#I just loved the photo studio (which is a full street with shops and an alleyway) so I had to use it

[thefreelanceangel]

Every time she read a romance novel, she imagined what it would be like if her life followed that pattern instead of what'd actually happened.

[heyyyharry]

Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')

(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

Read part 1 here

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“What the fuck is this?”

Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.

He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”

“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”

Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.

It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.

“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Listen to the song.”

“Baby.”

“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not.”

“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”

“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.

“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.

Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.

Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.

Car rides down Malibu

Strawberry ice cream

One spoon for two…

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“Are we there yet?”

“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.

Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.

“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.

“Ahh, brain freeze!”

“But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.

Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.

Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.

“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.

“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”

“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.

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.

“They went to Miami last week.”

Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.

“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”

“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”

“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?

It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.

“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”

Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.

The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.

“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.

“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.

Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.

“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”

“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.

Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.

She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.

Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.

“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.

“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”

Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.

That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.

“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.

“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”

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Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.

They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.

Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.

His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.

He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.

At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.

“Hi. How are you?” he said.

Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.

But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”

“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For speaking out about it.”

“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”

They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.

“Look, Y/N, I—”

Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”

Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”

Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.

[jelenamasterpost]

2012

INDEX: purple font signifies importance, whether that be a specific date, quote, etc - I will later release a full index of all important dates and information combing each year of the Jelena timeline, but in the meantime, purple font signifies key information in their story to later come back to.

January 1st:

Selena celebrated NYE by Justin's side at his private party at the Glass House in NYC following his performance on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve:

"He...danced with Selena, showing off, picking her up and swinging her around like it was Dancing With the Stars," a source tells E!

*E! article here (x)

January 2nd:

Selena tweets (a now deleted) photo she posted to her instagram of Justin with a big smile captioned:

“This smile is because of Carly Rae Jepsen.. We have not stopped listening to your song girl!” in response to CRJ’s single “Call Me Maybe”

*tweet here (x)

January 3rd:

Selena was spotted getting gas and McDonalds on way to Justin’s house

*photos here (x)

January 4th:

Justin, Selena, Taylor Swift, JoJo and Francia attend The Laugh Factory in Los Angeles

*photos / article here (x) (x)

January 6th:

Justin and Selena are photographed in Los Cabos, Mexico

*photos here (x)

January 7th:

Photos of Justin and Selena in Los Cabos, Mexico

*photos here (x)

January 9th:

Justin adds photo of him and Selena in Los Cabos, Mexico to instagram captioned:

“2 much fun”

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Justin Bieber (@justinbieber)

January 10th:

Selena and Justin are photographed arriving at a restaurant together in Hollywood, California

*full article / photos here (x)

January 13th:

Selena and Justin are spotted by fans while walking with Baylor in Balboa Park, California

*full article / photos here (x)

January 14th:

Selena and Justin are spotted and photographed grocery shopping together with some family members in Encino, CA

*photos here (x)

January 15th:

Selena and Justin are photographed arriving at a friends house for Football Sunday

*full article / photos here (x)

January 16th:

Justin and Selena drive to Disney Land and were spotted walking on streets of Anaheim

*photos here (x)

January 17th:

Justin and Selena attend Disneyland together and are spotted kissing - they also run into Selena’s on-screen mom, actress Maria Canals Barrera, who tweeted a photo of herself with Selena and Justin writing “You never know who you’ll bump into at Disney Land.”

*full article / photos here (x) (x) (x)

January 22nd:

Selena continues her We Own The Night World Tour for the final South American leg of the tour this evening in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

The tour runs through January 22nd-February 11th

Fans spot both Selena and Justin in San Juan and take fan photos with the couple - Alfredo later confirms Justin was indeed in Puerto Rico but that they were flying back to LA the following day

Alfredo Flores:

"Went to dinner tonight in Puerto Rico. Justin ended up eating fish… I wanted him to try something Puerto Rican but he really wanted fish.. LOL what a waste of trying. Selena had a great show though and it was awesome seeing all the fans at the arena. I met so many of you and it was so much fun. Last day tomorrow and then we have to fly back to LA. Enjoying my last moments tomorrow. Te Amo."

*photos here (x) / Wikipedia tour dates (x)

February 2nd:

Selena covers the March issue of Cosmo and mentions Justin a few times in her interview

Talking about Justin:

“I’m just like every 19-year-old girl. If you’re in love, you’re in love to the fullest, and you just want to go to the movies, hang out, and be as normal as possible. I’m fortunate that I’ve found someone who has that philosophy … [Love] is the most powerful thing. When it comes to my family, friends, a relationship … it centers me. You only live once, and I want to be proud of everything that I do and just have fun. I want to be able to say that I had a really fulfilled, fun life.”

Talking about Nick, an ex:

“I was in a relationship previously where I had to hide everything and it wasn’t my choice. I had to go through different exits and take separate cars and do the craziest things, and it just really wasn’t worth it. It was like a year of my life completely wasted.”

February 11th:

Selena officially finishes her We Own The Night World Tour as she performs her final show of her South American leg in Montevideo, Uruguay

She also announced via her official Facebook that her and her band Selena Gomez & The Scene would be taking a prolonged hiatus as she will focusing primarily on acting this year:

This tour has been amazing, Thank you all for all the love and support you have shown me on this tour. Today is the last show but.... I will be back. Love you all.

Just to clear up my last instagram post, my band and I are going our separate ways for a while. This year is all about films and acting and I want my band to play music wherever with whoever. We will be back but, it will be a good while. I love them and I love you guys

*Facebook status here (x)

February 12th:

Justin is photographed picking up Selena from LaGuardia Airport in New York, who just finished her South American tour the night prior

They're later photographed together shopping in H&M and again that evening getting dinner at Thai Bistro in Manhattan posing for fan photos

*photos here (x) / here (x) / and here (x)

February 13th:

Justin and Selena are seen arriving at their New York City hotel on the eve of Valentines Day.

Justin gifted Selena a diamond ring for Valentines Day with the letter "J" on it - she uploaded a photo of her hand and the ring to Instagram with the caption:

"I'm finally home :)"

*E! article / photo of ring here (x)

February 14th:

Justin and Selena spend part of their Valentines Day at Disneyland with his whole family and were photographed carrying around his younger siblings.

*full article / photos here (x)

February 15th:

Justin and Selena are spotted at iHop and Chuck E Cheese in Encino, California

*photos here (x) / and here (x)

February 17th:

Justin and Selena were spotted/filmed while out shopping at The Beverly Centre

Justin and Selena later took to the Malibu oceanfront with his younger siblings and were photographed

*beach photos here (x) beverly centre here footage here (x)

February 18th:

Justin and Selena were photographed out as they took his younger siblings, Jaxon and Jazmyn, for a trip to Japanese spot Benihana in Los Angeles.

Stuart Montalvo, general manager of the restaurant, tells HollywoodLife.com:

“Justin and Selena were here this past Saturday with a group of people. They are really nice and polite. They come here quite often and usually order the same thing: Rocky’s Choice, which is Hibachi steak and chicken breast. Justin’s younger brother and sister were also with them. It was a family affair. Everyone was in a great mood and laughing and having fun. Justin and Selena were very affectionate. They were holding hands when they walked in and when they left. They looked like they are very fond of each other.”

Justin and Selena recruit their friend Ashley Tisdale and crew (including Ashley's boyfriend Martin Johnson from Boys Like Girls, Sammy Droke, Mateo Arias, Logan Henderson, Kendall Schmidt and Carlos Pena) to film themselves lip-synching and dancing to Carly Rae Jepsen’s Call Me Maybe in a home-made video

*photos earlier that day here (x)

February 19th:

Taylor Swift films "dance challenge" with Zac Efron on behalf of Ellen's dare at the premiere of The Lorax, and includes footage from the same day of the premiere dancing up on Justin in the studio and Selena at the event

*full article here (x) (x) *full video here (x)

February 22nd:

Justin and Selena went to UNDER THE GUN tattoo parlor in Hollywood to get Selena her first tattoo. Jordan Sandoval tweeted a picture of Selena and Louie, the tattoo artist who tattooed her.

(he is quoted saying its a heart, but its actually a music symbol and has been long speculated to actually be a disguised "J")

“She got a little heart tattoo at Under The Gun, in Hollywood by Louie Gomez @selenagomez.”

Carly Rae Jepsen and Justin hang out in the studio, upload a photo together and announce they've recorded a song via Twitter

Carly's Tweet:

I finally got to say thank you in person. Ps @/kukharrell @/justinbieber and I may have worked on a little song tonight.

Justin's Tweet:

my first impression of @/carlyraejepsen - kind, talented, and the real deal. this is going to be fun. welcome to the team.

*tattoo parlour photos here (x)

February 23rd:

Justin and Selena are photographed as they stop at The Commons at Calabasas in Calabasas, California - they later stopped for coffee at Starbucks and frozen yogurt at Menchie’s with their entourage, and Justin debuts his dyed brunette hair.

*full article / photos here (x)

February 25th:

Justin and Selena are photographed having lunch together at Sushi Den then again as they head into the Sherman Oaks Galleria to catch an afternoon movie together in Sherman Oaks, Calif.

Justin adds a photo of him and Selena to his Instagram

Later that evening while grabbing dinner they met Richard Reid in an elevator and stopped to pose for a photo with him that Richard ended up posting to his Twitter - after being flooded with questions from Justin fans, he began answering a few, revealing publicly via Twitter that there was boob grabbing (?)

*photos from earlier in the day here (x) Richard Reid photo here (x) Richard Reid tweet here (x)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Justin Bieber (@justinbieber)

February 26th:

Justin and Selena are photographed by fans renting movies at a Hollywood Blockbuster

Selena speaks to Access Hollywood about her new diamond studded ring in the shape of a "J" from Justin and whether or not its an engagement ring. When asked to show off the jewelry, she suddenly came down with a sudden case of stage fright:

“No, no — that’s like almost a friendship ring, it’s just for fun.”

“No! You’ll see it in pictures!”

“I get nervous.” she added with a laugh.

*blockbuster photos here (x) / AccessHollywood article here (x)

February 27th:

Selena officially begins filming Spring Breakers in St. Petersburg Florida alongside Vanessa Hudgens and Ashley Benson

February 29th:

Justin films his appearance for The Ellen DeGeneres Show (that airs the following day) to reveal that the first single from his upcoming album, Believe, was called Boyfriend and would be released March 26th - while filming, he's surprised and gifted an electric car from his manager Scooter Braun for his birthday

*full article here (x)

March 1st:

Selena adds photo to instgram for Justin’s birthday captioned:

Happy birthday to my best friend in the whole world!!! Have a great birthday baby!

March 2nd:

Selena is photographed leaving a medical clinic after getting bloodwork while still in St. Petersburg Florida

She's later seen arriving into LAX, having flown in for Justin's birthday party

Justin’s birthday party is this evening and Carly Rae Jepsen performs - Selena, their mutual agent Nick Styne, Jaden Smith, Ashley Tisdale, Ryan Good, Tori Kelly, Alfredo, Ashley Cook and Samantha Droke are also in attendance

*Medical Clinic article here (x) / DailyMail article here (x) / JustJared photos (x)

March 5th:

Its been reported that Justin is buying a $10.8million property in the Hollywood Hills to set up for himself and Selena

*DailyMail article here (x)

March 11th:

Justin flies down to Florida and takes Selena, Ashley Benson and her boyfriend Ryan Good, Justin's mom and his grandparents for a fishing trip excursion.

They are later spotted by fans at Gratzzi Italian Grille and Cracker Barrel before ending up back at their hotel.

Justin tweeted:

"great day fishing. time with grandpa doing the simple things in life. great day."

"Show the ones you love you love them. Take the time to make sure they know,"

*DailyMail article here (x) more photos here (x)

March 12th:

Justin visits Selena on the set of Spring Breakers

Later that evening, they meet up for dinner and drinks at a sports bar with Ashley Benson and Ryan Good in St. Petersburg Florida and have their first public fight - shortly after arriving Justin stormed out of the bar, followed by Selena chasing after him to their car.

“Justin’s security team drove the battling couple down the street to an alley where they had a ‘private conversation.’ After settling their dispute, they went back to the bar and continued boozing it up. By the time they left it was clear that the underage couple appeared to have had too much alcohol to drink.”

They were later photographed leaving the restaurant seeming to have made amends, but were reported to have been intoxicated.

*full article detailing fight here (x) *justin visiting set photos here (x)

March 13th:

Justin is photographed arriving back into LAX from Florida

March 15th:

Selena, Justin and her family are photographed leaving Cedars Sinai Medical Office Towers in Los Angeles California - Selena had a bandage around her arm where it looked like she had blood taken.

Upon getting in the car, Justin laid down in the seat so he wouldn't be seen by the camera.

*full article here (x)

March 16th:

Justin is photographed at Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre waiting outside in his vehicle and allegedly is there with Selena - she was also there the day before getting blood work

*full article / photos here (x)

March 26th:

Justin does a radio interview with Ryan Seacrest on KIIS-FM explained how he tries to stay busy while Selena is away filming her movie:

“I work all day, it keeps me occupied.”

March 30th:

Justin sits down with Complex and talks about Selena and growing up in the game:

Complex: Obviously, you and Selena are fodder for the gossip blogs everyday. How hard is it to keep your relationship private?

JB: It’s so hard, because everyone’s got a camera-phone, and now everyone wants to get their picture on the blogs. So they’ll send anything that they have to the blogs. So you don’t really get any privacy. If I want to go out to eat, if I’m in L.A., I just have to expect that there’s going to be someone there. That’s the only thing that I don’t like.

Complex: Is it tough for you guys? A lot of people like, hate it. Do you guys hate it, or is it like, “This comes with the territory, we’ve got to deal with it, it sucks?”

JB: I’m kind of both. I don’t like it, but I understand it. I’ll be covering my face or something, and the comment that pisses me off so much is, “Oh, get over it, Justin. You’re famous. People are going to take your picture. Just suck it up. You’re rich. You’re making a lot of money. Suck it up. This is one of the things that you have to do.” I’m like, “Yo I just got off an eight-hour flight. I’m tired. My eyes have bags under them. I’m not trying to take pictures.” I’m not going to come to your house, wake you up out of a deep sleep and start snapping your picture, no matter how you look right now. It doesn’t matter. When I get off a flight, I’m not trying to sit there and let them take pictures of me. I’m tired. I’m scratching my eyes. I just don’t like taking pictures in general.

Complex: There’s been high profile couples in history: Justin and Britney, Jay and Beyoncé. Jay and Beyoncé kind of kept it private. Everyone knew they were together, but they kept it quiet. Even with the kid, they kept it so under wraps. Do you learn anything from those relationships? And do you guys talk about that?

JB: Yeah. I mean, for me, it’s like, there’s no way to hide it completely, because then it would be unfair for us. Then, we’re not even able to have a relationship. It’s like, “You take this car, and I’ll take this car, and then we’ll meet up at the spot. Then, you go in this door, I’ll go in this door. We’ll end up crossing ways. You get back in this car. We’ll cross over, do a James Bond. You go through the kitchen. I’ll go through the back area. Then we’ll meet in the dressing room and see each other.” At that point, it’s like, it’s not even a relationship. You’re just hiding from everyone. That’s unfair and unhealthy, man.

*full Complex article here (x)

March 31st:

Justin and Selena both attend The Kids Choice Awards though walk the red carpet separately - Justin gets slimed during the ceremony and they both win awards

(note to self: Selena seems a bit high during interviews backstage)

April 4th:

Selena and Justin are photographed having a Subway picnic overlooking the city at Griffith Park in Los Angeles.

*full article / photos here (x)

April 5th:

Justin and Selena held hands as they headed to Panera Bread for lunch in Glendale, California

*DailyMail article / photos here (x)

April 6th:

Justin and Selena were photographed getting food at the Chick-fil-A drive-thru

*full article / photos here (x)

April 7th:

Justin and Selena were spotted by fans at a grocery store and posed for photos

*photos here (x)

April 9th:

Justin, Selena and Alfredo are spotted/photographed by fans while going to watch American Reunions in theatres

*photos here (x)

April 11th:

Seventeen Magazine releases their May issue with Justin on the cover and ask about Selena during his interview:

Seventeen: Everyone is so interested in your personal life, especially your relationship with Selena. A lot of your fans don’t approve…

Justin: Everyone has haters, so you always have to deal with the negativity and be positive about it. I don’t think it’s nice; I’d rather they be nice, but at the end of the day I don’t let it affect me.

Seventeen: You’ve planned some amazing dates for Selena - who taught you to be so romantic?

Justin: I’m just trying to make her happy, that’s all. I think it’s important to make all woman feel like they’re princesses because every girl is a princess, I’m serious.

Seventeen: Will.I.am said he thinks it’s important for people to experience heartbreak so they’ll have something to sing about. What do you think?

Justin: I haven’t gone through it so I don’t really know what it’s about. I don’t think anyone wants to have heartbreak. I haven’t been in that deep a place yet, but I’m still looking. I’m still learning every day.

Seventeen: Would you and Selena ever record music together?

Justin: Yeah. I love her music, so maybe we could collaborate.

*full article here (x)

April 12:

Justin, Selena and Alfredo are photographed snowboarding at Big Bear Ski Resort in Big Bear Lake, California

*photos here (x)

April 14th:

Justin and Selena go to Jupiter, Florida for the weekend to celebrate the wedding of one of Justin’s friends and check into The Inn at Admiral’s Cove

They later attend Allison Kaye's wedding

*full article here (x)

April 17th:

Justin and Selena attend Lakers game together after both separately appearing on DWTS and American Idol, and publicly share an intimate kiss when put on the spot via the events Kiss Cam

April 19th:

During an interview with The Insider to promote her new perfume line, Selena is put to the test to correctly guess Justin's perfume through a sniff-test:

"The Insider's Brooke Anderson lined up three unlabeled fragrances for Selena, which included Justin's Someday perfume, challenging her to pick out his scent from the trio.

"I'm such a bad girlfriend," Selena sheepishly muttered when she confused Someday for Paris.

Selena revealed that Justin is impressed with her concoction and went on to explain why his opinion carried so much weight when she was creating the scent for her perfume, not only as a fellow perfumer, but also as a guy, citing "romantic" reasons."

*full video here (x)

April 20th:

Selena debuts a new additional music video for Hit The Lights

Selena appears on On Air with Ryan Seacrest and opens up about her Kiss Cam at the Lakers game earlier this week, and Justin’s upcoming debut with Taylor Swift.

Asked about the Kiss Cam, Selena called it "the most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to me, probably."

“They were showing these little elderly couples, and it was so cute. Then all of a sudden we’re both looking up and we come on the screen and it’s like … it was so awkward. It was so weird. I mean you have to kiss, right?”

"They wrote a song together and it’s beautiful - it’s amazing - I don’t know if it will make the album, but if not I’m sure they’ll release it at some point, because it’s a really great record. It’s kind of like … it’s Taylor and Justin combined. So it’s a little bit of an upbeat song, but it’s very acoustic.”

*full video interview here (x) / *full RadarOnline article here (x)

April 21st:

Selena visits Justin on set for his music video “Boyfriend” and the two are photographed hugging/kissing/being affectionate

*full article / photos here (x)

April 27th:

UsWeekly releases a special edition of their magazine featuring Justin and exclusive photos/interviews titled Inside My World: Justin Bieber. He's questioned about Selena during his interview and mentions recently gifting her a diamond bracelet:

UsWeekly: At least you get quality time with Selena. What do you love about her?

Justin: I dunno! She just carries herself in a very elegant way. And my family loves her, which is usually hard because my mom’s really picky. My mom wants, you know, a good Christian girl with good manners.

UsWeekly: Do you understand girls better now?

Justin: Well, every girl is different, so they are hard to figure out. Like, the way most men work is the same. But each woman works differently. It’s like I can’t figure them out! But I do know girls like you to tell them you love them and that they’re all beautiful all the time. So I do that a lot with any girl I’m with. I tell them that as much as possible.

UsWeekly: Most romantic gift you’ve ever given?

Justin: I’m not saying to who- but I gave a girl an expensive diamond bracelet recently. It was so pretty, I knew she’d love it!

UsWeekly: Would you and Selena ever do a duet?Yeah. I think she’s very talented.

Justin: That would be very cool. We have nothing planned- but I’m not opposed to it!

*full interview here (x)

May 16th:

Justin featured in GQ magazine/interview:

"I keep my guard up a lot," the singer says in the latest issue of GQ.

"Because you know, you can’t trust anyone in this business. That’s what’s sad. You can’t trust anybody. I learned the hard way.”

May 18th:

The Hollywood Gossip reports that Justin and Selena may have broken up after Justin cryptically tweets/deletes:

“thank u for the time i had with you but i have to move on now..”

*full article here (x)

May 20th:

Justin attends Billboard Music Awards solo in Las Vegas

May 20th:

Justin sits down with Sunday Times for an interview and reveals when news of his “love child” with Mariah Yeater broke, Selena called him right away. Justin also revealed that he wrote a song dedicated to Selena titled 'Be Alright.'

“She was like, ‘Do you see what they’re saying on the internet?’ I was like ‘Yeah.’ She was, like, ‘So…’ I was, like ‘No, it’s not true’. ‘Okay, thank you, bye!’ That was it, she trusts me."

“I’m going to call my girlfriend.” So he does, reaching Selena on the Florida set of her new film Spring Breakers.

“Whats up baby? I can’t stop thinking about you… I said I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s all. Yes, so, um, I gotta do this interview but I just wanted to call and hear your voice really quickly… Okay, I love you. Okay bye.”

Skype and FaceTime keep them connected, he says.

“Ten years ago, or even five years, long distance relationships were much harder. Now you see each other anytime you want!”

May 25th:

Justin and Selena reunite as he picks her up from the LAX airport

*full article (x) / photos (x)

May 26th:

Selena and Justin are photographed out for a lunch date at Benihana in Sherman Oaks. Afterwards the two snuck out the back door hand-in-hand. Selena then went her own way as she cruised to a nearby 76 gas station in Encino to fill her Ford Escape

*photos here (x)

May 27th:

Selena and Justin were strolling an outdoor mall in Calabasas when paparazzi began harassing them as they were trying to leave. According to witnesses (and photos taken) this photographer was so aggressive that he even blocked Justin's car, and was said to be rudely harassing Selena "about the herpes (coldsore) on her lip" while trying to capture a photo of her. After they began harassing Selena, Justin got out of his car and went to smack the camera from his hands and him and the photographer both fell off the curb.

The photographer was taken away by ambulance AND filed a police report that named Justin as the culprit. The Los Angles County Sheriff's office is investigating and say they will talk to Justin.

One of the girls who supposedly was there shared this:

"long story short; the paps were blocking his car and wouldnt move, he got mad after asking them to move, justin tried to knock their camera, the pap and justin both fell off the curb, he lost his shoe and hat while fighting him, selena and justin left and came back because selena lost her phone, and the paps would not get out of her face, and then they left and now the paps are trying to get money from the whole thing"

Another girl that was allegedly there as a witness had nearly the exact same story as above, except in addition she added the paparazzi were rudely asking Selena "about the herpes on her lip," and that's when and why Justin knocked his camera.

*full video to story above here (x)

May 28th:

Selena attends producer Joel Silver‘s Memorial Day party in Malibu

Selena and Justin have dinner date

*full article / photos here (x)

May 30th:

Detectives want to interview Justin and Selena after a photographer claims he was attacked by Justin at a Calabasas shopping mall Sunday, but authorities continue to seek additional witnesses.

In a statement released Tuesday, the Sheriff's Department said the investigation was continuing and that detectives "are planning to interview Mr. Bieber." Law enforcement sources said Selena is among the witnesses detectives would like to talk to. Detectives are investigating claims by the photographer that Justin struck him after he snapped photographs of Selena at the Commons at Calabasas Shopping Center.

The photographer complained of pain and was taken by the Los Angeles County Fire Department to a hospital, where he was treated and released, officials said. The sources, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because the investigation was ongoing, stressed that the probe was in its early stages.

*source here (x)

June 7th:

Selena’s photoshoot and interview for her Elle cover is released where she briefly mentions Justin renting out LA's Staples Center for a private screening of Titanic:

"If I'll share anything with you, it's that he really is a hopeless romantic. I had just mentioned it in the car - all I said is that I really want to see Titanic again, and then."

June 11th:

Justin joined Selena's mom and step-dad at the Right to Laugh event hosted by the Alliance for Children's Rights at the Avalon in Hollywood. Selena's mom Mandy, a huge supporter of the organization, purchased an entire table to support the cause, and invited Justin to accompany her family.

"Selena and Justin sat side-by-side," a source tells PEOPLE.

"They were laughing and smiling the whole evening. They were being very low-key and gracious as to not take away any attention from the cause."

June 15th:

Justin officially releases his third studio album Believe and many of the album's songs are inspired by Selena and their relationship, including Be Alright, a song about their long distance relationship, that Justin wrote by himself:

Across the ocean, across the sea

Startin' to forget the way you look at me now

Over the mountains, across the sky

Need to see your face and need to look in your eyes

Through the storm and, through the clouds

Bumps on the road and upside down now

I know it's hard baby, to sleep at night

Don't you worry

Selena is referenced by name in the song Beauty & A Beat during Nicki Minaj's rap:

“Justin Bieber / You know I'm gonna hit 'em with the ether / Buns out, wiener/ But I gotta keep an eye out for Selener”

*Be Alright audio here (x)

June 15th:

Selena arrives into Toronto Pearson International airport and Justin is photographed picking her up.

*photos here (x) / (x)

June 16th:

Selena and Justin are photographed boarding a helicopter to fly them into his hometown Stratford Ontario where Justin later sang Baby on steps of the Avon Theatre

*full articles (x)

June 17th:

Justin and Selena both attend Much Music Video Awards ceremony in Toronto, Canada where Justin was performing and Selena was presenting - they walked the red carpet separately and didn't pose for any photos together

*photos here (x)

June 25th:

Justin and Selena have dinner date at Geoffrey’s in Malibu and are later seen departing in Justin’s "party bus"

*photos here (x)

June 26th:

Justin and Selena attend Katy Perry’s “Part of Me” documentary premiere at Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles - Justin skipped the red carpet

Later that evening Justin and Selena arrive at the Bootsy Bellows lounge with Katy Perry and Robert Pattinson in West Hollywood for the after party and headed to a private room in the back of the lounge:

“Justin and Selena shared a table with friends,” a spywitness tells JustJared.com of the after-party.

“They were very affectionate the whole night, holding hands and sharing kisses. Katy and Amber Heard, and Shannon Woodward spent a good portion of the night sitting and chatting with them. Everyone was laughing and having a great time, taking pictures with each other and snacking on mini-cupcakes.”

*full article / photos here (x)

June 28th:

Justin cut short a pre-taped interview with U.S. radio show Mojo in the Morning after the host compared him to Justin Timberlake and quizzed him about a potential romance between his mother and One Direction's Harry Styles.

Thomas Carballo, the host of the show, was in the middle of a phone chat with Justin when he (rightfully so) took offence at his line of questioning - and hung up.

The 10-minute interview got off to a bad start when Carballo told Justin he thought he was Timberlake the first time he heard him.

Justin said, "That's funny because our voices sound nothing alike... Saying I sound like somebody else is definitely not a compliment."

Justin eased up when talking about his new song Maria, which was inspired by the woman who falsely claimed he was the father of her baby last year, but he lost his cool when Carballo got personal and asked if he was worried about Harry Styles falling for his mum.

The DJ said, "Do you worry about Harry around your mum, since he likes older women?"

Clearly upset, Justin then mumbled something about Carballo's mother and, as the radio presenter explained his mum was dead, Justin had already hung up the phone.

A record company representative then tried to convince the DJ that Justin's phone had cut off, explaining, "I can't get him. He's in a really s**tty area."

She later revealed Justin was "really upset" with the questions, adding, "He probably won't be calling back."

*source here (x)

June 30th:

Justin and Selena enjoy a walk around Lake Balboa in Van Nuys, California, stopped at an ice cream truck with Alfredo and stopped by Bronco Burrito for some lunch.

*full article / photos here (x)

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 3

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support you've been giving to this fanfic!

CHAPTER THREE

It was a day of sunlight and cold smoke in New York. The clouds split above towering buildings, the sun shining in its full glory. You left the apartment earlier, scared to wake Bucky up, only for him to wake up to his stepbrother's roommate creeping up on him in the morning. You pushed Bucky's face at the back of your mind. Perhaps he just looked like someone you've seen before or you've bumped into. Who knows? New York is a pretty big city.

With your airpods plugged in, and your phone in your hand, you started running on the streets, greeting some people with a smile on the way, ignoring the pain on your head. There was Millie from the flower shop, Bob from the woodshop, Rex from the coffee shop, and Colin the friendly street beggar. After five blocks, you didn't know anyone anymore. Just some strangers on the street you see from time to time but never interact with.

Already nearing highway streets, you slowed down your pace, careful not to crash into some bikers or worse, these honking cars rushing to get to their 8-5 jobs. There was a pang of relief that rushed over me as you stood on the other end of the street, waiting for the walk sign to turn green. It was one of the things you loved working in a bar and handling your own photography gig. You weren't answering to no one and rushing to work like these angry hooligans. You both worked in the evening and on your own time. Steve wasn't a bossy boss who yells at his staff. He was just like one of you guys, but unlike you, he had a sense of leadership.

And you get to run every morning -- even though there was still a throbbing pain on your forehead. Peter will never be able to persuade you to go work in their company or in any company for that matter. But you must commend him for his unwavering determination.

You stopped at a convenience store after rounding a few more blocks and bought a bottle of water which you've finished right in front of the cashier who found her phone more interesting -- or perhaps she was just used to some girl finishing a bottle of water in mere seconds.

"Hey, where's the trash?" You asked. The trash can beside the counter wasn't there. She just shrugged and popped her bubblegum.

You walked away from the store, knowing all too well that she wouldn't say or do anything past chewing and popping her gum.

Right across from where you were standing was a tall, elegant white hotel adorned with golden flecks of some kind of shiny paint, which you remembered was Bucky's. It stood twenty something stories tall and wedged between a coffee shop and a pizzeria. On Sundays, whenever you and Peter would walk past it, he'd never forget to remind you that it was Bucky's "empire." It was no Chuck Bass empire but you must admit, that was one fine hotel.

You crossed the street and stood in front of it, a way of slowing down your heart rate just a few beats low. You were just about to cool down, anyway.

You admired the engrossed name of the hotel on the archway that led to the lobby: WHITE WOLF with a wolf headstone right between it, like the one in The Arcadian. A memory of Peter telling you how Bucky renamed it came across your mind. Before it was White Wolf, it was the Golden something. Apparently, Bucky was in a safari somewhere north or south? Maybe west. You honestly can't keep up with some of the stories. Somewhere in the face of the earth -- he was on a safari and came across a gorgeous white wolf with fur as white as snow, eyes as blue as the seas and skies. Bucky swore the wolf looked right into his soul. That was implausible but it did give him a good name for his hotel. He repainted the whole beige building white, standing out from the other buildings around.

A woman with no shoes made you tear your eyes away from the beautiful wolf headstone, screaming Bucky's name. You stepped aside and leaned in on one of the archway posts. There was a muffled noise coming from her. You removed your airpods to listen.

"...the hell is Bucky? You! Have you seen that son of a bitch?" She approached the valet boy. He shook his head no. Then she went to the uniformed man on his post or was it a podium?

"I haven't seen Mr. Barnes, madam."

You could tell by the sly look on the man's face that he saw his boss probably running down the street and taking a cab, but before even stepping foot on the streets, Bucky probably told not to tell.

The woman's lips were smeared with red lipstick, hair disheveled and was wearing a man's clothing, probably Bucky's.

Was this the thing that happened at his penthouse?

"Okay, I'm just gonna wait for him in his penthouse. If you ever see your boss, tell him I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, madam."

She went back in, hips swaying along with her blonde hair, not giving a damn at the strangers staring at her as she walked towards the elevators.

The uniformed man caught your eye and you gave him a small wave and a smile. "Crazy morning, huh? Okay, bye."

You chuckled nervously and walked away as fast as you could back to the apartment.

When you got back, Bucky was already up, eating something out of a bowl while watching something on the television. You ignored the memory of you staring at him as he slept safe and sound earlier.

Without looking up, he spoke: "Weren't you supposed to rest?"

You grinned as you walked towards the kitchen, and prepared a protein shake. Suddenly forgetting the wound on your forehead. It didn't hurt as much now.

"I don't listen to Parker." You answered. "I never do."

You set your airpods on the kitchen island then grabbed a shaker, poured in some water and dunked a scoop of protein powder inside. You shook the whole damn thing while approaching Bucky.

You stood beside the couch and faced television. It turned out he was watching some old cartoon.

The image of his hotel flashed before your eyes. "I ran past your hotel today. There was a woman looking for you."

He almost choked on his cereal. You could feel his head look towards in your direction but you ignored him, enjoying the chase between Tom and Jerry on the tv screen. "Can't believe this is still on tv." You commented.

"D-did she say something?"

"Kept shouting your name and stuff. Called you son of a bitch and all that." You stopped shaking the shaker then took a big gulp. "I hear she's planning to burn down the White Wolf into the ground." You stifled a smile, letting the liquid stay in your mouth for a little while. "Then find you and take all your money away."

He groaned, picking up on your tone. "Not funny."

"All of that was true except the last part, though." You finally let out a laugh then looked at him who now had his eyes back on the screen. "So, you leave your girlfriend alone up there? Then come here?" You would've said it was pretty low of him but this was Bucky. You knew he'd done worse.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"She's a girlfriend?"

"She's nothing but a one night stand. Don't have a girlfriend." He sighed, putting down the bowl. It turned out it was cereal he was eating. Cartoons and cereal. Wow. He really did act like an eight-year old. "Then after we... well, you know, she suddenly told me she loved me. I was drunk! Then I felt this rush, like a panic, then when she was fast asleep, I didn't know what else to do so I came here."

You knitted your brows and kept your gaze on him. Last night, he told you guys it was a long story. A thing came up. "That wasn't a long story."

"I was hammered and real sleepy. For me it was a long story." He replied.

You just laughed in response, then walked towards your bedroom. Before you could even finish your drink, Bucky shouted for your name. You yelled for him back.

"Will you come with me to the hotel?" Bucky's voice was loud but small. Like a child asking to go to the playground. It felt more like it with the muffled cartoon noises in the background.

You stepped out of your room, finishing the rest of your drink. A big gulp. Then you pouted at him. "Want me to drive away the scary woman?"

Instead of responding with a simple yes or a slight nod, Bucky shot you a wide smile with his shoulders up, making an accidental flex with his lean tricep muscles on both of his arms, and squeezing his chest muscles while he was at it. He held it for too long that veins were starting to show.

You diverted your attention from his muscles to his face. He tried to look cute as a button but in your view, he looked strained. Yet his smile never wavered. You finally agreed to go with him as long as he took a shower first, telling him he reeked of alcohol.

"Are you always this mean?" Bucky said, but his voice was light and not at all heavy or dark.

"Pretty much." You snickered before going back inside your room.

You were sitting on your yoga mat -- just finished some few stretches -- and watching some tv show on the HBO channel when Bucky came out of the bathroom. A towel hung low on his waist -- you didn't even bother to look at his toned details so as to not freak him out with all the staring since you've been doing that a lot since he'd arrived. You focused your attention back on the screen.

"Were you just working out?" He asked, ruffling his hair.

"Just some yoga." You shrugged.

You let him borrow an oversized shirt of yours. The entire time, he was behind your in your room. Bucky attempted to make some small conversation while you were rummaging through your stuff. "Cool space you got here. You photograph?"

"Yeah." You replied. "It's probably not convenient having a studio space inside my room but Parker and I couldn't afford a three-space bedroom, so yeah."

"It's still pretty cool." His response remained.

Your room was bigger than Peter's since you had to have your studio corner. He wasn't a space hogger or anything so he let you get the bigger room. You had little decorations in your room except for a few photos of college friends, old roommates, and you and Peter, a clock on the wall, some band posters from the 70's like Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, and the lights you needed for your studio corner. On that side, on the other hand, had more things to offer. Products from previous projects and all the stuff you needed for taking photos like lights, backdrops, tables, a bunch of chairs, and whatnots. Then the walls were just plain white. Yet Bucky still managed to explore around until you found him an oversized shirt.

You threw the shirt towards him. He managed to catch it on the air without looking at it. A quick reflex.

"Do you have some of your photos here?"

"They're in the bar downstairs." You replied. He looked at me with both eyebrows raised, asking a question with his face. "I work there as a bartender and my boss lets me put up my photos on the wall."

"Well, I'd love to see them."

"Actually, there's a shipment coming this afternoon. There will be no people. You can come with me then." You paused. "Unless you have other plans?" There was a part of you that wanted Bucky to have no plans this afternoon. You had a feeling he didn't. You wanted to trust your instincts.

"I have nothing going on." Oh good. "I can show you how I make a mean drink while we're there." Bucky smirked then put on the shirt which had a Rolling Stones logo on the front. He looked down on it and shot me a smile. The shirt still fit him, hugging all his muscles but it was better than Peter's clothes who wear the tightest fits on earth.

"What do you think?" He asked, showing you his fit while still having the towel draped around his waist.

"You look like a rockstar." You blatantly replied. "And hey, I can also make a mean drink. Really mean."

"Please I make the best ones, doll."

"I'll be the judge of that."

[gerarchive]

My Chemical Romance site updates (pt. 1)

☠︎ 5.02.02

Thanks to everyone who came to the Hamilton Street show. Everyone at the show was really supportive of us and it was much appreciated.

The wait for May 15th just keeps getting longer and longer. We're working hard finishing up material for the album, and cannot wait to get into the studio. We're especially excited to be working with John Naclerio, Alex Saavedra, and Geoff Rickly in making the best album we can. -r

Just thought I'd give a quick reminder that Vampires Will Never Hurt You can be heard on 89.5 WSOU during Under The Stars, which airs on Thursdays from 10pm-12am. If you're not in the NJ/NY Metro area, you won't get the station, but you can listen to an internet broadcast at www.nj.com/wsou/. You can also request the song at AIM screen-name WSOURequests. -r

☠︎ 5.15.02

Lets ROCK.

We leave this morning to record our full length for Eyeball Records, "I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love". We will be gone 9 days at Nada Studios in upstate NY with super-sexy Alex Saavedra, The Talented Mr. Rickly, studio genius John Naclerio, and Tucker "Three Hands" Rule. Please bear with us as we will not really be able to send email and answer questions.

I would like to say on behalf of the band that the overwhelming positive response and love we have received has been tremendous and has us pumped to make what we think will be a great record. We will miss you guys but just wait to you hear what we come back with.

Expect some changes to the site when we get back, some preview MP3s, a new look for the page, t-shirts, buttons, and a whole new face... -g

☠︎ 6.06.02

Awesome news! The Eyeball Records website has been updated with lots of great new info and an awesome look. Check it out! To celebrate we've released a new mp3 for This Is The Best Day Ever in the Audio section. Also, here's a preview of the cover art for our debut "I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love." -r

☠︎ 6.24.02

Hello all! Just some quick things. Updated show listings have been added. This week, we're playing 6.28.02 at the Middletown Knights of Columbus, and 6.29.02 at the Limestone Grange Hall in Wilmington, Delaware with Element 101, A Trunk Full Of Dead Bodies, and other great bands. We're also planning a CD Release party at the Loop Lounge on 7.19! We'll be playing with Sleep Station and The Sainte Catherines, two awesome Eyeball bands. It should be awesome! Check the Shows page for updated info on that and other shows.

T-shirts are now available at the Eyeball Records website! Click the Shop link to purchase MCR t-shirts and other great Eyeball merch. Rest assured that your dollars will be well-spent on new toy action figures for the band :-)

Some new photos have been added and other assorted things behind the scenes. We're looking to relaunch the site when the record comes out, so expect lots of changes soon!

☠︎ 7.09.02

Cd comes out in two weeks!!! To celebrate, we're having a record release party at the Loop Lounge on July 19th. We'll be playing with Sleep Station and Canadian rockers The Sainte Catherines. The show is 21 and over. For those who can't make it to this show, we'll also be playing a show at Rexplex on August 3rd. This show is all ages. Check the shows page for more info.

Along with T-shirts, you can now pre-order our CD at the Eyeball Records website.

Apologies to Joshua Atkins and those who were looking forward to seeing us in Red Lion, PA. We had to cancel the July 2nd show because we had van troubles. The van is back in somewhat running, so hopefully soon we can rebook a show.

Made some updates to the audio page. You can check out the artwork for the CD and also see the track listing.

Thanks to all those who came out to the shows this past weekend. Once again we met some great people and had a blast playing. Its good to see a lot of people who saw us join the message board. This gives us a chance to communicate with all of you, so if you haven't already, join up!

-r

☠︎ 7.15.02

Happy Birthday Ray!

It's Ray's birthday...so send him a dinosaur if you can. Or wish him a happy one on our message board. Show your appreciation for an excellent guitar player and an even better friend.

Record release show this Friday! Check the Shows section for more info. If you are 21+ bring lots of bat-repelant and extra eyeliner, because we will definitely be playing harder than ever before. And get there early enough to see The Sainte Catherines and the amazing new incarnation of Sleep Station.

We've been added to the 89.5 WSOU FM playlist! So please do request us as much as possible. The number to call is (973) 761-9768, 761-7546 or IM

WSOURequests. They have two tracks by us, "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" and

"This Is The Best Day Ever". Those are the only tracks they will have until the album is released. Any requests for us keep us charting and in rotation so please call as much as possible! Thanks.

Also, check out our pals in Element 101, just added to the Links section. We're playing July 26th in Harrisburg, PA with them and River City High. As soon as we get more show info we'll update it.

Stay out of the sun. Watch your back. And sharpen your knives.

-g

☠︎ 7.30.02

Rexplex show on August 3rd! This is gonna be a fun time, so if you can come out, we'd appreciate you being there! There will be lots of other cool things to do besides listening to great tunes, so please make it out if you can! Also, we have a show on the 4th in Farmingdale, NY. This is gonna be another good one, so check out the Shows page for more info on these and other upcoming shows.

Cds should be popping up in stores this week. There was a slight delay caused by our manufacturer getting product to our distributor late, but everything is going smoothly now. You can also buy them from the Eyeball Records online shop. Apologies to those who have been waiting for the cd. We thank you for your patience.

New Photos have been put up, and a new song has been added to our mp3.com page. It takes a few days for the approval process, so it should be up shortly.

Lastly, buy the new Masters of the Universe figures. MCR fully endorses these products,although we don't get any free toys for doing so :-( Check out all the He-Man news here!

☠︎ 8.14.02

Suprise! I'm sick again!

I may look like a boatswain and smell like a corpse, but the shows are still a go for the weekend. Please try and check us out at Maxwells this Friday with The Lawndarts and The High School Sweethearts. We're very excited to be

playing Maxwells and it's been a personal dream of mine ever since I was a kid going to shows there. There are some people flying out and travelling many miles to see us so keep them company and meet some new friends. Click

SHOWS and get the skinny on where it's going down.

We're also trying a first this weekend for My Chem- 2 shows in one day. This Saturday we have the pleasure of playing Alissa's Basement at 6:00 and then we hop in the van to make soundcheck at The Loop as soon as we finish. Eyeball label-mates, Little Joe Gould are coming out all the way from Indiana for this show so we've decided to risk health and safety to play both shows.

If you've seen the shape of us after just one set you're probably curious what we will be like at the second show - so are we. I can assure you a night of "hot male action" and "stinky boys".

Also check out our good friends in The Ghost and The Exit in our links section. We had the good fortune of seeing both bands play 2 nights last

weekend and they were great. Drinking in The Ghost van outside of CBs with Jordan and T-Top was definitely a plus.

I need a shave, a new dye-job, and some decongestant so I'll leave you with the image of me sitting in my house watching Mad Monster Party, moaning, sweating, boxer-clad, and trying to hit the high notes in Headfirst For Halos.

- g

☠︎ 8.19.02

Trial by fire.

Such an amazing weekend. MCR would like to thank everyone who came out and supported us at any of the shows we played or all three. We'd like to thank Chuck Nasty and The Lawndarts for showing us an amazing time and having us at Maxwells. And to everyone who rocked out and was singing in the front, tearing the monitors off the stage, screaming, puking, throwing cameras - you

guys know how to fucking party.

The highlight of our weekend was meeting and performing with Little Joe Gould at the Loop Lounge. This band is amazing...you will never see anything like it and you'll never meet a nicer bunch of people. Just when we thought we at

MCR had the lockdown on "evil" these guys came all the way from Indiana, schooled us, and lit the place on fire. Be sure to check them out this week at The Bloomfield Ave Stage and Cafe on Thursday with us, Sleep Station (another great Eyeball band) and Nola. The SHOWS section has more info, and please check these guys out while they're in town or you'll be missing a great performance.

☠︎ 8.29.02

What's up everybody! We're taking some needed rest this week. Well not really, cuz we're making a lot of strides with the street team. We're working on getting downloadable flyers for upcoming shows, demo cds to kids in out of state areas that haven't been able to get a copy of the record, and other cool stuff. Look for more updates about this and other stuff soon!

You can download and print our Skatefest flyer here.

☠︎ 8.30.02

Jimmy Eat World.

We're opening up for Jimmy Eat World tommorow on 8/31/02 at The Allentown Fairgrounds in Allentown, PA! Excited isn't even the word to describe how we feel about this show, it's our biggest show yet so please try and come out. Go to Grandstand or the Shows page for more info. They spelled our name wrong. We're listed as The Chemical Reaction which is better than being listed as The Chemical Brothers like when we played Philly. And speaking of Philly we should be getting confirmation today on another very exciting show for us. We'll be opening for another Eyeball band that has a thing for doves...

☠︎ 9.10.02

Take Action!

Check the SHOWS sections for info about our show with Thursday this Saturday at The Electric Factory in Philly, PA. It's part of the Plea For Peace Tour and features The International Noise Conspiracy, Common Rider and The Lawrence Arms. It's going to be a pretty good fucking show so make sure to get there early to check us out. We've been waiting to open up for our buddies in Thursday for a while now and it's our first time...so be gentle. Also check us out at Skatefest the following night in Worcester, MA.

Happy Birthday Mikey...

It's my little bro's birthday today. So make sure to wish him a happy one or instant message him. Make sure to start off your conversation by saying "Hey" "I don't know how you got on my buddy list" "Do I know you?" . He loves that. He also loves Transformers so hook a brutha up!

We'd also like to welcome NJ's own, The Banner, to the Eyeball Records family. Expect lots of fights between me and the singer, Joey Southside, about who gets to use the eyeliner first when we play with them on 9.26.02.

-g

☠︎ 9.26.02

Tour dates have been posted on the shows page. More info on the "TBA" shows should come in this week, so the page will be updated when it arrives! Catch us at the Bloomfield Cafe tomorrow where we wrestle The Banner in a rock 'n' roll grudge match! Hope to you see yall at the shows!

Also, thanks to everyone who has supported us at the past few shows and from the beginning of our little endeavor into rock. You guys and gals mean everything to us!

-r

☠︎ 11.15.02

Do you like gladiator movies?

What's up everybody! We got back from Chicago a few days ago after thoroughly rocking the Metro. Everyone there was awesome, thanks to all the kids that took time to meet us after the show. Also thanks go out to the Drive and Cellar Door for making music. Check those two bands out. Also check out our shows page for some new dates where we'll be fighting the good fight!

MCR is going through a change of some kind, I can't exactly put my finger on it. It seems to have started after the Downtime show, but we're slowly becoming more than just 5 kids making rock 'n' roll. The band is taking on a life of its own, and it seems that we're thankfully along for the ride. We are slowly becoming...

Gladiators of Rock 'n' Roll! Or some shit like that...None of this would be possible without you guys and gals, so never, ever forget that, and never let any band or anybody tell you different. You allow us to make music for you, and for that, we can't thank you enough.

Be good to your friends, and love a dinosaur or two - r.

☠︎ 12.8.02

Ohhh, sweet chubby!

We're back for a few days before we leave for another two weeks, and it feels good to be home. We've been having a blast with Underoath and Brazil. Please check these bands out. Its also been great seeing all you lovely people at the shows. I can't describe the feeling of seeing kids knowing our music and singing along in states we've never been to yet. Its fucking awesome.

New tour dates have been posted!!! We're going to be on the road from early January to mid- February and we cannot wait! West Coast here we come!!! I'm off to do some home things like re-pose my Transformers and He-Man toys and wash some clothes. Thanks again for coming to the shows, and we hope to see you all at the ones coming up as well!

-r

☠︎ 12.8.02

We're back for a few days before we leave for another two weeks, and it feels good to be home. We've been having a blast with Underoath and Brazil. Please check these bands out. Its also been great seeing all you lovely people at the shows. I can't describe the feeling of seeing kids knowing our music and singing along in states we've never been to yet. Its fucking awesome.

New tour dates have been posted!!! We're going to be on the road from early January to mid- February and we cannot wait! West Coast here we come!!! I'm off to do some home things like re-pose my Transformers and He-Man toys and wash some clothes. Thanks again for coming to the shows, and we hope to see you all at the ones coming up as well!

If you have time, check out the article at noisetheory.net! It includes a CD review and interview with your's truly!

-r

☠︎ 12.25.02

Merry Christmas everybody! Hope you all have a safe and happy holiday. We'd like to thank you all for giving us the greatest Christmas gift...your friendship and your appreciation of our music. Besides the show in Boston on the 29th, we're taking a short break over the holidays, but will be back rocking for you starting January 5th. Come party with us! Again, thanks for everything you have done for us.

Love,

MCR

[dreamescapeswriting]

Your Side Of The Bed ~ MYG [Drabble]

↬↬↬Word Count: 1.5K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst? Fluff ending. Drabble

↬↬↬Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader

↬↬↬A/N: Loosely based on the Your side of the bed song. Also I wrote this with a headache and at 2 am because I couldn’t sleep so I’m sorry if it sucks but I wanted to get it out after listening to the song on repeat

You stared down at the space beside you in the bed which was normally occupied by Yoongi but instead there was someone else laying there, the covers covering him while you sat in one of Yoongi's shirts with your knees pulled into your chest. You couldn't sleep while he laid there, it wasn't his space to sleep it was Yoongis and it was always going to be Yoongi's place to sleep. Sliding your legs off the bed you tiptoed down the staircase and into the cupboard under the stairs where you found all the memories you and Yoongi shared together. Flicking through the album you found photographs of you and the boys together, one of the photos sticking out the most. 

"Yoongi! Jungkook I swear to god! Yoongi?!" You called out to your boyfriend for help while Jungkook rushed around the dorms with a cupcake in his mouth as well as six in his arms, 

"What did he do this time?" Yoongi asked grabbing you before you could grab a hold of Jungkook who was smirking as he added a full cupcake into his mouth, 

"Choke on it." You grumbled brushing off the apron and looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend of many months smiling brightly at him as he leant down to give you a kiss. It was Sunday at the dorms which meant while Jin worked on cooking a huge dinner for all eight of you you were working on baking cupcakes for all of you and Jungkook had run off with the prototypes that you were practising your decorating on.  

"You have flour on your head," He brushed it off with his fingers and bent down to kiss you, the moment being captured on film by Jimin who was taking photos for memories. 

You ran your hands over the photo of you and Yoongi and you sighed wondering what the boys were up to, it was 2 am so you knew at least four of them were awake. You debated grabbing your phone to call them but then you remembered that they probably hated you for what happened with Yoongi even though it wasn't huge. You just broke up because he had no time for you anymore, he decided that it was best to give you your freedom even though it wasn't what you wanted. You wanted to be with Yoongi forever but you could tell he meant it when he told you to stay away,

"You alright?" You flinched as you felt a cold hand touch the lower part of your back and you nodded closing the photo album, 

"Couldn't sleep." You whispered looking up at your current boyfriend, all you could see right now was that he wasn't Yoongi. It was all you could ever see at night when you were left alone with your thoughts, he was a great guy but you didn't see a future with him. 

"I'll make us some hot chocolate," You shook your head getting up from the floor of the cupboard, 

"I'm going to go for a walk. Alone. You stay here." You mumbled rushing off to find some leggings and a coat, it was 2 in the morning so you weren't about to go out in the cold in practically nothing. 

"I can come with you-" You slammed the front door before he could speak and headed out into the street, letting the morning air fill your lungs and try to relax you but it wasn't working.

Yoongi downed another shot as Namjoon sat down beside him staring as his friend drank away his feelings,  

"You have to forget about her," Yoongi gave his friend the side-eye and ordered another round of shots for himself, he didn't want to hear the usual speech from Namjoon. The same speech he'd heard six times this week and it wasn't even Friday yet, he'd heard the same speech the moment he broke up with you months ago but it wasn't easy to forget about you. You were everywhere he turned even at the studio, all the songs were about you, all the photographs were still sitting on his desk as if he could ever forget the love of his life.

"You did what you had to do for the sake of the band." Yoongi slammed the shot glass down and got up from the bar, Jungkook walked over ready to give him a pep talk but he didn't want to listen to them anymore. They all acted as though they weren't friends with you at one point and that they hated you but it was far from the truth he knew they loved you just as much as you loved them. 

You were walking past the local bar when someone stumbled out of the doors and right into your arms, you groaned as they put their whole weight on you. 

"Sorry, I'm just-" They stopped speaking and you looked up to see why when you came face to face with Yoongi, you didn't know what to do until he grabbed a hold of your hand and made a run for it you didn't even question it you just ran with him. 

You ran until he stopped in a park leaning down over his knees to catch his breath and at first you thought he was going to vomit and lead him over to a park bench where he stared up at you. 

"You look pretty...You're in my shirt." You nodded as he looked at you and then at the shirt then back up to you, he was sobering up minute by minute the longer he stared up at you. 

"You're plastered." You sighed looking around for a small shop to buy him some water from but he grabbed your face and made you stare back at him, 

"I love you. I will always love you." You heard Namjoon and Jungkook calling his name and you stared at him, 

"Yoongi you-"

"I know I broke things off but I didn't mean any of it." You stared at him and then at Namjoon who slowed down when he saw you sitting with Yoongi, your eyes filled with tears as you realised he was never going to remember anything he was saying to you or what you were going to say to him. 

"I love you too," You kissed his cheek and got up from the bench walking past Namjoon and Jungkook who were both staring at the floor not knowing what to do in this situation. 

"Where were you?" You stared at your boyfriend and then down at the floor where he had been sitting, he was sitting at the bottom of the stairs with the box full of Yoongi's things. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" You asked taking the box and going through it to make sure nothing was missing but the album was gone, 

"That's his, isn't it?!" He asked referring to the shirt you were standing in and you nodded taking the album out of his hand and putting back into the box where it belonged.

"You're not over him?" You stared at the items in the box and felt angered that he'd touched them, 

"Why do you care?" You mumbled taking it back to the cupboard under the stairs and storing it away,

"Because I was starting to fall for you." You scoffed at his comment, 

"You don't even know me, it's been four weeks." He stared at you as you insensitively said what you had just said, 

"You're evil, no wonder he left you." The front door slammed and you locked it going up the stairs to your bedroom to see the empty bed again, there was no way you were going to be able to sleep now so you stripped the sheets off the bed and began working on cleaning the house of the ex you had just gotten rid of if.

The doorbell rang later that morning and you expected it to be your ex but standing there was a sober Yoongi wearing a hoodie and sunglasses, you let him inside and he stared at you. 

"You haven't slept." 

"I don't sleep much without you here." You admitted not holding back this time, he clearly reminded the previous night if he was standing in front of you, he slipped off the shades. 

"I heard you had someone new?" You shook your head going on to explain what happened while making you and Yoongi some coffee it was as if nothing had happened between you. You were curled up next to him on the sofa, your head resting on his shoulder as you told him about life without him. 

"I don't sleep much without you either." He admitted once you'd finished and you stared at him, wanting nothing more than to go up to the bed and curl up next to him and sleep, 

"What if-" You couldn't finish because his lips were on yours, his hands tracing along your hips as he brought you onto his lap in a heated make-out session, 

"You're still in my shirt." He mumbled against your lips and you nodded pulling away and staring deep into your eyes, 

"I love you Yoongi."

"I love you too...Would you take me back?" You nodded, as if it was even a question and he kissed you once again.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @rjsmochii​ @fan-ati--c​

[scoot-over-yonder]

Update 3/1/2022

As of this past Monday, I've been out of quarantine 2 weeks. Unfortunately, that's the average span of time it takes for my sleep schedule to turn upside-down when I'm on a break, so here I am, having been up all night and slept all day out of no desire to on my own, likely going to do the same tonight. But at least I'll have classes to force me into a proper sleep schedule, especially since I have an evening Korean class two days out of the week.

It's 9:30 at night the time I've started writing this. I can walk to my room's window and look out and see the bright city of Gwangju, if only just a little part of it. At some point I'd love to go out and walk the city at night; I may be a country baby, but there's few sights I love more than bright neon signs and streetlights on overpasses and life in general still going on even in the deep hours of the night, but due to a certain virus most businesses are required to close after 10, and the buses stop running around the same time. My own curfew at the university is between 1-5am, which is almost a little silly in how late and short it is, but I'd guess it's to discourage people from being out in the city and exposed to danger all night long.

Outside the window is another sight I've found is common on the Korean nighttime skyline - eerie, neon-red crosses atop every church.

My phone's camera isn't great, but you can see two in the image - the obvious one there, and there's also another farther one on the left.

I can count a grand total of seven of these from the view from my window, and while I suppose it is an effective way to signal the location of a church, it's still a little... hm. I don't know. I hate to repeat a descriptor, but it's eerie.

During my time out of quarantine, I've managed to do a lot. One thing in particular was an entire trip to Seoul with some fellow Americans (and I believe one French girl), which will be its own post(s) considering how much we did.

Aside from that, I've mostly been busy. I haven't been able to try much yet outside of Seoul on account of the fact that I know basically zero Korean aside from "hello" and "thank you". However, there is an abundance of the glorious invention that is a lifesaver for not only the COVID-conscious, but introverts and monolinguals, the electronic ordering kiosk. I've been able to feed myself without draining all of my hope in myself using those things, especially getting a spicy soup or fried chicken that I really like from Hansot.

I did go with a few girls to an area here in Gwangju the other day, and while unfortunately I've forgotten the name (I may add it to the next post when I remember/find it), it was a street full of shops. Many of them were names you'd find here in America, like H&M or Burger King or... National Geographic? I didn't know they had stores, let alone in Korea. But there was something that was the highlight of my night, a little hole in the wall that sold corn dogs.

REALLY good corn dogs. So good that I'd love to use stronger language to describe them, but I'm keeping this blog clean. It was a hot dog sausage that tasted better than any hot dog sausage I've ever had back home, dipped in some sort of heavenly corn batter that was so good that I would and did eat some on its own, and that was rolled around in potato chunks and then fried. I never thought I would have a borderline spiritual experience from a corn dog.

Bask in the glory. It looks small. It was not. What's in there was the size of your typical hot dog weenie, absolutely smothered with corndog stuff and taters. I'd dare say it's worth coming here just for these.

We also went to a self-photo studio. There are so many of those here. You cannot escape them. Though, from what it seems, you're free to take as many pictures with your own camera in the lobby as you like, but if you want their little fancy picture machines to do it for you it costs money - but not much; ₩2,000 each (a little over $1.50) was what this studio charged. I got put in the back because I had a lobster hat on. Unfortunately, I'm very short, and they weren't too mindful of me, so it was a struggle to be in the pictures in the first place.

Also, there was a huge plush cat.

It was also my twentieth birthday last week. It's hard to believe I've been alive 2 decades now, possibly because for better or for worse I don't feel a day over 14. Technically, in Korea, I'm considered to be 21 and have since I got here, since Koreans gain a year at the beginning of the year and are considered one year old at birth.

The drinking age here is 19 (18 to us). Yes, I've tried some things, including soju, which was one of the strangest things I've tasted. I also tried a drink that tasted almost exactly like Tootsie Rolls, if Tootsie Rolls were alcoholic.

Strangely enough, a bottle of soju here costs ₩1,200 (exactly one dollar) and you can get it from basically any convenience store. To be more specific, that's less than soda or even water costs here. I'm... a little concerned.

But back to birthday stuff... I had told some of the girls I was traveling with that it was going to be my birthday. I didn't expect anything; I already had my own gift from my mom to open (which was a bunch of cards written by all sorts of people back home, thank you to everyone who wrote one!), but the day after my birthday they came to my dorm with a little macaron with a candle in it and a gift bag. In it was a couple more macarons, a little pack of cotton candy, and a hedgehog plush - I see you glancing at my profile picture; it was a regular hedgehog plush, not Sonic, though it is very adorable. They said they had tried to find something Sonic with absolutely no luck. I have, too. I've looked everywhere. These stores have everything from Sanrio to Peanuts to My Hero Academia to Harry Potter, but aside from a few people recognizing my profile picture or phone wallpaper, the blue blur is surprisingly absent here. Sad!

They did draw him on a sticky note on the bag, though :)

And here's the plush - I've named him Nicky. If you know, you know.

There's more to tell about Gwangju (as well as the Seoul trip, which was so jam-packed that I may have to split it into a post for each day), but this post has gotten a little long, so I'll leave some for tomorrow evening.

I'm sorry for the delay in posting; if I'm being honest it's been hard to motivate myself to write anything about anything lately. But I have a bit of a backlog of things to talk about, so keep an eye out over the next few days :)

[outro-jo]

Ateez as Boyfriends

pairing: ateez member x reader (gender neutral)

type: headcanon

summary: how the ateez members would be as boyfriends 🥰

warnings: none that i know of

a/n: The vibe of the song fits the vibe of the relationship since I haven’t looked up all the lyrics yet. 😂 please read info before requesting

masterlist | info

—————————

Hongjoong- “Dazzling Light”

Would do his cringy MJ impression when you’re sad to make you laugh

Calls you when it’s late at the studio and he’s stuck just to hear your voice for Inspo

Needs someone to take care of him bc he takes care of everyone else

Will likely raid his s/o’s closet but has NO problem giving up a hoodie or two

Goes to his s/o when he needs to breathe. Like when the boys are being too much but he loves seeing them interact with the boys as well.

Pulls s/o on to his lap ALL the time and buries his face in the crook of their neck.

Has a secret album of dirty photos of you on his phone. Password protected, of course

Dates are very lowkey. Either takeout and a movie at your place or like a nap together or something

NEVER forgets an anniversary

Not afraid to cry around you

knows he doesn’t have a lot of time to dedicate with you so he’ll sometimes call or facetime just so you guys can just ✨be✨ together

Kisses are usually quick and hello/goodbye but very sweet

Likes to give temple, cheek, and top of hand kisses

If their s/o is short, BACK HUGS and just like holds them

consent is HUGE for him. early on in the relationship he’ll pretty much always ask before showing physical affection

HELLA flirty and occasionally giggly

Calls you his “Treasure”

Writes SO many songs about you

Seonghwa- “Mist”

Extremely protective and cuddly

Will probably give you one of his plushies at the beginning of the relationship so you’ll have something the reminds you of him to cuddle

Jacket hugs

The ultimate gentleman. Holds doors, walks on the outside edge of the sidewalk, gives you his full attention when you talk.

Loves to go shopping with you and is VERY patient to let you try on everything you want and holds you bags

Talks about kids REALLY early on in the relationship

lego building dates 🥺

Keeps a photo of you in his wallet as well as a cute photo of the two of you is his lockscreen

Will just watch you do basic, mundane tasks with heart eyes and the softest smile on his face

Will randomly bring the back of your hand to his lips while he’s holding it to kiss it

likes to watch kdramas and animations with you

Plans the cutest, most intimate (not sexual. Calm down) dates

Texts you little reminders during the day to drink water or unclench your jaw or take a deep breath

Makes sure you know that every performance is for you and Atiny

Yunho- “Utopia”

I feel like he’s a bf you lose a lot.

Like you’re out at a market or something and then next thing you know he’s gone but you find him later talking to an old street vendor getting life advice from him with a flower in his hand that made him think of you.

If you lose him at a party, he’s on the dance floor dropping it low

is SOOOO endeared when you do anything for him or give anything to him. especially when the gift is expensive or something you did takes a lot of time

The “little gift that made him think of you” is an almost daily occurrence. From your favorite snack to like a necklace. It’s all over the place.

“This sweatshirt looks soft and I thought you’d like it. You want me to wear it for a while so it smells like me?”

Detours. All the time.

Like he had a date planned but then he saw a new restaurant he wanted to try or he got a random craving for kimchi and that’s what you’re doing now.

Loves for you to play with his hair

Always has your hand in his. Whether he’s just holding it or playing with it, he’s not letting go.

The most fun and playful relationship.

Could almost talk in code with all the inside jokes you have which comes in handy around the other boys.

the quickest way to his heart is through his stomach (taurus venus things✨)

Will eat whatever you make him and will tell you it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten

Cuddles but likes to be the little spoon every once in a while

Naps together

Has a handshake with you

Wants you to be close with his family but especially his mom

Yeosang- “Star 1117”

Not overly clingy but when he’s tired he LOVES to cuddle

Either don’t touch his chicken or he’s feeding you. No in between but always on his terms.

loves for you to come to the gym with him even if you don’t work out. he just likes having you around

Lots of nature dates like picnics and trips to botanical gardens.

a regular occurrence for him to zone out while you’re talking to him. he’s just so taken by you and going over your appearance that he just gets lost in you

his cheeks get SO red when you catch him 🥺

Will ALWAYS tell it like it is. He tries to be more gentle with you but he’ll vent about the boys quite a bit bc you’re his safe place

loves if you game with him but if not he’s happy to have you sit with him

CHEEK KISSES- it’s his soft little reminder of how much he cares about you but it’s a quick and not so heavy on the PDA

Pinky holding

not sure if he’s really into drones or not still but he’ll send little notes or gifts by drone

especially after a fight

the type that’s comfortable just ✨existing✨ with you. like you’re reading a book on the sofa while he games or reads or works on his music

Lowkey the jealous type but tries not to show it

Loves to see you in his sweaters and hoodies

holds your hand when he’s listening to you talk intently

Giggles at how cute you are almost daily

the BEST to explore new cities with

San- “Promise”

THE BIGGEST HYPEMAN

“THAT’S MY GF/BF!”

ultimate instagram boyfriend. he gets all the angles

If you are sad, he will do everything in his power to make you feel better

Kisses all over your face

Back hugs 25/8

CUDDLES

dates range from nap dates to EXTRAVAGANT dinners

loves to give you expensive gifts

“only the best for my baby” ☺️

Just the most affectionate in general

be prepared to do nothing. he loves doing things for you bc acts of service is one of the big ways he shows love

bringing in the groceries? his job

cant reach something? boyfie san to the rescue

need an odd job done around the house? he’s already on it and if he doesn’t know how to do it, he’s pulling up a youtube vid on how to do it

Says he can’t sleep without you

would love for you to be friends with the other members but never pressures or pushes anything

Is constantly asking if there’s anything on your mind bc he wants you to confide in him and he doesn’t want you to be stressed or worried about anything

Took you to meet his grandparents really early on in the relationship

likes to have you sit with him or cuddle with him while he games

loves it if you game too but doesn’t expect it or ask if it isn’t your thing

Dates under the stars

Pinky promises for everything

the most patient with you when you’re doing anything or moving a little slow or have a hard time understanding something

Calls you his Wifey/Hubby sometimes

You’re the first person he sees when he gets a new hair cut and color

You’re opinion means the most to him

Mingi- “Stay”

Biggest baby

CUDDLY

“I look handsome, don’t I, babe?”

Needs a lot of attention and compliments bc he’s a words of affirmation boy 🥺

but always willing to give a compliment right back

Casual dates: lunch dates, coffee/ice cream dates, shopping dates

Loves holding your hand when you’re walking and swinging hands in the middle

Piggy back rides

Wants you to have all of his hoodies

Surprised you with a trip to the beach but ends up in trouble bc the only person he told was Wooyoung and Woo blabbed to HJ who obviously had to tell the managers

Likes to go shopping for clothes for himself and get your opinion on the outfits he puts together (Minkiway)

would LOVE if you trusted him to style an outfit for you

You’re the first person he runs his raps by and new productions

His face LIGHTS UP when he sees you

Him trying to wink at you from across the room

Wooyoung- “Sunrise”

Looks at you like you’re the only person in the world

Wants to know everything about you

RUNS TO YOU WHEN HE SEES YOU

Is a giant toddler

if you’re across the room or in a different section of a store, he’s gonna yell for you

Loves to plan ✨Extra✨ dates

His favorite thing is to travel with you

Wants to hold your hand all the time and will fuss if he isn’t holding your hand

Bites to show affection

2am convenience store runs

Likes to be the little spoon and babied a little bit

Has an anniversary for everything

Likes to take Polaroids of small moments

Gives the most thoughtful birthday and Christmas presents

Likes to sing to you whenever he can

Doesn’t need y’all to be best friends but if San doesn’t like you, you’re out. Thankfully, San likes everyone, so you’re good

Jongho- “Twilight”

Will pick you up (if you let him)

Likes to flex his strength, especially if you like to see it. (And you do)

Softest boy

Records videos of himself singing to help you sleep

Also records little messages to send to you while he’s away

Likes to call you to talk about his day

Feels like he’s bad at planning dates so he’ll ask the boys for help

Not as much of a hand holder but loves your arm in his. This way you’re closer

Loves to think of himself as your teddy bear

Wants to know what music you listen to and listens to your fav songs when he’s gone bc he misses you

FLIRTY AF

Winks, blows kisses from across the room, smirks

Wants to hear your perspective on life

Asks deep questions and has in-depth convos

Spoils you in little ways and try’s to play it off to keep it lowkey

[deniigi]

@pomegranate-belle and @puffins-studio have kindly convinced me to share with you all this little bit.

It’s of Electric Sheep but if Android Matt had a Mike who’s been looking for him since they were separated as youths (right before Matt started to become an android)

Title: Seventeen years

Summary: bounty hunter Mike has been taking jobs in nyc, searching for his lost twin. A chance encounter with a blonde woman who steals his heart helps him find him.

---------------

Seventeen years, ten months, 18 days.

Mike had lived out of the city longer than in it. Rochester was as close as he’d gotten in foster care, but work had dragged him through occasionally, and frankly he was grateful for it.

He’d told himself seventeen years ago that he’d get back.

So here he was, reflecting on life outside the cell of a guy screaming bloody murder.

Dude was a bot-trafficker.

The shit made some serious dough, Mike had seen it himself. But you know what else made some serious dough? Bounty hunting. I.e. Catching the people who got pissed off about other people makin’ some serious dough.

These days, they were all bot-traffickers. Mike could barely remember a time when he was chasing jewel thieves and counterfeiters down alleys anymore. It was all bot-this and bot-that—which, to be fair, was kind of the same thing as a jewel thief.

Property was where the real money was at. And bots? Hoo boy, the best kind could cost a penthouse.

Mike thought it was good for them that they had no idea how much they were worth. He found it kinda sweet if he was honest. This screamin’ bot dude’s collection of androids were all tucked up against each other in the other room, performing ‘maintenance’ on each other like a pile of cats. They were community-minded, bless ‘em. It made Mike smile a little bit.

Of course, so did the paycheck.

Yeah, the paycheck helped, too.

 --

 He got a job for the city. He took it without asking too many questions.

It didn’t matter how much city jobs paid, Mike always went ready for a double-shift there.

The last time he’d seen Matt had been when their social workers had untangled their hands at St. Agnes. Both of them had been wailing like toddlers, like they had been in front of Dad’s casket.

Up until that point, everyone had assured them that they’d be kept together—that no one was going to try to separate them. They were twins. People would understand that you couldn’t just take the one and leave the other. They had an unbreakable and psychic bond, clearly.

But then one day the social worker hadn’t answered Matt’s question when he’d asked about it again, seeking reassurance.

Mike’s stomach had dropped then. And sure enough, the next thing they knew, people were throwing around words like ‘specialty care’ and ‘high-risk’ and ‘better in the long-run.’

Mike had gone to a foster home screaming and fighting in the back of a sedan. Matty stayed behind, allegedly to be placed in some kind of group home with more ‘supportive’ care.

That was seventeen years ago--almost eighteen years ago.

Mike only knew what Matt looked like these days because he shaved every morning in the bathroom mirror. But, he told himself, not for much longer.

He hadn’t become a bounty hunter for the looks. He’d done it for the money and the job experience. Could he track a criminal? Hell yeah. He’d been one. He knew how they thought. More importantly: could he track a brother?

He could, actually. He was a Murdock; he knew how they thought.

 --

 The job in the city was whatever. Took half an hour and a big smile to corner the gal like a rat. She went to the highest bidder; Mike went back out on the prowl.

Chances were that Matt would be drawn to Hell’s Kitchen. And chances were that he would be searching for Mike as Mike was for him. He was an idealist like that. Like Mike.

Awwww. Old habits die hard.

 --

 Hell’s Kitchen had changed over the years, but it still felt like home when Mike put a foot in the boundaries. He knew these stoops and all these torn posters. He knew that skyline and that raggedy flag pole.

The names on the businesses changed—some got new lights, some got new windows, but all in all, the feel was still there.

 --

 He set out to find Matt in the old, old haunts. Stopped by the church. The old kids’ home. They still hadn’t seen him, no, Mike. Sorry, my son.

He took a waltz down memory lane by the docks.

He found the greasiest looking coffee shop he could and sat at a sticky table, people-watching through the huge half-wall windows for about an hour.

Nothin’ yet.

His coffee was cold when he left.

  --

He ran into a girl at a bar that night under green and red neon lights. They danced close. She told him he reminded her of someone she knew, and Mike thought that that was just a lovely coincidence, sugar, wasn’t it?

He invited her to his hotel room. She accepted.

He woke up to waves of amber grain strewn across this pillow, sticking to his lips, and the smell of something powdery and floral in the endless line of this lady’s neck.

God, she was like a swan. Mike ought to buy her breakfast.

He did because he was a gentleman. He left to go grab a sandwich from the bodega outside but came back to find the bed and the room empty. There was a little note on the pad next to the bed that said ‘thanks, handsome’ with a smile face next to it and a number.

He eased himself down on to the bed and stuffed a sandwich in his mouth to grin around.

  --

Her name was Karen.

It wasn’t their last night. Mike saw her when she was in the city and they had a well-worn routine after a few months.

Every time, a new bar, a new club, a new drink. But the same dance and then the same chase and collapse.

She told him nothing about herself, and he loved that about her. She passed fingers through his hair. She trailed them across his jaw, bristly stubble or no.

And then the next morning, she was gone, and Mike was sighin’ like a blue bird in spring.

 --

 Valentine’s Day found Mike in the city. He didn’t delude himself with thinking that Karen was available—he wasn’t that full of it.

But he did think that even a lady as lovely and possibly taken as Karen deserved a bouquet of flowers from a ‘friend.’ So he took a meander down to a wholesaler and chatted up one of the makers until a collection of spring tulips graced by baby’s breath found their way into his hands.

Karen, he suspected, worked somewhere in an office. Her ever-present, practical pencil skirt said so, and the way that she frequented Josie’s told him that she lived in the area around 9th and 52nd.

It wasn’t hard to snoop. It wasn’t hard to trawl through the local business websites in that area, peeking at staff pages until low and behold, the golden grail herself appeared smiling on try number 7.

He smiled back at her photo and went back to get the name of the place and the address only to pause in his tracks.

Nelson & Murdock.

Karen worked at a law firm called Nelson & Murdock.

Huh.

Well. Good for that Murdock. Mike hoped he was out when he brought these flowers in.

 --

 The firm was dinky and crammed up two flights of stairs across from an orthodontist’s office. Mike pitied Karen for having to spend her days watching droves of traumatized middle schoolers leave that place with wires crammed in their faces. The flowers even looked like they were wilting in the hallway.

Mike gave them a pep talk on his way to the door.

He knocked but no one answered, so he turned the knob and a handful of people where sat looking nervous in the waiting area. The front desk was empty. Abandoned.

Oh, Karen.

Ever at work like you are at play.

Mike made his way over the desk and caught sight of a familiar fluffy little ball on a keychain at the edge of the desk.

It was adorable.

He found a scrap of paper by the phone, reached over and snagged it and a pen to leave a little love note when he felt a tug at his elbow.

He forced down the irritation and turned back with a smile. An older lady with huge bifocals squinted at him.

“Mr. Murdock,” she said. “I’ve got to go move my car. Don’t you give up my place, you hear?”

Mike forced himself to hold his smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, madam.”

Murdock must have looked smooth as hell for Mike to have been mistaken for him.

The lady squinted left, right, and center, then scoffed and pinched his arm.

“Cheeky boy,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She left.

Mike’s brain short-circuited for another few seconds before declaring that whole situation unresolvable, bizarre, and emphatically not his problem. Sorry Nana. Go to the back of the line like everyone else.

He went back to writing his card.

“Matt?”

He didn’t mean to look up. It was a reflex, man. It came with the twin-territory, and this time it brought a moment of panic as Karen’s brow dropped stormily and her fists found her hips.

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling you all morning?” she demanded.

Mike’s palms started sweating.

Did Karen? Not? Recognize him?

Had he misread this whole love affair? Or maybe it was the daylight that was confusing her?

It had to be the daylight, right?

“Matt,” Karen said, irate as could be in that pretty blue and white top. “Don’t just stand there. Say something.”

Ahahahahahaha.

Too close. Too much.

“MATT.”

Out we go, back to the hovel from which we came.

  ---

He breathed out hard in the street below and turned back to look up at the window of Nelson & Murdock. It was flung open and he didn’t give Karen the opportunity to get her nose out of it. He hurried off into the crowd, ducking and squirming until he was sure that he was good and gone from sight.

Then he found an alley to clutch at his heart in.

It had been years since someone had called him Matt. Sometimes he took the name on as a false one, when working for especially shitty shit-heads. But Karen??

Mike was positive he’d introduced himself as Mike. ‘Michael’ but more like Costello than Abbott, he’d said. Karen had laughed.

What the fuck, man? What the fuck?

He looked at the flowers in his hand.

A waste.

Hhhng. Alright, well. There was for sure to be someone needing cheering up at a bar somewhere. Might as well spare them for the Singles Awareness Gigs sure to be happening soon.

  ---

He ended up at Josie’s because he always ended up at Josie’s, but this time with barely anyone in the place at 3pm on Valentine’s Day, she actually noticed him and gave him an eyebrow. He chose to ignore it in order to wallow in self-pity and raised his glass to his lips.

It didn’t make it.

He stared in stunned silence at the hand suddenly covering his glass.

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, pal,” Josie said.

Mike gaped at her in shock.

“I? Paid for this?” he said.

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Josie said. “My bad. I thought you were someone else.”

Someone else?

Someone—

WAIT.

“Someone else? Does someone who looks like me come here?” Mike blurted out with zero grace before he could stop himself. “Does he—do you know his name? Is he—does he—”

Josie frowned hard at him.

“You’re not Matt,” she said after a long moment. “I always thought you were Matt.”

Matt!!

Matty!! MATT. You little shit. You perfect, darling, little shit. Out here, comin’ to Josie’s like a chump—possible alcoholic Matt!

Okay, wait, roll that one back—one problem at a time.

“He’s my brother. I’ve been looking for him for eighteen years, we were separated in foster care—do you know where he lives?” Mike asked with no filter to be seen for miles.

Was it professional of him?

No.

But were hugs at airports ever professional? Exactly. Get off his case.

He beamed wide at Josie, but her face did not reciprocate the gesture. Actually, it seemed to be doing the opposite and that made this little squirming feeling start up in Mike’s gut.

“Christ,” Josie said. “I’m so sorry, man.”

Wh-what?

“You’re gonna need a double.”

What did that mean?

“Take this.”

No. No, what did that mean?

“Take the shot, kid. Trust me. You’re gonna need it.”

  ---

No.

Just.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Josie rubbed her fingernails against her cheek and sighed.

“His owner brings him along,” she said. “Lets him work at their law firm with him—he’s made the papers, sure, but you know. It’s all kind of colored by the fact that he can’t really do shit without permission.”

Mike rolled the tumbler in his hand around.

Nelson, eh? So called ‘owner’ of the android called Matthew Michael Murdock.

Ahahahaha.

Get ready to die, motherfucker.

“But he tries to drink—Matt does,” Mike felt himself say.

Josie didn’t want to look at him.

“Sometimes, it’s like he forgets he’s a droid,” she said. “Usually, he’s got someone with him to keep him out of trouble.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Josie said. “It’s a load of bull.”

FUCK.

He set the tumbler down.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“It’s on the house,” Josie said. “Best of luck.”

Yeah.

Thanks.

  ---

Matty was—

Matty was—

Mike made it back to his hotel room before sinking to his knees by the bed. God had never heeded his prayers before, but things were different now.

Matty couldn’t pray for the both of them anymore. He was—He was--

Mike had to—

God, please.

Please. Give him back. What once was lost had to be found.

What once was lost, God.

Mike had lost him.

He’d lost him forever.

Give him back.

 ---

 He typed Matt’s name into the search engine on his phone and made it through one whole article before he was kneeling before a much harder, much more porcelain altar.

He tried again in the bathroom this time, sat on the floor with his back against the tub.

The bot that someone had made out of Matty looked so sweet. Like Mike, but softer in the cheeks. Younger. Forever 22 or something close to it.

He was still blind, despite all his other modifications and he was a little famous in the field of robotics. Not that the bot appeared to care. The articles claimed that the bot had recovered and retained memories prior to what they kept calling his ‘transition.’

What they meant was when he’d been transformed into a human weapon. An inhuman weapon.

Matty, I’m so sorry.

 ---

 There was only so much self-pity a man could wallow in before his ass started to fall asleep. But more than that, Mike was a Murdock. The tingling in his limbs was lost to the ever-increasing roar of fire in his ears.

That bastard. That bastard lawyer.

Taking Matt after everything he’d been through and turning him into some prop to be used as a showpiece in a grand legal theatre.

Fuck no. Fuck that.

Mike wasn’t fucking this up twice.

 ---

 Nelson & Murdock was closed by the time Mike once again found himself outside its doors. He stared at the sign’s heavy black letters and gave in to the devil raging, hot, underneath the skin of his chest.

He left the shattered doorglass on the ground as he made his way to the opposite stairwell.

 ---

 Karen.

  ---

She lived nearby 9th and 52nd. She was probably going home to her handsome hubby, who’d shower her in chocolate and wine and flowers. But on the way, she’d make a stop. She was a working gal. She wouldn’t have had time to pick up a gift in return before her shift started.

Mike found her at Walgreens, talking on the phone to someone while she petted every teddy bear on the rack in front of her.

He didn’t feel sorry.

She didn’t scream when his hand found her face. He didn’t give her the chance.

  ---

He ditched the hat in the back storeroom of Walgreens and took Karen right through to the loading dock. She thrashed hard.

Mike could barely feel the movement. He was on the lookout for eyes.

An elbow found his ribs and a foot his toes before he got them far enough from view that he could let her go to readjust his grip, and when he did, he got her against a wall, panting.

This lady was tough. But in a flash, she mouth dropped open and her wrists went limp in his grip.

“Mike?” she asked after a second. “Is that you? What are you doing here? Why are you—”

“Where. Is. My brother?” Mike cut her off.

Karen recoiled until her head hit the bricks behind her.

“Your—”

“My brother Matthew,” Mike snapped.

The rush of traffic settled into the silence.

“Oh my god,” Karen whispered. “He’s your brother?”

“Yes. He is, as a matter of fact, and whatever you think you’re doing to him, I will do to you and that fucking lawyer ten times worse,” Mike said. “So you’re going to help me or I’m going to—”

“I knew I knew you.”

He felt himself go stiff.

“Matt talks like you,” Karen said softly. “Just like you.”

Wh—he did?

Karen’s fingers brushed the tops of Mike’s hands. They were cold.

“Mike,” she whispered, sounding for all the world like she was on the verge of tears, “He’s going to be so happy to see you.”

Wh—she’d—she’d take him to Matt?

“Of course,” Karen said. “He’s one of my best friends.”

They were friends? How were they friends? Was this a sick joke?

“No. It’s not. I met him years ago it’s just—I didn’t realize you were—okay, there’s just one problem,” Karen said.

 ---

 Uh?

“Sensory input! Greater than! Processing—PROCESSING—processing—”

“Matty,” Franklin Nelson said with both of his hands out in front of him. “I see that we are very excited.”

“SENSORY INPUT—”

“And I love your enthusiasm, and I know you love your enthusiasm,” Nelson continued. “But if you don’t settle down the tiniest fraction of an inch, you’re going to blow a fuse and—”

“SEN—sen-S-S-SEN—”

Uh?

“This is excited,” Karen explained while Nelson wrestled Matt into sitting for the second time since Mike had arrived at the door.

This was excited?

“He’s normally much more in tune with himself,” Karen said. “But I think you’ve jumpstarted some shit that even his additional processing power isn’t enough for.”

Additional what now?

“It’s a long story,” Karen said over the saddest sound that Mike had ever heard.

They both looked over to where Nelson had successfully gotten Matt back to sitting and was now coaching him through whatever the bot-equivalent of breathing exercises were.

“How long?” Mike asked.

Karen’s blue eyes pitied him.

 ---

 Okay, okay, okay. So. Nelson? Not a threat. Definitely a boon.

Matty?

Hng.

Heavy.

“I’ve literally never seen him this excited,” Nelson said. “And I’ve known him for seven years.”

No shit?

“No shit, we met at Columbia,” Nelson sighed. “I’m sorry about this.”

It was fine. Mike deserved this. Probably.

Jesus, what the fuck had they replaced Matt’s muscle’s with? How was he this warm and this heavy and not human all at the same time.

He’d seemed to have decided that Mike needed a full-body hug and while the first ten seconds had been cry-worthy, the last minute or so was getting a little suffocating.

“Matt, let him go,” Nelson pleaded. “He can’t breathe, bud. He’s gotta breathe, he’s not like you—”

“Subject: Mike. Michael Murdock,” Matt said brightly, scrambling off Mike out of no-fucking-where and getting way too far into Nelson’s face.

“Mike, yeah, you said,” Nelson said.

“Mike. Born October 21—”

“I get it. He’s your twin.”

“—at Metropolitan General Hospital at 11:32pm—”

“Matt,  you’re info-dumping friend, we don’t need this. We believe you. Don’t give me his social. Don’t—”

“—Social Security number 6—”

“MATT. End request. End search term. Exit page.”

Uh?

“He did this with the DA last week when he got too riled up,” Karen said sympathetically. “We have no clue where he finds it or better yet, where he even stores it.”

“—my brother, FOGGY.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ see it, man. It’s before mine very own eyes. Y’all are identical. It’s weird.”

“I missed him.”

“Tell that to him then. Stop touching me, ew. No. Go douse him with your weird fuckin’ eye fluid—atta boy, good job—NO. NO CLIMBING.”

Mike…was not prepared for the care and keeping of Bot-Matt. He had to admit that now. All those plans of snatching Matt out of the hands of these evil, evil people were breaking up into little fragments of puzzle pieces and he’d never felt more like shit because god.

He was supposed to look after his brother, wasn’t he?

Wasn’t he?

“I’m so sorry about this,” Franklin Nelson said with Matt leaning almost completely out of his grip and making that horrible sad noise again. “But I think I’m gonna need to cool him down a bit.”

 ---

 Mike couldn’t stop rubbing at his face.

Matt was sprawled out across Nelson’s bed like he was sleeping in the sunlight. The wires plugged into the back of his neck slipped off the edge of the bed and led all the way to a laptop that was just about sweating with how hard it was working.

From the side, it looked like he was human. Absolutely, unequivocally human.

Younger than Mike now, though. Permanently halted at 24 years old. No wonder Karen hadn’t recognized Mike early on. Matty’s jaw was still slim where Mike’s had hardened square like Dad’s. The only facial hair he had was in his eyebrows and eyelashes—there was no reason to add stubble to a bot. It was just more maintenance. Just another aesthetic modification.

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

Mike turned to Nelson.

He didn’t look or talk like a single one of the bot traffickers than Mike had dragged in from the cold—and he’d done the full range of them, from the cackling madhatters to the cooing, babytalkers to the silent so-called geniuses. Nelson exhibited only exasperation.

The story that Karen told about his and her early encounters with Matt made it seem like Nelson honestly considered Matt to be human, like him. Like all of them.

“You helped him,” Mike said quietly.

“If I’d have known that he had you, then I would have helped him find you sooner,” Nelson said. “But I thought he was on his own. He never mentioned anyone else. I should have asked.”

No. No, that was—That was okay, somehow.

“We got separated a lifetime ago,” Mike said. “People thought that I’d be easier to adopt. And clearly he had other things going on.”

Nelson winced.

“That’s shit,” he said.

“And wrong,” Mike sighed. “I don’t even know what to do now. I can’t take care of him like this. I don’t know the first thing about droid maintenance or computers.”

Nelson considered him.

“Well, the good news is that you don’t have to—take care of him, I mean,” he said. “Matt takes care of himself. He’s actually really good at it when he’s not blowin’ his top about some damn thing. You’ll see when he wakes up. And on top of that, he’s already got a mechanic, so when something goes wrong that he can’t fix, we take him to Parker and he does the heavy lifting there.”

Mike swallowed.

“You guys really have it worked out,” he realized.

Nelson sighed.

“Like I said. I’ve known him for seven years. We’ve lived together ever since.”

Woah. Wait. What now?

Nelson turned exhausted eyes onto him.

“I co-signed for his loft, but he just comes and spends all his time here when he’s not out smashing faces. Claims my bed. Steals all the sun spots. Makes me only shit coffee in return.”

He—Matt—Matt had his own apartment? He could do that?

“Sure? Why not? He owns half the firm, too,” Nelson said. “I mean, they wouldn’t let me put it in his name, technically. So it’s through a wildly complicated, uh—let’s call it a ‘thing’ for simplicity’s sake. But yeah. If anything happens to me, full ownership goes to him. But as far as we’re concerned, it’s half and half. The only thing Matt can’t do is practice law on his own, so we have to double-team pretty much every case.”

Mike needed to sit down.

“Oh, for sure. Just not there. I’d recommend out of range, here. Sit here,” Nelson said.

 ---

 Matt woke up when Karen snuck around the bed to remove the wires from his neck. He scrambled up and fell right over the side of the bed onto Karen’s feet.

She swore. He groaned. Nelson pointedly did not come back into the room.

This time, though, when Matt got back up, Karen pulled him in the direction of Mike and took his wrist. She held out a hand for Mike.

Mike’s heart fluttered.

He gave it to her and Karen put his hand directly in Matt’s palm.

There was silence.

“Mikey,” Matt said after a long moment.

Mike’s eyes started burning.

“You came for me,” Matt said.

Mike couldn’t make his throat work. It took two goes to find his voice.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I sure did.”

“You ain’t singin’, though,” Matt pointed out. “Why aren’t you singin’?”

Because he was cryin’, man. God, give a guy a break.

“Matty, what did they do to you?” he asked.

Matt made a strange sound as he mulled over the question. A kind of whirring noise.

“Made me into a droid, dumbass,” he said.

Mike laughed before he could stop himself.

“Can I have a non-lethal hug?” he asked.

Matt whirred.

“No promises,” he said.

 ----

[thecrownnet]

October 3, 2020

Series four of The Crown takes on Princess Diana: exclusive pictures and interviews Charles has found a wife, Andy’s got a racy new girlfriend and Thatcher’s coming for tea... Megan Agnew gets an exclusive tour behind the scenes of the most wild and lavish series yet

Lasers. That’s what helped Emma Corrin understand Princess Diana in the latest series of The Crown. When the cameras were rolling, she imagined that lasers were pointing at her, as if she were in a spy film or a bank heist drama. It was her way of imagining hundreds of people staring right at her. Lasers helped her with the iconic Diana head tilt. She pretended she was shying away from them.

Corrin could also draw on her own trajectory as a 24-year-old actress. Before landing her part in The Crown, she was an unknown. Suddenly “there’s a huge amount of pressure”, she says.

When I visit the set at Winchester Cathedral, which is pretending to be St Paul’s, the paparazzi arrive to catch Corrin pretending to be Diana. She’s dressed in a replica of the outfit they papped at the actual royal wedding rehearsal almost 40 years ago. Every time she moves between buildings and trailers, Corrin has to be shielded with umbrellas. Life imitates art imitates life.

Almost every person Corrin has spoken to since getting the role has their own “Diana moment” — they might once have waved at her car in the street, been a pupil at a school she visited or knew someone who sat next to her at a dinner. Diana was one of the first celebrities to whom people laid claim. “Everyone has this ownership,” says Corrin. She was, and still is, the People’s Princess. But Corrin is trying not to think too much about it. Public expectation has been “overwhelming since the beginning”, she says. She wants to do Diana “proud”. “I know that’s strange and cheesy, but I feel like I know her.”

Emma Corrin as Princess Diana/ NETFLIX

The first television series of The Crown, which aired in 2016, was at the time the most expensive in history. Each series since has been estimated to have cost upwards of £50 million. The first two covered the first decade of Elizabeth II’s rule to wide acclaim, but series three — in which Her Majesty Claire Foy was succeeded by Olivia Colman — had mixed reviews. “The jewel in Netflix’s tiara has lost its shine,” said one. It was “okay”, said another.

Now, with series four’s reported £100 million budget eclipsing the Queen’s own sovereign grant last year of £82.2 million, The Crown is barrelling straight into the Eighties era of celebrity glamour and modern party politics grit. Peter Morgan, the show’s creator, is taking on two of the most controversial public figures of the past 50 years: Princess Diana and Margaret Thatcher. “The word ‘iconic’ is overused, but in the case of these two women quite justified,” Morgan says. Both have passionate fans and detractors. “Writing them was a bit of a high-wire act, but it was exhilarating.”

We meet Diana as a teenager, scampering around her huge family home in Northamptonshire. She is young and apologetic. The Prince of Wales, at that time dating her eldest sister, is rather distracted. A number of years later, Diana is leaving her relatively modest flat in Earls Court and her job as a nursery school assistant to move into Clarence House — but finds herself in solitude. Bored and lonely, 19-year-old Diana rollerskates down corridors to Duran Duran and sits all by herself in her chamber. One night, after finding out about Prince Charles’s affair with Camilla Parker Bowles, she gorges on puddings and makes herself vomit them back up.

Behind the scenes: the latest series of The Crown/ NETFLIX

*Spoilers*

It is a dark moment that Corrin wanted to get right. She listened to real-life accounts of people who had suffered from bulimia and talked with experts from the eating disorder charity Beat. Diana herself said that it was the most “discreet” way of harming herself: “Everyone in the family knew about the bulimia,” she said in recordings from the 1990s later made into a Channel 4 documentary.

“Drawing on my experience,” says Corrin, “not that I’ve experienced that kind of self-harm, but mental health in general, it can lead you down a very dark path when you’re struggling to cope, when things feel out of control. Diana very much doesn’t have the love and comfort and attention she needs from the man she loves or the family, who aren’t really acting as a family to her. There is a build-up of emotion she can’t deal with and making herself sick is a way of taking back control.”

When Josh O’Connor, who plays the Prince of Wales, first read the script for this series he thought: “Oh God, how can Charles be like that to Diana? But he feels wronged. He feels like she has an addiction to the spotlight,” he says. “I have to feel sympathy for him in that world. This is a family who have an intense inability to be emotional and he has inherited that awkwardness. In this series there’s an awful lot of Charles trying to explain himself and not being allowed to. He’s trying to say that if he can be with Camilla, then at least two of the three people can be happy. As it is, there’s three miserable people.”

The Crown works differently to other shows in that the “writers’ room” is not made up of writers but researchers, who constantly feed back to Morgan, the king of The Crown. It means that for each word eventually spoken on film, there are pages and pages of briefing notes. Annie Sulzberger, head of research, started this series by hiring a young team. “I wanted people who did not grow up believing one or the other [Diana and Thatcher],” she says. “You have to be curious enough and ignorant enough, I suppose, to write the kind of work we need.”

This series will span the Thatcher years — 1979 to 1990 — and will include the assassination of Charles’s great-uncle, Lord Mountbatten, by the IRA, Charles and Diana’s wedding, and the Falklands War. Once the team has laid out a timeline, Morgan picks out the events he wants to feature. The research team starts to hone in on each, getting increasingly “micro” in their investigations. In the making of this series, one of the team spent two weeks researching the label on a bottle of wine from which a character briefly swigs.

Dress rehearsal: Josh O’Connor and Emma Corrin act out Charles and Diana’s wedding run-through/ NETFLIX

As the show has progressed, the fact-checking work has multiplied, thanks to the tabloid journalism of the 1980s. “It’s not just about words being printed,” Sulzberger says, “but who wrote it. Diana will become very close with a journalist called Richard Kay and feed him information, and Charles’s team will do the same. So you need to start unpicking the biographies of all the writers in order to know that what you’re doing has some objectivity.”

Did the team speak to any of Diana’s family or friends? “No.” Do the producers give any material to the Palace to see beforehand? “No. We have no connection to them that would result in editorial shifts. These are real people, these are real stories and we are filling in the moments that aren’t recorded — private conversations, moments of reflection, philosophical moments.”

When I ask Morgan if it’s true that he meets high-ranking courtiers four times a year, he is keen to clear up that he doesn’t. “I have never had any discussions with anyone actively working at the Palace,” he says. “The two worlds, the royal household and The Crown, exist in a world of mutual deniability, which I’m sure is every bit as important to them as it is to us.”

Corrin, though, did speak to Patrick Jephson, Diana’s private secretary, who appears as a fictionalised character in this series. “I got a sense of her joy from him,” Corrin says. “He said she was so naturally happy. When she joined the royal family, she had come from living with flatmates in Earls Court and she was a very normal girl. Patrick said she was still full of that girlish silliness, very down to earth.”

The couple themselves at the real thing in 1981 MIKE LLOYD/SHUTTERSTOCK/REX

The executive producer Suzanne Mackie says that “particularly now” The Crown team feels a sense of responsibility “to living people, people’s children, people’s parents. Obviously what we don’t do is engage on a fact level with the royal family. We have a tacit understanding that they need distance from us and we need distance from them.”

It is a cold day in January and I am watching Charles and Diana’s wedding rehearsal in Winchester. About 75 per cent of the show is filmed on location around the world, over the course of seven months. The rest is filmed at the show’s base, Elstree Studios, just north of London.

Today in Winchester Cathedral there is a crew of 78 and a cast of almost 200. The sight is as epic as the show’s budget would suggest. Between takes, Corrin sits on the stone steps by the altar, scrolling on her iPhone with one hand and biting her fingernails on the other. Even before the clapperboard snaps shut, the resemblance between her and the princess is uncanny.

Sidonie Roberts, head buyer and assistant costume designer, has a timeline of photos of Diana covering the wall of her studio at Elstree. Roberts is devoted to the cause. She travels to Paris to buy buttons from the same shop the Queen’s dressmaker uses (it sells more than 30,000 types of button) and to Soho to rummage in basements for fabric. Last year she was in a Bangladeshi fabric shop in Brick Lane, east London, when she saw a roll of material right on the very top shelf. “It was still in its plastic, but I just knew — that’s Diana’s colour,” Roberts says. She got a ladder, climbed to the top, pulled down the fabric and bought it for £3.50 a metre. When Roberts got back to the studio at Elstree, she unrolled it and saw a stamp at the bottom: “The Lady Diana Collection, made in Japan.” Roberts did some research. It was real silk, from a collection made in the princess’s honour.

In the corner of the studio an assistant is gluing tiny pearls to Diana’s flat wedding shoes. She has been decorating them, exactly like the originals, for a day and a half. “We’ve had a long conversation about the size of those pearls,” says Roberts. David and Elizabeth Emanuel, who designed Diana’s original wedding dress, donated patterns to the show, which were used to make the new version. With its 25ft train, it took ten people to get Corrin into the dress. In the show it is seen in full, and only from behind, for no more than 15 seconds.

Paying their respects: Olivia Colman as the Queen and the rest of the royal family at the funeral of Lord Mountbatten/ NETFLIX

Corrin is masterful at inhabiting Diana’s coyness — hunching her shoulders towards her ears as she walks, the smirk, her intonation. Diana’s voice was the “polar opposite” of the royals’, says William Conacher, The Crown’s dialect coach. “She moved her jaw twice as much, so her voice was more forward, open, easier to access, and I don’t think it’s especially revelatory to suggest accessibility was her shtick,” he says. “She used a minor key that made her seem vulnerable. Despite the Queen’s and Prince Charles’s accents being ‘stiffer’ to listen to, I think it comes entirely naturally, whereas I find Diana’s voice more studied. I think she spoke to have an effect.”

What sort of research did Colman do for series four’s Queen? “Yeah, I don’t do research,” she says when we speak on the phone in the summer. “The research team on The Crown is a bit like the British Library. It’s extraordinary, and when they kick in, your computer can’t really cope with the amount of stuff they send you.” Was there something in particular that the team sent her that made things click? “No.” There is a longish silence. It seems Colman’s royal duty is waning. “They’ve got every image and film of the Queen ever made. I’ve also got three kids, so I can’t spend all my time going through all of it.”

As she wraps up a second series of The Crown — Imelda Staunton will take over for five and six — Colman knows that she would “really not like” to have the Queen’s job. “There are very few people who are forced into a job and have no choice about it,” she says. “She’s done it with dignity, for decades, bless her. It’s amazing.”

The funeral of Lord Mountbatten took place in 1979 BENTLEY ARCHIVE/POPPERFOTO/GETTY

If there were rumours of Elizabeth II being unhappy about the last series of The Crown, I can’t imagine she’ll be too chuffed about this one. Series four’s Queen is colder and more distant, and the effects of her duty on her children more obvious: Charles is heavy with melancholy, Anne feels unheard, Edward is portrayed as a spoilt bully and Andrew is dangerously arrogant.

Speaking of Andrew, there is a subtle nod towards recent events. At one point the prince discusses a young American actress he is dating. The actress had recently played a 17-year-old who must entertain several “old predators who seduce the vulnerable, helpless young Emily”. The real prince dated the actress Koo Stark in 1981, who had starred in The Awakening of Emily, which had a near-identical plot.

In series four, the pivotal relationship between the Queen and Margaret Thatcher begins well. They are respectful of one another as no-nonsense working mothers, but tensions arise — not least, over tea etiquette at Balmoral.

In preparation for her role as the Iron Lady, Gillian Anderson met Charles Moore, Thatcher’s biographer, as well as secretaries who worked with her. “The only way for me to go about sitting inside of her was to find the reason behind her actions — growing up, what she learnt from her father, how much she truly believed that she was the answer and as long as we all took the sour medicine now we’d be able to turn around this country, completely shutting her eyes to the people that she was turning out on the street.”

Anderson eventually “settled into” the body of Thatcher. “She walked very fast, always up ahead,” Anderson says. “She would power forward in front of presidents. With [Ronald] Reagan she would supposedly be alongside him, but was walking ahead. Always walking ahead of [husband] Denis, telling him to catch up.”

Thatcher’s barnet also features. In one scene she spends an asphyxiating four seconds hairspraying it in preparation for a showdown with the Queen. The hairdo took endless camera tests before Morgan was happy with it. “It essentially meant destroying it so it had an overprocessed ‘frothy’ quality,” says the hair and make-up designer Cate Hall. “To treat a wig so badly was against all of our instincts — they’re so expensive — but I’m grateful now that we went through the process with Peter, with him saying no, more, it’s not right, try again.”

Clash of the titans: Margaret Thatcher, played by Gillian Anderson, is filmed meeting the Queen, played by Olivia Colman, in a memorable scene from series four/ NETFLIX

Series five will have a whole new cast. Colman says she is “not the sort of person who keeps the shoes of a character they played 20 years ago”. But Helena Bonham Carter is going to miss Princess Margaret. “She does pop out [in everyday life],” she says. “The other day I was at some public event and there was the normal scramble of people and I just told them, ‘No, shut up.’ The finger came out, which is very her, and I said, ‘Shut up and wait. Don’t get hysterical.’ So I’ve got the bossy side of her.”

Originally Morgan said there would be two more series after this one. Then he changed his mind, describing series five as “the perfect time and place to stop”. Now there are two more again (“To do justice to the richness and complexity of the story,” he reneged). The show is creeping closer to the modern day. It is now said to be ending in the 2000s, spanning, perhaps, Charles and Diana’s divorce, the deaths of Diana, Margaret and the Queen Mother, the marriage of Charles and Camilla, and the teenage and twentysomething princes. “I want to end it close enough to present day to feel that we have completed a long journey and distant enough to feel historical,” says Morgan. “I have a specific incident in mind, but until I’ve actually written it and seen if it works, I can’t commit to discussing it.”

On set with Mackie, I mention Harry and Meghan. “Too often,” the couple posted on their Instagram page that month, “we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring.” Is it possible, I ask Mackie, for the royal family to humanise themselves while still justifying their existence as something mightier, more important, regal? “That’s where you go wrong, as a public figure, letting light in on the magic, especially as a monarch,” she replies. “You have to be an ideal. After years and years of that subjugation of self in order to put duty first, you, the essence of you, is buried somewhere. The Queen is a tiny little person inside many, many Russian dolls.”

Series four of The Crown is available on Netflix from November 15

[onestowatch]

Surfaces Is Bringing Their Happy Place to the Masses [Q&A]

Photo: Dan Franco

When Colin Padalecki met Forrest Frank on SoundCloud, back in 2016, they had no idea that their whimsical exchange of DMs would evolve into the brotherhood of a lifetime, an ever-growing discography, and a roster spot on one of the hottest independent record labels in the world—10K Projects. 

Since then, the two friends have formed a genre-bending band called Surfaces and an audiovisual world of neo-soul, beach-pop, reggae, and gospel music. Or better yet, an imaginary happy place, right smack-dab in the middle of “The Lone Star State,” where the two Texans make masterful R&B music with spoken-word lyricism that elevates positive thinking for the soul. 

All in all, the guys from Surfaces have been releasing music together for four years now. Thus, with each year comes a brand-new album from the hardworking duo. While Caribbean rhythms and heartwarming subject matter remain notable fixtures of their songwriting, another mainstay is the scenic artwork that’s accompanied every album release so far.

Each time that Padalecki creates an official album cover for Surfaces, it’s as if he’s giving their supporters a behind-the-scenes look at the way in which they find inspiration before a songwriting camp. In many instances, the artwork that he designs serves as a catalyst for the band’s recording sessions, because it sets the mood. His graphic illustrations of sunsets, beaches, and waterfronts augment the heartfelt stories that have been told for the duration of four albums now by his bandmate, Frank, whose lyrics and jazz-rap cadences always seem to carry a positive undertone. 

The meaning behind his uplifting words stem from a spiritual assertion that was instilled in him from a young age by his family. In fact, his band’s biggest hit to date was influenced by his faith. “When I think of the lyrics [from “Sunday Best”]... for me, personally, the only way I’ve been able to find that kind of complete stress-free lifestyle is through my relationship with God,” shares Frank. Of all the songs that have been penned by Surfaces over the past five years, none of the releases contain a single ounce of vulgarity in them. This is a very unique distinction for a secular band—especially one that is part of a record label that’s been home to some of the most popular rappers of the SoundCloud rap era. 

But nevertheless, their working relationship with their record label has actually enhanced their creativity. Because the company’s CEO has created a healthy environment for artistic expression, regardless of the genres his artists belong to. “I feel like Elliot [Grainge] runs a really tight family kind of shop. He doesn’t have a lot of artists on his roster, but he has a personal relationship with all of us and the other people we work with like Molly, Sam, and our managers. So, [signing with 10K Projects] just made sense,” shares Padalecki. “Elliot gave us full creative control, which is truly a blessing when it comes to something like a record deal. At any moment in time, we could just ask him to meet us for lunch and he cares enough about us on a personal level to go do that. He trusts in our decisions when it comes to song making, album choices, and everything. They’ve been nothing but supportive and we’ve been nothing but grateful for 10K, it’s almost like a family.” 

Indeed, a stress-free creative space, cathartic chorus lines, and the full support of 10K Projects have proven to be key components in a winning formula that’s yielded multi-platinum successes for Surfaces. So, as the old adage goes: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Which means when it comes to dropping new music, the guys are sticking to what works. 

When they made their best-selling album to date, Where The Light Is, they recorded the tracks during the day, while the sun was out at Frank’s boat house to perfectly capture a positive and happy mood. Catching a vibe in a sunny environment has proven to be tried-and-true method for the band and a blueprint that Colin Padalecki wanted to follow during the making of their latest album, Pacifico. 

“We rented a house in Malibu for about a half a month. It was kind of like this creative camp that we set up and we pretty much woke up every single day in this really gorgeous house with this really gorgeous view of the beach line of Malibu and the sunset peaking over the mountains every single day,” says the multi-instrumentalist. “It was just nice to not have to worry about anything with Forrest, his wife, and our creative collaborator Conrad [Public Library Commute]. Nothing felt forced… we were just trying to capture the essence of that trip. The whole album pretty much describes that vacation of ours. And we just tried to capture all aspects of it through sonics.” 

On April 9, Surfaces introduced their fourth studio album to the world with the lead single called “Wave of You.” It’s a vibey beach-pop track that explores the depths of a romantic relationship through the eyes of Frank. It also displays his willingness to expose his own real-life experiences. “I think it’s really powerful. A relationship can be so powerful and when you’re really drawn to someone it’s like the tide pulling you into the wave. It’s awesome, but it’s also really fragile and dangerous,” says Frank.

Upon the release of two follow-up singles to “Wave of You,” Surfaces officially dropped Pacifico on June 25. The new album arrives on the heels of one of the most challenging time periods this world has ever seen. In the wake of a global pandemic, a little bit of sunshine is exactly what the the world needs. Pacifico, fittingly, is a breath of fresh air for their supporters and a fitting soundtrack for the beginning of summer after nearly a year-and-a-half of worldwide shutdowns. 

One of the main aspects of this album that displays the band’s growth as musicians are the amount of artist features present. Before the release of Pacifico, the only collaboration they ever published was “Learn To Fly” with Elton John. Their collaborative effort with the Rock & Roll Hall of Famer was an absolute banger, but it was never officially featured on an album by Surfaces. Instead, it was published as a one-off single. But this time around, the group teamed up with four collaborators: Public Library Commute, Salam Ilese, Xavier Omär and Quinn XCII. 

Their contributions to Pacifico have added a whole new element to this delightful collection of sun-soaked music. In fact, the story of how they ended up recording their collaboration with Omär in person is almost as compelling as the story of how the co-founders met each other. “We’d been huge fans [of Xavier Omär] ever since the SoundCloud days. We had a second verse open [for “Come Around”]. So, we DM’d him and said, ‘Yo what’s up! We’re huge fans!’ He said he was a big fan of ours too. So, we told him that we’d love to link up and talk about music because we have a song that he might like,” recounts Frank. “Then he said, ‘Oh cool, but the only thing is, I don’t live in L.A., I live in San Antonio.’ And we were like, ‘Yo, Colin lives in San Antonio (laughs)! So, we basically drove down the street and recorded with him.” It’s a fond memory of their first encounter with one of their favorite musicians… and it’s strikingly similar to the way that Padalecki met Frank on SoundCloud about five years prior. 

“Hearing (Omar Xavier’s) melodies recorded at my house brought me back to my high school days of listening to Middle of Things,” says Padalecki. “It had a huge impact on me in high school. So, him coming over and hanging out with us like friends, getting lunch with us, and then getting to the music later was really special.” While collaborative efforts like “Come Around” and “On Time” have certainly added a new dimension to the songwriting and emotional depth of Surfaces, fans can rest assured that their trademark penchant for feel great grooves remain true all throughout Pacifico.

In just five years, the duo behind Surfaces has traveled all over the country. The last time they took the show on the road was during the “Warm Winter Tour” back in 2019. This August, they’ll hit the road again for a North American tour called the aptly titled “Good 2 Be Back Tour.” To the masses they’re a homegrown duo that never fails to bring light and positivity to the forefront of their music. But internally… they’re just two friends having the time of their lives. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s not every day that pop icons like Justin Bieber partake in a “Sunday Best” dance craze dedicated to you by your fans on TikTok. 

More importantly, it’s not every day a pop-rock band comes along and reminds us of Bill Withers, Hall & Oates, Beach Boys and Chance the Rapper all in one breath. “That’s pretty good (laughs). I like that,” confesses Frank when the unique comparison was brought to his attention. With the release of Pacifico, Surfaces is now four albums deep into a promising career in music. And to think, it all started with a litany of recording sessions at Padalecki’s college house in Texas. It appears as though the guys from Surfaces are just as good at building songs as they are at giving form to the happy place from which all of their songs originate.

Pacifico is available everywhere you can stream it. 

[georgemackayhey]

Rules For Falling In Love: #3

summary: In which George wants to get married. But… you’re not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: So sorry I've been MIA! Here's the news. There are only two chapters left of this fun little story. And something else is in the works for which I'll be posting a sneak peek of very soon (bet ya can't guess what it is!) I hope you're all still just as in love with this plot, though, because I know I am. Let me know your thoughts as always, dudes

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

"What the hell are you doing?" You hissed through your teeth at your very own reflection. You were dressed for any imaginable occasion. If folks noticed you waltzing down the street, they might assume you were on your way to lunch with friends. They might think you were headed to the market, or to the movies, or shopping around. But they most likely wouldn't imagine you were on your way to get married. But you were.

You perfected your lipgloss and fixed your hair, and when there was nothing left to primp, you stood there, still, waiting for the girl on the other side of the glass to reach through, grab your shoulders and shake some sense into your head. But she didn't.

///

"That's it? We're done?" You asked in a stunned breath. The cheery old fellow who'd walked you through the process of signing a bunch of papers and reciting a few promises smiled, but studied you for a beat before nodding.

"You're married, now. Congratulations!" He escorted you and your group toward the door, waving a bony hand from the entry before slamming the old wooden door shut, abandoning you in the massive marble halls.

"Oh, that's absolutely not it." George's sister whined. The girl yanked you and her brother out into the warm sunshine. She shoved some wildflowers in your hands, forced you to stand in place, and shoved her brother to your side. George draped an arm around your shoulder as you both grumbled for the girl to stop making such a fuss.

"Just think of all the things I was talked out of doing. The party I could have- no, should have thrown. Now smile!" She rose her phone camera and snapped a few shots, humming with satisfaction when she was decidedly finished. Bless her, she really did only want the best for the two of you. And you and George were due for some new photos besides the ones snapped of your forced smiles at the latest award show.

"Well, I forgot to bring cake as promised, but let me take you round the cafe uptown to kick off my stress eating. " Dean sighed as if someone was making him pitch the offer.

"Sounds like ya need it." You jested. Dean rolled his eyes and gave you a real, soft smile. George's sister left with a big wave and a dramatic congratulations.

Dean was excited to choose your celebratory treats himself, and was the first to dart inside the posh cafe when you arrived. You and George followed, laughing about how your friend had transformed into the classic "kid in a candy shop." You lost Dean to the winding line and moved to find some big comfy seats in the busy shop.

The reality of your latest achievement hadn't quite set in yet. George's laughter was such a familiar, comforting sound, as you settled beside him on some ridiculously oversized ottoman. Today was just... another day.

"Please tell me that what Dean just told me is a big fat joke." A familiar lilt pipped up from the other side of the paint chipped coffee table in front of you. George's agent was stood, slack-jawed with a big, whip cream filled to-go coffee in hand. How funny she happened to be here, you thought. Only her surprise greeting was much different from the times you'd bumped into each other and chatted in line at the markets, before.r

"It's nice to see you too, Donna." George laughed, watching as she set her drink down and moved to sit in the claw foot chair at your side. The woman reached for your hand in a flash, focusing on the ring you'd grown rather attached to over the week.

"Surprise?" You laughed, a twinge of worry settling in your stomach as the woman glanced up to you, eyes full of shock.

"Why on earth did you get married?" She asked in a slow squeak, turning to George as you drew your hand out of her clutch. "More importantly why haven't you told me?"

"Well, it's only just happened. Like half an hour ago." George looked to you, then back to his agent. Donna let out a laugh, and you understood her shock, but her reaction was a bit unnerving. She continued to ask a string of rhetorical questions, how, why, where, why, why?

That was about the time Dean emerged from the line that was now flooding out of the doors and around the building. Was it filling up in here, or was the place closing in on you? A nagging unease settled at the base of your lungs as George told Donna some of the things you'd discussed and what led you to signing some papers, together.

Your favorite third wheel plopped down a tray of little bite-sized cakes, decorated in different shades of pretty pastel icing. They reminded you of the macaroons George brought home from the last award show after-party, and never shared.

"Care to join in the celebration? Tea is on it's way." Dean spoke in Donna's direction before casting his gaze to you, sitting across the way.

"Unfortunately, I've got to get going, but I do wish we could continue discussing what the hell you two have gotten yourselves into." Donna stood, with a wavering smile, grabbing her condensation covered to-go coffee, and spinning toward the door to the tune of your crew's goodbyes.

You glanced down to the cakes Dean had picked out, as he piped up to explain their fillings and flavors. George reached over to place a hand on your knee, as he nodded along to his friend's excited dessert-themed rambles. All the worry that had sprouted at Donna's confusion was swiftly put at ease when you noticed the ring on George's finger. This was your decision, together. You'd talked it all the way through and back. Anyone else's worry over the matter didn't hold value over that fact.

When your tea came, you had managed to ask Dean about the girl he'd been seeing. The three of you noshed on divine desserts and listened to your friend gush over the girl he'd taken on a fourth date, just the night before last. His eyes sparkled and you couldn't help but smile when he paused to think up just how to describe his new beau. He was lucky to have found someone who brought a blush to his cheeks at the mention of their name. Hers, was Claire.

You'd been enraptured by Dean's rose-colored chatter, so much so that your phone's sudden rhythmic buzz in your pocket made you gasp aloud.

"Oh shit." You muttered, past a bite of cake. "We're gonna be late for that thing." You turned to George whose face lit up in recognition. He had an interview today, one for a late-night talk show that would be on air long after you'd settled in for the night.

George thanked his friend for the desserts and for being there today, for the both of you. You knew George meant it, you knew how important it was to him. But to hear his genuine appreciation in his goodbye to Dean made your heart lurch.

"I know I've been giving you both a hard time about this, and I'm still a bit confused by the whole thing, but honestly, I'm happy for you both. And I'm glad you let me come along today." Dean shrugged as you all stood to head your separate ways. Now your heart was a puddle, as you flung yourself to the fellow, wrapping him in a hug and thanking him for being too good a friend. You were lucky too, you figured.

///

It was almost actually funny how uncomfortable these things made George. He was so keen to be a movie star, in the most romantic sense, of course. He could go on for days (months, even, you suspected) about the magic of storytelling and all the lessons to be learned from his chosen career.

But promoting his works, promoting himself, wasn't something he was fond of in the very least bit. So once, you tagged along to some garish dinner party that was really just a competition for best dressed, in disguise. He mingled with the people he knew, and the people he was meant to know, trying with all his might to make genuine connections because if he'd failed to learn at least one person's life story on a night out, he considered the evening wasted. And when they asked about him, he'd get it over with in a flash before turning his attention to you, introducing you, asking you to tell that one story. And when you were left alone to await the next celebrity encounter George begged you with his hands clasped together to come along with him to all of the ridiculous Hollywood shindigs he was ever required to attend. And of course, you couldn't tell the boy no.

So tonight was another one of many. You went home, tossed on a dress, and spun out of the door again without a second to breathe. All your focus was spent reminding George that this would all be worth it in the end. How selling his latest film to millions of viewers would ensure the story he was so proud to have been a part of would effectively become dear to most everyone who tuned in to hear his interview.

When you crept through the studio doors, hand in hand, the welcome George received was perplexingly warm. Interns offered both of you snacks and drinks, directors passed through the green room doorway with beaming smiles, and instructions for George to follow. Writers breezed in, covering the last of the bases, and a friendly old makeup lady fussed over his look just in time for George to float to the stage. When he did, he dragged you along with him. You let go behind all the cameras, promising you'd be near the door's he was meant to exit- near enough to give him the odd thumbs up and dash away when it was all said and done.  

A small audience murmured as the set changed, and cameramen fluttered about. And then it was off. A man in a casual suit sped through a nauseating, over-rehearsed introduction and you wondered how many of the audience members were laughing for real or because they'd been told to.

And then, out of nowhere, without any warning, the interview took a turn you hadn't prepared for in the least. After the usual quick nice to see you again greetings had been passed back and forth, the host asked George a question he already knew the answer too and presented a photograph you hadn't even gotten the chance to see yet.

It was the one his sister had taken this morning, with the wildflowers, out in the midmorning sun. She'd posted it to her Instagram, tagging you in the caption that featured some long-winded sentiment. And you knew that the girl only had you in mind. She probably wasn't dreaming of George's next interview when she uploaded the photo for the world to see. She most definitely probably wasn't thinking of a moment like this coming true, and how her brother would hate it. In the blink of an eye, you envisioned George angrily phoning his sister and her dramatic defense, and a big unnecessary row breaking out.

But then you zoned back to life and watched George answer the interviewer's question with a small smile. He confirmed that he was officially married, and glad to be. George swiftly moved the conversation toward the film he was meant to prompt, which didn't sway the host on a strict schedule to cover all sorts of topics in the next three minutes. But George wasn't dismissive of the subject. He didn't squirm when the aspect of his personal life was spoken aloud to a room full of strangers. He smiled and caught your eye from the stage. You were too stunned to give him the usual thumbs up from where you waited, you just watched as he grinned, and nodded when the host offered his congratulations.

Then it was over, and the audience flooded away, and you and George hurried to collect yourselves and leave in as big of a hurry as you could without seeming rude. He held your hand like a vice, and you led the way out of the exit, toward the car park.

Before you could reach sweet freedom, a small crew of George's fans had been waiting near the back, with hopes of catching a moment of the guys time they'd come to watch get interviewed. The three young girls held out a marker and asked for his autograph in a shy manner. You noticed most of the fans George encountered over the years were just as meek and mild as the guy himself.

So he smiled and agreed with pleasure, as you awkwardly shifted on the sidelines, unable to flee to the car across the way because he had the keys.

"We're really happy for you, by the way." One of the girls piped up, facing you. "You guys have like, always been our favorite couple."

"You restore our faith in love." Another one of the girls giggled, approaching George with movie posters in hand.

All the complex feelings in your gut the rose at the girl's comments didn't matter. It was entirely too sweet of them to say something. So you thanked them with a smile, and waved goodbye when the last of them had their selfie with George. He said goodbye and turned toward the car with a sigh. You could practically see the weight of the evening's events fall off of his broad shoulders.

You piled into the passenger seat, debating on what to have for dinner, already knowing he dreamed of nothing more than a self-indulgent end to the long night. When you both agreed on what to have, a silence fell over the two of you for the first time all day.

It was heavy with different versions of the same question, the same subject. You'd woken up in one era, one that ended around ten this morning. And neither of you had much of a chance to talk about the fact that you were married now.

"Are you... happy?" You spoke up, at last, watching the world float by on your drive through the city.

"I am. Are you?" George smiled, turning to catch your eye, glancing back at the road ahead a couple of times.

"Yeah." You laughed a little. You wouldn't have agreed to any of this if you weren't dead sure you'd be at peace when the decision was made. And you were filled with that same calm that filled you in the cafe, this morning when George rested his hand on your knee. You'd made the right decision for the both of you, and you were very glad for it indeed.

///

Three months had passed. They were quite busy, and filled with all the usual stress that any typical trio of months held. But as the days passed by, you found George was right, somehow. Things... were easier. Maybe you'd talked yourself into believing so, but you noticed celebrities had stopped leaving you out of chit chat when they breezed through after-parties. You notice stranger men had stopped pestering you at the bar, half of the time. And when you met new people and wound up in new places, you didn't have to go through the long spiel of who Geogre was to you, and why he was always around. He was simply your husband, now.

It was strange to get used to the tile at first, but by the time you'd made it to month four, it rolled off your tongue like melting butter. George seemed most keen to use your unity to get out of other plans.

"Sorry I'll have to miss the next gala, my wife wants to go kayaking." You'd never kayaked. You didn't know how, and you'd never brought it up.

"Ah yes, I am that guy from that one movie but sorry I can't come back to your motel, I've got to help my wife pick out dinner." He had rushed you along grocery store stalls in a hurry to escape the odd, unnerving encounter.

That's how your week started, avoiding the scary fan who kept stalking through the market, stopping George with strange questions around too many corners. It wasn't his most unsettling encounter, but one that left the poor guy on edge for another day or so. You'd get home after fifteen-hour shifts, too tired to talk about it. Too tired to ask what he'd been up to all day.  

By the end of your week, you'd barely seen George, and he'd been just as busy. You ended your last, hellish never-ending shift with tears in your eyes from the thousands of little things that had piled up and left you stressed till it was time to clock out.  

You got home to find George in the living room, reaching for the remote. He left the thing on the coffee table when he twisted to see you in the doorway, worn down, strung out, over it. He asked if you were alright as you kicked your shoes away and hung your coat up in a hurry to decompress.

You demanded George wait to watch whatever film he had in mind for you to join him. You desperately needed to shift your focus from your own worries to an unrelated fictional realm. In a hurry, you showered the day from your achy body and slipped into your comfiest nightclothes.  Then you piled up your best blankets on the sofa, using a couple as faux pillows while you and George shared one big, massive quilt, and flipped on the film.

"What'll be tonight then?" You asked, sinking into the cushions at long last.  

"That one my mum won't shut up about. About that couple who gets divorced? WOn a bunch of awards." George muttered, clicking on Netflix. He'd always made it a point to watch the films the public raved over, to find out if the fuss was worth it.

"What if this kick starts our own divorce." You joked, the thought escaping your lips as soon as it passed through your head. Regret might have seeded itself in you if George wasn't so quick to laugh.

"I solemnly swear I will not let a fictional couple's marital issues affect my promise... no, my genuine desire to continue working at being with you for better or for worse."

Where the hell did that come from? You gapped at George as he queued up the film.

"Damn. You're getting good at this whole husband thing." You let out a small, stunned laugh. It made the dull ache in your head hammer. George noticed as you drew a hand to your brow, waiting for the thrum to settle.

"I'm sorry you had another bad day," He whispered.

"Thanks, You softened, knowing he truly empathized.

George lifted his arm and bobbed his head, beckoning you closer. You took the invite to curl into his side with a sigh. He was warm, and comforting, and his bicep was the perfect pillow. You relaxed for the first time in forever, it seemed, closing your eyes in to soak up the calm, quiet evening. The sounds of the film faded as you fell into an accidental nap.

You were jarred awake by a dreadful buzzing coming from the coffee table. George's phone was ringing, and when he twisted too slowly to reach for it, you realized he'd fallen asleep too. You noticed Dean's name flash across the screen as George answered, lackadaisically holding the cell in the hand that wasn't still closely wrapped around you.

"You're on speaker," George warned, as you stayed lethargically content at his side.

"Good! I have a question for both of you." Dean 's voice crackled through the telly. His assumption that you were already wherever George was, made you chuckle.

"Claire and I are staying in that quaint little seaside town, this weekend. Fancy coming along? In fact, it was her idea to invite you both to join us." Dean explained, it sounded as though he was walking through the city, shouts and clangs passing through the call.

You glanced up to George from where your head still rested near his shoulder. Neither of your expressions held signs of disinterest so when George carefully responded to Dean that the idea sounded nice, and asked for more details, you grinned and relaxed back into place.

Dean listed off some more information as George hummed and murmured in response. When the call had ended and new plans were made, George tossed his phone back on the table, and settled deeper into the sofa, shifting the weight of his arm beneath you, but hardly disturbing your peace a bit. The sun was peeking through the cracks of your curtains, and the movie must have been nearly over. You both drifted back asleep without another word, and all seemed well. It must have been.

You and George were closer than ever before- and you had already been classified as inseparable. But you'd hardly gotten to enjoy each other's company since making whatever you had official. Rule number three of this marriage enforced you must take every opportunity to for a bit of fun, as possible. It was time for a small getaway. A peaceful sleep would have to do, till then.

───※ ·❆· ※───

taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes​ @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin @dearevansamham​ @belledamsceno @nilletellsstories @loulouloueh @visionsofmelodrama @haileymorelikestupid

[hesesols]

The Devil's Advocate

Day 19 and 21 of Ichiruki month 2020

Summary: Demons are a pain in the neck. Exhibit A: The pint-sized she-demon Ichigo’s stuck with until further notice.

Rating: T

FF/ao3

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His mouth is bone dry.

Summer heat renders the humidity inside the tiny studio apartment stifling. Heat and sweat cling onto him like a second skin and the stupid electric fan does nothing to ease it.

It's barely three in the morning when he trudges over to his fridge and parks himself in front of the open doors. The blast of cold air hits his heated body nicely. He almost moans.

Instinctively, he grabs the bottle of orange juice from the side and takes a swig from it- only… it's empty?

He growls, "Rukia, what did we say about leaving the empty OJ in the fridge?"

The culprit spares him a lazy smirk from her end of the couch, violet cat-eyes gleaming from the faint glow of the TV. She tilts her head just so as she sticks her tongue out at him.

"Oops!"

Ichigo wearily sighs and slams the door shut, mumbling something about free-loading she-demons. His life is hardly picture perfect to begin with anyway with his job at the Metropolitan Police as a homicide detective. Work hours are long, and his mornings usually start off with unsolicited gruesome crime scene photos and a diluted concoction of coffee-water that is nowhere nearly as strong as he needs it to be.

Since Rukia moved in though, things seem to have gone from bad to worse.

His neighbours think she's his live-in girlfriend- sweet, albeit a little strange at times. Ichigo snorts. They don't know half of it.

The midget isn't even human.

Underneath a heavy layer of glamour, are two spiral-shaped horns- the colour of it blending near seamless with her nest of glossy black hair and of course, a very noticeable fork-tipped tail, flicking from side to side as she giggles at his obvious annoyance at the OJ-less situation.

Filling his cup with lukewarm tap water instead, he trudges over and nudges at her to move. Wordlessly settling next to her, he then proceeds to ignore her indignant yelp as he splays his long legs on the couch, taking up much of her space.

She huffs and glares at him, which earns her a careless roll of his eyes.

"What are you watching?"

Squinting slightly from the brightness, he scoffs as he realizes that she's watching a Spanish telenovela. Though watching may be an understatement in this case, Rukia is obsessed with them to the point where she becomes a little too invested in the torrid love affairs of the fictional characters on screen. By virtue of her otherworldly origins, she understands every language known to man and speaks in tongues; Ichigo doesn't and thinks it's a feat that he catches the names of the characters in passing.

He grabs the remote control, surprised when she viciously slaps his hand away and hisses, "Change the channel and I guarantee you won't live long enough to see the next dawn."

"I'd like to see you try."

Ichigo snorts and does it anyway. It's hard to take her seriously even with the whole glowing eyes business when she is so tiny that she barely comes to his shoulder.

As a demon, Rukia is surprisingly low maintenance- the most outrageous of her demands since she has gotten herself suspended in limbo in their plane of existence was for him to take her to a bunny café. That being said, she does however take her soaps and TV shows very seriously which explains her aggressiveness as she launches herself at him, her touch burning hot on naked skin as she grapples for the device.

"Give it back!"

Ichigo stretches, holding it in one hand just shy of her reach, taunting her.

"Why don't you make me, midget?"

Growling, she takes him up on his challenge. Violet eyes ablaze as she clambers over him on all four, chewing at her lower lip from the effort. It shouldn't even be possible Ichigo thinks, for demons to be this cute- ahem-fixated with earthly distractions but the press of her lithe body feels warm against him, deluding him into thinking for a second, that Rukia isn't some supernatural being from the nether realms powerful enough to send him flying with a snap of her fingers.

Sometimes, he feels she almost forgets about her inhuman advantages- on purpose. The puff of warm exhale from her makes his hair stand, the sight of her face so close to his jerks his thoughts away from his nonsensical musings. Her shirt hikes up and the collar that is way too loose on her easily falls off her shoulder, showing skin.

He bites the inside of his cheek. She needs to stop prancing around in his shirts.

She has her own clothes to wear. He bought her a full array of sundresses, pants, shirts and skirts. Ichigo thinks it's compulsion that makes her raid his closet and steal his clothes. It wouldn't have been quite so ridiculous if she wasn't so petite, making his worn-in T-shirts look more like dresses with the hem cut conspicuously shorter than normal on her thighs.

Ichigo looks away and takes a quick gulp of water. The heat is doing things to him.

He's not checking her out.

He swears. Honest to God.

He's not suicidal. He wouldn't put it above Rukia to claw his eyes out or alternatively damn him to the deepest pits of purgatories if she found out about him sneaking glances at her.

"Here!"

Ichigo throws the remote back at her, standing up abruptly without sparing her another glance. His skin feels warm- much warmer than it has any business of being under a demon's touch and his mouth dry. No touch of water will ever begin to quench this thirst and tame his racing heart but he is human enough to still try to run from the implications.

It's too hot to think. He grabs his keys and wallet.

"I'm heading out."

Rukia's voice rings up from the couch- cool, unaffected as always. Ichigo hates her a little for it, almost.

"This time of the day? Where are you going?"

"To get some OJ from the corner shop since someone finished it and couldn't even be bothered enough to replace it."

Her grin is impish, not a shred of remorse from her as she sighs and kicks back, reclaiming her sovereignty over the couch.

"Oh, could you grab some ice-cream while you're at it? I think we're all out too."

He grimaces, halts his process of shrugging on a shirt to yell back, "They're full of sugary crap. Too much of it and you're going to rot your teeth!"

Just before he sets foot outside though, he grumbles.

"What flavour do you want?"

The grin she flashes at him is annoying and indolent with her spread out on the couch, like a cat in the sun, pleased with her unchallenged access to her favourite soap and him running errands on her behalf.

The satisfaction practically purrs from her as she smirks and says, "Strawberries and cream."

His cheeks burn and he tells himself that he's too nice for his own good, staunchly refusing to even consider the possibility that she's got him wrapped around her pretty little fingers.

.

.

.

The streets of his neighbourhood are mostly deserted in the wee hours before dawn and the scarcity of people makes the air somewhat bearable despite the heat. He walks home in the dark, his groceries in a plastic bag hanging limply by his side.

Ichigo sighs. It's a horrible thing to be distracted by thoughts and downright disgraceful that it has taken him this long to realize that he's being followed.

He turns the next corner sharply and as expected, the heavy footsteps, the crunch against the gravel of the pavement follows. He hides behind the decrepit wall, bidding his time until the sound creeps close enough for him to make out the shadow of a hunkering man.

Now!

He leaps out from the shadow, swinging the heavily-laden bag like a weapon at his attacker.

The stranger decked from head to toe in black falters from the surprise attack. He is forced to take another step back as the weight hits him dead centre- quickly followed by a punch from Ichigo, letting out a pained groan as his world spins.

"Who sent y- the fuck!—"

The hood of his attacker slips off and Ichigo is more than a little shocked by the ghastly appearance of the creature underneath it. Whatever this thing is- it's not human. Yellow teeth- drool dripping from the corners of the gaping mouth and sunken cheeks make up the most sinister-looking skull-face he has ever seen. The thing's unfocused milky white eyes sharpened at him.

The creature throws itself at him, snarling with claws drawn out and aimed at his jugular.

Forced on the defensive, Ichigo doesn't hesitate. Instincts and years of experience have him throwing the bag of grocery at the ghoul as a distraction to buy him time. He takes off down the street in the opposite direction without looking back.

The bag rips, predictably; the contents of it spilling into the empty streets but it barely slows the creature down.

Outrunning him by a good minute, the creature lunges at him from his blind spot which he clumsily dodges. His back meets the wall of the alleyway, chipping off old paint and the uneven edges bite into his skin through his flimsy cotton shirt, drawing blood. He hisses in pain but there's barely even time to register it as the ghoul lunges again.

The strong jaw of the creature crushes the pieces of garbage Ichigo throws at it, rendering them into splinters. Its movements and attacks unrelenting and aimed to kill.

Weaponless as opposed to the creature's deadly bite and claws, Ichigo has neither the speed nor the agility to fully dodge the frenzied attacks. The odds are stacked against him and with every swipe and snarl; Ichigo feels his chances of survival dwindling.

He is crawling backwards on all four, back against the wall when his hand closes on a steel bar. He thanks the stars and whatever higher power there may be but knows that he is not out of the woods yet.

Grim determination sets in as his eyes harden.

He only gets one chance- one chance to get this right or he's dead and done for.

.

The ghoul rears up for its attack and Ichigo readies himself.

Mid-launch, the steel bar spears through the creature's twisted body. It gives a strangled cry, black blood oozing and dripping onto the pavement, over Ichigo's battered and bruised body. But Ichigo refuses to let go. He pushes it in deeper until he can hear the snap of muscles and soft tissues, and sees the metal protruding from the other side of the dead monster.

The ghoul flops over dead. Its weight settles on top of Ichigo and he eagerly hoists it off, eager to put some distance between them. The damn thing smells worse than the open sewage and rotten corpses.

Above him, there is an ominous roll of thunder and flashes of lightning that streak through the dark skies. Ichigo picks himself up wearily. He has no intention of being caught in the downpour.

Sharp pain shoots from his side as he hobbles. His hand comes up red and in disbelief, his eyes flit to the wound on his side, cut deep and the shred of cotton or what remains of his tattered shirt is soaked in the bloom of scarlet. The drip—drop of blood follows the pull of gravity, pattering onto the hot pavement.

He's been stabbed, he realizes belatedly and curses, that was his favourite shirt too.

.

Adrenaline fades and his legs give way from the blood loss.

A drop of something cool slides down his cheek before the torrent of rain follows, drenching him as he lays helpless on the deserted street, too weak to even yell for help.

He heaves a shaky breath, trying to make himself comfortable. The ache of the pain somehow dulling as the rain blurs his vision.

Cliché but he swears he sees his life flashing before him. And at the forefront of his strange musings and equally bizarre life cut short before his time, he remembers his first meeting with Rukia.

.

.

There's nothing quite like satanic cults and human sacrifices to brighten up the prospects of the day.

Ichigo grimaced, looking at the crime scene photos with a deep frown as he sipped at his coffee. He should have never taken up Ishida on his offer.

This case had all the makings of a ritual killing. Missing child, dead parent cut open with palms splayed, gruesome markings etched- he scowled; it reminded him too much of his own loss.

A tip-off from Anonymous led him to an abandoned warehouse not too far away from the Docks, the scene of the first murder.

"Don't do anything stupid," Ishida had cautioned him against it, "It's just another prank call. I sent a team out to canvas that area hours ago. There's nothing in that warehouse."

But Ichigo wasn't convinced. Gut instincts screamed at him to take a closer look at it but he also wasn't about to pick a fight when they should be focusing the bulk of their resources and time into finding the missing girl. The first 48 hours are crucial.

He's tough and packing. That made the second part of his decision a no-brainer as he slinked in past the locked gates and rusted metal fences— alone.

What he found inside the warehouse though was enough to make him balk.

"Nothing to report, my ass," he mumbled, carefully avoiding the pile of animal bones strewn along the doorway. He thought he heard the scurrying of rats and other critters as he made his way in deeper, unable to shake off the feeling of being watched.

There's something else in here. He could feel it in his bones.

He drew his weapon as he wandered into a room with what seemed to be a laid altar with offerings of dead flowers and questionable animal remains.

Heavy clouds of sulphur and incense filled the air, making his eyes water. In the centre of the room, was a circle, curious glyphs and runes drawn in red that he strongly suspected to be blood, candles with half-burnt ends flickering.

There's a pull at him towards the circle. He didn't resist it. The minute he crossed the threshold though, the candles were snuffed out and a blinding white light enveloped him. A strange ringing echoed through the room.

When his vision cleared, there was a girl with two horns and a tail standing in front of him, violet eyes searing into his as she bowed somewhat mockingly.

"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think that I'll waste away here for another week before someone shows up."

He stared, slack-jawed at her nudity or rather her lack of shame at her own state of undress.

She was unimpressed. Tapping her foot impatiently, she looked at him and said, "Well don't just stand there and gape. State the terms of your contract and we'll see if something can be arranged."

.

.

"Ichigo!"

The memory fades. The same pair of violet eyes are now boring deep into his.

"Rukia," he breathes. Talking is hard but he tries anyway. If it's to be his dying words, let them at least have meaning. Rukia- her existence and the events leading to her presence in his life are the only things that have ever made sense in a world said to have been created by an all-loving God and yet so full of injustice and hate.

"Stop talking! Damn it!"

He thinks she's smarter than that. He's lost too much blood now to ever come back whole. He is beyond saving at this point.

There's a light somewhere guiding him on. Maybe he'll see his mom after this; will she be proud of him- of what he's done with his life?

"I won't let you die."

There's a strange shimmering in the air. The shaft of light shining down on him is suddenly blotted out and he is falling-

Falling-

Falling-

.

He slams back into his body and chokes.

The pain is a hundred times sharper and a million times more jarring than he remembers. Brown eyes snap open just in time to see Rukia's kneeling body enshrouded in a silver ashy glow of light; her hand plunged deep into his chest.

The rain plasters her hair to her face; her eyes an unholy combination of black sclera and violet irises. She growls from the effort as her fingers tirelessly trace rune after rune across his broken body. The burnished ring of gold on his chest glows and hums with each and every character added.

Ichigo can only watch on in stunned silence as a cascade of something iridescent is siphoned from her and pulled into him. He thinks he hears singing, sweeter than the song of a nightingale and so beautiful that he thinks he just might cry from it.

She grits her teeth.

"Do you trust me?"

He nods.

She presses her lips to his. He surges forward to meet her and tastes the saltiness of her tears, mingled with that of the rain. There's a cut on her lip from where she had been biting too hard and the taste of it- like honey, decadent and syrupy, lingers on his palate.

The pain- or rather the absence of it grows and he feels something being anchored into place.

His heart.

Her heart.

There's something between them that is beyond words and whatever she's done, Ichigo knows it's life-changing for the both of them. He knows somehow, staring at the identical marks of a glowing glyph on the back of their palm.

They're bonded.

But even the very word seems inadequate to express this shimmer between them. There's a sliver of her- something inhuman— nay, a dark voice whispers, better than human— within him and it makes the world incomprehensibly sharper in his eyes, the taste of the summer air sweet on his tongue and the warmth of her skin so achingly perfect against his own as he holds her.

Pink flesh peeks through his tattered shirt. He is once again healed, whole, rendered into something new in her presence.

"So," he licks his dry lips, "did Hector ever managed to tell Maria that he loves her?"

"You idiot!"

She is shaking her head, calling him names for his recklessness. At length, she stops, and heaving a sigh of deep relief, grins at him, canines showing.

"Welcome back to the world of living, Master."

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FF/ao3

The 'I-accidentally-summoned-a-cute-demon-and-now-I-think-I'm-in-too-deep-to-let-her-go' AU

Also detective! Ichigo who solves crime with some help from the occult world- courtesy of his soulmate/familiar/contract partner demon! Rukia.

As always, review, like, reblog, comment or send me an ask to share random thoughts.

[brokenbuttonsmusic]

Laura Cantrell: Nashville-born, New York-based, Acclaimed Country Singer-Songwriter & DJ (& Kitty Wells Fanatic)

This post is a near- transcript of the Broken Buttons: Buried Treasure Music podcast (episode 2, side B). Here you’ll find the narration from the segment featuring the pioneering rock band Fanny, along with links, videos, photos and references for the episode.

Listen to the full episode on Spotify, Anchor or Mixcloud.

Music blog Stereogum used to have a running feature called “Quit Your Day Job” where they interviewed indie musicians about their current or former jobs. There was one with Marty and Drew from the band Blitzen Trapper. The two discussed being torn about walking away from teaching as their third album, Wild Mountain Nation, was starting to blow up. There was another where the lead singer of War on Drugs detailed some of the disgusting things he had to clean up while working as an apartment property manager. Mostly dead rats and clogged toilet stuff, but he did walk into an apartment that had been converted into a porno set. I remembered this discontinued “musician day job” feature while reading up on my next featured artist and it got me thinking. 

How many professional musicians do you think have a full time day job? How many juggle multiple side gigs and still manage to tour and put out records regularly? How many have really successful careers all while trying to make it as a musician? 

I don’t actually know. I did some research and there aren’t any reliable stats that I could find. There is a lot of anecdotal discussion on the topic. The consensus seems to be that most musicians are not getting by with music as their only, or even their primary source of income. I don’t think anyone is surprised by that. 

One Reddit user said less than 5% of musicians derive all or most of their income from music. He didn’t offer a source or anything, but he seemed very authoritative in his post. And then after a few more Google searches I lost interest and listened to more Laura Cantrell. 

Laura Cantrell’s story is what got me pondering how indie musicians go about juggling making art with the necessity of, you know, making a living to survive. In 2003, after two critically acclaimed albums, including a tour opening for Elvis Costello all across the United States and Europe, Cantrell was at a similar crossroads. Laura had risen to the position of Vice President of Equity Research at Bank of America in New York. Yes, you heard me right. Laura Cantrell was working as a corporate executive and touring with Elvis Costello at the same time. She actively worked on the road during the day and then performed for thousands of people each night.

Before we get further into what led up to this point and what came after, let’s hear a song from Laura Cantrell’s debut album, Not the Tremblin’ Kind. Here’s the title track.

That was Not the Tremblin’ Kind from Laura Cantrell’s first album back in the year 2000.

Laura grew up in Nashville. She played a little bit of piano and sang in the church choir, but did not get into performing music and playing out until her college years. As a teenager she worked at the Country Music Hall of Fame as a tour guide. This job, in addition to the influence of the diverse musical tastes of her parents, sparked an interest in traditional music, particularly classic country. She also became somewhat of an aficionado in this area. 

This love and knowledge of the early days of country music would help differentiate Laura as she honed her sound and selected her songs while developing as a performer down the road. Before that, however, it would make her an excellent college radio DJ and later an even more excellent DJ at WFMU, one of the best and longest running free-form radio stations in the country. Out of the New Jersey/New York area, WFMU is awesome to this day, with a wide array of programming where DJs still get to play whatever they want. 

Laura is my favorite kind of DJ, and the kind that has been dwindling in numbers since the rise of music downloads, which then gave way to streaming and endless algorithms. First off, she’s knows her stuff. She carefully curates each shows, and thoughtfully sequences each set within every episode. She packs in history, context and story to create something that transcends your typical weekend-afternoon-background-radio-soundtrack. I know this show is about under appreciated bands and artists, but Laura Cantrell’s contributions to radio deserve to be heard by more people. You can find her past WFMU shows, called The Radio Thrift Shop, archived on the WFMU website. You can hear her present day on her “States of Country” radio show on the Gimmie Country radio app, or on her SiriusXM George Harrison themed show “Dark House Radio,” on The Beatles station.

This concludes the part of the show where I babble my enthusiastic endorsement of Laura Cantrell’s past and present radio career.

Laura began playing music with others in college at Columbia University. Her jam pals included Andrew Webster, future member of Tsunami Bomb and Mac McCaughan, who would go on to form Superchunk and Portastatic + found Merge Records. The friends would call their band Bricks. A lo-fi, mostly apartment recording projects that played sporadic gigs over the years. 

Here’s the Brick’s song, The Girl with the Carrot Skin.

Living in New York, Laura began playing guitar and writing her own songs. She also plucked some choice classic country finds and incorporated them into her own performance catalog. One day she met a guy named John who asked her to sing on a song that would appear on his band’s next major label release for Elektra. 

That’s The Guitar from They Might Be Giant’s 1992 album, Apollo 18. John Flansburgh asked Laura to sing on that recording. It was the first time Laura recorded in a professional studio. John Flansburgh became a fan of Laura’s music and released her first recorded material as part of his Hello CD of the Month Club, an EP called The Hello Recordings in 1996. 

Let’s hear another Laura Cantrell song. This time one that she wrote with Amy Allison. From Laura Cantrell’s 2014 album, No Way There From Here, this is All the Girls are Complicated. 

That was Laura Cantrell with All the Girls Are Complicated from her last full length release, No Way There From Here. Actually, that was her last full album of new material, but Laura did release an album a few years back of her BBC recordings on John Peel’s radio show. That album is called At the BBC: On Air Performances and Recordings 2000-2005. 

I mentioned earlier that Peel was a big fan. Again, here’s John Peel’s full quote about Laura’s first album, Not the Tremblin’ Kind: "[It is] my favourite record of the last ten years and possibly my life.” Having the endorsement of the legendary English disc jockey was enough to give Cantrell wider exposer throughout the UK. She developed a loyal fanbase through regular appearances on Peel’s show, as well as US and European tours, including the opening slot for Elvis Costello. Which brings us back to Laura’s fork in the road. Before her third album, Laura decided to walk away from the corporate gig. She was excited to focus on music full time, but a little worried about walking away from the security of a successful career she liked and position she was good at.

From a spotlight CNN Business did on Cantrell in 2004:

“For several months until she finally quit, Cantrell balanced her day job with a growing schedule of rehearsals, gigs, recordings and publicity. On the day she appeared on the Conan O'Brien show she was at her desk until lunchtime.”

“And while life as a professional musician is a dream come true, Cantrell still looks back with fondness on more than a decade on Wall Street.”

“‘I came into Wall Street with a very typical kind of stereotype that it was all going to be people just obsessed with money. What I found was that there were just loads of interesting people who were a lot like myself, just doing it as a job and who had lives that were full of other things.’

‘So I miss some of the contact with people I met. Ironically it was a very supportive environment for me as an artist.’”

Laura’s first two albums were released on the the indie label Diesel Only, which was founded by her husband, Jeremey Tepper. Her third album was released by Matador Records, also an indie label, but with an impressive roster that included Liz Phair, Modest Mouse, Pavement and Sleater-Kinney. Released in 2005, Humming By the Flowered Vine continues Cantrell’s classic country sound, but with some evolved production and arrangements. Laura’s mastery as a song selector gets more and more impressive. This album includes a cover of a rare, unreleased Lucinda Williams song form 1975 called, “Letters.” 

In fact, Lucinda Williams herself was thoroughly impressed with Laura’s cover of “Letters.” She attributes the cover to bolstering her confidence to go back through her earlier material and look for her own buried treasures. 

From Blurt Magazine: 

“The inspiration for her journey through the past struck when she heard Laura Cantrell’s version of her song ‘Letters,’ which Williams wrote around 1975 and recorded on a demo but never officially released. Explains Williams, ‘She got a copy from a mutual friend and did a beautiful, really sweet version of it that made me think wow, she brought this early song back to life, maybe I should go back and review some of my old stuff. I’ve got all these tapes of old little songs, but I never thought they were good enough to do anything with.’”

You know you’re an ace at finding under appreciated gems when you surprise Lucinda Williams by helping her discover one of her own songs. Let’s hear Laura Cantrell’s version of Letters.

That was Laura Cantrell with Letters from her 2005 release Humming by the Flowered Vine.

In 2008, Laura returned with an EP called, Trains and Boats and Planes with 9 songs about… trains, and boats and planes. It’s very good and it includes a fun cover of New Order’s Love Vigilantes. 

Throughout this time, Laura continued her radio show. She also started a family and became co-owner and co-operator of Diesel Only Records. 

In this clip from an interview with Face Culture, you can really hear Laura’s passion for country music and its roots. She talks about the importance of country’s influence on rock n’ roll, and how each artist is inspired by something great that came before. 

And Laura continuously pays tribute to the greats that came before through her radio show and on her own records. In 2011, Laura released a tribute to Kitty Wells called “Kitty Wells Dresses: Songs of the Queen of Country Music.” The collection includes nine Kitty Wells covers and one original, the title track, Kitty Wells Dresses.

From the Washington Post:

Here’s Laura talking about the inspiration for the album. 

“Kitty wore very typical stage clothes for women who performed at barn dances and in early country music shows,” says Cantrell, a Nashville-born, New York-based country singer and host of an old-time music show on the legendary radio station WFMU.

“They were these frilly gingham dresses, non-threatening and cutesy. It became this uniform that all the women of the era wore, and I always thought it was a great metaphor for how you can underestimate the strength of the person or the value of the artist underneath.”

That was the song Kitty Wells Dresses from Laura Cantrell’s tribute album of the same name, released in 2011. Wells was the oldest living member of the Country Music Hall of Fame upon its release. She was also the first woman inducted into the hall. Cantrell met and talked to Kitty about her album. She said that Kitty asked which songs were selected and as Laura began calling them out, Kitty would sing each one. 

I’ve mentioned all of Laura’s past and present DJ efforts, all of which I’ll link to on my website, brokenbuttons.com. Laura also continues to release music. She had planned a host of special activities for the 20th anniversary of Not the Tremblin’ Kind, which had to be put on hold due to all things 2020. 

You can contribute to Laura’s IndigGoGo campaign to help fund her new digital singles collection that she’s already started releasing. The plan is to release six singles with an A and a B side, all working with different musicians and producers. I’d recommend the $50 Kitty Wells Dresses Pack, which gets you access to the digital singles as their released, a signed CD copy of both the singles collection and the Kitty Wells Dresses album, as well as a copy of Laura's essay on Kitty and Patsy Cline from the book "Rock and Roll Cage Match: Music's Greatest Rivalries"

Laura Cantrell is the rare performer whose work is deeply rooted in its original source material while still feeling fresh and exciting. Laura’s radio shows can be described the same way. A buried treasure unearthing buried treasure and taking the old and classic and making it new and lasting and so much sweeter. Laura Cantrell.

References and other stuff to check out:

Laura’s Indiegogo campaign for her digital singles series

The Radio Thrift Shop - Laura’s prior radio show. You can stream past episodes and check out her playlists

Gimmie Country, where Laura hosts her current show States of Country. New episodes air 3:00 Monday EST. Laura chats during the show with listeners in the app.

Darkhorse Radio on Sirius XM. Laura’s other show dedicated to George Harrison. New episodes air Thursday at 3:00.

John Peel wiki entry about Laura

TMBG wiki entry about Laura

A Wall Street journal feature on Laura

An NPR feature on Laura

A CNN Business Week feature on Laura

Stereogum archive of the Quit Your Day Job feature

[joe-young-stories]

A Week.

Hey, new to tumblr. This is something I wrote in an enclosed, dodgy Christian community in 2018.

The last time I saw Dad in person I was seventeen, and I’d either just finished my A-levels or I was halfway through them. I’d seen him a year before, for Grandad’s funeral. After we’d got home from the wake I’d nicked a crate of Guinness, and thrown up on my suit. I’d thrown up all over the guest bed as well, and I’d left all the empty cans in the waste paper basket. I told my dad that the emotional stress of the funeral must have affected me, and I didn’t really give a shit about the fact that he knew.

This time it was summer, and it was that one week of the British summer that is actually scorching hot. Dad was waiting for me at Oxford train station for my visit. Visa Skank was there too. Visa Skank is my dad’s Russian wife, and perhaps she married him for a visa or perhaps she really loves him. I’ve never actually had anything against her. It was rude, offensive, calling her Visa Skank, but it made me feel really savage and clever back then.  This day at Oxford train station she was in her late forties, and she was wearing this shimmer- shimmer peach linen halter top harem pants combo thing with a dainty cream pashmina and a big floppy straw hat. She was basically just easy mockery.

We went straight from the station to this ultra quaint Riverside pub/restaurant garden. I had Peronis. I had a burger too. We didn’t really have a conversation because Visa had seen a picturesque riverside photo opportunity, and she had my dad take pictures of her next to a drainage sluice for almost an hour, at different angles and filter settings. At the end we walked back through the pub to get to the car and she started draping herself mystically around rustic beams and cosy fireplaces, or sat herself next to like, napkin dispensers that pleased her. And my dad took more pictures. I just wanted to get back to the house. I don’t remember too much more from the meal.

In the daytimes that followed I fell into a routine. Dad would wake up late (his teaching job at the schools wasn’t on) and he might mooch about or he might go into Oxford, or he might just go to Headington High Street. Visa Skank had a busy social schedule attending a young mum’s social club in the Florence Park Cafe. She would spend a lot of time there. I would wake up and take a walk into Central Oxford. And I would stop for a pint in the White Horse, where we used to go for Lunch when I was little. In town I would walk the old streets around the Radcliffe Camera, and this was back when I had academic ambition before I stopped caring about most things, and the scholarly atmosphere excited me. I walked past the cathedral boys’ school – my first school—and into the Eagle and Child, or the Kings Arms, or the Turf Tavern. I would read Franz Kafka stories or Iris Murdoch novels or I’d listen to pretentious students talk shit and praise myself for being more intelligent than them. After a few pints I’d saunter back over Magdelen Bridge and back up towards the house in Headington.

Dad’s house had changed a lot over the years. The retro porn PC used to be in the dining room, and all my 9 year old self used to do at my dad’s was either play SimCity on that computer or watch Dad’s porn. He’d archived literally thousands of pictures, all categorised according to hair/boobs/race etc. Albums of particular stars. I got up early at that age, and if you were proper stealth about it could get up with the dawn and watch a four second clip of a woman getting pleasured by a mechanised shoe buffer. Only if you were stealth though. The computer screen could be seen from the stairs via the dining room mirror. You had to listen for footsteps. God forbid that Visa or even Grandad would walk in. View me wanking it to Dad’s shoe buffer porn.

Now though the house layout was different. Grandad had been a cantankerous twat since Nan died, and all he ever did was sit in the living room watching cartoons and chat shows. GMTV, Pokemon, Digimon, Homes under the Hammer. That was all I ever saw him do on visits to my dad’s.  I left him to it.

But he started losing control of his faculties, and Dad and I would walk in from the pub to a stray smell of nappies, the CBBC channel playing in the background. His osteoporosis got worse. The last time he was alive I was seventeen and he’d been moved to a hospice. He was half asleep next to his colostomy bag but he murmured a greeting and a goodbye. The three of us, Grandad, Dad and me, sat in near silence for approximately fifteen minutes. “Good to see you, Grandad,” I said to him as I was leaving. Grandad had written “to a very impressive grandson” on my birthday card seven months previously.

While Grandad was dying his house was being renovated. The dining room and kitchen had been knocked together into this rustique farmhouse experience, with a big beaten up pine table, a pine dresser and a freshly installed aga. An aga in a nineteen thirties semi. There were a lot of wholesome wicker baskets bought in and gooseberry jam jars were placed in them for effect. Next door the garage was knocked down and a den/conservatory/stargazing lounge/music studio was built. The living room, where Grandad watched all the kids TV, and which I was told was always going to be “His Space” had had all the carpets ripped out and new sofas put in. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered every wall, and they were all full of this intelligentsia Russian shit no one read. The retro porn PC was upstairs in Dad’s bedroom now, so after I got back from Oxford that last week I’d sit in the conservatory on my laptop. Sometimes if my dad was around I’d bring up an attractive female friend’s Facebook profile and wait for him to ask me about it. He’d talk about organic food and hand picking your own raspberries, and how Russian customs and traditions were the best way to live. But most of those afternoons he was upstairs in his bedroom checking his email, which took about two hours and was a pretty full-on activity for him. If Visa was at home she’d make still life displays from Kitsch crap she found in charity shops. And she’d do photoshoots. Most of the time she was out though. Presumably with the young mums.

When I was downstairs on my own I would drink from the many, many bottles available on the farmhouse shelf. I never drank in front of Dad, but I’d never bother hiding how drunk I was getting either. A little bit of gin, little bit of vodka, whiskey, white rum.

I’d always done this. When I was about twelve, thirteen, fourteen I’d go through Dads bedroom and raid his wardrobe. I’d find his extensive magazine stash and his books on “Tantric Passion”, “The Multi Orgasmic Man”, “Make Her see you Mean Commitment”. I’d find the hamper full of Bombay Sapphire bottles; I never questioned the water bottles full of urine next to his bed. I wasn’t subtle. I’d try and incite his scorn, his discipline, his parental authority. I’d find glow in the dark condoms in his bedside drawers, and I’d take them out of the packets and leave them under his pillow like a treasure hunt. I would neck a bottle of chardonnay, refill it with tap water and leave it in the fridge for him to find. He’d look at the bottle, look at me, deliberate and stammer “I must have rinsed it out for recycling and put it back on autopilot.” I don’t think he knew me well enough to confront me. He once drove me back to mums with me throwing up ass the way down the M40, and we both agreed that I must have eaten some “ropey” quiche.

I didn’t want Dad to parent me anymore; I just didn’t really care. So while Dad was upstairs checking his email I’d access the WiFi and watch naked men beat each other, and I’d masturbate and drink gin. I think on the Tuesday of that week he found me full-on passed out in the stargazing conservatory, sleeping it off. Later on he’d said something about travelling being exhausting, especially across London, and it always took a few days for the mind to properly relax on holiday. I agreed.

In the evenings we’d go out to a pub, the Vicky Arms or The Chestnut or something. I would tell Dad what A levels I was doing. I’d namedrop attractive female friends quite a lot, and talk about parties I went to with them. I’d wait for him to be like, “Are they pretty?”, “Are they into you?”, “Like yeah, get in, my son!”, “Well done, boyo!” and things like that. Visa would come with us. She’d sit there in peach tracksuit bottoms and some kind of burgundy flamenco/matador top, and she would say things like, “Never microwave food because it changes the molecules. Did you know this? We go through a recipe book and you will find meals you would like to try.” We might order popcorn from behind the bar. Visa might demand a photo shoot of her next to an inspiring sunset or whatever.

At home Dad and Visa would go to bed in Grandads old room. Nans room, now the guest bedroom, was being fitted with a “Roman balcony” so I slept on a blow up bed in the living room with all the Russian volumes. I’d drink more whiskey and watch a comedy show about teenage lesbians.

That was it, really. The last week I saw my dad was fairly uneventful. Mundane. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was the last time I saw him I doubt I would have remembered it

Only two events stand out in particular. On the Thursday of that week Dad was playing at a jazz and tango concert at a bar/club in Wantage. He did concerts like that to keep money coming in when the schools weren’t on. Visa took tango lessons down at the community centre, and she’d met a new friend and tango partner called Allan. He had had a stroke and divorce in a five year period and had taken early retirement, so I was told. So I was briefed. Briefed why? I didn’t care.

Allan met us at the house. We all sat about having a back garden beer and then Dad and I set off for Wantage. Allan’s and Visa came later, in Allan’s car, which he could still drive all post stroked up apparently. We had another pint in a pub in Wantage. Dad introduced me to the concept of a “Session Beer”. Advice I have never followed.

Dad gave me money for the evening and then left me to my own devices. I sat on the balcony and drank a lot of Stella, and from my vantage point I could see Dad playing onstage. I could see Visa and Allan as well, and she had her head on his shoulder and he was holding her close around the lower back. This didn’t look particularly tango-ey, but Visa had told me on one pub evening that tango was more about feeling than steps. “Feeling. Yes?” she had said with gusto. This was the passion of the dance I was watching, then. Dad had told me in the car that tango was Allan’s hobby, it’s what got him out the house, like his physio. I looked at Dad, and he was playing some sassy chords on the piano, watching the two of them become one with the dance. He didn’t do anything else. He just sat there, watching them get on with it. I finished one of my Stellas, and later on I thought to myself that he looked like a drooping bunch of flowers in a vase, half dead. A bit sad, maybe. A bit lacking. I was quite proud of myself for thinking of that. It felt very grown up.

Two days later we were having a back garden beer, Dad and I. The garden had changed, and where a swingset once stood there was now a very wholesome vegetable plot. Beyond that was a washing line. It was one of those washing lines with one pole in the ground, and it folded out like an upside down pyramid. You could spin it around for ease of pegging/unpegging. I looked at the washing line and remembered my eight year old self playing by it. I had been playing with a football. I was staying with him for a few weeks or so over the summer. I was out there, by myself, with the football. But I liked to pretend I was playing with all the other children I knew from school. Kids who were actually busy with their own friendship groups or who called me poofty boy by the wildlife pond. But when I was playing with them by myself they were all like, “I did not see this coming! We have not appreciated your serious skills! Hey guys, check out this Baller!” and none of them called me a poofty boy by the wildlife pond.  

I had devised a game where you had to throw the ball into the opened up washing line to score a point. Dad came outside just as I was about to land the sickest shot from ten feet away, the shot which was going to blow George and his gang away, and was going to make Sadia and Carrie-Ann think I was total boyfriend material. He asked me if I wanted anything to eat.

And I really don’t know what came over me, but I said something along the lines of “I’m playing a game. We have to get the ball off each other and get it in the net. Do you want to play?”                          

“Oh, right!” was something like he said “Yes alright then, I will”. I’d never played a game with Dad before, and we were both a bit hesitant. Like, do we just…start, or what? I chucked the ball at the line and missed, and he grabbed it. We ran around the garden, playing the game. He scored a point. I scored a point.  At one point he wrestled me to the ground to get the ball off me, and then helped me up. I remember laughing and smiling, being out of breath. I was tense, too. How did things like this come to a logical end? Did, like, the session finish?  Was there a way for this to end without Dad having to just be really rude? Like: “I’m sorry Joe, but I need to stop doing this at this point and go back to my day. You are welcome to continue though.” How did it work? After approximately fifteen minutes it mercifully started raining, and we went inside. It was the only time we ever played the game.

Sitting and having a beer with my dad that last week was the last time I looked at the garden, or indeed spent any time with him. Halfway through our drink Visa came out of the stargazing conservatory doors, and she was wearing a floor length lacy white gown, a white bonnet and silky white gloves. She was carrying a large wicker hamper, and she put the hamper down and pulled out a silver teapot. “I am English lady at tea,” she said, and she raised the teapot in the air. Then she laid the patio table for a country manor high tea, and started demanding a photoshoot. I went inside.

The next day I was due to go home. I woke up that morning to find that I’d drunk too much and pissed the blow up bed. I put my soggy boxers in a plastic bag, and I covered the damp sheet with my duvet and left it to fester.

I hardly spoke to dad after that week. There was no reason to most of the time. I rang him twice to ask for money, once to say merry Christmas can I have some money and once to tell him I’d just left rehab. In 2018 I had written to him to tell him he was a cunt and I wanted to burn his house down. “Past wounds” with my Father had become a significant part of my “Life Story” by that point, and I thought that sending such a horrible letter might activate a Life Event in some way, some dramatic finale.

Dad has always had his settings such that I can’t find him on Facebook, so I have to log in as my mum to see his profile. Him and Visa quote Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare sonnets on each other’s pages. Visa’s profile has about 64 photo albums. They’re all called things like “Casserole dishes on the patio”, “Beauty In Autumn”, “Sensuous mermaid has adventure”.  Her name isn’t actually Visa Skank. All the photo albums are silly and innocuous. When I’m drunk, or self pitying, or feeling like a victim, or all of the above I sometimes find myself thinking about the game me and Dad played with the washing line and the football.

[heli0s-writes]

V. Exhibit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  After all your hard work, the day is finally here. A/N: Part 5 of Mystery of Love.

The following month passed by in a hurry, as your thoughts were dominated by the constant thrall of work. One month was truly not enough to prepare, but you knew the implications of waiting until June passed- those positions in the fall would likely not be available; June was late enough.

Tony eagerly sprang into action and helped you transform your guest room into a photography studio, begrudgingly folding to your “outrageous peasant demands” of simple lighting, and two solid backdrops. When it was fully set up, you held a meeting with the team and prepped them over procedure and your proposal. You spoke plainly.

The show to view your work post-travels was primarily a guise to get a glimpse into their lives more intimately; you were under no illusion that it was anything else but 1) a shrewd plan for elites to rub elbows with other elites and 2) an opportunity for you.

Honesty was the best policy, and you knew they would appreciate it.

“If you consent to have your posed portrait taken by me in a studio setting- something we haven’t done before, thank you. If you don’t, I don’t blame you or hold it against you. It can be unnatural, uncomfortable, and I understand. Be aware- these images will be auctioned off. They will not, however, be duplicated. They are single prints.”

“Please make me rich.” Tony grinned as he spun freely in the swivel chair, “I mean, richer. Please make me richer.” After a round of glares from the team, he fessed, “Oh fine. Yes, you’ll receive a portion of the payment. You greedy little assholes.”

It didn’t take much more convincing for everyone to be on board. You were eager to begin and spent the first few days of June taking note of the kinds of images you wanted from each member. You thought about the representation of duality of Avenger and “being” whether it was human, super soldier, or an enhanced- or in Thor’s case, a god. But in the end, you decided on listening to Bucky’s advice and give ‘em hell. They were going to play by your rules.

Halfway through the month, you were so engrossed in the work, you’d barely had time to spend with either Steve or Bucky. They were sweet enough to make sure you had plenty of coffee on your days at the compound and would try to call before bed if you were in the city. Other than the occasional dinners together and their own photo sessions (which you were adamant on keeping strictly professional-save for a very stubborn session with Bucky), you hardly saw them.

Steve was called away on a diplomatic assignment with Natasha in Paris on the 13th. You were happy to hear that he wouldn’t be in any foreseeable danger and a tiny bit glad that he’d be busy doing something other than worried about your sleeping and eating habits. By the 24th, everything was nearly complete, and the only thing left for you to do was buy a dress and set up for the night of. You felt like a pile of wet rags and had even lost a few pounds from the stress and exertion.

-

The morning of the 26th, Steve and Natasha landed at the compound, disembarking from the quinjet. You were taking the day off to find a dress in the city; Tony had given you his credit card. It was a tremendous gesture you wanted to refuse until he reminded you that truthfully, you were doing him just as big of a favor as he was doing you. He had even encouraged you to get a custom gown early in the month and even passed the message along to various designers, but you adamantly refused, reiterating once again that it was not about you. Tony would have to face the disappointment of being the only one in a custom-made ensemble.

At 11, while rifling through a rack of silk and lace beauties, you received a call from Bucky.

“Hey, you,” you smiled. He’d been texting you all morning, updating you on Steve’s jet lag. “Can I come to you for lunch?” You sucked in a deep breath. “Buck, you sure? I’m in Manhattan.” “Yeah. Send me your location.”

There was no arguing with him when he made up his mind.

When Bucky arrived on 5th Avenue, he wore a black long-sleeve and jeans with his usual combat boots. You couldn’t help but smile at the classic cap and sunglasses combo as he plodded through the throng of tourists- looking very much like one himself. His hair was tied back to avoid sticking to his neck in the heat. He kissed your shoulder at the entrance of the store and you grazed his stubbled chin with a finger in response.

The walk to your favorite sandwich shop was relatively short, and Bucky let you lead the way, keeping a hand on the small of your back to keep you close. The two of you sat at the bar near the window after your food arrived and you let him know your surprise at his offer to meet you in the city. He shrugged it off as he took the sunglasses off his face.

“When I was on the run, I placed myself in different locations, but it was often smartest to hide in plain sight. Bucharest has a population of over a million people ‘n they’re so busy they don’t pay attention to much else; I don’t go into the city mostly because I don’t like it, hon’.” He took a bite of his sub and you did the same, snorting in delight when a bit of lettuce hung from his chin. Bucky rolled his eyes and sent you a lopsided grin before closing his mouth again over the sub, muttering. “You’re a punk.”

You felt laughter bubbling up in your chest as he swiped off the lettuce and flung it at you.

This was the Bucky you liked the most- playful, mischievous, still sweet in the center. Not to say there were parts of him you disliked, but you were careful with his more jagged pieces. The Bucky who scanned every room he entered, who always strapped at least three knives to his body, who scowled on impulse, who automatically put himself in front of you in response to loud noises needed more tenderness. The Bucky who texted you at three in the morning “just to see if you were awake” needed more tenderness, too.

The first time you woke up to one of those messages, you joked that he reminded you of a college boy making a booty call. Only after seeing him bleary eyed and on-edge did you ponder more deeply about it and ventured to ask if he had trouble sleeping because of nightmares.

He admitted he truly saw little in his dreams, but felt chasms that threatened to swallow him up, and the terror of that blackness kept him awake. You knew what awaited him in that blackness. Since then, you’ve always kept your phone on loud.

“Stevie got you a dress from Paris,” Bucky mumbled, wiping the corners of his mouth with a brown napkin, hiding the slightest hint of a smirk. “I don’t think it’s your style, though.”

You raised an eyebrow, sweeping bits of crust into the empty wrapper of your lunch. “Oh yeah? Steve picked it out? What’s it like?”

“It’s red. ‘S real nice, but it’s also red.”

You scrunched up your nose in concern. “Oh… I hope it won’t hurt his feelings if I don’t wear it.”

Bucky went to throw both of your crumpled trash piles away and returned with an understanding smile, “Nah. He’s a big boy. Party’s in two days, though. If you don’t find anything you’re gonna get stuck with it, hon.”

Sighing, you stood up and brushed off your shirt, “Yeah. I’ll look some more. I put a dress on hold earlier so if I don’t find anything else, I’ll go back to that one. Thanks for having lunch with me, Bucky.” You pulled absentmindedly on his shirt sleeve and tugged the wrinkles out of the elbow. Bucky took the opportunity to bend down and plant a kiss on your jawline, whispering that he missed you into your cheek.  

“I’m not leavin’,” he said, removing the sunglasses that were hanging from the collar of his shirt, “Haven’t seen you in days, doll. I’m not leavin’ yet.”

The definitive statement was punctuated by another one of his keen stares. You swallowed as his clear blue eyes flitted back and forth between your own, finally settling on your mouth as you nervously breathed out a soft “Okay”. Your heart swelled in your chest as he smiled. You couldn’t help but lovingly follow the sly arc of his lips across and up to those joyful creases you so adored running from his eyes. Happy Bucky was your favorite Bucky. You wanted to make him look like this all the time. You felt so terrible that you’d been so busy and avoiding him.

Impulsively, you reached up and kissed him on the lips.

It was quick, and you stood back flat on your feet, hand shooting up to cover your mouth. Fearfully, you took a chance to peek at him. The two of you stood there next to the window staring at each other for a few seconds before Bucky broke out into a wide toothy grin.

You flushed from head to toe. Your first kiss. In a sandwich shop. The banality of it all dawned on you and before you had the chance to say anything, Bucky broke the silence with a hearty laugh. Soon enough, you joined in, burying your face in both your hands. People were starting to glance over to the window and stare, so Bucky grabbed you by the hand and briskly stepped out into the street. He caught your waist to turn you to face him, pressing your back against the brick wall of the shop. The chatter of Manhattan whipped around both of you in the background, full of footsteps and yelling, honking, dogs barking, construction. Bucky Barnes held tight to your sides as if you might get torn into in the sea of people behind him.

Under the shade of his cap’s bill, you could hardly see his eyes, but the light illuminated his mouth, which was pressed into a thin line.

You squinted as sunlight fell over your face, “Buck?”

The intensity of Bucky crashing his lips to yours ripped the breath from your lungs. He stepped forward into your body, pressing his broad chest against you, flesh hand pushing your torso against his. In the middle of the sidewalk, he erased all the noise of Manhattan. You could only hear his breath on your mouth as he parted and returned again and again. Three deep kisses later, he let you go.

You gulped, heart stammering, lost completely in ragged breaths and desperately trying to ignore the eyes of passing strangers who’d witness your moment of public affection. You had seen this coming for a while now, but it was still a shock.

Ever since the day on the couch, you had been trying to avoid physical intimacy, but it had been difficult to experience growing closer with Bucky and simultaneously disregard his longing for your touch. He was always holding back, like a predator in the tall grass.

“I wanna do so much more than that…” He whispered in your ear. His voice was deep, and you could hear his throat clenching as he swallowed. The sound burrowed its way into your brain, sending currents scampering through your body.

Bucky ran his hand along your jaw, one final kiss landing on the shell of your ear as he muttered, “When you’re ready, I will. Come on, you lead the way.”

All you could do was nod in response as he guided you in front of him, one hand resting again on your back as you tried to stay calm in the crowd. In a few mere minutes, the street changed as you turned a corner. Your heart was beginning to slow down again.

“I’m curious, doll,” Bucky called from behind you, running a finger up and down the small of your back, “What color was that dress you put on hold?”

From the way his words sounded, you knew he was smirking. “It was black.” You swerved to the side to avoid a man pushing a stroller and Bucky followed suit. Craning your head back to see his expression, your heart sped up again either by his tightening grip or his subsequent praise:

“Atta girl.”

-

The last Saturday in June was the 28th. Pepper had demanded that you stayed at your apartment until the evening of, setting you up with a full-day spa appointment on Friday. According to her (and your very exhausted body) you needed rest and pampering before the big night. She also insinuated that Tony was being incredibly high-strung with setting up; he wanted it to be a surprise, and if you’d step foot on the campus before he was ready, he might completely “lose it Bridezilla-style”.

You’d been video-chatting Steve at night on the phone before bed since spending the day with Bucky. He was at first disappointed that you decided not to wear the dress he’d gotten you but ultimately understood why: red was a high-profile color. He sheepishly admitted that he was a bit old-fashioned, and was a sucker for women in red. It was cute. You suggested that he ask Natasha instead.

Your heart swelled any time his face came on the screen and you couldn’t help but stupidly grin every night into the phone. He told you about the trip and his desire to one day take you to the city, glossing over the details of the errand itself. You didn’t mind- it wasn’t your job, and you likely wouldn’t have understood its significance. He brought up how he was concerned at first that the distance would cause discomfort- but perhaps it was the consent to distance that changed the rules. You knew where he was going and accepted it, and so neither of you were pained by the separation.

“Maybe on the more peaceful missions, you might like to come with me? It’d be like travelling again, huh?” You agreed, eager to see another endearing smile break across his face. You loved the way Steve closed his eyes as he smiled, long lashes folding to graze against his raised cheeks- it was a habit of his, and it made you curious to wonder what he thought of during those blissful expressions.

After your long spa day you ended your night with another video call, feeling the excitement growing closer and closer, emboldened by Steve’s encouragements. More changes were coming on the horizon and you felt ready to face them. You were glad to have both men by your side.

 Promptly at 5, Pepper sent a car outside to wait outside your apartment door. The invitation you’d proofread for Tony stated that doors opened at 6:30 with a cocktail hour and viewing period before any announcements were made. You would be giving a talk at 8, unveiling the main auction piece at the end and then there would be a bidding period before the night unwinds with dancing. The event supposedly ended at midnight, but you were sure that was Tony’s way of ushering out the guests. You weren’t going to assume he’d turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of 12.

Blotting on the final layer of your lip stain, you swept over it with a coat of high-shine gloss. Your make up was done simply: filled in, full, arching brows; barely-there contouring to emphasize your bone structure; peach blush; and a single smooth black line over both your eyelids. Your hair was brushed back and tucked behind your ears, flowing over your shoulder in neat waves.

You wanted to be sleek and able to blend in, with just a touch of red-lipped-conspicuous.

Stepping into the lobby, you felt as if transported into a different world. Tony had transformed the chamber into a flawless gallery setting with your photographs, framed and displayed along the perimeter of the open-spaced room. He’d put in wall panels here and there along with several benches where viewers could sit, arranging it perfectly to where there was plenty of walking space and room to mingle. Along the right wall was an elegant backlit bar manned by three sharply dressed bartenders with dazzling smiles. Close by was a stage with a band plucking a lazy acoustic tune in their warm-up routine, accompanied by a harpist. Gorgeous floral arrangements stood tall on pedestals, their sweet scent hanging in the air. Servers wandered casually, silver trays in hand topped with hor d'oeuvres and champagne.

The first few guests were arriving, picking up pamphlets from the stand near the door and meandering through the maze of photos. The team was scattered around the room, dressed beautifully, all smiles. Natasha hypnotized in the stunning red gown Steve picked out. It was striking with an elegant sweetheart neckline and brocade skirt. Pepper wore violet tulle. Wanda was smoldering in a lacy brown long-sleeved dress.

The men were simply dashing, in various dark suits offset by their own choices of silk bowties and shirts. Sam’s collar brooches glimmered- two mirroring silver wings clipped neatly to the points of his muted garnet shirt collar.

Halfway to the bar, you came face-to-face with Steve, who wore a fitted deep navy suit and dress shirt, complimented by a silk burgundy tie. His hair- which had grown longer since you’d last seen him in person was swept back and to one side. He was clean shaven for the event. You realized you were staring, but it helped that he was staring right back.

“You look...”

“Oh m...my” You attempted to finish the sentence for him. Steve laughed, shrugging one shoulder, the drink in his hand sloshing around.

“Not quite what I was going to say- but very close.” He paused, looking you up and down before sweeping you up in a one-armed hug and whispering in your ear “I’ve missed you so much. You look incredible.”

Once back on your feet, you smoothed the front of your black dress and shyly smiled in response, feeling your heart flutter. The snug gown was made of a satin blend, moving and shifting ethereally and just barely swept the floor. Two hair-thin spaghetti straps held it in place, crisscrossing over your back. The neckline was a darting V-shape, stopping just half an inch above Steve’s mark.

You’d convinced yourself to be calm and cool, playing the part of a professional artist giving a talk, but it was hard to not be giddy when Steve looked so damn good. His arms were practically bulging out from the sleeves of his jacket. And the lightly spiced cologne he wore was filling your head up with smoke.

“Where’s um, Bucky?” You ventured to ask, steeling your voice.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

Bucky rolled the last ‘r’ into your ear as he placed his cool metal hand on your bare shoulder, middle finger drumming against the thin strap. You stirred at the temperature, burning against your back as he moved to your right side, smirking at Steve. They must have planned this, you thought, or perhaps brevity between old friends was enough to place them on the same dangerous wavelength. You felt like a fresh carcass, exposed under sunlight while two ravenous vultures circled overheard.

He was dressed completely in black, save for a blood-red pocket square neatly tucked into the breast of his suit. His hair was left loose, one side tucked behind his ear, and he donned his signature 5 o’clock shadow. He didn’t bother to cover his metal hand tonight, which made him all the more fearsome-looking. Bucky must have made it his mission to personify the word feral.

Half-lidded eyes drank in your figure, appreciatively scanning up and down before catching on your left bicep. “You’ve covered up your arm,” He noticed. “Why?” The was an edge of hurt he tried to hide.

The offending black cuff glimmered in the light. “Same reason why I didn’t wear the red.” You replied. You lifted your chin to regard Bucky and he raised his eyebrows in surprise at your declaration.

Steve bobbed his head, just enough to share the message that he understood before plucking a champagne flute from a passing server and placing it in your grasp. You sipped and signaled to the entrance of the exhibit with your stiletto-encased foot, where Kristopher Byrne had just entered with a pamphlet and Tony Stark. “I’ve got to go say hi. Thank you for supporting me.”

It was a conclusive statement, and the thanks, although sincere, was a comment of courtesy to lighten the mood. You quickly squeezed both of their arms before stepping away, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders. The show had just begun, and you were expected to be engaged and conversing all night; you couldn’t kick it off with a lovers’ quarrel in the middle of the floor as much as you wanted to resolve the matter. Bucky would have struggled and there were, unfortunately, other pressing concerns.

The band began to belt out a tune, mellow and full of slow, savory notes. The lobby was half-full at this point, and more were waiting by the door. The boys watched you go, exchanging glances. Bucky was scowling.

“Don’t be like that,” Steve warned, “You got to spend all day with her, pal.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” He was being petulant, he knew. It was easier to be angry than to admit that his feelings were hurt. “Don’t lecture me, Stevie. Just wanna fuckin’ be with her. I’m tired of all this… shit.”

Steve chuckled into his glass as he took a sip, savoring the taste and looking at his friend through the curved angle of the rim. He’d experienced his fair share of Bucky’s seething tantrums; he knew it’d pass.

“Gotta admit, Buck. I liked seein’ ya miffed. You need a firm hand.”

Bucky scowled deeper at his friend’s cheeky comment as he watched your back make nice with a stranger. The itch inside of him was growing darker with every step you took away. He’d been good, played it safe and slow by your- and Steve’s rules, but every time it felt like you might scratch the surface of his desire, you’d backed off. Seeing his mark covered up on your arm only made it worse.

Sending Steve a pained look, Bucky quietly retreated to the bar.

 Kristopher Byrne was a tall and lanky man with silver hair, fingers studded with multiple rings and designer glasses sitting low on his nose-bridge. The suit he wore matched Tony in embellishments, and it was obvious by that alone that they got along swimmingly. Immediately after introducing yourself to him, his solemn expression softened into an ecstatic one. He kissed your hand, raving about how he’d been a fan for years but that you’d always eluded his grasp. You immediately thanked him and asked if he was ready for a stroll through the displays.

Byrne was very interested in the photos you’d taken in Russia, pausing to talk about the social unrest there regarding sexuality. He applauded your shots in Thailand, complimenting the rich colors of Chiang Mai and the quiet moments you captured.

You spent the next half hour walking through the photos with Tony and Byrne, chatting here and there with other guests who had questions. The information cards next to each picture was brief and explained a little bit about the image but hearing it from your point of view was much more valuable to them.

Tony set up the exhibit to first show your Peculiar Pairs series from the travels before introducing the Avengers photos. The range of colors started at full spectrum and highly saturated with your travels before slowly changing into the black and white portraits you shot of each member.

Upon entering the space of black-and-white portraits, he was greeted with a three-by-four-foot framed photo of Steve in stark lighting. He stood in front of a black background in a white t-shirt, looking into the distance as a bright halo illuminated him from behind, catching the fine contour of his lashes and the tip of his sharp nose. The features of his face were lit by another light in front. His expression was almost angelic with parted lips and the barest hint of a smile.

Byrne’s eyes widened as he regarded it, eager to uncover more information about the man captured in the image. The info card in the corner simply read Steven Grant Rogers.

You watched on as Byrne rotated himself around the frame, pondering deeply at Steve’s aspects. Tony smirked and made a snarky comment about how he hoped Byrne was this excited about his own picture.

“Captain America,” Byrne finally exhaled, “Looks like … someone you could sit next to on the subway. Wow. Fantastic.”

You thanked him. Perhaps it was your bias speaking, but you casually mentioned that it was one of your personal favorites. Tony stifled a barking cough.

Byrne led the way down the path, soliciting your process with each session. You were tight-lipped but let loose of what was necessary to keep him interested. It didn’t take much; there was nowhere else neither he nor any other guest could find a close-up portrait of Natasha wrapped tight in a bathrobe, hair wrung-dry and damp, chin resting on her fist, making such fierce eye-contact as if challenging the gaze of the person who’d caught her in a private moment.

Or Tony, a face well-known to smirk, sneer, and blow kisses, suddenly severe and deep in thought, tinted glasses hanging from his teeth.

Thor grinned behind a half-empty glass of beer in his portrait. Sam was reading a book. Bruce was cutting up a breakfast of an omelet and potatoes.

Bucky’s photo elicited gasps from Byrne as well as the crowd he’d started to draw around him. The session you had with him was rather difficult, since he challenged you at every turn. So many images from your roll you’d deemed too stern, an aspect that you didn’t want captured of Bucky. The Winter Soldier was grim and ominous. Bucky, your Bucky (as hesitant as that statement was), was not. You refused to let him resign himself to the Soldier’s shadowy persona, especially not after knowing just how bright he could be.

It had taken almost two hours of careful conversation for him to let you turn off the lights and put on music. You chose to play one of your favorites- a collection of Bill Withers’ essential hits, letting the suave compositions fill the room. He was ready to argue when the first few notes came on, but you strictly shook your head and brushed out his hair with your fingers before moving on to massage his tense neck. Jagged edges, you chanted in your head, take care of those jagged edges.

It was an intimate moment from anyone else’s point of view- but you were so occupied with ensuring a good photo, you had willfully ignored all signs of pleasure from your subject. He leaned into your touch the harder you pressed, and when you reached down the round collar of his black shirt to feel the muscles of his back, he had started panting hard and fast.

You asked him to freeze and quickly ran back to snap a few shots. Then, certain you’d gotten what you needed, you ushered Bucky out of the room with a short apology before anything escalated.

The resulting photograph was Bucky’s side-profile leaning back on the palms of his hand on a stool, grey background blurred and out of focus. The collar of his shirt was stretched and warped around his neck under dense wavy hair. His eyes were half open, distracted by something in the distance, lips closed, corners turned down in a wanton pout. The muscles in his arms were thick and contracted as he gripped forcefully on the seat. There was a fuzzy shadow cast over him, just enough to obscure a corner of his shoulder and clenched jaw.

The card read, James Buchanan Barnes.

Kristopher Byrne clapped and ran the back of his hand over his forehead.

“This one… just takes my breath away. This is really Sergeant Barnes? The Winter Soldier? He looks so helpless… So unlike the image I have of him.”

You searched across the expanse of the room to find the sergeant in question. Next to him, Steve firmly patted his shoulder as they watched you stand beneath Bucky’s picture. With a slight swing of your hips, you unflinchingly moved on.

-

At 8, the band winded down their percussions and a spotlight found Tony at the center of the lobby, microphone in hand. Guests gathered around as he began to speak. Two workers wheeled out a display that was covered up by a black cloth.

“Everyone, may I please have your attention.” When the crowd settled down enough for his liking, he continued effortlessly. “I’d like to formally welcome you to the exhibition. The photographer of the night is a friend of mine; you might know her as the visionary behind the popular Soulmate Series and the subsequent Peculiar Pairs- wow, what a mouthful, huh?” A round of soft chuckles was raised.

You stood next to Natasha and Pepper, taking a final sip of your third champagne flute before handing it off to a server and thanking him. Your heart was picking up a rhythm in apprehension of your approaching time to speak. Tony was leaps and bounds more charming than you, and you could only hope you wouldn’t trip over your feet on your way up.

“She’s taken the world by storm with her humor, wit, and sensitivity on a subject we’ve all heard before, and continues to shed a novel light on Soulmates. To us here at the Avengers Facility, she’s our lovable Public Relations twerp, near and dear to our hearts.” He paused. You were positive you were tearing up as pinpricks burn your nasal passages.

“Please give a warm round of applause to the one, the only…”

Tony flourished his pointer finger over the crowd before finally settling on you, the spotlight zooming over to shine on the water pooling in your eyes. He finally called out a boisterous thundering of your name as the room erupted in applause.

The room blurred as you stepped towards Tony. Mechanical movements and muscle memory guided your actions when he gave you a loving hug and kiss on the cheek. The microphone was suddenly in your hands and you began to speak, praying for whatever god above (or here- Thor, if this might be your territory) to bless you with grace.

“Thank you everyone for coming out tonight. And thank you Tony and Pepper, who’ve made all of this possible for me.”

It felt like there were half a million eyes staring. You only needed to find your footing in four blue ones. Pressing onward, you continued, hoping the quiver of your throat would flatten itself out as you began to chronicle your body of work. It was a speech you’d given before in multiple interviews, you just needed a lead into the meat of the lecture.

“The photos you see tonight of the Avengers were taken with a simple message in mind: humanity. So often we regard them as these supernatural saviors- which they can be and frequently are; Thor, for one, is an Asgardian god.” The crowd lightly chuckled, and Thor, in the back, raised a sizable glass of wine in the air.

“I didn’t want to create more cults of personality around them, I wanted you to see the parts of them you could identify with, juxtaposing the abnormal with the normal. Your heroes eat breakfast, read books, take baths... just like you.” There was contemplation gazing back at you in the massive sea of unblinking eyes. Some people chewed on their lips pensively. Others were nodding along in agreeance.

“They hurt, like you.” You looked at Bucky, who met your gaze with a silent apology, “They love, like you.” You looked at Steve, who bit his lips in a smile. “They have soulmates, like you. And with that, we come full circle.”

You turned your body to face the shrouded display and pinch the cloth between two fingers.

“I’d like to start the auction period off with piece de resistance. As with all our photos tonight, when you bid on them, know that if won, they will be singularly yours. Forever. No duplicates will be made; the files have been destroyed.” Tugging on the sheet with a flourish, you swiftly pulled it off the polished stand to reveal a framed photo of the Maximoff twins. The discarded fabric tumbled to the floor with a flutter.

Pietro stood shirtless and defiant in the photo, black jeans hanging from his hips, the barest hint of his boxers peeking out. His body was smooth and hard, naturally flawless thanks to his inhuman healing abilities. Next to him, Wanda faced away from the camera in a black racerback, her head turned to regard her twin. Her hand drew a line across his chest, wrist relaxed on his far shoulder, polished black fingernails lovingly twirled a bleached curl. Their Marks were in full view, and the audience collectively sucked in a sharp breath of surprise.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff: Avengers, twins, soulmates.”

The room erupted once more in applause. You handed the microphone back to Tony and disappeared into the crowd.

-

You felt ill.

Clutching on the smooth marble countertop, you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dim yellow lighting from the shell-shaped wall scone flooded the room and made you look even more jaundiced. You had held it together for a whole three hours but now it was time to dump your entire stomach’s contents into the closest toilet. You barely made it before the champagne and bits of cheese ejected violently from your mouth.

You waited briefly for the nausea to pass and when it didn’t you returned to discharge the rest of your vomit into the bowl. In the stall a few spaces down, someone flushed before cautiously exiting. Three clicks of footsteps closer and there was a very light knock on the door that separated you from them.

Wanda stood over you, eyebrows tightly knitted in concern. She hoisted you up and the toilet flushed automatically upon registering movement. You wobbled to the counter again, opening the various cabinet doors before finding some mouthwash to gargle.

“Can I help you?” She asked, taking a cloth napkin from the wicker basket in the middle and dabbing around your red mouth after you’d spit into the sink. You sighed deeply, holding your hand over your torso. “It’s been a long month… that was actually more cathartic than traumatic.” She nodded in support.

You took the napkin from her and viciously wiped off the lipstick with it, peppermint smell lingering from your mouth. Your eyes began to focus and un-focus competitively and ghostly trails of color floated all around your head. Wanda followed your gaze with her eyes before pressing a warm palm to your temple.

“I can take it away, if you’d like,” she held up a splayed hand, fingers crackling with that ghostly energy of hers. Exhaling, you only nodded as she returned the heel of her palm to your forehead. A rush of tingles travelled up your body and into her hand, and you feel every inch of your skin crawling towards her. You’d forgotten how exhausted you’ve been for the past month as your head throbbed and ached against Wanda’s touch, mumbling what you hoped was a sincere-sounding thanks.  

When she finishes, Wanda lifts up your head with her finger and smiles. “All better, no?” When she walks you into the lobby, you feel yourself renewed with each step.

-

Steve thinks he can find you in any universe out there. Any timeline. Any dream. He’s got the shape of your body branded inside his brain. Every eyelash, every fine line, every damn pore.

When you cross the room with Wanda on your arm, smiling, he notices the lipstick has been rubbed off and your mouth is pink and raw. When you catch sight of him watching, Wanda departs gracefully and whispers into your ear a sweet note, wishing you a fruitful night onward. Your mind stills at her words, and your heart picks up a slow, steady beat when your feet end up in front of Steve at the edge of the room.

Steve knows he can.

He bends over to pull a lock of wavy hair into his hand and kiss it. The room is silent, conversations have long muted because of auction taking place. You’re no longer present, long gone from the party and adrift only in the blue-green sea of his gaze.

Steve allows the strands back onto your shoulder and they cascade over your back. He lets the scent of clean shampoo and something that is purely you wash over him. The crisp smell of seafoam and orange peels, summer rain, warm laundry in the sun. There’s a sheen layer of sweat in the dip of your neck that he’d love to get a mouthful of. The flame in his chest triggers.

He’ll have to thank Wanda later. Your posture is the most relaxed he’s seen you all night. The stiff square shoulders and domineering gait was a side of you he hadn’t seen before, a sight he couldn’t help but feel proud of as you commanded the room. However, he loved the natural you in front of him now most.

He doesn’t have to hear your words to know how you feel, but listens anyway.

“Thank you,” You smile, looking only at him, vaguely gesturing to the room full of people. Your voice has dropped low and earnest and you squeeze his hand just a little bit before anyone else sees. “I... I couldn’t have done this without you. I would have never done it.”

He nods and bows his head ever so slightly, peering at you through lashes. “I’m happy to have helped. You know that, sweetheart. I know you’re capable of so many great things… I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He rubs the edge of your mouth with a finger.

“Yeah.. I guess you’re used to seeing me like this, huh?” You giggle, embarrassed and remembering all the times you’ve thrown up because of his presence.

“I think even then, I had a feeling. Just… too afraid to come forward. After I learned how to use a computer…” He’s smiling at the memory, “..I used to spend all night looking at your photos… trying to find a picture of you somewhere.”

The thought of Steve, back then, already captivated by anything to do with you causes your breathing to pick up. You suck in air through your nostrils quickly as if you might be suffocating. A long moment passes as you pinch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Honey?” He asks with a smile. He knows what’s coming.

You’re spellbound in his gaze, trapped like a moth, wings already soldered off by the flame. “I’d like to stay the night, I think. With you... and … B-Bucky.”

Steve plucks your hand from your side and kisses each knuckle. “Of course. Tony already said he’ll handle the rest of the show and paperwork. Let me know when you’re ready to go. We’ll take it slow.”

It’s a promise, and he doesn’t have to wait for your next words to know what you want. But he does so anyway. He needs to hear it.

“I’m... ready now.”

When Steve slips his hand over yours and feels the familiar pulse of your thumbprint, he knows. In this universe, this lifetime, or the next, or the next after that, he’d be able to find you. He is yours; you are his. With every step, he lets the fantasies he’s been occupied with disperse, focusing his attention solely on your figure at his side. The hallway muffles the sounds of the party and each step grows louder as you depart hand-in-hand.

 -

In the darkness of his room, your Soulmate kneels and unbuckles the strap of your stiletto, letting his fingers graze over your feet. He’s meticulous as he slips them off one at a time before trailing those calloused palms up your calves underneath the dress. The silky cool fabric brushes his knuckles, a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. You’re trembling against his hold as he continues upward, resting them on the back of your thighs, squeezing gently.

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking.” He presses two kisses to the top of each thigh underneath the dress. His hot breath sends tingles slinking upwards into the pit of your core. “We can stop any time. We can stay in bed together and just sleep. I’d love that.”

You shake your head and place your hands over his, pulling them up even higher, over the apex of your bottom, brushing over your underwear, and catching in the tightness of the fabric. The motion is all he needs, and Steve deftly reaches up to untie the knotted bow at the small of your back.

The satin falls off your shoulders and pools at your feet.

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