#I wrote to halves and thought they fit together check.

[cptg00s3]

All the injured soldiers

Gn reader she/they and she/her dni you will be blocked, you have enough fics for yourself.

Tw for this fic:

Lowkey unfinished since I couldn't find the correct words to merge the two prompts I wrote. Might edit this someday but idk. Definitely not proofread. Like no actual romance

Fic doesn't make sense bc I never played cod.

Further no heavy heavy gore and torture of reader (not writing but very much written amd acknowledged)

Now please enjoy

Task Force 141 was on a mission to retrieve a high-value target, a Russian arms dealer, from an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Moscow. The team currently consisted of Soap, Price, Roach, and [Y/n], a skilled field operative with a knack for infiltration and espionage.

As they approached the warehouse, they noticed that the enemy had set up a complex defense system with multiple layers of security. The team split up, with Soap and [Y/n] taking the main entrance while Price and Gaz went around to the back to create a distraction.

However, as soon as Soap and [Y/n] entered the warehouse, they were ambushed by a group of heavily armed soldiers. They fought their way through, taking down one enemy after another, but it was clear that the opposition was better prepared than they had anticipated.

As they made their way deeper into the warehouse, [Y/n] noticed that Soap was starting to get increasingly agitated. He seemed to be more concerned with finding the target than with their safety, and [Y/n] had to keep reminding him to stay focused and stick to the plan.

Despite their best efforts, the team was eventually overwhelmed by the enemy's superior numbers and forced to retreat. As they were making their way out, [Y/n] was hit by a grenade and knocked unconscious.

When [Y/n] woke up, they were in a dark and dank cell with no idea how much time had passed. They were badly injured, with broken ribs and a concussion, and could barely move. It was clear that they had been captured by the enemy, and [Y/n] knew that they were in for a world of pain.

(Supposed timeskip prob)

The team quickly gathered their gear and prepared to move out. Price led the way, his mind set on getting [Y/n] back safely. As they made their way through the dense forest, they could hear the distant sound of gunfire and the occasional explosion. It was clear that [Y/n] was in the thick of it.

The team finally reached the edge of the enemy's compound. Price signaled for everyone to get into position. Ghost and Roach moved to take out the guards at the entrance, while Soap and Price made their way to the back of the compound.

They could hear [Y/n] screaming in agony from inside one of the buildings. Soap felt his blood boil at the sound. He knew they needed to move quickly before it was too late.

Price kicked down the door, and the team rushed in guns blazing. The enemy soldiers were caught off guard and quickly taken out. But as they moved deeper into the compound, they encountered heavy resistance.

Bullets whizzed past their heads as they ducked behind cover. Soap felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he was hit by enemy fire. He gritted his teeth and continued to fight, his mind focused on getting to [Y/n].

Finally, they reached the room where [Y/n] was being held. The sight that greeted them was gruesome. [Y/n] was tied to a chair, covered in bruises and cuts. Their eyes were swollen shut and blood dripped from their nose.

Soap felt sick at the sight. He had seen his fair share of injuries in his line of work, but this was different. This was someone he cared about, someone he couldn't bear to see in such pain.

Price quickly moved to untie [Y/n], while Ghost and Roach covered their backs. Soap kept his gun trained on the door, ready for any more enemy soldiers that might show up.

As Price freed [Y/n], Soap moved to their side, ready to carry them out of the building. But before they could make their escape, a group of enemy soldiers burst into the room, guns blazing.

The team was outnumbered, and the fight quickly turned into a bloody melee. Soap felt his adrenaline pumping as he fought off the soldiers, his mind focused on protecting [Y/n]. He took a few hits, but nothing could stop him.

Finally, the team emerged victorious, but not without their fair share of injuries. Soap was bleeding from several wounds, but he hardly noticed. All he cared about was getting [Y/n] out of there and back to safety.

As they made their way out of the compound, Soap carried [Y/n] in his arms. They were barely conscious, but Soap could feel their heart still beating. He promised himself that he would do everything in his power to keep [Y/n] safe from now on.

Back at the base, the team worked to patch up their injuries. Soap couldn't stop thinking about [Y/n] and the torture they had endured. He vowed to never let them out of his sight again, to always protect them from harm. He realized that he cared about [Y/n] more than he had ever thought possible, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to them again.

[bittermuire]

a nightlight and a bottle of wine

recently I’ve really loved nezriel and wanted to write a lil thing for them. this will be two parts, this is the first. modern au

---

It’s not like Nesta really knew what she was doing when she moved out. All she knows is that there is a rift between her and Feyre; a scar splitting their shared skin, a wound opening and reopening, never to heal.

And so she’s away. They’ve made their mistakes and let them be. They’ve hurt each other and even tried to love, but sisters love each other too much for love—and so she’s away. The guilt is still there, but farther from her, now. Nesta stirs it into her morning coffee and drinks the sleep, wiping it from beneath her eyes and the lines around her mouth.

Every so often Cassian will text her, inviting her out to dinner or to a work party, and Nesta resists the urge to throttle him. He’s a very smart, thirty-five year old man. He should know what cutting off someone means.

(He knows, of course he knows. She guesses he just thinks it doesn’t apply to him.)

His roguish charm, his smirk, his low voice, all inviting her to one thing—sex—was beginning to exhaust her. It’s a surprising relief to be away from him. She feels like she can wear tank tops and let her hair down and go out without a bra, relieved he won’t be there to stare.

(Was she really so afraid of him?)

So Nesta lives her life and drinks her coffee, wears her tank tops and sleeps in her underwear, finally a woman in the way she’s always wanted to be; she feels discrete from the rest of the world but in a near comforting way. She has no one to disappoint, no one to miss. Her world is confined to very few people and her mind allows for one.

•

But there are things that trip her up. Remaining ties.

One such: the nightlight clipped to her bed. It’s cheap, a gaudy silver. She’s sure Azriel bought it for no more than two dollars.

But she uses it every night.

(This trips her up.)

It’s a routine she’s given to herself, written into the margins of her life; she climbs into bed, smooths the blankets over her legs, grabs her book, opens it on her lap, then twists and switches on the light. It illuminates the page with a pretty, golden sun. She uses it religiously. She thinks that if she lost it, some intrinsic part of her might be lost as well, and this frightens her.

Remaining ties should be snipped. These last threads should be spooled up, put away, hidden in the bottom drawer.

She switches it on anyway, watches the light trace the letters.

(Sometimes she thinks she is the black stamp of letters. The utter bleakness of them on the smooth page. Sometimes she thinks she is what ruins the paper. She is what ruined the paper. There’s a reason she is here and they are there.)

•

November 19th.

Happy birthday to me.

She buys a cake from the supermarket and blows out the candle.

There’s a knock at the door, late at night. Not thinking to check, she goes to open it, and there stands Azriel, still in the doorway, bottle of wine in hand.

“Happy birthday,” he says bluntly.

She lets him in for some reason she still doesn’t understand, and they end up drinking a glass together. It’s from Cassian, the wine—his favorite. Azriel tells her that Cassian didn’t think she’d take it from him.

“So he asked you,” she says.

He smiles. “Because you like me.”

1:00 AM, and they’re still drinking. They barely talk. They just sit; they sit on the kitchen stools, then the rickety chairs, then the floor, then the couch, then back to the floor. His cheeks are pink, his words slurred.

“Why’d you come?” she asks, peering down at where he lays, splayed out, on the carpet.

(He’s not the kind for favors, she knows that.)

Opening his eyes, he fixes his gaze on her. He smiles sleepily.

“Happy birthday, Nesta.”

•

She doesn’t really celebrate for the holidays. Her apartment is bare, save a pair of twinkling bells on the kitchen counter, tied with a red ribbon. Sometimes when she’s cooking she’ll give them a little ring.

The letter comes in the mail—from Feyre, clearly put there by her own hand. It’s an invitation to dinner, for the winter solstice. They’re celebrating early this year because they’re going out of town for a few weeks.

(Please don’t feel pressured to come. We were going to leave you be but Az, since he’s so considerate, thought you might appreciate an invite.)

Nesta picks up her phone and texts Feyre a simple no thanks.

•

The next morning, she opens her door to a bottle of wine. Its neck is tied with a cherry red ribbon, and there’s a note—“If you’re ever lonely, give me a call. It’s my favorite.”

She doesn’t need to see who it’s from to know.

She smiles and picks it up, taking it inside.

•

It bites, the loneliness.

She wasn’t prepared for the quiet.

She traded in insults and jabs and sweaty hands at dinner tables for nothing, nothing, nothing. Silence in the shower, silence over breakfast. Over time, it’s begun to grate on her skin, sift between the strands of her hair, and she feels like she’s swimming a meter below the surface, ears clogged, vision blurred.

And slowly, she’s started to cry; she cries when the silence is too loud, when her aloneness is real, when she realizes the ugly truth of it all. She’s alone, she has nobody, she’s alone.

She picks up her phone and dials his number. “Let’s drink your wine.”

A small quiet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I know, Nesta,” he laughs. “I’ll be there.”

•

They don’t drink at all, actually. She starts crying again the minute she sees his face.

“Nesta?”

•

“I’m fine, really.”

They’re walking down the aisle of the grocery store, weeks later.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m doing better, I am.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. Pick a flavor. We’ll eat it, we’ll watch a movie.” He looks her up and down, brow creased. “You need two things—no, make that three things.”

She huffs a laugh, sticking her hand into the freezer and pulling out a carton. “What?”

“Sleep, ice cream, and company.” He grins. “And now you’ve got me.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.”

•

He’s seen her beautiful; he’s seen her ugly. He’s seen her in her rattiest apron with flour crusted into her fingernails. He’s seen her laugh so hard she cries, watched her slam her head into an open cupboard door, driven her to the hospital when she sliced her hand open with a knife. They’re together a lot, she realizes. They’re not halves; they’re one and one, and one and one make two, and they stand as two together on sidewalks, squinting at menus in the windows of restaurants, and they pet dogs in the park (Nesta always asks, because Az gets shy), and they take walks at midnight, and they live their lives contentedly next to each other’s. She starts to wonder if he splits his life into two—into Cassian and Rhys and Mor and Feyre, and into her, the girl who walked away. She’d like to know why he followed her.

Sometimes she’ll catch herself staring. Even before Cassian, she’d thought Azriel was the most beautiful of the three; all graceful, sloping shadows, soft and deep eyes, curling black hair. Her heart doesn’t know what to do anymore. It skips a beat when she sees him, but calms when she’s near him. It races when he leans close, falls to steadiness when he slings his arm over her shoulders. She can’t decide if she loves him like this or loves him like that. He means so much to her, means so many different things, that to give him a singular word wouldn’t fit.

She calls him Azriel, Az, Steve, Steven Shadow, Mr. Shadow, Ralph, Ron, He of the Candied Pecans, You. He responds to all of it. Recently he told her that it wasn’t because of the name, but because of the voice—(of course I don’t know who Ralph is, Nesta, but your voice, it’s your voice you use for me)—and she felt warm for reasons she couldn’t understand.

She shows up unannounced at his apartment when it’s a bad night. He does the same.

•

“Tell me the truth,” she begins, tipsy. “Did you like me before?”

“What?”

“Did you like me before?”

He frowns. “Elaborate.”

“Before you learned I’m a nice person. Back at the townhouse. When I hated everyone and was rude to you.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little. “I always liked you,” he says, and then his face settles into something like sadness. Nesta watches him closely. “I didn’t like… the way you made me feel, though. I’d see you down the hall, tired and everything, a stick of a person, and Rhys would make some joke, and I’d hate him.”

She blinks.

He looks down. “I’d never hated him before.”

There’s a tension between them. It’s common enough to be recognizable, but not enough to be familiar. She’s on edge, unsure.

The silence seeps in.

“And I hated myself, too,” he says. His eyes flick back up to hers.

Her breath catches in her chest. “I hated myself because I didn’t do anything. So I stayed away.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, overwhelmed. Everything is building; everything is quiet. His eyes are deep and dark and swirling. He shakes his head slightly, leaning closer, slowly, slowly, and she sees it all happen—he takes her face in his hands. She can see the stray strand of hair on his forehead, the one eyelash resting by his nose, the mole right above his mouth.

“I watched you fade,” he breathes. “I watched them pull you around.”

She twines one finger into his hair, trying to bring him closer, trying to have him closer. Come here, Azriel. Come with me. Be with me, love me, because I love you.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, because it’s all she can say.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, and kisses her.

•

“Wait,” he says, reaching up.

“What?”

He touches the nightlight. “You kept this?”

She laughs, curled into his side, and says, “Of course I did.” He drops a kiss to her hair. “They all bought me books. You made it easy to read them.”

—-

@acosfisfeysandpropaganda I finally wrote it!!

[mewtwowarrior]

I was thinking about switching around Ark’s backstory and oops wrote a whole fic about it on my phone.

-

Ever since the Occupation took over, Ark had been waging her own private war against them. Working alone, there wasn't much she could do but irritate them. However, that was good enough for her.

Things changed, though, when she kept hearing talk of a Renegade in Argon. They wore Tron's circuits and had caused quite a lot of trouble for the Occupation.

Figuring that both of them could use an ally, Ark carefully crossed the Grid, heading to the small city that was making a big name for itself.

It took her some time to find the Renegade, knowing how the vigilante lifestyle worked, she waited until they showed up, being pursued by a handful of Sentries.

The Renegade had a good lead on them, so Ark quietly stepped in, activating her helmet and surprising the Occupation troops.

Using her staff, she quickly took care of them and headed off in the last direction she had seen the Renegade. Hopefully, she could close the gap.

It took her a little while to find the Renegade resting in an out of the way spot.

The Renegade, panicked that they were cornered by a strange program with a mask, fought Ark just enough to try and get her to back off.

Ark, on the other hand, handily used her staff to defeat the exhausted Renegade.

She took a step back, moving the end of her staff away from their throat, "You're not Tron." Even with the echo, she still managed to sound disappointed.

Confused, and just a little insulted, Beck responded with the deepest, grumpiest voice he could manage, "What makes you say that?"

Ark gestured to them, "I've never been able to defeat Tron. That, and I know what he sounds like with a helmet on."

"Oh," Beck replied, using his natural voice this time.

Ark shook her head, "It doesn't matter, I've heard about what you've been doing, and I want in."

This conversation was getting stranger by the moment. Beck takes a moment to compose himself before responding, "It's not that easy."

Ark nodded, "I figured that." She took off her disc, "You can check my memories. I used to be a System Monitor, but when the Occupation took over, I started doing what I could to fight back. I was doing the same thing you are, except not as successfully. Or as flashy."

Beck eyed her and her disc, "It's not up to me." He gave it some more thought before replying, "Meet me later on the outskirts of town. I don't know how long I'll be, but I'll find you."

Ark nodded and put her disc away, "Sounds good to me. See you later." It seemed a little risky, but if she could team up with the Renegade, maybe they could really cause some trouble for the Occupation.

Beck headed off as well, making the long trip back to Tron's lair.

He reported in, telling Tron how his mission went first, then saying, "I also ran into somebody who wants to join the resistance."

Tron raised an eyebrow, "You don't have to ask me for permission, if you think they're a good fit, then you can bring them in."

Beck shook his head, "Here's the thing, she said she knew you. So, I figured I'd check to see if there were any more secrets before I committed to anything."

Tron frowned, "No. There's no more secrets. Did she say anything else?"

Beck nodded, "She said she was a System Monitor and offered her disc for me to check. She could be legit."

Tron thought this over, "The Occupation took control of all the System Monitors long ago. If what she's saying is true, then she's somehow managed to stay alive all this time. She could be useful to the resistance. We'll have to be careful, though, it could be another trap."

Beck looked to Tron, "I know. I was careful, I told her to meet me on the outskirts of town at an unspecified time. Once we spot her, we can scope it out to check for an ambush."

Tron nodded, "Good. Let's go see who our new mystery friend is."

Ark had chosen just about the quiestest place she could find. There wasn't anything going on in this part of the city, no inhabitants, no Occupation, nothing. She kept her helmet on as she looked out towards the Outlands, though she often scanned the area around her, looking for the Renegade or any trouble that might come her way.

Tron and Beck observed her for a while, checking the area for any sign of any traps or hidden enemies. Upon finding nothing suspicious, they finally approached her, standing side by side while wearing Tron's circuits and their masks.

Ark gave them a nod and closed the gap, standing in front of them.

Taking a leap of faith, she deactivated her helmet and revealed her face, "My name is Ark. I used to be a System Monitor. I've been fighting the Occupation alone and I'd rather do it in the company of Renegades." She takes off her disc, "There's plenty of proof in my memories that everything I said is true."

Tron stepped forward and silently took her disc, then turned around with Beck so they could watch and talk without her interjecting.

"Do you know her?" This was the first thing Beck whispered.

Tron nodded, then activated some of her older memories, showing the both of them on several assignments and going up against each other in the Games.

"Yes. And, all of these memories are clean, they match mine exactly."

Beck seemed relieved at that, and they checked some of her other memories. Nothing seemed altered or out of place.

Finally, they turn around, and Tron hands Ark her disc, "Follow us."

Ark puts her disc back on, and, copying them, pulls out her light cycle to follow them across the treacherous Outlands.

It's a long trek and Ark does her best to memorize it. Once they reach the secret lair, they all enter and head into a large room with an amazing view.

Ark's looking around at everything in fascination, trying not to gawk, but failing.

Finally, she composes herself and deactivates her helmet, "This place is amazing!"

"You'll be spending a lot of time here, so you'll get used to it," Tron replied, then removed his own helmet.

Ark gasped, "Tron! You really are alive!"

He nodded, then looked to Beck, who took his helmet off as well, "And, this is Beck. We've been working together for a while."

The three of them caught up, filling in what each had been doing since the Occupation took over.

After some discussion, Tron gestured to Ark, "We'll have to get you outfitted up, but, there's only two halves of my disc.

Ark spread her arms out a little to show off her shorter, bulkier, and female frame, "That's fine, I don't think anyone's going to mistake me for you, even if we wear the same circuits."

Tron shook his head, "No, but that's not the point. We need to present a united front, so that the Occupation knows that our numbers are growing  and that we're not backing down."

He looked to Beck, "You made your own Tron circuits before, think you could put something together for her?"

Beck nodded, "Yeah, it'll be easy, I can copy over the circuit data from our discs. If you're okay with it."

Tron gave Beck a single nod, "Go for it."

Ark handed Beck her disc, and, after a little tinkering, he had two copies of Tron's circuits. He kept one on his disc and uploaded the other to Ark's.

"I made a copy for myself, so that way, we can share the other half of the disc."

Ark smiled, "Thanks." When the files are done transferring, she takes her disc from Beck and redocks it.

The update doesn't take long, as soon as her eyes signal that the process is complete, Ark takes off her disc.

She looks through the options, and, not wanting to wait to try it out, she selects Tron's circuits and puts the disc back where it belongs.

As soon as the change is done processing, her personal circuits disappear in favor of the Renegade circuits.

She proudly admires her new outfit, and when she's done, Tron makes it official, "Welcome to the resistance."

[itslucyluna]

Fan Fic Tag Game 2020

Thank you @ailec-12 for tagging me! 

Ao3 Name: Lucy_Luna

Fandoms: I was active in the HP, Spider-Verse, and ATLA/LoK fandoms this year.

1. Fic that was the hardest to write/you spent the most time on: The fic I’ve spent the most time on is Long Way From Home, the eighth story in my Severus has a little sister AU series. It’s not really been difficult to write per se, just time-consuming. There’s just been so much I’ve had to write to tell the story.

2. Fic you spent the least time on/easiest to write: I think it’s no surprise the stories I’ve spent the least time on this year are the one-shots I’ve written. Like My Ancestors Behind Me, Names, The Sky is Wrecked and Full of Rotting Clouds. However, I would say my easiest to write has been To Make The Bridge. Once @ailec-12 gave me the idea for it, the story just really came together in no time. It’s essentially all written except for an epilogue I’m still deciding on.

3. Longest fic: The longest fic I have worked on this year is They Didn’t Know We Were Seeds. I haven’t really written a lot for it this year though. I would say the longest story I’ve put the most work into this year is Long Way From Home.

4. Shortest fic: My Ancestors Behind Me. It’s 836 words.

5. Fic you were nervous to post: I really don’t get nervous before posting. However, I think the story I felt most uncertain about before posting was The Prince's Return. I wasn’t sure what kind of audience there would be for it. However, now that I’ve posted, there does seem to be a small amount of intrigued readers, so I’m happy!

6. How do you choose your titles: I really don’t have a set way of doing it. Like, I guess I just try to find something that sort of tells what the story is about. For example, with my Spider-Verse stuff, there’s one story called An Unexpected Visitor. Surprise surprise, during the story someone unexpected visits. Lots of the stories written in that fandom have uncreative titles like that.

7. Fave fic you read: I think I’ll pick a one-shot and a multi-chapter. I discovered and really enjoyed pretend you don't have one by TheTartWitch. It’s an AU nonlinear one-shot about Severus Snape from the start of his time at Hogwarts until I wanna say shortly before Harry becomes a student. My favorite multi-chapter is Salvage by MuffinLace. It’s an atla AU where Zuko ends up on Hakoda’s ship and ends up basically being adopted by him. I absolutely loved and am loving seeing Zuko become his kid and a part of the crew.

8. Fave fic you wrote: That’s hard. I don’t think I could say I have an all-time fav. I liked writing everything, but To Make The Bridge was especially enjoyable. It’s been a really relaxing story to put together actually.

9. Fave comment: This one from @ailec-12:

“AHHH, the feelings of this chapter! Finally, Sirius realises that Severus's odd behaviour is a consequence of the abuse he suffers (suffered) at home. I like that we have the same headcanons regarding how Sirius reacted when arguing with his parents. I think it fits him a lot that he felt better for "earning" his punishments without giving up on doing something to fight them.

Snape had never taken anything from him or James or anyone else lying down. Why would he do the same with his parents? What made them so different? Just because they were supposedly authority figures he let them belittle and hurt him for no good reason? That didn't sound right. Sometimes, even with the professors, Severus would row with them over detentions and lost points.

Ohhh, but this quote. I, too, think that the reason why Severus never backed down from a fight at Hogwarts is to regain some control. Whether it was fighting the Marauders even outnumbered or confronting professors, he was convincing himself he was not a coward, he could start some fights and win them. As always, this is my headcanon, since we hardly have any information about day-to-day affairs in the Marauders' Era. It's so fun to try and guess, though! Especially when you see some of your guesses reflected in a fic.

Also, Sirius realising that he's behaved somewhat similarly to his own parents with Severus and, right away, feeling crushed by guilt is everything I needed to read today. His apology is another big step to improve their relationship further. I love reading character development and I wonder how sixteen-year-old Severus would react to it —whether he would still be willing to accept that apology or would firmly believe it's all a trap.

The scene with the chocolate frog card was adorable and just the cherry on top Sirius's apology needed. It also reminded me I'd sorta forgotten about them in my fic, hahaha. I'll have to introduce them as a tribute to your story!

He'd have to find a way to make the friendship he made with this boy-Snape stick and pull him over to the right side of things when they were the same age.

Yesssss. Now, I can't stop picturing the Marauders (plus Lily) introducing Severus to Remus's parents. So freaking adorable.

And that cliffhanger after all the wonderful feelings!!! I can't wait to keep reading!”

Without it, To Make The Bridge would not exist. And as I said before, it’s been a lot of fun writing it. So this is my fav comment this year :)

10. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: I won’t, but I guess if there’s any story I’d rewrite ever it’s They Didn’t Know We Were Seeds. It’s a hundred chapters. I think I could definitely go back and combine a lot of chapters and practically halve the length as well as just improve what’s there to be more fleshed out. As for what I could definitely expand on, it’d be my Severus has a little sister AU series. I already have plans for a story after Long Way From Home, but that story has already got me thinking about even more stories for the series. 

11. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning: Ah so many choices. I’ve been writing a little bit here and there for all of my WIPs lately. Here’s a little something from what will be the second chapter of The Prince's Return:

“I can’t say I know what happens after this for you, but it seems to me whatever negotiations Jinora and Tenzin have with the spirit world on your behalf will end well and everything will be put right again,” he concluded, smiling in reassurance at the nonplussed boy.

Zuko stepped back and out of his grip. “Nothing ever goes that smoothly for me,” he declared like a threat — or, maybe, a warning.

Iroh showed his palms to the boy. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he said. His grandfather had never seemed that unlucky to him. In fact, Iroh had thought he was always very lucky. Against all odds, he’d changed the world for the better.

12. What was your goal for your fics this year? Did you meet it?: I didn’t have any hard goals really. I wanted to finish a few things, which I did. However, I also started a few things, so, I’m not really writing less. Which is actually okay. That was also something I hoped I would do this year. Write more than I didn’t. 

13. What is your goal for your fics next year?: Finish Long Way From Home, To Make The Bridge, and The Prince's Return.

14. Highlight of your fandom year: The new season of The Umbrella Academy? That was fun and I liked checking out the new fanfics that came out after it too. Also, The Haunting of Bly Manor was fun to binge around Halloween.

15. Highlight of your personal year: I finished a couple of traditionally published books, as well as a cross-stitch and am halfway done with another.

[lya1989]

Lover

aka Love her

Before you read my analysis I would like to say that I’m gay. so is the song. if you think so too, then proceed along.

There will be three components to this analysis,

1. the lyrics

2. the video/visual

3. the song/melody/references to things

and how they all made the song gay so I don’t have to invest my gay in it like Hayley Kiyoko does with songs she likes.

Let’s start with the lyrics:

Verse 1 We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January This is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

The first line has a similar vibe to New Year’s Day. Not only are they celebrating special occasions together but also staying with each other on all the days in between said holidays. (i like to remind you about the christmas tree in ME mv)

The second lines hint at having a place (taylor’s tribeca loft) together which definitely makes it easier for Taylor and her lover (i love this rhyming phrase. a lot) to spend time together in private. No paparazzi means no possible media backlash. They don’t have to fear that strangers are watching, talking and screaming cause it happened before. (see hear: Wonderland)

Not only privacy, they could also “make the rules”. They don’t have to conform to societal pressures, such as whether to come out or to stay in the closet. In their house, (which is basically a multi-story closet) they could be free. Loving each other is never taboo or restricted. In fact, they could control the narrative, who truly knows them, by inviting them to their place. Like their closest friends and family.

Also:

Following the 2nd line analysis, I’m skipping the chorus (which i will touch on later) and going straight gay into verse 2.

Verse 2 We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Again emphasis on making the rules and the call. Only they could choose who knows and who don’t. (Also Taylor and Karlie have more mutual friends with each other than Taylor and her “boyfriends”)

And also a little jealousy from Taylor. This is not unexpected since Karlie is stunting with J**h. There’s also an alleged wedding, so Taylor’s feelings are completely valid. 

“Three summers” is an important piece of information because it gives us a timeline. Joe and Taylor started “dating” around uh... time for a google search.

PopSugar wrote 

But it doesn't make sense for Taylor to get into a relationship with Joe literally two weeks after she broke up with Tom unless he’s a rebound or a contract beard.

A verified contributor to TripAdvisor explained

Let’s say Joe is a rebound but they started dating during fall. That means they only had two summers together at the very most.

So no. Joe is not a rebound which means...

Do you know who has more than three summers with Taylor? Karlie.

In fact, they met at 2013 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. 

Ok, then what happened on 28 September 2016?

Since they had the Big Sur trip in 2014, I can safely say they were best friends.

As time passed, feelings would definitely be developed into something more.

“You’re my best friend” - You Are In Love, released on 27 October 2014

“I don’t want you like a best friend.” - Dress, released on 10 November 2017

“You're my, my, my, my lover” - Lover, released on 16 August 2019 (today!)

I will explain it as we go further. Now on to the long-awaited chorus.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (Forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my lover

Taylor, like we all do, have questions. She uses this style of writing in her songs, (eg “are we out of the woods yet?” “isn’t it, delicate?” “who could stay?”), and it’s always in the chorus and usually repetitive. 

The lyrics in the chorus are quite straightforward. And they are written that way because they provide such a simple frame to showcase such complex emotions.

“Can I go where you go?” shows so much longing and yearning to be with Karlie (and im so fucking soft for this). When you first hear this, the first thought that comes to your head is why can’t Taylor go where her lover go. Then the realisation hits you that if her lover was Joe going wherever he goes isn’t much of a problem but if Taylor’s lover is Karlie, a woman, that’s where all the complications lie. Homophobia, media backlash and people with nothing better to do would just create more hate towards both of them.

“Can we always be this close forever and forever?” This line has a implies that they are physically together and all is well. But then she worries about when is the next time she could be with Karlie again. Will it be a long time?

Metaphorically speaking, if when something big happens, will Karlie be distant from her. 

The third line shows Taylor’s wildest dreams that one day they could go out together without any of the complications and when they are home together, Karlie will stay forever.

(Left: Taylor and fireworks. Right: Karlie and Taylor and fireworks)

Welcome to Bridge City

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue All’s well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Remember you asked what happened on 28 September 2016? 

2016 is most probably the worst year for Taylor in her career. Let say that she wrote reputation in late 2016 to early 2017. Since she not only writes about recent experiences but also nostalgia (and reputation is about finding TRUE love despite being hated by said people who has nothing better to do), it would be fitting to write about Karlie. More specifically, the realisation when she loves Karlie romantically.

In this city, the lyrics mimic a wedding speech said by the groom/bride. It is a common gesture to stand as the bride/groom says their wedding vows to each other. 

The words “borrowed” and “blue” references to an old traditional wedding rhyme on what a bride should wear at her wedding:

“something old

something new

something borrowed

something blue

and a sixpence in her shoe.”

“All’s well that ends well” means that if the outcome of a situation is a happy one, it cancels out all of the unpleasantness faced on the journey. To Taylor, ending up with Karlie is the best possible outcome, and all the hardships will be worth it.

So it other words, marriage is something Taylor and her lover wants. Usually, before someone gets married, they are engaged. So I conclude that 28 September 2016, three summers ago, is the official anniversary of their engagement. (gasp in mock shock) (they might be engaged around August in Wyoming see Karlie insta)

Not to be worried, she will be overdramatic because drama loves her. And she will be TRUE to Karlie because what they have is TRUE love.

(if you do not know what “all eyes on us” means click here)

In the lyric video, word “overdramatic” has a space in between. Over dramatic as if she’s finally going to stop being in the center of drama? (not that she can help it when drama loves her)

I love the phrase “dirtiest jokes” because it shows how comfortable they are with each other. (this is funny cause Taylor’s parents would leave the room just to not hear dress)

And now they are bound together by love, Taylor will always treat Karlie as her other half, hence saving a seat (beside her,  at the head/end of the table facing each other, etc), as they are of equal standing. Two halves of a whole. Yin and Yang.

Even with all the proof mentioned above, hets be like “but Taylor sang the magnetic force of a man.”

First of all, it’s a publicity stunt. She does it all the time (eg naming her song style)

Second,

(check out @badcode )

3. Analysis on everything else

Lover is the complete opposite of The Archer. It has 1989 sounds with a county feel that make you feel soft with a tinge of sentimentality and wonder.

The lyrics are reputation styled which talks about TRUE love and contentment. 

The bridge, in particular, is a glow up from speak now.

Also the usage of feminine terms of endearment such as babydoll, darling, dear, honey in her songs. I honestly cannot imagine taylor calling any of her “boyfriends” them.

(im just like god is a woman and her name is taylor swift)

Some fun facts that might blow your mind (click link):

-Track 3

-The length of Lover is 3:41. and 1:43 means i love you

-Why You Are In Love is not entirely about her friend’s perspective. Also

TLDR; Lover is a song about Taylor and Karlie’s wedding.

There’s a reason why the song (and the album) is called Lover and not Husband.

[bygosscarmine]

We Who See Thestrals

A Harry Potter post-canon fic

Luna Lovegood X George Weasley

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

Read Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4

5: A Partnership is Premonitioned

Luna was so nervous. "Did you ever ask Ginny for ideas?"

"Ginny is the most pragmatic person I know, and that ranking includes my mother. You know why Fred and I were the oddballs in our family? There are other pranksters, other jokers, other showy types. Fred and I are pretty practical ourselves, a good bit of the time. But we always had this wild imaginative streak."

George was clearly growing absorbed in what he was reading. He didn't seem to notice the shift to present tense about his twin.

The witch came down with a pot of potent herb tea for Luna and a coffee press for George, lingered for a second hoping to flirt a bit, but finally gave up. Luna watched her tea bloom in the clear pot, like a very slow-moving spell, swishing it slightly with her wand from a distance, then pouring.

"This is brilliant, Luna," George said, flipping a couple of pages over. "The fortune-telling card set particularly--and your writing is lovely. I think we can lift it almost directly to the cards for printing, when we design them. You'll get a percentage, of course. For the concept, and the design work. I'll have to get a publisher involved, but that means not having to manufacture it myself or set up the manufacturing. What we have that Muggles don't, of course, is that a little witch or both her and her friend can affect the cards. I can't believe no one's thought of this!"

He set his hand down on the paper, which she'd spent extra time illuminating with lavender and mauve calligraphy, as if he was holding a beloved pet.

"You wrote here that if the cards are successful we can move on to the board and the tea packaging guide. Why do you think the cards come first?"

"Because it's a little more complex and could be very attractive visually. I noticed in school that boys were very competitive about their chocolate frog card collections, sometimes, but that girls tended to have different hierarchies around them. The ones that had deeper colors or more interesting actions. Boys picked up on these, of course--particularly if they liked trading, they'd start looking for the ones that were popular for those reasons.  So you can have a sort of collector's appeal going, and possibly make expansion packs."

"Did you do well in Trelawny's class?" George asked, grin broader than ever.

"Oh, no," said Luna. "I have imagination but I'm also pragmatic in ways she didn't particularly like. I think I'd be very good at telling fortunes if I didn't want to tell people the truth about the future, and instead could just make it up. But I don't want to."

He chuckled and turned back to her notes. After a moment, George admitted, "The little dream potions were good, but lacked that complexity. And any time we tried to get them more complex it started going into territory I was pretty sure would have parents banning their children from buying from us. As it stands, they don't have longevity with kids. This feels like something that will grow up with them."

He rubbed his eyes a second, and poured out his coffee.

"Damning dragons. I don't know why saying that is making me emotional. Sorry."

"Don't apologize for feeling something. It's when you don't feel something that there's something wrong. I had meant to apologize today for what I felt yesterday, but I think I won't."

"Suffice to say, Luna, this is great stuff. I can't believe you stayed up so late working on this--I hope it's because you're excited about it, too?"

Their eyes met for a long moment. She was excited. She didn't know how much of that was relief, but it was not all relief. He understood her ideas, and thought she had something to offer.

"Luna," he began, but the waitress came in and said, "Are we going to get a bit of a sweet, then? Possibly a sandwich?"

"No, no," he said. "Unless…are you hungry?"

"I just ate breakfast," Luna admitted regretfully.

"Wave me down if you change your mind," said the girl, with what may have been a sniff.

"Ron was a bit miffed when I said he'd have to wait until Rhodendra came in," George said. "So I don't want to linger too long. Well, I want to, but I try not to be too terrible of a boss, even when it's my own brother."

"Do you mind if I ask Hermione about the board? She's not a fan of Divination but I'm sure she's read up on the Muggle systems to do comparisons. Their zodiacs, and so on."

"Sure, go ahead. Just make sure you don't let Ron get wind of it and put it into her head to ask for a consulting fee."

"Should we not pay her a consulting fee?"

"Oh, certainly. But I'd hate to let Ron think he thought of it first."

They went over some of her other ideas, which felt very half-formed by daylight, but which George seemed to be able to fill in with his own halves. By the time his coffee was gone, and her tea was sipped away, they were rambling back and forth in the way of dreamers, and he held the door for her as they went into the shop without missing a beat in their discussion of whether enchantment or potion-based work would be best for bubbles with images.

"George, I've got to go," Ron said, looking distressed as they walked in. "I was just going to close up until you got back."

With a crack, he apparated out of the shop.

George went very pale. He cursed under his breath and went charging up the stairs. After following him a few steps, Luna stayed where she was--she didn't even have keys to lock the shop. She grabbed some of the unenchanted playing cards and started dealing them to keep herself occupied.

Several minutes later, she heard something from upstairs like a thump, but George did not come down, so she went to check it out. After all, there was a bell up there, too. She was glad the stairs creaked a little, so if he didn't want to see her, he could go back out the cabinet.

Instead, she found him leaning on some crates, concentrating with his wand out.

"My mother is home," he told her distractedly, "she doesn't know of anything happening to anyone. I'm running out of energy to get my patronus to Ron's place."

"Ron didn't look panicked, like something really terrible had happened," Luna said. "I could be wrong, but maybe one of the little ones got hurt or something?"

George's wand hand dropped, and he rubbed his eyes with the other. Only he didn't take his hand away from them when he was done.

"You're probably right." The words sounded forced. "It's fine, Luna."

"You can go, if you want, George. I'll stay here."

He laughed--the sound as ephemeral as the large clever-looking bird that soon appeared in a swirl of silver. It pecked at his head before vanishing back into the wand, though only Luna saw that.

"Thing is, I've apparated in the middle of things where I'm not wanted before. Like you pointed out, not everything is a dark magic disaster. Sometimes it's just a broken bone or a couple's spat."

His eyebrows were knitting together, and he started to turn to the cabinet, avoiding her eye.

She darted forward and caught his arm.

"Don't," she said.

He looked down in surprise. She was surprised herself, at the strength in her hand to hold him there, at the decision in her own voice.

"Don't go to be alone. Not when you're feeling scared like this. You don't want to be by yourself, do you?"

" I don't know what else to do. I'm not fit company for anyone, not right now."

"I don't need you to be company," Luna said, astonished. "I was offering to be your company, not the other way around."

He stayed where he was, wrist caught in her hand, not moving. So she let go, to give him the choice. Maybe she misunderstood. Maybe being by himself--

He held her hand fast. Stepped forward, eyes on hers. He was too close to be just accepting her offer of company, so she folded him into a hug as he hesitated.

-

Read Chapter 6

[vincentbriggs]

Hello! I absolutely adore your work and you’ve really inspired me to be brave and tackle an 18th century sewing project! I was wondering how you sew the lining onto coats and waistcoats. I can’t find any resources on the matter and I thought I’d ask you since your pieces are always so stunning. Thank you for your time!

That’s wonderful! I’m so happy to hear that and I hope your sewing project turns out well!

Alrighty, linings, yes. That’s something I couldn’t find anything about on the internet for a very long time, and it’s completely different from modern construction methods. It’s quite time consuming, as I do about 80% of it by hand, but the results are worth it.

I’ll use the photos from some of my blog posts to illustrate. I’m not sure how historical you want to go with the interfacing, etc, so I’ll just recount exactly how I do it and you can decide how much of this information to use in your own project!

First, I tack buckram interfacing onto the front edges, and onto the pocket flaps. (I make the buckram by putting fabric stiffener on linen or cotton scraps.)

I fold the edge inwards around the buckram like so, and press it. I tack it in place carefully with some hand stitching, making sure it doesn’t show any big stitches on the surface. Burnley & Trowbridge has a video on putting in buckram, and they have other related tutorials for stuff like covering and attaching buttons!

I put the lining on the back of the pocket flaps, fold the edges inwards, and stitch it down like so:

That’s not a great picture, hmm, here’s a better one from the coat I’m working on:

The 18th century term for this stitch is le point a rabattre sous la main, and it’s the very best way to put in 18th century coat & waistcoat linings. You just sort of catch the edge with a little slanting stitch and come up right under the edge of the lining.

I cut holes for the pockets. These should be a bit lower and narrower than the location marked out for the pocket flap, so they’ll hide nicely underneath. I cut a horizontal-ish slightly frown shaped line and a little snip in the middle of the bottom edge of that, and press the edges back. Hopefully this picture explains that better than the sentence I just wrote:

I sew the two halves of the pocket bag together (usually by machine) and carefully hand stitch it to the pocket opening. For the half of the pocket bag that’s attached to the lower edge of the hole I cut another little downward snip and fold the edges back in the same sort of V shape so that it fits.

Now, here’s one of the really weird parts of 18th century construction. The buttonholes and buttons go on before the lining!

I do the buttonholes through the outer fabric and the buckram layer. Mark out the holes, cut them open with a chisel, overcast them with a little bit of whipstitching to keep the edges from shifting, and then go ‘round them with a buttonhole stitch. I like to use DMC cotton pearl for the buttonhole stitch.

Once the buttonholes are in I mark out the location of the buttons and sew them on. I carefully hand stitch the pocket flaps in place. Then, once everything else on the front is done, I put the lining on. It goes on just like the lining on the pocket flaps.

I carefully cut slashes in the lining behind all the functional buttonholes, and carefully fold the edges back. I usually spray a little bit of water on them and it makes them easier to fold back nicely. I’ve had success with lightweight cotton linings, but I find silk taffeta is the best behaved material for this technique. (I’ve only ever used it for linings twice though, it’s expensive.) The green waistcoat in these pictures has a silk taffeta facing along the edge of a heavier cotton twill lining, because the cotton wouldn’t have done this as nicely.

I stitch the edges down all around the buttonholes, which is rather tedious and weird, but it’s what appears on extant 18th century waistcoats and it works well.

I’ve also seen pictures where the place behind the buttonholes is like a little row of squares patched in together, so that the edges of each square get folded in nicely and are right up against the side of the buttonhole, but I haven’t tried that technique yet.

Now that the front is fully lined & finished I sew the centre back seams on both the outside and the lining. I baste the unlined back to the front to check the fit. (Which is a really great thing about the front being all finished before being attached to the back! You can button it up and get the fit exactly right!)

I sew the side seams and shoulder seams, fold in all the raw edges of the back in, and then pop the back lining in very last.

I learned most of this information from the book Costume Close Up, which I very strongly recommend to anyone who wants to learn about 18th century sewing techniques. It’s packed full of useful information! (Though the shirt chapter is missing some very important things.) It’s also considerably less expensive than many other reference books, which is nice.

I’ll also leave a link here to the waistcoats tag on my sewing blog, where I post more pictures and construction stuff.

I hope this was helpful!

Oh, and if you don’t already, use a thimble when hand sewing! I did not use a thimble for many years and I was a fool not to. Thimbles make it SO much better and faster. Here’s a video on how to do it:

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It’s also good to wax your thread. (All except the thread for the buttonholes)

[aerisleis-fics]

Fic Writer Questions

Tagged by @jadekitty777

How many works do you have on AO3?

62 at this time!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

454642

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh, well. 11, technically. There are more in the list but they're subsets of the same fandoms. The most common are Final fantasy XV, RWBY, and BNHA.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Burden to Bear

2. Wingbeat of a Butterfly

3. Sins of the Father

4. Pain Shared is Pain Halved

5. Emerald Sunlight.

I'm actually sad that they are ALL BNHA pieces tbh. But it's a BIG fandom and two of those are the longest works I have posted... so... okay. Uhh... 3 tododeku pieces, one Dad for One, and one Toshinko.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I usually do! I like to at least thank people for reading and taking the time to comment, if nothing else.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Uhhh. Probably... probably Alone Inside which was a Beyblade fic that I wrote when I was Young and thought I was Edgy. There's absolutely 0 redeeming qualities in that fic. It's a pure angst fest. I don't recommend going to look at it. I've considered orphaning it but so far... nah. I mean. I wrote it. I did that, disaster tho it may be.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Not really! I do kind of have one or two mentally in the works but I don't do a Lot of crossovers and if I *do* they tend to fit together pretty snugly. I uh. Also don't rly read crossovers so there's that.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Some yes! I don't want to talk about what fics in detail... But, I've gotten hate for using the wrong general terms to refer to people and also for... *checks notes* following my plan for a story that a reader decided was "too much'. That fic remains the one fic I have ever deleted.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Not often! Usually very vanilla if I do write it. I'm very ace and not very confident in my smut, tbh. I do like to get into the intimate before and maybe after where the feelings can be examined sometimes tho so maybe I'll do more of that Eventually.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge here, either!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nothing published. My spouse and I have started to work on and discuss a few together but -splays fingers- we'll see!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Uhhh. O...one? You want me to pick one? I can barely pick one in any specific fandom lmao. Bc like, for ATLA it's Zutara (tho I do also like Toko, bc my partner loves toko and it's fun to write w/ faer). For BNHA its Tododeku (but I also love toshinko). For Yuri on Ice its absolutely Victuuri. But for Beyblade it's Kai/Rei. And for RWBY... ah... RWBY... Probably Hummingbird (but I could write a List of Rwby ships I like and why that's... very long).

So! Like, there's a lot of dynamics and I can't say there's One I like more than anything though like Sunshine child plus Stubborn/Cold/Stunted does seem to... show up a bit.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Uhhhh. If I'm being honest, Probably Razor Thin Line which was Supposed to be an examination of the thin line between heroes and villains in the BNHA verse, but I have... many... BNHA wips and a Lot Less interest in writing for BNHA than I once had, for many reasons. I really wanted to finish it, bc the idea still rly intrigues me, but at this point I'll be happy if I finish... Wingbeat of a Butterfly and the rest of what I want to do for the Burden to Bear verse.

What are your writing strengths?

Um.... hm. See... bc I have such... a love/hate relationship with my works this is hard. But, I've been told that I have generally strong characterization. I also .. usually... like the way I handle descriptions and most dialog. I also like the way I can adjust things and then start to see how the world unfolds around them - but I don't know if I'd call that a strength so much as a writer-default?

What are your writing weaknesses?

It's hard for me to write off of a prompt! I'm slowly getting better at it. Also most of my ideas tend to come in epic length and require... trimming... for short fics or warm ups and drabble-types. I have to try much harder to write shorter types of works and that's something I've been working hard on.

Also just. Fighting scenes. They are the bane of my existence (now laugh bc I write in the fandoms I do. Go ahead. You can laugh. What genius picks up Shonen anime and final fantasy when they struggle with fight scenes)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I mean. It's definitely a thing? I guess I'm not sure what we mean here. Like yes, other characters use other languages sometimes. mentioning that in narration is important? I'm not big on peppering with foreign language words Unless it's deliberately done to kind of point out that the listener doesn't know what was said, either.

As a working example off the top of my head, Viktor from Yuri on Ice dropping a nickname or complement in Russian and Yuuri, not speaking russian, not understanding that particular word said but understanding everything else bc the rest of the statement was literally in english.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

It was either ATLA or Beyblade. Imports from FFN seem to think ATLA. It was a poetry set. Which is funny bc I don't write poems normally.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

This is like asking me to Choose a Favorite Child. And it's very difficult. I have a Real love/hate relationship with most of my works. I'm... going to tentatively say Keep the Home Fires Burning, which is a PolySTQ piece I wrote for the Qrowbang. I love the way this piece came together and I was very proud of how even though it Could have exploded to epic proportions I still got it done within the expected frame. It could have been longer, or deeper, it could have covered more. But I was happy with it, and while those things are all true... I don't think I'd change anything if I rewrote it under similar circumstances.

Tagging: If you see this and want to do it, go for it!

[sinceileftyoublog]

Bell Witch Interview: New Voices

BY JORDAN MAINZER

One of our favorite albums of the year was Seattle metal band Bell Witch’s Mirror Reaper, a moving, 80-minute, one-track metal opus centered around death. The album features two distinct halves called “As Above” and “So Below”, the first featuring previously recorded vocal takes from late founding member Adrian Guerra, who after separating from the band two years ago died of a heart attack last year. The other founding member, bassist Dylan Desmond, recruited Jesse Shriebman to replace the drums of Guerra; as before, they both sing, as does guest Erik Moggridge on the second half of the album. Bell Witch also introduced organs to their arsenal. “How do we create this new voice in what has been a bass and drum band?” Desmond hypothetically asked over the phone last month in reference to one of the many dilemmas the band faced during the recording of Mirror Reaper.

In general, for Bell Witch, the fluidity of voices is a major theme. The band was in the middle of a tour during our conversation, one in which they had been playing the first 48 minutes of Mirror Reaper up until the point the song flips, right where Guerra’s vocals stop and it becomes ambient before Moggridge enters. If they were to play the second half live sans Moggridge--alive and well and making music as Aerial Ruin--it would feel kind of empty and wrong. Playing the first half without Guerra--they have no choice--rightfully makes his absence loom as large as it has since he died.

The band does have plans to play all of Mirror Reaper with Moggridge at Roadburn 2018, and they’re planning a European tour from March to May around their festival appearance. Having just finished a West Coast tour, as you read this, they’re likely already thinking about their next record. For now, check out my interview with Desmond below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Did you decide during the recording of Mirror Reaper that having the album be one track was necessary?

Dylan Desmond: Yes and no. The song kept coming together, and the structure started to get finalized. I suppose it became a little more obvious that “maybe this isn’t something we need to be breaking up.” This is one song built off of one simple riff and variations. As it became apparent to us, we thought, “Well, one long song is going to be kind of annoying to listen to in one regard, but in another regard, maybe it’s fitting to what the song is and what we’re going for.” We started leaning more towards that. You kind of listen with different ears at that point. Eventually, we thought, “We can’t break this up into tracks.”

I feel that even more so playing it every night. When we finish playing--we just play the first half of the song--I think, “I’m so glad we didn’t break this into tracks.” It would have been doing a huge disservice to it.

SILY: How was the album recorded?

DD: Basically, we went through it once with the hopes of putting the drum tracks down, and a usable bass. Then we went through and did the organ and vocals after that. The main goal was to get the drums solid and keep adding layers. I think that makes it kind of hard. Some bands go in and do all the tracks at once. It’s tough for us because while it works live, recording it, tapping on the bass doesn’t properly communicate to the microphone the highs and lows at the same time. I’ll go through and do the lows and the highs separately. It ends up being 30-40 bass tracks per song. 

Mixing took forever because it was such a large track. We were exceeding the bounds of Pro Tools as designed for one track. We had to keep stopping it. It kept overloading the computer. It was kind of annoying but kind of exciting. There were these error messages that Pro Tools kept shooting up. The engineer, Billy Anderson, would go, “I don’t know what this means.” So he would ask in a forum, and someone from Pro Tools chimed in and said, “That error message should never ever happen. It’s pushing past what Pro Tools is designed to handle.” [We were like] “Yes, that’s cool!”

SILY: What is it like working with Billy?

DD: He records really creatively. It’s almost like having another member of the band there. He never puts input into the playing style. But during the mixing process, he’s brilliant. He’s got the best set of ears I’ve ever seen in a person. He brings things out I don’t even notice. He can hear so many tracks simultaneously. I remember, I stayed at his house one time. He has a display of the records he’s done. There was a 7-inch from an old Seattle band, and [it was signed,] “Billy, You are alchemy.” That’s a good summation.

SILY: How did you balance your and Jesse’s different vocal styles?

DD: I guess the way that all came about was when Jesse started, it was after Adrian had left. He was playing and learning the vocal lines from the older songs. So he was trying to emulate and was on board with the style the band was doing already. That’s always been the case, where I’ll do the screams and he’ll do the growls.

SILY: To what extent in the back of your mind were you thinking about past notable one-track albums?

DD: We definitely discussed that. Dopesmoker gets the most attention. But I don’t think we were creatively referencing it. If anything, El mundo frio by Corrupted is what we’re more in line with stylistically, especially with the long passage in the middle that’s more of an ambient thing. I wouldn’t say we were trying to recreate anything in that regard. Our approach was more just to write a song as a Bell Witch song would be. The original approach was to write one song with several movements. As the movements whittled away, we were left with one big song. I don’t think we were trying to recreate or create something that hasn’t been done.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album art?

DD: We were searching for artists and had a couple in mind, but we were kind of just creatively shopping around, looking for who out there was doing really cool stuff. We came across [Mariusz Lewandowski] and thought, “This guy’s incredible. If he’s available and willing, we should do it.” We wrote him an email, and he wrote back that he had always wanted to do a record and had never done it before. He even listened to [previous record] Four Phantoms and said he was really into that. We kind of described what we were thinking based off of his style and the themes of the record, the “as above, so below” aspect. He came back with [the cover], and we were both floored.

SILY: Had you decided on the title at that point?

DD: No, at that point we were sticking to the “as above, so below” idea. I think the artwork was even a point of us thinking “as above, so below” is over-said and overused. One of the Erik Moggridge lyrics--“Mirror reaper / arrow of my eye”--was related to “as above, so below,” so we thought we would use that, and it fit with the cover.

SILY: What about the feature-length video Taylor [Bednarz] is doing? Is that set to the entire piece?

DD: Yeah, he’s still working on it. He’s past the half-way point. He’s working on archived footage from the 50′s and 60′s. It’s really cool. He’s trying to piece together stories to make a bigger one. We saw the videos he’s done. He has a really cool approach to things.

SILY: Adrian’s vocals on the album were from unused vocal takes from Four Phantoms. Were there any unused takes that didn’t make it onto Mirror Reaper?

DD: Nothing from Adrian. He had already died when we were doing that. We just dug back and were like, “Here are some takes that didn’t make the final recording.” We found some that could be lined up and fit. Having Billy Anderson be the guy who can do that was great. I think there are leftover vocal tracks from Mirror Reaper from Jesse and I’s recording. Maybe if I die, he can use that [laughs]. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.

SILY: Even before Adrian passed away and after he left the band, do you feel the fan base embraced Jesse as part of the band?

DD: Yeah, I think so. Jesse’s a pretty cool guy. He’s a lot of fun. Maybe a few friends might have been on the fence because they were personally close with Adrian. But it was a good fit, because Jesse and Adrian were friends as well. It wasn’t an outsourcing scenario. He was already in the family.

SILY: How do you guys feel about people constantly labeling you “funeral doom?”

DD: It doesn’t really come up in conversation. When Adrian and I were starting the band and sort of toying with the direction we would take, we would talk about bands we liked, and what aspects we liked, and what made those bands so special. Those conversations were centered around funeral doom and death metal, more or less. I think that Bell Witch’s style is set at this point. That’s not really a conversation that happens as much.

SILY: Is there anything cool you guys have been listening to in the tour van or on your own?

DD: We’ve been listening to a lot of Waylon Jennings. I’ve been listening to the new Ruins of Beverast album. We’ve been listening to a lot of Blut Aus Nord. A Scottish band called FVERNALS--they’re great. Those have been the things on heavy rotation the past few days.

[graceivers]

Review #41 - Egomaniac

Egomaniac Author: Vi Keeland Genre: Contemporary Romance, Lawyers, Single Parent, Workplace Romance Rating: ★★★★½ Recommendation: worth reading; might read again Summary: Emerie Rose unceremoniously meets Drew Jagger when she mistakenly thinks he’s breaking and entering into her office when in fact he is the owner of the place that she’s been scammed into renting. Despite their vastly different jobs, their constant banter and mutual attraction leads them both down a road together neither of them foresaw.

Female Lead: Emerie is a solid female lead. She’s patient and understanding, which is key to her character considering she’s a marriage counselor. She’s not stereotypically overly idealistic and optimistic given her career choice but in fact very realistic. And we see this through her sessions with her various clients. What more, you can practically feel how invested and passionate she is about her job—how she genuinely likes helping people where she can, how she loves seeing progress and success come from her work, how excited and happy she is at the opportunity to both teach and counsel. I mean, if we all could have enthusiasm for our jobs like she does, that would be amazing.

But not only that, Emerie also shows a good amount of independence and spunk. Keeland does a good job of showing off Emerie’s personality through things like her limited Krav Maga skills, her love for burgers, her movie themed dinners, and even going toe-to-toe with Drew when they’re bantering/arguing/flirting. She doesn’t shy away from him but rather is brave and confident enough to call him out and give it back just as good. I think Emerie is a very well-balanced and three-dimensional character, which is why I really liked her. Male Lead: Drew Jagger! Okay, so the first half of the book or so, Keeland wrote Drew kind of a stereotypical and obviously egotistical dudebro/player kind of guy. To be honest, that kind of guy as a male lead is not my favorite, but I could tolerate it and normally get through a book without any further incident or damage. Again, the first half of the book, Drew fits the bill for this image: a guy that enjoys the company of ladies for sex only, wealthy and attractive and egotistical, speaks whatever is on his mind without thinking about it beforehand because he doesn’t care and has no filter, etc. If that had carried on for the entire book, Drew wouldn’t have been my favorite dude, but again, I would’ve still gotten through it all the same.

But then we got mature, responsible, adult, father Drew Jagger! AND THIS MAN. This man was the guy we deserved. This was the guy I fell in love with and cared about. This man was the best and suddenly skyrocketed to one of my favorite male leads ever. You could tell how much Drew loved his son, Beck, given what he had to deal with, what he sacrificed, and how he still acted no matter what. And then when Keeland inserted that mature, responsible, adult Drew into his relationship with Emerie? God, that was everything. Seriously, nothing’s sexier than a true man—an adult who has his life and priorities together even when obstacles are thrown at him. Yes, even in the latter half, Drew still has dirty and unfiltered mouth, but it was dampened in favor of MATURE, RESPONSIBLE, ADULT DREW, and the appearance and permanence of the latter was a significant reason why I enjoyed this book so much. Plot & Writing: Egomaniac is one of those books where the summary doesn’t give you much or is slightly misleading in that it only tells you just the beginning and leaves the rest basically a surprise. Those books don’t always work out so well for me, but in this instance, I was super happy with the way everything turned out.

Though there was no literal separation, I thought the book really had two defining halves. The first half was all about the witty banter and budding attraction between Drew and Emerie. This section almost bordered on romantic comedy for me. It was pleasant and fun for the most part, but I wondered where Keeland was going to go with it and if and how the author would keep up that kind of tone. Drew and Emerie definitely had their meet-cute moment, and again, Drew acted like the wealthy, attractive, egomaniac by checking out Emerie and riling her up all the time. This first half did adequately set up a solid relationship between Drew and Emerie in regards to their work relationship (which I will get to later), a general friendship, and of course the sexual tension between them two. I liked this first half, but I loved the second half.

Like I mentioned before, the second half is basically all about adult Drew. He’s a single parent and fighting to keep shared custody, and I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but this is the Drew that sold the entire book for me. Once we establish a relationship between Drew and Emerie, the book becomes far less about the witty banter and whatever unfiltered thing that comes out of Drew’s mouth and instead it becomes about two adults trying to make a relationship work given their respective problems. Drew has to battle his trust issues and fight to keep seeing his son. Emerie has to figure out where she stands with Drew when she’s been hung up on some other guy for years. THEY ACT LIKE ADULTS. I can’t stress enough how much I loved that. Despite the fact that the tone of the latter half was slightly more serious than the beginning half, I applaud Keeland for moving the book in the direction that she led it. She could’ve stuck with the cutesy and ‘egomaniac’ thing, but she didn’t, and that was probably the best decision she made when writing this whole thing.

One thing, there was a minor loose end that kind of irked me. When Drew said he was moving to Atlanta because that was where his son was, Roman, his best friend, said to give him a little time because he was onto something. Roman repeated that when he visited Emerie. What was that something? It was never expanded upon, just dropped and ignored. Am I supposed to just take it as whatever Roman had planned didn’t pan out? Sure, maybe, fine. But then why wasn’t it explained or mentioned again? I know it sounds so insignificant, but I personally thought that was left unattended. I mean, I loved the way the book ended regardless, but still. What was the point of that if Keeland added it in? Why didn’t it have any resolution, even if it was a minor ‘nevermind, it didn’t pan out’ kind of deal?

Also, another minor note. I categorized this as a workplace romance. The line there is slightly blurry. Is Emerie an outright employee working under Drew? No, not exactly. They share office space, yes. While Drew’s real assistant is out, Emerie does some secretarial work for him kind of in exchange for that temporary office space. Does she get paid for that work like a real employee? No. But there was still somewhat of a work relationship between them two, even if it was significantly downplayed, and it was enough for me to subsequently categorize this as a workplace romance (of sorts). Secondary Characters & Plots: Roman was great. I thought he played a nice role as Drew’s best friend and eventually became rather close with Emerie too, even if only towards the end. Of course, Beck was such an adorable kiddo. And yeah, like it was touched upon in the book, no biology was necessary to know that Beck was Drew’s kid in every way that mattered.

Alexa was a piece of work. Seriously. Keeland was very clever in what we saw of her in that all her scenes were interactions with Drew except for that one time she met Emerie face to face. And by that time, I was already sold on Team Emerie, so Alexa’s presence and attitude there and then only further cemented how much I disliked her. We never did see any interaction between Alexa and Beck, which again, I found super interesting and smart because we couldn’t exactly judge if Alexa was a good or bad parent (though we were inclined to believe bad given that she tried to take Beck away from Drew) and we didn’t get to know anyone’s stance on her parenting skills, Beck included.

I would have liked more friends for Emerie. All she really had on her side was Baldwin. To be honest, his character was a little confusing and yet predictable at the same time. I agreed with Drew; Baldwin kind of stringed Emerie along, so much that she moved to New York and lived next door to him only for him to parade around women in front of her! I got the feeling that Baldwin always considered Emerie as his fallback, his second and backup choice, and Emerie did not deserve that even if she never fully expressed her feelings for him. I actually would’ve liked if they stayed friends, but I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen… Favorite Part(s): MATURE, ADULT, FATHER DREW. Or really, just Drew being a dad to Beck. From giving Beck his kidney, always being there for his visitation times, to making sure Beck had a stable life, it was all amazing. The scene where Drew told Beck that he was his stepdad and he might be seeing more of his biological father? There was a need for delicacy and patience and love in that situation, and I loved the way Drew handled it as best he could by giving Beck the facts and yet asserting that he would always be Beck’s dad and he would always love him and be there for him. I seriously can’t get over that Drew; that’s a guy you want and keep. Final Thoughts: Egomaniac was a very pleasant surprise. Again, the summary doesn’t give you much about where Keeland takes the story. I was so surprised and happy with where the plot went and what I read. It had solid characters, a shifting but good story, and still enough spark and passion between the two leads for a good romance. I would definitely recommend Egomaniac as a worthwhile read.

[your-iron-lung]

Mixed Up 10 | The Pirate Song |

Chapter Word Count: 2208

Pairings: Zoro/Sanji

Genre: Comedy, Drama, Romance

Chapter Warning: Strong Language

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,

Next Chapter: 11

The tension that surrounded the front-desk was so palpable that it was keeping customers from entering or leaving the store. A few had tried to overcome their uneasiness by attempting to walk past the duo under Zoro's soul-chilling glare, but were so perturbed and consumed by dread that they gave up and continued to circle dumbly around the store until they felt it was safe enough to pass. Nami and Sanji were oblivious to the anxiety as they stood leaning over the counter, watching Zoro gleefully as he mutely munched away at the sandwich Sanji had brought him for lunch.

The two of them looked absolutely delighted as they conspiratorially leaned together, already at ease with one another despite only having met once before. Knowing that they were waiting for him to make the first move, Zoro took his time eating, slowly consuming his food with all the lackluster of a grazing farm animal. None of them mentioned or even seemed to notice the apprehensive customers that had a formed a line outside the door, waiting to come inside.

Swallowing down the last bite of his sandwich, Zoro finally spoke.

"Well, I'm glad you two are fucking happy about this."

In an instant the thick, atmospheric cloud of tension snapped and dissipated as a collective sigh of relief arose from the customers who felt they were now free to leave and enter.

Zoro slouched back in Nami's rolling chair, swiveling around discontentedly in his seat to cast his seething glare between the two of them, ignoring the sudden influx of people that circulated past them. Nami laughed a bright, jubilant laugh that Sanji took to liking immediately. He then felt compelled to laugh along with her as he leaned across the counter to level Zoro's glare with a mirthful look of his own.

"I bring you food and business, and this is what I get in return? Death threats and empty promises? I expected better from a, uh, hang on-" Sanji paused in his tirade to grab and begin flipping through the Super-Star! Guitar's instructor profile booklet the front-desk counter offered its guests. He found Zoro's page at the back quickly, snickered at the unflattering photograph of him, and read aloud from the quick biography and pretended not to be impressed with what he read. "-From a '3 time Bass Guitar Monthly cover story performer, who's use of the 3-necked bass 'Santoryu' has made favourable impressions across the country.' See here, I thought you were supposed to be a professional."

"I am," Zoro snarled, sitting up to snatch the booklet away before Sanji could read anything more about him. "And my threats are anything but empty."

Rolling his eyes and snatching the booklet back, Sanji said, "I'm sure you're all bark and no bite, but I wasn't talking about your lame death threats, idiot."

"Then-"

"The art show," Sanji replied flippantly, scouring through the booklet to inspect the other instructors and paused over Brook's page. "Usopp's art show is tomorrow; you haven't even tried to make an effort to get me any more involved in that."

"Wow, really?" Nami said in a tone that was so disapproving, several patrons were stricken with a severe sense of inadequacy that would haunt them for the rest of their day. She hopped and twisted onto the countertop so that her legs were dangling on Zoro's side and kicked out at her associate, who easily rolled out of reach in her chair. "I told you to take him!"

"I was!" Zoro said angrily, scooting around in the wheeled chair as Nami continued with her attempts at harassing him. "I still am! The damn thing hasn't happened yet, so get off my ass about it."

"That may be, but I still don't know where the hell it is, or what time it starts, or what the fuck being a fake bodyguard even entails," Sanji said flatly, closing the booklet and setting it aside before it could offer him further distraction.

Rolled all the way against the far wall, Zoro planted his feet firmly on the ground and crossed his arms, frowning harshly at the both of them.

"It starts at 7," he began, narrowing his eyes at Nami when she stuck her tongue out at him. "We have to get there early, though, so we can help set up, so I'll come by at 4."

"That's really fucking early, are you that incompetent with directions?"

"Fuck you," Zoro bit out. "He wants me to pick up some prints at his place beforehand so we have to leave early enough to get that shit done, asshole. Does that cover it?"

"No," Sanji said, amused with how easy it was to irritate him. "Where is it, what do I have to do, etcetera?"

"Hey, Zoro!"

Behind Sanji, a young teenaged girl waved enthusiastically at the grumpy looking punk, prompting Zoro to stand up and ignore Sanji outright as he went to great his next lesson.

"Been practicing?" Zoro questioned as he lead her away, looking back over his shoulder to sneer nastily at both Nami and Sanji.

'Rude fucker,' Sanji mouthed after him as he left, earning a hasty and discreet middle finger in response that made him snicker.

"Don't worry about the details too much," Nami said as she slid off her perch to retake her seat behind the counter. Sanji turned back towards her as she began to organize her desk. "All you really have to do is dress formal and look imposing to keep Usopp from shitting himself."

"Easy," Sanji said, striking what he hoped was a dashing, yet imposing form.

"Sure." Nami smiled. "The hard part for you is going to be getting along with Zoro the whole night."

"Bastard," he said, slumping.

Giggling, Nami reached across to where the printer was situated on her left and grabbed a piece of paper from its tray.

"Anyway," she said as she began to write on it. "I'm going to go ahead and give you the directions to the place since Zoro's probably going to make you drive."

"Asshole," Sanji commented lazily, leaning over the counter to watch as she wrote. "What's 'OperationUtopia'?"

"It's the venue the show gets held at," she replied, handing the piece of paper over to him once she finished detailing the instructions. "It's really hard to find because it's so underground, but Zoro's been there before often enough that if you can at least get him in the general area he should be able to recognize it. But that might be giving him too much credit."

"I'll be sure to jog his memory if he needs a reminder."

He gazed over her neat handwriting before folding the piece of paper until it was small enough to fit in his pocket. He looked back to Nami, who sat twisting in her seat with the sweetest smile he had ever seen gracing her gorgeous face and thought momentarily about asking her out on a dinner date.

Instead, he returned her smile with a charming one of his own and asked for her number.

"You think you're real smooth, huh?" she teased as she pulled out another piece of paper from the printer and tore it in half, writing her number down on one of the halves and handing it over to him. "That's just in case Zoro gets you guys really and truly lost."

"Of course, mon Cherie," Sanji cooed, happily noticing that she had adorned the little scrap piece of paper with hearts. "And now I must sadly take my leave of you, but you can expect many a call or text from me later!"

"Uh-huh, buh-bye now Sanji."

Nami winked at him as he gathered together the containers he'd brought their food in and turned to leave. Sanji's heart fluttered as he bowed before her and then left through the door, ignoring how many people were struggling to get in and out.

As he strode down the sidewalk back towards his car, and even through the rest of his day, Sanji felt wonderfully happy. With the weight of not knowing where to be and what to do the next day lifted from him, he proceeded to get the curtain rods he'd been denied the night before and spent the rest of the day texting Nami off and on, learning various things about both her and Zoro in the process.

He was surprised, though not very, to learn that they had been in a band together a few years ago, though they had since been put on an indefinite hiatus. She wouldn't tell him why, but suggested he check out their music and had given him the name of their band and a link to their old soundcloud.

When he got home and fixed the rods above the windows in his bedroom, he pulled out his laptop and set it up in the kitchen so he could listen to their music while he prepared dinner. Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he entered in the link Nami had sent him via phone, and pulled up the Mugiwara Menace's soundcloud profile.

Glancing through their track listings, Sanji found himself unsure of where to start, and wondered if he should ask Nami what her opinion on where to start was- decided he didn't want to bother her with his indecisiveness- and eventually settled for listening through their discography in the order the songs had been uploaded. With his laptop placed off to the side on the counter, he hit play on the first track and then began to work through his dinner routine.

As the song started to play, he paused and glanced back to his laptop screen, scrutinizing the band's profile picture when the sounds he thought they'd be playing didn't exactly line up with what he thought their punk band would be like.

Along with Zoro (who looked like a younger, dorkier version of himself), and Nami (who was as cute and beautiful as she was now), a third man stood between them that Sanji didn't recognize. Wondering if this was just someone Sanji hadn't met yet, he was startled to see that the band had just over 5,000 followers. For a band of only 3 people to exist within a genre that was as atypical as punk was- to have that many fans was impressive.

Below the picture, a caption read that they were the pioneers of a new punk genre they'd proudly labeled 'Parrot-Punk', which was what was apparently being played for him now.

Snorting at the idiocy of the genre they'd given himself, he wondered what the hell he was getting into when the song he'd selected got over its calm intro. It started out quietly but soon crescendoed into a loud, punkish roar that filled and consumed his apartment with a catastrophic beat that still managed to follow an organized rhythmic pattern. He quickly turned the volume down to something that wouldn't blow his ears out and then tried to resume cooking.

For the most part, it sounded like the same generic punk sounds he'd heard before, but with an odd mixture of instruments he wouldn't have expected a punk band to make use of- and then the vocalist began to sing.

He wasn't sure why, but he'd assumed that Nami's voice was the one he was going to hear shouting out the lyrics, and was taken by complete and total surprise when he realized that the singer was Zoro.

Sanji's first instinct was to laugh.

Zoro's voice was low, rough, raw, and clearly not intended to sing with, but it didn't stop him from bellowing out the words to the song in a manner that was so impactful it made Sanji slowly stop what he was doing entirely.

The song was jaunty and sounded like a rowdy sea-shanty reinvented into an angry anthem of anti-establishment. The overall tune of it sounded happy and carefree, but when he listened to the lyrics he understood just how misleading the tune really was.

There were so many individual components to the song that Sanji initially wasn't sure what he was meant to focus on first. He tried to listen to the song as a whole, and found himself overwhelmed with all the different aspects the song had going for it. The guitar was accompanied with a violin that jilted around the thick, heavy, resounding bass line that thudded in time with the sharp percussion, leading Sanji on as the track progressed towards its end.

It was, he had to admit, very well composed and put together; it went well beyond what he thought Zoro's song-writing capabilities could be, and wondered which one among them was the one who'd actually written it. He stared down at the forgotten ingredients he had splayed before him and doubted his initial ability to be able to make fun of Zoro's singing.

He let the song finish and stood in momentary awe before he decided that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on cooking and listening to the music at the same time. He bookmarked the band's soundcloud and then shut his laptop before finishing his dinner, wondering how his tomorrow would play out and what impact getting into their music would be.

[laurasfox-originals]

The Big Match (FSALA Bonus Story, Patreon Exclusive) - excerpt

This is a bonus story I wrote for my patrons on Friends, Sexcapades, And Love Affairs. Adrian, Jared, and Mike now live happily with their husbands and children in the suburbs. Everything is fine and dandy until a challenge appears. They must play soccer against another team of dads, just like their boys. This is the story of how they respond to that challenge!

The Big Match - excerpt

Adrian sauntered toward Mike and Jared who were standing at a fair distance from the soccer field. “So, none of your rascals came home, either?” he asked.

Jared grunted and pushed his hands into his jacket. He sported a much shorter hairstyle now, but it looked good on him. “Auggie is bent on trying my patience today.”

Adrian grinned. “At least, we get to share the pain.”

Their firstborns were the same age since they had wanted to have them the same year, and it had made them all happy when their kids became close friends even without their parents’ encouragements. Mike had been blessed with twins, Patrick and Liam, and by the shouts on the soccer field, they were at the heart of all the ruckus.

“Armstrong!” The coach blew his whistle. “Not you, the other Armstrong!”

Mike puffed his cheeks and exhaled. “I really wonder if Coach Patterson knows who’s who.”

“Do you know?” Adrian punched his friend’s shoulder playfully.

They followed with their eyes the two redheads running toward the coach. If Coach Patterson hoped he could yell at only one of them, he had to think again. Pat and Lee, as they went by, were like peas in a pod and never one without the other.

“Do I have to explain to you what a foul is, again?” The coach continued to yell at the two miscreants.

“Do you know what a foul is, Mike?” Adrian asked.

They all snickered.

“I have a feeling Lee is going to explain it to me in detail,” Mike said, feigning resignation.

“Does that mean that he will kick you in the shin again?”

“Could be,” Mike said with a philosophical shrug. “Seeing how Ryan is keeping them in line all the time, they take it out on me. All their energy, I mean.”

“Then I should be happy Auggie is just a goalie,” Jared said.

“Just a goalie?” Mike asked and wiggled his eyebrows.

Jared’s face fell. “Don’t let him know I said that. I mean it.”

Auggie was the quietest of the group, and he had a way of doing things in a measured manner that surprised all the grownups. Shane often took him to his folks’ ranch to teach him how to ride a horse, and he had taken to it like a natural. Jared was very proud of his son, but he tried not to boast too much.

After all those years, Jared still cared about everyone’s feelings just the same. But he was entitled to be proud of his son.

“The coach should know to let them go home by now,” Jared said. “I wonder why they’re still training.”

As if the man had heard them, he turned his head and waved. Then he dismissed Pat and Lee who returned to the field looking no more chastised than before, and approached the fence.

“Gentlemen,” he said.

“Coach.” Adrian nodded. “What’s with the long hours?”

Mr. Patterson wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Didn’t your kids tell you? We have a big match coming up. The boys from Barring Grove have a bone to pick with us.”

Adrian quirked an eyebrow. Mikey had somehow forgotten to mention it. “So, it’s like the battle of the suburbs or something?”

The coach didn’t seem to get the joke. “Dads will be on it, too,” he said and pointed a finger at them. “You’ll go against Barring Grove.”

“What?” Jared intervened. “Why?”

Mr. Patterson was a man with a heart of gold but a short fuse. He was getting red in the face, and Adrian wondered if his heart was capable of taking it for long. “It’s kids versus kids, and dads versus dads. South Crest versus Barring Grove. Is this the first time you hear about it? Someone should have told you.”

Adrian had an idea now who that someone was supposed to be, and there was a possibility that the coach had relegated that information to the wrong messengers. “Are we supposed to play soccer?” He checked with his friends for confirmation of how ludicrous the idea sounded.

“We only know about it from what kids tells us and a bit from TV,” Jared added. “I mean, Auggie talks about it all the time, but it’s not like I have any idea about being there, on the field.”

The coach bounced on the back of his heels and threw them a cursory look. “You’ll learn,” he said matter-of-factly. “And we’re lucky that we have so many dads in good shape.”

He turned to yell at the kids again, and finally, the group gathered around him. “Why didn’t you tell your parents about the match?”

The group shifted and looked down.

“Caleb doesn’t have a dad,” Mikey blurted out. “And his mom is disabled.”

“Michael!” Adrian said sternly. “That’s not nice.”

Caleb, a scrawny boy with a lisp, intervened. “She is,” he confirmed while wiping his nose with his forearm. “She cannot play soccer with one leg.”

Jared ran one hand over his eyes, and Mike let out a sigh.

“And Johnny’s dad is old,” Mikey added.

“That’s it. You stop talking right now, young man,” Adrian said. It was usually Edward’s role to be the stern one, but his son was just saying whatever crossed his mind without realizing that he could be hurting the other kids.

“Did you guys think that it wouldn’t be fair toward your mates to let us know about the match?” Jared asked.

Multiple pairs of eyes stared at them.

“Yes,” Auggie said. “It’s all of us, and all of our dads, or no one.”

“We could play,” Pat or Lee – Adrian was, after all, the one who couldn’t tell the twins apart – said while hooking one arm around his brother’s shoulders. “We’ll wreck Barring Grove. Just us.”

“You can’t. You need a goalie,” Auggie explained.

Adrian thought of Auggie as a mini-Shane, but a sterner one.

“Then you’ll come with us,” Pat or Lee said. “And we’ll wreck them.”

“Boys,” Mike intervened, “you’re not wrecking anyone.”

“Do we have to ask permission?” Pat or Lee cocked his head. “Can we wreck Barring Grove, dad, please?”

Adrian wasn’t entirely sure whether Mike’s twins were sly like foxes, or they just found it completely normal to address everything standing in their way head on.

“I basically just said ‘no’,” Mike said with a voice full of resignation.

“Do I have to explain what ‘fair play’ is, again?” Mr. Patterson asked the two troublemakers.

Pat or Lee puffed out his chest. “It would be more than fair. Three against eleven.”

“What is the problem, coach?” Adrian asked. “Kids, go play a little.”

The boys didn’t wait to be told twice and hurried back to the field.

“We might not have enough dads,” the coach admitted. “Your boy’s not wrong, Mr. Rossi.”

Although they had agreed to have their names turned to Rossi-Hastings on their IDs, to keep things simple, Adrian and Edward had agreed on using only Adrian’s last name in their day by day dealings. The same went for Mikey who liked having Rossi written on the back of his soccer t-shirt despite his legal name, but the Hastings had been adamant about Sophia. She was the one they showered mostly in gifts, anyway. Any effort to impress Mikey had proven fruitless. The boy loved his grandparents, but he found hanging out with them pretty boring.

“Some of them are not in that good shape or are too busy,” the coach continued. “And, of course, there’s the boy without a dad.”

“And a mom with only one leg,” Mike added.

“Mike, seriously,” Adrian said. “You too?”

“Sorry. These guys are rubbing on me,” Mike replied.

“Yeah,” the coach said. “Talk to your husbands. We need all men on deck for this.”

Jared let out a small weird sound. “Is it really that important?”

“It’s for charity,” Mr. Patterson explained. “All the tickets proceeds will go to funding a school for underprivileged kids.”

“Oh,” Jared replied. “But who’s going to come see a soccer match between two suburbs? We’re eons away from pros. I mean, we’ll all come to watch our children, but --”

“Barring Grove made soccer into a religion down there.” The coach nodded vaguely, and they all looked in that direction only to reconsider one second later. “So far, they’ve beaten everyone.”

Mike grimaced. “Ugh, is it wise of us to go against them, then? If they’re that good? We could just forfeit.”

“That won’t sell tickets,” Mr. Patterson said matter-of-factly.

Adrian frowned for a second. A bit of a competitive ambition began to rise inside him. “I think we could play. As long as you talk us through.”

“Adrian, are you sure?” Jared asked.

“Hey, it’s a sport. How hard can it be? And we already know the general rules since our boys cared to explain them.”

“Yeah, my shins remember,” Mike said with a sigh.

“You’ll have to go through a medical,” the coach continued, now invigorated with the prospect of having to train a grownups’ team.

“When is this match scheduled?” Jared asked.

“In a month’s time,” the coach replied.

“Is that enough to turn us into soccer players?” Mike expressed his doubts.

The coach gave them a cursory look. “You look like fit lads to me.”

Mike threw Jared a silent plea. The only answer back was a shrug.

“All right. So together with our better halves, we’ll be six. That means that there are five positions waiting to be filled, right?” Adrian asked.

“Not only. We should have some people on the bench. But, at this point, I’d be happy if you brought a couple of fit fellows like you. The dads in this town are pretty busy. I mean, those with kids on the team. Now, I’ll have to check on those boys and call it a day. I bet you want to take them home to dinner,” the coach hurried to say.

~~~

Read the entire thing on my Patreon.

[patternsintraffic]

Announcing Lights & Reflections: An Album in Two Parts

Hi there! I’ve been hard at work over the past months (years, really) on a new batch of songs that will form my second full-length album. I’ve decided to do something a little different with this album and release it in two halves. A couple of EPs, if you will, that will later be smashed together to form a single LP. I came to this conclusion for a few reasons:

-I wanted to release music a little more frequently. Direction has been out for two years already, and if I waited for this entire album to be done we would be looking at a very long wait for new PiT material. It also kept me motivated through this busy time in my life, since finishing half an album felt a lot more attainable than completing a whole one.

-It felt like there was a natural split between the two halves. They each have their own sounds and concepts and work on their own, but they can also come together to form a cohesive whole. I will expand on this immediately, because I’m going to talk a little bit more about the album right now.

I’ve had the title Lights & Reflections in my back pocket for years. At first it was just a title, but it evoked a feeling that excited me and seemed like it would inspire the kind of music that I strive to create. I thought it would be a great album title for some future album, if I ever made enough music to use it.

After finishing Direction I was still riding a wave of inspiration and wanted to keep recording and producing new songs. However, I was burned out on the writing aspect. I had pretty much built all of the tracks on Direction from the ground up, and I needed to let my tank refill for a bit before I started composing again. I decided to work on recording some songs from my past that I loved, but had never properly recorded. The first song I ever wrote, which my dad would never let me give up on. An acoustic track that I played with a short-lived band in college (we never made it out of the basement). A song I wrote for my then-girlfriend (now wife) for our first Christmas in our home together. Once I started thinking through this batch of songs, I realized that they perfectly fit the concept of reflections. These are songs from my past that I am bringing into the present. They are quiet, contemplative, organic, and primarily acoustic. They also have a wistful, reflective quality that ties them together.

During the process of recording these songs (it was a while; I don’t do anything particularly fast, especially recording) some new ideas started to percolate. They were louder, more electric, more energetic. Brighter. These new songs would form the other side of the coin; the lights to complete Lights & Reflections.

So, that is what I am working through now. Reflections, the softer, more acoustic half of the album full of songs from my past, is complete and releasing today! Lights, the louder, more electric half of the album full of brand new ideas, is in production. I’m not sure when it will arrive. Late 2020 is a very optimistic projection, but one that I will strive for. Early 2021 might be more realistic. Once the two halves are complete I will painstakingly resequence the two tracklists together (it won’t be just one half and then the other, I will be mixing it up for a fresh experience!) along with a couple of new songs to assemble the complete work, Lights & Reflections. Yes, there will be a couple of songs on the full album that are not on either of the previously-released halves (which I guess makes them not-quite-halves, but let’s not get pedantic). I was always kind of bummed when an artist would release a new album that was comprised entirely of previously-released material, so I don’t want to do that to my tens of listeners! I will add a couple of never-before-heard tracks to tie things together and give everyone a reason to check out the full LP besides a new track order. I will also have the full album professionally mastered (I am mastering the two halves myself, but even though I can fake it pretty well I am not a professional).

Anyway, for now, please enjoy Reflections. It is so exciting, as it always is, to release my own music and hope that it reaches a few people out there and gives them a few minutes of enjoyment, or catharsis, or whatever. I am really proud of these songs and how far they’ve come since their beginnings years ago. They don’t feel like a batch of old songs. They feel fresh, and current, and they deserve their time to shine.

Enjoy.

[bloggerblagger]

78) A lifetime’s secret revealed at last.

I have a confession to make. Something I have bottled up for 50 years and more. One of those dirty secrets that dare not speak its name.  Stand by to be shocked.

I. Like. Musicals.

There. I’ve said it. Phew..blimey….you just don’t know what a relief that is.

And now that I’ve finally got that much out, I’d better get it all off my chest.

When I was seventeen, the film of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, ‘The Sound of Music’ came out - to coin a phrase - and I went to see it about five times. At least.

I remember going on my own to the Regent Cinema  by the Clock Tower in Brighton to revel in my guilty pleasure. I had a crush on Charmian Carr, who played the eldest Von Trapp  daughter, Lisl - as in ‘I am sixteen, going on seventeen’.

It was the beginning of the end of the era of the musical and people of my generation were definitely not supposed to like them. They represented everything that the baby boomers were determined to reject.

It was 1965, and the Beatles and Stones and Dylan were all up and running - and I with them. In 1964, my last year at Brighton Grammar School,  I used to sit next to a chap called Phil Sutton for GCE history and most ‘lessons’ were spent arguing about whether the Stones or the Beatles were better. He was an early Stones fan, I was with the Beatles. At the time it seemed impossible, but I was living proof it was possible to like both  ‘she was just seventeen, well, you know what I mean’ AND ‘you are sixteen going on seventeen’.

Not that I would ever had admitted that to Phil.

The wilderness years.

At best, musicals  were thought us of camp and quaint. At worst, as silly and saccharine and hopelessly out of date, and, damned to hell by that most scathing of put-downs - uncool.

Although fast withering on the vinyl, it wasn’t quite the end of the musical. At least two of the very best came after -  ‘Oliver’, 1968, and ‘Cabaret’ 1972. And every so often, there was an exception  to the rule that musicals were cinematic history -  ‘Chicago’, ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’, ‘Sweeney Todd’, ‘Mama Mia’ come to mind. (Though ‘Mama Mia’, because it was a juke-box musical,  doesn’t really count for me.)

There were, too, Milos Forman’s version of  ‘Hair’, a film that seems to have been largely forgotten but which I remember as liking a lot; and ‘Fame’ and ‘Evita’ which had their moments; and ‘Grease’ which was a million times repeated joy for my daughter if not for me; and, more recently, ’Les Miserables’ which, with its silly operatic pretensions and monotonous dirgey music proved there is always an an exception to every rule - it was the one musical I really, really didn’t take to.

But when you consider the vast number of films pumped out in the nearly half a century since the sixties,  the musical as a Hollywood species, if not exactly endangered, was rarely spotted, and, during that long winter, those of us who secretly loved them have had to be very, very  careful not to be caught saying so for fear of being thought of as crazy or weird or worse, gay. (For a bloke, admitting to  liking musicals has been particularly difficult. They have been seen not just as unfashionable, but almost unmanly.)

Click here to drop jaw.

But adore them I secretly did. My absolute favourite piece of film ever is Donald O’Connor singing ‘Make ‘Em Laugh’ from ‘Singin’ In The Rain’. Pure untrammelled genius. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SND3v0i9uhE  I defy you to watch this and not be awestruck. I have counted only nine ‘cuts’ in this piece of film of well over four minutes of the most complicated, intricate dancing and slapstick comedy. I wonder what it must have been like to have been there on the set to witness, ‘live’, such astonishing virtuosity.

Watch too, the movement of the camera - panning along, tracking in and out,  jibbing up and over. Each movement must have involved several people working on camera equipment much cruder than we have today; everything and everyone as perfectly and painstakingly rehearsed as the performance they were shooting. And then these two halves - performers on one side of the camera and crew on the other - fitting together to make a seamless, stunning whole.

‘My Fair Lady’, ‘West Side Story, ‘Damned Yankees’, and all those Fred and Ginger musicals on telly, I lapped them all up. And  I always loved almost any Rodgers and Hammerstein musical - ‘Oklahoma’, ‘Carousel’, ‘South Pacific’. At the heart of any musical has to be the music and the music was magical. ‘Oh What a Beautiful Morning’, ‘June is Busting Out All Over’, ‘Surrey with the Fringe on Top’, ‘A Cockeyed Optimist’…To me, they are all gems, wonderful hummable tunes with with witty, tricky lyrics that fit that them so perfectly they feel as though there could never have been any alternative.

And every so often the songs in musicals are are more than just hummable and witty;  they can, occasionally, be truly profound. Not for the first time in BloggerBlagger I refer you to the scarily stirring and simultaneously horrifying ‘Tomorrow Belongs to Me’ from Cabaret. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29Mg6Gfh9Co

La La Land to the rescue.

Despite all this great stuff,  for all these years it simply   hasn’t been okay to admit to being a fan of the musical.

I remember going to the NFT not so long ago to see a screening of ‘Kiss Me Kate’, Cole Porter’s 1953 work of wonder. (If you think I am exaggerating check out ‘Brush up your Shakespeare’ - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPduoU826ew) Post modern irony was all the rage and I got really hacked off at a couple of smart-arses sitting behind me who were clearly of the mind that it was okay to laugh at the film but not with it. Twats, I thought, pathetic.

But the truth is I was no better than the rest. That I have framed this piece as a confession, albeit supposedly ironically,  is proof of that.

And, of course, what gives me permission to now confess is ‘La La Land’. Suddenly it seems post-modern irony is dead and in post-post-modernism it is okay to admit to liking a musical. The musical is, believe it or not, almost cool.

I say ‘almost’ because I think some of the supposed backlash to the critical enthusiasm for ‘La La Land’ has been the reaction of people who can’t quite get their heads around the idea that, after decades of being programmed to dismiss musicals as being embarrassingly passé,  they are now supposed to embrace them.

Not that I am without the odd nagging doubt myself. Although, broadly speaking,  I liked ‘La La Land’, and  grateful as I am for its crucial role in bringing the musical back into the zeitgeist, I do have some issues with it. The singing and dancing are manifestly not in the same league as in the good old days, and the music, though pretty enough, is unlikely to make into the great American songbook.

I have read that the  flaws in technique - Ryan Gosling is very obviously no Fred Astaire  - were deliberate, or, at least, that perfection was never the intention. In a sense, or so I believe the theory goes, the amateurishness is an essential part of  the updating of the form; that a Marni Nixon would never have been asked to redub  Emma Stone’s singing (à la Natalie Wood in West Side Story) because in 2017 the authenticity is what makes it work. I have to say  it is a theory that I don’t quite understand and that, personally, I would have preferred it if Ryan’s dancing had looked a little more fluid.  

However I refuse to  countenance any criticism of  Emma Stone, no matter how tremulous her voice. I fell for her completely and utterly.  

*Charmian Carr, move over.  

*(A possibly inappropriate expression since she died last year.)

POST SCRIPT 

Since I wrote this, a couple of readers (Dawn Culmer and Allan Gold)  have pointed out a couple of glaring omissions of mine from the pre-sixties period, ‘Guys and Dolls’ and ‘High Society’. Click here to see  what I missed,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6Umq4dK95c

And

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kq1JQUhwVQ

Footnote on the rest of the Oscars

In 2014, ’12 Years a Slave’, you will remember,  won the best picture Oscar. There was never any doubt that it would. It had built up a critical head of steam through the year, told a story - the horrendous capture and re-enslavement of a previously freed black man  - that was bound to engage the sympathy of any awards voter, and was directed not by some tainted-by-trade  ex-commercials director like J C Chandor but by Steve McQueen, not just a movie director but an actual bone fide artist who had won the Turner Prize. It ticked every box.

I saw it at the London Film Festival in late 2013 and privately had my doubts - very impressive in parts, but some wooden dialogue, an unconvincing cameo by producer Brad Pitt as the only good white guy in it, and an oddly sanitised version of New York in the early 19th century.  

Still  the  awards tide was running in its favour and it was never going to be denied. ‘All is Lost’ the brilliant and effectively word-free Robert Redford one- hander about a lone yachtsman in crisis, a truly original piece, which was written and directed by the aforementioned  JC Chandor in the same year, didn’t make it on to any Oscar awards shortlist at all except for 'sound editing'. Talk about being damned by faint praise.

The next year came Ava du Vernay’s ‘Selma’,  another film about black issues and for my money a far superior one. I hate it when audiences clap at the end of films - seems absurd when there’s no-one to take a bow - but when John Legend’s closing song ‘Glory’ played I was so moved I really wanted to applaud.  If you haven’t seen ‘Selma’ you should. David Oleweyo does a fantastic turn as Martin Luther King.  But it didn’t win and I never thought it would. Two ‘black ‘ films were never going to carry off the Oscar in successive years. (The chorus  of the song goes, ‘One day when the glory comes, it will be ours.’ Sadly not for Ava, not just a black director but a black woman director.)

Then last year came the furore over the 2015 Oscars being almost exclusively white. And this year, at least partly as a reaction to that, the pendulum predictably swung back the other way and  no few than four films  dealing with American racial issues were in the running in one category or another - ‘Moonlight’, ‘Loving’, ‘Hidden Figures’ and ‘Fences’.

Of these, the one that received the least attention, ‘Loving’  - a best actress nomination for Ruth Negga was all it got - impressed me the most. Fascinating story, superb, restrained acting and noticeably fine photography.  ‘Moonlight’, on the other hand,  which  famously received the Oscar for Best Picture after the great presentation debacle,  left me pretty cold - as I saw it, a thin story that took a painfully long time to tell. As a tale of a young  man coming to terms with his homosexuality, I thought ‘Brokeback Mountain’ beat it into a cocked hat. (To coin another phrase.) Without all the Oscar fuss, I doubt more than three people outside London would have seen 'Moonlight’ in the Ukay. Now there will be a few thousand more, most of whom will leave the cinema scratching their heads.

Kenneth Lonergan, who wrote and directed ‘Manchester By The Sea’ looked to me distinctly unimpressed that his effort hadn’t won the big prize. Can’t say I blame him. It most definitely should have.

(If your life is so impoverished that you really have nothing better to do you, you can listen to a podcast of two of my erstwhile  colleagues from Colourful Radio and I discussing the Oscars at length. The level of debate will probably go a long way to explaining why we got chucked off. https://soundcloud.com/jammiemedia/sets/the-oggscars-2017 )