthy or anything. Pick one state you’d love to live in? Alaska. How many pets do you want? And of what? Man, I want a LOT. I know I want more ball python morphs, a plains hognose, a woma python, numerous tarantulas, a fat-tailed gecko, a boa, orchid mantises, a sphynx, a tegu would be super cool... I'd love to have like an empire of pets one day, aha, but only so long as I could maintain them all and adequately provide for them. Have you ever asked someone out? Yes. When do you want to get married? I mean, I don't have a set age in mind. I want to get married when I'm ready. Can you play a musical instrument? I played the flute for yeeeaaaars in middle and high school, but I remember almost nothing by now. What if you stopped orgasming for the rest of your life? Idc, honestly. Does money make you happy? Money probably makes me happier than it should, but I'm not like madly in love with it or anything. Happens when you're poor your whole life. Your favorite breakfast food? Ugh, cinnamon rolls are a godsend. When was the last time you went to a funeral? I actually don't think I've ever been to one... only wakes. I really, really wish I could have gone to Jason's mom's, though... There was just no fucking way that I was going to risk upsetting Jason on THAT day of all days by popping up. Have you ever stolen someone’s boyfriend/girlfriend? Well, we never actually dated, but you could say that... Tell me the date of your first kiss. I don't know the exact date, but it was March 2012. Are your legs long or short? Normal, I guess? How many phobias do you have? Man, a lot. Is there a bookshelf in your room? No. Do you use the Facebook chat often? Barely at all. I only really use it to chat with Girt on the rare occasion we talk. Who got you hooked on the addiction you're addicted to (If you have one)? I discovered Mark on my own; I needed help in an Amnesia: The Dark Descent custom story, so I found his playthrough and watched it. Got a few laughs, subscribed. It was Jason who introduced me to Amnesia, though, so I can indirectly thank him, I guess? haha Are you currently worried about your parents finding out about something? No. Have you ever lived with a friend? Yeah, for a couple months. Have you ever only liked someone because you found out they liked you? No. Ever been on a real diet, or did you just stop eating? I've tried multiple diets. Have you ever known a white supremacist? I know multiple. Welcome to the South. Do you like the smell of a barbecue? Yesss. It's funny because I hate the food itself. Have you ever gone out in public in your pajamas? Yeah. It's not rare, if I'm being honest. How many times have you been to the ER? Too many times because of being suicidal. How many people are you currently texting? None. Anything exciting coming up? My nephew's birthday is in a few days! Would you rather get money or gift cards for your birthday? Money, so I can use it for anything. Do you have Instagram? I have three, ha ha. One for my basic photography, another for my morbid photos, and I went through a very short phase of having an Instagram for my pets. It still exists, but I don't really use it. Have you ever spoken to a detective before? No. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Do ladders scare you? Yes. Hot dogs or hamburgers? Cheeseburgers may possibly be my favorite food. Do you have any tattoos on your arms? I do. Have you ever owned or known someone who owned a black cat? I've owned plenty of black cats. What album is the last song you listened to from? It's from Disguise. What’s the last funny movie you watched? Probably Elf. Can you remember your parents’ birthdays? Mom's, yes. I only remember the month of my dad's. If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you pick? I think I want to get my tribute to Teddy next. How do you feel about band tattoos? Hey, go for it. I see nothing wrong with it. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? Probably snakebites. Lip piercings in general are hot lmao. Are you any good at applying make up? Noooo, my hands are so shaky. How old were the last 3 people you kissed? Sara's 23; idr the exact ages of Girt and Tyler. I think Tyler was a year younger than me, and Girt is at the bare minimum three years older than me. If you found out you got someone pregnant, what would you do? Well, I'm a cisgender female, so... Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? Very frequently. Do you like your cell phone? I mean it's fine, but I'd like a new one. Is rap your favorite genre of music? No, it's actually my least favorite. Have you ever thrown up on anybody? Oh god, no. Do people think you’re happy? I think it's safe to say most people who know me know I'm clinically depressed. Or you know... maybe not. Quite a few people have been surprised to learn that about me because I can put on a good facade. What band would you stand in line for 24 hours to see? None, honestly. That's way too long. What was your worst childhood experience? I guess my dad's alcoholism. As a child, I thought it was a normal thing, but I do wonder if my fear of men has anything to do with how volatile drinking had a 50/50 chance of making him. He never hurt anyone, but he was just so mad and hateful towards the world sometimes. You can trade another person’s emotions for your own. Whose do you take? I have no idea. What was/is going to be your first waltz at your wedding? That'll depend on my partner and what song means the most to us/fits us best. "When It's Love" by Van Halen has been a consideration for forever, though. When it’s not summer, what do you miss most about it? I hate summer. I miss nothing about it. Do you consider yourself patriotic? No. What is the one thing that you need to do to die happy? Feel like I accomplished something notable. Do you consider yourself mainstream? No. What’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done? Overdosing on cold medicine. What is life’s greatest mystery? Probably from whence we came. Humanity has fished for a definite answer forever. What was your favourite make-believe game as a kid? Pretending I was a meerkat hiding in a "burrow" that was a blanket fort, ha ha. Do you try your best at everything? Honestly, no. Who is your shoulder to cry on? My mom, without fail. What’s your standard excuse for not doing something? I dunno... it depends on the topic. Name the most beautiful person you know. As far as physical appearance goes, my friend Alon. Have you ever been to jail? No. What is one moment you wish you could have taken a picture of? Sara's face when I surprised her at her house for her birthday. It was absolutely fucking priceless. What place holds the most memories for you? Jason's house. Who was your first date? My puppy dog-love middle school bf Aaron. We went with a group of friends to a skating rink. My first one-on-one date was Jason. What’s the best trip you’ve ever been on? The zoo in 5th grade. It's the one and only time I've seen meerkats. For some weird reason, our zoo moved the meerkats not long after that visit. I THINK they said the environment just wasn't suitable for them, which I never really got... I think they mentioned the cold, but like, you have heating for them, and also, have you ever experienced a desert night? You consider all the other areas that have meerkats in their zoos and it's like... why, man. Bring my meerkats back. ;_; What do you think the earth will look like in 1,000 years? Oh dear God, I do NOT want to visualize that. My gut tells me it'll be a wasteland, probably without humans or most forms of life we have now. We have to get our shit straight, so very badly. I could rant for hours about how horribly and ungratefully we abuse our planet. Who makes you happy to be around? Sara! I feel like I can be my 100% authentic self, and we just vibe really well together. Like every time I've been there and she here, our friendship felt so natural and chill. I really, really need to save up for another trip up there. What secret have you tried to hide but it got out anyway? I kept the Joel situation to myself from pretty much everyone, but it eventually came out in front of Mom and Jason. It was actually the night of the breakup; I don't remember how it was relevant at all to mention, but I did in some form. Mom wisely never asked about it, and Jason obviously didn't. I was a stupid 12-year-old anyway, it's whatever now. Who/what is your everything? I will never. Ever. In five billion millennia. Let anyone be that again. How many people have you turned down when they asked you out? Ummm three? I think that's it. How many exes do you have? If I include everyone who ever had a title of "boyfriend/girlfriend," I have six. Who was your worst relationship with? Tyler. It was just pointless and the result of nothing but loneliness. What’s your ‘label’? (ex. punk, prep) I really, really don't care. Do you swear? How much? Like a sailor. I swore some beforehand, but I got really bad when Jason and I started dating. He swore a lot, and his mother did even more. I was around them as much as possible, so it rubbed off on me. What is the one thing that would make everything in your life fall apart? Losing my family, like being disowned or something like that. Especially when it comes to Mom. I rely on her so heavily, as much as I hate that. :/ What takes your breath away? Nature is very capable of that. Something like seeing big waterfalls in the mountains or something would marvel me. Are you patient? No, honestly. Are you a good dancer? No. Even when I took dance, I don't think I was great; however, I do think I was pretty skilled at clogging. Who would you call first in a life-threatening situation (not 911)? My mom. Who do you miss? Jason and his family, Megan, Alex, Hannia, Emily, Journee... a lot of people. Do you like snakes? I adore snakes.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''ballroom blitz'' by 3teeth

[frogeye-pierce]

Okay, crazy question but coming from your tags on that music post: what songs and/or types of music do you think the characters would go for if they were exposed to the music of our times?

Oh what a good question!! I’ll try my best to answer but to be honest with you I don't really listen to any current music haha. My answers will probably be limited by that but maybe you can help if you know more current artists!

Hawkeye- I want to say The Smiths so bad but a lot of the songs Hawkeye quotes are show tunes. I could see him being someone who listens to musical theater soundtracks like Rent, Hamilton, (or other popular progressive ones idk). Then on his sad days I could see him getting really emotional over really obscure indie music.

B.J.- Outwardly he’d want everyone to think his music tastes were like your typical dad classic rock or something (standard stuff, nothing too adventurous or outside of the Spotify top five for each artist). BUT deep down he’d have a secret love for artists like Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, Rhianna, Katy Perry, etc. (I don't really know these artists that well but think pop lady singers) 

Margaret- Angry girl punk. Cranberries. Joan Jett. Patti Smith. Songs to listen to when you're kicking a door down, or a man out. I’d like to think she’d use this kind of music to connect with her emotions! I can picture Margaret angry dancing around with her whip singing her heart out to Suzi Quattro or something. 

Potter- All the songs on my playlist that are associated with Potter are pretty much old country songs, Doris Day, and WW1 army songs. He’s a tough one because I don't think he’d like modern country music at all. It’s possible he could like Johnny Cash because he has an old country sound, and the occasional patriotic song thrown in there. (Johnny Cash also has songs with pretty radical ideas and I’d like to think Potter would enjoy that on some level) 

Klinger- Anything loud and/or theatrical!! I have a lot of thoughts on the songs they make Klinger quote on the show but I don't want to get into that for this question hah. I want to think he’d love current powerful women artists like Lady Gaga, Adele, and Lizzo. Maybe he’d also love classic artists like Prince, Queen, and David Bowie you know? Its all about the self-love, individuality, and STYLE. 

Radar- Kidz Bop?? ok just kidding. But all the songs I've found associated with Radar are used to call attention to his youth. He got really into being a DJ in “Your Hit Parade” but I almost think he’d be someone who didn't really *get* music you know? Maybe The Beatles just because they are popular and seemingly wholesome. 

Trapper- You know what? I’m going to say metal. Trapper has a penchant for quoting Frank Sinatra in the show but he’s a little devious and I feel like he’d identify with the rage. 

Charles- I don't think modern times could make Charles ditch his love for classical music. And that’s ok! Even though he likes classical music I like to picture him enjoying live music festivals or something. Probably alone since he doesn't want that kind of reputation. (sometimes people can be pretty snobby about live music so maybe that's where I get this from)

Frank- Trap because he desperately wants to be cool. And he’d say all the bad words while singing along (which is bad in itself). Also, maybe the national anthem but like unironically. Oh and he’d totally own a Nickelback CD.

Father Mulcahy- Most of his songs/quotes in the show are religious ones. Despite this, there are times when he mixes it up like in “Your Hit Parade” when he said he requested “Tico Tico” and Radar played “May God Bless and Keep You” instead. He probably would have the best music taste of them all but everyone would assume he only listened to like hymns or something. I could also see him being really “woke” with his music and liking classic revolution/rebellion songs by artists like Bob Dylan, Marvin Gaye, Pete Seeger, Tracy Chapman, etc. 

Haha hope that sort of answered your question! This is just my initial opinions based on what I know from my obsessive documentation of the music used in M*A*S*H. Feel free to add anyone!

#ill post my playlist and stuff soon so you can see where I'm coming from! #thank you for the ask! #hope this isnt too crazy haha #music #m*a*s*h

[siliquasquama]

Step back from the beach a moment

I don't celebrate on Memorial Day.

Remember, yes -- that is the point.

Commemorate, if you prefer, though that implies some manner of ritual, or some form of public ceremony, held at a slight remove from emotion, as the crowd along a parade route is both at a remove from the parade and part of it.

But to celebrate, to call it a day of relaxation or take it as a day of revelry --

I stopped doing that after I heard a particular song, in a particular movie. The movie itself is The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. Wherein the effort to find a Union soldier's grave, supposedly full of gold, is shown to be rather petty in comparison to the war itself -- which is presented primarily as a tragedy. A useless battle over a little bridge in a bleak corner of the West; a field of shallow graves marked by crude crosses; a stockade for prisoners of war, where weeping men are made to kneel in the dirt and sing a pretty song to drown out the cries from men being tortured --

You would think that the officer who chose the song would pick something less critical of the war, but who knows what he was thinking? As for the director, one might say he chose the song to distill the movie's message. As the final verse goes:

Count all the crosses, and count all the tears -- These are the losses, and sad souvenirs. This devestation once was a nation -- So fall the dice. How high is the price we pay?

After I heard that song my Memorial Days became rather grim.

I am always a little conflicted about the song. I know the political tendency of Americans -- especially white Americans -- is to elide the cause of our civil war, and elude the full implications. The decades after the war would not be the last time that reconciling white Americans meant leaving black Americans out in the cold, open and vulnerable to the people who would never stop trying to subjugate them.

Tempting to say both sides were right, and both sides were wrong, so as to bury the hatchet --

And yet: those who would subjugate black Americans dig the hatchet up whenever they think any government is trying to stop them. Be it in the decades after our civil war, or the decades after the second World War, or the decades after the country chose a black man to lead us towards a gentler peace and greater justice -- they do not forgive any movement towards the true power and freedom of black Americans, except by the acquiscence of the country to their predation, for any move towards freedom is a move away from what they have built, and threatens their coffers. As their coffers were filled by slavery, so they seek to maintain it, in one form or another.

Thus the old song from slaves long ago remains relevant, and its hope is ever present:

Oh Mary, don't you weep, don't you mourn, Oh Mary, don't you weep, don't you mourn. Pharaoh's army got drownded. Oh, Mary, don't you weep.

Did they?


I do not know.

So, when I hear the soldier's lament, I wonder if it was made to elude that question. Perhaps it is that the director, being Italian, at a far remove from this continent and its ways, only saw the war as it was described to him, and thus saw it as the hatchet-burying narrative would have it, and so in his movie made no judgment nor mention of why the war began, nor what cause stood at its center by the end.

Or it could be that the lyricist, being not Ennio Morricone but a white American man, may have written the lyrics to paper over that question, and the compoaser and director alike looked at it without considering it too thoroughly.

Which would assume signores Leone and Morricone would ever dare do sloppy work.

Most likely it is that, if the movie is presented as tragedy, Leone couldn't introduce any of the concepts that have led Americans to call the American Civil War a glorious struggle of freedom. No John Brown's Body nor grapes of wrath for him. In the battle for the bridge, Captain Clinton sees his job as pointless, and that's the story the movie tells. No sense muddling the message by talking about glory. Even if the southwest did have its own battles for freedom, separate from the question of slavery, which could have been shown in the background.

For, if I speak of freedom only in terms of black Americans, I forget the peoples who were also targeted for predation by white Americans, whose resistance to them began long before slavery was planted here, whose story always complicates the simple narrative of White versus Black  --

And as I speak of many peoples to think of them as a whole is complicated, if not impossible, for one tribe does not speak for another nor decide the same as the other. Over the centuries of struggle each tribe had interests separate from and sometimes against their neighbors, such as the people of pale faces could exploit to divide and conquer them.

In the case of the Civil War there were more such tribes who allied with the Confederate forces than with the Union. As it was in the rebellion that established the United States, as it was in the War of 1812, which was, in North America, sought by paleface warhawks as a battle against Indians -- in each such war that threatens the existence of the Federal Government of the United States, the victory and continued survival of that government has been the loss of many tribes and the deaths of their people.

I wish they had not sided with the British Empire, nor with the Confederate slave-holders, yet I understand why they did, for so many of the people we call American heroes were also villainous towards native tribes -- George Washington and Abraham Lincoln alike. The hope of those tribes was the scattering of the forces set against them and in the Revolutionary War, at least, it was not a hopeless effort, nor would it have looked hopeless to them in 1812 nor 1860. For the sake of those people I will not sing patriotic songs, nor wave the flag, nor call the American Revolution nor the American Civil War an untarnished good.

Nor any war. Hard to see blood spilled out on the ground, be it for the best of causes. Blood spilled and bone scattered. Young rascals and old coots alike left as shells, empty as the casings spilled about them, and these days we send mostly the bright young ones to that end. Lao Tzu said a general must mourn their victories.

And there are many of us come from overseas who have seen their loved ones die before them, seen bodies scattered amid the rubble of what they thought would stand, as so many wars these days are civil wars fought in and over civil settings, thereby to flatten those settings -- how could I celebrate any war, in the face of such people? How could I say any war was for a good cause?

And yet -- Pharaoh's army got drownded. Hard to ignore that point.

And for the folks who fought for the life of their people against the federal government, and lost, I wonder if I would dare tell them that war could have no noble cause.

So if I consider Memorial Day as anything, it is a day to mourn victory. Never to forget its price nor what it purchased. Never to speak of that purchase as if it were for the petty game of nations. It is not for for them. It is for the living and the dead. One life given for another, or for many. Perhaps given freely. Perhaps a trade made by someone else far away. Therein lies the tragedy.

For his part, Sergio Leone did not let his movie side with the Union's political cause. If he sided with anyone, it was with the soldiers. The song is called "Story of a Soldier" and it shows the battles through a soldier's eyes. Smoke, cannons, flags in the distance too ruined to read, crosses and tears counted one by one.

The movie's main battle is, as I said, useless. Not from the perspective of whoever gave the orders, but certainly from the perspective of Captain Clinton. His men have to take the Branstone Bridge. If the Confederate forces also want it, then might as well blow the damn thing and leave, and he's desperate to try. But orders are to take the bridge. Maybe as a political favor, maybe to achieve a larger strategic goal. Either way thousands of people will die. That's why Captain Clinton reeks of alcohol. He couldn't handle the job any other way. So when two scruffy and disobedient recruits go and destroy the bridge after all, though it be for a selfish and petty goal, Captain Clinton's dying words are in gratitude. Thousands of people will live. That's what he cares about.

You would think the larger scale of taking that bridge would be more important! Politically, strategically, maybe. But for the life of each man involved -- not so much. They can't see that far. To them the small scale is what they know. And maybe it's more important anyway. The song is called "The Story of a Soldier." Maybe that's what the movie is actually about. And the two bandits are just a way of bringing us to the place where we see what became of him. Which one he is among thousands, that's harder to say. There's an Arch Stanton on one grave marker and 'unknown' on the other. We don't know anything about either man. The lives of both men were on the small scale, not big enough for anyone outside their little worlds to care.

But someone living on the big scale got a lot of people into a big mess, and war means spending a lot of the small scale for the sake of the big scale. Basically shovelling your world into the furnace bit by bit to keep the engine running. Sometimes it means you lose your peach orchard; sometimes it means the army needs your 500-year-old church bell for scrap metal. Hard to tell if it's worth it at the time. Or when you're laying flowers on a grave later.

But when you lay flowers on a grave, are you saying the war was worth it? Or is it an apology for letting a bad situation get out of hand? If you're going to lay your flower on the grave and say the war was worth it you had better include an apology because that's a hell of a lot smaller price to pay than what you're looking at.

Now as for why I post this today and not the 25th -- as I said, I don't celebrate on Memorial Day, and I don't much like the fact that it was moved from the 30th of May to the last monday in May to give people a 3-day weekend. That all feels a bit crass. Seems like it made it easy to forget why this holiday exists. Everyone takes a trip to funtown for the day.

Well, fine. I can't blame people for doing that if they don't remember why the holiday exists. We don't much emphasize the Civil War part of it anyway. Easy enough to forget when you turn a day of memory into a day for parades.

I'm not trying to spoil the day for you when you were looking for a rare chance to relax. Go and have fun.

Just let me stay here with the graves.

#memorial day #civil war #indian wars #sergio leone #the good the bad and the ugly #text

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sammy and Norman. One of them gets drafted? The goodbyes, the worry, maybe never get to see the other again ?

Summary: The battlefield took his arm and a finger, and maybe a little bit of his sanity, but that studio took much more from everyone else. It took their mind, soul and body.

---

Dread had been a creeping stalker from the moment he'd witnessed many of his neighbors being called upon to help in the war efforts. It had followed Sammy around like a wolf in the shadows, making him fret for what he considered an inevitability of sorts. As the man of a household it only made sense that he'd be singled out as another viable soldier despite being the least capable sort to be found in a war.

A man of the arts, with careful and gentle fingers. Cannon fodder at best.

It was a harrowing feeling, because it truly made him fear for what may happen to his dear little sister without him around.

So really, one should be more sympathetic when his turn did come up and his only reaction was to fall to his knees in despair.

He had two days to make preparations. Then he'd be sent out with the rest of the sheep to the slaughter.

-

"You're leaving?!" Joey Drew, as slow as he was to move about without that silly looking cane of his, was much too fast getting to his feet for Sammy's liking. He shot up from his seat like a serpent ready to strike at any moment.

The safety of a desk between a scared mouse and a vile snake was a comfort.

"I don't have a choice in the matter." The blond kept his composure despite knowing quite well what Joey was more than capable of doing if he felt like he'd been crossed. He'd rather be scorned by the devil than be labeled a traitor to his country.

One of these outcomes had a 50% chance of survival. "I've been drafted. In two days I'll be sent off to die in a nonsensical war."

"But your obligations to the studio! We need you here to put a tune to the cartoons!"

"My obligations?! Joey, I've been drafted. I can't kindly decline!" Sammy exclaimed in disbelief. "It's not like picking what you want to eat at lunch. If I try to skirt around this I'll be as good as dead."

"If you go you'll most certainly be dead, and then who's going to compose for the studio?!" Joey's tone had a hint of accusation, as if Sammy wanted this to happen. Might as well blame him for the war while he was at it.

"It's a fucking cartoon, Joey! My life is worth more than your stupid pictures!" His blood was beginning to boil. "I'm leaving and that's that. I'm dropping off the rest of my scores so Jack can finish them up, and I'm conducting the band one last time today. But tomorrow I ain't coming in because I'm helping my sister move out."

"You can't do this to me! How am I supposed to find a composer on such short notice?!" Joey slammed his hands on the table. From the looks of it, he was seething.

"Figure it out. You're the boss aren't you?!" Sammy turned away from the shaking Joey and walked out of his office. He felt strangely lighter on his feet. For once, arguing with his employer didn't make him feel vulnerable.

It was great, despite the circumstances.

-

"I can't believe you're going to war... Sammy that's..." Jack's reaction to the news was a tearful one. It was quite sobering after getting a little giddy from getting under Joey's skin with no real consequences. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Aww... I'll miss you too, you big softy." The blond gave the shorter and pudgier man a pat on the shoulder, allowing him to squeeze his midsection in a tight hug. "You're going to be the man of the house now. Don't let the band trample over you... Those savages can sniff out weakness like a pack of hungry hyenas."

"They're not that bad. You're just easy to rile up, is all." Jack teased, laughing when Sammy gave him a pointed look.

"You know as well as I do that Joey will go after the head of a department if the lackeys slack off." He ignored the few glares he got from said 'lackeys'. "And this bunch gets what it deserves for being a bunch of children on the job."

"Can you leave sooner?!"

"Fuck you too Johnny! I hope your pipe organ falls on you!"

Jack cackled, which got a few other band members to crack up as well. Sammy too found himself smiling. Despite the frustration of leading this group of hellions through a carefully composed song, he'd miss the few occasionally humorous banters and mishaps.

He'd especially miss his good friend and pal. He could only hope the stress wouldn't get to Jack while he was away.

-

People either gave him knowing pitiful looks, complimented his bravery in confronting Joey over his leaving on such short notice, or gave him a vague 'nice working with you, good luck' sort of gesture.

Word had spread through the departments and Sammy felt genuinely impressed at how quickly people went from detesting his presence to sucking up just to save face. No one wanted to be that one guy who was a dick to a soon to be dead patriot.

Susie absolutely smothered him with tearful kisses and tight hugs. She was a mess and, in return, he felt a mess as well.

He didn't want to leave...

"I'll see you off tomorrow." She whispered in his ear during a particularly long hug in the recording booth. "For good luck."

"Thank you doll..." He held on to her for as long as he could. "I'm going to miss this."

"Getting cried on?"

"Just being with you. You make my world so much brighter..."

"Sammy Lawrence you're such a sap, I love you." Susie giggles into his chest.

"Love you too Susiebell."

They'd parted ways, Sammy to collect his belongings and Susie to freshen up in one of the women's bathrooms.

On the way he encountered Norman while passing by the stairs that lead to his booth.

"Who'd have thought..."

"Hm?" He looked up at the projectionist who was staring down from his vantage point. Norman backed off and went for the stairs, meeting him halfway.

"My pa was military. He did things a particular sorta way." Norman explained "Includin' raising his kids in a rather peculiar fashion."

"That would explain your... Eccentricity." Sammy rolled his eyes, which got a laugh out of the older man.

"N'aw. I'm just the weird one... My siblings are pretty normal folk." He chuckled "But I digress. Thing is, my pa would wake us up at 5 in the morning, to do drills with us. 'Case of emergency he always did say... There's a war out there now and yous would think they'd call on me to help."

"Haven't they?" Sammy frowned.

"No." Norman's smile gradually faded. "My eye. It ain't no good, so they decided to call on my little brother instead..."

"....Shit."

"Uh-huh. Was lookin' for ya to tell ya. Your sister can still move in. Nelson's just gonna be the head o' the house instead."

"What about income? Who'll pay the rent and bills?" He felt uneasy about the situation. "They're still too young."

"I'll help with expenses ta best I can, but my little niece and nephew is looking for work. I'd advise your sister do ta same. Times gonna get rough Sammy."

"They are... Thanks Norman." The blond worried his bottom lip. "For helping."

"Well I'll be... Sammy Lawrence thankin' me for being a decent fella. What a day."

"Fuck you."

"You offerin' dinner first?"

"GOD!" He threw up his hands in defeat, which got a good hearty laugh out of the projectionist. "I'll be around your brother's tomorrow then. Good luck with Drew. I got a feeling he'll be extra surly in my absence."

"Can't imagine why. Poor Grant will go nuts if he hires an entire orchestra's worth o' folks to substitute yous."

The music director laughed and went back to what he'd been set to do. It felt nice to hear that he was worth an entire orchestra in someone's eyes.

He hoped Norman wouldn't have a hard time.

-

Saying goodbye to his sister felt like a death march in its own right. He spent the entire day helping her move her belongings to the younger Polks's house. Her two friends were good help, and they even offered him tea and told him to rest whenever he got winded.

The boy, Nelson, warned him that he'd need to train his resistance if he wanted to survive the military drills. The family cat was much more sympathetic, seeming less worried about his physical capacity and more content with having a warm lap to sit on and a set of dexterous fingers to give it some good scratches.

When they'd finished, Sammy had taken his sister out to lunch. They'd run around town just having fun, something he'd rarely been able to do while working at the studio.

Then came the time to go.

To his surprise the train station was packed with a few studio workers.

Susie, Norman, Jack, Wally, Emma, Shawn, Grant and even a few of the band members had come to see him off.

He wasn't ashamed to admit he cried like a baby getting to say goodbye all over again. It felt good to be cared about, even if he wasn't the easiest person to be around of. The only other person that cried just as hard was his poor sister.

"Please come back, I can't lose my grumpy brother." The pleading broke his heart. He couldn't promise he'd come back which was what made this so upsetting.

"I'm not grumpy, just misunderstood." He retorted playfully in between hiccups.

"You're a grumpy butt, grumpiest goof there ever was." A tearful chuckle. His little Abby was flushed and covered in snot and tears. They were both very gross criers.

"Slander! I'm a misunderstood suffering artist." They pulled away and Sammy made sure to take a handkerchief from his pocket and begin trying to clean his sister's face. "Be good to your little friends. I'll try to write to you as much as I can..."

"I will... Please be careful Samuel." She pulled that old doll he'd given her and handed it over to him. Seamus had seen better days, well loved that he was. "Both of you have to come back."

He took her doll and smiled a sincere but rather sad smile.

"I'll do my best Abigail."

His best was not enough, but damn if he wasn't a stubborn son of a bitch. He'd return with her doll, even if he had to drag himself all the way back.

-

Henry gave him a sympathetic look as both descended the lift with Boris looking at them uneasily. They'd pleased Alice enough that they'd gotten the tommy gun from her to complete the last task on her list of demands.

Sammy glanced at the cartoonist with a sad and tired expression. His prosthetic pinkie tapping against his ruined prosthetic arm.

It had already been clunky enough. After a few hits from a Piper, it had become virtually useless other than as a makeshift instrument.

"Are you ready?" Henry asked.

"No... But I never am for this part."

The lift stopped on level 14, and Sammy walked forward. Stamping his feet and kicking up as much ink as possible.

The shrill screech of the Projectionist filled the room as the twisted horror that Norman Polk had become ran forward to evicerate whomever dared intrude upon its domain.

Henry shot it down effortlessly and left Sammy to kneel beside the fallen beast.

The blond sighed sadly, staring at the dying creature with pity, before gently brushing it's back. He could hear Henry moving around, collecting the hearts.

"Shhh... Hush now." He continued to comfort what had once been a friend, feeling the burning gaze of Alice upon him. Judging him. "Sheep, sheep, sheep, It's time for sleep. Rest your head. It's time for bed. In the morning, you may wake. Or in the morning, you'll be dead..."

If it appreciated not being alone as it died, the Projectionist didn't give any indication. But the gentle pawing at his leg made Sammy hopeful that something of Norman remained to thank him before the poor creature went limp for good.

It would reform with no memory of his kindness, but it made his soul feel less heavy with guilt.

"Such a pity." Alice taunted from above. "If only you'd cared and stayed... Maybe less of us would have suffered so greatly."

"I doubt that Susiebell." He replied, uncaring if he would end up enraging her for denying her new identity. "I doubt that..."

The battlefield took his arm and a finger, and maybe a little bit of his sanity, but that studio took much more from everyone else. It took their mind, soul and body.

What was left made Sammy feel hopeless.

#Eps Writes: #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Sammy Lawrence

[apparitionism]

Hark

A merry early Gift Exchange to @kla1991​, whose not-so-secret Santa I am this year. This is the first part of a story set somewhat in-universe: there’s no season 5 (what could that even be?), and only the first ep of season 4—basically, time wound back to right before the Warehouse exploded in Stand, which aired on Oct. 3, so the Christmas during which this story is set is happening less than three months after that momentous occurrence. I’m postulating that Helena became an agent again, and there was no Artie/Father Data business. (Oh, and Steve didn’t die, so no metronome. I refuse to force Helena through witnessing anyone being brought back non-nefariously from the dead.) I’ll do my best to post the concluding part(s) by New Year’s Day—no promises on that, but I’ll finish as soon as apparitionally possible. Anyway, happy holidays to everyone. Continuing to participate with you all in this wondrous exercise in fandom is a blessing in every tradition, and I’m profoundly grateful.

Hark

“Your upstart nation stole ‘God Save the Queen’!” Helena seethed at Myka.

For whom “upstart nation” was really too much. “Nobody owns that melody!” she fumed, reciprocally, at Helena. “You can’t steal something nobody owns, our version is perfectly valid, and anyway I’m pretty sure other countries stole it too. Look it up!”

“I’m not in other countries. You look it up.”

“I’m driving! Since when are you such a fan of the monarchy anyway?”

“Stop questioning my patriotism!”

“I couldn’t care less about your patriotism!”

“You brought up citizenship!”

“Because you don’t have any!” Myka had genuinely thought they would be having an intellectual conversation, one about documentation and—

“I did at birth!” Helena raged, and then she scowl-sang, “God save our gra-cious Queen.”

This gave Myka pause. She reflected that she had actually never heard Helena sing before. She then concluded that she never wanted to hear Helena sing again... because Helena could not sing.

However: “My country ’tis of thee,” Myka sang back, frustrated. It was the only reason she herself would ever have sung, because—

“You can’t sing,” Helena informed her, in the tone of a doctor trying to conceal joy at having to report that the patient would not recover.

“Neither can you,” Myka informed back, aiming for straightforward “snide.”

“And I never want to hear you sing again,” Helena continued.

All Myka could come up with in response to that was an inadequate “Ditto.”

Helena sniffed. “You just wanted the last word.”

Myka pointedly let Helena have that last word. To make her stew in it. In the ensuing silence, she continued to drive. On this last leg home from a retrieval, late on Christmas Eve—their very first Christmas Eve—the air between them was frostier than the South Dakota winter outside the car could ever dream of matching.

She was under no illusion that Helena cared at all about anybody saving the Queen, and she herself, while reasonably patriotic on the American side of things, hadn’t sung her way through that song since her childhood. She knew this dispute was ridiculous, and she suspected Helena knew it too. She suspected also that they both understood they were developing a pattern: A period of calm—a deepening of accord—that would sooner or later, particularly in the adrenalin-ebb aftermath of a dangerous retrieval, dissipate into some minimally motivated squabble, the respective sides of which they entrenched themselves into with such commitment that it seemed there could never be an unentrenching.

*

An early instance: Myka had threatened to storm out of their shared hotel room because Helena had mulishly refused to concede that it had been foolish to open a bottle of mini-bar water for which they would be charged five dollars.

“Go right ahead,” Helena had “suggested,” so Myka did.

In the lobby, she’d run into Pete, who wasn’t storming anywhere, just looking for free snacks. “See?” Myka demanded of him. “Like a normal person.”

“If you were normal, you wouldn’t be out here with me. ’Cause you’ve got a hot girl in a hotel room, and I know things got a little uh-oh chasing that guy today, but you’re both still in one piece.”

“Maybe not for long.”

“You volunteered for this.”

“No I didn’t. Artie said ‘Pete, Myka, Helena, get on a plane for Montgomery, Alabama,’ and so we—”

“You know that isn’t the ‘this’ I meant.”

Myka did. But she hadn’t volunteered for that “this” either. Nothing about her response to Helena was voluntary. Nothing about it had ever been voluntary.

“Fights and all,” Pete added. “After the thing”—he always called the barely averted explosion of the Warehouse “the thing,” and so did Claudia—“you could’ve let her leave. You could’ve made her leave. She would have done anything you said.”

“Not anything,” Myka said, to be contrary.

“Maybe you don’t remember how she’d hardly even sit in a chair without your say-so. Oh, but wait, I think I know somebody who remembers everything, some tall lady with a lot of hair, name rhymes with Opelika... hey, that’s you!”

“Shut up. It wasn’t... that simple.”

“It is now.”

She crossed her arms at him.

He sighed. “Lemme show you: ‘Sorry, baby,’” he said in his “Myka” voice, which was terrible. “Me too, darling,” he then said in his “Helena” voice, which was even worse. As himself, he finished, “It’s like you’ve never been in a relationship.”

In a conversation in which Pete had said several annoyingly true things, that one was the most annoyingly true. But: “It’s like,” she conceded, and he slapped the side of her head, very gently.

“Hot girl hotel room,” he said.

When Myka went back to that hotel room, the hot girl said, “I’m sorry,” as if she’d received the same instructions from Pete. “I was precipitately thirsty.”

“I’m sorry too,” Myka told her. “I was precipitately miserly.”

Myka kissed the hot girl, the hot girl kissed back, and they fumbled their way to fine.

Until the next trivial-yet-entrenched tiff... because apparently, peace was for normal people.

*

Normal people. When Myka and Helena finally made it back to the B&B, Leena, Claudia, and Steve were doing reasonably convincing “normal” impressions: drinking hot chocolate, eating cookies, and playing board games. They seemed to be playing all the board games; Leena was replacing the lid on Monopoly, which she set aside, reaching for the next box in a towering stack. “Chef’s-kiss timing,” Claudia told them. “I just bankrupted these two pathetic poser slumlords, and we’re about to start Sorry. It’s funner with four, so siddown, and you two can be a team.”

“Or not,” Myka said, glancing at Helena, who glanced back and gave a definitely not yet inhale-exhale. “Why isn’t Pete playing?”

“We’re supposed to tell you it’s because he’s doing some last-minute Christmas shopping,” Steve said.

Myka was about to ask, “This late at night?” but Claudia supplied, “Except it’s really that he goofed off today and didn’t finish inventory and thought he’d get away with it but then Artie called and yelled at him.”

“And you left him alone to keep working on it? It’s the night before Christmas, and—”

Claudia waved her hands. “And all through the Warehouse, not a creature was stirring, I swear.”

“Besides,” Leena added, “he’s a grown man.”

“Who always ruins Christmas!” said Myka.

“Always almost ruins Christmas,” Claudia corrected.

Myka demanded, “Is there anything about me that says ‘I like a close call’?”

All eyes turned to Helena, then back to Myka.

*

Of course Helena had been part of the closest of calls, and Myka hadn’t liked it at all: nothing but the outcome. The Warehouse, the saving of it, yes, the thing—but the real outcome had been the aftermath at the B&B.

That outcome was real, but it was also a dream, one that Myka had dreamed more often than she would ever have confessed to pondering in her heart, this dream of being alone with a present Helena, no disastrous endpoint looming. The dream-logic of it: I can touch her? And Myka put a hand to Helena’s elbow. Reached and did that. Helena looked at the hand, the elbow. She looked in Myka’s eyes then and said, “Don’t spare my feelings.”

Feelings? Are you really you in your skin, Myka wanted to ask. Is this your elbow. Instead, because she needed to know, she murmured, “What do you want.”

Helena didn’t say words, but she made a noise that evolution had found fit to preserve from a deep, animal past, a guttural push of sound through the throat-column: it told Myka everything. Told Myka: “Everything.”

No speaking then but by bodies, a language of desperation and culmination. Helena had a mouth that could be met by Myka’s own, clothes that could be removed to reveal a palpable body, with every response of that body real under Myka’s hands. Myka held her eyes closed for much of that night, lest sight confuse her about presence and its proof, lest she fail to attend to what her eyes could never offer: The fleshy heaviness of a tongue in response to her own. The soft give of a thigh interior under her insistent thumb. The steady pressure of a body that pushed back. No empty air, no absence; only presence.

No question marks intruded on their immediate intimacy, their immeasurable, embodied relief. Two days prior, Helena had been a sacrificeable hologram, but all at once she was Myka’s living, breathing, at-last lover. All destined... like meeting at gunpoint.

That night precipitated a fast fall into full couplehood, with seemingly little conscious choice on either of their parts. As inevitable as the gunpoint meetings, the wrenching betrayals, even the miraculous redemption.

But nothing good can possibly be so simple, Myka told herself. Or so inevitable.

“Is that what you believe?” Myka imagined Helena asking this, Socratically. She’d had so many internal conversations with Helena that she found the habit—probably a bad one—difficult to break.

“I’m tired of belief,” Myka told her beautiful, imaginary Socrates. “Sometimes I want to go back to my regular non-Warehouse life, where belief didn’t matter.”

Helena said, still in Myka’s head, still Socratic, “Or did you merely act as if it didn’t matter? Artifacts were born. Religions carried on as they do. Your ignoring belief had no effect on any of it.”

“My not ignoring it has no effect on any of it.”

“So you yourself, regardless of attitude adopted, cannot affect belief.” Socrates paused. Smiled. “Or that which is inevitable.”

Myka did, in such moments, briefly wonder why she needed the real Helena around, if the one in her head was such a reasonable facsimile. A hologram could have done that job just as well.

But the answers, the “here’s why,” came fast and thick, and Myka rejoiced that they could. The real Helena could make Myka laugh an easy laugh, because circumstances were not as they had been with that hologram, when laughter was an impossibility. The real Helena could touch Myka’s neck—not wonderingly, as Myka had known that elbow—but instead quick and hot, in that way that said “we have been intimate recently and will soon again be.” The real Helena could fall asleep and in relaxation display a face so devastating in its symmetry that Myka was inclined to regret not being Michelangelo, so as to recreate it in appropriately tributary marble.

Strange, though, or probably just ridiculous, to feel that your romantic relationship had made more sense when one of you was a hologram.

Myka should have expected Christmas, also a fraught inevitability, to loom as an existential test—yet another existential test—of that relationship.

She should have expected also that when this new existential test was administered, Pete would be the one helping to shove answer sheets and no. 2 pencils into their hands.

*

“Might be a close call or two in Sorry. Sorry!” Claudia cackled. “Anyway, go put your stuff away so we can get our Sorry on. Also our merry. We might even sing.”

“Or not,” Myka said again, and this time she got an eyeroll in response rather than meaningful breathing. An improvement? Hard to tell.

“Nobody’s required to sing anyth—” Leena began, but then she sat up very straight and cocked her head. “Do you hear that sound? Or I guess I mean, do you feel that sound? It’s not singing.”

Helena moved her head too, and not in a way Myka recognized. “I do feel that sound. In fact I believe I know that sound.”

“I do too,” Leena said.

Steve squinted. “Feels like... a weird earthquake? Is it happening all over Univille?”

Claudia said, “This is the kind of thing they blame on us even when it isn’t us. It’s why they look at us weird at the supermarket.”

“I can’t feel anything,” Myka said. “What is it?” She looked first to Helena, who was shaking her head—not at Myka, not with anger, but as if she might be able to find the right shake to rid her ears of the sound, or the feeling, or whatever it was.

“Agitated artifacts,” Leena said, performing a very similar shake. “They... rumble.”

“Agitated artifacts,” Myka repeated. “Pete’s alone at the Warehouse, it’s Christmas, and artifacts are agitated. Okay.”

Naturally, Pete chose that moment to march in, proclaiming, “I hope everybody’s ready to apologize to me.”

Steve asked, “Why should we apologize?” Now he was shaking his head too.

“Because everybody always says I ruin Christmas.”

Helena said, “As I understand the situation, the salient fact is not that they say you ruin Christmas. The salient fact is that you do ruin Christmas.”

“Almost,” Claudia corrected again. She canted her head, righted it. Canted it again.

“But this time I saved it.”

“By agitating artifacts?” Myka said, but of course he would think that. Probably encouraged them to have a party...

“More so by the minute, from the sound of things,” Leena told him.

“What? No! That isn’t what I did!”

“The artifacts are telling a different story,” Helena noted.

Claudia offered, “It’s more that they’re humming it real low. Like some geologic event that worked its way into a Björk track. Or vice versa.”

Myka—very calmly, she believed, under the circumstances—said, “What. Did. You. Touch.”

“Nothing, Mom,” he said, and his tone caused Myka to spare some sympathy for Jane Lattimer. He then said, as if it were some magnanimous confession, “Okay. Fine. I did, but I gloved up.”

“What did you touch after you gloved up?” Leena asked. “And why?”

“It was like it tapped me on the shoulder...” he began.

Still canting her head, Claudia muttered, “Sallah flashback, Sallah flashback...”

“And said ‘hey big guy’...”

Steve said, “This is already a longer story than I feel like it should be.”

“And told me it had to go the Christmas aisle...”

Myka had had enough. “If you don’t spit it out right now, I personally will Heimlich it out of you. Joyfully. WHAT had to go to the Christmas aisle?”

He turned to her and gave a palms-up shrug. “You know I don’t know anything about classical music.”

She reached to the table for the nearest board game, to throw it at him, but Helena preempted that move by saying, “Judging from Myka’s face, now is not the time for non sequiturs.”

She probably couldn’t have done much damage with a travel-size Aggravation anyway, but travel and aggravation made her think, in Helena’s direction, Oh, now you can read my face. An hour ago in the car, not so much. Then she sighed internally. Or maybe, an hour ago in the car, too well.

Pete was continuing, “But the Messiah had strong feelings.”

“Oh no,” Leena said, and Myka knew that Leena saying “oh no” in that particular way meant she knew something, and the something she knew wasn’t good, but Pete kept on, still enthusiastically proud of himself: “So I gloved up, took it where it wanted to be, and then came home. Because it isn’t Christmas till I’ve won the Trivial Pursuit Star Wars Classic Trilogy Collectors’ Edition!”

“Do I seriously have to remind you I’m the reigning champ?” Claudia demanded. “What you’re saying is, it’s never gonna be Christmas.”

“Not for a while yet,” Leena said, “because we’re going back to the Warehouse. Because I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening.”

“Why do I have to go if I can’t hear whatever it is?” Pete whined.

Myka told him, “I can’t hear it either, and it’s your fault.”

“Your ears are your own problem.”

“I might Heimlich you just for the fun of it.”

Steve said, with concern, “I’ve heard that ribs tend to break.”

Myka nodded. “Exactly.”

“Santa would not approve of that attitude, young lady,” Pete chided.

“All I do is lug around stockings full of coal,” she said. “Do your worst, Santa.”

She made the mistake of glancing at Helena, whose face betrayed a responsive ripple of disquiet. Exactly the wrong sentiment for ending a fight, even a foolish one, Myka realized: imply that nothing you carry with you is what you want. “I didn’t mean...” she began, but Claudia was demanding of Leena, “How do you know what’s happening? And what is happening?”

“He put the Messiah sheet music in the Christmas aisle,” Leena said, with what Myka considered enviable patience.

“You say that like it means something!”

“It does mean something,” Leena said. “You’ll see. More importantly, you’ll hear.”

*

At the Warehouse, when they reached the floor, they were greeted by... “Curtains?” Steve tried, because that was what they were. Tall, cream-colored damask curtains with a green floral pattern. Freestanding, blocking their path. Insistently blocking their path.

“For all of us!” Pete tried back. “Dun-dun-DUN!”

“No...” Leena said. She regarded the curtains. “I know who you are,” she said, and Myka found herself unsurprised to see the curtains rustle at that, as if in appreciation. Leena then said, “And now I know exactly what’s happening.”

“A play is beginning?” Helena suggested.

“Not quite, but you’re in the neighborhood. Surely somebody other than me knows who these curtains are really for.”

Pete leaned close to the curtains, then jumped back like they’d bit him. “Oh my god. Now that I look close—the von Trapp kids!”

“Good boy,” Leena said.

“I thought we were calling him a grown man,” groused Myka.

“Leena is providing positive reinforcement,” Helena said. Pedantic, as if Myka had never heard of such a thing.

“I know she’s providing—” But she shut herself up, sighed in frustration instead.

Leena made sure everyone was wearing gloves, then said, “Claudia, keep your goo gun in your pocket; we might find more of them taking their frustrations for a walk.”

“So do we just put things back where they belong?” Steve asked. “And they calm down and the rumble-chatter stops?”

“Any that got themselves where they aren’t supposed to be, we take them back. But here’s what else we have to do.” She paused. “Sing.”

“No,” Myka said, and “no,” she repeated. She chanced a glance at Helena, but she had closed her eyes and seemed to be pre-massaging a headache out of her temples.

Leena appeared not to have heard Myka, for she went on, “We’ll deal with the curtains first. Next, the Messiah goes back where it’s supposed to be—because that’s what started it all. After that, I think Claudia should tell us what we need to do.”

“Oh god,” Claudia said, sounding just about as dread-filled as Myka felt. “This is Caretaker practice, isn’t it?”

“What if it is?” Leena asked.

“Ugh. Thanks, Pete.”

He said, “Maybe it tapped my shoulder because it thought you needed Caretaker practice.”

Myka snorted. “Maybe it tapped your shoulder because it could tell you’re an easy mark.”

“Hey!” he protested.

“Particularly at Christmas.”

“Hey!”

Leena said, “I think the Messiah might have sensed you’d be an easy mark... mostly because you want to make everybody happy. Particularly at Christmas.”

“See? Leena understands,” he taunted Myka.

Myka once again considered the Heimlich.

They escorted the curtains back to the musicals section, passing by Ginger Rogers’s dancing shoes, and Myka was unnervingly tempted to put them on and bleed her way backwards and in high heels out of the entire situation as Leena explained, “People repurpose ‘My Favorite Things’ as a Christmas song. The curtains find that... troubling.”

Pete scratched his head. “I guess I don’t really get that. Isn’t it kinda great?”

“Wait,” Claudia said, “and this might not even be practice: I think I do get it. How they feel. So let’s say you’re you.”

“I’m me,” he said. “Gotcha. Awesome. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Exactly. But what if some holiday thingy came along and made like it was changing you into something else? They’re afraid we’ll put ’em in the Christmas aisle, and they don’t want to be there. Unlike the Messiah, I guess. Am I wrong, Leena?”

“You’re not wrong,” Leena told her, smiling.

“I feel that too,” Steve agreed. “They’re... afraid? Afraid it’ll diminish them. They’ll be about Christmas and that’s all. That’s why they’re so agitated.”

And so the curtains were serenaded with words about raindrops, kittens, kettles, mittens, and all the rest.

“Are they happier now?” Pete asked. “Do they not feel so bad?”

Leena, Claudia, Steve, and Helena all nodded, if not entirely vigorously. Helena said, “Marginally happier. Not knowing the song, I of course couldn’t participate. I hope they aren’t offended.”

But she hadn’t seemed apologetic at all while the singing took place. In fact she’d smirked. So Myka murmured, “Thrilled, more likely.”

Helena pretended to ignore her but also bared her teeth, minimally, in Myka’s direction, as she said, “Popular culture, alas, remains a largely undiscovered country.”

“It’s just one song,” Claudia said. “You’re getting your head around more stuff all the time! Take the Muppets.”

“Last week’s Christmas special,” Helena said, and Claudia nodded. Myka knew they’d been going one per week, because that was as much as Helena could take, whereas Claudia would have set up a holly-jolly IV drip if she could. Helena continued, “The one you called a ‘crash course’ in several shows’ worth of puppets?”

Claudia nodded again, even more enthusiastically. “Muppet Family Christmas! And now you’re up to speed, so for example when I say ‘Oscar,’ you say...”

“I still fail to understand how the large bird, which seems more accurately a costume than a puppet, qualifies.”

“The answer we were looking for was ‘the Grouch,’ so maybe we’re not quite as far along as I thought. I’m not going to bother with when I say ‘Fraggle,’ you say.”

“Consumer of the structures built by the devoted little workers who wear hats.”

“Aaaand that’s why not. Although your essay answer isn’t wrong.”

“Thank you,” Helena said, performing her funny little bow that struck Myka anew, each time she saw it, as a Victorian tell.

*

In fact, Myka had come home from the Warehouse just as that “crash course” was ending: Helena, as always after such a lesson, looked bemused but relieved, while Claudia was fidgeting with post-lecture satisfaction and, most likely, disappointment that she’d have to wait an entire week till the next one. Myka had asked, “Why does Helena need to know about the Muppets?”

Claudia responded with a puzzled, “Why doesn’t she?”

“Bert, Ernie, and the distinctions therebetween,” Helena said to Myka. “Would that I were you and could retain it all.” She smiled a small “but here we are” smile, and Myka leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed that smile. Because she wanted to; because she could. The smile then widened, and Myka tried not to make the mistake of wondering why every moment wasn’t like this one.

“You two can be pretty soft when you want to be,” Claudia remarked.

Myka had thought, No, we’re not this way when we want to be. It was when they weren’t actively wanting it—or needing it—that this ease stole upon them. But here it was... so Myka kissed Helena again, then asked, “What’s for dinner?”

The asking of that question, in the softness of that moment, had seemed an ideal step forward, one not about destiny or fraught inevitability, but balance and consistency. And then Myka did make the mistake: Why couldn’t every moment be like that? What was it that disturbed all the other moments?

*

Now, as they all headed for the Christmas aisle, Pete pulled on Myka’s arm and held her back a bit from the rest. “You mouthed the words,” he accused, very quietly.

“So what if I did? You know I can’t sing.”

“Maybe it makes a difference. H.G. said the drapes were only marginally better.”

“She didn’t sing either, by the way,” Myka pointed out.

Apparently her feelings about that were clear, for Pete said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I meant you and H.G. Incidentally, you walk a little bit like Big Bird.”

“We’re fine. Incidentally, if you got a chicken bone stuck in your throat I wouldn’t be at all upset about what could happen while I was saving your stupid life.”

“I sort of feel like if she choked on a chicken bone, right now, you wouldn’t want to let anybody else do the rib-breaking.”

Myka almost said a dark “you bet I wouldn’t,” but then she realized: “I think that’s always going to be true.”

Pete nodded. “Kiss her, kill her. I get it.”

Unless he was talking about vibes, he didn’t get it, not fully—Myka herself didn’t get it fully, and in everybody’s defense there was a lot to be got—but it was Christmas-sweet that he got as much as he did. She said a mollified, “Look, just don’t make me sing, okay?” Because if there was anything Myka was sure she and Helena definitely did not need right now, it was a replay of “you can’t sing” and “neither can you.”

“No promises, partner. When Leena says ‘jump’ I say ‘my knees are shot.’ You, on the other hand, when she says ‘sing’? Better say ‘how high.’”

“This is kind of a ‘my knees are shot’ situation,” Myka observed.

“What’s the matter with your knees?”

“Never mind.”

And then they reached the Christmas aisle. About which Myka felt, and felt she had a right to feel, a certain amount of post-traumatic stress.

“If you touch anything,” she told Pete, “I will turn your ribs into chicken bones.”

“That makes no sense.”

“And yet you understand me perfectly.”

He took a step away from her. “In a very mobbed-up way, yes I do.”

Helena, Claudia, Leena, and Steve had ringed themselves around a shelf, and Myka peeked over Helena’s shoulder. Only in the Warehouse, she figured, could a piece of music manage to project the idea that it was pleased with itself.

“It’s gloating at me,” Pete complained.

“It did make you do what it wanted,” Steve pointed out.

Claudia said, “It’s like it knew we’d show up right at this moment.”

“I’m pretty sure it did,” Leena said.

Myka, still at Helena’s shoulder, felt a tension in the body that was not quite touching hers. She felt a tension, too, in words that were not quite meant for her to hear as Helena murmured at the music, “What else do you know...”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #B&W Holiday Gift Exchange #kla1991 #Hark #second part coming sooner rather than later #(I hope so anyway)

[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Album Songs Ranking (Remade)

It’s been a few years since I ranked all of Lana’s (album) songs so I wanted to do it again. This is all my OPINION, which I’m sure some people might disagree with, but you don’t have to agree with it. This is also a very long post.

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

This cover song is just a little too drab and uninteresting to me, and I never listen to it. After the brilliant, sprawling, sexy, heart-breaking tracks on Honeymoon, this feels like a tacked-on track just to plump up the album. It feels simply like a cover.

For Free

Though this is a well-made song, with three brilliant women owning the track, it again just feels like a cover. It fits in well with Chemtrails, but by the time I get to this song I’ve had my fill.

Breaking Up Slowly

It just feels repetitive and simple, something only to have on in the background while my attention is diverted. It’s a good song and a nice attempt at bringing Lana’s country music in, but it does little to keep me interested.

God Knows I Tried

This song is filler. Jammed between the jazzy softness of Terrence Loves You and the pop favourite High By The Beach, this track just feels like it was sort of shoved in. It doesn’t even feel completely right on Honeymoon, instead a throwaway song that bridges Ultraviolence and Honeymoon whilst not fitting in with either album.

24

Though perfect for the credits of a Hollywood movie, 24 has plenty of flair but nothing of substance. The lyrics aren’t as imaginative as most of Lana’s music and I’m not surprised this song found itself near the end of the album.

Lucky Ones

Personally, this song irritates me. It's sickly in its lyrics, sugary in the romance and classic Lana tropes of dangerous men and Lana starstruck by them no matter if they’re ‘careless cons and crazy liars’. The little flair of the verses and the overtly sweet chorus really irks me, especially following the brilliance that is Lana’s first ‘Del Rey’ album.

Coachella

It is a rushed track, sounding completely unfinished and hurried with an unconvincing track beat. Polished, it would be brilliant – but it sounds like Lana thought of the song (which sounds promising in the video where she sits in the forest and sings) and had to force it to ‘fit in’ with the trap-pop tracks on Lust For Life. The lyrics are thoughtful, if not cliché, but it could have been done better.

This Is What Makes Us Girls

It just doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe because I can’t connect to the lyrics in any way, I just don’t feel anything when I hear this song and choose to skip it. That being said, the demos are pretty fun.

God Bless America

As much as it’s a song honouring women during a period of time when feminism was being shaken, it doesn’t quite feel like Lana’s heart is in it. The patriotism is uneasy considering she was removing herself from the American flag and its associations, and the anthemic feel never lifts. It’s a sweet song, but never goes deeper than surface level.

Religion

Though fairly sexy and haunting – her unshaken faith to her man, her drawling voice – this delicate track is too simple and sombre for me to get completely into it. I always want to skip and get to my favourites.

In My Feelings

It’s great Lana has a bad-girl, bad-bitch, fuck-you pop track but this, like Coachella, feels unfinished. It has the vibe of work in progress, and the vocals are still messy (surely intentionally, though it doesn’t always come across that way) as well as trying slightly too hard. It doesn’t compare to Fucked My Way Up To The Top.

Beautiful People Beautiful Problems

The verses don’t match up to the choruses and I feel nothing – not empowered or emotional – when listening to this song, but it is a beautiful duet between Lana and Stevie. Their voices really are divine together and though I don’t listen to this song much, the demos are even better.

Change

Mostly because it freaks me out, this is a song I don’t often listen to. With a basic structure yet long, meandering lyrics, Lana broods over the state of America at the time, which can make for depressive listening. Though it’s a pretty enough song, it’s seriousness is too much to bear sometimes.

Blue Velvet

Sometimes too slow, Blue Velvet doesn’t inspire multiple listens in me, but it is a gorgeous cover and absolutely a showcase of Lana’s vocals.

Diet Mountain Dew

A cheeky little track that won many over, it still is hard for me to fully get into it. However, it ages like fine wine and is a wonderful step into the Lizzy Grant unreleased tracks (especially with the many, sometimes even better demos).  

Burning Desire

It’s a messy song, with Lana’s vocals shaky and the instrumental not quite up to scratch, but this song is certainly a guilty pleasure and great for getting into the sexy mood. The car metaphors are a bit much, especially considering it’s for a car advert, but if you get past that it’s a song to add to your freaky playlist.

Money Power Glory

As powerful and dark as this song is, with incredible instrumentals and Lana at her most dynamic, I barely remember the lyrics of the verses, instead waiting for the rich choruses.

Swan Song

A gentle track that has a lot of untapped power behind it, this is a quiet stormer of a song that has a lot of heart and grace. It may be a filler track, but it is definitely better than some.

Bartender

Even more gentle is the confessional, piano-led Bartender, which is a sweet little love song stripped back much like Lana’s simple romance where she sneaks out to see her lover. The main (and probably ridiculous) thing that keeps me from falling in love with this song more – though I’m already pretty amazed by it – is the very quiet sound of feedback that comes and goes, a fuzzy noise that is very subtle but distracting enough for me.

The Next Best American Record

This song would be higher if it was Architecture – the gorgeous, well-thought stunner that wowed us all when it was leaked. The lyrics are less fractured relationship and more wishy washy, wiping away the gritty sadness that made Architecture so beloved (at least to me). Now it’s been made ‘happier’, it’s hard to tell what the song is – is Lana happy with her lover or is she sad like in the unreleased version? Is this a break up song or a celebration of the romance? What does it mean now that it is both of them that are obsessed with writing? It’s something for me to certainly explore more, but it is paled in comparison to the original.

When The World Was At War

This track grew on me, with the hidden lyrics, fun vocals and hopeful message. Lana knows how to make a song that lifts your mood and this is certainly one of them.

Guns and Roses

I used to despise this song – finding it boring and dull. However, after giving it a listen years later, it is in fact a beautiful song with a gritty feel that is perfect for Ultraviolence. It fits in perfectly with the album and the extended tracks, and though it isn’t the strongest lyrically, the vocals and dreamy feel is thrilling.

Lolita

I choose to listen to this song without the underage character – or romantic connotations of her – in mind, instead seeing this song as a grown woman trying to charm an older man. However, as I have grown older – and read (and loved) the book several times more – I feel more inclined to distance myself from this song. It’s a fun, perky pop track but it definitely feels dated.

Dance Till We Die

Lana sings of her connection to other famous female singers and her daughter’s chosen name, making this a very personal pop song that also reminds of When The World Was At War for its hopeful and ultimately positive edge. It is a little slow but incredible touching, and the bridge is so kickass you can’t help but dance along.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

This is a very sweet little song that again showcases the more positive side of Lana’s music, rather than the heartbroken and distressed women she tends to play. Though it is a filler song it’s a very pretty one and so catchy.

Wild At Heart

Wild At Heart is similar to Not All Who Wander Are Lost in that it’s a departure from a tragic femme fatale, instead a love song that also mimics Swan Song in that she considers leaving fame for her lover. What makes it even better is how Lana samples How To Disappear, a much sadder track, and twists it into something happy with this ultimately more upbeat album.

Radio

Like Diet Mountain Dew, Radio is another perky tune that is more than just a catchy filler. It’s a little bit sassy and has an edge to it (with the expletives and how her life is sweet not like sugar but cinnamon) that keeps it from being too frothy. Speaking of Lana’s newfound fame, it’s a nice break from the love ballads and tragedies peppered throughout Born To Die.

Without You

Shockingly dramatic, Without You is the ultimate symbol of Lana’s older music – a woman who could only feel happy unless her man was in her life. She has definitely moved on for the most part from wailing her demise at losing her lover but Without You is still glamorous, catchy and perfect to singalong to.

The Other Woman

This is one of Lana’s best covers – Nina Simone’s song about being the other woman and how it is in fact lonely and heart-breaking. Lana makes the song her own, her vocals stunning and lo-fi with instrumentals that are perfect for Ultraviolence.

How To Disappear

I feel that the live version of How To Disappear, where she sung it on stage before it was released with its real instrumental, is the superior version. It’s stripped back and tender enough to feel the emotion thoroughly, but the album version doesn’t disappoint. It’s one of many great tracks from (what I think is) her best album, and has a great story within it.

Fucked My Way Up To The Top

Lana’s satirical, sexy and stirring Fucked My Way Up To The Top was just tongue-in-cheek enough to keep from being too much of a cliché. Perhaps based on her real experiences but definitely a fuck-you to anyone who critiques her for owning her sexuality, it’s a little bit controversial but an incredible song.

Tomorrow Never Came

This song, which is a gorgeous duet with Sean Ono Lennon and a nice nod to 20th century music, subverts expectations that it is a sad song by in fact including a happy ending. I love how it can make you cry with both sadness and happiness, and tells a sweet story that paints pictures of parks and country houses.

Yosemite

The long-awaited Yosemite didn’t disappoint, and though it took a while to grow on me it became a classic and somehow familiar track. It’s impossible to not sing or dance to it and wouldn’t be out of place in Lust For Life.

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing

It’s quite slow – the Change/24/Old Money of Norman Fucking Rockwell – but it is clearly a personal and well-thought song that references Lana’s great inspiration Sylvia Plath. Lana’s deft at getting her thoughts out in song and I think though it’s not a song I often listen to, it is beautiful.

Honeymoon

The sweeping violins, dramatic vocals and the dangerous undercurrent makes Honeymoon crackle with electricity. It’s an amazing introduction to an album that once again has dangerous men, bad girls who get hurt but are strong again and amazing instrumentals. Though it’s not the best song from the album, it sets the tone perfectly.

Million Dollar Man

Like Without You, it’s another song of complete devastation, which Lana has grown from in her music. Million Dollar Man shows some great vocals and lyrics, and gets the emotion out perfectly whilst honouring the music that inspired her.

Old Money

The verses are pretty enough but they don’t catch my attention the way the choruses do. The slow, steady song took a long time for me to really appreciate but it’s impossible not to feel some kind of emotion when Lana lets her lover know she will be with them whenever they need her.

Sad Girl

Like The Other Woman, Sad Girl shows how being the other woman has it’s downfalls but appreciates the sexy, exciting side of it – how alluring her man is and how much of a bad bitch she may be. Once again, it’s a pure Ultraviolence song that shows Lana’s vocals and music in the best way whilst showcasing the classic caricature of the femme fatale.

Dark Paradise

Strangely upbeat for such a sad song, Dark Paradise is great to dance to but also something that makes you want to cry. Lana’s vocalisations and dramatic lyrics don’t quite compare to some of her other songs but Dark Paradise is iconic.

Summertime Sadness

The slow-burn, emotional gut punch that is Summertime Sadness is always a classic and one of Lana’s best. Though it is far from my personal favourite it is absolutely an outstanding song and the perfect example of Lana’s most well-made and well-delivered songs.

Gods and Monsters

The strained Gods and Monsters is a great tale about the evil side of fame, which Lana never quite delves too deeply into but gives a metaphorical and mildly personal nod to. Gods and Monsters is one of those songs that has you singing along and feeling strong.

Carmen

Carmen is a beautiful, sad story that feels rich and luxurious despite its harrowing lyrics of an alcoholic star. The French bridge adds to the decadence and it feels like a dirty alcohol bottle wrapped in silk, from the tentative verses to the unnerving chorus.

Born To Die

One of Lana’s original pop chart tracks, this is a song that never grows old. It’s one of the blueprints of the Lana Del Rey era and deftly shows her vocals whilst setting the tone for the pessimistic, romantic star in the early 2010s.

Salvatore

Opening with laughing – or crying – Salvatore has an eerie feel to it, though it is completely erotic in feel (enough to ignore some of the simpler lyrics). It is a song that feels dreamy, much like the rest of Honeymoon, but passionate and reminding of some of her older music (from the vocals in the bridge that have a Lolita/Fucked My Way Up To The Top feel to them to the continued trope of bad boys and glamour).

Flipside

Dirty, gritty and quite contained, Flipside is a song that I wished had more attention. It’s not her most imaginative song but there’s something about it, from the gloomy guitars to the hushed vocals, that have me wanting to sing it over and over. It also is one of her great fuck-off songs, as sympathetic as it is resilient.

Doin’ Time

Lana really turns this song into her own with the summery instrumentals and the pop edge she is so good at. It’s surprisingly one of her best covers and a fresh-feeling track that isn’t bogged down by emotion or maudlin music.

Lust For Life

Breathless and oh-so-romantic, Lust For Life is one of those songs that was perfect for the charts, and a key piece in Lana’s turn into becoming more positive. However, as fun and lovely as this song is, the demos are a whole other ball game. A little more ethereal, they fit Lana much more perfectly and it’s sad she dismissed the witchy feel for a song that is brilliant but generic.

Love

One of Lana’s warmest and most refreshing songs, she looks at love with fondness and dedicates this track to her ‘kids’. She knows her fans well and to make a song that references them (much like Happiness Is A Butterfly’s nod to her ‘babies’) makes this song all the more pleasant.

The Greatest

Lana’s vocals are put to good use in this intimately-written song. She speaks her mind in her reminiscence of the past and the worries for the future, all with a storming chorus that is certainly one of her best.

Love Song

Tender and almost tentative, Love Song is one of those tracks that is romantic through-and-through. It’s stripped back enough to feel like it really is a private song for only her lover’s ears, just as confessional as Cinnamon Girl and Bartender.

White Mustang

Short but sweet, this song has all the makings of a Lana Del Rey song, harking back to the Born To Die days with her imagery and fallen love affair, but it is spiky enough to be part of her later music where she starts giving less shits. The whistling and race cars are a nice touch, displaying her play on words snugly.

Dark But Just A Game

Sort of jazzy, Dark But Just A Game is ever-shifting and never quite settles on a particular sound. It’s cohesive, however, and clearly states what Lana is thinking in a way that works with the rest of Chemtrails. It’s pretty sexy as well, which doesn’t hurt the enjoyability factor.

High By The Beach

The wooziness, the carelessness and the growth from a woman begging to be put in a movie to a woman who is able to do as she pleases. Lana stumbles and swears through the song but knows exactly what she wants – and it isn’t disappointing men or stalking paparazzi.

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Some may think it much slower and more boring than a lot of her tracks, but I think it’s a tidy, sweet track. Lana plainly states her love, urges her man to run away with her and lets her emotions (and voice) do the talking.

Summer Bummer

Lana is as restless as a hot summer in this song and it works. Her brisk-paced yet soft-voiced lyrics and gorgeous imagery gets my pulse racing, and ASAP Rocky’s verse works well for it. Though it would have been interesting to get a full, solo Summer Bummer, Rocky adds an edge to this song and compliments his ‘lover’ well.

Groupie Love

Much more flowery and wide-eyed, Groupie Love is like a contradiction. Lana’s passionate dalliance with Rocky’s god-like star opposes the relationship in Summer Bummer (uncertain) but both are just as secret. Groupie Love has the edge of being ultra-dreamy and demonstrating pure love – and lust – without the messiness.

American

It’s a filler track that has potential for much more. It’s an adorable song, almost cautious in its lead-up to the satisfying chorus, and is filled with Lana tropes galore. Following Lana’s stressed Ride and coming before the darkly sensual Cola, American is a breath of fresh air.

National Anthem

What an anthem it is. It’s simply provocative and one of her most classic tracks. Mixing love, money and fame together with a bit of sex thrown in, National Anthem is precisely what Lana’s America seems to be.

Is This Happiness?

It’s muted, mournful and resentful, questioning a relationship that Lana wants to keep but at the same time doesn’t. This is one of Lana’s best sad songs, tearful as it is still adoring beneath the exasperation.

Art Deco

Art Deco is purely dreamy, a song to bathe in. The lyrics are a little bit simple but Lana’s vocals and the flowing, aquatic music is the perfect hook.

Terrence Loves You

Lana’s jazzy song is delicate, letting only her voice and the saxophone dominate. With references to David Bowie, Lana pines for someone who hurt her badly, but she soothes herself with music the way plenty of her fans do when listening to her records.

White Dress

The vocals were a surprise at first – high, strained whispers – but they definitely grew on me. Painting a picture of young Lana loving life and dreaming of bigger things, it’s nostalgic in lyrics but also reminds of some of Lana’s old work – her unreleased tracks where she would serve coke and fries.

Chemtrails

It gets better as it goes on, growing and twisting from a song to sunbathe to into a restless, darkening track. It has the best vibe for an idealised world with something a bit off, and the imagery of pools, jewels and schools grounds Lana into a (very, very rich) normality rather than the glamorous star she always liked to portray.

13 Beaches

Opening with a quote from Carnival of Souls, Lana takes High By The Beach to the next level. She goes from sticking her middle finger up to the paparazzi to simply wishing she would be allowed to live her life without them hounding her. It’s a matured approach that uses sound interestingly, with beeps and whines adding a strange texture to the song.

Cola

The controversial line was intended as humour, but strangely it works. Even if Cola is satire like Fucked My Way Up To The Top, Lana owns the ‘other woman’, the patriotic singer, the sexy and unashamed woman who says what she thinks without caring of the consequences. It’s an iconic song, even if you have to turn the volume down to not offend.

Black Beauty

The unreleased version is ten times more emotive, with its stripped back and lonesome feel, but the album version is just as good. The ultimately loving but unhappy lyrics are full of stunning imagery, and this is a song that would have been perfect with a music video.

Body Electric

Blasphemous as much as it honours icons, Lana sinfully owns Body Electric. The bridge is a bit out of place but Lana’s eyebrow-raising approach to religion and sexuality is genius.

Off To The Races

The best demonstration of Lana’s vocals, Lana plays the glam girl without a care just as well as the Lolita-type, needy lover in this ode to money and her man. The soaring bridge is stunning, and the swirling violins add an air of Hollywood to it.

Bel Air

Completely overlooked (in my opinion), Bel Air is an apologetic song of redemption, a shining and honest track that is as touching as much as it is hazy and tranquil. With soft piano and the sound of children opening and closing the song respectively, it’s set apart from Paradise with a pureness that Lana pulls off well.

Ultraviolence

Controversial at the time and still controversial now, Ultraviolence is about being weak, about giving in to love no matter how toxic. I don’t entirely support the lyrics but it’s a stunning song, lo-fi enough to feel uneasy and haunting. When you shut off from the lyrics, you get a simply beautiful track.

Pretty When You Cry

Lana’s imperfect, close-to-tears vocals are wonderful in this song, and she really lets her emotion shine through. The pained guitar and Lana’s increasingly distressed singing are enough to get you feeling exactly as she does.

Florida Kilos

Fun. Fresh. Freeing. Lana’s ode to drugs is simply something to dance to and sing, and she somehow manages to get the sunny feeling across even with the Ulraviolence-esque grunginess. It’s one of my favourite songs of Lana’s because it’s just so happy, which is a nice departure from some of her heavier tracks.

Cherry

Many people’s favourite – Cherry. It was my favourite of Lana’s for a long time, dripping with sex appeal and sadness but with a cute dance to compliment it. It had all the right stuff wrapped up in a tidy, compact box and the imagery is lush. I still love this song but since then we’ve had the ‘Cherries’ of her next few albums, Cinnamon Girl and Tulsa Jesus Freak. Like these, Cherry was a song that seemed set apart from the rest of the album and was a novel take on her typical music.

California

Simply for It's meaningful, raw lyrics – promising to be there as soon as he wants her, much like in Old Money – California is a sun-soaked dream with a very honest approach. Lana isn’t completely devastated, or begging for her lover to return. She is sad but realistic, and only wants the best for him. It’s beautiful and sad with a crazily addictive chorus.

West Coast

The shift from fast-paced, grungey, whispered verses to sprawling, drawling choruses – complete with weirdly sexy beeps towards the end of the song – shook us all, and it’s one of Lana’s most interesting songs. Lana honours the West Coast but also her man, in love with the music scene as much as she is with him.

Shades of Cool

The snide verses. The gradually growing music. The guitars. The explosive chorus. The nuclear bridge. The absolutely perfect timing and pacing. Shades of Cool is flawless, another Sad Girl but with much more power, emotion and music.

The Blackest Day

The Blackest Day needs more attention. Cold in places, almost lost, but then wounded in the chorus, The Blackest Day rolls with the emotions and is the kind of song that makes you want to fall apart and sob. Which is good, in a way, as it shows how brilliantly Lana conveys emotion.

Freak

Cult-like and haunting, this is the sexy predecessor of California. Lana swoons and tempts in this track, from her harmonising to her pouting “take it to the back if you really wanna talk” - not to mention the rest of the song in its entirely, all elements married together to create the perfect seductive track.

Music To Watch Boys To

Like Art Deco, Music To Watch Boys To is fairly aquatic and dreamy. Like Freak, it has that cult vibe (the chanting of the bridge). However, this song is perfectly its own, from the mix-up of vocal styles to the shifting tone (sad to smug to obsessively in love).

Norman Fucking Rockwell

What an opener. Norman Fucking Rockwell lets the actual singing and lyrics do the talking, the instrumentals pushed back enough to let Lana’s gut-punching first line (“God damn, man child, you fucked me so good that I almost said I love you”) and her blue yet annoyed insults to her Norman Rockwell do the talking.

Mariner’s Apartment Complex

It’s a song for yourself and for the people you love. Lana is strong enough to take care of herself, to be her own guidance – and to take on her lover’s problems too. It’s an empowering song, so distant from a lot of her discography, and I adore the nautical references and the hopeful message.

Brooklyn Baby

Satire again, but it still works. Lana plays a (fairly cringey) and somewhat self-absorbed, over-confident singer who is too cool for her own boyfriend, but she does it well. From saying how she wished people didn’t judge her, to the freedom the seventies gives her, to the warm guitars and upbeat tone, to the backup vocals of Seth Kaufman, Brooklyn Baby is a song to remember for all the right reasons.

Ride

Ride is one of Lana’s best, if not the best. With her devotion to America and her open thoughts about needing other people to make her feel good and happy, Lana knocks it out of the park with the superb step up from Born To Die.

Video Games

Video Games is just beautiful, plain and simple. Lana’s low voice, telling a flowing story of the simplicities of true love, are removed from her ‘famous singer’ image she constantly tried to portray and instead open up to the heart of what she has always sung about: love and its many forms, good or bad.

Get Free

The new take on Ride was a pleasant surprise. From changing the lyrics to show she wants to move on and be happy to (silently) name-dropping her influences, Lana’s manifesto was a personal song that we could all resonate with. The outro of the beach was the perfect closer to Lust For Life, and Get Free summarised the album which took her from sad girl to someone who could let herself move on.

Heroin

Heroin is no doubt one of her best. It’s tense and dark, referencing Manson and (allegedly) a friend she lost years ago. Lana lets herself dive into her worst thoughts headfirst, not so much dreamy as it is nightmarish, but still comes out the other side dreaming of marzipan and ready to move on.

Tulsa Jesus Freak

The third of the ‘Cherries’, Tulsa Jesus Freak goes straight to a happy place. Where Cherry was angry and Cinnamon Girl was cautious, this track dives into being comfortable with her man. It was just as passionate as the other two songs but about religion, sex and self-satisfaction.

Blue Jeans

Plucking guitars, crying violins and Lana weaving a tale about a gangsta who left her, without explanation, and the hurt that follows. Similarly tied to Dark Paradise, Blue Jeans is the next level of that, her tough-girl spoken verses dismissed as the choruses open up and she pours her heart out.

Cruel World

Lana is on top-form on this song, furious, maddened, sad, taunting – she hits every emotion with style. Lana grows more and more unstable as the song goes on, invoking images of a woman scorned and no longer taking that shit, but she still has a fragility about her as she comes undone that is tied directly to her Ultraviolence era.

Happiness Is A Butterfly

This song goes through many stages. She is unsure, not knowing how her lover feels. She is optimistic, elated as she tries to capture the butterfly. She is dismissive, no longer caring if she might get hurt – she loves too much. She is pissed off, sick of being treated badly. She gives in, simply wanting to dance and just be happy. The flow of this song is constant, a little messy, but it has the beautiful message pinned to it: to keep trying to be happy and do what you love.

Fuck It I Love You

I love the music video version more than the album version, the latter being more stripped back. Fuck It I Love You just gives in to emotion, acknowledging Lana is hurt, her lover is hurt, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. She simply lets that feeling take over.

Cinnamon Girl

Cinnamon Girl touched me like no other Lana song has. Where Cherry was a mixture of emotions, good and bad, angry and loving, devastated and thrilled, Cinnamon Girl was about cautious optimism. Lana urges her lover to give in, and she knows – smiling as she sings it – she wins.

Venice Bitch

Venice Bitch just has that soothing, unhindered feel to it – and not just from the nine minutes of pure music and vibe. Lana dedicates this song to the kind of love that is just wholesome and homely, all whilst touching on her insanity, her ever-lasting love for America and the modern world (her live streams). It feels nostalgic yet contemporary, and adding the “fucks” and “bitch[es]” helps keep this song from being to sugary sweet but instead what it is – an honest love song rooted in the idealised and the realistic.

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Casablanca (1942); AFI #3

I am very proud to present the next film on the AFI list, Casablanca (1942). It is truly one of the best examples of fine film from Hollywood's Golden Age. I was surprised to find out that the film only received 3 Oscars and none for the acting. Lead actress Ingrid Bergman was actually nominated for another film that she had made that year (For Whom the Bell Tolls), but it is was highway robbery to think that Humphrey Bogart did not get a Best Actor award for this film. On the bright side, the 3 Oscars were for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. But maybe it really isn’t a good idea to try and compare older films, but instead recognize a masterpiece for what it is. I would love to continue complimenting the movie, but first let me relay the story to you. Oh yeah. One other thing as well:

MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!!! WE GOT ONE OF THE GREATEST MOVIES OF ALL TIME HERE!!! GO AND WATCH IT!!! DON’T LET ME SPOIL IT FOR YOU!!! SERIOUSLY!!!

The film starts out with stock footage and a map showing the plight of many Europeans and how they were being herded to Casablanca and looking for a way out to Lisbon and eventually to America. It is December 1941 and it is the height of the exodus in an attempt to escape Nazi invasion of France and any French colonies. In Casablanca, Morocco, there is an expatriate American that owns a bar in the city that serves both refugees and locals, French and German soldiers. Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) is the American and he is known for taking no sides and only looking out for his own best interest.

It is stated on the radio that two German couriers have been killed for their letters of transit and that people in Casablanca will pay top dollar (and by that I mean anything and everything) to get those papers so that they can leave the country. A conniving thief named Ugarte (played by the great Peter Lorre) entrusts Rick to hold on to the letters. Rick allows the local corrupt police captain Louis Renault (Claude Rains) to arrest the thief and Ugarte dies in jail before revealing who has the papers. Things are getting a little hot and Rick is considering leaving the country so he is very happy to have the letters. It would take a lot for him to even consider selling the letters...that is until...

The reason that Rick is so cold and cynical walks in the door and asks the piano player to play “As Time Goes By” and it becomes apparent that this women has hurt Rick and is his kryptonite. A flashback shows that the two had met and fallen in love in Paris. When the city was raided and Rick and Ilsa were supposed to leave together on a train, he only found a letter that said she could never see him again. Even worse, it turns out that the woman, Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman), is with her husband, the notorious Czech Resistance leader Victor Laszlo (Paul Henreid) who is attempting to escape to Lisbon. A German major name Strasser has also arrived in Casablanca to make sure that Laszlo does not leave and ideally can be arrested or killed without making him into a martyr. 

To really exemplify how bad the situation has gotten, a couple of very short side stories show a young wife that is willing to sleep with the French captain in order to get a plane ticket for herself and her husband. At the bar, a proud French woman is drinking with a German soldier because she feels that some promiscuities might keep her safe and even get her out of Africa. Rick allows the young husband to cheat at roulette so that the wife can keep her honor and the two will have enough money to purchase a passport. Famously, the German that the promiscuous French woman is drinking with starts singing Die Wacht am Rhein and Laszlo asks the band to play La Marseillaise to drown out the German singing. Rick gives the OK, and the band plays the French nationalist song and causes a patriotic fervor, including the French woman who leaves her German partner and sings along with tears in her eyes. The German captain does not like this and tells Renault to close down the club, which he does.

Ilsa and Laszlo hear that Rick has the letters and she goes to try and get them. Rick does not want to give them up and she actually threatens to shoot him. She cannot follow through and she admits that she is still in love with Rick. It turns out that she was married before she met Rick and was under the impression that Laszlo had been killed when she was with Rick in Paris. She suddenly disappeared because she found out that he husband was alive and telling anyone where she was going would be a risk to both her and Rick. The bar owner finally melts off that icy crust. He is willing to give a letter to Laszlo and have Ilsa stay. However, Laszlo has been at a meeting that was broken up and he wants Rick to go with Ilsa to Lisbon to make sure she is safe.

Renault tries to arrest Laszlo on some fake charge that will only hold him the night, but Rick promises to set him up for a more serious crime. Rick pretends to turn on Laszlo, but he actually has used the time to arrange for Laszlo to leave on a plane that night. The German commander is informed and races over to the airport to stop everything and Renault is being held at gunpoint by Rick until Ilsa and Laszlo can leave. A final showdown occurs at the airport hanger where Rick is holding the two officers at bay while Laszlo and Ilsa leave. She is hesitant and that is when we get the famous “maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow” speech. It is beautiful and poignant, making for maybe the best couple of sentences of dialogue in American cinema. Strasser tries to warn the tower but Rick shoots and kills him. The French Captain tells his men to round up the usual subjects, not revealing who actually killed the German officer. Rick and the French captain walk away discussing what they will do next, ending the film with the famous line, “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

I am so happy to have watched this film again because it puts me in a great mood every time that I see it. Not surprisingly, the AFI has a strong affinity for this film and gave it accolades whenever possible. The film was #37 on the top 100 thrills, #1 on the top 100 passions, #4 greatest film hero for Rick Blaine, #2 song for “As Time Goes By,” 6 different lines on the top 100 movie quotes, and #32 on the top 100 cheer films. I have to be a little careful when I watch this films because it has a carryover effect and can make the films I see immediately before and after seem like garbage. Speaking of which...

I was surprised watching All the President’s Men with how close to the actual event that the movie was produced, yet Casablanca did it even closer in time and did a much better job. There are stories of soldiers that joined the military after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and saw the film before leaving to take part in Project Torch, which was the Allied mission to retake North Africa including Casablanca. The IMDB trivia mentions that some of the actors that played the extra Nazi officers were German Jews that escaped to America. The actress that played the French woman who was cavorting with the German officers is shown crying during the famous French National Anthem scene...that wasn’t scripted. She was a French citizen who had family fighting against the Germans back home and she was upset. The German singing was supposed to be a Nazi rally song, but the film producers could not acquire the rights without having to deal directly with Nazi representatives and possibly pay royalties to the group. That sure as hell wasn’t happening so they picked a royalty free German song.

There were a lot of Americans in the US at the time that did not think that the Nazis were all that bad and were more focused on the clear and present danger of Japan. There were many people that were confused why the US was fighting in Africa when Pearl Harbor was attacked by Japan. At some level, this film served as a form of propaganda to help drum up support for the war in Europe and Africa. It worked well. The beginning intro to the film that explained the volatile situation in North Africa was news to many moviegoers at the time (it kind of was for me as well). 

I have spent the week praising this film, but I do have to point out a couple of egregious flaws with the special effects. There is a scene of Rick and Ilsa back in Paris and, since the country was occupied, there was no way lo film on location or even get any up-to-date establishing shots. Therefore, all they had was old background roll for driving and at a café, so that is what they two characters did in France: took a terrible looking car ride and sat at a café. It looks pretty terrible, but luckily it does not last and accounts for a very short portion of the film. They also couldn’t get permission to fly planes so low over Hollywood lots so they just paper used cutouts layered over the film to show the planes taking off and landing at the airstrip in Casablanca. It is blatant, but the movie is so old and is otherwise so perfect that it is more charming to me than anything else. 

So does this movie belong on the AFI top 100 as #3? Sure does. This is one of the quintessential American movies that should be seen. There was some discussion amongst my group of whether the film was too high because of films like Gone With the Wind and The Wizard of Oz being lower, but there was no argument that it is Top 5 as far as greatest American films. Do I recommend it? Of course! It is a time capsule of the 40s, it is an excellent story, it has quotes that are excepted as part of American English vernacular, and it stars two of the biggest actors in all of Hollywood cinema history. Please go and watch it. And tell me what you thought, because I have not had anybody who was sorry that they took the time for a viewing. You will thank me later.

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