#and then do a little alt stream talking about the beauty of night in the woods

[aimseytv]

change of plan

third part of night in the woods will be today at 7pm GMT and we will (maybe) finishing it!

then.. i’ll do a late night BACK TO ORIGINS stream tomorrow and continue the little glass roof :D

[asexualzoro]

it's december 9th, meaning today is my 23rd birthday (which is my favorite number!), which means it's time for...

Lew Writes Wrapped 2023!!!

im including anything that happened after my last bday, so we have some works from december as well. this one's a bit of a weird one for the total word count, you'll see why

it's all treebark from my sideblog / alt ao3. i cannot change. i will not change. for these im just gonna specify the relationship that's the main focus bc thats easier than fandom bc all but like one are third life

dandelion wishing

(Dec, 2.4k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

op movie 6 au for dogwarts in which Martyn is the baron and Ren doesn't know he's dead

id actually plotted out a whole third life au for this movie like months prior and really wanted to write it, so i took it for treebark week and focused it just on these two. it's my fave movie of all time and i obvs had to give it to my fave completely dead team <3

i will admit tho. it did make me back search martyns twitter to see if hes ever posted abt watching this movie. bc i know he likes One Piece and i realized this would bring me into the danger zone (he hasnt ever posted abt it if hes seen it)

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(Dec, 5k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

treebark dating sim isekai parody that spiraled out of my control made in a day-long possession

im still baffled by this one. why was the response to this one so insane?? there was smth in the water the day i posted this bro. a 1:2 kudos to hits ratio for the entire first day is literally fucking unbelievable. 70 comments?? what hold did this fic have on you people. i got fic written about this one?? my friends goncharov'd me in front of my face

really fucking fun to write and the insane response was smth im always gonna remember. i appreciate you guys so much

treesekai also turns a year old in a few days!

Until the Angels Realize You're Not One of Them

(Feb, 7.2k, emerald duo, oneshot) (link)

a traitor phil au which was mostly just me talking about all the reasons i love technoblade

this one... wasnt actually written this year for the most part? i didnt want to not acknowledge it, since it's on my ao3 in this year, but i wont be able to count it toward the total

still. traitor phil au my beloved. hearing him say on his stream he and techno wanted to do a betrayal arc made me feel insane bc i already had this written at the time

missing or obstructed

(2022-present, 12.9k, Grian & Ren, ongoing) (link)

post 3L fic about Ren and Grian seeking out closure with a lot of funny little sleep metaphors

same deal as the last fic, i, uh dont think i actually wrote anything new for missing or obstructed this year either? just uploaded chapters i wrote last year,,, i didnt wanna now acknowledge it, but i wont count this in my total later

i miss her. one day ill actually sit down and write more missing or obstructed. in my doc im JUST at introducing Martyn and i havent written it yet

to reach my mangled debut

(Sept, 4.2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

it wouldnt be me if i didnt have an execution somewhere in here. another op au!

THIS. I LOVE HER. when rev and i were plotting out the whole storyline for smop renchanting i was begging please give me this scene i need it and i had so much fun writing it. i rlly need to finish soon but i haven’t had time but please. please check out smop. she’s top of my priority list to update

Three-Dog Night

(Sept, 6.7k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

BIG DOG. beauty and the beast au!

god im so fond of this au. there’s some rlly good scenes written for this and unposted bc i just need to link them together. honestly i think if i took a month and focused it on this fic alone i could fucking finish it but i don’t have the time ;-;

that said i’m so enamored w this au genuinely. o dunno what else to say i just think. puppy

Cover Me In Roses

(Sept, 3.3k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

lamplight roleswap! put Martyn in a flower pot

i don’t feel as motivated to work on this one when i have lamplight unfinished so it’s lower on my priorities but know i have like an entire arc of this written and unposted. we just have a few paths for this one and i have to decide which one to use

it’s so wild to me lamplight has like. aus. like this isn’t even the only one? a roleswap. that’s insane? it’s wild that you all like lamplight enough i can even get away with this

First Sign of a House Fire

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i love superhero stories for two reasons: plots about secrets and adapting the characters to give them powers. this had smth fun for both of them

yellow rose isn’t super high on my list of priorities to update (i think the oneshot is interesting on its own) but one day,,,, it’s part of the many aus cherri and i have but it’s the longest for sure. the doc for just this au is like 100k words long on its own. at the time i draft this cherri and i are actively writing smth else for it in another tab. theres like 4 offshoots and im obsessed w all of them. we had to make ocs about this one. i’m excited to eventually add more to this series

actually that’s one of the scenes i’m most excited for and most dreading adding. we made a backstory oc and im SO attached to him and im excited to post a thing out there w him but. ough. whatever cringe is dead i’ll get there eventually and brute force my way into attaching you to our funky little robot guy

also love that this fic forced me to be decided on a docv characterization that i have to stick to. he may be a canon guy to martyn’s vtuber lore but he’s my oc now too

Blindsided

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

pirate au and royal au based on a big secret and also stuffing a guy in a box and it's all stupid dramatic literally what else do you want or need in life

this is my wife. my favorite. my most beloved. blindsided gives me new illnesses and diseases. i have just one scene to write before i can update it and then i can continue unleashing her. god i love this fic the drama of it is SO fun.

the funny thing abt blindsided is i know all the plot chronologically but now how to Present it which is part of why i haven’t continued too much. eventually i will but until then know that one of the scenes im sitting on which has been fully written is one i think about constantly. hopefully when i post it cherri’ll let free the comic she did for it

i actually have the ending of this fic written i just need to get there lmfao. second on my priority list after smop i think

Cradle of the Leviathan

(Sept, 1.5k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i just love mer aus man. whats the point of it all if you cant have mer aus. just get a big ol fish

i have the ending of this au written as well and literally so little of the lead up. but this is pretty low on my priorities. i think this one stands just fine on its own. mer aus are nice like that

we actually have a few mer aus but for now i’ll be focusing on this one. i do have a few sweet post story things written for this one. maybe one day i’ll write enough to post em lmao

Lamplight AU

(2022-present, 47k, treebark, ongoing) (link)

renchanting dnd/fantasy au, martyn's a paladin and ren's a lamp

so i started this au last year. my wrapped last year said my total was 20k, so that means this year's total is.... 27k!

and… it was just lamplight’s birthday and i did all my appreciation for the fic and its readers then, but god. i love this fic so much and i love you all who have read it and been so kind about it. the amount of popularity it has makes it a bit nerve wracking to work on, but i still really want to see it finished. i hope to see the bulk of it done by this time next year!

Six Sentence Sunday

six sentence sunday is a challenge where i try to post six sentences i wrote that week every sunday, to keep me writing every week of the year! i do it over on my writing blog, @driflew

i did not keep up on my six sentences,,, i had a lot of sunday fencing tournaments. i did for ~33 weeks this year! thats a pretty good amount! i’ll have to be more on top of it next year tho

unpublished work

the last few years i havent included unpublished work, but with the extreme bulk of it, i wanted to note it down. cherri @/cherrifire and i have been writing a lot back and forth at each other in discord dms this year, and i wanted to include those in my count! bc holy fucking shit is there a lot of them

i didn’t include collab pieces, just pieces i wrote alone. i also only included the renchanting aus i share w cherri and scarian aus i share w flowey, nothing else—no unfinished lamplight or other independent pieces or oneshots, no original fiction for class, nothing. i also missed a few u haven’t moved to docs yet. so i’m lowballing by a few. thousands. of words

the total for those is...... 135k words! there is,,, something wrong with me

total and end notes

our total this year is...

187512 words!

that might be my highest word count yet! because i caught treebark disease. wild.

something really fun about this year to me is i really loved everything i wrote.

if you want to get me a gift or support me on my birthday… maybe try reading my work and reblogging it or leaving a comment! you can find my writing at driflew or skelew on ao3, follow my writing blog at @driflew, or even consider tipping my kofi!

thank you for sticking with me and supporting me this year! i really appreciate it! hopefully i can break 100k next year too!

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Snowy Favours

i wrote this for one of my favourite humans in the entire world! @queen-of-demons-and-hell i just kind of forgot to post it on here oops

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

She smells coffee. And then pancakes, and then freshly squeezed orange juice. And suddenly she's three days into a Indonesian island holiday and there's sun streaming through her windows and the sheets draped over her bared skin are cool and if she opens her eyes she'll be met with ruffling lace curtains and the sight of the ocean just over the deck.

Annabeth Chase wakes up to silence. To darkness. To New York plunged into winter as if Khione had taken her rage out on the city over night. Snow covers the concrete buildings, already turning sloppy and muddied with the trek of never ending people. She is nowhere near Indonesia, nor in a villa overlooking blue waters. She is in her grungy apartment in her more-mattress-than-bed bed and the single window in her bedroom looks out onto the brick of the building next to her. In short its just another Monday morning.

The disappointment that floods through her is breathtaking. She feels her life swallow her up, wrapping around her lungs and squeezing as if it had taken lessons from a python. Her fingers curl around the duvet pulled over her as she stares at the wall, at the pictures littering it. She takes a deep breath, another, another. Slowly the python loosens, her heart returns to it's normal rhythm.

Glancing at the small pink clock on her bedside table she almost groans as she sees the time. Three minutes till her alarm rings. Not enough to dive back into bed but enough to consider it anyway. She forces herself to get up, feeling the cool of the wood under her feet and traipses to the bathroom where she is met with tile, the sudden cold pulls a hiss from her.

With a zombied look in her eyes she goes about her morning routine: pee, teeth, shower, change, scrounge around in empty cupboards for something at least half edible, scarf another energy bar when nothing better makes itself known, and then finally pack her bag and make her way out. She can do it with her eyes closed by now, sometimes she even does.

Still as she steps into the biting air that comes with snow her body wakes up considerably. With a curse that middles Greek and English, she twists her scarf tighter around her neck and pulls her beanie over her ears. She decides she can spare a moment to go to her favourite coffee shop this morning just to throw down a hot drink that hopefully scorches her insides.

With a determined step she sets off to the subway, earbuds shoved into her ears blaring "do re mi" by blackbear. A violent song for this early in the morning but one she mumbles along to all the same.

The coffee shop, as she so lovingly calls it, is more like a caravan sized hole wedged between two skyscrapers. It fits maybe five people comfortably, ten if you're looking to be smothered. But the coffee is beyond magical and they have the most decadent blueberry muffins she's ever had the pleasure to eat. Besides her best friend works here and really if anyone can turn her from bruised-eyed zombie to semi-human it's Percy Jackson.

The door creaks as she steps through, announcing her presence. She's too busy basking in the warmth of the little hovel to worry about the greeting thrown her way.

"Gods it's cold out there." She sucks in a breath, feeling her lungs defrost.

"Yes," Percy grins, "I suppose someone pissed off Khione again."

She rolls her eyes, as her body collapses against the black marble counter. "Khione gets pissed off about everything that's hardly an excuse to give us all frostbite."

"I suggest you take that up with her, because I cannot see any of us coming out alive after that conversation."

"Just give me a coffee you menace," She scrunches her nose in distaste, but cannot keep the playfulness out of her voice.

"Want a blueb?" He shakes a paper bag, something thumping inside. "On the house." The accompanying wink sets her cold skin on fire.

Her eyes narrow as she surveys him. His unruly black curls are kept back by three butterfly shaped clips, bright pink and probably Estelle's, and his skin browner— like dark roast coffee— from the weekend his family had taken in Spain three weeks before glows softly under the warm yellow light hanging above then. The black polo neck he wears under his "Holed Up" company t-shirt, makes his eyes look darker than normal. His jeans, faded blue, stand stark against the rest of his outfit. Even like this, in work appropriate clothes, he looks beautiful. Looks like the beginning of spring, and the happily ever after of stories, and the change of tides.

"What are you planning?" His look of incredulity almost makes her laugh.

"Why would you think I'm up to anything?"

"I've known you since we were twelve Jackson," She scoffs, as if his question is ridiculous in itself. "I know every face, every expression, every movement of your body. I know when you're up to something." She finishes off with a glare for good measure.

His green eyes are bright as he studies her, emotions warring across his face. To spill or not to spill. He pushes her coffee across the counter and she looks at him expectantly as she grabs the cup with both hands. Her numb fingers instantly start to sting with the sudden change in temperature.

"Fine." He sighs, looking at her through his lashes as if maybe be could get away with not telling her. She raises a brow. He curses under his breath and flops down on a chair hidden behind the counter.

"I need your help with something—"

Yes, of course, is on the tip of her tongue. She would do it. No hesitation. There's not much, not anything, she wouldn't do for him.

"But before you say no or worse get mad you have to hear me out." He finishes quickly. And then his eyes are big and pleading and she doesn't know if she wants to turn away or lean in closer, study that captivating green like it's the newest find in her paleontology class.

Instead she clears her throat, "What is it Percy?"

"I need you to be my fake girlfriend." He says it in one breath.

She almost asks him to repeat in case she hadn't heard right. But she knows she did. She knows she couldn't have heard anything else

He swallows. She blinks. He drops his head to his hands, a sigh already on his lips. She opens her mouth, snaps it shut.

"Okay I know it's...odd," He starts, "But I kind of got roped into going to a mixer with some people from my class and this one guy asked if we could go together but I don't really like him so I said no." Percy was rambling but she was too speechless to stop him. "But then he looked really hurt and I felt really bad so I kind of said I already had a partner which made him look less hurt but then Piper, the girl hosting the mixer, over heard me and said I should bring my partner along, since a few of them were bringing their partners, and you know I couldn't exactly back out of the lie after that so I said I would and well..." He gestures between them. "Then this happened."

Annabeth takes a sip of her coffee. And another, she downs almost half the cup before she has the ability to talk. "Why don't you just say your partner is sick on the day?"

It's her first question and instantly she wants to take it back. Because the flinch Percy tries to hide is enough to have her scrambling for a way to take back the words. Because it's not that she won't be Percy's (fake) partner, or even that she doesn't want to.

It's more that she doesnt know if she'll be able to draw the line between fake gestures and her very real feelings. Having a crush on someone for the better part of eight years tends to tug at her emotional side in a way that overules her logical one. Yes she can be Percy's fake girlfriend. No her heart won't believe the lopsided grin he gives her when he makes a bad joke will be 'just for show'. Yes she can hold hands with him and meet his friends. No she can't help the jump in her stomach as she sees the interlaced fingers.

"You don't have to." He says quietly. "I'll think of something." He waves it off, a small smile already finding its way onto his face. She knows, even without careful study, that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. She has to fix this.

"No." It comes out in a snap of rushed regret. "I will, I want to."

He looks at her, gaze wide, hesitant. "You do?"

She nods and then, as if the gesture isn't good enough stumbles through her words. "Yes, I want to." Her smile is shy, but the beam she's rewarded with nearly knocks her off her feet. "I think it'll be fun."

He scoffs at her, waving a hand. "Everything we do is fun. We're Percy and Annabeth."

And he says it's like there's no other way their names could be said. Like if someone says his hers must follow. Like if someone says hers his cannot possibly be far behind. He says it like they belong.

Her heart does a giddy sort of flip that spreads warmth through her chest and in her stomach, better than the coffee ever could.

"Okay Percy Jackson." She holds out her hand, to shake on. "Let's pretend to be madly in love."

With a wink, that causes her brain to explode, he takes her hand in his and turns it over before placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles.

She becomes the air itself. And as she floats to lectures she decides maybe it's not just another Monday. Maybe she did wake up in a paradise of sorts. Maybe life isn't so dull. She laughs to herself.

It can never be dull if Percy is there. It never has.

[shirtlesssammy]

15x13: Destiny’s Child

Welcome to our last new recap for a while (frowny face). We’ve got a couple requests that we’re going to work on in the next couple weeks, and then chip away at all the episodes we have yet to do while we not-so-patiently wait for more episodes. If you have requests, don’t hesitate to ask! 

Then:

Cas loves one (1) pizza man.

Now:

Late night study sesh in the bunker is interrupted when Sam and Dean hear a weird noise down the hall. They take off for the armory, only to find a Fiat and ---SAM AND DEAN?! (And while I guess it’s not, I’m just rolling with the idea that Savage Garden is blasting from that little clown car. I mean, really, what a perfect song and one I never thought would EVER pop up on this show --okay, or any show, it’s been like 20 years since I’ve heard that song, lol.)

The rift flickers and Alt!Sam and Dean disappear. 

They tell Cas about what happened. Billie pops up to tell them that Chuck is almost done destroying all the other worlds. They have to be ready --and by that, she means, it’s time for the next step in Jack’s training. He needs to find the Occultum. Sam helpfully translates that as “hidden.” It is hidden --lost for centuries. 

Once Billie takes off, Sam sets to learning more about the Occultum. There isn’t much. Dean ponders the futility of killing God. Doesn’t Jack need to kill Amara too? Cas gets a lead on the Occultum from Sergei. Dean and Cas flirt unnecessarily. Cas is so patient with all of Dean’s ideas, I can’t help but think that this is a common thing with these two.

Anyway, the Occultum was owned by the Jacobson family for a long time, until they used it as payment to heal their son. The healer was “attractive, and she healed the child by laying on hands which glowed.” I don’t know if there’s been an unattractive person in this universe, so good luck finding the healer! 

Lol, j/k, there’s only one angel healer that’s attractive out there! Sam and Dean find Anael and want her help with killing God. She thinks it’s wiser to stay on the side of the all-powerful being. When the brothers flash their angel blades (eerrr…), Anael confesses that the Occultum is really with Ruby. (I was one of the many rage viewers with this, but well, we’ve been rage watching these writers for so long, and we’ve had to handwave SO much over the years. What’s another plot point that we can easily headcanon at this point? Sigh.)

We get a flashback of Ruby and Anael negotiating the sale of the Occultum. Anael then tells them that the Occultum was never actually sold because they ganked Ruby before she could do anything with it. It’s now safely hidden in Hell. 

Jack, meanwhile, is busy getting back to life. 

Cas finds him in the kitchen eating EVERYTHING. Jack notes that coming back alive really makes you pay attention to what life is. “Hot, cold, sweet, spicy, funny, scary.” (Kind of like Sam when he was soulless, Jack is describing sensations, and not feelings, emotions, not really getting at what life really is.) They talk about Jack’s soul and what he felt when he had one.

Jack admits that he understands that he hurt Sam and Dean, and wonders if Dean will ever forgive him for what he did to Mary. “Dean, he feels things, more acutely than any human I’ve ever known. So, it’s possible he could work through this. One day, he may explode, and let it all out, and breathe deeply and move on.” 

Okayokayokayokay. Jack wants to know how long that’ll take and Cas admits that he doesn’t know, and I’M FEELING about how this ageless, ancient being is just WAITING for Dean to do this very thing. He has all the time in the world from his perspective. He knows Dean --really knows him, and it doesn’t matter how long for him because time doesn’t really matter for Cas (I mean, I think being close to humanity and all it probably means more than it used to but...I’m just rambling about my feelings right now. This is Boris --Natasha is far more coherent and eloquent with her thoughts, lol.)

The brothers make it back to the bunker, planning on heading to Hell. Cas leads them to a room where Alt!Sam and Dean are stuck between the worlds. Dean doesn’t care at this moment --he wants to get the Occultum. They tell Cas their plan and he thinks they’re crazy. They could be searching forever down there. (UH, they’re LITERALLY BFFs with the Queen of Hell.) 

Anyway, Dean and Sam head south while Cas babysits the spell. 

Cas still doesn’t like this plan and hatches a plan with Jack so he can talk with Ruby in the Empty. 

(I know, you just have to roll with Buckleming episodes, etc., but their insistence on making it beyond easy to jump from realm to realm is MADDENING.) 

We get a mention of Cas’s deal with the Empty, so that really is still a thing. Cas is “far from happy”, so we’re good!

His plan is for Jack to “draw out most of [his] lifeforce” and store it in a flask. What’s his “lifeforce”? His grace? Something more? Something else? How does he die without his grace? How is he just mostly dead but still able to go to the Empty? 

We’re also giving this exchange: “If I screw up?” “Well, then I’ll be lost forever.” WHOA. What kind of fucked up parenting are you writing, Buckleming? Good thing Jack doesn’t have a soul, because that’ll mess with a child forever.

Also, why can Jack use his powers now? 

Sam and Dean are ambushed in Hell. Anael wanted them dead apparently and made a deal with some demons (ONCE AGAIN, like Rowena would allow this to happen!?!??) They’re Sam and Dean Winchester though and easily dispatch the demons. 

Cas stalks through the Empty calling for Ruby. “Hello, Clarence,” a familiar voice says and Cas turns to find Meg reclining on a throne. He looks sweetly surprised to see her before his face falls as he realizes she’s the Shadow from the Empty. 

The Shadow may be allied with Billie, but they’re definitely not good buds with Cas. Nevertheless, “Go get her, pizza man,” Shadow!Meg says and a ball of flame swirls towards Cas and turns into Ruby. 

Cas asks about the Occultum, and Ruby asks after Sam. Cas refuses to answer and, since I’ve been stress re-reading some regency romances lately, I’m gonna go ahead and say he acts like an affronted chaperone. 

For Gratuitous Cas Science:

We see another flashback of Ruby and Sister Jo’s wild adventures, only this time Jo is the one who invited Ruby to talk to her. Jo tries to tempt Ruby into hiding from the apocalypse in the Occultum. It turns out it’s a place AND a thing. A whatever, if you will. Ruby cut a deal with Jo, hid the object, and then died her noble death. 

Ruby promises to help Cas as long as he can get her out of the Empty. You see, instead of lullabies and sweet dreams, or even quiet and no dreams, the Empty is nothing but endless reels of regrets playing over and over for every angel and demon trapped there. “Yeah, I know,” Cas says quietly and we all break a little bit thinking about how he swore it was nothingness instead of constant emotional torture. (That’s SO on brand.) Cas promises to try to free Ruby in exchange for her intel.

The Winchesters return to find Jack babysitting the spell alongside a MOSTLY DEAD Cas. Despite Jack’s (actually really terrible) explanation, Dean and Sam demand that Jack bring Cas back right away. Jack unscrews the flask.

Cas isn’t getting out of this so easily, though. The Shadow smirks and clenches Shadow!Meg’s fist, sending Cas to the ground in pain. The Shadow still is no fan of Cas, and is only willing to uphold deals with Billie, who promised to send the Shadow back to a lovely snooze if they cooperate. 

The Shadow ruminates on the fact that Billie has never mentioned Cas as being essential to her plan. This makes Cas expendable. 

Cas sputters to life suddenly, only to face Dean’s angry-worried greeting. “You’re an idiot, by the way!” Apparently still in pain or just suffering from almost-not-quite-dead-and-now-actually-quite-alive syndrome, Cas hauls himself up slowly and explains that he now has all the info they need to find the Occultum. “Am I still an idiot?” Listen, boys. Kiss and make up, mmkay?

They’re off to tackle the Occultum quest, but before they go they need to set out some decoys to throw Chuck off their scent if he tries to spy on the bunker. Dean suggests pulling AU Dean and Sam out of the void and setting them up as fake Sam and Dean. He flippantly suggests using Cas’s grace to power the rift this time and FOR THE LOVE OF PIZZA DEAN it’s called body autonomy. 

Cut to the Winchesters Set One and Set Two seated at the map table with beers all around. We learn:

Alt Winchesters are also hunters

Their dad is alive (but still SUPER controlling)

They don’t drink beer or watch porn

Private planes fly them all over the world to fight monsters

Their AU could be a middling CW pilot about wealthy monster hunters called “Hunter Corp”

I have a greater appreciation of our flannel-clad boys

Dean and Sam clumsily explain their ploy and their relationship with God and it’s not weird at all! 

Later, Team Free Will 2.0 heads to a small church. It’s guarded by a hellhound, which makes Dean SUPER happy and comfortable in his skin. They break into the church and look for clues about where the treasure is hiding. The clue is that the top of a cross points to the treasure. Moonlight streams conveniently through the window and at JUST the right angle to cast a cross of light on the floor. They pull out a little velvet bag from the floorboards.

Cas reads Enochian on the little golden snitch-style ball. “In order to be in the Occultum, the Occultum must be in you.” 

Back at the bunker, Alt!Dean and Sam enjoy their new rugged life. Sam watches kitten videos, and we continue to identify very strongly with him, indeed. Alt!Dean finds porn on Dean’s computer and I continue to ask WHY WHY we have to constantly cycle back to Busty Asian Beauties. Porn isn’t objectionable, but that SPECIFIC porn franchise should have died a swift death back in season two. (Boris: AMEN)

Jack swallows the Occultum, as one does. “Spit it out,” Dean demands. But Jack disappears into a flare of light. He wakes up in a garden. 

No, he wakes up in THE Garden. He’s greeted by a young girl who tells him that humans are prohibited. A snake confronts Jack. “Who are you really? Who are you meant to be?” Jack flashes through his good and bad memories and suffers an epiphany. 

He flutters back into the church like Tinkerbell in a ball of light before zapping back into reality. His reappearance burns away the two hellhounds. 

Back at the bunker, Dean sends the Alt Winchesters off to Brazil to enjoy the beach. He’s a little uncomfortable around them until he learns that the Alt Winchesters drove Baby. Then they get shoved out of the bunker just as fast as you please.

Once they’re gone, Cas tells Sam and Dean that Jack has returned changed. He leads them to Jack who hunches over the kitchen table. Jack is crying. He apologizes for killing Mary. He has his soul back!

“Please forgive me,” Jack whispers, and a symphonic line carries us into the black.

Overall Surprisingly Enjoyable Quotes:

The healthcare system sucks so I pick up the slack

Cas, you know what’s good about being dead?

I’m far from happy, so I should be fine

We had a good thing until he killed me

You’re gonna have to lose the man bun

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[sinceileftyoublog]

Cassandra Jenkins Interview: What I’m Dealing With

BY JORDAN MAINZER

I’ll always remember where I was when I found out David Berman died: on the highway, driving back from a beautiful hike in Southern Illinois, unable to pull over and look up exactly what happened, instead occupied by my own thoughts. Singer-songwriter Cassandra Jenkins processed his death in a similar mind’s isolation, though she was closer to Berman than many. Set to play in his Purple Mountains band and finding herself mourning and grieving mere days later, she had to make a change. Her old songs didn’t feel appropriate; she had to write about her loss. She got on a plane to Norway and starting writing what would become An Overview on Phenomenal Nature, her remarkable new record out next Friday on Ba Da Bing! Records.

An Overview on Phenomenal Nature is not so much a record about Berman’s death as it is one about processing things that are out of your control. Yes, he’s mentioned by name, and Jenkins’ self-described “diaristic” details refer to her story, like on “Ambiguous Norway”, where her Purple Mountains tour outfit comes in the mail and she looks at it wondering what could have been. But the album’s a document of a period in Jenkins’ life rife with general change and her responses to it. Knowing she’d need some songs she could feel good getting up and singing for an opening tour for The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn, after writing in Norway, Jenkins returned to New York to flesh out the new tunes with multi-instrumentalist, producer, and engineer Josh Kaufman. The songs are rich, but simple, leaving space for Jenkins’ matter-of-fact singing and storytelling with efficient instrumentation. On “New Bikini”, she considers how much immersing oneself in nature as a healing force really helps, thinking out loud about Berman over acoustic strumming and Stuart Bogie’s layered saxophone. “Michelangelo” is an alt-country ripper about the eternal limbo of dealing with trauma, Jenkins comparing it to a virus (“Treatable, not curable”). The epic “Hard Drive” starts with a voice memo of a tour at The Met Breuer as Jenkins reflects on different people in her life that have affected her, big and small, spoken word over Bogie’s sax; “The mind is just a hard drive,” she posits, storing information, unknowing of when a small moment might just turn profound. It’s these small moments--interactions with strangers, birdwatching in Central Park--that pepper An Overview on Phenomenal Nature and simultaneously prove to be further artistic fodder for Jenkins, a sort of symbiotic relationship of inspiration.

When I call Jenkins from her home in upstate New York, it’s clear she’s still embracing these small moments, especially as ways to cope with the push-pull of change. She had just come back from a walk in the woods and was considering going again after we were finished. “Walking has been the thing that gets me through everything right now, especially if you can find a little patch of nature wherever you are,” she said. Gearing up to release an album after being in essential isolation for a year due to COVID-19, Jenkins released “Hard Drive” on January 20th and was surprised by its rapturous response, as it landed on best-of-the-month lists and garnering a coveted Pitchfork Best New Track designation. Now, she’s receiving a slew of interview and live stream performance requests, balancing between being outwardly social and retreating to her isolation. She gets through it with her walks, and talking to friends, including those who work at Ba Da Bing!, fully aware that the significance of any given instant may or may not immediately present itself.

Read my conversation with Jenkins below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Is it weird to put out a new record at this moment in time?

Cassandra Jenkins: It is very weird, [but] I’m very fortunate. There’s no part of me that’s bummed out that my record is coming out during COVID. It’s really the opposite--this is the most I’ve been in touch with people this entire time. It’s so nice to be feeling connected to people through my music. I feel like this record is different than my other records. I don’t feel precious about it. It has launching pads for conversations. We’ve put out two songs so far, and it’s reached more people than I thought it would ever reach--it’s been really wonderful but also overwhelming, to go from spending all of my time very alone, in complete solitude, to hearing from a lot of people in my life I admire and who I feel shy around because I look up to them so much. I’m having this very strange cognitive dissonance of being totally alone and getting really comfortable with that, to talking to a lot of people. It’s sort of like being in two completely different gears at once.

SILY: Was it the Pitchfork review of “Hard Drive” that caused a lot of that?

CJ: Yeah. I blame Pitchfork. [laughs]. Those rascals! They’re blowing up my solitude. But yeah, Pitchfork was very unexpected, especially right now. I was set to put this [album] out in the spring [of 2020] on Bandcamp. But I’m thankful that this record is coming out at this moment in time. A lot of the record is about processing a difficult moment in my life. I think a lot of people are in that moment in their lives for a lot of different reasons. Oddly, though it’s very personal, it seems to be resonating with people. Had I talked to you a week ago, I think it would have been a different conversation. But the music stays the same. I’m feeling really excited by it but overwhelmed by any amount of attention, to be honest. Hearing from a few friends would be overwhelming at this point because I’m so alone. [laughs] I can’t underline that enough. We all are. It’s bizarre.

SILY: David Berman’s death was the catalyst for this record, but is it the focal point of the loss that comprises the record? Or did it inspire you to reflect on past losses and trauma?

CJ: That’s a good question. While it’s the catalyst, I wouldn’t say it’s the center of the record. It’s what launched me into this moment in my life, where I thought things were gonna be one way, and then they were not. And then they changed again. And then they changed again. A lot of rapid change in my life, and writing the record was partly out of necessity. I was planning on going on tour with the Purple Mountains band, coming home, and then going on another tour opening for Craig Finn. I was gonna play my songs I had in the bag. Once my tour got cancelled, I couldn’t play my old songs anymore. I’m really obsessed with Tig Notaro, and I heard her talk about what it was like getting a breast cancer diagnosis, and getting up on stage telling [old jokes], she just couldn’t do it. She had no choice but to write about what she’s going through. I’ve listened to her so much through this pandemic because I find her spirit and general approach really inspiring. In a similar way, I had that moment in my life, too, where I was like, “I can’t get up here and play these songs anymore.” So I wrote it all really quickly, partly so I could go on tour and sing songs I could actually sing. I tried--I booked a show at one point a month after [Berman’s death], in September, and I tried to play my songs and ended up completely abandoning them and doing this weird, pseudo stand-up set. [laughs] It was definitely not good, and after that show, I was like, “I definitely cannot get up and do this every night on tour.” I really respect Craig, and I’m not gonna open his shows this way. I had to write new songs. I have this thing, which is a tour, and what I’m doing on this tour is singing songs, and I need that, so I’m gonna make new songs.

SILY: Did you do stripped down, acoustic versions of these tracks from this record, opening for Craig?

CJ: Yes. And Craig has a great saxophonist in his band, Nelson Devereaux. Usually, it’s Stuart who plays on the record, but this was this [Nelson], and he ended up joining me for my set near the end of the tour. I usually end up playing things a little differently every night. I’ve never been too streamlined about what I do. I like staying on my toes. Usually, by the end of the tour, I’ve collected a musician or two playing with me. I was glad to have a saxophonist, because these songs have a lot of saxophone.

SILY: There are a lot of biographical moments and specific references to David on here and what happened. In the songwriting, how did you balance those more concrete moments with broader metaphors about what you were going through?

CJ: Except for “Michelangelo”, which was the only song I had worked on before, so it’s kind of an outlier, I was pulling from my journal and from my song journal and voice memos. Things I had written on scrap paper and on the subway on the way to the studio. It was very much a sound art kind of process of pulling together pieces and fragments of a lot of different moments from a very short period of my life. I was really just processing what I had been through, and what I had been through was this brush with playing with a band that was a dream come true and meeting this person I felt immediately attached to. It was strange to only know him for 4 days and have so much of my life really change. Total strangers can have that effect on me. I think that’s what I was taking away from a lot of my observations at the time: You can have very brief encounters with people that will dramatically change how you see the world. It’s a chemistry that can happen if you’re in the right mindset. They [can] say something to you that can be transformative. I’m not always looking for that. I walk into it. It’s really profound, and they’re not really trying to do that. David is one of those people, and he’s so much more than that. It’s very strange to be writing about someone who was such a brilliant writer and feeling, “I don’t feel like I have any business writing about this person, except in the way they affected me.” That’s my experience, and that’s my experience alone. I can write about that experience, but it still felt strange at the end of the day with anything outside of my direct experience of this person, because it feels really silly to think about approaching him or his work any other way. 

SILY: The emotional centerpiece of the record to me is “Ambiguous Norway”. You reference your tour outfit coming in the mail, and you’re never able to use it.

CJ: It was super weird. We all wore our suits to some of the memorials that happened

SILY: There’s a line on there that sounds like something David would have written: “The poetry, it’s not lost on me / I’m left asking how it found me.” I was interviewing someone else yesterday who had an album coming out about various types of loss, and on it, she questions how much meaning there is in loss. At what point do you stop trying to find meaning in it and accept the chaos or randomness of it? Is that something you were thinking about here?

CJ: Yeah! I feel totally inadequate so much of the time with language. It feels impossible to translate the bizarre and exquisite experiences and naturally occurring events in my life that might be brief and fleeting. How do you encapsulate that in language? It feels impossible. It’s just everywhere around me, and it will go just as quickly as it came. Sometimes, grief and loss, which may not have inherent meaning, can activate a certain way of seeing in us that allows us to see meaning everywhere, and it’s this manic, supercharged way of looking for meaning in everything. I’ve had other tragic losses in my life in the past. I remember a high school friend’s mother came to me at a funeral once and came to me and said, “There’s nothing like someone dying to make you feel alive.” There’s that element of it that turns you on to things in a heightened way. I was in that heightened mourning space and also travelling. When I got home, I felt like I was seeing everything through the lens of a traveler, observing my surroundings with so much more open space. It reminds me of reading Michael Pollan’s book on How to Change Your Mind. [When you take psychedelics], your inhibitors are knocked down in this new way. Extreme experiences like grief and loss can have that effect as much as they can also be painful. I think I was just in that space of seeing meaning and seeing connections between things and feeling blown away and not knowing what to do with them. I was like, “I am just gonna let this wash over me.” Only I can really see this harmony, and it’s pointless to explain it to someone else. It feels like I’m the only one that can make sense of it in a particular way and feel tickled by it, for lack of a better word. To feel a sensation of two things coming together in front of you.

One thing I was thinking about was this conversation I had with someone when I was out in Norway. Here I am, sitting on a dock by myself, almost at the edge of the ocean. I was writing my journal about my experience with David--it hadn’t even been a week. This Danish fellow rolls up and starts talking to me about clouds and how in Denmark, the cloud formations there look like mountains, partly because they don’t have a mountainous landscape, so they get to have the mountain feeling from the clouds. He said it in a much more poetic way, but I was thinking, “This guy doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I’ve gone through. Here he is talking about mountains turning into clouds, and David’s middle name is Cloud. Like, what?” Then Katie Von Schleicher texted me this cartoon that David had done. It was the drawing of a house that said “Ambiguous Norway” at the bottom. In the middle of having this uncanny conversation with a stranger, and she sends me this cartoon, it’s all this swirling stuff. I was really overwhelmed, but it was really funny, also. I felt like I didn’t know what to do with any of it, and I was writing it all down, but feeling like I was always falling short. It was isolating, but I didn’t feel alone--I was dissolving into whatever atmosphere and landscape I was in.

SILY: Your mention of the stranger reminds me of the line in “Crosshairs”: “All I want is to fall apart in the arms of someone entirely strange to me.” Of course, post-COVID, people might look at that line and think you might miss being around people.

CJ: I thought about that. It could totally read that way now!

SILY: You also have the line about a virus on “Michelangelo”.

CJ: That freaked me out, too. It does feel strangely prescient. I felt squeamish putting out a song like that. Right before COVID hit, the last performance I saw was Renee Fleming singing Bjork’s "Virus” with an orchestra. It was so beautiful and so surreal. It’s not the first time that someone’s dropped a metaphor about a virus in the song, but it’s still weird it’s on there.

SILY: Is it possible to understand this record without knowing the context?

CJ: I hope so. It’s strangely diaristic. I’ve always thought that we should be able to appreciate any art, whether a watercolor or a piece of music, without knowing the context. There are works of art that of course are incredible when you appreciate everything around them, like the footnotes of T.S. Eliot. Reading it for the first time, and how much context there is, this deep web, and how great it is to get into that person’s world and mind. But I appreciate art most when you can walk up to it and appreciate it as is, and learning more about it might deepen your appreciation if you’re curious. The fact that something deeply personal can be appreciated without context, if it’s coming from a real place. I’m embarrassed to think that it would have to be dependent on the context. I hope there’s both a reverence for the experience I went through as well as realizing there’s one of many experiences, and maybe the experience I had of running into someone at the farmer’s market can be at equal weight when thinking about our lives and the way we take things in.

SILY: We haven’t yet touched on the instrumentation of the record; it’s so layered and beautiful. How did you and Josh approach complementing your words with arrangements and instrumentation?

CJ: That was very intuitive. Josh is an incredible musician. We were just playing with stuff in the studio. We knew we wanted to get Stuart Bogie in there on the saxophone, and he also plays the flute. It’s actually kind of a stripped down record compared to my last one. I thought I was gonna go into the studio and walk out with an acoustic guitar and a vocal, and that would be the record. But we started playing with things, and Josh was playing with things while I was on my way to the studio in the morning, and suddenly there’s fretless bass on it! We’re both like, “Man, I love that!” It was never going in with an expectation and working with someone who I really trust. Josh and I really worked on these songs together. It was always guided by a lyric and a lyrical structure already in place. It kind of reminded me of working with soft clay: taking something out, putting something in. Versus walking in with a slab of marble and chipping away at it, which my last record was a little bit more like.

SILY: “Michelangelo” was started before this record, but I really am intrigued by the contrast you pose in it about the three-legged dog in the song: “Looking for what I lost” versus “Working with what I got.” Do you think that dichotomy is exemplary of the entire record?

CJ: That’s funny. I didn’t think of those things as being on polar sides of the spectrum. It’s a metaphor that’s kind of funny to me, because it falls apart when you see a three-legged dog. They’re not looking for what they lost. They’ve adjusted their gait. They’re such a beautiful model for what it is to lose something, work around it, and build balance. They do that naturally in their physiology and psychology, and they’re playing frisbee just like every other dog as if nothing happened. Of course, some of them do have mobility issues--I’ve met a few more [of those] recently. But it’s the human experience to add so much aversion to any feeling of loss. You have that analogy of getting shot with an arrow, and it’s often in our nature to shoot another arrow into the same wound by saying, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I was shot by an arrow,” instead of mending to it.

I have some medical issues, and I often am really frustrated by feeling like I’m handicapped. All of us have to face at some point or another the limitations of our bodies. To feel, “This is what I’m dealing with.” I can either be frustrated that I’m not a perfect specimen, or I can work with it. I can be myself and just enjoy that self as long as I get to live on this earth, amidst all this chaos and imperfection and wonder. That’s what “Michelangelo” is about for me, and feeling similarly about trauma. “Gosh, if I hadn’t had this traumatic experience as a child, maybe I’d be President of the United States by now, but instead I have all these bad habits because I have this deep, limiting self-belief.” But coming back, I’m like, “My trauma is actually a portal for me to connect with people and myself and get closer to a more universal experience. That’s a great gift, and I have to work with that.” That whole song is me being, “God damnit, why am I imperfect in this way?” but it’s actually the thing that will teach me more than anything.

SILY: On “New Bikini”, you sing a lot about the water. Do you find the water to be a particularly healing thing to be in or by?

CJ: Yeah. I was born right next to the ocean. [But] that song is not totally sincere. It’s a little bit of me collecting advice from people that at times brought me solace and at times was frustrating. It’s like, “Hey, get in the ocean, it will make you feel better!” “Yeah, but it’s not gonna bring someone back from the dead, and it’s not gonna fix my DNA, and it’s not gonna heal this person.” At the same time, it’s going to help me. I’m taking mineral salt baths every night and finding them to be really healing for my nervous system and thinking about that song. [laughs] I also ironically got very sick on contaminated water at the very beginning of 2020 and hated that song for a minute, as I was feeling really dejected about water. When I play that song on tour, I love that there were people in the audience who heard it, and came up to me after the show and said, “I never feel better than I do when I’m by the ocean. Thank you. I love being by the water, and that song took me there, even though we’re in Dallas.” This middle-aged woman was able to think about her really good time being at the beach. [And I’m thinking,] “I’m happy this is a space for you that you can access and that we can access together.”

SILY: When did you realize you wanted to release “Hard Drive” on Inauguration Day?

CJ: It was logical timing for when the release date was, and I saw it was on Inauguration Day and questioned whether it was a good idea. But it is a good idea because the song embraces change and struggle and a moment of time where we can pause and breathe because there’s change happening. It’s been a tough time for a lot of people. If we can talk about that, then great! It was really nice on Inauguration Day to have a song come out and not really pay attention to it. I actually felt, “All of America is having the same experience right now.” Really, the whole world is looking on. To get to experience again, very alone, a universal experience, watching the shift of power happen. I’m not really sure I love attention--I think I’ve always been way more comfortable not having attention--so I really loved, “Hey, here’s this song, gotta go, let’s watch the President now!” There was something about that moment. That people got to hear it days after the Inauguration because the type of people that gravitate towards my music were experiencing a collective relief. We could actually take a breath. So it may have reached people in a way it might not have otherwise. I didn’t realize how much it would be felt or how much I’d be feeling that day. I cried a lot that day. I think a lot of people did.

SILY: Is “Hailey” named after the actress you mention in the song, Hailey Gates?

CJ: [laughs] Yeah. I had a song called “Halley” on my last record, and I wanted to make a follow-up Halley. Halley 2.0. The other one was written by my friend Ian, and it’s a love song for the comet. So I figured I would write a love song for Hailey Gates. She’s a friend of mine and is someone I’ve often thought of when I’m going through a difficult moment, like, “You know what? That woman is so incredibly powerful in everything she does.” I look up to her so much, and I don’t think she really knows how much I look up to her. When I got really sick from drinking contaminated water, I would think that Hailey was a reporter for several years of her life, traveling, getting food poisoning, and still managing to get her message across with such grace and gusto. She has a real grit to her I admire. Grit is something that I look for in people. The fact that she has that and is also stunningly beautiful and very feminine is a cool model. I also like the challenge of writing a platonic love song and writing about another woman and letting it be about celebrating someone. In the end, it was nice to have this contrast: Mourning, but celebrating people who are alive and inspire us while we’re here. I feel kind of bad: if someone wrote that song about me, I’d be really embarrassed. I felt a little bit of shyness about it. But I hope it’s just a sweet way to celebrate women in general, and she’s sort of my mascot in that moment. Women who are really smart and powerful and have this gentleness about them as well. She’s got all these qualities that are really striking. She’s a really brilliant person. She deserves to have a million songs written about her. I’m probably one of many.

SILY: Has she heard yours?

CJ: [laughs] Yeah, she has. I think she got embarrassed. I finally sent it to her a few weeks ago, and was like, “Hey, I’m putting out a record and wrote a song about you, I hope that’s okay.” She said she was really honored to be on the record. I also reached out to Lola Kirke, and she joked, “Why didn’t I get a song about me? I just got a mention on ‘Hard Drive’.”

SILY: In the lyrics sheet for [instrumental] “The Ramble”, you have a link to a YouTube video of Chris Cooper birding in Central Park.

CJ: The Ramble is a place I went very much every day at the beginning of the pandemic. I was really saddened by the story of Chris Cooper but really impressed by the way that he handled it. I really thought of him as a role model for how we can handle intolerance. There are a lot of ways to handle intolerance and ignorance, and the way that he handled ignorance in that moment I thought was so beautiful. That interview with him is great because it’s really more about him and how he relates to birding and what a great person he is as opposed to the hatred we could walk away from the story with. He really shifted the emphasis away from behavior that was ignorant and racist towards a conversation of tolerance. He exemplified that. It’s rare you see that. I found him to be really inspiring. That’s one of so many things that happens in “The Ramble”. It was added later on. I recorded “The Ramble” when a lot of the protests were happening in New York. I went from being in The Ramble [alone] every day and birdwatching, which is something I do in a meditative way that really grounds me...to me going to some of the protests. I watched Central Park really transform into this place of progress, I guess, but it also has this life at night, known for nefarious things like drug deals, sex. It’s this wild place that I was starting to see as my sanctuary. When I saw the Chris Cooper story come out, it really saddened me, because the birding community was something I thought of as untouched. It’s so pure and beautiful. I’d seen Chris many times, and I was really sad someone treated him the way they did, and to see how in that moment that story became really important because there was a broader story happening in the public eye. He had this moment to be himself.

So “The Ramble” isn’t as much about him as about me wandering. Janet Cardiff is an artist I really love. She has a Central Park walk you can go on. It’s an audio guide that she made. It’s a poetic collage of songs and history. It really transforms the way you hear. I originally recorded my own binaural audio guide to The Ramble and ended up taking it out. I realized, “Ok, this is an album and there might be someone in Australia listening to it. How can they enjoy this walk? It’s probably better without me narrating how to walk in the space.” But it originally had this timed narrative with a start and end where you’d go on a walk with me. The ghost of that narration is there, and it’s ended up instead a spatial experience--hopefully.

SILY: The record ends with these two lighter tracks, a tribute to a friend and to a place. Was it important for you to order the album such that you talk about the loss in the beginning but it ends on this different note?

CJ: Definitely with “The Ramble”. I made every other song before COVID. I wanted “The Ramble” to exemplify how much life has changed for everyone since these songs were written. I wanted to bring it into the world we’re in now. And I want to bring it into a world with peace and hope in it. Those are two big words that are corny sounding, but I want there to be a moment for you to find peace and tranquility in a world of chaos. It is still there, and it’s okay for you to take that for yourself. Not only can we find that peace within ourselves, but we can find beauty in it and admire our surroundings. We can still appreciate everything we’re given, even in a total crisis. The Ramble was a place for me where I’d find that every day. I’d wake up at 5 in the morning every day and look at birds and feel myself vanishing in that landscape in this tiny corner of nature. I wanted to leave everyone on that note: Nature is gonna figure this out. It’s gonna take over and come in through the cracks in the sidewalk. If I can end the record with the dandelion coming through the cracks in the sidewalk, I’d like it to be there.

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

CJ: That’s by my friend [Ole Brodersen]. He thought it was an interesting photograph. He’s the one in “New Bikini” that I’m visiting and he left me a post-it note that said, “Get in the water, it cures everything.” He’s a good friend of mine. We visit each other every few years. I love his work; he’s an incredible photographer and has a large-format photography darkroom he created, on an island, off the coast of Norway. In this photograph, he uses long exposures and kites. He plays with light in natural landscapes around where he lives, with this kind of unknown element in a really static environment. It’s hard for me to speak for him, but he likes to have a lot of control over his photography, and this beautiful landscape is his origin, and there’s this element of an unknown variable in all of his photographs. I looked at that photo as a beautiful example of what I’m talking about in “Ambiguous Norway”. It’s almost like there’s this intangible spirit that’s this element of poetry in the air that you can’t quite identify what it is. It’s almost a literal interpretation of that, where you see this floating magical orb in the middle.

He was such a wonderful host. When he wanted to give his partner a gift--he wanted to give her a down pillow--he shot the ducks himself, created the down pillow, and I ended up eating a bone broth made out of the bones of those ducks at some point in his house. I was like, “This is really living in your environment and thinking about the way you interact with people and objects and your environment around you.” If I can touch a fraction of that, I’m doing great.

SILY: Are you planning on playing these songs live?

CJ: I am getting a lot of calls now to do stuff online. I would love to play with a band in real life. I think about it every day. I didn’t realize how much I was going to miss playing live. I can’t wait to put a band together. I have all these different fantasy leagues in my head of which band I’d want to bring with me on tour. If this record has any kind of positive reception, I’d love to be able to pay my band really well, finally, after years of not being able to and my friends coming on tour with me because we like being with each other. I realize I can’t do that forever, and we need to make a living. That would be so great. It’s a dream of mine.

SILY: Have you thought about how you’re adapting the songs to the stage? Or is that dependent on the configuration of the band?

CJ: I think the songs are pretty flexible. “New Bikini” is only 2 chords. The songs themselves are really simple. My last record has fancy stuff. This one is “A” and “B” and that’s the whole song! I love songs where it doesn’t matter who is there and what instruments are playing, as long as we listen to each other, the song will just flow. It’ll depend on whether I’m opening for someone, how much I can afford, what feels good in the moment. I think they’re gonna take their own shape.

SILY: Is there anything else next for you in the short or long term future?

CJ: I have to be honest. I’m having a lot of anxiety because I feel like when I’m able to do things again, I’m not really ready for that yet. But I’m going to be. I feel like there are certain dreams I have about getting to play music. I’m working towards being capable of seeing those dreams come true. I hope that my health is in a good place and my mental health is in a good place. It’s been a really hard year for all of us, and I want to make sure I can be easy on myself as I ease back into the world. As much as I want to go to a party, I actually will need a lot of gradual time to ease back into the world again and process the path. We’re all going through a lot right now.

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been listening to or reading or watching lately?

CJ: I’m reading a book called The Peregrine. It’s one of Werner Herzog’s favorite books. It’s really cool. The author is English, and he’s studying birds to the extent that he almost becomes them. He talks about transmutation of landscapes and clouds and birds in a way that I was like, “Oh my god! He’s drinking the same tea I am.” But he takes it to an extreme degree where he’s questioning his sanity--and you might be questioning mine, too, at this point. [laughs]

I was just listening to Caroline Shaw. I’ve been listening to Tig Notaro’s podcast. I wait for it every week. It comes out every Wednesday, so today was my lucky day. [laughs]

[shillanseva]

Mitchsen prompt: Role Reversal. Aubrey takes a liking to Beca from the first moment they met, ambushed her in the shower and then was incredibly flirty with her. Chloe is the Aca-Nazi hell bent of kicking Beca out of the Bellas. Bonus point if their personalities stay the same (Intense Aubrey, bubbly Chloe)

@madammayor28 Alright so I tried to write this prompt like four times before I finally got what I have now. I really liked this prompt so I wanted to do it right. I’m still not completely happy with it but I figured it was better to get it out there rather than drive myself nuts with it. So I hope you like it! Thanks for the prompt. 

Aubrey Posen had two problems. The first of which was a tiny alt. girl by the name of Beca Mitchell who was the cutest pain in the ass that Aubrey had ever encountered. The second was her best friend and literal bubble of cheer Chloe Beale.

Now normally, Aubrey wouldn’t classify Chloe as anything other than a godsend. She was the best friend that Aubrey ever could have asked for, an amazing roommate, and just a genuinely good person. That is, until Beca arrived. Then it was like suddenly something snapped in the redhead, and the only thing Aubrey could liken the mood swings to was the possibility that Chloe’s body had been possessed by the spirit of Dolores Umbridge and Beca was a Gryffindor.

Chloe hated Beca. She hated Beca with a vehemence that shocked most anyone who had ever met the redhead. No one ever would have guessed that Chloe even had the ability to hate someone, let alone hate them as strongly as she hated Beca. Her best friend was Aubrey “General” Posen, one of the most easily disliked people on campus, and she still chose to hate Beca Mitchell, resident loner and newest weirdo at the campus radio station.

It was driving Aubrey up the wall. All Aubrey wanted to do was put together a winning acapella team. She wanted them to sing well and dance well, and she didn’t care if they got along outside of rehearsals as long as they kept their shit together during practice.

Beca had been doing her best to field Chloe’s anger. It had started at the activity fair. Beca had meandered by the booth and stopped when Chloe nearly smacked her in the face with a flier. And Chloe had been recognized immediately.

The year before, the Barden Bellas had made it to the ICCA’s after a grueling year under the leadership of Alice the Terror. She was a tyrant in every sense of the word with some added song and dance, and she blamed Chloe for their loss—probably the real start of Chloe’s problem. Chloe accidentally set the stage on fire during their last performance—something involving a broken heel and an unfortunate run in with a stage hand and his spot light. And Beca had seen the video and enjoyed it immensely. Needless to say, their first interaction didn’t go well.

Which sucked. At least as far as Aubrey was concerned, because Beca was cute. And Aubrey may have flirted with her after Chloe stormed off at the activity fair. And Beca had sort of dug it and might have given Aubrey her number—not that Aubrey would ever tell Chloe that. She would probably explode.

Aubrey had a serious toner for Beca though. The night of the activity fair when she had returned to her shared apartment with Chloe, Aubrey tried to convince Chloe that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having Beca on the team. This had led to a stream of colorfully phrased insults at the brunette’s expense from her “ear monstrosities” and “emo makeup” straight down to her high school scene-kid chucks. Aubrey had liked the edgy look on Beca, but Chloe assumed it meant she should be in prison for arson or something. It was honestly shocking to Aubrey to hear the way Chloe ranted about Beca. She didn’t think Chloe had one judgmental bone in her body, but apparently Beca brought each and every one of them out. Aubrey had decided then to forget about Beca for Chloe’s sake.

And then there’d been that shower.

Aubrey was doing her best to forget about Beca. Her best, meaning she only sort of watched Beca on campus rather than full-fledged stalking her. She would catch glimpses of the freshman around campus usually with headphones in her ears or on her laptop. Sometimes she would be sitting with a guy she recognized as the other radio intern. Aubrey didn’t like when he was around, but knew she couldn’t let it bother her because she and Beca had spoken once, and Chloe’s friendship meant more than whatever fling she and Beca might have had.

She was trying to give up on talking to Beca again. She really was. So it’s not like she tried to end up in Beca’s dorm after her morning workout the week before auditions. She just hated the gym showers and Baker Hall was the closest dorm to Barden’s Wellness Center.

She had just finished rinsing the conditioner from her hair when she heard foot steps enter the locker room. The slap of flipflops against the floor made Aubrey pause and listen. She was technically breaking like ten rules by being there so she didn’t want to get caught by an RA with good timing.

Whoever had entered was humming softly to themselves. Aubrey recognized the song as Titanium, a David Guetta song if she remembered correctly. It had hit the top forty stations not too long ago and Chloe had taken a particular liking to it. Aubrey would often hear it through the walls of Chloe’s room at night when she was doing God only knows what.

The humming passed her and Aubrey returned to her shower. She pulled face wash from her shower caddy and closed her eyes enjoying the feeling of the soap against her skin, but when a voice rang out clear through the bathroom her eyes shot open.

“Shit,” she mumbled to herself as she tried to rinse the soap from her eyes. She shut down the shower and grabbed her towel before wrapping it around herself and shuffling out of the stall.

The voice that distracted her was coming from a few shower stalls over, and she went to stand in front of it. She knew she was being creepy. She knew it, and yet, she was still debating whether or not to talk to the girl behind the curtain.

“Hello?” a familiar voice said. Aubrey’s eyes widened as she realized she’d been caught. And then widened more when she realized who was singing.

“Beca?” Aubrey asked. Her heart stuttered for a second with hope. When Beca’s face appeared around the curtain, Aubrey’s smile beamed at the brunette. “You can sing?!”

The smile on Aubrey’s face was almost painful. Beca’s voice had been amazing. It was low and feminine and sort of gave Aubrey chills. Beca was slightly flushed and she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the shower.

“The tone of your voice is beautiful,” Aubrey said trying to back off on the excitement a little. She didn’t want to scare Beca off, especially not now that she knew Beca actually could audition for the Bellas if she could just convince her. “How high does your belt go? You have to audition for the Bellas.”

“Dude,” Beca said, smirking. “You need to breathe.”

Aubrey hadn’t even realized how quickly she was speaking and she snapped her mouth shut. She met Beca’s eyes and felt herself tense when she realized they were both very much naked. And Aubrey was very much naked standing in the middle of a dorm bathroom in a towel, completely out in the open.

Beca seemed to realize the same thing because her eyes dropped and slowly ran up Aubrey’s body and ended finally on the smirk that had settled on Aubrey’s lips.

“Like whatcha see?” Aubrey asked with a wink. Beca nodded dumbly and then shook her head when she realized what she was doing.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Looking for some action,” Aubrey responded like duh. Beca snorted and shook her head again. “Showering. The gym’s showers are gross.”

The sound of footsteps entering the locker room startled Aubrey into motion. Fearing the arrival of an RA, she pushed Beca back into the shower and ducked behind the curtain with her.

“Dude,” Beca said grabbing for anything and trying to fight the flip in her stomach that resulted from Aubrey incidentally pushing her against a wall. Aubrey set a hand over Beca’s mouth quickly.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Aubrey clarified. Beca glared at her from behind the hand, and Aubrey glanced down slightly smirking and raising an eyebrow at Beca. Her amusement grew as the slight flush on Beca’s cheeks broadened to her neck and ears.

Aubrey stood there thinking for a second. Beca really did have a lovely voice. She wanted to hear it again. Actually, she was afraid she would never hear it again. “Hey you were singing Titanium right?”

“You know David Guetta?” Beca said, eyes widening.

“What?” Aubrey said and shook her head slightly. “Have I been living under a rock?”

Aubrey watched Beca’s mouth fall a little bit and continued, “Look, I heard you singing. You sounded great. Could you maybe sing it again?”

“We’re naked,” Beca said, voice dropping incredulously. “In the shower. And you want me to sing for you?”

“It’s not like I asked you to sleep with me,” Aubrey breathed, annoyed. Though, judging by Beca’s heated face and sudden desire to look anywhere but at Aubrey, she’d say that maybe Beca wouldn’t have minded that.  “Just sing it. I promise I’m not going to do anything crass.”

Beca sighed with a vocal groan, but relented after several seconds of laser-like eye contact with Aubrey. Her rich, earthy voice filled the small shower stall and sent shivers down Aubrey’s spine. She almost forgot to join her because she was so enraptured.

Beca’s eyes met Aubrey’s as the blonde turned the song into a duet. She felt her walls give way under Aubrey’s forest green eyes, and her breath hitched slightly. There eyes held each other for several seconds after they ceased singing.

“Wow,” Aubrey whispered. She hadn’t wanted to ruin the moment, but if she hadn’t spoken, there was no way she would have been able to stop herself from surging forward to kiss Beca—under normal circumstances, maybe not that big of a deal, but they were still naked. In the shower. After Aubrey had just forced herself into the poor freshman’s shower.

She held her breath for a second and looked away from Beca to calm down before meeting Beca’s eyes again. “Saturday. Bella auditions. You should be there.”

She left the shower as quickly as she dared, worried the stray RA might still be around—worried Beca might say no. That night, Aubrey had been happy, but anxious. If Chloe had noticed she didn’t say anything. She knew she was acting weird though, jumpy. She was waiting for Chloe to ask, and Aubrey knew she would never lie to Chloe which meant telling her about her morning with Beca.

The next week passed slow. Aubrey kept a look out for Beca around campus, but it seemed like the freshman was avoiding her. Aubrey didn’t really blame her, but it did leave her disappointed all the same.

When Saturday finally came Aubrey felt so anxious, she was surprised she wasn’t vibrating in place. With each passing audition, she grew more and more tense. Her jaw was sore from how hard she was clenching her teeth. When Justin announced that auditions were over, she could have cried. Chloe opened her mouth to say something to Aubrey, assuming that her friend was upset about their prospects, but when Aubrey’s eyes suddenly lit up, she snapped her mouth shut.

“Wait!” Aubrey yelled. “There’s one more.”

Chloe looked back to the stage, and felt her lip curl as a short brunette stepped out from backstage. She did a double take back to Aubrey who had suddenly relaxed, smiling back against her seat, and Chloe scowled further. Had Aubrey invited her?

“I didn’t know we were supposed to prepare that song,” Beca said with a grimace as she moved cautiously to stand in front of the pair of captains.

“That’s okay,” Aubrey smiled warmly at Beca. “Sing whatever.

“But Aubrey—” Chloe was cut off by a glare from her friend.

Beca stepped forward and then settled down onto the stage, crossing her legs. She pointed to a cup of pens that sat between Chloe and Aubrey, “May I?”

Aubrey nodded her head and Beca grabbed the cup and dumped the pens onto the table making sure that none of them fell onto the floor. When Beca sat back on the stage, she set the cup in front of her upside down and began a quiet percussive beat. Her alto voice joined the beat soon after.

Aubrey felt like she was hearing Beca for the first time all over again. She was mesmerized by the sound. She honestly felt like she could fall in love with Beca just by listening to her sing—a thought that startled her enough to look sideways at Chloe to make sure her friend hadn’t seen her going gooey-eyed.

Chloe was looking at Beca like she’d grown a third head. No way could this walking travesty have a voice like that. She was better than ninety-percent of the other singers they’d heard that day. It wasn’t acceptable. Beca didn’t even like acapella. And she definitely wasn’t Bella material.

When Beca finished her song, Aubrey was all teeth with a smile that stretched across her face. The sound of a throat clearing distracted her from the compliment she was about to bestow upon Beca, and instead she turned to Chloe who was handing a pink audition sheet to the freshman.

“You need a form,” Chloe said not looking up from her stack of papers that she was now slowly shuffling into a neat pile. “You didn’t prepare the audition song, so don’t expect to hear from us.”

Beca’s face fell, and Aubrey looked at Chloe. The red head gave her a look like “well she didn’t.”

They argued that day. Aubrey and Chloe had never fought before, but Aubrey fought for Beca on their team like she was trying to save a puppy from being euthanized—like Beca’s life depended on being in this group. And while maybe it wasn’t Beca’s life on the line, Aubrey didn’t even know how much Beca needed to be a part of the Bellas. Her dad had made her a deal that she needed to join a club or organization, and so far, the Bellas were the only thing she thought she could stomach. She certainly wasn’t going to spend an hour running in a circle with those kids she saw at orientation.

It took three hours before Chloe finally relented and agreed to recruit Beca. Aubrey had a point. They needed extra members in case they lost some along the way. Chloe just hoped Beca would be one of the ones that they lost.

Beca was surprised at how happy she was when Aubrey showed up at her dorm that night—even if she did seem like an axe murderer with that hood. Beca had actually sort of enjoyed being kidnapped by Aubrey, and not even in a kinky way. She liked the closeness of Aubrey’s hand guiding her from her lower back, and how Aubrey had to press close to Beca to pull the hood off later that night.

Aubrey knew exactly what she was doing too. She pressed herself Beca just enough to be misconstrued as innocent, just enough to be seen as Aubrey being a touchy kind of person—which she wasn’t. And Chloe noticed.

She had been watching the way Aubrey interacted with Beca. She had been watching how Aubrey stood just a little closer to Beca than any of the other Bellas when she pulled her hood off, how Aubrey had watched Beca during the anti-Treblemaker part of their oath as if trying to gauge Beca’s reaction, and how Aubrey had winked to Beca when she handed the freshman the goblet of wine when all was said and done. Aubrey had a crush but she wasn’t going to let that ruin her last chance at a national title.

Chloe decided to give her best friend the benefit of the doubt. It was hood night. Aubrey could work off her frustrations, and hopefully forget about Beca. That hope was unfortunately dashed when Chloe caught sight of Beca talking to one of the new Trebles and Aubrey watching from several feet away as she pretended to listen to Amy. She couldn’t tell if Beca was flirting with Jesse or not, but it didn’t seem to matter because his existence was all it took to rub both Chloe and Aubrey the wrong way, though for entirely different reasons.

It took an hour and at least three drinks before Aubrey finally got up the nerve to approach Beca. She did so quietly, coming to stand beside the equally quiet freshman without a word. Beca had spent most of the last hour watching others enjoy themselves from the sideline and a half full red solo cup rested in her hand.

“I’m glad you showed up,” Aubrey said quietly. “I didn’t—I didn’t think you would.”

Beca didn’t respond right away, choosing instead to follow Chloe’s figure across the party as she went to replenish her drink. “I wasn’t going to.”

Aubrey nodded. “But you did.”

Beca smirked at her. “When a hot blonde shows up naked in my shower, begging, I try not to disappoint.”

“Do you often have hot blondes show up in your shower?” Aubrey said stepping closer to Beca. Aubrey knew she was a little drunk, but damn if Beca didn’t make her feel a little light headed anyway. She wanted to be close to the brunette.

“Only ones that force me to sing,” Beca laughed, bumping her hip against Aubrey’s. It was enough to make the blonde feel a little off-balance so she reached out to grab Beca’s arm. Beca smirked at Aubrey. “Had a little to drink, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” Aubrey smiled and straightened herself. She was very close to Beca now. Aubrey’s front was up against Beca’s arm which she hadn’t released. “I’m really glad you came.”

“I’m kind of glad I came too,” Beca said leaning back against one of the concrete seats. She felt awkward saying it. She didn’t do emotions. Even admitting she was happy to be at a party felt too intimate.

“Let’s go dance,” Aubrey said suddenly yanking Beca off her seat by her arm. She yelped as she tried to keep up with Aubrey down the stairs.

“You do realize my legs are only like two feet long right,” Beca yelled after her. “Holy shit, dude. You’re gonna break my legs.”

“You’re fine,” Aubrey said as she reached the bottom of the stairs and caught Beca on the bottom step. “Just means I get to hold onto you,” she finished with a wink. Beca snorted. She wasn’t drunk enough for this yet. She told Aubrey to hold on for a second while she got herself a new drink and downed it almost immediately, then got another.

“I needed to get on your level,” Beca said as she returned to Aubrey. Without an answer, Aubrey pulled her out into the crowd and laid her arms over Beca’s shoulders. After about five songs, both women were seriously feeling the effects of their drinks thanks to Stacie who had been passing around shots to the other Bellas. Aubrey still managed to drink twice as much as Beca though. With each song, Aubrey and Beca only got closer and closer to each other until Aubrey’s back was pressed against Beca’s front and they were rocking slowly against each other to the beat of the song.

Beca was feeling incredibly warm by this point. Aubrey was making her feel things that she knew she was better not feeling about her new captain.

“God you’re sexy,” Beca whispered to herself then quickly glanced to Aubrey’s face to see if the blonde had heard her. Apparently, she had, because Aubrey was smirking at Beca. Here eyes were half-lidded and had darkened considerably since the beginning of the night.  

“You know,” Aubrey said as she turned around. She leaned in against Beca and whispered next to her ear. “We could head back to my place.”

Beca shivered at Aubrey’s hot breath against her ear. She wanted nothing more than to say yes. She really did, but Aubrey was drunk. It wouldn’t be right. So no, she couldn’t. But she could at least make sure that Aubrey got home safe, so rather than answer, she grabbed Aubrey’s hand and tugged her out of the crowd. Aubrey took the lead soon after they left the amphitheater and pulled Beca close to her. She wrapped an arm around Beca’s waist and leaned heavily into her.

They reached Aubrey’s apartment after about fifteen minutes of walking. Luckily it was a cool, clear night and there was no rush. Beca quite enjoyed the closeness of the walk, even with Aubrey occasionally stumbling into her. She wasn’t exactly sober herself so she would sometimes stumble right back.

Aubrey fumbled with the keys in her hand until she managed to get them into the lock and push the door open. The apartment was neat and simply decorated. Beca thought it fit Aubrey’s personality.

“You have a roommate?” Beca asked, curious.

“Yeah,” Aubrey said as she collapsed onto the couch and kicked her shoes off into the wall. She let out a soft “oops” in response. “Chloe. She probably won’t be home tonight.”

“You live with Chloe?” Beca asked. Shit. She really shouldn’t be there then. “I should go then.”

“Why?” Aubrey pouted.

“Bree…” Beca said. Aubrey grinned at the nickname. “Chloe hates me. I probably shouldn’t be here when she gets home.”

“She won’t be home tonight,” Aubrey said as she grabbed Beca’s arm and pulled her down onto the couch. “Please stay with me.”

“That damn pout,” Beca said to herself. “Fine. But Aubrey…”

She wasn’t sure how to even say it without it sounding like a rejection. She liked Aubrey. There was no question about that. But she definitely couldn’t do anything with her while she was drunk.

“But Beca…” Aubrey mimicked.

Beca bit her lip, which was probably a mistake because it immediately distracted Aubrey.

“Aubrey,” Beca said pulling back from the blonde to sit on the couch and face her. “I’ll stay tonight. But you know we can’t do anything right?”

“Why?” Aubrey said quietly. She looked sad.

“You’re drunk, Bree,” Beca explained. “It wouldn’t be right. If we sleep together, I want to remember it. I want you to remember it.”

Aubrey contemplated that idea for a second. “You have to go on a date with me then.”

“Oh really?” Beca said smirking. “And what makes you think I want to date you?”

“Oh please,” Aubrey snorted. “You drooled when you saw me in that shower.”

“I liked what I saw,” Beca said. She smiled at Aubrey. A real genuine smile. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Beca spent the night on Aubrey’s couch after Aubrey decided there was no way the tiny freshman was going to walk alone across campus where all those frat boy predators lurk. Beca thought she was ridiculous, but was also sort of flattered that Aubrey cared about her safety. She woke the next morning to a cup of hot coffee next to her on the coffee table and a note that let her know Aubrey had gone on a run and she was welcome to her fridge.

She had no idea how Aubrey could be out running after the amount of alcohol she’d consumed the night before. Beca herself stayed huddled on the couch with her cup of coffee clutched to her chest. She wasn’t a morning person, and she already sort of loved Aubrey for making her coffee. She figured she should probably leave soon though. The first Bella rehearsal was that afternoon and Beca needed to wash the booze out of her pores.

She left a responding note for Aubrey and then began the trek back across campus. She was ready to go to rehearsal about twenty minutes before she actually had to be there. She had no clue what to expect from an acapella rehearsal, especially if Chloe was in charge.

To her relief, it seemed like Aubrey ran most of the rehearsals for the Bellas. Though what they did that afternoon could barely be considered a rehearsal. It was more like gym class. They ran laps and stairs for almost an hour. Beca felt like she was dying, but was highly amused by Aubrey slapping her ass every time she passed by.

Beca felt Chloe’s eyes on her the whole rehearsal. It was like Chloe was trying to melt her brain. Her hopes for Aubrey directing all of the rehearsal were later dashed when Chloe took over to start teaching them choreography. Chloe was harsh. She made them repeat sequence after sequence until Beca felt like her feet were going to start bleeding. And she knew that Chloe was teaching them the same dance routine that the Bellas had performed the year before. It had her constantly rolling her eyes.

“Roll your eyes any more and they’ll roll out of your head,” Chloe had said reacting to Beca’s disdain.

“You sound like my father,” Beca said as she moved through the next segment of choreography.

“At least I don’t dance like your father,” Chloe responded with a glare.

Beca snorted. Honestly, she kind of liked arguing with Chloe. Pissed off Chloe’s face matched her hair. “Yeah, you’re worse,” Beca said.

“Ladies,” Aubrey warned as she walked over to Beca. She stood behind her and grabbed her arms as she moved through one of the more complicated hand motions and guided her through it. She dropped her mouth close to Beca’s ear and whispered, “We need to decide when I get to take you on our date.”

Beca chuckled and turned her head slightly to look at Aubrey. “You think I’m still gonna go on a date with you after you made me do cardio?”

“Maybe I have another workout in mind,” Aubrey said huskily into Beca’s ear. A shiver dashed down Beca’s spine.

“Tease,” Beca muttered.

“Alright ladies,” Chloe called from behind them. “Let’s call it a day. I expect to see you here tomorrow evening on time and ready to run.”

“Is she always like this,” Beca asked Aubrey.

“No.” Aubrey frowned. “She wasn’t like this until after nationals last year. If anything, I would have been the hardass normally.”

“I bet it’s hot when you boss people around,” Beca smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aubrey said. Beca just nodded, liking the idea more than she would have thought. Aubrey laughed.

They were interrupted when Chloe cleared her throat behind Aubrey. “We need to plan tomorrow’s rehearsal,” she said noticing how close Beca and Aubrey were standing.

“Right,” Aubrey said. She gave Beca a sad look. “I’ll text you later okay?”

Rehearsals followed that pattern for the next couple weeks as they approached their first performance. Beca would piss Chloe off until inevitably Aubrey would step between them and distract Beca with mild flirting until Chloe moved on. Aubrey and Beca were able to plan a few dates in that time. Nothing fancy as Beca just wasn’t that kind of woman. She preferred laid back where she could get to know Aubrey without the pressure of dressing up or worrying about her image. They still hadn’t said anything to Chloe though. Aubrey couldn’t imagine how her best friend would react. She’d be angry that’s for sure. But Aubrey knew that Chloe wasn’t dumb. She knew that Chloe had noticed something was different. She just wasn’t sure if she’d noticed what.

Their first performance was a disaster that culminated in Chloe revealing that she had vocal nodules, a condition that had made Aubrey gasp in concern. Beca felt bad for the redhead. If they were that bad than it made returning to the ICCA’s that much harder for Chloe. And even though Chloe hated her, Beca kind of understood why she was such a bitch—didn’t mean she was going to lay off on her though. Chloe needed to be willing to work with the rest of the Bellas. They needed to be themselves, not the old Bellas.

By the time regionals came around, Beca and Aubrey were attached at the hip whenever Chloe wasn’t around. Beca tried not to let it bother her, but she knew Chloe was important to Aubrey and she couldn’t help wondering if Aubrey was ashamed of dating Beca. Aubrey had noticed that Beca seemed a little more reserved now whenever Chloe was around. She bickered less with the redhead and made fewer passes at her girlfriend-not-girlfriend.

Regionals seemed to make things worse for Beca. After throwing a punch to protect Jesse, and then tossing a trophy through a window, Beca found herself tossed into a jail cell. And because Aubrey couldn’t let Chloe know that she was basically in love with her rival, there were very few ways that Aubrey could help Beca. Jesse ended up being the one to call Beca’s father and bailed her out.

When Beca got back to her dorm that night and found the Bellas had camped out on her bunk at first she’d been happy, but then she’d fought with Chloe. And this time she wasn’t even trying to fight with Chloe, she was trying to help. They needed a new set list, even Aubrey could agree with that, but Chloe was adamant that they return to nationals the same way that they’d gotten there the first time. Beca’s mixes were personal so the fact that she was willing to share them meant a lot. And then she got completely rejected.

And that just added to the rejection she was already feeling when Aubrey hadn’t been the one to bail her out, but the guy who she was constantly rejecting. Beca could feel herself pulling away from the group—feel herself pulling away from Aubrey. It made everything that happened at semi-finals sort of inevitable.

“I told you she wasn’t a Bella.” The words had echoed through her mind like a gun shot in a canyon.

“Chloe don’t—” Aubrey started.

“It’s okay Aubrey,” Beca said. The hurt was evident in her eyes and she could feel the tears welling. “I mean, it’s not like you ever wanted me here anyway.”

Beca left before she could hear any of the words that followed. She knew it was a bad idea to join the Bellas. She knew it was a bad idea to even become friends with any of them, so why had she even bothered. It was obvious enough by how Aubrey kept her as a dirty little secret that she’d only wanted her there for her voice.

Beca knew she was being a little dramatic, and didn’t completely believe everything she was thinking, but that little voice of self-doubt was yelling at her for being stupid enough to get her into this situation in the first place. Not even Jesse was able to cheer her up any. Normally the overexuberant Treble was just ridiculous enough to crack a smile from Beca, but now Beca had completely blocked herself off from everyone. She ignored every text Aubrey sent her and any text form any of the Bellas. It killed her a little to do it, but she thought it might hurt more to talk to them.

The Bellas didn’t fair much better. Aubrey had shut herself away in her room after losing Beca, and Chloe couldn’t figure out what had happened. It took two days for Aubrey to finally open up to Chloe that she and Beca had been dating since basically hood night and now she’d lost her because she couldn’t bring herself to tell Chloe about them.

While Chloe couldn’t understand the appeal of dating Beca, she felt sort of terrible for the role she’d played in their breakup. Aubrey admitted they never really put a title on their relationship so it wasn’t really a breakup, but none of Aubrey’s breakups had ever hurt as much as Beca and her’s. Chloe loved Aubrey so that Aubrey was so miserable made her feel incredibly guilty.

It surprised the hell out of Beca when Chloe showed up at her dorm several days after semis. There had been a knock at the door, and Beca had gotten up and answered only to be pushed out of the way as Chloe marched into her room.

“Look,” Chloe said. “We don’t have to like each other. We don’t even need to get along, but you can’t block Aubrey out because you hate me.”

Beca blinked. She didn’t think Aubrey would ever tell Chloe about them, but she swallowed down the surprise and processed every thing Chloe had said.

“I don’t hate you?” Beca said and watched the surprise flicker across Chloe’s face. “Not completely anyway.”

“Does it matter?” Chloe asked raising an eyebrow. “Aubrey loves you and she’s locked herself in her bedroom crying because you won’t listen to her apology.”

“Aubrey loves me?” Beca asked, eyes wide.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chloe responded. Beca shook her head.

“Aubrey wouldn’t even tell her best friend about us,” Beca said, and Chloe nodded.

“Well we didn’t exactly make that easy on her did we?” Chloe laughed.

“I guess not,” Beca said. “Look I’ll talk to her. But I’m going to do it when I’m ready.”

Chloe nodded and turned around to leave the dorm but paused for a second. “Beca?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t hate you either,” Chloe said then turned and left the room.

Beca still hadn’t talked to Aubrey when she got the text from Chloe that the Bellas were moving on to the finals because another group was disqualified. Beca debated for hours whether she would show up to that rehearsal or not. Chloe’s words still stung as they ricocheted through her mind. Maybe she really wasn’t a Bella. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to see Aubrey.

But she showed up anyway—an hour late. And she arrived to mass chaos. A puddle of vomit sat in the middle of the rehearsal space and she could only guess that Aubrey had gotten too anxious. Chloe and Aubrey were wrestling over the Bella pitch pipe and the remaining girls were watching in shocked awe.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Beca yelled as walked further into the room.

“Beca?” Aubrey reacted immediately. She sat up and released the pitch pipe from her hand which Chloe snatched up.

“Um, hey,” she said quietly.

“What are you doing here?” Aubrey responded.

Beca tapped her foot against the floor and shifted her weight. “Chloe texted me.”

“Chloe?” Aubrey turned shocked to her best friend. As did the rest of the Bellas.

“What?” Chloe said. “We would be a person short with out her… and, while it pains me to say this, she might have some points. We need to change up our style if we’re going to win ICCA’s. And if we’re going to do that, we need Beca.”

Beca nodded once at the redhead understanding that this was Chloe’s olive branch. They might never get along completely, but they could work together for a common goal.

“Alright Beca,” Aubrey said taking a few steps closer to the freshman. “What do we do?”

“Um, maybe not here,” Beca said grimacing as she pointed toward the puddle of vomit that lay on the floor not too far from the group.

They agreed to meet later that evening in the empty pool where they’d had the riff off. It was the first time the group had really listened to each other.

Later, when all the Bellas had arrived, Beca circled them together and made eye contact with them all.

“Alright,” she said. “Aubrey, would you please pick a song?”

“Bruno Mars, Just the Way You Are,” she said. She didn’t even hesitate which surprised Beca some.

“Chloe, mind taking the lead?”

The senior nodded and began the opening lines. Beca joined her several lines later with Just a Dream before passing the solo off to Aubrey. She directed the group through the songs starting different vocal beats and rhythms to fill it out. She knew there was a meaning to the songs she and Aubrey chose, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to think too hard about it. She knew Aubrey was watching her as she sang. And she knew Aubrey wanted her to look at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet the blonde’s eyes. Everything still felt too fresh, and she wasn’t sure where she stood with Aubrey. When they finished the song, they agreed to meet in two days after Beca had time to create a set list and they all went their own ways—except Aubrey and Beca.

They stared at each other for several seconds, neither sure which was meant to break the silence. Aubrey was the first to break.

“I’m sorry,” she said and took several steps towards Beca. “I should have told Chloe, and I should have stood up for you.”

“Aubrey,” Beca said softly. “You don’t need to apologize for that. I should have been more understanding—I just got insecure. I didn’t want to be your secret. I wanted to be your girlfriend…”

“You should have been my girlfriend,” Aubrey said. “I would be proud to call you my girlfriend.”

Beca chuckled softly, but tears were pricking at her eyes. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Hey,” Aubrey said moving over to Beca and pulling her into a hug. “You’re not stupid. We both made mistakes. And we’re both kind of emotionally stunted.”

“Got that right,” Beca mumbled. She pulled away from Aubrey and missed her warmth immediately. “I need to apologize too. This would probably be better directed at Chloe, but I’m sorry for what I did at semis. And I’m sorry I took out my insecurities on you.”

“Becs,” Aubrey said. When Beca looked up at Aubrey, she surged forward and captured Beca’s mouth with her own. Beca’s lips moved against Aubrey’s in a dance she knew better than any other. God, had she missed kissing Aubrey. She knew she missed it, but she didn’t know how much she missed it until Aubrey was kissing her.

Beca threaded her hands into Aubrey’s hair and pulled the blonde closer while Aubrey’s hands landed on Beca’s hips grasping at the material of her shirt. When Aubrey nipped at her bottom lip, Beca gasped and welcomed Aubrey’s tongue eagerly into her mouth. She hadn’t even realized Aubrey had been walking them backward until Beca felt her back hit the far wall of the empty pool and she let out a soft groan. Her stomach was doing back flips over the way Aubrey’s lips moved on hers and the way her body pressed up tightly against her.

Their lips slowed down to lighter kisses and they just enjoyed the feeling of each other. Eventually they needed to break for air as both women were feeling lightheaded. When they pulled back, Aubrey rested her head against Beca’s, neither opened their eyes until Beca whispered something to Aubrey and then Aubrey’s eyes had shot wide open and she squeaked a high pitch “what?”

“I said—” Beca rolled her eyes. “I said I love you.”

Aubrey’s mouth flopped open, but Beca could see the twinkle in her eyes—the happiness in her eyes.

“I don’t need you to say it back,” Beca said quietly. “I just had to get that out of my system. I know you might not feel the s—”

Beca was cut off by lips once again covering hers, but this time softly and chastely. Just a simple touch of lips. It made Beca hum at the sweetness of the gesture.

“Beca,” Aubrey said opening slightly glazed green eyes to meet Beca’s deep navy blues. “I love you too.”

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-talia: It’s Starting to Feel Like Christmas

Hello, hello everyone! Joy to the world!

For some reason I thought this event began today, not yesterday, until pretty recently… but fortunately, while it’s a day late, I got to write this! I did plan on others, but I’m releasing this now so I can get it out just in case, especially since the two others could also fit on another day. This is mainly for 12/16: Presents, but it can also fit under Decorations and Traditions, so three in a row! Woot!

This time, I want to write more about characters I may have missed during Hetaween, since my character pool ended up narrower than intended. ...And saying that, I’m writing about two characters I’ve written twice in that event! Yay!

I debated whether to write about this topic in general or about it specific this year, but chose the latter. I hope I’ll get to release a more in-depth fic about it in general some other time. So yeah, I’m using some really fresh material again this time.

Oh yeah, BTW, most of my fics take place in my “Alt-talia” semi-AU where I aim to capture history and culture more faithfully and most importantly overhaul the many characters who make no sense drastically. This will especially be noticeable for England. So yeah, you have been warned. Though maybe he’s a bit OOC here compared to how I usually write him? Also, it should be noted that I use country names when talking about the characters as countries, and with human names when referring to them as individuals; while in Alt-talia the difference can be more hazy than canon, I mean more talking purely about their personal interactions and the like. 

Also, this is not intended to be shipping! 

This was supposed to be like a few lines with no real arc, but whelp. At least I still kept it short. Also there’s a deleted scene I didn’t know how to end as a bonus at the end. 

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(Oh, and those who read my fics; please comment or reblog? I work hard on these, and they would be highly appreciated.)

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It’s Christmastime Again, Lukas Haraldsen

Every year since 1947, Norway had a tradition of sending special Jul presents to a certain nation very dear to him. 

His Norwegian Spruce trees were prized by all; he regularly got bidders from all over Europe, and had witnessed many a fight over them get ugly. But the best of the best were only reserved for a certain United Kingdom; and the best among these, the Queen of the Forest, nurtured by the songs, voices, and arms of some of the world’s best, most loving foresters, for England. Specifically his capital, London.

After all, nothing could make up for the debt he had for him. In the dark days of Nazi occupation, London for him was hope; it was where England protected his royal family as they awaited the Nazis’ demise, from where the radio blared and urged him to fight on, where the skies have become a proving ground to show that the Nazis could be vanquished. 

He knew this year had been a mess for his friend, and his recent election, the second one that year, had done nothing to mitigate it; and while even Norway knew only he himself and his uncharacteristically impulsive decision really was to blame for his current situation, hopefully, this would improve his mood for the uncertain road ahead. 

Norway was a quiet, unassuming man, but he took his presents seriously. And he also took Jul seriously. 

And this year was no different. While he sent many trees every year to different cities in the kingdom, including to some of Scotland’s, the most important was of course the one sent to the City of Hope itself. 

And now, in the heart of Trafalgar Square, wearing a traditional sweater which may as well have been a T-shirt compared to the attire of the Londoners passing by as they started their day, whistling En stjerne skinner i natt and Vårres Jul to himself. 

“Mmm… Ah, Arthur!”

He waved and smiled gently as the man in question, dressed very much warmly in a thick duffel coat and wool knit scarf, came into view. 

“Ahem. I’m here too.”

Today beside him was one Peter Bates, or Sealand as he preferred to be called, adorably bundled up in a woolen coat, mittens, knit hat, and light blue scarf, now crossing his arms. 

“Right, right. Sorry.”

“Ello, Norway. Don’t mind him, he said he wanted to see the tree again and ‘His Highness’ Prince Bates told me to take him with me. Bloody cold here today, isn’t it?”

He was shivering a bit, his nose a noticeable red and his breath a white mist. 

“Nothing I’m not used to. I’ve been waiting for you here. I chose one which is much older and taller than usual. See for yourself.”

Norway moved aside so that his gift would be in full view of his friend. It was a product of the forests on the banks of Trollvann lake, raised with love as any tree worthy of Trafalgar Square would be, almost twice as tall and two or three decades older than the first tree to have had the honor to have the honor of being offered on this annual occasion. 

England stared at the tree. 

Silence. 

“Wow, it’s huge!”

Peter was the first one to speak, his eyes sparkling. 

“England? ...England?”

Norway asked, watching his blank expression. 

“Well… I know that I am causing quite a bit of annoyance, but if I remember correctly, you weren’t in the EU, right?”

Norway was now perplexed. 

England looked to him with a with an expression that could only be said to be both a gentle smile and disappointment at the same time. 

“It seems like it needs a drink, does it not? It looks a bit dry and quite thin.”

Norway thought he felt his heart sunk a little. 

Peter sharply elbowed England in the side, making him gag. 

“Sealand, please don’t.”

“It’s a present, you jerk! ...Don’t listen to Scrooge over here, she’s beautiful.”

“Well you do live on a metal platform in the ocean…”

He jabbed him again.

Norway’s face went a bit red. 

“She’s much older and taller than the usual ones. It won’t look just like a smaller one you would have in your living room.”

“Sorry. I’m just saying it looks a bit sparse, is all.”

Norway lifted up one of many boxes of lights. 

“Mmm… Well, will you be too busy to help?”

“Yes, am afraid. More negotiations and all. So I am presuming it will be lit in the cucumber style as per usua- ach!”

Peter this time kicked him in the knee, making the older nation’s legs buckle a bit. 

“I’ll help, Mister.”

The boy said. 

“No, no, you don’t have to.”

————

Norway had to admit; maybe he had gone too much for size this time around. But Peter insisted that it not looking completely picture perfect was what made it look real instead of “Plastic tat”. 

And, as usual, put up the lights his own way, pure white streaks from top to bottom, “cucumber style” as England called it. 

And despite his complaints, on the night of lighting two days later, as the streams of light lit up in the heart of London in the crisp air and Norway listened to Peter cheer loudly with the crowd, the mayor of Oslo give her speech, and children caroling, amongst a sea of Londoners peppered with tourists, England stood beside him. 

“Well, it indeed finally feels like Christmas now.”

Norway looked to his friend, whose eyes were on the star, towering almost 25 meters above. 

“Well… maybe it is not quite up to your usual quality. But stability has been hard to come by nowadays; this tree being here every year, that I can rely on.”

Norway merely gave a quiet “Mmmm.” in response. 

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So that’s that. If anyone desires an explanation, I’ll provide it in a reblog or something, but I’d rather my stories inspire further research.

Also, “Lukas Haraldsen” is the name I’m using for Norway now, since a lot of Norwegians don’t seem to like “Bondivik”. “Haraldsen” because the founding king of the country is said to be King Harald Fairhair, and as Alt-talia nations can choose their surnames I thought it would be fitting if the surname Norway chose was “Son of Harald”. This name isn’t final though. Especially “Lukas”; does baptism change names again? Also Sealand has been renamed to “Peter Bates” instead of Kirkland; I don’t know why Hima chose that surname, since Sealand’s whole shtick is that he wants to be seen as an independent country. Why would he have the same surname? “Bates” is the surname of his owners, BTW, if that wasn’t clear. 

Again, this wasn’t really supposed to be a complete story with a neat conclusion, and not as heartwarming as intended. Kind of a similar case to Keep Calm actually, which also just happened to involve England. It was an opportunity to show England being a d*ck because, believe me, Alt-England can be an absolute d*ck when he wants to be. But despite the fact that he’s one of the characters whose d*ckery I actually kind of enjoy writing in a Love to Hate way, I haven’t had the chance to do that so far in these events... and I guess I got halfway there? I guess just ending it on England passive-aggressively insulting the tree was just a bit too meanspirited for me. 

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Deleted scene

<F%CKYE4H: Wow, it’s like ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ in real life! What, are you gonna break out the aluminum trees now?>

<StillInInferno: Mate, at least you have a real tree, because down here it’s not only hot as hell but if I had any Christmas trees to begin with, they’ve already fucking burned to shit.>

<MooseOfMaple: Dad… With the hassle you’ve been causing everyone you might not have the right to complain about someone showing kindness and holiday spirit to you.>

Arthur huffed as his children ribbed him in the family chat that night. 

<RuleBritannia: Don’t preach to your father, we went over this.>

<F%CKYE4H: Still, giving, not receiving, y’know.>

<MooseOfMaple: Dad, please… As someone who knows spruce trees very well, I do question Norway’s decision, but still. The world doesn’t revolve around you anymore.>

<RuleBritannia: I do not think that. Please stop accusing me of it.>

<BlacKoru: Yeah. It revolves around America. Make of that what you will.>

<F%CKYE4H: Kiwi! I can see that!>

[cogentranting]

Favorite Lyrics from Every House of Heroes Song

*Overall favorites marked with an asterisk

What You Want is Now

Julia- "All the time you walked away The truth was at your fingertips"

Barbara’s Birthday- I never said that I love you dear I never knew, I never knew your heart at all  

Mercedes Baby- Hold loosely to my hand 'Cause it's a long, long road And you don't know and I don't know where it goes

The Drugs the Drugs- Talking in your sleep Telling stories that you keep In a drawer beside your bed

The Lead Role in the Cage- When she prays at night she feels like screaming

Uncomfortable (What you Want is Now)- Don't breath the air It's contagious

Your Wurlitzer- The awkward/ The floating/ The silence and the choking/ The mystery/ Urgency/ The passion and the irony

Kamikaze Baby- I never thought it would come to this To this and maybe Suicide by small increments

Honesty- I cannot hide when honesty says I've lied Regretful and wondering why you heal me deep inside

Something of an Optimist- Days just float on by and we're so occupied That we forgot to cry Love shows its face Amazing grace And everything's just fine

Nobody Loves No One- Your eyes spoke words you didn't dare You trusted what betrayed you

Katie Baby- Watch the reruns in my mind

Say No More

Buckets for Bullet Wounds- What's your option? Cold corruption or starvation Buckets for bullet wounds

Fast Enough- Wretched melodies call you from the deep When you should be sleeping And they know, your name

Friday Night- Power's the drug, and pride is the needle And it rips through my skin And goes into my blood stream Oh I feel like laughing, I feel like choking on it

Invisible Hook- Stuffing our ears with luxury Covered our eyes in apathy What can be done with our disease?

Mercedes Baby (alt)- I sold my passion for a dime Unto a thousand hungry eyes I covet kingdoms crumbling

Serial Sleepers- Rise up, O Sons of God And sing the song that hides behind your teeth

Make a Face Like You Mean It (Vampires)- Don't bother to show integrity It never sells on the market

Metaphor in Parentheses- Darkness spreads it lonely wings On the high horizons of our hopes and dreams

You Are the Judas of the Cheerleading Squad- Forged in the fire and the fire it burns in me I've slept in the belly of the beast Now I'll sleep under your wings

Pulling Back the Skin- I'm pulling back the skin here I'm taking out the pins here I'm finding that you're still in here

Suicide Baby- I never thought it would come to this And maybe, it's suicide by small increments

Angels in Top Hats- Hopeless cathedrals, blankets and needles Angels in top hats, cups full of blood

The End is Not the End

If- If you were mine, I'd risk my dignity If only to give love a chance

Lose Control**- I am the answer that you misunderstand I do the evil that an honest man can't I live in shadows that the enemy casts I have no future and I have no past

Leave You Now- And like the river that is winding takes its water to sea The only ending that is fitting is you with me, baby

Dangerous- Hey, hey, this is dangerous I'm writing all the songs that I'll play for us

In the Valley of the Dying Sun- And then I felt it with a chill up my spine There are no words to use that truly describe The glory of the angel or the terror in me

Code Name: Raven- There's no virtue in killing a man Neither is there virtue in being afraid to stand

By Your Side- And like that sand through our hands Go our grandest plans

Journey Into Space (Part One)- Let them come for us Let them have their way with our names they drag through the mud Should they murder us We will live again in the clouds that cover the sun

Sooner or Later*- And with this untapped energy We'll carve our names in the unknown

Baby’s a Red- I will testify I loved you And I'm not ashamed to be your comrade

Drown- Grant us grace to change our minds

Faces- I'm in love but I'm tasteless I only want what's bad for me

Voices- The voices of the innocent are coming to life

Field of Daggers**- Until your rains, oh God Bring forth your colored beauty Confirm the hopes of nations in longing Bring life to tired hopes Buried in fields of flowers

New Moon- I will rise, I will rise when the new moon glows

Ghost- Now I got my freedom But it feels like emptiness

The Young and the Brutal- God give us grace to be brutally faithful And make up for wasted time

Suburba

Relentless- Rebels we become In tracks where young lions run Red beneath the raging sun Like wildfires we burn, we burn

Elevator- Time tears our hope, and the change comes so slowly

Love is for the Middle Class- If all I had was love, would I still be lovely I all I gave was love, would you give up on me

So Far Away- In this heartless world we gotta hold on to hope

God Save the Foolish Kings- We're honest only cuz the truth, it cannot hide

Salt in the Sea- Softened by the salt of the sea I'm alive And you are everything

Independence Day for a Petty Thief- Green lawns, washed in black, all reflecting exploding light

Somebody Knows- And when it blows The wreckage and the wasteland Will be refuge from the quicksand We've been sinking down in

Disappear- We built our perfect dream on shifting sand Scattered in one motion of God's hand

She Mighty Mighty- In darkness, she's a lightening bolt She's so powerful

Constant- All through the night I was falling Straining to hear your voice calling You never gave up, never gave in, never quite gave up on me You are my constant

Burn Me Down- Like a shadow, like the sea mist I cannot grasp it, yet it exists

Galveston- Your laughter kept us warm And we always had enough

Cold Hard Want

A Man Who’s Not Afraid- I see the hands of time race by my tired eyes

Out My Way*- If you add up all the risks not taken they're all misses Think I'd rather live with the knock down drag outs and the stitches

Dance (Blow it All Away)- Maybe we could make another life in the blazing lights Maybe we can rebuild in the rubble of our ruined lives

Remember the Empire- Here they threaten with murder and bribe us with peace Here they treat us like slaves and convince us we're free

We Were Giants- A ray of hope is never tangible, Change is almost imperceptible

The Cop- I love you more Than I love myself And I'm scared to death That you love me less

Comfort Trap- I heard it calling in my sleep at night So I killed my dream with a butcher knife

Touch this Light*- If I could see what you see in me If I could push through the crippling fear Then I would run with the raging wind Then I would live again

Angels of Night- Angels of night Hide in the half light Praying for souls like mine

Stay- Don't tell me you're not safe It sounds like a dare to me

Suspect- Suspect. Something isn't right Their shifting eyes betray their smiles 

I Am a Symbol- So let my life be a song And may that song carry on

The Knock Down Drag Outs

Dead- I bring a knife to a fistfight But lately my baby she bring a gun

Choose Your Blade*- It was a numinous night, wet and cold like the last week of autumn

Your Casualty- You call the spirit inside me Like lightning calls thunder

Love Sick Zombie- Kill me if you must but please don't hurt me (or mess up my hair)

Patient- Be patient with me I'm planting the seed And soon, I will be in bloom, my Love 

Smoke EP**

Bottle Rocket- Baby, who you fooling? I'm kerosene Add a little fire and you're warm with me But get a little careless and I'll burn you down Turn your house to rubble, smoking on the ground

The Worst Kind of Gods- Alone, we are the worst kind of Gods Slave to a selfish heart That always wants

Wake up Screaming- I break down in the chapel When only stain glass saints can hear The prayers I seldom offer Through cold and heavy tears

A Fire Only We Know- Is a bravery inside me Still clinging to my bones Like smoke from a fire only we know

Satisfied- I've come to terms with the man that I made up And the one I really am

Infinite- Even though it's gone it still lives on If only as a distant echo Bouncing off the metal of years gone by

Colors

This City is a Cage- And like a shooting star Our brightest light is in the part so close to burning up

Colors Run- But I'm a long way from going the distance Feels more like dying by inches All the wishes, and the misses The poverty of indifference

Pioneer- But the hunger in our belly makes us hard and lean Cut our way through the world with a primal scream

Rat- These shadow streets cast shadows of doubt

We Make Our Stars*- We can't change the color of the sky But we can rage against the night

Feel*- This ghetto's my cathedral This gun my Eucharist

God- But if God is a hard man, why am I still alive?

In the End- Like dreamers do, we'll dangle our feet off the edge

Crash- The love you're for is a settled score And that's why I can't love you anymore

Matador*- You pose as a king with a city to rule But you were never a lion You were always a bull

Shots Fired- Colors run deep in the city Like the color of blood On the concrete

Get Away- On a streetlight fading out I make a wish

Colors Die Out- Sometimes I dream about the stars And think it's really not so dark

[realignbyredvox]

Please talk a bit about what kind of music you like. Favorite genres, bands, artists? Do you play any instruments?

oh lord this is the rabbit hole. alright. I'm not good at music unless you count belting house of the rising sun in the shower and never learned to read it or play an instrument. But in general I like indie/alt rock (whatever the fuck that means), usually with an electronic/psychedelic rock influence. definitely have some favorite tracks that don't fit that at all (looking at you kesha singles) but my faves all fall in there somewhere.

my favorite bands/artists rn in order of how long they've been favorites are jack white, phantogram, and red vox. I've been in love with jack and garage rock since I was little and listened to white stripes and black keys albums on repeat... i got special permission from my parents to use our iPad and stream a jack white concert on spotify late at night when I was young... watched him launch his stupid amazing record player into space during a 3 hour car ride... I love this man ok. His new shit is so weird and it's great listen to lazaretto and boarding house reach esp ice station zebra and lazaretto

phantogram is a somewhat newer obsession, I got to see them in concert this summer which was amazing. I've liked them for a couple years now. really amazing duo, super cool electronic rock sound with some pop elements. I hold their older stuff close to my heart and the new singles out are fantastic too and I'm super excited to see what they do next. ik some older fans don't love the new sound but like. idk. I think esp considering what they've been through recently the shift makes sense and I really like it tbh. just compare the feel of eyelid movies to three (particularly answer) to into happiness. you can feel it. anyways huge fave and they always seem to come out with something new exactly when I need it. I'd check out when I'm small, mister impossible, fall in love, or any of the three A-sides (esp same old blues and you don't get me high anymore) if you're interested.

I got into red vox over the summer. I've watched vinny stream for a really long time and always meant to look into his music and. Well. Finally did. I listened to into the garden and then all of their first album and then all of everything. I like a lot of the bands that influence him, I grew up on classic rock and like some of the newer stuff like tame impala. hes also just a super cool guy lmao. Good intro tracks would probably be into the garden, atom bomb, job in the city, cemetery window, and back to school.

some other bands I really like but don't know as much about are joywave (electronic/indie rock, try facility, travelling at the speed of light, destruction, or anything off content), son lux (wikipedia says they're considered experimental lmao. They sound like the most amazing movie/TV show soundtrack you've ever heard. really interesting mix of instruments, vocals are beautiful and almost feel hymnlike at times. read about and try remedy and you'll see what I mean), sir sly (rock, psychedelic, they do some cool things with sampling. try basically anything off don't you worry honey, gold, or too far gone)

notable mentions include idk how, LCD soundsystem, the neighbourhood, the strokes, elo, the mountain goats, lorde, and yeah yeah yeahs

[trixcuomo]

The Kaja-Cola Flava Girls Reunite

((Welcome to my very fangirl headcanon for Trixany and my femme alts. Something cute, needlessly complex, and over-the-top for you to enjoy <3...))

Daily Mail Org: Zug zug folks, here we have it! Hot off the presses... the Kaja-Cola’s premier girl-band that helped spread the message of this exceptional Goblin party drink beyond Kezan, beyond Goblin lands, and tear into new world markets... And I mean literally, last week. They almost danced a man to death on the Stormwind tram in order to sell him Kaja-Cola... They’re back! In The Daily Mail Org studio today, we have all six of the original Flava Girls. Well, not so original--the newest addition, lucky lady number seven, is a beautiful Nightborne goddess.

Arcana Mama: Haha--yes, Arcana Mama. That would be me.

Daily Mail Org: Wow, she even has a sweet speaking voice.

Flava Girls: *all giggle and cheer*

Daily Mail Org: This is amazing. Your old fans, especially the Trixany Cuomo fangirls and fanboys out there, have to be thrilled. Today, the Flava Girls are officially no longer a throw-back.

Trixany: That sounds a little insulting, you know. We’re just grown--we’re all full-grown ladies! *laughs* We know what we want and we’re not taking any prisoners this time. Right, ladies?

Flava Girls: *wild cheers, wolf-whistle*

Daily Mail Org: Oh, of course! That’s what I meant. And Trixany has been the lead singer. It’s her successful parody career that ignited the spark for the Flava Girls to come back, am I right? You wanna talk about that, Trixany?

Trixany: Well, it’s no secret that the band sort of went its own way when I broke out. I wanted to go solo, see what I could do. But the girls were always there for me, we kept in touch...

Daily Mail Org: Uh, really? You destroyed their careers single-handed and we’re supposed to believe you were having wine-and-cheese nights, holding hands, crying on each other’s shoulders?

Mega Meghan Mango: *husky Tauren voice* Spiritually, we were always connected. Even when we weren’t talking to each other, we were attuned to what was going on in each other’s lives. The band wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t get on the scrying orb one time and tell Trixany, “Look. I can see what that rivalry with Haris Pilton is doing to you. I can see it crushing your soul, Trix. This isn’t you.”

Trixany: Oh my gods, she’s so right. I can’t believe I forgot about that! Now I remember, that was Meghan and Jojo, right? Where’s Mojo Jojo? Why are you sitting way back there, girl? Come on, scoot up so they can see you.

From left to right: Mojo Jojo (Troll), Shuga Slam (Orc), Fiesta LimeTrixany (Blood Elf), Cocoa Crush (Goblin), Mega Meghan Mango (Tauren).

Mojo Jojo: *chill Troll voice* Ya, ya, mon. Dat was me and Meghan. I asked miss Trixany-mon, ‘What joo gonna do about dat nasty richmon Haris? Dis needs to stop right hea, right now.”

Trixany: And Jojo, you said something about a loa... By the Sunwell, I can’t remember that part exactly, it was good too--

Org Daily Mail: Did Mojo Jojo try to sign you up with Bwonsamdi, Trixany? That sounds more like a career-ending move to me.

Mojo Jojo: *cackles wildly*

Trixany: That’s not at all what she did--

Mojo Jojo: No, no. I tol’ her that she betta make a bargain with Kimbul quick so the tiga loa can tear dat witch up for spreadin’ dose rumors.

Arcana Mama: Oh my word... No she didn’t!

Shuga Slam: *orcish accent* Yes, she did. She did it for the Horde!

Trixany: Hahaha...

Cocoa Crush: *goblin siprano* Yeah, that’s totally something Trix would do anyway on her own. If not Kimbul, then she would have paid the Goblin mob or something--

Trixany: Oh my Garrosh--Don’t say that out loud!

Org Daily Mail: Wait, did she? What’s that sly smile, Trixany?

Trixany: Okay, so I did sign on with Kimbul for a while during BFA--um, didn’t everyone?--and maybe Haris Pilton’s career did tank for a while. But was it a coincidence? You decide. Remember when she fell off the stage during that Consortium fashion show last spring? *shrugs* I don’t know if I believe in the loa stuff. As a Blood Elf, I guess it’s probably against my brand--

Mojo Jojo: Ya, I don’ tink you should claim dat.

Trixany: ...But at least now Haris does. She’s a devout believer in Kimbul. I hear she’s sworn never to go to Zuldazar, for fear of him.

Org Daily Mail: ...Ouch. But Trix, can you finish up the story for us? What happened to make you go to the Kaja-Cola Company and get the band back together?

Cocoa Crush: No, I should tell this part. Trixany wasn’t actually thea.

Trixany: *frowns, but tries not to say anything*

Org Daily Mail: What’s this? More sibling drama!

Cocoa Crush: I told the Kaja-Cola Company that people need thoughtless entertainment these days. Tha kinda fluffy, pathetic, ‘I’m dancing in a tube-top, look at me’ stuff that only my big step-sista Trixany could provide. And they agreed with me. Let’s not lie, I’m the brains hea. The fourth war was hard on everyone, and it was about the only way the company could get people to start drinking Kaja-Cola again.

Trixany: ...Yes.

Org Daily Mail: Trixany? Is that all you have to say?

Trixany: Legally, yes. That’s how it happened. Except for that tube-top jab my sis squeezed in there--

Coca Crush: After you drunk butt-dialed the Kaja-Cola Company for the last time, you betta be lucky I’m still even speakin’ to ya. I’m always cleaning up my step-sister’s drama. Ironic, too. They were getting ready to call Horde Records and have them drop her butt!

Shuga Slam: Ouch. Sounds like it’s always lok’tar ogar at the Cuomo house.

Trixany: Grr...

Cocoa Crush: But! I also saved my step-sista’s career. And now I’m officially the underwriter, so I’ll get the song credits I was supposed to be getting this whole time.

Cocoa Crush (Troll), Arcana Mama (Nightborne), Fiesta Lime Trixany (Blood Elf), Shuga Slam (Orc), Mega Meghan Mango (Tauren)

Black Cherry Dahlia: *smokey Forsaken voice* Nobody has asked about me yet. Or why I’m always getting cut off in all the publicity photos!

*girls screaming, then the male Orc interviewing starts yelling too*

Shuga Slam: Actually, why am I screaming? Me and my fangs get cut off on the other side of the photo if it’s not spooky Dahli getting cropped out.

Cocoa Crush: Eh, blame the KCC. They mix it up dependin’ on tha demographic they’re selling Kaja-Cola to.

Org Daily Mail: Blood and thunder! Black Cherry Dahlia? You’re a damned scary dame. I’m even impressed! How’d you even get into the studio? You weren’t here before? I could swear it--

Black Cherry Dahlia: I’m more than ready to spread Kaja-Cola products through Forsaken lands like the mighty Plague we all know and love.

Meghan Mega Mango: Do we... Does anyone love the Plague? Officially?

Mojo Jojo: You gotta take dat kinda stuff up with Bwonsamdi, dat not be in my contract, Undead-mon.

Shuga Slam: I’m not commenting, either. I’m Frostwolf Clan by birth, and I don’t need that kind of drama following me around on the Orc social media streams. If Eitrigg or Thrall unfriends me, I’m dead. Black Cherry, will you tone it down! It was bad enough when Sylvanas burned that tree. Don’t go burning our careers down! Again!

Org Daily Mail: One last thing. My producer is telling me now that you all have secret identities when you’re not out saving the world with your music. Care to go into detail?

Trixany: Other way around. We’re already strong fighters for the Horde. Saving lives, our lands, our people--that’s a daily thing. Our real names--I guess except for mine I suppose--those are the secret. But everyone knows our stage names.

Org Daily Mail: That doesn’t make any sense. Here ya go, while we try to figure this one out... We’re going to play some more Flava Girls footage in the background for the people streaming at home on their scrying orbs.

Trixany: Yes it does so make sense! It’s like... Jem and the Holograms but it’s flipped around. They were a band but nobody knew they were actually running around helping people, right?

Cocoa Crush: I told Trixany not to bingewatch that Jem show while she was drinkin’. *sigh*

Org Daily Mail: I’m pretty sure it’s the exact same thing, NOT flipped. You’re musicians, but you also have secret identities for when you’re fighting your enemies. This whole time, I never called any of you by your real names.

Trixany: Anyway, come see us perform. And if any of you fans out there recognize one of us in real life too, please don’t out us! We need to keep our true stage identities secret in order to play the happy, sassy music that we do.

Org Daily Mail: I’m still confused.

Arcana Mama: Yes, I think Trixany just really wants the ‘magical girl’ element as part of our aesthetic. It’s okay.

Trixany: There are wants and needs, Arcana. ‘Magical girl’ is a need for me.

Org Daily Mail: Alright! Well, thanks for coming into the studio, ladies. We look forward to seeing your heavily synchronized dances and auto-tuned voices wherever the Horde needs joy. Can you sing a little something for us before you go? Or, does that need to go through rehearsals and a pre-recorded lip-synching session first?

Black Cherry Dahlia: We’d better do it. This grimy Orc has been insulting us the entire time, ladies. I think he needs correcting. *cracks knuckles, neck super loudly*

Flava girls: *Trixany counts out a beat first, then they all hold hands and harmonize* Nobody loves Azeroth better I'mma stick with Malfurion forever Nobody gonna take Azzy higher That's why you're my Shan'dooo Only Malfy appreciates her Forget Tyrande--my archdruid baby! Nobody ever healed Azeroth this way No Shan'don't. He's my Shan'dooo!**

Org Daily Mail: LOKTAR!! Wow, that’s... all kinds of meta and complicated, yet LIT! It’s even cross-faction. I love it!! Tyrande won’t--but hey! Let’s hear it for the Kaja-Cola Flava Girls, everybody!

*The girls stand, still holding hands, and they curtsey beautifully. Then tall Meghan suddenly picks up a squealing Trixany. The other girls cheer and shake Kaja-Cola bottles. They spray a rainbow of tropical soda on everything*

All the Flava Girls: Arcana Mama (Nightborne), Mojo Jojo (Troll), Cocoa Crush (Goblin), Fiesta Lime Trixany (Blood Elf), Mega Meghan Mango (Tauren), Shuga Slam (Orc), Black Cherry Dahlia (Forsaken)

((**Parody song is Shan’dooo by Trixany @trixcuomo​))

[dilettantereviews]

Due to some personal circumstances, finishing this list took longer than I’m proud of, but I hope it’s worth it.

Isolation by Kali Uchis- This was a hard album to write for, not because of the quality (obviously), but because it’s so all over the place and hard to classify. I first paid attention to her through an ONTD original about pop stars with personas, then I thought of her as an indie pop girl, and her collaborations with rap and Latin artists make me compare her to women in R&B or urban music as well. But she’s just Kali. People always talk about “it took Ms.Nancy 8 years for her debut but it’s iconic!!” but for Kali I definitely feel it. The psychedelic baroque intro alone lets you know that you’re about you go on a journey of an album. Songs like Miami, Tomorrow, and Your Teeth, My Neck (and I guess Just a Stranger) all talk about the uncomfortable intersection between wealth and desire, while songs like Dead to Me (lol) give some brevity and energy to this album. For critics who think she can’t sing, Killer has a great Winehouse-esque performance. The album cover looks like a Prince Protege vanity set fantasy painting.

Joyride by Tinashe- Tinashe had a weird 2017, with Flame flopping, Light Up the Sky dropping, and a bizarre Taco Tuesday outing (why?!?! They said it was a networking event, but for who? The girl has more collaborations than all the different companies Pepsi distributes for), but her 2018 was better. We got a random HQ picture that turned out to be the first cover for a tringle that lead to Joyride. She answered many questions like yes, she did need to use legal options to release Joyride, and no, she didn’t like Flame. She release a great pop album that is a little Frankensteined together but you can still use all the songs. Although things seem murky now, I feel that Tinashe will keep giving us great, unique music. Personal favorites include No Drama, Faded Love, No Contest, and Ooh La La.

Caution by Mariah Carey- I keep seeing people mention that this is their first Mariah album, which is appropriate, because this feels like a new beginning for her. It’s my first Mariah album too, but I’ve seen one Popjustice member say that this is her only album where she mainly sings in a lower register and where the background instrumentals are darker electronics. I’ve heard that Me.. I am Mariah at least tried out new things, but this incorporated everything successfully. I’ve never really listened to Mariah before because I just figured it would be mostly ballads and midtempos, but this album kept things unique. Highlights include GTFO, A No No, Giving Me Life, and Portrait. This album is the sonic equivalent of putting your favorite Bath and Body Works moisturizer on, making a warm drink, and hiding under a weighted blanket, and who doesn’t want that in a year like this?

Take Me to the Disco by Meg Myers- People say that there are too many meaningless buzzwords (true) but I don’t think alt vs indie rock is one of those. Indie is generally minimal and guitar based but alt is left of the middle rock and expansive. Meg went for category 2. Following her great debut album from 2015, she went for a bigger, better, and darker sound this time. It reminds me of Tori (Tear Me to Pieces and Jealous Sea sound very Choirgirl), PJ, Trent, and the Smashing Pumpkins. Take Me to the Disco is a nice ballad that starts out the album, which doesn’t prepare you at all for Numb, the following track. Done and Funeral are also strong. Listen if you’re tired of slackers in music.

Childqueen by Kadhja Bonet- If music indicates mood, I don’t know what Spotify premium subscribing, Allmusic reading, time travelling aliens would know about 2018. Sure, there were some political albums, but I feel like the pace of crappy events was faster than (High quality) political music. Even on a personal level, 2018 wasn’t ridiculously iconic or anything for me, and I was still petty and had grudges to work on. That being said, I have no clue how psychedelic music became big for me this year. We had Moodoid, Melody’s Echo Chamber, The Internet (sort of), and Dita Von Teese. But my favorite is perhaps Kadhja Bonet, whose theatrical sounds are like the score to an old Disney movie. Mother, …, and Second Wind are great. Bonus EP was released this fall.

so sad, so sexy by Lykke Li- I haven’t really listened to Lykke before, so I figured her pop reinvention was a good time to get into her. This album reminds me of Nelly Furtado for indie songwriting but with hooks. Although sometimes the trap parts are a little awkward (use vaporwave instead!), this was a good reinvention. My favorites include Two Nights featuring Amine (he is NOT a rent a rapper!), Jaguars in the Air (you and me we’re psychedelic!), and of course, sex money feelings die. I would love a Jessy Lanza remix album commissioned.

Silk Canvas by Vanjess- Everyone loves whisper registers and high pitched whisper singing in R&B (Diana Ross, Janet, Aaliyah, Ciara, Cassie, Tinashe) but what I really love is a deep voice (or at least one that sounds a little raspy). Vanjess joins Her, Total, and T Boz and even The Weeknd in the deep vocals crowd. Don’t mark these Nigerian princesses as spam, just give them a stream, no bank accounts required. I like that they have a better understanding of making a cohesive album with different genres and still staying in a certain vibe instead of doing the same song 12 times. Even their remix EP gets that. Control Me and Addicted, the big singles from this album, are good symbols for their moody R&B sound but they have more than that. Touch the Floor is more uptempo in the vein of Kaytranada, as are the excellent Through Enough and Another Love. My Love reminds me of Aaliyah’s One in a Million. The One picks up where the 80’s revival trend left off, but improves on the synth funk sound. Even Cool Off the Rain, a 2 minute interlude, is worth listening to.

7 by Beach House- I don’t know what made this album click with me. This is my 4th album for Beach House, so I thought I just wouldn’t get them by now, I listen to dream pop and shoegaze enough where I thought I’d like any vibey music. This album didn’t reinvent the wheel but it has warmth to it, without losing their signature ‘when your arm has pins and needles and you need to wiggle yourself to a healthy blood circulation again’ sound. Favorites include Lemon Glow, Black Car, Dark Spring, and Girl of the Year. I also recommend Wax idols and Pinkshinyultrablast if you’re looking for more shoegaze..

Dita Von Teese by Dita Von Teese- This was always going to be a niche passion project by a burlesque artist, so I don’t think it was ever going to set the charts on fire, but not even the internet cared about this? If you miss Lana’s old Hollywood glamour, you should check out this album. It mixes 60’s psychedelics with electronic music to create a perfect loungy sound. I’m not saying I’m those “I miss 2012 Lana!!” but I stuck with her through her Old Hollywood Jackie Kennedy Born to Die phase, her 60’s Manson Girl Ultraviolence cult phase, her 50’s (?) maps to the stars Honeymoon, and 70’s singer songwriter Lust for Life phase, so I was excited to see what other incarnations we would get. Would we get a full on spaced out culty version of Honeymoon? An 80’s Midwest goth album? A late 90’s vaporwave mixtape? Okay, most of these are just words thrown together that nobody would want, but Dita’s album had the concept and the execution there, all it needed was the audience. The French songs have a certain sadness in them. I like Bird of Prey and Dangerous Guy as well, but the whole album is well produced and beautiful sounding, so you should listen to it if you just want some easy listening that’s riskier than most of pop and alternative’s current artists.

Black Panther- Yes, this should count as an album. I’ve seen people treat The Hunger Games soundtracks (yes, those movies didn’t spontaneously appear on TNT one day) as real albums and stan Lorde’s vision for it. I’ve seen people stan the soundtrack for A Star is Born, like it’s a real Lady Gaga album, but Black Panther is where y’all draw the line? Okay. Aside from the breakout single, you get a good vocal performance from SZA, a top tier Jorja Smith song, the best flute performance of 2018, and the downtemp Seasons. That a random soundtrack can have that much cohesion is good for Kendrick Lamar but bad for other artists.

[bthenoise]

Q&A: Andrew McMahon Discusses Recent Drive-In Shows, 15 Years Of ‘Everything In Transit’ And More

Photo by Joe Ortega

What’s there to say about Andrew McMahon that hasn’t already been said? With not one, not two but three successful musical acts under his belt, the man is a musical phenom. Not to mention, with the help of his Dear Jack Foundation -- which raises money for kids and young adults with cancer -- McMahon is also quite the philanthropist as well.

Now, currently stuck in the middle of a messy global shut down, what’s a guy like McMahon supposed to do? Well, how about throw an intimate three night drive-in concert experience to not only help people forget about the world’s problems but also raise money for a good cause.

Taking place in Southern California, McMahon and his bandmates put together three socially distant nights fans will never forget as they performed Jack’s Mannequin’s beloved Everything In Transit in full as well as favorites from both Something Corporate and Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness.

Exploring what it was like to play a rare drive-in concert during unprecedented times while also celebrating 15 years of his alt-indie breakout LP, we spoke with McMahon to get his thoughts on the weekend that was. 

To see what the talented singer-songwriter had to say and check out some photos from the show by Noise contributor Moe Horta, be sure to look below. Afterward, for more from McMahon (including his new single “Get On My Wave”) head here.   

Looking at your Instagram it appears you’re in the desert getting some well deserved rest after a long weekend. Were you pretty burnt out after those three shows? And were you even planning on doing three?

Andrew McMahon: I mean, I wouldn't say I'm burnt out. What I will say is that just because of the nature of what we were trying to accomplish -- and obviously, I feel like the stakes were much higher in the sense that there are really so few outlets for entertainers to entertain and for people to be entertained -- I think the priorities of making sure we were doing it in a way that was safe for the fans, the band and crew and a lot of what we were deploying at the time was new technology. I think, if anything else, it was just a lot of added stress. I tend to stress out and get nervous about all shows whether they're the most turnkey [shows] I've done a million times before. So I think the extra layers of like sort of “reappearing” in society in such a public way after kind of being hermetically sealed and quarantined [laughs] it was a lot but it ended up being so much fun and really cathartic. And yeah, we got to add the third show because the first two sold out so quickly and we added the live stream because we really wanted other people to be able to participate. It was a whirlwind to say the least but a lot of fun.

Is it interesting to think, looking back on this years from now, you were one of the first artists to do this drive-in concert idea? It’s almost historic in a way.

I mean, in all honesty, we saw this going on in a couple of countries in Europe currently in the pandemic that had been hit first. So you know, for me, sure there's some strategic benefit to being one of the first to market with something like this. I think it's exciting to be a part of something new and trying to bring something to people who have been missing the live experience. But I mean, I think the bigger thing for me and for all of us involved was like, one, this is what we do. We want to entertain people. And for the promoter who we did this with, they have these venues and have these spaces that aren’t being used. And I think the coolest thing about it was just that we really approached it as a family or community event. It wasn't like a typical concert where, you know, even going into it, it didn't look like it was going to make much money at all because of how expensive it was to put it together. But everybody sort of did it because we wanted to be a part of something unique and create some weird little artifact of this time that says, “Hey, we still kind of stepped up and tried to do our best version of what we could do in bringing entertainment.”

Compared to all the other shows you’ve played in your career, which surely there’s probably been some unique ones, how did this feel?

Look, I'll say this: You sort of grade it on a curve, right? I mean, because we've all been without proper platforms to do shows it's obviously different looking out at the massively spaced out parking lot and people -- we were fortunate with our drive-in, we really decided and committed going forward we won't do a drive-in where it isn't built so that people can safely social distance and watch outside of their cars because I think the model where you put people inside a car is pretty rough and they can't get out. So we did at least have the benefit of seeing faces in their own little socially distant car parking spaces next to the car. We did get that connection with fans. I'd say from the first show we did to the third show, we were constantly [updating things] that by the second night we added more speakers throughout the parking lots. We felt like we wanted to make sure that if people for some reason didn't have their FM radios turned on, which is where most of the signal from the show came from, that there was still a good mix coming their way. And I'd say by the third night that we played, it actually felt really blissful and beautiful.

During the show, you mentioned you had your high school prom right around the corner of the venue. As if things weren’t surreal enough considering the circumstances, what was it like feeling that experience as well? Must have been pretty full-circle in a way.

So the building, The Grove, is effectively the venue we played -- the parking lot of The Grove. And yeah, The Grove used to be called Tinsel Town and it was home to my senior prom. So you know, when we were trying to figure out how to safely sort of rehearse with the band -- we all got tested, then we all rehearsed on the stage at The Grove. So we did all of our prep for the show on the theater where I danced with my prom date. That for me, just as a side note, I was able to do something in the community where I was raised and saw familiar faces. And also to know that for a solid few weeks we were able to employ a lot of people in the town from the town where I grew up, it felt like a big win all around and something that we're all really proud of.

Speaking of where you grew up, were drive-in movies something you experienced a lot as a kid? For some people, it seems like the concept of going to a drive-in movie theater is new to them.

I mean, I've never been to a drive-in in my whole life. I think I've passed a few. I'm a big fan of cross-country road trips so I've done a bunch of those and I always found it nostalgic and wild when you see these sort of ramshackle drive-in movie theaters that don't really have movies anymore but still have kind of beat-up screens out there. So I mean, I feel like it's an interesting symbol to re-enter the vernacular of our culture that all of a sudden this dying method of entertainment is actually one of the few safe ways where people can gather right now. I think it's a little ironic that it happens to be in a format that has been long considered obsolete.

Yeah, it's interesting that in the time with so much technology, something that's been around forever and is pretty outdated is what’s helping save the music industry.

You know, not to get too philosophical about it in the pandemic, but I think there has been a certain level of full-circle just as far as people needing to take the time to reconnect with family and slow down a little bit. Because obviously, you can't be in an office for a million hours a day. There's restrictions on work and whatnot. I do think there's, at least for me and my family, an education in like, “Ah, maybe we can live a little simpler.” You know, maybe we don't need to be out at restaurants all the time. I appreciate the fact that at some point we'll be able to start doing that again but I think a lot of our culture is coming full-circle and asking some questions about how we spend our time and how we will spend our time when this is over.

Talking more about your life feeling a little full-circle, during these shows you celebrated 15 years of Everything In Transit. What was it like being where we are in the world in 2020 to go back to 2005 and process some of those songs again?

It's wild. You know, life couldn't be in some degree more different than it is. I mean, the sort of subject of that record was my wife, who at the time, we were separated. ... Transit especially, I've always held in this strange place within my own personal history. It really is, in so many ways, a stamp in the middle of a road where I could have gone left or I could have gone right. You know, all of a sudden, it's like here I am broken up and I'm sick then my wife and I are together and my life goes into a completely different direction. So when I sing those songs, it's almost like revisiting [this moment] standing somewhere in the middle of a fork in the road where you're sort of forced to go one direction and you thought you were going to go another.

2005 was obviously a pretty impactful year for you for a lot of different reasons. Is it hard or a little weird to celebrate a record that came out the same year you got your cancer diagnosis? 

You know, to say there isn't some level of complexity obviously would be a lie. It's interesting for me. Everything In Transit, even though it got really wrapped up in my illness and there seems to be some sort of almost prophetic words written throughout it about hospitals and doctors and things, [those were written] long before I was even living in a hospital dealing with that stuff. I also really look at that record and sort of the naivety and the hope that's written into it. The fact that it really was the thing I was most motivated to, not only to get heard, but to be able to play live at some point, I feel a bit of a debt of gratitude to that album for me getting better quickly because it was really so much at the heart of my survival. It's like, “I love this record so much, I want people to hear it” so I think I see that side of it a lot more. I [also] see the love story in it more than anything because it really is this moment that all of us go though as people when we end up really falling in love with someone. You know, sometimes you wonder if it's too good to be true and then blow it up to see if you're right. In my case, whatever happened to me put me back on the right road and I ended up getting married with the girl who I wrote that record about. So I think I see those parts more than the cancer or the complications that followed.

Talking about the performance of the record, which songs were most excited to bring back into the setlist again?

Oh man. You know, even when Transit was out, we really didn't play “Into the Airwaves” a lot. If you actually got the original version of the record, “Airwaves” was a bonus track back when you could have a bonus track, you know what I mean? Like, we just tagged it on to the end of the record. If you were willing to listen for a minute, then that song would play. And I kind of treated it that way because it felt like an epilogue more than a part of the body of the main story. So we sort of treated it like that live. [During the drive-in shows] we did a version of it that was just like an acoustic rendition of the song. And to me, that ended up being this really beautiful moment that we hadn't put a ton of thought into but we're just like, “Let's do one of these tunes a little bit different than you would hear it on the album” and it became one of my favorite parts of all three nights. And the words, “don't panic, there's simply no need, it's going to be a hard day” I think hit me a little bit harder and perhaps the audience a little bit harder too just knowing that we are in a moment where it's pretty easy to let the fear take the wheel in this particular moment in time.

That’s very true. Speaking of that rendition, was it challenging to put together considering you probably had pretty limited practice time?

Well, I mean, a couple things to that: One, when we agreed to do the show, we made it imperative that all of us would be tested before we got on stage together and that we would all quarantine during the process of putting the shows on. So we were still more or less masked when we weren't singing but we all knew we were safe. So that was helpful but we didn't truly have a ton of time to practice. I think in all, the whole band really only had four days to pull together the record and we also had Morgan who was a new addition learning all of those songs to play for the first time at that show [laughs]. My second point being that I'm really blessed to have some very incredible musicians that I've worked with on and off for decades now. And you know, if I were to say let's work on an acoustic version of this song, Bobby would be sending me guitar riffs and things that he thinks would work before we even got to practice and we would just sit down and feel it out. I think that was what was fun about what I call the “ramble song” during the set. We also did another version of “Love and Great Buildings” on a couple of the show nights and with both of those, I think it turned out really cool. They were just meant to be like, “Hey, pick up your guitar and go with the changes. Let's see how it works.” And it turned out really cool I thought.

Yeah, it came out great and the fans definitely enjoyed it too. It is crazy to think that this show was such a unique moment in time that might not ever happen again?

Yeah I mean, that's how we intended it. You know, I think when we started working on the show as a concept is was like, “We're gonna do this thing, and there's a number of reasons to do it, but the number one reason was let's create a hopeful, positive memory in the middle of a time where people are feeling like they're missing out on a lot and things are a little out of control.  Let's give people some control, give them a place to be with other people that's safe and just smile and hang out.” There hasn't been a lot of that in my life. You know, I get that with my family but I'm not really in a position to go sit anywhere with 2000 people and be a part of a common experience. I felt like that was really, if anything, the impetus of doing this whole thing. Just let's give a lot of people a place to be safe.

Adding to that hopeful and positive note, portions of the tickets sold went to the Dear Jack Foundation which you guys raised a lot of money for. How’d it feel knowing you’re not only giving your fans some joy but also helping the foundation as well?

Yeah, I'll be perfectly honest: Looking around at what's going on with the economics of people, nonprofits are getting hit really hard right now. It's a very tough time to raise money because I think, rightfully so, everybody's holding on to their money waiting to see how long they're gonna have to save to get through this thing. So we knew really early on that there would be a component of giving back to the charity via ticket sales and the live stream. What I think blew us away was that we didn't really anticipate the live stream being as big of a thing as it was. We were like, “Oh yeah, maybe a thousand people will watch.” [Instead], thousands of people showed up for the live stream and that generated a really good amount for Dear Jack. And I'm going to kind of keep doing a version of that throughout the year. Like we're launching the 250k Challenge, which is like our big fan-centric fundraiser we do every year in the fall, so that's gonna launch [in August]. We're gonna do some fundraising over Instagram Live and have donate shows and things like that. You know, anything I can do to keep the lights on for Dear Jack is important in terms of the work we're doing there and the work that still needs to be done regardless of what's going on.

That's really awesome. Obviously, no one really knows what the future holds but in terms of your music, do you think the pandemic will impact some of the songs you're writing?

It's hard to say. I'll be honest: Since this pandemic began, I've actually been working on a book project primarily. So most of the day, I spend writing on a laptop just writing words. And I had written tons [of music] leading up to the pandemic that I was so excited about and doing a lot of work with an artist named King Tuff who's just incredible. He's like this rock artist -- really talented, great songwriter -- and we're kind of this weird mismatched pair as far as if you put us on paper. You'd be like, “I'm not sure if this is a record I'd pick up.” But the songs we were writing together before the pandemic, I was so excited by. It just felt really fresh. Hysterically, it felt, if anything, more like a great summer record. It's not that the lyrics aren't very literary or that they're not deep, but there's just a sound to it that was a little bit effortless. In a way, I think if those songs were released during this pandemic, they would almost be released more as an antidote to it rather than a reflection specifically of what it feels like. Cause I'm not writing a lot of music [right now]. I'm writing words. I'm writing this book and then I'm revisiting the songs that I wrote that are supposed to come out but haven't yet [laughs]. It'll be interesting but I certainly imagine once I actually get down behind my piano and start writing songs, it's possible that [writing about] the effects of what we're all going through would only be natural. But at the same time, I've also found when, at least the times when things feel hopeless, I end up latching on to the concept of hope and what is the other side of that coin to keep me out of it. Rather than going dark and deep into it and not giving myself the good medicine that I could be getting out of a song.

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A post shared by Andrew McMahon (@amnthewilderness) on Jul 22, 2020 at 1:25pm PDT

[roseymoseyberry]

Knocked Out (10/?)

Guess who’s finally back with a brand new track chapter!

We’re approaching the end now, folks. Unless something goes horribly wrong, the next chapter should be the last one. Soon all miscommunications will be discussed and decisions made!

Thank you all so much for your comments and likes and reblogs and just. All your support and patience. You’re the fucking best.

Title: Knocked Out

Series: Transformers: Prime with the constructicons shoved right in there, and just a sprinkle of ideas pulled from tfidw

Pairing/Characters: Breakdown/Knockout, joined by Bulkhead and the Constructicons

Warnings: Robot injuries (nothing super gory), sexual jokes, language barriers, and fluff. Oh the fluff. Also slow burn I guess depending on your definition of slow haha.

Fic Summary:

And so there Breakdown found himself, with an injured barbarian in his arms who turned those dazzling crimson optics towards him, and for a split second Breakdown felt as if it was his knees that were injured because boy did they feel weak.

Barbarian AU where the citymech unwittingly does the kidnapping.

Chapter Summary:

Praxis wasn’t the largest city. Praxis wasn’t even the prettiest city.

But what Praxis did have was culture and the shanix to afford it.

|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Chapter 8|Chapter 9|Chaper 10|

Nothing in the universe could have made Breakdown regret kissing Knockout.

However, the mixture of smug and excited expressions on the crew’s faces when Knockout dragged Breakdown back to the stream – “I’m washing you now” he had insisted while interlocking his digits with Breakdown’s and tugging at him – came close.

Knockout didn’t seem to mind one bit that the crew had gathered around the stream edge. In fact, when Bulkhead had greeted them with a teasing “Well hey there you two,” Knockout had grinned back at him while all but shoving Breakdown into the stream.

“Thank you, Bulkhead,” Knockout said with a wink and Breakdown groaned while Bulkhead laughed and slapped him on the back.

“Couldn’t let this idiot keep playing hard to get and torturing you both!”

With a huff, Breakdown sat in the water with his back to the edge and started to wash himself. It was impossible to hold onto any frustration he dragged up though when Knockout asked Scrapper for his coarse scrubber and then got to work on Breakdown’s back and shoulders. So Breakdown just stewed in his flustered embarrassment while avoiding the amused optics of his friends.

But then the constructicons started drying each other off, chatting among themselves as they did, and Bulkhead appeared in front of Breakdown with a rag to help wash off the spots that Breakdown couldn’t see past his chest. Eventually Scavenger started talking to Knockout, asking first if he could help dry him off, and then with that permission given he babbled about how they could get buffed and waxed once in Praxis – “You just seem like a mech who actually cares about his looks, unlike all these cheapskates I’m stuck with. It’s totally worth it. It’s amazing how much it helps with making colors pop. If it can help a big blockhead like me look good then it’ll blow Breakdown fragging processor when he sees you--”

And once everyone was clean and dried off and settling down for an early night, the worst that Breakdown got was the occasional slap on the shoulder and knowing look from the constructicons and the grin that Bulkhead shot him when Knockout flopped into Breakdown’s lap.

It was actually comfortable as the crew casually talked about their plans for the next day. They would arrive at Praxis before midday, so Breakdown could branch off to take Knockout to a doctor – one that Hook recommended readily, though he refused to go with them, simply saying that they had a history – while the rest of them contacted and met with the head of the project. They could settle into their lodgings and explore the site and hopefully give Breakdown plenty of time to figure out what was to be done about Knockout’s leg and when.

By the time they had finished with serious planning and started discussing which bars they should hit up first, Knockout had started to doze where he was tucked under and against Breakdown’s chest, his engine purring happily.

It was nice.

And his crew was nice enough to not comment when Breakdown bent down just enough to press a small kiss to the top of Knockout’s helm, or when Knockout released a small ex-vent and nuzzled closer.

Primus but he hoped he was right and that Knockout wanted to figure out how to make this work.

Praxis wasn’t the largest city – Tarn won that competition due to the sprawling nature of its factories and dilapidated apartment buildings, tied with Vos only because in terms of height nothing could hold a flame to the towering Vosian skyscrapers. Praxis wasn’t even the prettiest city – the constructicons were more than happy to brag about the work they had put into the rightfully named Crystal City.

But what Praxis did have was culture and the shanix to afford it.

It was a busy melting pot of mecha looking to make names for themselves. The road between Praxis and Crystal City was so well worn with scientists coming and going that it had eventually been properly paved and had weekly shuttles going back and forth. Engineers, detailers, inventors, writers, artists – whatever their crafts and dreams, mecha brought them to Praxis looking for their big break in the guise of rich patrons taking interest in their street-side shops or a chance to present their work at The Assembly.

And mecha who had no particular aspirations besides living in a nice city but couldn’t afford Crystal City or Vos flocked to Praxis to reap the beauty and fun those starry-eyed mecha brought to their doorsteps. For that very same reason, tourists were plentiful, which meant traders were constantly traveling through to sell their wares alongside the dreamers.

Breakdown wasn’t sure he really fit in Praxis.

Certainly he wouldn’t have ever been able to afford it if work sites didn’t set up lodging for the crew while they worked. Maybe something small in the outskirts of the city beyond the safety of the walls if he was fast enough to beat out the hordes of mecha looking for that very same thing.

But even so, it was a city for movers and shakers, for creative processors and skilled servos in highly-regarded fields, and the mecha who liked to think they deserved to be around those types and had the shanix to back that belief.

Breakdown was a simple construction mech and he was satisfied with that lot in life. Truthfully he felt more at ease in cities like Tarn where mecha spent their days doing physical labor and their evenings drinking with friends. Even Kaon was fine since Breakdown was a big bot, and Kaon was a city that respected physical strength.

But at least Praxians didn’t look down on Breakdown the way that Crystalians did or Vosians no doubt would. He wasn’t special but he wasn’t scorned. Mecha of all shapes and sizes and alt-modes made their home in Praxis or just travelled through.

It was diverse enough that even Knockout didn’t get too many looks. Certainly there were some – though whether for his looks, the towel around his waist, or his braced leg, it was hard to tell – but nothing rude or looking for answers. If they had thought he was a barbarian, the most they showed was giving a slightly wider berth than usual. Any barbarian walking casually through Praxis would be seen as one of the rare barbarian traders brave enough to do their business with citymecha, meaning they brought goods that were scarce and worth any trouble that might come with them.

All in all, it was ideal for Breakdown that no one paid Knockout much mind since the barbarian’s face was nearly all optics with how wide and bright they were the second they made it through the suburbs and past the gates into the city proper.

Knockout looked torn between sheer curiosity, awe, and terror. Having Breakdown’s large servo intertwined with his while surrounded by Bulkhead and the constructicons kept the terror at bay though, so it only appeared when something particularly large or loud came across their path, and only in the form of Knockout’s armor clamping tight to his frame and his servo squeezing Breakdown’s. As long as Breakdown squeezed back and leaned down to explain in a calm voice, Knockout would ease back into curiosity and awe.

Breakdown was pretty sure Knockout didn’t actually understand any of his explanations, or at least very little. Explaining a pressure washer wasn’t exactly easy. But knowing that Breakdown knew and wasn’t worried about the various wonders of the city was enough to appease the barbarian. After all, Knockout had seen Devastator, massive and terrifying, and realized that Breakdown was right to say the titan wouldn’t hurt him. There was little on Cybertron more terrifying to behold than a gestalt of six combined, so if Knockout could trust Breakdown about Devastator, then anything that Praxis could possibly contain was easy to trust with Breakdown’s word.

Not that the constructicons didn’t also try to get some explanations of their own in. Longhaul and Scavenger were particularly invested in explaining things to Knockout, pointing them out and then arguing with each other about who could do a better charade. Hook tried to get them to cut it out with a couple smacks to their helms while insisting they could wait until after Knockout had common cybertronian installed.

It lasted all of five minutes before Knockout stared with obvious intrigue at a shop model showing off their extravagant buff, detailing, and wax jobs, and the two were back to falling over themselves to explain citymech fashion.

“And what do you two know about being fashionable?” Bonecrusher asked, his tone flat despite the flicker of his visor that gave him away. Mixmaster cackled and even Hook snorted.

Before the two had a chance to defend themselves, Scrapper interrupted, saying, “Alright, enough. This is our street.”

With that, the constructicons swarmed Knockout.

“Sorry we can’t come with, Knockout, but you’ll be fine! All fixed up and good to go before you know it.”

“Doc’s a mean bucket of bolts, but he’s nicer than Hook so you’ll be fine.”

“Frag you. But I’ll admit he’s good, even if he’s a pretentious slagger--”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you? Just cause he knows more than you--”

“Say that again, I dare you--!”

Knockout was already snickering at the antics, though he quieted when Bonecrusher placed a servo on his shoulder.

“Try not to lose ‘im, Knockout,” he said, giving a little squeeze as his helm tilted towards Breakdown. “Cause if you get lost, we’re gonna have to tear up this city looking for ya, understand?”

Breakdown doubted he did, but Knockout still grinned and lifted his servo where it was holding Breakdown’s.

“Breakdown stay with me,” Knockout assured confidently. Bonecrusher nodded and, with one last pat, removed his servo.

Primus, if Bonecrusher was attached, Breakdown could only imagine how bad off the rest of the constructicons were. It would be a bad time all around if Knockout did leave.

When he left.

Primus, Breakdown didn’t even know what to think anymore. So he just shoved those thoughts back and ignored them as he tightened his grip on Knockout’s servo.

Finally the constructicons stepped back and Bulkhead quickly stepped up, grabbing Breakdown’s free servo to shove his shanix chip into it.

“Bulk--!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Bulkhead interrupted, removing his servos instantly and even clasping them behind his back so Breakdown couldn’t hand it back. “I told you before I’ll help out, so don’t be afraid to use some of my shanix, yeah?”

Breakdown huffed, but he closed his digits over it and carefully put it away in his subspace. “Thanks, Bulk.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Then Bulkhead clasped Knockout on the shoulder and said, “I’ll see you later, Knockout, yeah?”

“See you later?”

“Yeah! I’ll see,” he started, pointing at his optics and then down at Knockout, “you later. I—I don’t know how to explain later, but--”

Knockout waved him off though, nodding as he said, “Yes, you see I later.”

“So let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” the doctor said, his optics flicking from Breakdown to Knockout and back. “You saved some barbarians from some other barbarians, this one got his leg slagged, and you decided to pick him up and bring him all the way here because Hook recommended my services.”

Breakdown’s servo fisted in his lap as he nodded awkwardly.

“I mean, I brought him for a doctor in general, but Hook said if it wasn’t gonna be him, it would have to be you.”

The doctor leaned back a bit in his chair, optic ridge raised.

“Did it look like it hurt him to admit it?”

Breakdown had spent enough time around mean slaggers to know the sly gleam in the doctor’s optic, and it actually put him at ease to see. Professionals were intimidating, but mean slaggers were his day-to-day.

“You’d think he was ripping out his own spark, Doc.”

With a short laugh and a wave of his servo, he replied, “That sounds right. And don’t call me Doc – Ratchet will do just fine.” The doctor got to his pedes then and gestured Breakdown and Knockout to follow. “Alright, follow me back into the examine room and I’ll take a look at what we’re working with.”

Knockout stiffened next to Breakdown, though given how uncomfortable he had been since they had entered the clinic, it didn’t make all that much difference. Just enough for Breakdown to notice and pat his arm comfortingly as he asked Ratchet, “Right now? I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to do it today?”

Ratchet snorted as he gave another insistent gesture. “Yes, yes, I know what I said. But inventory can wait and you dragged this mech a long ways to see me. Unless you want to wait until my next free appointment three weeks from now--”

Breakdown nearly choked and stood up quickly. “Nope, right now is great. Come on, Knockout.”

Knockout stood up at Breakdown’s prompting, servo on his forearm, and Breakdown couldn’t help noticing, not for the first time, how cowed the barbarian had been acting since they had entered Praxis. While it was making this all easier, Breakdown still couldn’t say that he really liked it. He’d rather have badly translated arguments with Knockout than to see him just follow along, completely out of his element and overly cautious for it.

It was one thing to have travelled with the crew, but being surrounded by a whole city of mecha that Knockout couldn’t really understand, in language or culture, had to be a lot.

Breakdown paused before giving Ratchet an apologetic grimace as he said, “Actually, could you give us one second?”

Ratchet gave an exasperated ex-vent, but he waved his servo at Breakdown to do whatever he needed to.

Breakdown moved to face Knockout completely, his servos holding Knockout’s upper arms reassuringly. “You doing ok, Knockout?”

The barbarian blinked up at him, and then there it was. The fog of confusion lifted and Knockout rolled his optics as the corners of his lips curled up slightly. “Yes, I doing ok,” Knockout stated, all cool and casual confidence, hip cocking to one side. “Safe with you.”

Breakdown couldn’t help smiling as he said, “Yeah, you’re safe with me. But this is all still pretty intense for you, so I won’t be offended if you’re not doing ok. You can tell me if you’re scared.”

Knockout’s optics dulled for a moment before he shook his helm.

“I doing ok. Not scared,” he insisted with a little indignant scowl now. It didn’t fool Breakdown.

“Sure you aren’t, tough guy,” Breakdown teased, squeezing Knockout’s arms reassuringly. “Do you know why we’re here?”

“Why here?” Knockout clarified, and when Breakdown nodded, Knockout pursed his lips as he dug around his processor. Finally he tipped to one side, looking past Breakdown towards Ratchet. “You’re doctor?”

Ratchet looked startled at being included in the conversation. Or maybe he had already been surprised by their conversation and Breakdown hadn’t noticed since the doctor was behind him. Either way, Ratchet blinked before replying, “Yes, I’m a doctor.”

Knockout looked him up and down, not appearing especially impressed. “You fix my leg?”

Apparently that was enough to snap Ratchet out of his shock as he scowled. “Excuse me?”

“Ok, alright, enough of that!” Breakdown interrupted with a forced chuckle, hoping to defuse the situation. “Yes, Knockout, Ratchet is a very good doctor who is going to fix your leg like I promised. So be nice, ok?”

Knockout stared at him in confusion.

“Nice?”

Ratchet snorted behind Breakdown.

“Maybe you should have started with teaching him that word,” Ratchet said before stepping up next to Breakdown. Without waiting for any sort of retort, he focused on Knockout, saying, “Course, I just assumed you didn’t know any common, so look who’s talking. Let’s try again since we’re off to a bad start. I’m Ratchet.”

Knockout considered him for a long moment before flashing him a purposefully charming smile.

“I’m Knockout,” he replied with a flourish of his servo. “I’m a doctor.”

“You’re—what?”

Breakdown scratched the back of his neck, saying, “His name’s actually Noc--”

“Knockout,” the barbarian corrected.

“—and he’s a barbarian doctor, so, you know.”

Ratchet glanced up at the ceiling with a tired sounding ex-vent.

“He’s going to be a terrible patient.”

Breakdown pulled out what he hoped was an endearing grin as he said, “Well, sure, he’s gonna want you to try to explain what you’re doing, but he already picked up some vocab from Hook so it’ll probably be fine.”

Ratchet didn’t even look, just turned and waved his servo to indicate they follow him as he grumbled about being too nice for his own good.

Breakdown owed Hook endless thanks for patiently teaching Knockout anatomy terms, because despite Ratchet’s dismay, it didn’t take too much time for him to explain what he was doing every step of the way. The doctor flashed a bright light into the wound and with a thin tool indicated each strut, tube, and wire as he talked through what was damaged and how he would repair them.

Or, well, ‘fix’ them. For all that Ratchet had complained, he slipped into simpler vocabulary with ease, reusing the words that Knockout knew over and over so as not to complicate anything.

Which, Primus, even simplified it was complicated for Breakdown to follow. But, at the end, Knockout hemmed and hawed before nodding.

“Yes, you can fix.”

“Glad to know I have your approval,” Ratchet said sarcastically, but he did look relieved as he straightened up. “Alright, I just have to gather some supplies and then we can get started.”

“And you’re gonna implant common, right?”

“You don’t enjoy communicating with a couple dozen words?” With a snort Ratchet continued, “Yes, yes, of course. He’ll be in stasis for the surgery anyway so the datapacket can be downloaded and installed while I work.”

“Great,” Breakdown said, ex-venting with relief. That was going to help address the ever tightening ball his spark was becoming, torn between memories of the stream and how there was no way that Knockout would leave and the simple fact that Knockout had a home and tribe out there waiting for him.

He was so afraid of saying goodbye.

Ratchet paused as he passed Breakdown though, optics focusing on Breakdown’s face.

“Want me to take a look at that for you?”

“Look at wha—oh.” Breakdown reached up to scratch the back of his neck, sheepishly shaking his helm as he remembered the patch over his shattered optic. “Nah, it’s fine. Hook is gonna take care of it for me once he gets a replacement.”

Ratchet’s optics narrowed as grabbed Breakdown by the front of his chest to angle him down and look closer at his good optic.

“I think I have the right type in the back,” Ratchet insisted as he ignored how Breakdown squirmed under his gaze. “If it’s just the optic that’s slagged, I can slip you in after Knockout to replace it. Shouldn’t take very long.”

“That’s really nice of ya to offer, Doc, but uh, I don’t think I can afford that.” When Ratchet’s ridges lifted at that, Breakdown was quick to add, “I have enough for Knockout, so don’t worry ‘bout that! But both of us would probably break the bank so, you know.”

With a curious hum, Ratchet glanced over towards Knockout and then back at Breakdown, optics looking far too knowing for Breakdown’s tastes.

But he let go Breakdown and headed towards the back room.

“Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

And as soon as Ratchet was out of sight, Knockout was reaching out for Breakdown, asking, “Ratchet fix your optic?”

“Nah,” Breakdown said as he walked closer to the examination table Knockout was sat on. Knockout was quick to grab his servo. “I told you I was gonna bring you to see a doctor who could fix your leg, and I’m gonna keep that promise. You get fixed first. Hook can always fix my optic later.”

Knockout considered him, his other servo reaching up to cup the side of Breakdown’s helm, thumb carefully tracing the edges of the patch.

“Hook fix you soon?”

“Dunno. I mean – I don’t know, but hopefully it will be soon.”

Knockout gave him a disapproving look.

“Will be soon,” he insisted, his servo squeezing Breakdown’s. And, despite himself, Breakdown chuckled as his spark warmed.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be ok. I’ll get you up and walking first, and then we can figure out what to do about my optic.” Knockout’s optics narrowed and that only made Breakdown smile more. “You first. Then me.”

“Breakdown--”

“No arguing,” Breakdown interrupted, spark only growing warmer at seeing how concerned Knockout was. “I said I’m gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” When Knockout still looked unconvinced, Breakdown added, “I want to take care of you.”

And wasn’t that the truth at the end of the day. Promises were one thing, but Breakdown wanted with all his spark to make sure Knockout was healthy and happy.

And, to Breakdown’s surprise, that finally quieted the barbarian. Those crimson optics searched his face and, slowly, Knockout’s expression softened and something new pulled at his optic ridges.

“You want to take care of me?”

“Yeah.”

His servo traced the angles of Breakdown’s face, then down his neck along the thin plating and the small gaps in between.

“Still want me?”

Breakdown felt heat flood his face, but he nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Knockout smiled, though it wobbled as his servo slipped around to the back of Breakdown’s neck, pulling him down and in towards him. Knockout’s lips were gentle as he kissed Breakdown, moving slowly, tenderly, intimately—

“I want you,” was admitted against Breakdown’s mouth, quiet and full of more emotions than Breakdown could identify, and his spark swelled until he would swear he was choking on it. Knockout was staring at him, optics bright and his lips curling back into that soft and impossibly warm smile, and then he laughed sweetly as he repeated, “I want you, Breakdown.”

Nothing could have kept Breakdown from kissing Knockout silly, from holding him close while Knockout grinned and wrapped his arms around Breakdown’s shoulders to keep him there, murmuring the phrase over and over—

“Sorry to intrude.”

--Except the utterly unapologetic voice of Ratchet.

Breakdown’s optics onlined instantly as he broke away, already stammering out apologies while Knockout snickered and Ratchet rolled his optics while pushing the cart of supplies over, not looking the least bit surprised.

“It’s fine, just save it for once you’re both out of my clinic, would you? Mecha these days, I swear.”

It was hard to feel guilty though when Knockout had his digits intertwined with Breakdown’s and he kept looking up at him with such a gleeful look on his face, sneaking kisses to Breakdown’s knuckles here and there before Ratchet snapped at him. Even then, Knockout just snickered again as he finally let go of Breakdown so that Ratchet could start hooking up medical cables.

Breakdown wasn’t even sure what had happened, what it meant to the barbarian, but his spark was eager to mirror the excitement and affection.

There was no proof, no reason to believe it, not until they talked—

But Breakdown’s spark was finally at ease because it was certain that Knockout was going to stay.

[ts1989fanatic]

By Duarte Garrido, Entertainment Reporter

ts1989fanatic Entertainment reporter my ASS, this guy is a self important PRICK with an agenda that has NOTHING TO DO WITH MUSIC.

Taylor Swift was nominated for six awards at the MTV EMAs, but received none. So has her latest album, Reputation, backfired?

ts1989fanatic In a word NO

It's as hard for me to talk about Taylor Swift's reputation as it is to admit she has a legacy to protect. But she does.

By winning Grammys and other accolades, leading an annoying "squad" of beautiful A-listers and sparking "bad blood" with anyone (or anything) who steps in her way, TayTay has certainly made a place for herself in the pantheon of mainstream songwriting.

ts1989fanatic Try 10 Grammys and more awards and accolades than ANY other artist alive you DICK

On Instagram, she has more than 100 million followers; on Spotify, she's back to breaking records; and her album out on Friday is still making headlines for how "personal" it is.

But at the MTV Europe Music Awards she arrived with six nominations and left empty handed.

ts1989fanatic CHECK in again this time next year CLOWN and let’s see how many awards and accolades Reputation has then after it’s been out a year and SMASHED records left and right.

Even in a ceremony presented by a bathrobe-wearing Rita Ora, this was still the biggest surprise of the night.

Only made stranger by the fact that Eminem was crowned best hip-hop act before even releasing an album.

"I'm not really sure how I got this, 'cause I haven't had an album out in a few years'," he said, awkwardly, on stage.

"I got one coming though".

But even in a clumsy awards ceremony featuring the very worst that modern music has to offer, I still find it satisfying to see Taylor Swift getting snubbed.

ts1989fanatic OF COURSE you find it satisfying you’re an ASSHOLE.

Especially, since her latest album - conveniently titled Reputation - is, in my opinion, the single most self-centred and hateful mix-tape ever released.

ts1989fanatic OPINIONS ARE LIKE ASSHOLES everyone has one, yours is just FULL OF SHIT.

From the first song to the last, her sixth studio outing is an attempt to - in her own lyrics - kill the "old Taylor" and come out as the "bad reputation" girl. But hasn't she already?

ts1989fanatic NO DICKHEAD it’s a PUSH BACK against PRICKS like you, it’s Taylor Swift taking back control of the narrative and it’s a love story. It’s not written for MORONS like you but for those of us that actually listen and pay attention.

For years, the public image of Taylor Swift has arguably been one of feuds and grudges and blacklists.

ts1989fanatic ONLY the PUBLIC IMAGE portrayed by MEDIA HACKS LIKE YOU.

On the industry front she went to war with Spotify over royalties, after stopping the streaming service from releasing her 2012 album Red.

Two years after saying "valuable things should be paid for" - the rich singer's version of "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to" - she pulled all her music from Spotify.

This year, she admitted defeat. But even after making peace with Spotify, fans will still have to wait for one week to stream her whole album in any platform.

ts1989fanatic ADMITTED DEFEAT only if that means SPOTIFY CAVED to her demands.

With her previous record 1989, she withheld it from streaming for eight months.

And it's not just streaming... Taylor's not crazy about journalists either.

ts1989fanatic Taylor Swift has NO PROBLEMS with journalists, IDIOTS LIKE YOU fail the SNIFF TEST as a journalist.

Earlier this month, her team of lawyers tried to silence a small-time blogger who criticised the singer for not addressing political issues.

The blog post titled "Swiftly to the alt-right: Taylor subtly gets the lower case kkk in formation" also compared Swift's following to that of Adolf Hitler.

ts1989fanatic THIS BLOGGER compared Taylor Swift to Hitler FUCKING RIGHT she has the RIGHT to demand a retraction, personally I would take this all the way to the Supreme Court if I was Taylor and her team. This is not FREE SPEECH it’s HATE SPEECH and DEFAMATION. 

The letter from Swift's lawyers, which threatened to sue the blogger if the post was not retracted, was criticised by the American Civil Liberties Union for an "attempt to suppress constitutionally protected speech".

"Intimidation tactics like these are unacceptable," ACLU said. Taylor's stand had backfired.

ts1989fanatic as a rule I support the ACLU in this case they are WRONG.

On a personal level, the list is ever-growing. From Nicki Minaj to Kanye West and Katy Perry, from Calvin Harris to Harry Styles, TayTay's list of so-called haters is nearly as long as her legion of fans.

ts1989fanatic You, you bottom feeding scum sucker need to learn how to do math, Taylor Swift has legions of fans and a handful of Haters the math don’t work PUTZ.

And that's where her problem truly lies: The fans. The MTV EMAs differ from other industry awards, because they are voted on by fans.

The mechanism allows mediocre acts to flourish, but it also mirrors the artist's true fan power - a much more accurate measure of success than the ever-fading charts.

By snubbing her music, her fans could be showing they are over her attacks on her enemies and score-settling with former boyfriends.

ts1989fanatic Could it be the FANS were a little busy enjoying Taylor’s return to SM and the release of new music and video’s, to worry about some second rate awards show.

Even in the charts, her album is witnessing a sub-par performance in both the UK and the US.

ts1989fanatic Hey fuck head you can’t have it both ways are as you say the charts “ever-fading” or as you indicate above important indicators. Even there you are as always WRONG.

By evolving from sweet country icon to the wicked witch of pop, TayTay might have felt empowered and cool. By fighting with everyone and everything, she might have felt like a vigilante.

ts1989fanatic Or maybe Taylor has GROWN UP and DECIDED that she will control her own STORY and not let complete HACKS like you control it.

Her huge fanbase might have helped enable all this, tweeting "you go girl" when she acted wrongly with others. They believed the sweet girl from Texas was standing up to abuse.

ts1989fanatic Taylor Swift is from  Reading, Pennsylvania NOT TEXAS YOU TURD.

Now it seems her fans are no longer buying it.

ts1989fanatic Based on SALES NUMBERS TO DATE AND THE FACT THAT AFTER THREE DAYS ONLY, REPUTATION IS THE BEST SELLING ALBUM OF 2017, I WOULD SAY THE FANS ARE BUYING IT IN SPADES.

And of all of this WITHOUT Taylor Swift having to TALK to one IDIOT like you and have her WORDS TWISTED just to fit some BULLSHIT NARRATIVE.

And we are so here for this Reputation Era Taylor Swift

[darth-thotticus]

Skinny Love (Ch. 2)

(Ch.1)

Dan awoke to streams of sunlight peeking from underneath his blinds. The clock on his phone read 7:12 am. He had just enough time to get ready and eat breakfast before school.

He put on his favorite gray sweater, paired with skinny jeans and sneakers, and stuffed his sketchbook into his book bag. Not wanting to wake his mom, he tiptoed through the kitchen quietly, grabbing a granola bar before heading out the door. 

Overall, the kid had a pretty okay life. 

His dad and mom split when he was younger, and his mom got most of the custody. His stepdad Martin was pretty great, though. And his family was alright financially. He was grateful that he never had to worry about having a supportive home life.

Dan was on track to being accepted to a good school and getting an art degree. Maybe after that, he would illustrate children’s books or design for some company, or maybe just live a quiet life of painting and sketching. Of course, he hoped one day that his works would be in a museum. Then he could impact more people, make a bigger statement. Although Dan’s life was quiet, his art was anything but. 

The piece he was most proud of was a pair of lungs, colors an ombre from red to purple, pride colors. The lungs were painted with glitter and soft roses. On the left lung, there is a hole through which one can see haphazard stitching as if the lung were trying to heal itself.

 Dan did it to protest his country’s homophobic tendencies, the rise of the alt-right with Trump’s election, and to show that if we do not breathe together we do not breathe at all. 

It was featured in his school’s art show and won first place. It got over 100,000 notes on Tumblr. He even sold prints of some of his art, 50% of the proceeds going towards reputable human rights charities. 

Dan was a positive force, and he would let nothing get in his way. He was a genuinely good person. 

Sitting in his first-period class, he pondered what his next project would be. Perhaps he could make something bigger out of his dream-inspired sketches.

The teacher droned on about asymptotes and other math related things and Dan tried his best to pay attention but to no avail. He just couldn’t focus today.

Most of his morning classes went the same way. At lunch, he sat with his best friend PJ. They talked about the usual stuff, video games, art, music, art, then video games again. Dan could forget for a minute that strange things were happening to him. PJ was always like that. Green eyes full of light, a grin full of mischief, and a sense of humor that could distract one from the toughest of problems. Dan considered himself lucky to be his friend. He could almost convince himself that things were normal until PJ changed the conversation from their usual topics.

“Have you seen the new kid yet?" he asked Dan. 

"No. There's a new kid?" Their school was small, so a new kid was fairly big news.

"Yeah. He's like. Edgy."

"What do you mean?"

"He showed up to chemistry today with black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Oh, and his hair's black as well."

"Seems a little old to still be in an emo phase."

"Exactly. And he hasn't really talked to anybody. I was scared he would shoot up the classroom any minute."

"What’s his name? Is he in here?" Dan asked, looking around the cafeteria.

"No, I don't see him. His name’s Phil I think."

"Is he hot?"

"Yeah. Leather jackets make everyone hot."

"Interesting. Maybe I'll have a new man by the end of the day." Dan wiggled his eyebrows and PJ laughed. 

Dan sat in his third-period class, right after lunch. He was doodling on the edge of his notebook when the teacher cleared her throat. 

“As some of you may already know, we have a new student.” Dan’s head whipped up. “I expect you all to treat him with the same respect and kindness you would want if you started at a new school. Come on in and introduce yourself, sweetie.” The teacher motioned toward the door and in walked the man. Like, the. man. The one who kept Dan up at night sketching. 

He was tall, just like in the dreams. His clothes fit his body everywhere just right. He had his hands stuffed into his leather jacket pockets, and his black book bag had metal studs on it. His icy blue eyes held nonchalance. He was so, so beautiful. 

Dan’s eyes were wide as he stared at the guy, mouth slightly agape in shock. 

It couldn’t be. 

But it is. 

But how?

“Hi, I’m Phil.” his voice was deep. The exact same voice Dan heard tell him, ‘I’m yours’. 

“Where are you from, Phil?” the teacher asked.

“I moved here from Lancashire.” Phil surveyed the room as if someone would challenge him. He made eye contact with Dan. It made Dan’s heart drop into his stomach. Phil only looked at him a second before moving on, which gave Dan the impression that Phil didn’t know him, or at least was pretending not to. 

“Alright, sweetie. You can go ahead and have a seat.”

Dan’s pulse was too fast.

The only open seat was next to him. 

(Ch.3)

[black-strike-otp]

part 34

♫♪ You have the most beautiful smile. You light up, I can see you for miles and if you stay we can stand at the edge of forever. How it kills me to see you get hurt. You have no idea how much you’re worth. I would pay anything for the courage to say that I love you... I am sure that I don’t want a world you aren’t in. ♫♪

Excuse me while I just- *muffled screaming as I fling myself into the nearest star I was not looking forward to writing this at all*

There was a monster beside her. It smelled cleaner than it had the previous night. Overpowering scents of carnage no longer lingered strongly to the colossal mech’s frame as strongly but there was still underlying smells that hinted to destruction and menace. He was never fully clean of it. Killing clung to him, the warrior that he was.

She was scared to let it be known she was awake. What if her thoughts were praying tricks and he wasn’t really in the room but had just left? Or what if he was in the room? Novastrike’s thoughts were still hazy on when she’d fallen into recharge the previous night but she knew one thing, from the fragrance on the berth and that embraced her, she must have been rather close to him when she’d recharged.

The very idea gave her chills, and not the sort that she felt most got when around Blackout.

It seemed like someone knew she roused however. Digits lightly prodded her form and she jerked with shock. Her own thoughts were so succumb that her audio receptors didn’t register the pedes that must have came encroaching on her.

“Sorry Novastrike, just checking up on you.”

Nova peered up slowly at the medic’s faceplate looming above her. Her helm covered the blinding light and caused a circle of light to encompass her helm.

“Mmm, right,” she muttered, sitting up slowly. Her optics trailed away from the femme to look around the room. They landed on Blackout’s momentous frame sitting on the adjacent berth.

“Did you recharge okay?” the medic grilled.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Any feeling of nausea, helmaches, loss of appetite, particular areas that hurt?”

“No, not really,” Novastrike answered. “A bit loss of appetite I guess.”

“Mmm. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Nova glanced at the scanner the femme was using on her curiously. The medic tilted it slightly so she couldn’t see the readings.

“No thank you,” Nova softly answered.

There was a look about the medic like she wasn’t too pleased with the answer. She was worried. Probably a few others on the ship were worried, no doubt.

“As your medic, I would highly suggest you think about coming back to me for therapy,” the medic urged. “But if you don’t want to, I won’t force it. If you begin feeling lengthy periods of sadness, anguish, a sense of-”

“Really, ma’am, I’ll be fine.”

Although the medic’s faceplate showed she wasn’t entirely convinced, she looked down at her data scanner. “Well you look pretty healthy to me. The shot busted your armor more than anything; caused minor internal damage but the blow burst outward when it struck you so I guess that’s a plus. Your armor is adhering nicely, seems to fit well. Just keep coming in for me to check on how your healing progresses.”

“Thank you ma’am,” the little femme responded. She eyed Blackout out of the corner of her optics as she spoke however.

Catching the glance, the medic turned to Blackout and spoke frankly, “I wouldn’t worry about him Novastrike. He survived the equivalent of a warhead being dropped on him. He nearly offlined at least half a dozen times under our care, and didn’t. I’m sure he can take being a little battered around.”

“I’ve had worse,” Blackout agreed in that deep, resounding baritone rumble.

Novastrike’s audios drooped slightly. She looked back up at the medic. “Am I free to leave, ma’am?”

The medic nodded. “Discharged indeed, milady,” she stated with a slight incline.

A weary smile appeared on Nova’s face. “Thank you,” she responded in a hushed tone, standing up. She took a few steps towards the edge of the berth and dropped on and onto the floor, lightly landing on her pedes.

Behind her, Blackout watched as she leaved and the medic leered at him, pulling out a scalpel and lifting her scanner up as the small femme disappeared through the door.

~

Reaching out, Novastrike took the data cable offered to her by Scorponok. The bug gave a chatter to her to let her know she had it in her grasp as she kept her optics on the plug she was staring at.

“Thanks Scorp,” Nova distractedly remarked, attaching the cable to the plug to initiate data transfer. She gave a slight shimmy of her pedes, making sure they were tucked into the section of the Rising Star she was using as a make-shift stand.

The minicon chirped in response, tilting his helm as he watched.

Streams of information began to filter into the shock wave disrupter from it’s accompanied software loader. Feeling pleased with herself as and the progress as the loading screen above her winked to life, Novastrike hopped off of the weapon and on the floor.

“Well there’s that,” she hummed, picking up her datapad from the floor to inspect the instructions. “It looks like all we have left to do is make sure we can conduct an opposite charge from what this baby’s generators, check on if the cannon discharges properly and extends from the ship fully with a little space walk... I should probably have Blackout examine the work we did on the photon burst rifles too...”

Whirring quietly, Scorponok reached out and lightly poked Novastrike with one of this pronged pieces of his drill. He offered a supportive click in response.

“Still don’t like me enough to give a definitive opinions, huh?” Nova snickered, reaching out to pat the bug on the helm.

A disagreeing beep escaped the minicon. “You fine. Work hard. Do good.”

“Good may not be good enough,” Nova vented, turning back to her datapad.

Flicking between some of the information she’d downloaded from the instructional manual for the shock wave weapon and other things she’d noted down to get done, Novastrike leaned against the machine slightly. Beside her the bug scooted closer and laid upon the floor quietly.

With her thoughts processing the information she read, Nova didn’t pick up on the guest approaching the room until the door opened.

She looked up from the datapad and blinked rapidly. “Blackout, you’re dismissed from the medic’s care?”

The hulking shadow shrugged his shoulders. “More or less. She wants me back tonight to run some more tests, make sure everything’s clear, but gave me the clear to walk around. Apparently I’m her ‘least favorite’ patient.”

A smile flashed across Novastrike’s face. “I can’t imagine why.”

The tender smile she got in return from him made her spark beat a little faster.

Glimpsing around the room briefly, Blackout settled his optics upon the small femme and his partner that laid beside her. “Looks like you two have got a lot done in my absence.”

“Less than you think,” Nova sheepishly remarked. “Actually, I was hoping if you’d be able to give me your advice on-”

She paused, spotting Blackout raising his servo at her. One of Nova’s audios tilted sideways slightly with confusion.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Blackout purposed. “Scorponok, are you okay with staying on board the ship?”

The bug gave a dull whirl, snuggling against the floor further. He looked more like a badly attempted smelted pile of metal, all but too comfortable to stay put.

“Stay on the ship?” Nova echoed with bewilderment, looking up to Blackout.

What had been a tender smile was slowly turning into one far more sneaky.

Blackout offered out his servo in a symbolic gesture, optics glittering with a scheming light. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice a dark husky growl.

Novastrike grinned broadly in replay as her spark leapt in her chassis. It was the only answer she needed.

~

A delighted squealing escaped Novastrike, leaping up and down in the hatch bay while watching Blackout transform. Armor rearranged and reshaped at Blackout’s will with ease until his bipedal disappeared and instead a fair sized aircraft was in its place.

“I haven’t seen you change into your alt-form in Primus knows how long,” Novastrike squeaked. “It’s good to see that nothing was too fargone to make it impossible for you to do so.”

A chuckle escaped the ship. “You’re pleased about this? We’ve not even gone yet,” Blackout teased as two panels of metal opened vertically, one panel going down and one up. “Care for a ride?”

That same fragging fluttering in her spark started again.

“R-Really?” Nova chirped. It was pretty obvious to her from all their years of meeting up in the most unexpected places that he was both a very private mech, and one who valued his own spark.

Putting someone directly inside of your alt-mode was probably a sure fired way of allowing them the privilege to wreck your insides.

“Unless you changed your mind,” Blackout whimsically responded, taunting her lightly.

With a servo against her chassis, Novastrike slowly walked up to the entry into Blackout’s alt-mode. She only hesitated briefly before stepping inside.

It was, as expected, dark. Everything was black and dimly lit. Lights from portions and consoles, and a single seat was positioned near the front section of his form.

“Take a seat.”

“Is it impolite of me to ask exactly what part of you is the seat made of?”

“Highly impolite,” Blackout drawled, hearing the soft peels of laughter escape Novastrike. “Worry you not; it’s sections of my chassis.”

“Sucks for you,” Novastrike teased, walking lightly around to take a seat.

“Really?” Blackout mused aloud. “A femme upon my chassis ‘sucks for me’? Not really a problem I’ve heard from many mechs.”

A halo of light began to form around Novastrike’s audios. “Shut up,” she jeered.

As the engines hummed with life, Novastrike instantly went to grip the arm rests of the seat. Her optics moved around the interior of the space vessel, watching the different lights blink. At the command console in front of her were a surprising array of buttons, levers, shifting gears, and other operation ship equipment. It surprised her to see that kind of stuff; she half expected him to have nothing of the sort of his alt-mode. After all, who would fly a living Cybertronian around?

Blackout’s form hovered off the floor of the hatch bay briefly and then his thrusters kicked in, burning a soft light as he slowly flew out from the doors. Instinctively Novastrike looked back, feeling foolish as all she saw was the back of Blackout’s interior.

A light flashed out of the corner of her optics and Novastrike’s turned forward.

There was a viewing screen that popped up to show the view from the rear. A slight giggle escaped Nova, trying to imagine what the frag was possibly used to emit the image.

Another screen popped up, showing a star chart.

“Woah,” Novastrike breathed, looking over the vast field of information. It zoomed inwardly in less than the blink of an optic, showing their exact position in the realm of space they currently resided in.

“That’s incredible.”

“Don’t be so easily impressed, you’ll give me an ego.”

“You don’t take me as the type to have a big ego.”

“Oh?”

Novastrike tilted her helm slightly. “No. If anything, I’d say you run the opposite end of the scale.”

There was a moment of silence that concerned Novastrike, and then Blackout quietly responded, “You have a knack for reading me.”

“I’ve been with you long enough, haven’t I?” Nova joked.

For a brief nanoklik, she wondered if that would be taken the wrong way and she felt flustered.

“Other bots have known me longer,” Blackout casually responded, “and haven’t been able to read me so well.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” Novastrike said with confusion. “You’ve been very willing to let me in.”

The silence that followed felt thick with tension. Which of the things she said had upset him so? Why was he always shutting down when she tried to get closer? All she meant to do was tease him and let him know it wasn’t all her that was making this friendship work. Friendship wasn’t exactly a one-way street.

“Offline your optics,” Blackout abruptly stated.

“What? Why?” Novastrike asked suspiciously. Was he going to ditch her out in the middle of nowhere?

“Do you not trust me?”

There was a weight to his words this time that Novastrike hadn’t caught the last time he asked. She obliged without question, shuttering and offlining her optics.

“Okay, they’re off.”

“Good. Keep them that way until I tell you to.”

She was very tempted to peek.

But, choosing to let Blackout lead her astray into the darkness, she did not. Instead, she reached out with her senses; allowing the space she was in to surround her. That standard perfume of a hunter, the sounds of thrusters burning, the hum of electronics. She could taste energon in the air faintly; probably from a healing wound, she suspected.

Then there was of course the metal she sat upon. It was sturdy and thick. A fine representation of the mech it was actually formed from. She found it a little odd how well formed it was, as if Blackout had consciously put effort into considering her size when transforming.

But that was stupid. The chair was probably just a natural part of his alt-mode, right?

There was a sudden lurch as Blackout’s thrusters kicked into overdrive and they were soaring. A breathless noise escaped Nova in response, and she could hear Blackout snicker at her response.

“Where are you taking me?” she inquired.

“You will see.”

Nova frowned slightly and slumped further back into the chair.

Peaceful quiet fell over the duo. It was a completely comfortable hush of two individuals finding pleasantness just in the sheer physical company of the other. There were words that really need be exchanged.

Until Blackout finally spoke up, his thrusters suddenly lowering their speed.

“You can online your optics now.”

Novastrike’s optics flashed, coming online and unshuttering.

A celestial body floated before her, encompassing much of the sections of glass that allowed for outside viewing. The planetoid was a well shaped sphere. It was a rather massive world, with a thick outer atmosphere of swirling gases. You couldn’t even seen down to what sort of core or surface the planet might have, for the gases were so thick atop.

It held a purple and blue hue about it with streaks of white. Surrounding the planet were two separate rings, both going in opposite directions around the planet. They connected in a single point almost in the center of the planet before her.

“It’s beautiful,” Novastrike whispered, awed.

A rumble moved through Blackout’s frame, ringing in Nova’s audios. His thrusters puffed gently, sending them towards the planet.

As they approached, Nova took in the a closer look at the orbiting bands. They didn’t appear to be made up of rock, as she noticed in most planets that contained rings.

The thrusters suddenly stopped and they floated slowly beneath one of the rings.

“Hop out.”

“Out? As in, outside of you?”

Did he think she was mad?

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Blackout responded in his usual composed tone.

Although the idea didn’t sound very bright, he did ask if she trusted him.

Getting up from the seat, Novastrike stepped as light as she could, not wanting to disrupt or upset Blackout, over to the doorway. It opened before her and she sucked in a deep breath, and jumped out, demagntizing her pedes from Blackout’s frame.

Antigravity instantly had her and she floated slightly. With no way of controlling herself Nova waved her arms wildly, letting out a slight squawk.

There was a sudden metallic clicking and clanking behind her. Nova tried to flip herself over, glancing around wildly.

Blackout’s servos suddenly wrapped around her, carefully drawing her against his chassis.

Instantly bashful, Novastrike’s ears began to fiercely glow as she looked up. Her spark gave a little flop in its chamber, spotting Blackout looking down at her with a cheeky grin.

“Did I impress you?” he pressed. There was something about in this sound of his voice that made Nova think he wanted to impress her.

“Impressed and awed me,” Nova quickly replied. “It’s stunning out here. This planet is magnificent. What’s it called?”

“A bunch of numbers,” Blackout replied. Again, there was a color to his tone that suggested displeasure. “I would like to propose it be called Novastrikium.”

The halo of light around Novastrike’s ears grew brighter. She felt the heat from her own energon burning in her veins as she sniffed at Blackout, faking disinterest.

“That’s a horrible name,” she insisted.

“Just Novastrike then, perhaps.”

“That’s taken.”

“I’m not claiming to be a very creative mech. You could help me out here.”

Turning her face away, Nova let out a strained noise in the back of her throat. By the Primes, she felt like someone had set her aflame.

A harmonious hum emitted from Blackout, much to Novastrike’s embarrassment. Her ears twitched and flicked erratically. Could he hear the sound of her spark beating so hard? Let her stop blushing, please, Primus.

Blackout’s digits, weaved around her, slowly untwined. Not wanting to become part of the cosmos and space debris just yet Novastrike tried grabbing at Blackout’s servo, letting out a slightly panicked shrill note from her throat.

Resting his servo beneath Novastrike, Blackout spoke quietly, “Turn on your magnetism.”

She was pretty sure a lot more than her magnets were turned on (No, not that way, you dirty person =I ).

There was a soft tap of metal against metal as Novastrike’s pedes connected to Blackout’s servo. She crouched slightly, confused as Blackout rose his arm up more towards his helm-space.

A sigh of wonderment escaped the small femme. She reached out with her servo towards the edges of the orbiting ring. The shards within the streaming hoop were so small that they bounced lightly off of her servo and went flying off in various directions.

“It’s made of ice,” Nova noted with astonishment.

“Ice, some rock, and some fragments of tetrahedral arranged carbon, also known as diamonds.”

“You’re telling me there’s pieces of precious stones in this?” Novastrike whispered with reverence, staring at the swirling mass of glittering flecks that flew around her servo and out from their orbit.

“There are.”

With how hot she was blushing, Novastrike wondered if she’d still have ears before they got back to the Rising Star.

“This is incredibly dazzling,” Nova choked, trying to wipe her processor of the fact this giant aft had just moments earlier recommended they name this charming planet after her.

Blackout made a soft noise in return of agreement.

Turning her optics away from the halo that surrounded the planet, Nova passed a glance down to Blackout questioningly at his silent response.

A faint smile touched the mech’s face. His features appeared completely relaxed. More relaxed than she’d even seen him in fact. There was no guard, no sign of unease, not even a speck of his walls and protective barriers.

Just a certain softness that made him appear completely exposed in that brief moment, with a light shine to his optics.

“The cosmos suits you,” he commented in an almost velvety accent. “You look beautiful.”

Light reflected off Novastrike’s luminous optics in startled fragments. Various shades of blue were glancing off the ice and diamonds, illuminating the area along with her blushing audios and even bringing color upon Blackout’s colorless black armor.

She tried to babble something in return, even a thank you at least, but instead a strangled metallic garble escaped her vocalizer.

And then laughter.

Throwing her servos over her faceplate, Nova began to laugh and laugh. She couldn’t even describe why she was laughing. Was it because she didn’t know how to otherwise react? Was she really just that stunned? Was it her own awkward attempt at a reply that embarrassed her into laughter?

Who knew.

She didn’t.

Lubricant pricked at her optics as she laughed, pulling her servos away and trying to suck in the absolutely frigid vacuum of space into her vents to cool her hot frame as she laughed.

Blackout watched her, partly amused and slightly puzzled by her reaction. At the very least, he was happy to see her smiling after how she’d been acting with the offlining of that mech.

Still laughing and wiping at the tears on her faceplate causing them to float into the orbital ring, Novastrike sniffed and managed to gasp out: “Oh Primus... you did not... you did not just call me beautiful to my face! Oh my Primus!”

With her giggle fit continuing, Nova pressed a servo over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, was that the wrong term?” Blackout asked with a slight smile. “I’ve not used the word in... well, possibly ever. Maybe gorgeous is the right word, or ravishing... or maybe classy, radiant?”

“Oh please, stop,” Nova wheezed, “You’re killing me.”

“It’s true,” Blackout insisted, seeming further perplexed by her insistence on retracting the obvious. “You should see yourself. The way the stars cast off your optics, the glow of her armor, the gleam of your audios and glimmer in your gaze.”

The giggles began to grow fainter, dying away slowly. Novastrike’s armor felt hot and her processor muddled. He stated these things like they were facts; simple truths, things everyone would agree with without a second doubt. His voice was plain and somewhat confused, but clearly he believed in what he said.

Nova blinked her optics rapidly. The way he was staring at her, it was like he was seeing her for the first time in years. He appeared almost... startled.

“I... Thank you, Blackout,” Novastrike barely managed to whisper; her voice faint, nearly lost in the void of space.

His expression still appeared alarmed, borderline terrified as he murmured, “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?”

“For what?” Nova quizzically asked.

“For the view.”

Oh.

Dear.

Their optics fixated upon each others. Novastrike could feel the fever sweltering inside of her figure like an inferno. She couldn’t find the space to breathe anymore.

“Come here,” Blackout growled in his usual deep, strong voice as he slowly pulled his arms inward.

She knew if she asked not to be drawn into his chassis, he’d stop in an instant. But there was so much comfort to be found there as he nestled her against his armor. Her pedes demagnetized and Satan curled his digits just enough to keep her pressed against him as they bobbed silently in the vast celestial emptiness.

Novastrike turned to keep her backstrut against Blackout so she could continue staring out, admiring the planet with her ears blazing with humiliation.

Above her, someone else had a very different view on exactly what was to be admired. And it scared him to the Pit.