#painting austin powers as out of touch

[nelson-riddle-me-this]

also if i put an annoying version of a song in my playlists, it's there for a reason

#this is about #mel torme's #secret agent man #painting austin powers as out of touch #and seth macfarlane #'reprising' #“You Couldn't Be Cuter” #on my #the philadelphia story #playlist #acting as a suitably square stand-in for george #also #vic damone 'reprising' #“the things we did last summer” #in my playlist for #the apartment 1960 #to represent the Fred MacMurray character

[sunset-a-story]

A Few Find the Words in One

I've been tagged in a few of these the past couple of days so I'm going to take a page out of @winterandwords book and combine them.

My words @lexiklecksi: crazy, flower, comfort, accusation, deprivation @words-after-midnight: dream, break, poor, light, yearn(ing) @words-after-midnight redux: lend, tooth, early, heavy, intense.

I'm not doing all of these words because that is too much but I did more than half

Crazy

Alex did his best not to give him a you’re-crazy look. “Okay, then. I’m a psychometrist." "Cool." Lee nodded so casually that it took Alex by surprise. This really was just their normal around here. Lee made a face. "You must hate toilets." He laughed, doing his best to keep the volume down. "You have no idea."

Poor

Adler ran his finger down the wall. The concrete falling away from the brick was a brilliant cobalt blue. Floor, ceiling, walls, pillars, everything that hadn’t crumbled away was blue. He’d bought the dilapidated, nearly two-hundred-year-old paint factory years ago, on the cheap, but hadn’t gotten around to tearing it down and replacing it with something useful. It was hard to, the more he thought about it, though it was clearly in the process of tearing itself down. The history of the building spoke to him. No one had painted these walls blue. The rising dust from grinding cobalt day after day and year after year had tinted everything it touched, including the poor work animals that powered the mill. Beauty as a side effect of function.

Tooth

Reeve’s brow furrowed, “Yeah, I’ll want to go in so I can facilitate something quieter that’s less likely to raise suspicion.” Gareth snorted. Reeve glared at him. “What.” Gareth shook his head and pursed his lips. “Nothing, I’ve just never heard scrambling someone’s brains referred to in such fancy language.” “You get how stupid it is to be sarcastic at a telepath about telepathy right?” “I thought you weren’t supposed to be reading my thoughts.” She rolled her eyes at Gareth. “Dude, we all know what you’re thinking. Three-toothed Dan who runs the gas station knows what you’re thinking.”

Dream

They made their way through the squares at the center of the city and headed on to the Eastern outskirts. The gleaming resorts and church spires slowly gave way to narrow gravel roads and graffiti. Tangles of power lines crisscrossed above them like dreamcatchers. The brightly painted houses were clustered together and on top of each other like a child’s building blocks. There were stone walls on every street in various stages of collapsing into rubble and bars on every window.

Accusation

Austin laughed, head thrown back. “How the mighty have fallen, huh?” He sniffed. “Aw, fuck.” Rushing back to the stove, Austin moved the smoking pan off the heat and stared at it. “Banana pancakes,” he said neutrally somewhere between an explanation and an accusation.

Break

[Through his telepathy] Reeve could feel Gareth’s mind racing with a violent sense of restraint that felt like pulling a plane out of the sky with twine. He wanted to cut his knuckles on Reeve’s eye sockets. Just start breaking bones until there was an expression on his face. “Out,” Gareth said aloud, breathing quickly. He tightened his grip. Tangled up in Gareth’s sensations Reeve could feel his own collarbone creak under a hand that wasn’t his.

Heavy

Temple cleared her throat and said, “Air resistance is the only thing preventing water molecules from falling through space at such high speeds that they’d kill everything in their wake. Just air. You can’t see it unless particles are suspended in it. Smoke is just a poof of dust that makes the invisible visible. And even once you see it, what you can’t see is just how heavy it is. Air weighs enough to scare the living daylights out of you. Resistance and invisible, imperceptible, impossibly heavy weight. That’s it. That’s the thing--the most important thing--that keeps us as organisms alive.” She looked around the bar. “Where the fuck is the waiter?”

I'm leaving this an open tag so if you're in the mood, look for these words in your WIP: echo, forgot, tea, coast, hush

#writer tag game #find the word game #writeblr #writeblr community #find the word tag #find the word #my original content #wip excerpt #writers of tumblr

[cherrynika]

nsfw

half a fic. I have no idea how to finish it. It feels like it could be a paint-by-the-numbers but I don't really want for it to be.

The best thing about the Austin Grand Prix is a private jet to New York when the race is over. Daniel usually heads off to Los Angeles to see his Hollywood friends, some of the younger guys who aren’t jaded yet visit the golf courses. A man Toto’s age knows that every golf course is the same. He’s too old to spend hours in the sun agonizing over birdies and handicaps. There’s too much randomness in golf. He wants a sure thing. 

Sure things include Russian martini bars in Manhattan, Don Angie in the West Village  with once-a-year high calorie Italian food, and @BestCumDumps’ updates on all the best parties. 

“@XXlover 8am to 8pm, The Cecil, 554, 25th October” has been cycling in his mind since Twitter pinged on his phone on Friday night. Toto would think he was doing this on purpose, except that he’s so far down the order that they’re irrelevant to Mercedes. He’s probably just bored at work. Sebastian once said, straddling his lap and doing up his buttons, “Not everything is about you.”

He gives Lewis and Angela a hug when they split up at Teterboro Airport. It’s dim and cool on the tarmac, the sun has only been up for a little while and hasn’t had the chance to blast New York with its full power. 

“We’re going to Studio 54 tonight, call us if you want to come.” Lewis has a smile in his voice, probably thinking of all the camgirls he’s going to party with. 

“I don’t have the right clothes. I’ll see you at home.” He keeps his hands firmly tucked into his pockets. A braid has wound its way out of the bun on Lewis’ head, he wants to push it behind his ear. 

In the beginning, Lewis would have called out his pathetic excuse and told him to buy some clothes. There was a period of a few years when he would have bought them and hung around Lewis’ hotel lobby waiting for a chance at another hug. They’re past it now. It’s healthier. 

New York makes him feel anonymous, the top floor of The Kixby makes him feel young with its monochrome furnishings and silence. The showers, large for New York according to the reviews, are still a touch too small, he has to duck his head to get it wet. The water pressure is sufficiently strong, he wants to be as clean as possible though he’s just going to get dirty again.

He’s drying his hair with the hotel-supplied blow dryer, doing the left side neatly before moving on to the right, when his phone lights up again. 

It’s @XXlover. “7.59 am. No more updates until tonight.”

From the photos he posted on Twitter he’s certainly well-prepared: a variety of lubes, and gratis towels and napkins for all comers. A few hastily arranged bouquets to set the mood. Sebastian fancies himself an expert on all kinds of things, motorbike repair, dirt-biking, baking and home decoration, but like the average F1 driver his knowledge of everything outside a single-seater is painfully shallow. The flower arrangements are unbalanced, too much white. One of them is even lopsided. 

Toto sets his alarm clock for 10am before drawing the blackout curtains and lying down to try to sleep. His back is sore, he’ll need to see his physiotherapist again. All he wants is to head over to The Cecil and hold Sebastian down on the cheap bedspread, push his face into the pillow and make him scream, but that wouldn’t be different from a regular hook up. It’s always better to see him in the afternoon when he’s too tired to talk. The less said about either of their races the better. 

He sleeps fitfully, unused to the hour. In England it’s mid-day and he’d usually be wide awake. His body doesn’t recognise any of these times anymore, they’ve travelled so much in the last few weeks and he’s grown a tolerance to his melatonin pills. He’d stop his doctor from prescribing them to him but they’re all still pretending he sleeps at all. It’s an unsatisfying few hours dipping in and out of wakefulness in the dark, the dull roar of traffic is annoying but there’s no one to shout at. 

When he can finally tear himself out of bed the rest of the day is a wash too. Angela told him that lines at Supreme start long before opening hours, true enough, even with an hour to go there’s 30 people standing outside. None of the grubby teenagers in the queue will accept a hundred dollars to piss off and let him take their place. One of them even called him old and creepy. If only child labour were still legal; they’d be working in a horse meat factory instead of loitering. 

At the Minetta Tavern in Greenwich they’ve changed the chef. The minestrone is a touch too sour for him. He picks at his osso bucco and pretends to read the Wall Street Journal while waiting for the minutes to pass. 

The Cecil isn’t far, just 20 minutes away on foot, the streets getting grimier as he gets closer. He gives an overflowing dustbin a wide berth; Monaco is spotlessly clean, and safer with a policeman never more than two minutes away, but the scent of danger befits what they’re doing today. “It’s perfectly safe,” Seb told him the first time. “You also think that racing is safe,” he had replied, he doesn’t know what he’s trying to do sometimes, why would he ever discourage Sebastian from doing either. “Ships are–” Sebastian was going to give him stupid bullshit about harbours and the sea, but he’d clapped a hand over his mouth and that was the end of the discussion. 

The Cecil is a dismal-looking high-rise that needs a paintjob, with a burnished golden revolving door and no doorman. Perfect for people who want to sneak in and out unnoticed. 

The lobby is a dingy little place, and the concierge is an old lady watching Netflix on her phone. The wait for the lift is an uncomfortable little eternity. It’s a relief when the doors open and he can be on his way. The lift clanks upwards. His face is slightly distorted and sallow in the mirrored walls, the marionette lines more prominent than he imagined. He always imagines himself looking the way he did on his 30th birthday, but time and reality have a nasty way of destroying those fantasies. 

On the fifth floor there’s a faint sound of someone’s television, a woman crying, someone shouting on the phone, all muffled by the walls and carpeting. It isn’t really the sybaritic paradise he imagined, with a man naked and waiting behind every door. Just one door. 

He stands outside 554 for a beat; it’s not exactly bad manners to come in when it’s occupied (can it really be ‘occupied’ when the point is sharing?) but he’d rather not. He’d rather wait politely. But there are no voices. The door opens without resistance, the appeal, he now knows, of dumps like The Cecil, is precisely the lack of key card restricted access. 

Sebastian’s lying on the queen-sized bed, face down, ass propped up on a pillow. His hair’s mussed up, revealing the bald spot he’s been so self-conscious of, and his back and neck are a mess of love bites and sweat. “You smell worse than Lewis after a race.” Lewis smells like a mix of sweat and piss, which at least belong to him. Sebastian is the human equivalent of a bunch of wet wipes in a locker room after a hazing session. 

Toto sits down on the edge of the bed, hopefully it’s clean, and toes his shoes off. Next goes the belt, then his clothes, he folds them up and leaves them on the nightstand as far from the lube as he can. 

“Are you asleep?”

“I’m just tired.” Sebastian speaks into the mattress. He sounds a little hoarse. Toto wants to make him drink some water, maybe before he leaves. 

“Ready for me to start?”

“I’ve been ready since this morning.” His Hessian accent is almost gone but it slips back when he’s exhausted. This is probably what he sounds like when he’s talking to Hanna before falling asleep. 

He squeezes Sebastian’s shoulder before crouching on the bed behind him and parting his legs. The sheets are uncomfortably tacky and damp; Toto hates dirt but sticky and filthy is the entire point of this exercise. Sebastian arches his back and flexes his glutes in return and leaks a pearly trail on the towel under him: cum, lube, moisturizer. Toto grasps a generous handful of one fuzzy cheek and squeezes. It’s as soft and white as the bread at the hotel breakfasts at every American grand prix. “This is not real bread”, Seb had said, “A proper loaf should have texture and bite.” 

Seb’s bite is all on the inside. 

Toto traces his rim with a finger, slipping a finger in easily. This is the loosest and wettest Seb’s been all year. The noughts were filled with tasteless hotdog-down-hallways jokes. The average person knows nothing about how erotic it is to use someone until the elastic of their mind and body is all worn out. 

Sebastian shifts on the bed, scratching his tummy. 

“Bored?”

“It’s beginning to itch a little.”

[skyseoroundtable]

10 Benefits Of Utilizing Glass As A Building Material

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4. Glass is additionally rust-evidence. Not in any respect like some different, it'll not corrupt by way of synthetic compounds and the encircling ecological impacts.

It has a clean and polished floor. Therefore, glass is dust-proof and finally simple to easy.

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You are plenty greater at ease from electric powered risks. The glass is an remarkable cowl. It is in the end unthinkable for it to transmit electric drift.

8. Assortment of tones. At the factor whilst you be a part of the glass in included or blanketed devices, it changes in shading and look.

Glass may be squeezed, blown, and drawn to any form. Thusly, it's far utilized in homes, keep fronts, windows, and doors. After overlay with pressed wooden or a metallic sheet, you may likewise put it to use for furnishings.

It is in particular extremely good for show regions and well-knownshows. Glass gives the manner to function an item.

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Contact Solar Glass Inc,

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#Shower Doors Rockville Centre #Shower Doors Wantagh #Shower Doors North Valley stream

[sailmiral]

Icarly ilike jake

Feeling bad, he decides to allow Carly, Sam and Freddie to attach the last part onto his sculpture, including them in the fame, and Sam gets to meet one of her favorite record holders, the world's fattest priest. But Spencer does, because of his kinetic sculpture that has the most moving parts in the world. Unfortunately, when Spencer powers on his sculpture, the power goes out, and they don't get to break a world record. Meanwhile, Spencer builds a sculpture out of all the trash stored in crates. He eventually changes his mind and lets Carly remain living with Spencer.Ĭarly, Sam, and Freddie want to break a world record for the longest webcast, which has to be longer than 24 hours and 8 minutes. When Carly's grandfather visits and sees her nearly decapitated by a hammer as a result of one of Spencer's sculptures malfunctioning, he wants her to come and live with him in Yakima, WA for safety. Meanwhile, Spencer has a girlfriend who can juggle. But when they use the green screen to get hilarious backgrounds, people come back and iCarly has more viewers than ever. She ends up performing on the bagpipes and their view count drops instantly. She threatens to call the police and expel them unless she performs on her webshow. They find out she is addicted to Randy Jackson and they eventually get caught when Sam tries to get them out. Briggs to see what mean teachers do after school for a segment on iCarly. Briggs is mean to everyone, Carly and Freddie spy on Ms. However, the mistakes still end up drawing more viewers and nobody touches Lewbert's wart.īecause Ms. Freddie and Spencer make an electric sign saying "Please go online to ", but it malfunctions and instead says "Pee on Carl". Carly and Sam make a sign, but it is ruined in the rain. It's Freddie and Spencer versus Carly and Sam. When the iCarly gang gets the same number of viewers every week, they hold a contest to see who can draw more viewers. Guest Star: Austin Butler as Jake Crandall Meanwhile, Spencer creates a splatter paint sculpture which Carly helps splatter paint. In the end, he ends up getting back together with his ex-girlfriend after she hears him sing on iCarly, and because he assumes that Carly is dating Freddie after seeing her kiss his nose. When Carly asks Jake to come to her apartment and see the iCarly studio, Jake says yes and quickly develops a crush on her. When Jake Crandall ( Austin Butler) breaks up with his girlfriend, the girls at Ridgeway go crazy about him being single. Note: This is the only episode that does not involve Spencer in another or in the same story as the gang. Briggs rejects them all, inspiring them to make their own webshow titled iCarly. They eventually finish the auditions and pick which ones they want to be in it. Freddie Benson ( Nathan Kress), who has a crush on Carly but is enemies with Sam, brings his tech equipment to videotape the auditions. Because of this, they are forced to be the judges of the school talent show auditions. Francean Briggs head onto the body of a rhinoceros even though her best friend, Sam Puckett ( Jennette McCurdy), did it. In the pilot episode of the series, Carly Shay ( Miranda Cosgrove) is accused of photodocking Ms. The following is a list of episodes in the first season of iCarly, listed in production order.

#Icarly ilike jake

[iamalivenow]

this opening is so well edited, the characterization is so sharp. im obsessed.

(transcript under the read more)

Austin: -To your right there are no maps or paintings, only instructions, signs that remind you Exactly where you really sit. Do not speak unless spoken too. Do not touch any handles without being asked. Have All documentation ready. And in front of you, a wall. It’s top half a glass window, it’s bottom half a collection of little cabinet doors and slots and drawers, and behind it all, a figure in pitch perfect white and blue, a member of the Glim Macula.

Austin, as Interviewer: This part of the interview is for administrative purposes only. What is your name?

(Music begins.)

(From this point on, everything is spoken quickly, with quick editing and almost no pauses between.)

Lye: Uh- Lye Lyken

Duvall: Myer Leopold Duvall

Marn: Uh, yeah. My name is Marn Encura

Virtue: My name is Virtue Mondegreen

Es: Sinteque Moyal but I go by Es.

Chine: Chine.

Interviewer: And your surname?

Chine: I don’t... have one.

Pickman: Uh- Pickman. Pickman is the surname.

Interviewer: What is your given name then?

Pickman: Earnesty.

Interviewer: Where were you born?

Duvall: The First Canton.

Marn: Um, I was born in a little town called Fish?

Chine: Blackwick.

Es: I was born in the First Canton.

Lye: The Enscola Republic.

Virtue: In the Third Canton- Enscola, I suppose you call it now.

Pickman: (crosstalk, trudding(?) street? stream?) Uh, White City, Pale Magestratum.

Interviewer: Why are you here in Sapodilla today?

Es: Work and Pleasure : )

Lye: Travel.

Duvall: I’m here to acquire a painting.

Virtue: What would you call academic pursuits?

Pickman: I’m looking for a friend.

Interviewer: You’re looking for a friend- Which friend?

Pickman: Uh, his name is Calen.

Interviewer: You have a- a full name on Calen?

Pickman: Uh no, we’re personal like that.

Interviewer, sighing: How long will you be staying?

Virtue: Oh- I don’t think we’ll be here over a week? I can’t see that.

Interviewer: We? You’re traveling with some other people?

Virtue: Yes, well I came through with, uh, Bucho? I believe.

Es: Mister Bucho?

Pickman: Bucho.

Marn: Uh, Bucho.

Chine: Some people call him Big Bucho. Uh- T-two Step Bucho?

Interviewer: Bucho... I see. I see. What is your profession or occupation?

Es: I would say problem solver.

Lye: Handyman.

Pickman: I work on the Shape.

Virtue: Consultant for the Blackwick Group.

Interviewer: And what is the Blackwick Group?

Duvall: Paranormal investigators perhaps is the right term.

Interviewer: When did you last come into contact with a beast of the Heartland?

Chine, exhaling: What ah- What are you counting as a beast here?

Interviewer: Our definition is broad. Your answer should be too.

Chine: Okay- uh. This morning.

Interviewer: When was the last time you came into contact with external blood and or ichors.

Lye: Can you describe external blood?

Interviewer: Blood that does not come from yourself.

Virtue: You know... I’m going to have to say no on this one.

Interviewer: -Textiles or medals of unknown constitution according to the Established code.

Pickman: Who’s code? Your code?

Interviewer: That’s right.

Pickman: Oh, you forbid all kinds of things. Probably.

Es: Ah- You know, sometimes you see a blended fabric in the market, and you touch it and you find it a little strange, but-

Interviewer: Have you been beyond the Walled City more than three times in the last three hundred sixty five days Or for a period of greater than or equaling to thirty five consecutive days in the last five years?

Pickman: Never in my life.

Interviewer: Have you spent any Significant or Intimate time with anyone who has?

Lye: Well that’s not the sort of- I don’t have the sort of administration work to do.

Interviewer: I see. Have you encountered the written or drawn Shape.

Lye: No.

Virtue: I would Never. Powers like that are not meant to be trifled with. :)

Marn: Um- Yeah, I wrote it recently under the-

Interviewer: No worries. Its time to start the interview.

Music fades out.

#friends at the table #f@tt #fatt #sangfielle

[devilberries]

~Tears of Themis~

Marius royalty au

Part ii coming out soon with Marius x femMC

Pressure.

Marius Von Hagen knew pressure very well. In fact, he was acquainted with pressure since he was born. Pressure had been holding his hand since he learned how to walk, and it’s always stuck by his side.

Pressure weighed on his back when he became prince. Pressure weighed on his back when he sat with the neighboring royal children. Pressure weighed on his back when his brother ran away. Pressure weighed on his back when he became the crown prince. Pressure weighed on his back when his parents both grew old and ill.

Pressure weighed on his back when he became king.

And here he sat on the throne. It felt uncomfortable, like he didn’t belong there. The elbow rests of the golden chair were cold, unwelcoming. The seat itself was big. He felt like a small child, sitting there.

It reminded him that he was only king in name. At least, that was what people kept saying. He almost believed them. He really should. After all, how could he rule a kingdom he was never meant to rule?

Was this why his brother left? Were the responsibilities too much? Was this why he ran away, leaving all the heavy burdens behind for his pitiful younger brother?

Marius slumped in his seat defeatedly. It wasn’t like he could ask his parents for help when they were both ill in their beds.

But now that there was a change in power, advisors, military commanders, and neighboring kingdoms were watching for a chance to swoop in and eat up Marius. They were waiting for him to slip and fall, using it to their advantage. They would try and try to manipulate Marius, the ignorant younger prince who only knew how to draw.

He heard the whispers in the long halls. He knew of the names they conjured up for him. He could feel the contempt through their fake smiles.

“Your Royal Majesty,” one of the advisors coughed. Marius snapped out of his daze and looked at him. The advisor furrowed his eyebrow and stated, “As the king of this nation, it would be wise not to mindlessly daydream in the middle of a meeting.”

Marius could hear another counselor scoff under his breath, “King? He’s no king. Just a foolish child wearing a crown.”

He raised eyes at the two men calmly.

“Tell me, old man, who is my father?”

The counselor stared back at him with caution as he answered, “His Royal Majesty King Austin von Hagen.”

Marius smirked when he heard his voice quiver. “Alright, and what is my brother’s title?”

Whispers rush between the men along the long table. It was an unspoken rule not to speak of the original crown prince. They could feel the tension suffocate them.

“H-His Royal Highness… Prince G-Giann von Hagen.”

“Good!” Marius smiled, praising the old man, who sat there, sweating buckets of water. “Now,” he stared straight into his eyes, “what is my title?”

“Y-Your Royal Majesty… King Marius von Hagen II.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Marius waved his finger at the counselor. “That’s not what you said a few seconds ago. Tell me, oh, wise counselor.” He walked behind the old man, towering above him. He placed his hands on his shoulders and asked, “What did you call me?”

The silence was loud. Everyone could only look down, ignoring the counselor. Marius could feel the man shake beneath his touch.

He knew this wasn’t the life he was meant for. He knew that he was better off painting somewhere far away from the throne. Marius knew he was an incompetent king.

But a king nonetheless.

When the man said nothing, Marius whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “That’s treason, you know? What should we do with you, hmm? We could,” he traced his finger on the shaking counselor’s neck, “slit your throat. Hang you. Maybe both. Or wait,” he snaked his arm around the man’s shoulder and harshly grabbed the man’s cheeks with one hand.

“We could cut that tongue of yours out.”

As if that triggered something in him, the man began to sputter out words, begging for mercy. He’d be on his knees if he could, but he didn’t dare shove Marius away. The young king cringed when he felt the man’s snot and tears drip down on his hand. Hastily, he pulled away and called for the guards.

As they forced the counselor away, he screamed and cried, but they all fell on deaf ears. Marius turned to the others who sat there with pale faces.

“I think it’d be best to end the meeting here today. Good day, everyone.” He turned to leave, and everyone let out a sigh of relief, until he turned around. They all flinched and attempted to compose themselves. “Ah, by the way,” he eyed each one of them carefully. “I wasn’t joking when I said that was treason. If I hear a single one of you utter a word about my father, brother, or me, I will cut your tongues out, and let it be known that your families won’t be spared.”

He swiftly exited the room and headed to his parents room.

Pressure trailed behind him, so he walked faster. It was a hopeless attempt, as it caught up to him in no time. He paused his movement and clutched his chest, taking in heavy breaths. The shame and embarrassment clouds his vision, while fear blocked his hearing. He was simply alone, facing his fellow friend pressure once more.

He could tell it was mocking him. He could hear its laughs as it pointed at him, calling his crown unbefitting of him, a faux king. He could feel the judgement of its eyes as it stared at him, his glimmering jewels and badges and oversized cape.

Even with all the riches and gold covering him, he felt so naked.

When he felt its hand on its shoulder, he turned and yelled at it, hoping the nightmare would end.

“Get away from me!”

There he was, Vyn, his Royal Tutor, hand in the air as it was shoved away by Marius, and wearing a surprised expression on his face.

He quickly erased whatever trace of shock he had on his face and inquired the boy, “Should we skip todays lessons, Your Royal Majesty?”

Marius blinked back at him, not comprehending what he had just said.

What just happened? Did he shove Vyn?

Vyn saw his visible panic and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. The poor boy looked at him with fear.

“Your Royal Majesty-“

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered with closed eyes. “That’s not me. I’m not…”

“Oh, but you are,” Vyn said. “Let’s talk somewhere more private, shall we?”

No words came out of Marius, so the Tutor pulled the depressed king along with him into a private guest bedroom. He softly pushed Marius to sit on the bed, while he himself sat on the chair, watching the boy.

“How do you feel?”

Marius stared at the ground emptily. “Can I answer you honestly, Vyn?”

“Of course. You can tell me anything… Marius,” he added that at the end carefully. The boy let out a relieved sigh once he heard Vyn drop the honorifics.

“You really don’t have to call me all those things in public either, Vyn.”

He smiled, “That would be rude and almost treasonous. Didn’t I teach you that?”

“Argh,” Marius bent over, covering his face. “Don’t even mention the word treason near me again.”

“Why? What’s wrong with that?”

Marius looked up, and Vyn chuckled at his distressed expression. “I may have gotten mad at someone for talking shit about me, so I sent him to the chambers and threatened to cut his tongue off…”

Vyn raised an eyebrow, “Was it someone from the Council?”

“Yeah, it was,” Marius sighed.

“Well, it was very irrational to say, at the least, but at least you took the initiative to use your power. That’s the first step of being a ruler.”

“But I don’t want to be a ruler, Vyn. You know that. This,” he got up and spread his arms out, pointing to himself, “none of this stuff feels right. Being King doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right. Everything is just so…” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes hard to stop the tears.

Vyn sat there patiently. He watched as the boy just a bit younger than him fall apart. He knew it would happen one day. No, in fact, he hoped it would happen. Perhaps this was Marius’s way to free himself from this mess of a kingdom he was born it.

The Tutor was smart. He was intelligent enough to be a military strategist, maybe even be King, but he was unlucky. He was born with commoner blood, yet maybe he was grateful to have been a mere peasant, a mere servant to serve a spoiled prince because he realized being born with royal blood didn’t mean you were lucky; you were just crushed even more by the endless expectations of thousands of people who entrust their lives to you.

He knew what Marius was going to

Everything was just so suffocating.

———————————

It took a while for Marius to stop crying. Vyn chuckled to himself thinking about it. How old was he? Twenty-one, right? Twenty-one and still weeping like he was five.

“Marius.” The boy who was sitting down on the bed, hugging a soft white pillow, looked up with puffy eyes. They decided it was best to stay until his eyes were a bit better in case word spreads that the King is a big baby. “If the pressure makes you too anxious, how about visiting the Themis Temple?”

“Temple? But I’m not religious,” Marius sniffed.

“I know that, but it might calm you a bit. Visiting the temple may bring peace and tranquil for your mind. Plus, I heard the priests and priestesses there are very kind and welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”

The boy raised his eyebrow when he heard the words “welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”

Was there really such a place that would overlook such things?

“Plus, I hear that they have this intriguing… we’ll call it ‘tradition.’”

“What do you mean by that?” Marius questioned.

“Well, you see, they believe that all the Head Priestesses that are born inherit Themis’s blood. I hear the Head Priestess as of now has a daughter who is coming of age to become the next Head Priestess, so they’re having this event, almost like a ritual to perform on the girl.”

Marius furrowed his eyebrows. “Ritual?”

Vyn nodded, “Yes, a ritual. I’ve only heard rumors, since the last one was forty years ago, but, apparently, the girl gets hot water poured all over her. It’s suppose to symbolize inheriting the burdens of the last Head Priestess and to make her feel the injustice of this world weigh down on her.”

Marius frowned. That sounded more like torture. He felt pity for the girl. She seemed similar to Marius, born with responsibility and pressure, with a role she never asked for.

“How about you go with me right now? We can use our study time to see whether or not you’ll like it. Plus, I believe it’s an opportunity of a lifetime.”

“But won’t people recognize me?” He inquired.

“The question you should be asking is not that, but if you ‘want’ people to recognize you.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want people to know,” he grumbled.

“Then we shall dress as normal aristocrats. Come now, I have plenty of clothes that will suit you. You’ll have to make due with a commoner’s clothes, Your-“

“Don’t even think about addressing me like that,” he sneers. “And I don’t mind about wearing commoner stuff. I don’t care for this social hierarchy at all.”

Vyn whistles, “How cute, coming from a person of privilege.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!”

“Right, right, of course. I’ll just have to trust your word then. Now, shall we get dressed?”

The two exit the guest bedroom and head to Vyn’s, which was a couple doors down the hall. They walked side by side. Though the servants and maids whispered among themselves, Marius was occupied with his thoughts.

He couldn’t get his mind off of the girl. Perhaps it was infatuation, or genuine curiosity. He created an illusion in his mind.

In his fantasies, he would speak with the girl. He would ask if she felt proud to be part of this bloodline of Goddess’s, or if she felt as if such a position did not suit someone like her. In his mind, she would hesitantly tell him her true thoughts, that she didn’t want to burn under the wrath of the burning water. He would say he felt the same, that he had always been crushed by the constant expectations of the people. He would hold her hand and promise that he would save her, that the two of them could run away together, and she would agree. And together they would-

“The advisors weren’t wrong about you and your constant daydreaming,” Vyn chuckled as he flicked his forehead. Marius flinched, groaning out loud as he slapped his hand above his eyes. The Tutor turned the knob and held the door open. “Hurry now; we wouldn’t want to miss the performance, would we?”

Marius huffed and stepped in, shoving the Tutor along his way. Inside, Artem sat at Vyn’s desk, reading a few documents. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and his face wore a tired expression with the visible frown and disheveled hair.

It would be best not to piss off the Royal Justice.

“Artem,” Vyn called out. The grumpy man turned away from his papers and nodded at Vyn. When he noticed Marius, he heaved himself up to properly greet his king, but Marius quickly stopped him.

“Hey, sit down. I don’t need to hear any more honorifics than I should, and I would really hate hearing them from you.”

Artem sighed as he sat back down, pinching his nose bridge. “Sorry, I’m just completely exhausted right now. Work has been so swamped lately.”

Marius softened his eyes. “Is there anyway I can help you?”

The Royal Justice shook his head, “No. If you assisted me, word would spread that I am incompetent. There’s already enough rumors spreading around the castle.”

He had already known how brutally honest Artem was. Still, he could never get used to it. It ticked him off how Artem brushed him off like that; it felt insulting.

Before Marius could say any retort, Vyn placed a hand on his shoulder. “Artem, how about we all take a break?”

#tears of themis #Themis #marius von hagen #marius x reader #Themis royalty au #royalty au #royalty #angst #Themis angst #tears of Themis angst #marius angst #too many husbands help- #tot #marius x mc

[detectivereyes]

Ribs Like a Cage Full of Fire

Summary: A call at an ice rink leads to some painful consequences for TK

Written for the “broken ribs” square on my @badthingshappenbingo card, which was requested by @paramedicstrand 27 years ago and i finally wrote it <3

Beta and emotional support provided by @marjansmarwani

read on ao3

“You know, I practically grew up on the ice back in New York,” TK says, unable to hide the grin as they pull the ambulance up to the ice rink. Not to say he’s excited that someone hurt themselves on the ice, but he hadn’t found time to ice skate since moving to Austin so there was a part of him that looked forward to revisiting the ice.

“Wow, you’re from New York? You’ve never mentioned it before,” Nancy feigns sarcasm with a playful roll of her eyes. 

“Ha ha, we’ll just have to see who's most comfortable once we actually get out the ice,” TK quickly retorts as Tommy gives them both a warning look. They lapse into a comfortable silence as they work together to get all the necessary supplies before heading out onto the rink.

As soon as TK steps foot onto the ice, he begins to wobble before quickly regaining his balance. He glances over to Nancy, hoping she didn’t see that but her mischievous grin says otherwise.

“Thought you grew up on the ice?”

He gives her a tight smile. “Well, it has been a while… Also I think the ice in Texas is extra slippery.”

“Whatever you say, dude,” Nancy says with a small chuckle. 

Tommy, for her part, pushes past the two of them, walking across the ice with ease towards the patient. Through the crowd standing in a circle, TK can make out a young teenage boy carefully cradling his wrist against his chest.

Once they make their way over with only a few slips on both their parts, Nancy and TK busy themselves behind their Captain, getting all the supplies together as she addresses the patient.

“Hey there, my name’s Tommy. What’s yours?”

“Jimmy,” the young kid stutters out.

“Jimmy, can you tell me what happened?”

As Tommy tends to the patient, Nancy and TK prep the bandages and split. Stealing a side glance at the offending wrist, it does appear to be a compound fracture and TK winces in sympathy. He doesn’t wait for Tommy to ask before prepping an IV line in the hopes of providing some pain relief for Jimmy. 

They work in a comfortable silence as Tommy carefully wraps the boy's injured arm before Nancy hands her the splint. They then ease Jimmy up to a standing position.

“You good to wrap up here, Strand?” Tommy turns and asks TK. 

“Sure thing, Cap,” TK replies with a smile, watching as Tommy and Nancy carefully escort Jimmy toward the waiting ambulance.

He takes the time to pack up what’s left of their supplies before standing up, intending to follow them. 

Except when he goes to stand, he must do so too quickly because before he can even process what’s happening, he finds himself losing his balance and struggling to remain upright on the slippery ice. His surroundings seem to blur as he falls back down, face first onto the ice. The moment his body collides with the ice, TK swears he can hear the audible cracking of his ribs from the pressure. 

He winces as he pushes himself back into a seated position, ignoring the sharp protests coming from his chest and the cold ice shavings digging into his raw palms. 

He takes a few seconds to glance around and see if anyone noticed. Other than a few side glances from various skaters gliding around the rink, no one seems to be giving him much attention. And by this point, Tommy and Nancy are loading Jimmy into the ambulance, too far away to see what had happened.

All of which means he’s on his own. 

Left with no other option, he grabs his medical bag which had fallen with him onto the ice and forces himself to stand back up onto the ice, this time much more carefully. He slowly makes his way towards the opening on the side of the rink, using his arm to hold his chest tightly and relishing in the relief that it provides from the pain.

When he arrives at the back of the ambulance, he removes his arm supporting his chest and does his best to mask the pained expression. He must not do a great job though because Nancy gives him a questioning look.

“The ice is slippery,” he shrugs, giving his partner a reassuring smile. “I’m good though.”

The little voice in the back of his head is screaming that he should tell her or Tommy that he’s not actually good. That his chest feels like it’s on fire and each breath feels like knives stabbing him in the lungs.

But whether it’s out of pride or convenience's sake, he keeps his mouth shut and Nancy seems to accept his answer.

He shuts the doors on the back of the ambulance and slides into the driver's seat. If there had been any doubt that he was hurt, the seat belt digging into his rib cage and sending sharp pains radiating through the rest of his body confirmed it. 

He suppresses the groan that threatens to escape from his mouth and sends a silent prayer that his teammates in the back of the rig don’t notice anything amiss.

All he can do is drive and choke back the tears that well in the corners of his eyes at each minor bump in the road. 

The emergency room doors can’t appear in his line of sight soon enough. And fortunately he doesn’t have to do much as the hospital staff unload the stretcher, giving TK a few minutes to collect himself before he comes face to face with his partner and captain.

He takes a deep breath before pulling the keys out of the ignition and exiting the ambulance. Spotting Nancy on the side of the rig, he gives her a nod and hands her the keys. “It’s your lucky day, Gillian. You can drive back to the station.”

She raises her eyebrows curiously before shrugging. “I would question it, but I’m going to say yes before you change your mind.”

The ride back to the station passes by in a blur. He tries his best not to let on that anything is wrong and even with Nancy now sitting next to him, neither she nor Tommy seem to pick up on the pained grimaces or the fact that he’s much quieter than usual. 

Once they are parked, TK wastes no time exiting the ambulance and ducking up the stairs towards the locker room, avoiding the curious glances of other members of the 126. Locking himself in a bathroom stall, he carefully unbuttons his uniform shirt before sliding his soft grey undershirt over his head. The movement only further aggravates his ribs and he can’t help the hisses of pain that escape from his lips.

He takes a shaky breath before glancing down, his face scrunching up in a wince at the sight of his chest. Though the fall only happened less than an hour ago, the faint outline of various shades of purple and blue are already beginning to paint his rib cage. Tentatively, he ghosts his fingers along the bruising and inhales sharply at the pain the soft touch causes. 

At minimum, it’s very bad bruising. But more likely, he has a few fractured, possibly broken ribs. 

He debates going to Tommy and confessing what had happened. It’s unlikely he would be able to last the rest of his shift like this and his paramedic brain is screaming that he needs actual medical attention. 

But the urge to power through is too strong. Despite how loud the voice is telling that this is bad, the voice arguing back that maybe it isn’t that bad is louder. 

There’s no reason to cut his shift short for this and make a big deal out of it. In fact, glancing at his watch shows that there’s only an hour left. Not that he wants to jinx it, but it’s likely that they won’t even get called to another scene. Besides, coming clean would also lead to not just his paramedic team, but the entire station finding out that he got hurt. Again.

No, that won’t be necessary today. He will power through the rest of his shift, looking forward to the moment he gets home and can ice his ribs. 

He can do this. 

Getting his uniform back on is no easy task, with sliding his undershirt over his again hurting him even more than when he slid it off. He settles for just wearing the undershirt for now, grabbing his blue uniform shirt before exiting the stall. 

Re-entering the locker room, he hastily shoves the shirt in his locker, figuring he can hang it up later when it doesn’t feel like he’s about to pass out if he moves the wrong way. He takes a moment to breathe, suppressing the panic when he begins to notice how hard it is to take deep breaths.

“Hey, man. You good?”

TK’s head darts up, caught off guard by the entrance of Paul into the locker room, but he quickly catches himself and smiles. “Yeah, just a rough call earlier. How’s your shift been?”

Paul studies him carefully and TK knows he can sense the deflection and quick pivot in the conversation. But at this point Paul has known him long enough not to press, knowing that TK needs the space and will come to him if and when he needs to. 

“It's been a little Q-word around here, so not too bad. Looking forward to a few days off after this, though,” Paul smiles. 

“Yeah, I hear that.”

Paul looks like he’s about to say something else before he’s cut off by the alarms blasting through the house. TK lets out a sigh of relief when Paul looks away that it’s only fire being called to the scene, and not ambo. 

When Paul turns back to him, they share a look and Paul shrugs. “Duty calls,” he brushes past TK, giving him a light pat on the back as he exits the area. A gesture which normally wouldn’t be much, but today it makes him see stars. 

Fortunately, Paul is already out of sight as TK tries to regain his composure. He rests his back against the hard wood of the locker door and tries to stop the tears as he struggles to breathe through the pain, with each breath seeming like it filled up less and less of his lungs. His ribs continue to throb, sending aches throughout the rest of his body and he wonders how he’ll be able to make it through the next 45 or so minutes.

Fortunately, the rest of the shift does fly by and he’s able to take it easy. The rest of the station doesn’t return from the rescue they were called to until near the end of his shift, so he only has to avoid Tommy and Nancy. With the former holed up in her office doing incident reports and Nancy reading in the common area, he is able to find refuge in the bunk room trying to rest and hoping that the alarms don’t go off again while he counts down the minutes until end of shift. 

His prayers are answered once the second hand on his watch clicks past the hour and he’s officially off duty. 

It doesn’t take long for a text to come through from Carlos that he’s outside the station waiting to pick him up. TK smiles to himself at the thought that his boyfriend was probably also counting down until the end of TK’s shift and was itching to see him as soon as possible, hence why he showed up at the 126. It’s a gesture TK has grown used to in the nearly a year that they’ve been together. 

He forgoes changing out of his uniform, whether that’s because he’s anxious to see Carlos or he knows it would cause too much pain is unclear. Instead, he quietly slips out of the bunkroom and exits the station before anyone can spot him.

“Hey,” Carlos greets him with a warm smile while leaning against the side of his Camaro.

“Hey yourself.”

TK approaches Carlos, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips before Carlos pulls him into a hug. Though he tries not to blackout from the pain and to focus instead on inhaling the familiar scent of Carlos’ laundry detergent, he cannot hide the involuntary wince of as his body contracts out of pain. 

Carlos quickly pulls away, scanning him up and down. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” TK nervously laughs and gives him a thin smile. “It’s nothing.”

“TK,” Carlos gives him a pointed look and before TK can stop him, Carlos is pulling up his shirt. His eyes widen as he takes in the bruising which has only continued to grow in the time since TK had last checked.

“It looks worse than it is.”

Carlos scowls, clearly not believing him. “Did you get checked out?”

“No. Well, it happened near the end of my shift and I figured that if I could just wait it out…” he trails off, shifting uncomfortably. 

Carlos shakes his head before pulling TK’s shirt back down and grabbing his hand. He doesn’t say a word until they are back inside the truck bay, scanning the area until he locks eyes with Nancy exiting from the common area, on her way out of the station. 

“Nancy, do you mind hanging back a sec and taking a look at TK? He got hurt on shift but didn’t want to tell any of you.”

Nancy’s eyes dart between the two of them before she drops her bag and ushers TK over to the back of the ambulance. He wordlessly follows and eases himself down onto the back bench, grimacing in pain now that there’s no reason to hide it.

At Carlos’ nod, he slides his shirt over his head, revealing the full extent of his bruised chest to both Carlos and Nancy.

“What the fuck, Strand?” Nancy exclaims as her eyes go wide. “When did this happen?”

“Remember when I said the ice was slippery…”

Nancy curses again under her breath before turning to Carlos. “Can you go grab Captain Vega? If she hasn’t left yet, I think we’re going to be making one more trip to the hospital today.”

“That’s really not necessary. Carlos can just drive me there. Right, babe?”

Carlos looks between him and Nancy, seemingly unsure of what his place is in this moment. “I’m staying out of this one. But I do agree Tommy needs to know.”

He disappears up the stairs, leaving TK and Nancy in a moment of awkward silence. 

TK knows he should say something. Explain what had happened exactly and why he didn’t speak up before. Even though their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start, TK now considers her one of his closest friends. And it’s clear she feels the same about him, caring deeply that he’s injured. Especially after what had happened to Tim, he feels bad to be causing his partner this much stress. 

But he lacks the words to properly communicate that so they sit in silence and wait for Carlos to return with Tommy. They don’t have to wait long as the pair arrives a few moments later.

“So, you want to tell me what happened here, Strand?” Tommy asks, taking a seat next to TK to start her assessment. 

“The ice betrayed me,” he says, earning pointed looks from all three of his friends. He shakes his head before continuing, “I slipped on the ice after you and Nancy left. Might’ve cracked a few ribs.”

Tommy hums in agreement as she runs her fingers along his chest, earning a few painful hisses from TK. “Yeah, I’d have to agree with that assessment. Alright, up on the gurney you go.”

TK opens his mouth to argue but Tommy gives him a look usually only reserved for her daughters when they try to talk their way out of going to bed early. So he quickly closes his mouth and lets his shoulders sag. “Yes, Cap.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile and assists him in getting settled onto the gurney. It’s an unspoken agreement that Carlos is welcome to ride along, with him making himself comfortable on the bench next to TK. They lock eyes and Carlos grabs his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Nancy’s worried eyes also don’t leave TK. Tommy must notice because she quickly offers to drive, leaving the three of them in the back before anyone can say otherwise.

“I’m really sorry I scared you both,” TK says to Carlos and Nancy after a few beats of silence.

“I hate to say I’m used to it but,” Carlos lets out a light chuckle. “I’m always going to worry about you though. But, I am glad you’re okay today and I just wish you could get it out of your stubborn head that it’s okay to ask for help from your teammates. It’s kind of what they're trained to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” TK casts his gaze down unsurely before meeting Nancy’s eye. The other paramedic had yet to say a word and the apology was for her as much as it was for Carlos.

A small smile forms on her face. “Yeah, what he said. If you could at least try to go a few weeks without getting hurt next time, I would really appreciate it.”

“Okay, deal,” he extends his hand as far as he can without putting too much strain on his ribs for her to shake. Despite how much he tries, the motion does still provide a painful reminder of his injuries and he can’t hide the grimace that forms on his face. 

Nancy gives his hand a quick shake before placing his hand back at his side. “Easy there, dude.” 

He shoots her a quick smile before locking eyes with Carlos again, grateful to have two people who care about him by his side.

#badthingshappenbingo #911 lone star #broken ribs #bad things happen bingo #my fic #tuserpaige #pragmaticoptimist34 #reyeslonestartag #userbones #usersaaya #idk who to tag in fics anymore sorry #911lonestarfic

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Major Updates to My Weird Idea (that includes my Nightside OCs)

Go check my previous post on this - HERE

This is mainly an update for @schizoauthoress , @the--blackdahlia , @spacelizardtrashboys , @enigmaticandunstable and @piratewithvigor and I personally think @nattinngrst might like this.

I went on a trip to the beach yesterday with my parents and my older brother (who I bored and annoyed with this idea and you'll see some of his influence in this here post)

Anything written in italics is meant to be taken as a joke as you read through this wall of text, sending good vibes as always, hope y'all are doing well.

The show is set in Canadian, Texas (real place: Wikipedia). I'm thinking of this show starting in the mid-to-late 90s (1996/1997).

I've managed to do several things with that weird sitcom idea, so, where to start, how about with the three potential titles:

1 - Neighbourhood Watch

2 - First Call

3 - First Round (Which my brother likes)

Here are some options for bar names, starting with the Cop bar:

1 - The Donut Hole

2 - The Roasted Hog (which my big bro suggested)

3 - The Sherriff's Outpost

And the Biker Bar:

1 - The Handlebar Inn

2 - The Steel Horse Saloon

3 - The Rebel Room

Next on the list of updates: Cast additions, character roles and (Finally after 2 days) Names for Everyone!!

I'll start with the Cop Bar's owner & staff:

Rosalina Asturias 'Rosa' (Played by Billie Martinez) an employee of the local cop bar. Didn't grow up in the town, moved here for work.

Violet Croft (Played by Eli Herne) an employee. Grew up in town, never left, has the hots for one of the guys in the local police.

Sunshine Crawford 'Sunny' (Played by Holly Di Antonio) an employee. Grew up in town, left for college and came back.

Roscoe Power 'Ross' (Played by Jimmy Hart) the loudmouth who owns the bar, grew up in town, used to be a car salesman.

Olesya Pavlovsky 'Olivia' (Played by Penelope Voronin) an employee who grew up in town and has immigrant parents, goes by 'Olivia' because she would rather you don't f*** up her actual name.

Winona Vance (Played by Sam Griffin Silver) an employee who moved here from New York, for unknown reasons, and doesn't really understand the small town, everyone knows everyone lifestyle.

Lavender Whittemore (Played by Victoria Lucifarian) an employee who grew up in England but moved to live in America, settled in Canadian, Texas due to her love of westerns.

Next: The Local Police Squad:

Sergeant Valentine Gautier 'Val' (Played by Bret Hart) recently promoted before the series begins but still on patrol duty, watches over his younger brother.

Corporal Buck Morris 'Buckshot' (Played by Davey Boy Smith) the gun loving corporal of the squad and the only one to have both 'work' and 'home' guns.

Captain Napoleon Cooper 'Crazy Cooper' / 'Captain Crazy' (Played by Jim Neidhart) the police captain, recently reassigned to Canadian, Texas as there were rumours abut him which interfered with his work in his previous location.

Officer Duke Gautier (Played by Owen Hart) the young, recently recruited brother of Sgt Gautier, often put on patrol alone to ensure less arguments, but always checked on by his brother.

Next: The Biker Bar's Staff:

Ozzy Rains (Played by Charles Wright) A biker and member of the staff who grew up just outside of town but loves his fellow staff members like family.

Brock Martel (Played by Henry Godwin) a biker and member of the staff who grew up on a local ranch and loves beer, football and the current Mayor's down-to-Earth style.

Vincent Gore 'Vinnie' (Played by Kane) the owner's son and a known fire loving 'freak' often protected by his surrogate family, the bar staff, Vinnie knows no better than 'ooh, cool looking fire' and must be restrained or have his hands swatted away to stop him burning himself trying to touch campfires.

Raven Knight (Played by Kirby Roussimoff) the only female staff member, but also the girl who does all the tough jobs when needed, has a side business of making and selling artwork, such as portraits to locals, has designed some of the bar staff's tattoos.

Harlow Gore (Played by Paul Bearer) the owner of the bar and a loving father to his son, took Murphy (Undertaker) under his wing when they first met and also treats him, and the rest of staff, like family.

Hunter King (Played by Phineas Godwin) Brock's cousin and a member of staff, taught Raven how to shoot a shotgun and his father owns a local tattoo parlour.

Sequoia Reed (Played by Rikishi) an employee and Frankie's (Yokozuna) cousin, also a surrogate cousin to Raven, having been best friends since childhood. Reed loves his job and his staff family and will defend both at any cost.

Lupe Zapatero (Played by Savio Vega) an employee at the bar and possibly the shortest member of staff, towered over by the tallest staff members but is not any less of a fighter because of his size, a former mechanic who loves nothing more than taking things apart and putting them back together while listening to metal / rock.

Murphy Graves (Played By The Undertaker) Manager of the biker bar and an excellent member of staff, has an outlaw rules vibe, as in he would say to the police "Your jurisdiction ends when you walk in my bar." Very protective of the staff, and the owner.

Frankie Wolf (Played by Yokozuna) the most relaxed and laid-back of the staff, Frankie would prefer to be in the kitchen making potential 'Culinary Masterpieces' as he would call them. Sequoia and Raven's (surrogate) cousin, views his staff mates as family.

Next: The Local Band (Named: Exoskeleton Samurai)/College Students

Quinn Thorn (Played by Jeff Hardy) the bassist to Ros' (Lita) vocals / lead Guitar and older brother Garth's (Matt) Drums, a face paint enthusiast and an English major in college who never seems to find time to study, but always has time to date somehow.

Roz Jerome (Played by Lita) the vocals and lead guitar for the band and an art major who actually studies, dating Garth (Matt) and met Quinn through him. Roz also studies Spanish and French.

Garth Thorn (Played by Matt Hardy) Quinn's older brother and the band's drummer, a major in psychology and a horror movie lover, Roz' boyfriend and almost totally devoted to her, even at the cost of his college work.

Next: The Local Townsfolk of Note:

Mayor Robert Sweet (Played by Jim Duggan) rarely seen, but apparently a good man with good ideas, helps out in volunteer projects and absolutely loves the town. Trying his hardest and people know this, and they love him. (did I meme correctly?)

Rusty Jarvis (Played by Mick Foley) the local hippie who has never left town, somehow managing to know both everything and nothing at the same town. (Very Dude Love with hints of Cactus Jack and Mankind) Does know how to fight when he needs to.

Redd Wayne (Played by 'Sycho' Sid Vicious/Justice) the local baseball/softball star, helps out at the local school/college teaching sports and likes Raven's artwork, he watches her draw when he can, runs the local little league & minor league baseball/softball games.

Earl Black (Played by Steve Austin) the most often seen regular at the biker bar, absolutely loves both the bar and the town, a hardworking guy who has befriended the entire staff (including Harlow and Vinnie) of the biker bar.

Lex Aston (Played by The Rock) a local struggling actor, teaching an acting class to pay the bills and an absolute ladies man, and for that reason he goes to the cop bar, to try and pick up one of the bartenders who works there, often favouring Rosa as she will jokingly flirt back.

Finally (for this section): The Degenerates and Their Benefactors:

Reign Yates (Played by Billy Gunn) Leon's (Road Dogg) best friend, often the getaway driver for the group and a scout for locations, often getting all the info on a place before telling Matty (H.H.H) and Dell (HBK). Often leaves town with Leon to get the heat off them. (and make out in secret)

Zelda Hooper (Played by Chyna) the only female degenerate but possibly the toughest, has a rap sheet as big as her arms, not to be trusted when around the other degenerates as she is usually the actual brains of the operation.

Matty Battle (Played by Hunter Hearst Helmsley) the co-leader of the degenerates, often protected by Zelda or Mark (Kevin Nash). does most of the talking but has the piss taken of him for his looks often by either other degenerates or locals who don't care for the degenerates.

Romeo Colombera (Played by Mike Rotundo/I.R.S) the right hand man of the mysterious benefactor, and often the lawyer for the degenerates as well as a taskmaster for them, telling them what the boss wants done and by what date.

Mark Rake (Played by Kevin Nash/Diesel) the tallest degenerate with a rap sheet as long as his leg, a former bouncer at a now closed nightclub, alongside best friend (and possibly boyfriend) Galo (Scott Hall) and now a bodyguard (when needed) for Matty and Dell (HBK, also boyfriends).

Leon Rose (Played by Road Dogg) best friend of Reign and a scout for the group alongside him. Has found every possible way to piss off other townsfolk and often in the most fights because of it, always on the police's radar for one thing or another and constantly leaving town because of it.

Galo Villalobos (Played by Scott Hall/Razor Ramon) the only (supposedly) Latino degenerate, raised in Canadian, Texas but his parents are from Cuba, Galo is a former nightclub bouncer (alongside Mark) Galo is known (for his ability to give minus fucks) as the most relaxed member of the group.

Dell Pain (Played by Shawn Michaels/HBK) the co-leader alongside Matty, a known flirt with people regardless of gender or sexuality, just to piss them off on some occasions. Dell grew up in town, knowing it like the back of his hand.

Giles Rennell (Played by Ted DiBiase) the mysterious benefactor of the group, bailing them out if needed, he stumbled across the group after seeing a police bulletin and decided to use them to cause enough chaos to guarantee a chance in the next mayoral election.

Zac Noel (Played by X-Pac) the shortest and youngest degenerate, Zac is often treated as the child of the group, being taught how to get away with crimes and trick the police into just letting him go by clerical error and tomfoolery.

Next on my list of updates: Season 1's episode list, episode titles, episode synopses, some spoilers, and the revolving door idea a bit further explained.

Series running order:

Biker bar episode

Cops on Patrol episode

Band/College Students episode

Cop bar episode (yes these are different)

Degenerates episode

(last episode of each season/series only) town meeting/town get-together (E.X: town hall meetings, the town getting together for a sports game or barbeque or restaurant opening)

1x01: Insert Coin to Start: The pilot episode of the series sees the local biker bar of Canadian, Texas installing two, brand new, arcade machines. After leaving for the night, the team finds the bar broken into and both machines missing with no evidence or possible suspects to the robbery. The team finds the machines relatively undamaged in an alleyway nearby. By the end of the episode there's still no suspects. B plot includes an argument between father and son, Harlow and Vincent which ends when Murphy gets involved.

1x02: Hot Pursuit: Newly instated chief of police Chief Cooper [Neidhart] makes changes to the patrol teams before tasking them with looking for any persons involved with (1x01)'s robbery and break-in, leading to a high speed chase later in the episode. B plot includes the squad coming to grips with the new, and much crazier, police chief.

1x03: Making Noise: Local band Exoskeleton Samurai [Team Extreme] are writing new music late at night while Roz [Lita] tries to study for a class the following day but, during a moment of quiet, they hear a break in a couple of doors down and attempt to see who it is. The group get a glimpse of Zac Noel [X-Pac] and Mark Rake [Nash] but not a full glimpse. Now aware of the local degenerates, the band try and forget about it and focus on their own lives until their apartment gets broken into when they're not there.

1x04: Donuts & Beer: The new cop bar opens on the other side of town, serving mainly (both savoury and sweet) bagels and donuts as well as beer (on tap and bottled), the fact it's slightly more risqué gets (both good and bad) attention on the place. Winona Vance [Sam] gets in a fight with Zac Noel [X-Pac] as she's locking up. Winona [Sam] being put in the hospital with a broken arm makes the rest of [Cop Bar]'s staff double down on getting justice for the near break-in.

1x05: Dirty Work: The first episode from the degenerates perspective. The degenerates are just causing general problems for the town without reason because it's fun' but it's quickly losing their interest as the heat on them rises. The end of the episode has Matty Battle [Triple H] receiving a call from 'Mister R' [DiBiase] offering him a deal.

1x06: Blue & Black: A brawl breaks out at [Biker Bar] following whispers that the people who broke in are in the building. The bikers who work at the bar threaten to hurt anyone who works for the rival bar if they try and mess with business while in the biker bar.

1x07: Captain Crazy: A rumour that the current captain was moved location and promoted to smooth over allegations that he may not be fully sane, Officer Duke Gautier [Owen] is determined to find the truth while Sergeant Valentine Gautier [Bret] and Corporal Buck Morris [Davey Boy] are determined to keep the peace and catch the local degenerates.

1x08: Broken Strings: following an argument with an ex girlfriend Quinn Thorn [Jeff] finds his guitar smashed and has to work odd jobs to buy another one (starting a potential series c plot). Garth Thorn [Matt] ends up in a fight with Galo Villalobos [Hall] which ends when Roz Jerome [Lita] smashes a table leg over the back of Galo's [Scott's] head, knocking him out and giving him over to the police.

1x09: Badges & Bottle Tops: Captain Cooper [Neidhart] stops by [cop bar] to talk with owner Roscoe Power [Jimmy Hart]. Meanwhile the Gautier boys [Owen & Bret] interrogate Galo Villalobos [Scott Hall] about what the degenerates are doing and why, getting no information about the mysterious benefactor over than he pays them a lot of money depending on what they do.

1x10: Paid off: The mysterious benefactor 'Mister R' [DiBiase] pays Galo's [Scott's] bail, getting him free for a while but side-lining him too. The benefactor remains hidden in shadow but Matty & Dell [Triple H & HBK] have a meeting with him to discuss money and the next job.

1x11: Written in Ink: the tattooed bikers on the staff encourage regular customer Earl Black [Austin] to get a skull tattoo on his back and even take him with them to the tattoo parlour they frequent, finding it to be burned to the ground with a 'freaks get lost' sign planted in the wreckage. Murphy Graves [Undertaker] dismisses the rumours that the arsonist is the fire fascinated Vincent Gore [Kane] and even gives him an alibi when the cops come looking for answers, putting blame on someone in town who knows about Vinnie's [Kane's] love of fire, which is nearly every person in town.

1x12: Sergeant Heartbreaker: Sergeant Gautier [Bret] is accused of flirting with the staff at [Cop bar] leading to a paid two day leave to get heat off of him while he's ordered to remain at home. Officer Gautier [Owen] and Corporal Morris [Davey Boy] are put on patrol together, leading to a high speed chase of Reign Yates, Leon Rose & Zelda Hooper [Gunn, Road Dogg & Chyna] after witnessing a mugging, assault and graffiti from the trio, the cops eventually lose them down a back road on private Giles Rennell's [DiBiase's] land they would need a warrant for.

1x13: Failing Grade: Quinn's [Jeff's] lack of sleep leads to him getting a fail on an test forcing him to do the semester again. Enraged by this Quinn [Jeff] considers leaving the school but is encouraged to continue following Garth [Matt] ending up in hospital following [1x12]'s assault and mugging on Garth & Roz [Matt & Lita].

1x14: Microphones & Megaphones: [cop bar]'s owner Roscoe Power [Jimmy Hart] installs a stage for local acts in the bar, leading to Violet Croft [Eli] performing later that episode (the closing of the episode into the credits) and the night before the first performance the bar is covered in graffiti, leading to a massive clean up effort from the staff and local volunteers (like Mick Foley & The Rock).

1x15: Trench Warfare: Romeo Colombera [IRS] the benefactor's [DiBiase's] right hand man and go-to lawyer gives the degenerates an list of jobs, run the police chief out of town by the end of the year, run the bikers out of town, and ensure that 'Mister R' [DiBiase] the benefactor wins the next mayoral election.

1x16: Fuelling Up: after closing up [biker bar] Raven Knight [Kirby] narrowly avoids being burned by her motorbike exploding in a ball of fire. Her boss, Harlow Gore [Bearer] tells her to take the week off, leading to her coming into the bar and sitting at the back of the bar, sketching the regular customers and having a long conversation with local sports star Redd Wayne [Sid].

1x17: Brothers in Arms: Together: the Gautier brothers [Bret & Owen] are put on patrol together leading to the arrest of Zelda, Matty & Dell [Chyna, Triple H & HBK] before the trio are bailed out, the brothers interrogate Dell Pain [HBK] (leading to a very 'basic instinct'-esque scene with Shawn in assless chaps and boxer briefs) who gives them no information on their behaviour and why they are doing the things they've done.

1x18: Night Time Fun: the band attends a college party, unknowingly with Zac Noel [X-Pac] also in attendance, leading to the trio being high and drunk and the Thorn brothers [Matt & Jeff] end up in a fight, almost being thrown out of college entirely for their actions the next morning.

1x19: Head or Hart: Violet Croft [Eli] and (officer) Duke Gautier [Owen] meet properly for the first time on a blind date, leading to them walking through the streets of Canadian, Texas at night. The date is quickly ended after Duke [Owen] spots Leon Rose [Road Dogg] spray painting [cop bar] and gives chase after handing Violet [Eli] his number.

1x20: Grunt Work: The degenerates have a group meeting about how to sabotage the town meeting, leading to Rennell [DiBiase] coming out of the shadows to lead the degenerates in a coordinated attack on the town hall. Leading to the degenerates waiting until the town meeting to begin the next day.

1x21: Town Meeting: Mayor Robert Sweet [Duggan] conducts a town meeting, leading to everyone airing their grievances with the degenerates recent spree of activity. At the end of the meeting, paint bombs hidden above the townsfolk go off all at once, covering everyone in bright, almost neon, green paint.

#Kayleigh's weird idea #any thoughts?

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded: Chapter Six; Spring Watch.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie:

A hard man is good to find. [Mae West]

--

Jamie woke with a start, the alarm blaring in the background.

The dream had been intense and had left him panting, a sheen of sweat on his skin as he pushed the duvet aside and stood. As always it was light outside, the sunrise half blinding him as the blasts of orange and red permeated the old curtains. Washing the night from his skin, he plunged himself beneath the pounding rivulets of water coming from his power shower, his body temperature receding slightly as the morning wore on.

Fortunately Claire wouldn’t be awake yet and he could slip from the house almost unnoticed. He needed to get a good day of work done, and to forget the memory of his dream before he faced her again. The mere thought brought colour to his cheeks, the heat in his belly reminding him of how incredibly realistic it had been.

Delicate pink skin appeared without his permission and once more he could feel the remnants of it haunting him as he slid his wellies on and closed the door softly behind him. Working in a daze, he prepared his cows for milking, the heat of the morning fading slightly as the clouds rolled in. The animals barely paid him any mind, going about their own business as he fed, watered and tended to them.

She hadn’t snuck into his bed, as she had in his dreams, but she had infiltrated his thoughts and no matter how hard he tried, sporadic jolts of her came unbidden throughout the day as he worked.

She’s married, he told himself, although the argument felt pretty weak in his own mind. In the abstract she was, he could tell that she still thought herself that way despite starting her new life. Without knowing it, she often rubbed her wedding ring finger - though the ring had long since been removed. It was obvious she was struggling with the transition and who could blame her, it had only been a couple of weeks. She was still hesitating on her name whenever he spoke it out loud to her, the subtle twitch betraying her.

But she was beginning to thaw, the shocked reaction he received when he spoke to her growing less and less as time went on (which, secretly, made him smile).

The baby lambs were out in force as he pulled the sandwich from his rucksack - one Claire had made him the night before. He smiled to himself as he perched on the fence, watching his first time mums as they paraded their babies around the perimeter of the field. Food somehow tasted better when someone else had made it for him, the slight differences in style allowing him a great enough change in routine to be noticeable.

She, it seemed, had a penchant for adding multiple salad products on her ham sandwich. Whereas Jamie was always in a rush at 4am, trying to collect his thermos as well as various food items to keep him going for the day, usually he would just throw slices of meat on top of bread without much thought. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and *butter*, however, made all the difference. He even had potato salad on the side and a bag of what looked like homemade crisps.

Before Claire had arrived, John had given Jamie a very brief update as to her situation. Knowing a limited amount, he gauged that the difficulties she’d encountered recently hadn’t really set in yet and, instead, she was going through some sort of nesting, using her time at Lallybroch to cook and clean, ensuring that her mind is actively kept away from thinking about much at all.

His mind needed something similar as the image of her pottering about in his kitchen whilst he was away brought to the fore those visions that had him startled awake this morning before his alarm had even a chance to ring and he shook the picture of her bare skin from his thoughts, turning back to his task list.

The orphaned lambs were thriving now. Most had been ‘adopted’ by other nursing mothers but he still had two rogue ewes who were waiting for collection - Rupert, his nearest (mostly by proximity but also by friendship) neighbour had offered to take them for him but had yet been unable to drive over to collect them. In lieu of this, Jamie had been spending time hand feeding them every day though he worried each time he left them that he might return to something unmentionable.

Luckily, they’d survived another night in the small outhouse and he crawled in between them, the straw poking and prodding him as he settled with the warm milk bottle. The first, the largest of the two, squirmed in excitement, rushing to plonk herself by his side and suckle noisily at the teet.

“Easy now, lass, there’s enough for the both of you.” He soothed, watching as she butted the bottle, falling to her knees as she fed. Sheep were notoriously terrible pets, losing their fear of humans when in contact for too long and he had worried this close contact wouldn’t be good for the ewes, but watching the smaller of the pair sit helplessly in the corner made him think of Claire.

An idea came to him all of a sudden as he moved towards the lone female. He could, if he wanted, take the lamb home that evening and leave her in Claire’s care. Not only would it give the poor wee thing a greater chance, it might give her something else to turn her attention to in the day. There was a large chance he’d lose this one if he didn’t do something drastic.

-- --- --

An odd feeling settled in her stomach from the moment she woke up. Though she couldn’t put her finger on what the issue was, she felt a strange atmosphere hovering around her. Her skin prickled as she got out of the shower and she immediately felt as though there was something she should be remembering but couldn’t quite hold onto the memory.

She’d heard Jamie leave this morning, which was odd in itself. Usually she was fast asleep at dawn, not waking until much later when the house was quiet and she was alone. But she’d been woken this morning by some forgotten thought or dream that she couldn’t picture from the second she’d opened her eyes.

After barely speaking for two weeks, the weekend had been a welcome change.

Conversation had not been forced or odd, Jamie had allowed her time for quiet reflection and had seemed really quite pleased with her suggestions for the upcycling of his old furniture.

She felt useful, finally. A feeling she hadn’t had in some time.

Putting herself to work, she opted for cleaning downstairs for the best part of the morning. There was still a lot of dust residue from the sanding epic they’d had on Saturday, even spending most of Sunday dusting and hoovering hadn’t removed it all, so she pulled the dyson from under the stairs and tried to be as thorough as she could be.

Like cooking, she had never considered herself to be fluent in the art of housewifery. Before...when she had been able, her time had been dedicated to studying. There had been a cleaner for such tasks and, even afterwards, she hadn’t *needed* to be useful in that way. Here, though, there was nobody else to clean, do the dishes or cook and she found that losing herself to each task kept her mind (and body) active.

Sitting with the remnants of her crisps, she decided that was the dish she’d been most proud of since her introduction to the kitchen. She found herself thinking of Jamie and hoped that he was enjoying them too.

Their food deliveries now consisted of a greater variety of produce and she’d been able to add some colour to his lunch - which she had been making every evening and putting into the fridge for him to take when he left in the mornings.

She felt pleased as well as shocked at how easily she had moulded to fit her new life here.

Happy with her efforts, she turned her attention to the bookshelves in the back living room. There were titles dating back hundreds of years. Thick leather covers with yellowed pages sat proudly amongst the newer softback novels. She could tell which books had been read just by glancing at the spines, though there had been fingerprints in the thin layer of dust that had been there only hours before.

They were categorised, it seemed, by the surname of the author, carefully and methodically organised so that each time a new title had been purchased, it had been added in the right spot though there wasn’t room for many more.

His taste was eclectic, from non-fiction books on farming, agriculture, holistic medicines and horticulture to the classics (neatly bound with multiple editions ordered together, oldest first) including Jane Austin, Victor Hugo, Descartes, Melville and Hemingway. Jumbled in were some biographies but she’d assumed those belonged to either his parents or sister as none had been touched for some time.

Her fingers ran over the spines, stopping to hover over the drawing and painting books she’d first read when learning to doodle on the post-it notes in the first few weeks. She didn’t stop until she reached a relatively new title that she hadn’t noticed before. There was ruffling on the edge, a clear sign of frequent use, and some damage to the corners. Pulling it from the shelves, she settled into the comfy armchair, her cup of tea now cool enough to drink, and began to read.

It was modern, eloquently written with intricate plot weaving from the moment she turned the first page. The front cover clearly denoted that of a romance but there was intrigue and art as well as carefully homegrown characters. Before she’d had time to digest the prose, the front door opened and closed and she blinked. The clock on the desk ticked loudly and she noticed that hours had passed without her knowing.

Placing the book back on the shelf, she decided to leave it where it was for the time being and come back for it before bed. Though the visuals she’d imagined for herself stayed with her as she stretched and went in search of Jamie.

A loud noise caught her attention and she burst out laughing as she walked into the kitchen to find him wrestling with a small lamb.

“A new friend?” She said, her shock fading quickly.

“Ah; lass, I need ye!” His words were breathless, his cheeks a vibrant pink from the exertion of keeping the lamb from darting off and wrecking the joint. “I have a challenge for you, if you’re up for it!?”

#anonymous #;mod mbd #shielded #Jamie X Claire

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums: a fresh look at quite possibly the 80s’ most hated band, A Flock of Seagulls! Spoiler: their music is good, people in the 90s and 00s were just mean. If you want to find out more about how having the absolute best hair in the business ended up backfiring on these poor sods, look no further than my latest video. Or the transcript of it, which follows below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’m going to be diving into a discussion of quite possibly the most derided and lambasted music group of the 1980s: A Flock of Seagulls. With a strange name, a perhaps painfully stylish aesthetic, and equally trendy and of-the-moment music, that was, for a time, inescapable in popular culture, their legacy forms a perfect target for the ridicule all popular things must face in due time. But even moreso than that, I think A Flock of Seagulls have become not only a punchline in and of themselves, but also a summation of everything that was dreadful and excessive about the early 1980s, with its “Second British Invasion” of synthesiser-driven New Wave. I can think of no better example of this kind of abuse than a famous line from the 1999 comedy film, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. The film is largely a love letter to the 1960s and its Mod aesthetics, and the protagonist, a super-spy unfrozen from this era in time, dismisses the history and culture of the 1970s and 80s as nothing more than “a gas shortage, and A Flock of Seagulls.” But at the time of this writing, we’re about as far away from Austin Powers as the film was from the release of this album, the band’s 1982 debut LP, so I think it’s been long enough that we can start to re-evaluate A Flock of Seagulls’ rightful place in music history.

While this self-titled album was the group’s first long-player, their first release was the 1981 single “It’s Not Me Talking.” Notably, this track was actually produced by the legendary Bill Nelson, who also released it on their behalf via his personal label, Cocteau Records. Ever since discovering this for myself, I’ve found the connection between Nelson and A Flock of Seagulls fascinating, and also satisfying. Despite the gulf between their respective reputations, I do think their work has a lot in common, at the end of the day: swirling washes of synth disrupted by screaming guitars, not to mention that shared interest in Midcentury rock and roll aesthetics.

Music: “It’s Not Me Talking”

These two acts would, of course, go their separate ways shortly after, and they ended up in completely opposite camps, with Nelson becoming a cult favourite with little crossover success, and A Flock of Seagulls going on to create what is, undoubtedly, one of the most iconic songs of the entire decade.

Music: “I Ran”

What does one even say about a song like “I Ran”? Over the years, it’s certainly gotten somewhat overplayed, but I can’t really hold that against it. It’s just a damn good song. Both ethereally menacing as well as catchy and rather accessible, “I Ran” takes the atmosphere suggested by “It’s Not Me Talking” and kicks it into another gear, with a harder-hitting hook and the introduction of that highly distinctive and of-the-moment echoing guitar effect. Some will hear it as little more than evidence that the song is hopelessly dated, but I’ve never thought of it as anything other than satisfying to listen to. If you ask me, I figure all art that exists is essentially “a product of its time”--nobody ever said Michelangelo Buonarroti’s David was a lousy sculpture, just because you can easily tell it was made during the Italian Renaissance. At any rate, I’d encourage everyone reading to go back and listen to it again, trying to maintain a little neutrality. I’d recommend the album cut of it, which is significantly longer than the single version, and features a rich intro that sets the scene before that famous guitar ever makes an appearance, which I think really adds to the experience. By some reckonings, A Flock of Seagulls are sometimes considered a “one-hit wonder,” but while they certainly are remembered chiefly for “I Ran,” this album’s other singles were moderately successful as well.

Music: “Space Age Love Song”

“Space Age Love Song” is perhaps the band’s second best-remembered single, and takes their sound in a markedly different direction than that of “I Ran.” “I Ran” won popular acclaim by finding a new home for the guitar, in the midst of a sea of synth, and pushed A Flock of Seagulls into a similar space as acts like the Cars and Duran Duran, who had enough mainstream rock sensibilities to sneak a lot of synthesiser usage onto American rock radio...much as one might sneak spinach into tomato sauce when feeding picky children. But I think “Space Age Love Song” is much more palatable to listeners of pop, synth- or otherwise. It’s softer in texture, and really almost dreamy, capturing the hazy, buoyant feeling of limerence as well as any pop song ever has. I’m tempted to compare it to another synth-driven classic, whose influence towers over this period in electronic music: the great Giorgio Moroder’s “I Feel Love.” Much like “I Feel Love,” “Space Age Love Song” combines simple, almost banal love lyrics with an evocative electronic soundscape, painting a picture of an enchanting, high-tech future where human feelings like love have remained comfortably recognizable across centuries or millennia. A similar theme of futuristic love pervades the album’s second single, “Modern Love Is Automatic.”

Music: “Modern Love Is Automatic”

While “Space Age Love Song” uses simplistic lyricism to portray the relatable universality of falling in love, “Modern Love Is Automatic” gives us the album’s most complex narrative. In a world where “young love’s forbidden,” we meet a pair of star-crossed lovers prevented from being together by some sort of dystopian authority. The male member of this union, introduced as the “cosmic man,” is apparently imprisoned for the crime of loving, but the text suggests that he may escape from this prison--or, perhaps, even be freed from it. The title, repeated quite frequently throughout the track, is perhaps the mantra of this anti-love society, a piece of propaganda being drilled into us as thoroughly as it is into these subjects: Modern love is automatic, with no need for messy, unpredictable human input.

It’s also worth noting that the song is consciously set in “old Japan,” deliberately locating it in the “exotic” East. While East Asia was strongly associated with refined, perhaps futuristic culture, I can’t help but think there’s a more pejorative sentiment operating here, rooted in stereotypes of Asian cultures unduly policing sexual freedom, and other forms of personal expression and self-determination. Ultimately, despite its futuristic trappings, “Modern Love Is Automatic” isn’t really a song about technology at all, but rather authoritarianism. “Telecommunication,” on the other hand, engages more directly with that theme.

Music: “Telecommunication”

“Telecommunication” was also released prior to the self-titled album proper, and was also produced by Bill Nelson. While structurally similar to “Modern Love Is Automatic,” with an oft-repeated title, brief verses, and a generally repetitive musical structure full of meandering guitar, its text quite plainly discusses the titular field of technology, in a seemingly non-judgmental fashion--though it could be argued that the fairly upbeat music suggests a positive outlook on things like radio and TV. The one hitch in all of it is the very end of the last verse, which sets the song in the “nuclear age”--a nod, perhaps, to the darker applications of 20th Century technology. “Telecommunication” is perhaps indebted less to figures like Moroder, and moreso to Kraftwerk, who first solidified the rich tradition of stoic synth thumpers about everyday machines like cars, trains, and, of course, nuclear energy. I’m also tempted to compare it to an earlier work of Bill Nelson’s group Be-Bop Deluxe, “Electrical Language,” another bubbly number that playfully bats this concept back and forth.

The theme of “quotidian technology” is also present on the cover of this album, which features an interior shot of a living room, centered around a television set. The TV displays a figure playing guitar--perhaps one of those heroic rock pioneers of the Midcentury like Buddy Holly, whom Nelson was so keen to imitate. But what’s most immediately striking about this cover is its beautiful colour palette, full of deep, saturated jewel tones, treated softly with an “airbrush” style effect. Despite being a somewhat mundane scene, the image also features fanciful, imaginative touches: the floor of this room is actually a miniature beach landscape, with the “floor” beneath the TV actually being the surface of the ocean, and the TV appears to be surrounded by a colourful, glowing group of birds. Given the beachy surroundings, we could perhaps interpret them as the titular seagulls. It’s tempting to think of this scene as a representation of how technology can sweep us away, out of our everyday existence and into something richer and more exciting.

But perhaps it’s not so simple--note also the open window in the top left, whose curtain appears to be agitated by some sort of motion in the air. Perhaps these birds are not the products of television fantasy, but rather have flown in from the window, and hence hail from the “real world?” Given how tracks like “Space Age Love Song” and “Modern Love Is Automatic” tackle the theme of the mundane meeting the fantastical, I think this complex and arresting image is a great fit for the album.

While their self-titled debut spawned multiple recognizable hits, A Flock of Seagulls never came anywhere close to recapturing its success. For the most part, they struggled to remain relevant as time wore on, largely abandoning the sonic footprint of their first album, and chasing after new trends in music technology such as digital synthesisers. They would eventually break up during the mid-1980s, and though they’ve reunited in order to perform live several times, the book is probably closed on A Flock of Seagulls. Personally, I can’t help but wonder what might have been if they had stuck to their musical roots a bit more. You get a bit of that on their third LP, 1984’s The Story of a Young Heart, which thankfully brings back that iconic echoing guitar, and does so without sounding too much like a simple retread of “I Ran.” Out of all their other work, it’s the album I would most recommend to admirers of this debut LP.

Music: “Remember David”

My favourite track on A Flock of Seagulls’ debut LP is “Messages”--not to be confused with the track of the same name by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark! Moreso than anything else on the album, “Messages” has this aggressive, insistent, driving quality, and feels less like yacht rock, and more like punk rock. Despite not being released as a single, I think it’s a very strong track that’s quite easy to get into. That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Messages”

#music #album review #album reviews #great albums #a flock of seagulls #flock of seagulls

[ocw-archive]

A Car Is Born - Men's Journal, April 2004

Owen Wilson is used to being in the spotlight, but in his new film, Starsky & Hutch, he takes a backseat to an even bigger star: a '76 Gran Torino that steals the show. by Alex Williams "I don't know if it's a sign of getting older, but I love Cadillacs," Owen Wilson is saying. "They're like driving around in your living room." It's a warm afternoon in Austin, Texas, and Hollywood's latest and least likely action hero is navigating his rented Cadillac DeVille down hilly Route 222 after a trip out to County Line Barbecue for some brisket tacos. "Yeah," he adds in that trademark drawl, a little Maliby tube rider, a little Dodge City card cheat, "that's definitely the direction I'm headed: away from Porsches, toward the cruisers."

But these days the only car anyone wants to hear about is that other car. The red car with the white stripe. You know the one. "That was Ben's car," Wilson moans with obvious envy. Ben, of course, being Ben Stiller, who plays Starsky to Wilson's Hutch in Starsky & Huch, this month's satiric big-screen remake of the '70s TV series. And the car, of course, is the 1976 Ford Gran Torino with the 360-cubic-inch big-block V-8, the FoMoCo Code 2B tomato-red paint job, and the Nide-esque snow-white swooshes slashing down both sides like daggers. "It was big," Wilson says, "a big powerful thing."

But playing Hutch, it turned out, had one major draw-back. "I actually never got to drive it," Wilson explains. In the movie Starsky is the sort of possesive guy who wouldn't dream of letting anyone else touch the car, and Stiller stayed in character even when the cameras weren't rolling. He never let Wilson get behind the wheel.

Okay, so tell us what it was like driving around in the passenger seat. "It was funny," Wilson recalls with a chuckle, "One day we were shooting over at Warner Hollywood, and after they finished the shot Ben just kept driving, right out of the lot, onto the street. We sort of toured the block, and we'r both acting like little kids: 'Oh my God, people are going to be freaking out when they see ua in this car.'" They didn't factor in the jaded audience in L.A., a own where two beach boys driving a cherry-red muscle car a re a dime a dozen. "We'd just pull up to a light and no one even looked.

Wilson is in Austin to work on a new film with his two brothers, Luke and Andrew. "It's weird to be back in Texas," he says. "I mean, in college I was a valet at the Four Seasons and now I'm staying there." A Dallas native, he hasn't been back to Texas's capital much since he wandered away from the University of Texas a decade ago, just a few credits shy of a diploma. Those aimless days seem like a distant memory. he has appeared in 14 feature films since he broke out in 1996 with the cult classic Bottle Rocket, which he made on a shoestring with his two brothers and his buddy Wes Anderson. And he's got fur movies slated to come out this year alone, including The Life Aquatic, costarring Bill Murray and Cate Blanchett, and directed by Anderson (with whom Wilson cowrote The Royal Tenenbaums, earning the duo an Oscar nomination for Best Screenpaly in 2001).

With a schedule like that, Wilson, now 35, doesn't really have many off days, although today qualifies as one. We're headed out to Barton Springs Pool, the three-acre natural spring "swimming hole" located in the middle of Ausin's Zilker Park. "I didn't really feel much Texas pride when I lived here," he says, "but I find that when I'm outside of Texas I'm, like, proud to be from here. Texas has weight behind it. It has a hold on people's imagination in a way other states don't." Still, Wilson doesn't go in for any classic Texas cowboy attire. "I'd love to wear a cowboy hat now," he says. "You know how people get on Prozac and all that stuff? It's impossible to be depressed wearing a cowboy hat."

Growing up he did make his share of authentic Lone Star gestures. Wilson was always a fierce Cowboys fan, and in high school he drove a truck - even if it was just a little Chevy S10 Blazer. But a small truck was better than no truck in certain situations. "People used to cruise Forest Lane, and cars were a place where sometimes you would hang out with your girlfriend. I don't want to get too much into that, but there were probably benefits to having a Blazer: a little more room to stretch out." And he did play sports. "I wasn't that good at baseball," he explains. "I was scared of those crazy Little League pitchers. One pitch is over the backstop, the next hits the dirt six feet in front of you. I played football in high school instead. I was a receiver. I was so-so." (Hence the famously off-center nose.)

At heart, Wilson - who played a surfer in the recent Elmore Leonard caper film The Big Bounce - was always more of a beach boy than a cowboy, despite his landlocked upbringing. "Even now, living in Santa Monica, my main thing is going to the ocean. I love swimming and bodysurfing."

His career brought him to California, nearer to the ocean, and it also allowed him to upgrade his wheels. His last car was a Nissan Maxima. His second. But recently he invested in a sleek black Porsche 911 Carrera 4S Coupe. "There are so many jerks that drive them," Wilson admits. "But I probably haven't been this excited about a material possession since I first got these Adidas velcro shoes when I was 12. I'd wake up in the morning and the first thing I'd do was look at my shoes. "That's kind of how it was when I first got the Porshe: parking it in the parking lot and walking away, then turning back around and taking another look."

Wilson steers the gunmetal gray Cadillac into the Barton Springs parking lot. Clad in navy blue board shorts, he quickly sets off for the grassy hillsides that surround what is essentially a gargantuan mud-bottomed swimming pool. The place is crowded, but he seems to be enjoying seeing some wholesome Lone Star girls for a change. "I was never that into these fake Barbie-doll blondes," he says dismissively. "Remember when Farrah Fawcett was so huge? I never even had that poster. I liked Victoria Principal." We reminisce about seeing TV's Pam Ewing in a Playboy pictorial back in the '70s. "Yeah, she had kind of big nipples," he remembers. Then he adds with genuine excitement, "Have you ever been to the Playboy Mansion? I love it. There's that part called the Grotto - just the name conjures up erotica."

A few minutes later Wilson kicks off his black Pumas and dives in. We swim for an hour. The guy never tires. Eventually we wind up treading water near the concrete ledge along the north edge of the pool. "Hey, think you can make it all the way acress, underwater?" he asks eagerly, jerking a glance toward the south edge. In a word, no. It's got to be 40 yards, across millions of gallons of bracing Hill Country Springwater. "I almost made it once before," he says. "C'mon."

Without another word, Wilson's legs slip silently beneath the surface. I watch his refracted image as he chugs away in a steady underwater breast stroke. Five yards. Ten. Twenty yards. Thirty. Finally a sopping blond head pops up at the far ledge. I can make out that oft-broken nose from here. Totally relaxed. No problem. C'mon, he waves, smiling eagerly, as if to say, 'It's easy'. The Other Cars in Owen Wilson's Life From Blazer to Porsche, the only resume that counts Chevy S10 Blazer His high school car. Not the big Blazer, the small one: "It was my dad's idea." Not that Dad was all wrong. Even the small one had additional room for extracurricular activities. Nissan Maxima "Not exactly what I would call a chick magnet. I was never really a fan of the Maxima, but then I ended up buying another one when I first got to Los Angeles!" Porsche 911 Carrera 4S Coupe The exact same model that his brother Luke bought. "It looked really obnoxious when we lived together, to have two black Porsches parked side by side out front."

#2004 #interview #photoshoot

[howtosingit]

Series Masterlist — 30 Days of Tarlos/30 Songs of Tarlos

30 Tarlos one-shots, all stand-alone. Originally published June 1-30, 2020.

Complete Series on AO3 | Music Playlist on Spotify

⭑

I Wanna Feel the Heat with Somebody - (Day 1) - 1.4K While out at a club, Carlos finds himself a dance partner.

Home for Me is Where You Are - (Day 2) - 2.4K AU. Carlos and TK are firefighters for the NYFD 252 and they’re best friends, but just when their relationship begins to transition into something deeper, TK discovers a secret about his father that threatens to destroy him completely.

Come Whatever, I'll Be Yours All Alone - (Day 3) - 2.1K Explicit. No one has ever touched TK the way that Carlos does.

Take It Off Now, Boy (I Wanna See Inside) - (Day 4) - 1.6K Since the day they met, TK has done everything he can to keep Carlos from seeing too much of himself, intent on keeping a distance; when he finally lets him in, it changes everything.

You Make Me Fall Apart (In a Good Way) - (Day 5) - 1.1K Being in love makes TK feel like a kid again.

I Don’t Have to Live Without You Anymore - (Day 6) - 1.9K Explicit. Eighteen months after leaving New York, TK starts to look towards the future again. 

I’ll Be There When You Get Lonely - (Day 7) - 1.8K Carlos doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly awake, not until he hears the sobs coming from the man next to him.

Those Summer Feelings: A Tarlos Lifeguard AU - (Days 8-14) - 7 Parts College-aged Tarlos with summer jobs at the local pool and all the heat, lust, and love that goes along with it!

After All This Time I’m Just as Nervous - (Day 15) - 2.1K AU. While attending his five-year class reunion, Carlos Reyes runs into his high school crush, and realizes that this might be his second chance to tell TK Strand how he feels.

Simple and Plain and Not Much to Ask from Somebody - (Day 16) - 3.2K TK has always wanted to matter to someone.

Maybe I’m Falling for You - (Day 17) - 1.8K High School/Coffee Shop AU. Carlos Reyes loves working after school at Bianca’s Bistro — it’s quiet, comfortable, and he’s good at his job. Or at least he was, until TK Strand started working there, too.

I’ll Love You With All That I Am - (Day 18) - 2.7K Explicit. TK spends every day making Carlos feel special, never more so than on his birthday.

If You Get Lost, You Can Always Be Found - (Day 19) - 1.6K TK and Carlos decide to add a new family member to their home. 

Choose The One That Means The Most - (Day 20) - 1.7K Owen prides himself on his close relationship with his son, but even he can’t figure out what’s been bothering TK all week.

Tomorrow and For All of My Life - (Day 21) - 3.3K Soulmates AU. Carlos has been dreaming about his soulmate for as long as he can remember, but that doesn’t mean he’s prepared for the day when he finally meets him.

A Pleasant Sense of Happiness - (Day 22) - 2.8K Camp Counselor AU. After a summer away, TK Strand returns to Camp Redwood to find himself paired with a good-looking bunkmate. Like, really good-looking.

Everything’s Gonna Be Alright - (Day 23) - 2.5K TK has a really bad day, and he doesn’t handle it very well.

Powerful with a Little Bit of Tender - (Day 24) - 3.7K Explicit. For Carlos Reyes, there’s nothing better than the way TK Strand makes him feel.

Come Back, I Need You to Hold Me - (Day 25) - 3.5K When Carlos is seriously injured on a call, TK feels like he’s lost his whole world. 

It’s A Million Things About You - (Day 26) - 2.3K In a quiet moment, when it’s just the two of them together, Carlos Reyes thinks about how special it is to be loved by TK Strand.

Come and Paint the World with Me - (Day 27) - 2.8K AU. When he and his dad move to Austin the summer before his senior year of high school, TK Strand finds himself dragged along to Austin Pride, where he meets the one and only Carlos Reyes.

I’ll Be Stronger in the End - (Day 28) - 2.0K TK and Carlos spend a day at Pride, surrounded by the love of their family.

Siempre me he soñado una vida contigo - (Day 29) - 2.5K In front of everyone that they know and love, TK and Carlos say “I do.”

This is Precious Love (I Can’t Get Enough) - (Day 30) - 2.0K If their wedding is anything to go by, TK knows that his marriage to Carlos will be filled with overwhelming love, happy tears, and unexpected surprises. 

⭑

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlos fanfic #911 lone star #30 days of tarlos #30 songs of tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #fic masterlist #I wrote a thing

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 7, Number 2

Bitchin’ Bajas

The whole country is snowed in and Texas is starting to look a lot like the Terrordome, and we can see how people might not be laser focused on music right now, especially if they’re cold or sick or out of food. But music continues to pour in, in great quantities and beguiling diversity, and a fair amount of it is very, very good. So, while we encourage you to take care of your brothers and sisters first (by donating to organizations like Austin Mutual Aid, Community Care — Mutual Aid Houston, Feed the People Dallas or the Austin Disaster Relief Network), we also present another collection of short, mostly positive reviews of new-ish records that have caught our attention. Writers this time around include Ray Garraty, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Justin Cober-Lake, Eric McDowell, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw, Tim Clarke and Mason Jones.  

Babyface Ray — Unfuckwitable (Wavy Gang)

On his new 7 song EP Unfuckwitable, thanks to his technical skills, Babyface Ray grinds through a great variety of trendy topics under a great variety of beats: from “not rap” rap to “bad bitch” rap to “we got it off the mud” rap. It’s all very professionally done, as you expect from a professional rapper, despite Ray’s claims that he’s not one. But midway through it, behind the misty fog of bouncy production and some lines catching the ear, you can clearly see at least two problems, with the EP and Babyface Ray. First, he doesn’t have anything to say (unlike some hip hop artists who ran out of things to say, he never had any in the first place). Second, he either doesn’t rhyme or goes for a lazy rhyming. The standout here is “Like Daisy Lane”, a catchy little song, with absolutely no substance behind it.

Ray Garraty

 Bananagun — The True Story of Bananagun (Full Time Hobby)

The True Story of Bananagun by Bananagun

Ooh look, it’s tropicalia from Australia! The five-piece Bananagun hails geographically from Melbourne, but metaphysically from 1960s Sao Paulo or swinging London. Their first album swaggers like a long-haired hipster in wide-flared hip huggers, fingers snapping, funk bass slapping, keyboards and flutes gamboling in hot melodic pursuit. Multiple band members got their start in similarly 1960s-aligned Frowning Clouds, so the psych garage freakbeat elements are, perhaps, to be expected. But Bananagun runs hotter, wilder and considerably less Anglo. “People Talk Too Much” rattles the foundations with scorching funk percussion, big flares of brass and a vintage Afro-beat call and response chorus. “Mushroom Bomb” likewise heats up psychedelic apocalyptica with seething syncopations of bass and drums. Most of these tracks are a bit overstuffed, with a pawn shop’s worth of instruments enlisted in happy, dippy, everyone-get-in-the-jam exuberance, but am I going to complain about too much joy? I am not. Bring on the Bananagun.

Jennifer Kelly 

 Andrew Barker / Jon Irabagon — Anemone (Radical Documents)

Anemone by Andrew Barker + Jon Irabagon Duo

Some names tell you exactly where you stand, and others raise questions. Take the name of this record, for example; did drummer Andrew Barker (Gold Sparkle Band, Little Huey Orchestra) and tenor saxophonist Jon Irabagon (Mostly Other People Do The Killing, I Don’t Hear Nothin’ But The Blues) have the aquatic or land-lubber variety in mind? To get specific, is this record a buttercup, or a bottom-dwelling, plant-lookalike life form that waits for other aquatic species to come close enough for it to lance them, paralyze them with venom and chow down on their still-living bodies?

“Learnings,” the first of the album’s four tracks, is true to its name, being a distillation of instrumental tones and free jazz attacks that might remind you of moments from various Coltrane and Pharoah records. It feels familiar, but invigorating. The title tune comes next, and it’s a slower, more laconic performance, attractive enough to be either the sea or land variety. Then comes “Book of Knots,” which suspends an intricate percussive construction over slow-bubbling pops and barks. The record closes with “Branded Contempt,” a juxtaposition of pathos-rich blowing and restless brushwork. One can listen most of the way through this record without guessing whether it owes allegiance to Poseidon or Persephone, but the coarse intensity of Irabagon’s playing in the last minutes is the tell; this record packs a sting.

Bill Meyer

BBsitters Club — BBsitters Club & Party (Hausu Mountain)

BBsitters Club & Party by BBsitters Club

Label Hausu Mountain specializes in weird experimental electronics. Its release of a rare rock record might raise a few eyebrows. BBsitters Club, with the label's founders making up half the quartet, pulls off a tricky feat in becoming an arch rock band. BBsitters Club & Party has enough old-fashioned blues and psych-based rock to suggest a group taking itself seriously. Naming the opening track “Crazy Horse” immediately calls attention to its meta status, even if the track sounds more like Pink Floyd than Neil Young's collaborators (and there's a touch of hair metal in there, too). No group with songs called “Joel,” “Joel Reprise,” and “Joel Reprise Reprise” can take itself too seriously, and that kind of playfulness runs throughout the disc. At the same time, BBsitters Club does take its musicianship seriously. They avoid conventional forms, working in complicated structures full of surprising twists. The group can get a little proggy, but then twist it toward an Allman Brothers-style jam. If it starts to settle into the Woodstock era (see the clear nods to Hendrix and Cream), it jumps to the 1980s with an unlikely easiness. The band goes wherever they feel like rocking, with everyone invited to the party.

Justin Cober-Lake 

 Bitchin Bajas — live ateliers claus (les albums claus)

Bitchin Bajas - live ateliers claus by Bitchin Bajas

If we can all agree the pandemic has dealt musicians some dizzying blows, that’s hardly to say they had it easy before. Squeezed between tech platforms and spurned by a hostile federal government (speaking for the US, anyway), even on tour they had to contend with iffy financials, physical neglect and — because why not say it louder for those in the back? — literal theft. So Cooper Crain, Rob Frye and Dan Quinlivan found themselves over 4,000 miles from home in May 2018, playing Brussels’s les ateliers claus on borrowed equipment after having their gear stolen (twice) on a European tour in support of Bajas Fresh. “Um, we’re, ah, Bitchin Bajas, from Chicago ... Illinois,” one of the trio says over the set’s first tentative tones. “And thanks ... for coming. This is gonna be great, I think. Or, we’ll see.”

Perhaps it’s not a question of either/or but both/and, the cosmic “we’ll see” of COVID-19 only amplifying how truly great it is to receive this music in the unimaginable future of three years later. As ever with the Bitchin Bajas, there is pleasure in the subtleties, whether that’s an excited concert-goer whooping as “Jammu” picks up momentum or the way each turn of the musical kaleidoscope seems to bring out new hues. That the recording doesn’t represent any dramatic departure from what we hear on the studio album or during other sets on other tours is part of its appeal and part of its power as a balm. We don’t need any more startling revelations right now. In this sense, the whole live ateliers claus series is a reminder that this venue and these artists — from Michael Chapman (vol. 1) up through Will Guthrie (vol. 12) — are still here today. If we can help repay what’s been stolen from them, they’ll be here tomorrow, too.

Eric McDowell  

 Loren Connors & Oren Ambarchi — Leone (Family Vineyard) 

Leone by Loren Connors & Oren Ambarchi

This is the first time that Loren Connors and Oren Ambarchi have collaborated, despite the myriad ties that bind the two guitarists across the global exploratory music scene. Leone offers a trio of pieces arranged like overlapping globs of paint on a painter’s palette: the two artists each perform solo with a collaborative piece in between. “Lorn” is a side-long Connors piece with the guitarist in an experimental mood, hammering the reverb-drenched strings to create a glorious cacophony. Ambarchi’s “Nor” recasts the guitar first as a church organ and then as a subaquatic communications device. When the two pair up for “Ronnel,” it is a symbiotic meeting. Connors picks out notes around which Ambarchi weaves contrails of tone. It is a mesmerizing piece, and, we hope, just the first of many joint efforts from these two.    

Bryon Hayes

Buck Curran — WFMU 'The Frow Show' Live Session (Feat. Jodi Pedrali) (Obsolete Recordings)

Buck Curran: WFMU 'The Frow Show' Live Session (Feat. Jodi Pedrali) by Obsolete Recordings

When we last caught up with Buck Curran, he was hunkered down at then ground zero for the COVID epidemic, socially isolating in Bergamo, Italy while recording the lovely acoustic-guitar-and-voice album, No Love Is Sorrow. Half a year later, still deep in the grip of a worldwide pandemic, he made this record, a duet with Italian keyboard player Jodi Pederali, revisiting one song from the previous album and adding three others. The tracks with Pederali fuse Curran’s electric blues with the bright, meditative melodies of Pederali’s piano. The two players interact and overlap in intoxicating dialogue. “Deep in the Lovin’ Arms of My Babe,” reprises the finger-picked folk of Curran’s earlier album, adding a glittering sprinkle of piano to its mournful, wistful melody. The set was recorded for Jess Jarnow’s show on WFMU and released on Bandcamp, and while not as long or as weighty as No Love Is Sorrow, it’s well worth hearing.

Jennifer Kelly  

 Jürg Frey — l’air, l’instant - deux pianos (Elsewhere)

l'air, l'instant - deux pianos by Jürg Frey

When you put two pianos together, there must surely be a temptation to see how much sound you can get out of them.  Swiss composer Jürg Frey does the opposite on the two compositions that make up this CD. Each is so sparse that an inattentive listener might think they are hearing one patient pianist, when in fact they are hearing a pair of deeply skilled interpreters.  The task assigned to Reinier van Houdt and Dante Boon is to place their notes in such precise relation to each other that they can influence each other’s pitches without interfering with them. Each musician is, as the title “toucher l’air (deux pianos)” (2019) suggests, inducing a slight disturbance in the atmosphere, lightly pressing transitory shapes into the silence that absorbs each note. “Entre les deux l’instant” (2017/2018) allows the two pianists to decide how closely they will match paces as they trade the roles of melodist and accentuator. Immune to gauche temptation, Frey seems drawn instead to see how much attention and how little sound it takes to accentuate the beauty of silence.

Bill Meyer

 Chris Garneau — The Kind (The Orchard)

THE KIND by Chris Garneau

Chris Garneau’s lush, stunning art-pop swoops and whirls and flutters in wild arcs of drama. In this fifth album, the New York City songwriter works in a restrained palette of guitar, piano, electronics and drums, but colors way outside the box with his vibrant, emotional-laden voice, which flies up into a falsetto register with an ease not heard since Jeff Buckley passed. “I know you loved me truly, but we don’t love one way, do we?” he croons on the gorgeous “Telephone,” lofting up into whistle range without losing the purity or the trueness of his tone. Cuts like the title song and “Now On” are prayerfully simple, just framing piano chords and Garneau’s highly charged delivery. But others like “Not the Child” are more intricately constructed with a lattice of picked strings, an antic syncopated beat and staccato vocal counterpoints that dance around the main line. The Kind’s songs are deeply personal and rooted in Garneau’s experiences as gay man, but they’ll resonate with anyone who’s ever loved or longed or regretted.

Jennifer Kelly

Gaunt Emperor — Femur (Self-released)

Femur by Gaunt Emperor

Some would-be emperors may no longer have clothes (looking at you, Trump), but Gaunt Emperor is unabashed about wearing its influences on its sleeve. Femur is the first LP by this California project, and Sunn 0))) and the first few records released by Earth are large presences, looming hugely just behind the sounds Gaunt Emperor generates. If you’re familiar with those other bands, you get the essential idea: deep (really deep) notes and long (really long) sustain from loud (really loud) guitars, and not much else. That said, Gaunt Emperor has an aesthetic vision that seems to be attempting to survey its own territory. While compositions like “Slow Submersion” and “The Birth of Obsidian” work from the playbook established by O’Malley and Anderson, the textures of Gaunt Emperor’s guitar tone have their own sort-of-subtle qualities. They’re pretty good. “Conception,” the second track on Femur, expresses a similar inclination towards melody that Earth began to demonstrate on The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s Skull (2008), but Gaunt Emperor retains an unrestrained relation to volume; you can feel the heat inexorably building in the overdriven amplifier stack. In any case, this is suitable music for pondering massive, ongoing phenomena, like the calving of icebergs off Antarctica’s coast or the steady disappearance of the Amazonian rainforest — not that Femur will make you feel any better about that stuff.

Jonathan Shaw

 Luka Kuplowsky — Stardust (Mama Bird)

Stardust by Luka Kuplowsky

Soft jazzy reveries coalesce around this Toronto songwriter’s offhand, semi-spoken melodies. Little accents of acoustic bass, slide guitar, hushed harmonies dart in and out of focus, but the songs themselves come up on you obliquely, filtering in from the vents in evocatively scented clouds. Rhythms sway in undulant, bossa nova syncopations, while chords slide into resolution from slightly off center. A half-remembered jazz flute lick lick lofts through the window. At the center of it all is Luka himself, posing, but not insisting on koan-like observations. “Perfection is a noose,” he confides amid the muted wreck and roll of massed jazz sounds in “City by the Window,” but he seems unbothered by it. Perfection is an accident, and if you look at it too hard, it disappears.

Jennifer Kelly

 José Lencastre / Hernâni Faustino / Vasco Furtado — Vento (Phonogram Unit)

Vento by José Lencastre / Hernâni Faustino / Vasco Furtado

Vento is the Portuguese word for wind, and the name conveys that combination of purposeful and chance operations that converged to make this record happen. The trio of alto saxophonist José Lencastre, double bassist Hernâni Faustino and drummer Vasco Furtado didn’t book a studio with the intent to record; they just wanted a place to play for a couple hours. But the engineers had just obtained some microphones and wanted to try out their new toys. Likewise, this improvisational trio did not bring an tunes to the session, but they play with a purposefulness born of shared aesthetic values. Whether are sailing a brisk clip, as on the title track, or gradually unwinding the music at low volume and velocity, as on “Ruínas,” they operate as a real time compositional cooperative, developing their music in linear fashion. While they share a direction, they also value contrast. For example, Lencastre’s breathy tone during the latter tune’s early moments balances Faustino’s pointed twang. Since remorseless microoganisms and anti-cultural politicians are each doing their best to keep live music down, records like this serve a necessary function in reminding us of the life force that motivates improvised music.

Bill Meyer

Lilys — A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns (Frontier)

A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns by Lilys

Kurt Heasley’s Lilys made some of the most ebullient and inventive guitar music of the 1990s. The best Lilys songs sound as though they’re flying apart and being put back together as they hurtle along, killer hooks tossed aside as quickly as they start to drag you in. Though they’re perhaps best known for their Kinks-indebted breakthrough Better Can’t Make Your Life Better, this was actually a sharp turn away from the dense shoegazey atmospherics of their first couple of records. Thus far, Frontier Records has reissued their first two albums, In the Presence of Nothing and Eccsame the Photon Band, both of which are superb. The A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns EP was originally released in 1994, a transitional period when Heasley was still exploring the textural joys of distorted guitars while starting to throw down pop hooks with aplomb. Opener “Ginger” hits similar pleasure centers as Weezer’s debut, released the same year, while on “Dandy,” Heasley’s vocal sounds uncannily like Stephen Malkmus. The previously unreleased “G. Cobalt Franklin” foregrounds searing guitar tones and bulbous bass, the bulk of the melodic layers sounding like they’re bleeding through from the next room, peppered with swirling flange and voice recordings. The second half of this expanded edition comprises songs originally demoed for Eccsame the Photon Band, and later released in 2000 on a split EP with Aspera Ad Astra. They’re decent enough, though feel like they’re missing the spark of the best Lilys creations. So, while this amounts to a far-from-essential Lilys release, it’s fascinating to hear Heasley in transition, working out how to reconcile his love for melody with his immersion in guitar noise.

Tim Clarke

 Fred Lonberg-Holm — Lisbon Solo (Notice)

Lisbon Solo by Fred Lonberg-Holm

As befits a guy who has also recorded a “solo” record in the company of a Florida swamp full of frogs, Fred Lonberg-Holm picks his recording locations strategically, and location has a lot to do with how this album turned out. It was done at an old and well-appointed studio in Lisbon, Portugal, where he could be sure that the microphones would catch every creak, groan and polyphonic wail he might draw out of his main instrument. But he also knew, from prior visits, that he would have access to some seriously over-the-hill pianos. While most of the album is devoted to savagely bowed attacks, the odd digressions into detuned, radiant chimes deliver just enough respite to keep you off balance and on the edge of your seat.

Bill Meyer 

 Dan Melchior — Odes (Cudighi Records)  

'Odes' by Dan Melchior

Dan Melchior is likely a recognizable name to Dusted readers; he has made quite a string of releases over the years. This cassette/digital release, recorded in 2016, is a subdued affair, nine songs for the most part following the same blueprint: a track of strummed or lightly picked acoustic guitar with a fuzzy electric lead layered on top. The foundational guitar tracks establish a calm, repetitive cycle, giving some of these songs an almost raga-like feel, in some cases through a hazy reverb: "Tybee" feels like you're sitting in the next room listening to him play through a closed door.  

Calling the overdubs "guitar leads" implies the wrong feel. While played through fuzz or distortion, the mood is a woozy one, more opiated than energetic, but in a drifting, pleasant way. There's an over-arching melancholy throughout these songs, one person alone playing to satisfy a need. Knowing Melchior was facing the recent loss of his wife Letha certainly colors it, but even a listener ignorant of that back-story would feel the emotional resonance.  

These nine ramshackle, loose instrumental pieces are personal, incomplete, and like having someone entrust you with private stories in song form.  

Mason Jones

Mint Field — Sentimiento Mundial (Felte)

Sentimiento Mundial by Mint Field

Mint Field, from Mexico City, filters the feedback and noise of shoegaze guitars through a pensive screen, finding an aura of nostalgia in between and among blinding walls of scree. Estrella del Sol Sánchez contributes two of the band’s signature sounds, the dreamy, delicate vocals and the swirling masses of altered guitar. She is supported by Sebastian Neyra on bass and Callum Brown on drums. The volume level varies song to song, but it’s all mesmerizing and good. “Delicadeza” breezes in on the tenderest sort of sigh, the softest, most lyrical strummed accompaniment, but “Contingencia” digs in and pounds, drums cranking, bass thudding and guitars winging out in wild arabesques of distorted sound. The easiest comparison might be the similarly hauntingly voiced Lush, but there’s something special here in the soft, keening soprano calm at the center of even the most agitated cuts.  

Jennifer Kelly

 Roy Montgomery — Island of Lost Souls (Grapefruit)

Roy Montgomery 40th Anniversary 2021 LP Series by Roy Montgomery

In 2021, guitarist Roy Montgomery celebrates 40 years of music-making with the release of four new LPs, beginning with Island of Lost Souls. Though 2018’s fantastic Suffuse included vocals from artists such as Haley Fohr (Circuit Des Yeux), Julianna Barwick and Liz Harris (Grouper), Island of Lost Souls is entirely instrumental, comprising four pieces, each dedicated to a late artist (actor Sam Shepard, and musicians Adrian Borland, Peter Principle and Florian Fricke). Though wordless, Montgomery’s guitar speaks volumes, flickering and flowing with the liquid grace of a player intimately familiar with both his fretboard and the effects pedals at his feet, sending waves of tone cascading with delay and reverb. Plus, on the side-long, climactic “The Electric Children of Hildegard von Bingen,” Montgomery pitch-shifts his guitar so it really ascends to the heavens, where it takes up residence for 22 minutes. Fans of Windy & Carl, Flying Saucer Attack and The Durutti Column, take note.

Tim Clarke

 Jon Mueller — Family Secret (American Dreams)

Family Secret by Jon Mueller

A family secret is usually a multigenerational skeleton in the closet that is either sorrowful or sinister. For percussionist and Volcano Choir member Jon Mueller, it is the former: a series of familial rifts that became the unlikely muse for this collection of reverberating drones. Mueller employs instruments that produce multiple resonant tones, such as singing bowls and gongs, to create rich pools of complex sound. Metallic hues brighten subterranean rumblings while enigmatic dapples of condensed steam coalesce into liquid shapes. The drummer conjures ghastly creatures through extending the vocabulary of his drum kit. Cymbal scrapes become banshee wails and scoured skins emanate uncanny whispers. With Family Secret, Mueller manifests his personal demons as phantom signals. He transmogrifies emotional strife into physical actions which then become ethereal. Ironically, the resulting sounds are actually soothing. Pain has never sounded so sweet.  

Bryon Hayes 

 Primitive Motion — Descendants of Air (Kindling)

Primitive Motion is the Brisbane-based duo of Sandra Selig and Leighton Craig, and Descendants of Air is their seventh album, previously only available as a CD given away at live shows. You can immediately imagine what the album sounds like based on the artist name and album title alone: rustic yet cosmic, full of space and open to spontaneity. Recorded on the banks of the Enoggera Reservoir, these eight meandering pieces prominently feature the sounds of wind and leaves, plus the calls of raucous Australian birds, while Selig and Craig insinuate suggestions of melodies and chords on nylon-string guitar, woodwinds, and battery-powered keyboards, and gently massage the air with percussive patters. Though part of the appeal of the recording is its deliberate vagueness, the most affecting piece, and the shortest, is “True Orbit,” where a strident theme built around melodica, keyboard and voice seems to emerge fully formed from the aether.

Tim Clarke

 Socioclast — S/T (Carbonized Records)

Socioclast by Socioclast

In heavy music’s current moment of endless genre-hopping and hybridization, it’s nice to hear a record that understands exactly what it wants to be. Socioclast is a grindcore record. Like Assück’s grindcore’s records. A lot like Assück’s grindcore records. You get all the high-velocity chugging crunch and guttural grunting — vocals so deep in the gullet that it’s pretty hard to pick up any lyrics. The song titles, however, suggest the ideological dispositions you might expect: “Surveillance, Normalization, Examination,” “Specter Signal,” “Psychodrone,” “Propaganda Algorithm.” There can be a fine line between paying tribute and being derivative, but Socioclast creates an homage rather than an outright imitation. This is 21st-century music. It sounds a lot clearer and slicker than anything Assück or the early Slap A Ham bands committed to vinyl. Like Slap A Ham, Socioclast is a California-based musical phenomenon, featuring dudes who have played in bands like Deadpressure and Mortuous; Colin Tarvin’s death-metal grooves are especially prominent on some of the record’s best tracks, including “Eden’s Tongue” and “Omega.” But this is assertively a grindcore record. Given that version of traditionalism (and yes, events have come to such a pass that grindcore has a tradition), it turns out that Socioclast isn’t all that socioclastic. So goes the strangeness of semantics. But the music is good.

Jonathan Shaw

 Space Quartet — Under the Sun (Noise Precision Library)

Under the Sun by Space Quartet

Space is a persistent and multi-faceted theme in the music of the Portuguese electronic musician, Rafael Toral. And while his name is not appended to the Space Quartet’s, make no mistake, this is his band, playing his music. But it is a music derived from ideas that can’t be realized without the right people. So, while Toral has delved repeatedly into the sounds that people imagine they might make and that they actually find in outer space, and he has explored empty and variously filled spaces as starting points for his music, the point of the Space Quartet is to find the right people, and give them enough space to realize a new kind of jazz. Under the Sun is the combo’s second recording, made with a substantially different line-up than the iteration that recorded the self-titled debut for Clean Feed Records. Toral has sacrificed the all-electronic front line and switched drummers, but in doing so he may have found the right crew to take him where he needs to go. Across the album’s two 21-minute-long tracks, there are usually several ongoing dialogues taking place between the players, which manifest intriguing degrees of mutual challenge and support. But the way that Toral’s elongated feedback lines and Nuno Torres’ stuttering alto saxophone phrases flow around Hugo Antunes’ stark, elastic double bass figures and percussionist Nuno Morão’s lightly deployed, carefully modulated streams of textures and beats that extends a lineage anchored in the language that Cecil Taylor’s trio first released into the air at the Café Montmartre back in 1962.

Bill Meyer 

 Stinkhole — Mold Encrusted Egg (Mangel Records)

MOLD ENCRUSTED EGG by STINKHOLE

The name sort of says it all, but to clarify anyways: Stinkhole languishes in a slimy musical ditch, bottoming out somewhere between the No Wave skronk of Mars and the transgressive caterwauling of Suckdog. As was the case with both of those acts, the dissonance and the gross-out antics can obscure some interesting ideas. Clawing your way through the dense layers of yuck (or, depending on how you’re wired, enjoying it) is integral to the challenge posed by the experience. All the gagging vocalizations, primitivist drumming and semi-tuned bass whomps on Mold Encrusted Egg occupy prominent positions on the surface of songs like “Orange Juice.” But listen to Mold Encrusted Egg a little more closely: there are some rabid grooves, feral guitar breaks and a lot of impenetrably weird environments of sampled sounds, tape manipulations and unidentifiable scree. Is it fun? Does it sound good? Fuck no. The band’s name is Stinkhole. They write songs with titles like “Slippin’ on Slug Slime” and “Emancipated by Hair.” They roll with the whacko punk and noise bands that have congregated around the Berlin-based Flennen digital music zine and its accompanying label. Dig the stink. Rock has rarely been so richly rotten.

Jonathan Shaw

 Styrofoam Winos — S-T (Sophomore Lounge)

STYROFOAM WINOS "S/T" by Styrofoam Winos

Stryofoam Winos brings together three old friends to swap songs in Nashville. You might recognize Lou Turner from her solo album, Songs for John Venn, a sly and subversion of the songwriter’s wholesome alt-country charm. Joe Kenkel is a kindred spirit, a folk rock singer with respect but not reverence for the certitudes of Southern life. Says Nashville Scene of his solo Dream Creator, “Kenkel, a sophisticated folk-rock songwriter, documents Music City’s idiosyncrasies on his debut LP, with acutely observant lyrics.”  And Trevor Nikrant completes this anonymous all-star line-up; his 2017 debut caught the ear of Aquarium Drunkard’s J. Steel who called it “Oddball baroque psychedelia broadcasted from a basement on the east side.” The three kicked things off with a lo-fi and charming debut, Winos at Home, in 2017, but this self-titled LP takes things up a notch with songs that balance craft with eccentricity. “Stuck in a Museum” jangles and rambles in an antic, neurotically intelligent way, as the narrator finds himself entrapped amid the exhibits, staring fixedly at a teapot from the Tang Dynasty. “Roy G. Biv” turns contemplative—and twangy—as Turner sings plaintively about rainbows and colors, the way things change and how hard it can be to keep up. “Maybe More” glints with mandolin, but remains pared back, as a down-trodden singer (one of the guys, not sure which) sings about a life stuck in neutral, same book, same coat, same jokes, but beautiful. The disc has the feel of a warm, casual gathering, with friends jumping in on harmonies or picking up the bass. The songs are sharp and lovely without a lot of fuss.

Jennifer Kelly

#dusted magazine #dust #babyface ray #ray garraty #bananagun #jennifer kelly #andrew barker #jon irabagon #bill meyer #bbsitters club #justin cober-lake #bitchin bajas #eric mcdowell #loren connors #oren ambarchi #byron hayes #buck curran #jürg frey #chris garneau #gaunt emperor #jonathan shaw #luka kuplowsky #José Lencastre #Hernâni Faustino #Vasco Furtado #lilys #tim clarke #fred lonberg-holm #dan melchior #mason jones

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 80

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

Her body is comforting; the warmth and the familiar weight of it laying atop his own.  The feel of her skin pressed against his and the light, yet always alluring scent that lingers in her hair. His fingers more through it now. Slowly and gently combing through the silky, dark tresses; still damp with sweat following an intense and attentive session of love making. It had been so easy to lose himself in the moment. The escape. The sensation of hands and mouths moving over each other’s bodies as they took turns both worshipping and devouring one another. The way her touch alternated between gentle and greedy as her fingers and palms explored every inch of his shoulders, chest, and arms; legs securely wrapped around his waist and her heels pressing into the small of his back. It had been slow and tender at moments; long, soft kisses that saw closed mouth moving upon closed mouth,  accompanied by whispers of love and praise. Other times it had been more frantic; a desperation behind aggressive, grabbing hands and tongues battling for dominance and much rougher, dirtier talk. Each minute...each SECOND...had been nothing short of perfection. The taste of her kiss and the digging and scraping of her nails against his skin. The noises that escaped from her mouth; the sound of his name,  both soft sighs and whimpers,  much louder begging and pleading and then her eventual release. His own had been powerful.  His entire body locking up and then shuddering; eyes closed and his forehead pressed against hers as her heels dug into his ass as he emptied himself inside of her. She’d clung to him afterwards; arms tightly wound around his neck while he buried his face in the side of hers.  And when he’d pulled back to look at her, there’d been tears in her eyes. There was no way to dismiss what he saw there; the fear and the worry and the anxiety. The realization that -whether it be through his demise or her own- it may very well be the last time they experience that kind of moment together.  He’d done what he could to squash those thoughts; softly kissing her and quietly professing his love and adoration; fingertips moving over every inch of her face as if committing it to memory.  

Now he lays on his back with her tightly pressed against him. That warm, supple body spread along his; breasts flattened against his chest, her eyes closed and her lips and the tip of her nose against one side of his jaw as her knuckles repeatedly grazed along the other.  The pain hasn’t subsided, but for the time being it isn’t as intense; the three glasses of whisky he’d ended up consuming, the intense orgasm,  and the heat radiating from her body  all working together to successfully take the edge off his suffering.  And he knows he should move; climb out of bed and get dressed and back to business. Despite Rata and Koen being there and heavily armed guards on high alert, she’s still his responsibility; promising nearly seven years ago to always protect her no matter how high the stakes or how extreme the costs. She and the baby growing inside of her are his sole priorities, and he has to keep them safe and get them through the next few days and then back home safe and sound. Even if it means sacrificing himself. Whether physically OR mentally.

“Boy or girl?”

Tyler’s eyes flicker open at the sound of her voice, finding her gazing up at him with her chin resting on his chest. “What?”

Her knuckles continue to  brush against his jaw. “Boy or girl? What do you want?”

“I want a healthy baby. And a healthy momma.”

“You say that every time.”

“It’s all that matters to me; that you and the baby are okay.”

“Humour me,” she says, and drags the nail of her index finger down his chin. “Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“You would do that to me. Stack the house with testosterone. Isn’t it sufficient that  you have enough testosterone for the entire male population of New South Wales? Do you really have to add more?”

“You’re going to say a  girl, aren’t you. So what? Stack the house with estrogen? Thanks.”

“Better than testosterone.”

“I don’t think so. And why would you do that to ME? Another girl?”

“Look buddy, it’s your sperm that decides this. So you really only have yourself to blame. Besides, would another little girl really be that painful? You’re an amazing girl dad; a total study in contradiction.   You’re big and strong and you have all those scars and tattoos and you’re so bad ass. Yet there you are, braiding hair and playing Barbies and attending tea parties and glitter stuck in your beard. And you never complain about any of it.”

“Why would I complain? She’s my little girl. Nothing I won’t do for her. Except wear the tiara.”

“She’ll break you yet. Or Addie will, when she’s old enough. Something tells me your little peanut will be able to convince you to do ANYTHING.”

“Well she is just like her mother and you’ve had me wrapped around your baby fingers since day one, so…”

“Do you remember when we found out that Millie was in fact going to be a girl? I thought you were going to have a coronary. You looked so scared.”

“I was scared. Me? Having a girl?”

“What? Did the sins of past transgressions with women come back to haunt you? Make you realize that there’d be guys like you  after your daughter when she’s older?”

“That was part of it. It just scared me. The thought of having a girl. I didn’t know anything about raising a girl.”

“You have asked the ultrasound tech three times if she was sure. You were so spooked. But  you got over it quick. The second she made her entrance into the world. The way you held her and she looked at you with those big blue eyes. You were a goner. You had your miracle baby.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, and pushes his hands through her hair, moving it off her shoulders. “She IS  a miracle. In a lot of ways. I never thought I’d get that chance again; didn’t think I was worthy of being a dad again. And when you think about how she was made and where? During all that fucking craziness? The fact that something could have happened to you and we never would have known we were having her? She’s definitely a miracle.”

“I remember how cute you were while I was pregnant,” Esme muses. “I mean, you’ve been cute and gentle and so sweet with all of them. But with Millie, you were extra...well, you were EXTRA.”

“I was a total newbie. I didn’t get to experience all of that with Austin. I was pretty much gone the entire time she was pregnant with him. And I was in Kuwait when he was born, so I didn’t even get to see that.”

“You were just so adorable. You were always touching my tummy and you’d always talk to her or read to her. And she’d always kick or squirm when she heard your voice. Not that I blame her; it’s a very nice voice.”

Grinning, he tucks her hair behind her ears and then cradles her face in his hands, kissing her softly.

“And you always had the goofiest grin on your face when people would ask about her.  That ‘hey, look what I did’ grin. You were so pleased with yourself. Like it was some great achievement; putting a baby in me.”

“At that time it was. Now all five of them are. Well, six. If we count little bean.”

“And you always made sure they gave us pictures at the ultrasound; you’d put every one of them on the fridge. I don’t think I’ve seen a prouder daddy-to-be. And you’ve been like that with every single one.”

“I am proud. I finally did something worthwhile with my life.  I finally have things I can brag about. Didn’t have anything to be proud of until Millie came along.”

“I don’t know about THAT. Surviving half a dozen tours in the Middle East is pretty impressive.”

“It was my job. I did what I was told to do. Or what I had to do to survive. Let’s not romanticize it.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she complains.  “You know how you always wish I could look at myself the way you do? Well I wish that you could see yourself the way I see you.  The way your kids see you. Because we think you’re pretty amazing and we love you. More than you could possibly know. Life would be miserable without you.”

“Well hopefully you guys won’t have to find out just HOW miserable.”

She frowns. “You said we wouldn’t talk about that. That we wouldn’t talk fatalistically. You promised me that. For one night.”

“You’re right. I did promise that. I’m sorry.”

She presses a kiss to his lips. “You’re forgiven. This is some serious deja vu, huh?”

“What is?”

“This. Us in bed like this. When you’re supposed to be working.”

“Well if it wasn’t for you and your uncanny ability at distracting me while I’m working…”

“I will not be blamed for your hormones. It’s not my fault you’re incessantly horny and insatiable.”

“It’s your fault for lying in bed with your pants half down,” he argues.

“You’re so unprofessional, Tyler,” she teases. “You should really be written up. You should not be getting your rocks off on company time.”

“Technically, it’s our company so we can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“That is a very good point. I think I’m going to love being in charge. Does that I mean I get to boss you around sometimes?”

“Like you don’t already?”

“I do not boss you around!” Esme objects. “You wouldn’t let me do that. Boss you around.”

“I think you’re underestimating the power you have. You’ve been bossing me around for about seven years now.”

“Well you must enjoy it. I notice you stick around.”

“It’s not that I enjoy it, it’s that I really enjoy other things so I tolerate the bossiness.”

“When have I bossed you around? Name a time.”

“Four months ago when you made me paint our bathroom purple.”

“I couldn’t do it myself! I was pregnant. And for the record, it’s not purple. It’s mauve.”

“Mauve is a shade of purple.”

“It’s not purple like Barney the Dinosaur or like an eggplant. It’s a very subdued shade.”

“Yeah, a shade of purple.”

“Okay, so that’s ONE time! One time I’ve bossed you around.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tyler chuckles. “It’s been more than one time. Way more than I like to admit, actually.”

“So the big, bad mercenary is whipped. Your secret is safe with me. You can’t be a hard ass all the time, right? You might as well come home and be my bitch.”

“Excuse you? Your bitch?”

“Listen, if I have to be a snack and meal bitch for five kids, you can suck it up and be my bitch once in a while. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“The things I won’t do for you.”

“You do a lot for me,” she smiles, and pecks his lips. “You always have. You always step up and take care of me; no matter how bad you’re feeling or how much pain you’re in or shitty circumstances are. You ALWAYS step up. For me, for the kids. You��re just always there when you need you, without even having to be asked. I appreciate it. And you.”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into him and presses his lips to her brow. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good man,” she says, as she once more places her head upon his chest. “And I’m very lucky. That  I even found you.”

“I don’t know; I think I’m the lucky one. If you hadn’t have taken the job with Nik, if you hadn’t been on the bridge that day…”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I wouldn’t have what I have now. I’d be dead. I wouldn’t have gotten a second chance or the opportunity to fix my shit. And I wouldn’t have this life; you, my kids. And when I think about them or you not existing…”

“But we do. Exist.”

“Yeah, because you took the job. You could have taken one look at me and saw what a mess I was and said ‘fuck it’ and turned it down. But you didn’t. And now look. Look where we are.”

She scowls. “Yeah, back in Dhaka.”

“That’s NOT what I meant.  I meant look where we are as in us. As a couple. We’ve come a hell of a long way since the first time we were here.”

“And since that little apartment in Sydney,” she muses.

“Seems like so long ago. Longer than seven years, that’s for sure.”

“We’ve been through a lot since then,” she reasons. “But I like where we’ve ended up.”

“Yeah,” he runs a hand over her hair and down her back, settling it at her tailbone. “So do I.”

Tyler  relaxes once more as she settles against him; his knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine, the fingers of his hand softly tracing random patterns on her shoulder and down her arm. It feels so good; being with her, The way her hair tickles his face and chest and how her warm, soft breath wafts against his skin. It’s the quiet, unassuming moments of intimacy that he sometimes enjoys the most. When they connect through something other than sex. There’s a bond between him that he can’t even begin  to explain. Something so powerful and seemingly unbreakable that began on that bridge seven years ago.

“What do you think you would have been?” Esme asks, once more breaking the silence.  “If you had never one into the military?”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“What did you want to be when you were  a kid?”

“Away from my father.”

“You must have had a dream. Something you wanted to do.”

“Well the unrealistic side of me wanted to be a professional surfer or football player. The realistic side of me always went back and forth between  a cop and a firefighter.”

“I could see you being either of those.  I mean, you’re big and strong. Athletic. And you have no damn fear.”

“Believe me, I have a lot of those. I just don’t tell you about them.”

“You would have made a really good policeman. In that uniform? All intimidating with your eyes and your take no shit attitude. You could have told me to assume the position and I would have obliged right away.”

He chuckles at that.

“A cop or fireman are both very fitting for you,” Esme concludes. “They’ve both got  that edge; high intensity at times. That danger. Definitely good jobs for you. Or a construction worker. I could see you in construction. In a pair of well worn jeans and no shirt and all sweaty and tanned.”  She sighs dreamily.

“Is that your fantasy?”

“Baby, you ARE my fantasy. I don’t need to imagine anything other than what I already have.”

“You’re really good for my self esteem, you know that?”

“How a man that looks like you has self esteem issues, I will never know. But you’re perfect the way you are. At least to me.”

“Even with all the scars?”

“They’re part of who you are. Where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through, what you’ve survived. I don’t like the stories behind most of them, but I love YOU. And they’re part of you, so…”

Smiling, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “What about you? What would you have done? If you’d stayed in college?”

“I would have probably changed my major. Maybe went into English Lit or something like that.”

“I was NOT expecting that.”

“You thought for sure I was going to say teacher or nurse, didn’t you.”

“Well you did mention teacher once. And you did a damn good job of nursing me back to health seven years ago. And your sponge baths are second to none.”

She giggles.  “You only think that because you got special treatment during your sponge baths.”

“You were very good to me. And so were your hands. Sometimes even your mouth.”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs. “I hope you know that if I had been a nurse, I would NOT have given that kind of treatment to all my patients.”

“Just tall Australian guys with muscles and blue eyes?”

“They would have to have an amazing ass and the stamina of a God, too.”

“And you say I put YOU on a pedestal.”

“You’re worthy of your pedestal. But yeah; I would have gone into English Lit. Or maybe psychology. But I did have one long standing dream when I was young. Sometimes I even still think about it.”

“Yeah? What’s the dream?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“You might think it’s funny.”

“Try me.”

“I’ve always wanted to own a bookstore.”

Tyler glances down at her.

“Weird, right?”

“No, it’s not weird. I’m just surprised. It’s the first I’ve heard about it in seven years.”

“I’ve never had a reason to talk about it. It was just a silly dream. Or at least it was until we got back to Australia and I got a look at all the little shops in town. They’re quaint and they’re cute and it’s such a nice, picturesque area.  It makes me think of my little bookstore whenever we’re there.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know; it’s silly. Tell me it’s silly.”

“I don’t think it’s silly at all. I think it’s a nice idea.”

“And not just any bookstore, either. Not one of those stuffy, uptight kinds. But where people can come in and relax; cozy chairs and tables to sit at and a place where they can buy baked goods and other treats and get something to drink. With a fireplace and an awesome kids section; bean bag chairs and aquariums with fish and turtles. And a sensory area for kids with special needs. It would be bright and cheerful; lots of windows and natural light. And a little garden out back where people sit and get fresh air if they want.”

“Wow…” he grins. “...you’ve really thought about it.”

“Just a dream. I had it all figured out when I was ten. I mean, I’ve added ideas through the years. I even made a floor plan when I was fourteen.”

“What did you call it?”

“It’s never had a name.  I could never come up with one.”

“How come you never did it?”

“A lot of things went to shit after my dad died and my mom got even MORE toxic. Life went in a different direction. And then I met Mark and…” she shrugs. “...well we know how THAT turned out. I brought it up once to him; he thought it was stupid.”

“HE was stupid.”

“Among other things. You don’t think it’s stupid?”

“No. I think it’s pretty cool, actually. And if you wanted to do it, we could make it happen.”

“It was just a dream.”

“Doesn’t HAVE to be just a dream. If it’s something you want to do…”

“Don’t enable me, Tyler. You’re supposed to be the one talking me out of these things.”

“No, I’m supposed to be the one encouraging you to do things.”

“Have you been listening to Barack Obama’s podcast again? Was he giving one of his talks about treating Michelle like the queen she is?”

“I don’t need him to encourage me to treat my wife like a queen. And if something you want to do...the bookstore…”

“I’m too busy raising five little kids right now;  in five or six months, there’s going to be a new baby in the house. And we already have a business, remember?”

“You could still have one of your own and help with the other one.”

“Baby, I love you so much for wanting this for me, but we both know now is not a good time. We’re having another baby; that’ll be six kids under seven. I won’t have time to do anything extra. And I’m happy the way things are right now. Maybe when they’re all in school and you’re gone a lot. It would give me something to do and I won’t be so lonely.”

“So ask you again in another few years,” he concludes.

“You’ll forget in a few years.”

“Esme,  I don’t forget anything when it comes to you. I still remember what you were wearing when you showed up at the shack, and that was almost seven years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. And I remember every bit of every conversation we had during those five days.”

Her lower lip and chin begin to wobble. “Don’t make me cry, Tyler James. I’ve cried enough today.”

“I remember how I promised I’d never make you cry. I fucked that up pretty good, didn’t I.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve made me smile and laugh more than you’ve made me cry.”

Smiling, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into a kiss; long and deep, her body sliding along his she reaches up to curl her arms around his neck. “I should get dressed,” he says, and rubs the tip of his nose against hers.

“No. You shouldn’t. In fact, it should be illegal for you to ever wear clothes.”

“Man, your hormones ARE going crazy.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that I find my husband amazingly sexy. That I can’t get enough of him. Maybe you should have been uglier if you didn’t want me objectifying you so much.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered with me if I was uglier.”

“That’s a fair point.”

“I really should get dressed.”

She pouts dramatically.

“I’m sorry. But I am working.”

“We’re in the same room. What is going to happen to me when you’re THIS close by?”

“I should at least have pants on if the shit hits the fan.”

“If you leave them off,  you’d defeat them with sheer humiliation. Or maybe seeing you naked would turn them on and they’d be so uncomfortable with it, they’d just leave.”

Smoothing her hair away from her face, he keeps it clasped in his hands and presses a kiss to her lips. “You’re weird.”

“Maybe. But you secretly enjoy my weirdness. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have hung in for seven years. You either like it, or you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe it’s a bit of both,” he teases.

“You definitely enjoy it. That’s why we have five ids. And one on the way. You enjoy it a little too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much. And as much as I want to stay here like this all night…” he pecks her lips and runs his palms along her arms. “...you need to get off me.”

“Fine.”  She gives another pout and then rolls off him and onto her side; elbow on the mattress and the side of her head in her palm. Watching him with a mix of admiration, appreciation, and lust as he slides out of bed and begins gathering up long discarded clothing.  “Baby, you are so sexy.”

Tyler grins. “And you call me biased?”

“It’s the truth,” she declares, then laughs when the shirt he tosses her way lands on top of her head. “Walking sex. That’s what you are. Which is another reason we have so many kids. That and you have very determined swimmers. Not even  birth control or a vasectomy could stop those suckers! And don’t you dare say it…” she slips the tee over her head. “...or I WILL throat punch you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I could take you. And you know it.”

“Mmm…hmmm…”  He clips the holster and gun to his hip, then stands at the side of the bed, hands gentle as they rest on the side of her face; tilting it up towards him. “I love you.”

“I know.” She presses her lips to his heavily calloused palm. “I’ve never once doubted it. And I love you, too. So much.”

He kisses her. So soft and so tender it brings tears to her eyes.

****

The text comes at ten in the morning as they lounge on the couch in the living room; half eaten plates of breakfast resting in their laps. It’s nothing more than numbers on the screen,  a simple yet effective message that opens the gateway to the path that leads home. And she hurriedly sets her plate on the coffee table and scrambles to gather a notebook and pen; uncapping the latter with her teeth as she clicks dials the number provided and then places the phone on her thigh and the call on speaker.

“You don’t know how to mind your own business,” a male voice scolds in way of greeting.

“And you don’t know how to play fair,” Esme retorts. “Taking the wife and kid of a man who died seven years ago? Threatening another woman and her children? That’s pretty low; even for bottom dwellers like you.”

“Mouthy. Typical western woman. Nothing that a good backhand wouldn’t fix. Perhaps we should teach your husband a thing or two; about how to control his woman and teach her how to respect men.”

“You can kick a dog to make it stay, but it stays out of fear, not respect. And I’m not speaking to a man right now; I’m speaking to a boy. A cowardly little boy. Because no man would  sink to what you have. A man...a  REAL man...wouldn’t idolize trash like Amir Asif.”

“You keep that name out of your mouth,” he growls. “You keep it out of your whore mouth.”

“You know what, fuck you buddy,” Tyler snaps. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that. You may talk to your girl like that, but don’t EVER talk to mine like that.”

The man on the other end of the line chuckles. “I should have known you’d be listening. Always the protector. How have you been enjoying the games? We made them up. Just for you.”

“How about you meet me in person and I show you a whole new game,” Tyler suggests. “That kind that ends with me putting you in the fucking ground.”

Esme reaches out and lays a comforting hand on the back of his neck, repeatedly squeezing.

“You object? To our games? You object to her being called a whore? Isn’t that what she was? When  you first met? Your whore?”

“I will fucking kill you. I will find you and rip you apart with my bare fucking hands. You hear me? I’ll…”

“Enough with the games,” Esme orders into the phone. “They’re not clever, they’re not cute.  They’re ridiculous and they’re boring and they scream of desperation. We don’t intimidate easily. If at all. So how about you knock this shit off and we get down to business. The people we’re working for are willing to meet your demands; twenty five million dollars for the woman and the boy. You can keep the mercenary; we don’t want him. He’s damaged goods now. And you can tell him I said that.”

“You don’t want your own man? Your own employee? That’s cold.”

“We know he’s in on it. We know he’s working for Mahajan. That you’re using him as bait. You really don’t think we’re stupid, do you? You’re not dealing with street thugs; we’ve been in this business for a long time. We’ve seen and heard it all. From bigger and better. We were able to get Ovi Mahajan out. And we killed Amir Asif in the end. So your threats and your games mean nothing. They’re not scary. They’re laughable.”

“You won’t be finding it very funny if we get to your children, will you. That won’t be so laughable, will it.”

“I will fucking kill you  and everyone you love,” Tyler fumes. “I will hunt every last one of your relatives down and make you watch while I put a bullet in each of their brains. And then I’ll fucking drown you in their blood. And that’s a promise.”

Another chuckle. “You act and talk so tough. But it only took one of us to bring you down last time. And you should have done everyone a favour and died on that bridge. In the end, you needed a woman to come to your rescue. To fight your battles. Now THAT’S pathetic.”

“Do you want the money or not?” Esme inquires. “Twenty five million. For the woman and the kid.”

“You know what we really want. WHO we want.”

“And I made it very clear that that is non negotiable. You won’t get that. You won’t get HIM.  That offer got left on the table and died there. Twenty five million dollars. Take it or leave it.”

“And if we agree to take it?”

“I want proof of life, and I want it today. Within the next few hours. And it has to be current; today’s date and time stamp.  You try and fuck me on this, and I will send a whole army to take you and your friends down. Because I have that power. I have the power and the money and the resources to do it. Do you really want to test me?”

“You’re not able to do that,” the man scoffs. “Bring us down.”

“Oh, I DO have that power. I can get it all done with one phone call. You really didn’t think we’d be in this alone, did you? That it would just be the two of us?  You have no idea the amount of people I have at my disposal. Or the weapons or the tech. I’m in charge here, not you. How do you know I haven’t traced this call and already have snipers with you  in their crosshairs? You have no idea what I can do. So fuck you and your games. You want the money or not?”

A heavy sigh. “Thirty.”

“No,” she refuses. “Twenty five. That was your original demand and that’s all you’re getting. Not a single goddamn cent more. I don’t take orders from you. I don’t take orders from ANYONE. And I especially don't take them from gutter rats. Twenty five. Take it or fuck off.”

“You want proof of life?”

“The deal won’t happen if I don’t get it. You’ll get nothing but a death sentence. I want a video. A live one.”

“You want to see them with your own two eyes?”

“That’s EXACTLY what I want.”

“You can have that. Under one condition..”

She snorts. “You don’t give me conditions, kiddo. That’s not how this works.”

“Do you want your friends alive or dead? It’s up to you. Do you want their blood on your hands?”

Tyler leans into her, lips pressed to her ear. “Ask what they want.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll play. Just this once. What’s your condition? Humour me.”

“You can have proof of life, but only in person.”

“Fuck no,” Tyler whispers harshly. “Tell him to go fuck himself. You’re not doing that.”

“Fine,” she ignores him, and her husband  glares at her and sighs in exasperation, then  springs up from the couch and rakes both hands through his hair before pacing the floor. “Tell me where to go. Give me the address.”

“Do you think WE’RE stupid? That we’d just give you the address and then you’d send your people there? You come here, to where we are, and we take you there. Blindfolded. So you can’t see where we are talking.”

“Tell them no,” Tyler orders. “Tell them no and to shove it up their ass.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she addresses the man on the phone. “That’s a setup. You want me there so you can grab me and hold me hostage because that will bait my husband. You really do underestimate me, don’t you.  I don’t go anywhere alone. If I agree, someone goes with me.”

“You bring him. Your husband.”

“Nope. It won’t be him. So you can grab BOTH of us? Or kill him on sight? I won’t play these games. I’ll come, but I’m not bringing him. Someone else, but NOT him.”

“Then he keeps his distance. If any of my people see him even remotely close by, we kill you. No hesitation. Understand?”

“Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Amir Asif’s house. You come here, we take you to see your friends.  Simple as that. I give you my word that no harm will come to you.”

“Your word means shit,” Tyler speaks up. “Tell us where they are. Or I will grab all of you one by one and find ways to make you talk. I’ve got all the time and the rage in the world, believe me.”

“We haven’t hurt her or your children yet, have we? But we COULD. I think we’ve shown that; no? With the baby? She really is the cutest little thing. Such an adorable smile. And your other daughter? So pretty. Blond hair and blue eyes. We could keep her for a few years; she’d make a good child bride.”

“You fucking asshole!” Tyler storms across the room and snatches the phone from Esme’s thigh; hands trembling as he takes the cell off speaker and presses it to his ear. “ I will fucking hunt you down...every last one of you...I will fucking torture you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. Then I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, stop, and then torture you all over again.  And maybe I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. If you’re lucky.”

“She has six hours; to make up her mind.   She hasn’t decided by then, we will kill all three of them. And then we’ll kill your children. One by one.”

“You fucking prick. How about you man up and you meet ME face to face. Or are you that much of a coward?”

“Six hours,” the other man insists, then disconnects the call.

“Motherfucker!” Tyler roars, and tosses the phone onto the couch; slamming into the cushions with enough force that the cell bounces violently and hits the floor.  The rage is intense; his entire body drawn tight and trembling, fists tightly clenched and jaw painfully set. And he can hear the rush of blood in his head; feels the throbbing of the surgically repaired vein in his neck.

“Okay...Tyler…” Esme’s on her feet, rushing to him and laying her hands on his chest; palms moving slowly and soothingly over the expanse of hard muscle and the fabric of his shirt. “...you need to calm down...you need to breathe...just breathe…”

“You heard what he said?”

“I heard. I heard every word.”

“That’s my daughter.”

“She’s my daughter too. I heard what he said. And it’s vile and it’s evil and it’s disturbing.  But he said it to get to you; to fuck with you. Break your brain, then break your body, right? Don’t let them do it. Don’t let them win.”

“That’s my little girl…” he speaks through ragged gulps of air, tears of both rage and fear streaming down his face. “..if they get to her….”

“It’s just words. That’s all it is. They won’t touch her. In the same way they didn’t touch Addie. They’re doing this to break you. And you can’t let them, okay? You can’t. I need you to calm down. Just to try to breathe, okay?”

“I can’t...I can’t breathe...I can’t…”

“You’re really close to having a panic attack and I won’t be able to get you out of it. Can you at least sit down, please?”

He nods, and she grabs a hold of the front of his shirt and yanks him towards the couch. Waiting until he drops down onto it to lay a hand on the back of his head; encouraging him to place it between his knees. “You need to breathe, Tyler. Just breathe.”

She leaves him momentarily, rushing for the box of meds in the kitchen; hastily dumping them onto the counter before selecting the bottle she wants. Then returns to the living room with several small, white pills cradled in her palm.

“Take them,” she gently orders, then places her hand over his lips. Forcing the pills into his mouth and then grabbing a now lukewarm mug of coffee from the table and using it as a chaser. “It’ll pass,” she confidently assures him. “Just try and relax.”

His eyes are closed  as he rests his forehead against her, and she drops a kiss on the top of his head; gently stroking his hair and his ears and the back of his neck. Feeling the way his body slowly begins to relax as the meds act quickly; a strong force combined with the comfort -and security- she effectively provides him with. And when the tension and the rage finally release, he begins to sob.  His entire body shaking, arms wrapped tightly around her slender waist.

“It will be over soon,” Esme promises, her voice quivering with emotion. “It’ll all be over soon.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #extraction 2020 #extraction fan fic #chris hemsworth character #best part of me

[beforethemoor]

It's odd writing about a band you've grown up with. In my early years of music geekdom, moving out of the Manic Street Preachers obsession was never going to be easy, but I always craved something a little more... current? No, I'm not sure current was the correct description; I just think that I resented the fact that This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours was, on the whole, a pile of toss.

Happily, I did the whole 'support the local scene' thing and caught late 90s/early 00s underground nearly-grunge 'heroes' Thirst at Southampton's dirty gem, the Joiners. That particular night, however, didn't end in eventual regret at attempts to get served, or even being stuck at the wrong end of Solent with no way of returning to Portsmouth. I left with a new band to love and collect, to stalk and savour.

Fast-forward nearly six years and we're both older and most-certainly wiser, we've both suffered periods of disillusionment, success, unhappiness and confusion, but we're both sitting here today with a renewed sense of positivity, ready to take on the world. Whilst my personal positivity and drive will affect few, the magnificent return of The Cooper Temple Clause has the potential to touch many.

"We had to reinvent the wheel," begins guitarist Dan Fisher, "spend more time on the songwriting. The experimentation comes naturally to us - it's the sort of band we are. More about getting the best from the tracks we'd written, than letting everything end in a wig-out. It's definitely more immediate."

For a band that has an array of effects and samplers to make the staff at your local Korg dealer cry with lust, the decision to let this album run off guitars and pianos may come as a surprise. "It's still eclectic," Fisher continues, "but there's a lot of connotations that come with labeling it as 'mature', but I'd have to say that yes, it probably is. It definitely reflects the past couple of years and everything we've been through to get this made. We're proud of this baby."

They've every right to be. Make This Your Own speaks for itself: the songs feel more like songs and have, for the first time in the band's career (with the exception of early song 'Sister Soul'), the power to affect you emotionally from the outset.

As we speak, drummer Jon Harper is next to me, cutting stencils for the spray-painted sleeves of new single 'Damage', being sold on the tour the band embark upon in a week's time.

"We're looking forward to it," says Harper. "We did a couple of shows in Switzerland, Austria and Italy. Switzerland is one of the most rock n' roll countries we've ever been to. Seriously. We tried some of the new stuff on those dates and it went down really well, which means we're looking forward to these UK dates even more. We've got a bit of a back-catalogue now, so we've got a nice diverse set to choose from."

He laughs: "It almost feels like we're a proper band!"

Following the departure of bassist Didz Hammond many speculated upon the implosion of the band, but it seems to have pumped a new life into the Coopers - there's a renewed sense of why they're doing what they're doing.

"We feel a tighter unit. Five people can gel better than six. That's not to say it's been easy though; everyone has had to raise their game, take on new challenges. Kieran [keyboardist] is now playing bass on a few tracks live as well. He's been sat behind a keyboard for five years, so as you can imagine, we've stepped up the instrument-swapping acrobatics as well."

Of course, to begin with, Didz leaving the band was far from expected. "It was gutting," says Fisher. "We didn't see it coming, but that's perhaps part of the problem. We were doing a lot writing and recording from the album, either in Reading or the Westcountry. It got really tough for Didz, with his family. To come to the studio was a six-hour round trip, whereas London was half-an-hour each way - that's another five hours to spend with your family. In our struggle to get the album done, we maybe weren't there for him as much as we should have been."

Fisher is keen to stress the amicable nature of the split, adding that they still talk and are friends: "The biggest thing was whether or not we got a new band member. We spent some time with Dan Austin [producer] playing bass in America. We wanted Dan to do it, but he's got a really exciting career as a producer ahead of him and we wouldn't want him to be taken away from that. It would have been strange to welcome someone else into the family. We wanted to give it a shot."

Regardless of your opinion on The Cooper Temple Clause, their resolve to complete their album, their renewed positivity and the widespread anticipation of the new album, despite their lengthy absence, has to be admired.

I'll nod to my past and smile fondly, but it's the future where things are always much more exciting...

#the cooper temple clause #dan fisher #jon harper #article