#climbing mountain album

[humofbumblebees]

i cannot believe he expected me to just sha-na-na my way out of this one

[brownsugar4hersoul]

[luxxlillian]

I know I'm part of the problem, and thus my own worst enemy, but if MCR puts out another album and it is anything less than perfection I will be SO mean and loud about it.

[ashleythecreator]

One of my favourite albums

[ace-turned-confused]

spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

-

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

-

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued… 

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

-

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase. 

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

-

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

-

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[solomon-revisited]

my copy has finally arrived... sixteen old songs from my earnest friends

THE CORONER'S GAMBIT LINER NOTES

TRANSCRIPT:

HE was a guy from California who'd fallen in love with a woman from Iowa. She was working at a water testing lab. They lived in a very small house whose pipes froze every winter. The landlord would come by and put space heaters under the sink. Years later, they retained the memory of the water coming back on - the sudden sound of the shower, the rush from the sink. They slept on a foam mattress in the bedroom in the summer, and on the couch in the living room in the winter, since the house did not have central heating, rendering the bedroom essentially uninhabitable from December through March.

They were not really the kind of people to plan things: they had fun when and where they could on an austere budget. The ice skates they bought used from Play It Again Sports made for fun Christmas mornings on West Indian Creek in Nevada, one town over from where they lived. He learned to cook, and to bake: they didn't go out to eat, because there really wasn't any place to go out and eat, though on occasion they would get a pizza from Casey's, because their town had a Casey's. Under the right circumstances a gas station pizza can be just the thing, and they sometimes found themselves in those circumstances.

He made music which was slowly reaching a wider audience. If he played in New York or Chicago as many as a hundred people might show up. He was idly entertaining the idea of becoming ambitious about it: as a child, he'd been pretty pretentious, and although he was working hard to shake most of that off, a little pretension isn't a bad thing in an artist. Just as a seasoning, as a little extra flavor here or there.

One summer he took a job as a harvest help at the Farmers Cooperative Exchange down the street from the very small house where the pipes froze in winter: getting the corn and soybeans into the grain elevator and into a big Morton building where the beans formed giant mountains, which he sometimes had to climb to knock down the peaks. If you don't knock down the peaks the beans get too hot and might rot. The job didn't pay much, and he wasn't good at it, but during slow stretches he would write song lyrics on scraps of paper or in a small notebook, and when he got home from work and washed off the crop dust, he'd set the lyrics to music. "Elijah" was written like this. So was "The Alphonse Mambo."

He took a Greyhound bus to Omaha to record some of the songs, so that the album would have a nice varied feel to it, but he got very sick, which is not an uncommon thing to have happen after a Greyhound ride, and only a few songs came out the way he wanted. He kept those, and then they got married and moved to Ames because the City of Colo had purchased their home from that landlord and intended to knock it down, which they did do, he affirmed years later: and in Ames he put the album together, and then later they moved to North Carolina and a whole lot of other things happened, too, but the main thing is that this album is a document of a time when two young people in love hadn't yet located the spot on the current that would carry them to their destination, twenty-five years later, parents of two beautiful children, worlds away from Colo, the place where, for better or worse, as the saying goes, all this really began.

Dedicated to my wife, Lalitree, and to the City of Colo, Iowa.

This is the original text of the paper bag that housed the first edition of this album. I am leaving it intact rather than revising it. Stage Bidet's moment comes ever closer: let the people tremble in fear.

Elijah, Baboon, Horseradish Road, Onions, and the Alphonse Mambo recorded in Omaha with Simon Joyner, Chris Deden, Lonnie Methe, Brad Smith, John Kotchen, Steve Micek, and Pat Oakes. All of them are owed money and are to be treated with deference and respect. Five of the remaining songs were recorded at Main St. in Colo, which is a small town in Iowa, and the rest were recorded two blocks north of Emma McCarthy Lee Park in Ames, which is a considerably larger town half and hour west of Colo. Though happy circumstances currently have the Mountain Goats claiming Ames, we continue to straight up represent Colo and will put the slap down on anyone who disrespects it. Transfer and levels by Bob Durkee at FBE in Pomona, California, with Joel Huschle attending. As a result of some regrettable but inevitable conversations that took place during the transfer, Bob, Joel, and the Mountain Goats have formed a new, super-powerful punk rock machine called Stage Bidet, and we urge you to watch for us and clear us a wide berth whenever we're in your town. Instead of thanking all the people I always thank to whom I say, collectively and with no less sincerity: thanks. I am just going to spend the time left us here addressing an absent friend. Rozz: I wish you hadn't've gone and killed yourself. Though I hadn't seen or spoken with you in eight years since that night when, as far as I can tell from the reports I was later able to piece together, you tried, not without reason, to strangle the life out of me out there on the landing of Damien's apartment and I probably never would have ever seen you again anyway, it was still hard to hear that you were gone. All your friends had been predicting your death since the early eighties, and no-one could bear the thought of you growing old, but none of that did anything to soften the blow when I heard. I don't really believe that the dead see or hear what we do out here in the realm of corruptible things and I don't imagine that the anyone reads the scribblings on the backs of album jackets to them, either, so I am really only addressing a memory. To that memory I say: I thought of you now and then when I was writing these songs. I don't suppose they'd do much for you, but I thought of you all the same. All your friends miss you in some way, a little or a lot. The rumors about your final hours are dismal and tawdry: I am sure they would please you immensely. For your sake, I hope that the Christians were wrong and that you were right about whether the faithless are destined for eternal torment. In the event that you are a ghost and are wandering the earth moaning and rattling chains, I moved to Iowa from California four or five years ago, stop by any time. Have a seat on the couch until I get home from work. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator, or to the whiskey and sake on top of it. Make yourself right at home.

Album cover design by Tom Hart

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Dueteronomy 2:10 (The Mountain Goats)

In Costa Rica, in a burrow underground/Climb to the surface, blink my eyes and look around/I'm all alone here as I try my tiny song/Claim my place beneath the sky, but I won't be here for long

"It’s a simple, short, devastating song from the perspective of three now-extinct animals, each of whom are the last of their species and completely alone. As John Darnielle put it in 2015, “This is kind of a song about hopelessness, and, uh, and the long, steady contemplation thereof.”

Laid in Blood (The Mechanisms)

Her body lies in her wife's caress, her face is free of her life's distress/Wearing the rags of her wedding dress/Laid in blood when the battle has done...Their bodies are still and their blood is cold, the book is closed and the story told/No happy ever after for a tale so old/Laid in blood when the battle has done

"It's the last song on the album, wrapping up everything that happened. Except, everything that happened is tragic, because this is a tragedy, and Rose was attacked at her wedding and almost everyone there died, and then they cloned Rose (minus her memories) thousands of times to create an army. Cinders, her wife, and Snow, her sister, spent decades searching for her, but the moment Rose woke up and saw Snow, Snow was shot dead, and then Rose hugged Cinders and was immediately shot in the back. And then the closing lines, "no happy ever after for a tale so old" because they're right, it's been told time and time again and eventually the story has to end, doesn't it? Nothing can be happily ever after forever and eternity."

Poll runner: This was one of the first songs I listened to for this tournement... and yes, those mechanisms do be fucking you up. Especially if you like songs with stories in them. I've listened to it for fun since, many times.

Dueteronomy submitted by @all-our-exploring

Laid in Blood submitted by @ceaseless-rambler

[aboardthescheherazade]

The Tintin Timeline

So the Tintin canon continuity is, uh, a mess. It's a "floating timeline" specifically, which is a literary term for when serialized media takes place during the present of whenever it's being worked on. However, nobody seems to have taken a look at the exact timeline within the canon, and exactly how long the stories take place within Tintin's life. All of the following data is approximate, with most of it taken from the setting boxes (i.e. "Two days later") and by studying how many nights pass within each story.

A quick note: Certain spans of time in the book are designated with vague quantifiers, such as “several” or “a few”. However, 7 days is always designated with “a week”. I explain my estimation where necessary, but I usually see the former spans as being within 3-5 days. Again, these are all approximations and I am not claiming any sort of canon declaration; these are presented for entertainment purposes.

Land of the Soviets: 9 days

Congo: 22 days (Tintin spends at least 17 days in the Congo, while his journey there on the boat is said to take “several days”. Given the mode of transport and the distance, I have estimated it as being about 5 days.)

America: approx. 3 weeks (20-23 days)

Cigars: approx. 2 weeks (15-18 days)

Blue Lotus: approx. 4 weeks (25-30 days)

The Broken Ear: approx. 6 weeks (39-42 days)

Black Island: 7 days

Ottokar: approx. 2 weeks (14-15 days)

Crab: approx. 2 weeks (13-14 days)

Shooting Star: approx. 5 weeks (the main story elapses over 20 days; the last page has a scene “some weeks” later, which I interpreted as a fortnight)

Unicorn: approx. 10 days

Rackham: approx. 48 days (The main story seems to elapse over 45 days, and the last page seems to happen some days later)

Seven Crystal Balls: 9 days

Prisoners of the Sun: at least 41 (there are three unaccounted-for periods, when 1. Tintin’s group is climbing the mountains [“days go by” until “one morning”, which I interpreted as being at least 3 days], 2. when they trek through the jungle [”the days go by”, again 3 days], and 3. at the end of the book [”several days later”, interpreted as 6 days])

Black Gold: approx. 27 days (13 days + “some weeks” estimated as a fortnight. The ensuing album opens with Haddock and Tintin returning home, where they hear Calculus has been gone since three weeks before)

Destination Moon: approx. 144 days (This one has the larges jumps in time. The first 36 pages happen over 41 days, then “some months” pass, estimated at 3)

Explorers: 10 days

Calculus Affair: 11 days

Red Sea Sharks: 30 days

Tibet: 33 days

Castafiore Emerald: at least 21 days (there are 18 accounted-for days, and then a period indicated just with “The days go by”. Given how most time lapses in the book are spans of 3 days, this period was at least three days long as well)

Flight 714 to Sydney: 1 day + 7 days (main story; pages 60-62 take place about a week later)

Picaros: 15 days

Total: The events of the The Adventures of Tintin take place over approximately 613 days.

But is it a linear timeline? We have no word on how much time passes between each album, but we’ll add at least one week between each one - except for America/Cigars/Lotus, Destination/Explorers, Crystal/Prisoners, and Unicorn/Rackham - just to give each album’s settings enough time to transition into a new story. This gives us an additional 17 weeks (17 x 7 days). With all of this calculated together, the series happens over the course of approximately 2 years, 2 days...at least, according to a bored fan who likes to count (ง ื▿ ื)ว

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

what if it's you, and what if it's me, and what if that's all that we need it to be

bruiseshipping exchange fic for @fancypersonaskeletonturtle! I hope you enjoy it, I managed to get all the prompts combined into this <3

@ninjago-drabbles

cross posted to ao3

~

Cole’s thoughts were all jumbled up as he and Jay hiked up the mountain. They’d finally gotten him back after so long, but Jay was amnesiac. He couldn’t remember anything from before the Merge. Nothing about his parents, or his time as a ninja, or their relationship together. That last one hurt the most. But that was why they were going up this mountain right now — maybe if Cole brought Jay to places they’d gone before, he would remember.

“It’s not much further,” Cole told Jay. They were about three-quarters of the way up, only half an hour or so before they reached the top. 

“O- okay,” Jay stumbled over his words. 

Cole should probably talk. He had been silent for most of the trip, not usually a problem when someone else was doing the talking, but Jay wasn’t as talkative anymore. It was like being in the Administration had stripped him of all his personality. “Um, the view up there is very nice,” he said awkwardly. “You can practically see all of the realms from there.” The view hadn’t always been like that — before the Merge it showed a lush forest. Now it showed a nonsensical mix of landscape that ranged from tundra all the way to desert. Cole had spent days trying to track down the mountain now that the world was so different.

“Even Imperium?” Jay cracked a dry smile. 

“Well, maybe not Imperium, but pretty much everywhere else,” Cole said sheepishly. He twisted the bracelet on his wrist, a habit he’d picked up while in the Land of Lost Things. 

“Must be nice.”

“It is.”

Reaching the top of the mountain, they really could see all the merged realms. Cole looked over at Jay, searching for any hint of recognition. He didn’t find any. 

Jay sniffled. “I… I don’t remember this,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Cole pushed down the pang of hurt he felt. It wasn’t completely unexpected for Jay not to remember this, and not fair of him to be upset about it when it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Nobody could have predicted Jay’s amnesia. “That’s alright. This place is pretty different from what it was before the Merge.”

“We can still stay for a while though, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

~

Getting back to the Monastery took another three hours. The trek to the mountain had taken quite a while, and climbing up took even longer. By the time they arrived home, Jay was ready to collapse on his bed and sleep. Of course, he used the term ‘home’ loosely. The Monastery was more home than the Administration, but he couldn’t remember any of it. Couldn’t remember any late movie nights that must have taken place, or training sessions, or even just goofing around with his friends. 

Jay knew that it must hurt everyone for him not to remember. Going to the mountain with Cole had been an incredible experience. He only wished he could remember the first time they went together.

Cole knocked on the open door, a nonverbal request to be let in. “Door’s open,” Jay said. 

“I brought a photo album,” Cole said quietly. He held up a bright blue monstrosity of a folder, decorated with stickers and glitter. “I thought maybe this could jog your memory?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jay patted the space next to him on the bed. Cole sat down and opened the folder. 

“I didn’t realise people still used those,” Jay joked. Anything to get rid of the awful mood that hung in the room.

Cole shrugged. “Probably not a lot, but Master Wu is — was old fashioned. And I think it’s more sentimental than a phone.”

“I guess,” Jay turned to look at the photos.

The first page of the book showed two handwritten notes. The first was obviously written by Cole. To Jay, it said. I love you more than words can express. Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You mean the world to me and I love you more than what can be written on this paper.

The second seemed to be from Jay. He had no memory of writing it, of course he didn’t, but it seemed very heartfelt. I love you, Cole. You’re my best friend, my love, my soulmate, my ride-or-die. Cheers to a new beginning <3

Jay could feel Cole staring at him, begging wishing hoping for him to remember. Jay turned the page and looked at the photos pasted on it. There were several on this one: a selfie of them at some sort of cafe, holding up pastries and smiling; a picture someone else had taken of them curled up on the couch asleep; them covered in mud and dripping wet, with the caption ‘went fishing and failed.’ All sorts of memories that Jay desperately wanted to remember but couldn’t. Looking at these photos made him feel like a stranger peering into someone else’s life.

Jay’s gaze drifted to the next page. It showed similar pictures, of them making flower crowns and having lunch together and smiling and laughing and being happy. He stroked the one of them dancing a duet. The photo was dimly lit, and the resolution wasn’t great, but Jay could tell it was one of the best memories just from how happy they looked in it.

~

Cole looked at Jay and tried not to cry. He was showing no recognition of anything so far, but they weren’t even halfway through the book yet. Maybe something would click later on. He watched as Jay flipped through the pages. His heart stuttered when Jay touched the photo of them dancing a duet. Did he remember that one? To Cole, it was one of the most important moments in their relationship.

“So, first date?” Jay looked at Cole hopefully. He put on an award winning smile and held out his hand. “I have plans, if you want to.”

Cole laughed. “Haven’t we already gone on a date?” He teased. 

“Fighting evil together does not count!” Jay swatted Cole’s arm. “I was thinking more of a night out. Not for fighting the forces of darkness or anything, just us going to the club and having fun.”

“A club? You’ve found one that will let in two underage teenagers?”

“I have my ways,” Jay smirked. “Soo, do you want to, or no?”

“You already know the answer to that, Sparky.”

“Stop and let me live out the teenage romance movie, please?”

“Of course, my good sir.”

Jay smiled and tugged on Cole’s arm. “Our chariot awaits!” He pointed at the lightning jet — it had been given a makeover for the occasion, with fairy lights and fake candles scattered about. Even the windows were decorated with little heart stickers. 

“You did all this?” Cole looked at Jay in surprise. 

“Of course! It’s our first date and you expected no romantic lighting? The horror!” Jay faked fainting, draping an arm on his head and the other around his stomach.

“You’re such a dork.”

“It’s one of my best traits,” Jay said. “Get dressed and we’ll meet here in ten?”

“Sure.”

Getting to the club took only a few minutes. Jay had chosen a good place, and going by air meant the commute was even shorter. 

“Good sir,” Jay bowed and opened the door for Cole. He was especially striking that night, dressed in a navy blue suit. His hair had been gelled to the side, obviously with Kai’s hair products. 

Cole smiled. “Thank you,” he said as he stepped out. The entrance to the building was lit up in neon lights, blue and pink and red and green. 

Jay walked over and hooked his arm around Cole’s. “We’re gonna be the best dressed couple at the dance,” he joked. “Absolute ten-out-of-ten.”

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah! Or at least, you will. I mean, you’re stunning! Not that you’re not always stunning, but—“ 

Cole put a finger to Jay’s lips. “You look amazing as well, so shut up.”

“Tickets?” A gruff voice interrupted the moment. Cole looked up at the security guard. 

“Oh, yeah. Here,” Jay pulled out his phone and showed it to the guard. 

Whatever he had shown must have been satisfactory, because the guard grunted and let them in.

“Wow,” Cole breathed. The club was incredible and kind of overwhelming — bright disco lights bathing the room in colour, a snack bar with people crowded around, music blaring loudly.

“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Jay grinned. 

A loud crashing sound from outside stopped Cole from answering. “— no, we’re here on official ninja business,” Kai’s voice said. Of course the others had followed them. 

Jay rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed Cole. “C’mon, let’s outrun them.”

“They’re such stalkers,” Cole agreed.

 They pushed through the crowd to the dance floor, where the chances of being found were slim. “A dance?” Jay held out his arm. “I’ve been practicing for weeks.”

Cole took his hand. “Good thing I can dance too, then,” he said. 

They slow danced like that for what felt like an eternity in the best way possible.

~

Cole snapped out of his memories to the sound of Jay turning the page. “This is all us?” Jay asked. His expression was strange — not exactly wistful, but it was something close. As if he didn’t quite understand the photos, but wished he could.

Cole cleared his throat. “Yeah, that album is just the two of us, but there are more that have the others.”

“There’s a lot in here,” Jay said softly. He gestured to the dozens of pages, all of which  held at least three photos each. 

“We knew each other for a long time,” Cole shrugged. “That’s like five years of photos.”

“Five years,” Jay said, like they were foreign words. 

“Five years,” Cole agreed. 

~

The next day, Cole brought Jay to the old coffee shop they used to frequent. The place hadn’t changed despite everything — even after the Merge, it was still painted the same shade of grey and the floor was still suspiciously sticky. The menu hadn’t gotten anything new added. The same display case showed the exact same pastries as five years ago. Even the cat looked the same, unkept orange fur and a confused expression. Everything about this place made it perfect for jogging Jay’s memory — the mountain was pretty different now, but old Mr. Chan’s coffee shop was exactly the same.

“This is Mr. Chan’s,” Cole said to Jay. “We used to come here all the time. It hasn’t changed a bit,” he chuckled. 

Jay still had that mildly confused, sorrowful expression on. “And we got… coffee? Here?”

“Yep,” Cole nodded. “Is anything familiar?”

Jay paused for a moment, seemingly considering it, and then shook his head. Any hope Cole had felt shattered.

“That’s alright,” Cole smiled. He hoped that Jay couldn’t still tell the difference between which of his smiles were genuine and which were forced. “You wanna order?”

“Sure.”

~

Jay stared down at his coffee. It was delicious — perfect amount of sugar and cream, and the coffee itself was amazing too. Cole sat across from him, drinking an abomination of sugar and caramel. How he could stand to drink that, Jay would never know.

Cole must have noticed him staring, because he looked up. “You enjoying it?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Jay said.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

Jay shook his head and pretended not to notice Cole deflating at his response. He really wished that he could remember, could be the person that Cole clearly needed, but his brain was empty. Trying to think of anything from his past drew up a blank. He hadn’t even known the ninja’s names before they introduced themselves.

“It’s okay not to remember,” Cole said. “We’ve dealt with amnesia before.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Zane‘s gotten it a bunch of times. Nya too, and one time all of you collectively forgot me,” Cole laughed like he had told a funny joke.

“But has it ever taken this long to remember?”Jay clutched his takeout cup a little tighter. It had been five years since the Merge, which meant five years of no memory. At this point, was it even possible for Jay to remember? He still couldn’t recall his parents. Two people who must have raised and taken care of Jay, and he didn’t know their names.

“Zane was amnesiac for like sixty years.”

“Zane is a nindroid. I’m not,” Jay frowned. “Tell me, Cole. Is it possible for a human to remember after so long?”

Cole looked immensely uncomfortable with this conversation. “I’m not sure,” he finally said, “and I’m also not sure if we’re even human at this point. So…”

Jay sighed and got up. He couldn’t stay here anymore, not when he wasn’t the person Cole remembered. Cole needed support and care, not whatever Jay could provide. He was probably better off with Zane or Kai or literally anyone who wasn’t an imposter pretending to be his loved one. “I’m going back to the Monastery now,” he said.

Cole stood up as well and followed Jay out the door. “You can’t get back without driving,” he reminded him. “And I have the keys.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“C’mon, let’s go back,” Cole opened the car door and got in. It was a very awkward drive back to the Monastery.

~

Cole lay on his bed face down. He’d locked the door and closed all the windows, effectively shutting himself in darkness. The blackout curtains really were his best investment. 

Coffee had been a disaster. Not only had Jay been unable to remember, Cole had also succeeded in making him feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t Jay’s fault that he had amnesia, and Cole’s prying had made everything worse.

Ugh. Cole was probably the merged realms’ worst boyfriend. Did he and Jay still count as boyfriends? Probably not. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

“I’m an awful person,” Cole groaned into his pillow. Zane would chastise him for moping like this, but Zane didn’t get to judge Cole’s relationship issues, not with how much sulking he’d been doing in Pixal’s absence.

He stayed buried in his blankets for only a few more minutes before he got bored. Cole forced himself out of bed and looked at the photo album instead — he hadn’t bothered putting it back in its rightful place yesterday. He flipped through, stopping at the photo of him and Jay curled up on the couch asleep. Nya had taken that picture; she’d found them asleep in the living room and took the opportunity. Jay had printed it out when they were putting the album together. “I like it,” he’d said, “you look so peaceful in it.”

“Peaceful? I tackled you and sent us both crashing to the floor,” Cole raised an eyebrow.

“It was a bonding moment.”

Cole smiled at the memory. It was another moment he thought of fondly, though that didn’t really mean anything when he thought of all their time together like that.

~

Jay was gaming, entirely focused on the screen in front of him. He wasn’t paying attention to Cole, who sat next to him boredly.

“Ha! Take that, ya stupid turtle!” Jay cackled at the screen.

Cole jolted upright at Jay’s sudden burst of laughter. His boyfriend wouldn’t be done with the game for a while, likely not until he was forcibly dragged away. Problem was, Cole wanted Jay to be focusing on him. But it would also be a tough challenge to get him away from his beloved video games. Nothing short of physically tackling him would get his attention.

Hmmm.  That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Cole positioned himself so that he could jump onto Jay with minimal injury. Jay was so absorbed in the game that he didn’t notice until Cole had slammed into him and they’d both ended up on the floor.

“Cole! What was that for?” Jay took a second to process before he spoke.

Cole tried not to smile. That would give him away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. 

“You— you liar!” Jay screamed hysterically. “You definitely know what I’m talking about!”

“Nope!” Cole grinned.

“You’re so clingy.”

“Don’t know what you mean by that, blabbermouth.”

Jay sighed and accepted his fate. “Fine, we’ll stay here tonight. But any sore muscles are your fault, okay?”

“More than okay.”

~

I should go talk to him, Cole thought.  He needed to talk to Jay, clear the air a bit. It had been even more awkward than usual since yesterday.

It hurt that Jay couldn’t remember anything, of course, but it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just the universe screwing them over, like always. Their lives truly were one disaster after another.

Cole sighed and got up, making his way to the door. He rehearsed what he’d say to Jay over and over. Then he knocked on the door and waited for Jay to respond. 

~

A knock at the door had Jay crawling out of bed and coming face to face with Cole, both of them standing there awkwardly until Jay spoke.

“Um, come in?” He squeaked.

“We need to talk,” Cole said. He gave no indication that he’d heard Jay speak, instead sitting down on the bed and looking at Jay. His eyes made Jay think of those creepy porcelain dolls in antique shops — they stared right into your soul, pulling out all your secrets.

“Talk about what, exactly?”

Cole got a guilty look on his face. “That sounded a bit ominous, didn’t it,” he mumbled. “Sorry. I just wanted to say that. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, lately. It’s just that you’re my best friend. And I’m trying to make you remember, because of course I want you to, and I’m pretty sure you do too, but it isn’t fair of me to keep pushing to make you remember when you can’t, and it’s not your fault, and—“ Cole was crying now, streams of water coming from his eyes. “I just wanted to say that you mean so much to me, and that it’s not your fault that all this happened. I’m being unfair, pressuring you to remember like this. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“I want to remember,” Jay said softly. “I want to know all the inside jokes that we had, and all the memories of our first date or birthdays and all the other stuff. You mean a lot to me too, I swear. It’s just that I can’t remember anything, and that means I can’t be the person you need. I can’t support you when I don’t even know your favourite colour, much less how to help with all the other stuff.”

“It’s orange,” Cole said suddenly, turning to look at Jay. “My favourite colour is orange.”

“And you’re the black ninja?”

“It’s ironic, I know,” Cole laughed. “But in all seriousness, it’s okay for you not to remember. Just be yourself, I guess. You’re still the same person. And I’m not letting go of hope that you’ll get your memories back with time.”

Cole took Jay’s hand. “We should spend a day together, get to know each other again. Go for a walk in the Crossroads or something. It would be fun.”

“Yeah, it would be,” Jay smiled.

“Maybe tomorrow? You know, before the next world shattering crisis arrives?”

“I’d like that.”

[rpmemes-galore]

Lana Del Rey : Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd album ... sentence starters

"Don't forget me."

"God, I love you, baby."

"You wanted me sadder."

"It's a shame that we die."

"But without them, I'd die."

"Does that sound like love?"

"Love me until I love myself."

"I threw caution to the wind."

"When's it gonna be my turn?"

"Come on, baby, you can thrive."

"Open me up, tell me you like me."

"Do you really think I give a damn."

"I can never stop, wanna have fun."

"Run away like your head is on fire."

"You've been acting pretty restless."

"So you say there's a chance for us."

"It's a shame and I'm crying right now."

"I wrote you a note, but I didn't send it."

"You give me this and I got you, honey."

"So many mountains too high to climb."

"I've got things to do, like nothing at all."

"But, sometimes, it's just not your time."

"I know, I know, I know that you hate me."

"Not that smart, but I've got things to say."

"If you want someone, then just call me up."

"Do you contemplate where we came from?"

"I haven't done a cartwheel since I was nine."

"I won't testify, I already fucked up my story."

"I've got magic in my hand, stars in my eyes."

"I don't know if it was God, but it felt like God."

"I haven't seen my mother in a long, long time."

"It's just that I don't trust myself with my heart."

"Baby, I'll bring the coffee if you bring the wine."

"I had to leave. Knew they wouldn't understand."

"Wouldn't that be somethin' to talk about for us?"

"I've discovered my preaching is mostly about me."

"I'm probably running away from the feelings I get."

"What I do after years of just hearing them talking?"

"It's not about having someone to love me anymorе."

"I couldn't be there for the one who was closest to me."

"Lately, I've been thinking about how things used to be."

"There's a certain point the body can't come back from."

"I like how you talk, how you speak, how you look at me."

"Although it seems I've gotten better, I can be violent, too."

"I can't help but feel somewhat like my body marred my soul."

"What kind of mother was she to say I'd end up in institutions?"

"My pastor told me when you leave, all you take is your memory."

"If you wanna go where nobody goes, that's where you'll find me."

"When everyone's star is bright, brighter than you are, it's time to go."

"I know that we've got problems. I plan to address them another day."

"If you want some basic bitch, go to the Beverly Center and find her."

"For me, you are the one… and if I'm not the one for you, don't just say it."

"What the fuck's wrong in your head to send me away, never to come back?"

"This is gonna sound crazy to you, but I'm gonna tell you the absolute truth."

"So if you don't know, don't give up, 'cause you never know what the new day might bring."

"I know they think that it took thousands of people to put me together again like an experiment."

[b0r3dtod3ath]

No brakes, part 1

Summary: Every time Y/N has been featured in a “No Brakes” episode (1,2,4,5)

F1 Masterlist 

Word count: 1.25k I think

Warnings (also mentioned before every paragraph): Mentions of working out; a sex joke; mentions of body dysmorphia

Ep. 1 

Daniel had a few weeks in between races and he decided to take you on a trip to Austria. He has been there many times and he wanted you to know how beautiful this country is. The trip was full of bike rides, hiking, and eating schnitzels. After a few days of vacation Daniel started recording a Youtube series called “No brakes”.

You decided to go for a hike. After an hour of climbing a semi-tall mountain you were greeted with an amazing view. You wanted to take a closer look at how high above the ground you actually were. You were about to get closer to the edge when you felt a pair of hands grabbing you “Please be careful. If you were to fall I would jump”. The strong need to keep you safe would often result in Daniel shouting at people. He’s not an irascible person but when it comes to you he has no limits. 

“We are gonna scare them. We’re doing something really cool.” All the camera could see was a smiling face hidden in the bush. You were going down at your own pace, careful not to slip, so you were a bit behind most of the group. It was around noon, green trees hid you from direct sunlight allowing a slight breeze to pass through. As you walked down a small path a group of four people jumped from the bushes. After a short mini heart attack you started dying of laughter causing everyone to laugh too. 

“You want to go up the mountain in the evening and watch the sunset? A few locals said it was really good.” Daniel lowered his voice a bit as you were sitting at a table, eating lunch with a bunch of other guys and his offer was to you only. A lot of the time you were surrounded by other people but he always made sure you two could have a moment alone during the day. He is a busy guy but he always tries to find some quality time for his lover. Whether it’s 15 minutes in his driver’s room before a race or a full evening after a race week. He likes to make sure that he is not distracted, so he would mute his phone and focus on you. 

As you were climbing the mountain, Danny was humming a song that has been stuck in his head for the past few days. At this point you could probably recite the full lyric because you have heard it so many times. “I’m glad you like it here.” says Daniel “Yea, we should come here more often. I think you should rest more, overall.” You were always scared of Daniel overworking himself. You knew being a driver was a hard job and you didn’t want him to feel burned out. You were always there for him. Always gave as much space as he wanted, always gave a shoulder to cry on after a terrible race. You two always cared for each other. 

Ep. 2 (tw: mentions of working out, a sex joke)

Next video featured preparing for the race in Monaco. Daniel was just about to leave the place you were staying in. “I’m going to do a quick workout.” he says, grabbing your waist and kissing your cheek. He always did it before he left. “Oh! By the way, I’m gonna go for a run. I just feel like doing a quick cardio, I don’t know. I just feel this energy.” His lips form the characteristic smile “I thought we were going to do cardio tonight”. He squeezes your hip as you respond “Don’t get your hopes up, Ricciardo. Now go, Michael is probably waiting.” Daniel only moves closer to kiss you. His hands on his hips - trying to convince you that his trainer can wait. You suddenly pull back “Go!”. “Okay, okay. Don’t forget your phone when you go out! I love you.” he laughed. You always had each other’s location shared. He wasn’t controlling you by any means, he just wanted to know you’re safe when you are not with him.

Ep. 4 (singer!reader; solange lyrics; tw: mentions of body dysmorphia) 

You always wanted Daniel to be on your album, even before you two started dating. He always pushed it off saying that he isn’t a good singer but you would find ways to feature him in other ways. You wanted him to read one of the sentences that really got stuck in your mind. He said it one night when you weren’t feeling the best in your body. He knew something was off but he didn’t want to push you. He noticed a pattern when your self confidence was a bit low. Little things that you didn’t pay attention to but he used to read you like an open book. He would always make sure to treat you even better than usual. He would treat you like a literal goddess. He would run you a bath, wash your hair, shower you with kisses constantly reminding you of how beautiful you were.

 It was just gonna be a half a minute interlude. His voice would be a bit edited so it would sound more dreamy. “Ok, so you go in there and you just read this.” You said giving him a piece of paper and pointing at a recording booth. He didn’t really look at the paper until the mic was recording. You gave him a thumbs up and he started to read “Do you realize how magnificent you are? The god that created you is a divine architect. That created the moon, the sun, the stars, Jupiter, Mars, Pluto, Venus. You are the walking embodiment of god consciousness.” As soon as he realized these are the words that he said he instantly started smiling. You did a couple of takes in case and told him to come back. “Aw! I didn’t know you remembered what I said that night!” he pulled you into a hug. He got a bit emotional to be honest. “Are you kidding me? That was the most beautiful thing you have ever came up with. You are gonna get credit for that. A beautiful “Daniel Ricciardo” written in the writers’ rubric.”.

Ep. 5

Daniel loved to impress you by doing donuts. He was about to park when an idea popped in his mind- he could get some extra footage as well as impress you. You were looking at your phone as you felt the car moving unusually, you knew what was going on. You turned to face your boyfriend and gave him a look that told more than words. He started laughing as he saw you in the corner of his eye.

You were supposed to meet Jenson and watch him and Daniel drive go karts. “You sure you don’t want to try? I can teach you.” says Daniel as he is done changing into his racing suit “Nah, I’m good. Don’t worry” you say. Danny always wanted to involve you in everything but you didn’t want to be stuck to him if that makes sense. You would show up to his races and support him but you weren’t really the first one to be on camera. He always respected that but didn’t want you to feel left out.

[sallytwo]

MOUNTAINHEAD ANALYSIS ⛰️

Preface: I know this album was inspired by Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher, that the concept of digging a giant pit and living in a hole to build up a mountain that no one ever gets to see the top of is a very heavy-handed metaphor for late stage capitalism. Everything Everything has dealt a lot with the concepts of modern lonliness and isolation and disconnect before but holy shit do they hit the ball out of the park with this one. The way it slowly builds, the realization that the mountain is a lie, the growing bitterness and resentment but being resigned to not being do anything about it. It's absolutely phenomenal and a lot more direct than any of their previous concept albums.

"IT ALL MADE SENSE."

When End of the Contender dropped it was an instant favorite for me, with the theme of a whole generation of people who used to be well-respected and important who are now past their prime and don't know how they got here. Still feeling big and important when the world has left them behind.

This wasn't just EoTC though. The entire album dives into misplaced nostalgia, longing for the "good old days" and wanting that back. You see it all the time in real life, the idealization of the 50's and 80's and 90's, purposely misremembering all the terrible things that happened then. Because yes late-stage capitalism is awful but instead of tackling the route issue of that, we can just reminisce on "wasn't it great when you could buy a house?" "remember how good the music/fashion/TV was 20 years ago?" The issue isn't isn't capitalism, it's just the modern era.

Rather than do anything productive to change things, the album is stuck in a glorified past.

2. "MAYBE I'LL GO MISSING IN THE RAIN"

So it's been a scam all along, there's no glory on top of the mountain and building it has all been a waste. This one thing that you looked up to that to and placed your faith in has betrayed you.

You did everything right, you followed all the rules and now it's for nothing. You've wasted your life chasing something that wasn't real. The only thing at the top is a mirror, reflecting your own image back. The mountain is a lie.

What do you do now that you've realized this? Where is there to go?

I joked when Cold Reactor dropped that EE needed to stop making songs about disappearing into the wilderness, but that's what this album is about. There's nothing left for you in modern society, so what do you do? Sell all your belongings, disappear into the woods, disconnect from everything and maybe you'll be happy.

Here's the thing. This doesn't actually happen. It's an empty threat, since this society has left me behind now I get to leave it behind. But you never do! Which leads us to

3. "I STILL WANNA BE THE BEST"

Because even though there's no hope for the future, even though you're a has-been and your glory days are behind you, you still think you can get it back. You'll be famous again, and powerful, and everyone will know your name. It all links back to EoTC

As long as there's still a chance to make it, no one will ever leave. Falling into old habits, watching the pit grow bigger, because one day maybe you'll be the one at the top of the mountain. There's no change or action, just continuing the drudgery of life for the hope of something better. Too caught up in nostalgia for the past, still thinking that one day you'll be a contender again.

4. "PLEASE CAST LIGHT OVER ME"

But at the end that falls away. On "The Witness" the narrator is left watching the brutality around them, but too disconnected to do anything about it. It ends with a question- what if I had done something? What if I stopped, or went missing in the rain, or did anything to stop this all from happening? What if the pattern was different?

It doesn't matter because it never happened. It all continues, the pit grows, the mountain climbs, nothing happens. So caught up in the promise of the mountain, you never did anything. Even when you knew it was a lie, even after you realized that your life was meaningless, you continued along in this system to keep things moving. You're not going to be a contender again. You won't be famous and powerful, the wistful summers you fondly reminisce on aren't coming back. You're not going to go missing in the rain. The mountain continues to grow, and you continue to live in the pit.

[melbatron5000]

Sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost

The record album covers from Maggie's shop have been confounding me for a couple months now. They are JAM PACKED with Clues.

A couple of them I think I have figured out. A couple of them I think are pointing us towards something, like a trail of breadcumbs frozen peas.

Some of them are just making me nuts.

There are repeating themes on the album covers, and I started sorting them into categories based on their themes. But let me tell you about the first theme I noticed right away. I call it the "sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost" theme.

Right off the bat, what the fuck?? Sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost. Who? What? When does any of this happen in the show? And why is it the biggest category of albums?

Let me show you:

Antoine Balynska: It's Been a Long Night. Song titles: I can't wait to take my shoes off/Slip into the bath/Read a good book/Have a watery nap/Grab my jammies/Curl up in bed/Press my head into the pillow/Fall asleep forever

Colors: Black, gray, pink, green. Crowley, shades of gray, God, Hell?

Theme: Sleepy.

Okay, great. Some weird song titles on an Amazon extra. Whatever. Except:

Hamid Moon: Sea Songs. Song titles: One day I started floating/Got lost in the waves/Didn't bring a paddle/Been here for three weeks/Can't see land/There's little hope left

Colors: Soft blue, tan, brown, burnt orange. Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale, secret Crowley?

Theme: Lost

Okay, the first one involved being sleepy, the second, being lost. Where are you going, Mel? Stay with me.

Izabelle McLaughlin: Singing in My Sleep. No song titles.

Colors: Black, gray, neon pink. Crowley, shades of gray, Heavenly miracles?

Theme: Sleepy.

Wasn't someone singing in their sleep? We assume Gabriel, but no name is actually said, and I'm not so sure. Don't ask me who it is, I don't know yet, but I don't think it's Gabriel. So, a second album featuring sleepy. Big whoop, right?

Oslo Revival: Come on Over to Our Third Floor Apartment. Song titles: We're having a party/Just for you/Four in a bed/Have this drink/It doesn't taste weird/We'll take care of you/We love you/You're one of us now/Together forever.

Colors: Black, white, gray, red, yellow, green, blue, auburn, purple, pink. Crowley, Heaven, shades of gray, Crowley, Crowley, Hell, Aziraphale, Crowley, Hellish miracles, Heavenly miracles?

Theme: Drugged, lost?

What the sweet Frances MacDormand??? What kind of song titles are these? Someone came up with these, deliberately, and then they got put in the Amazon extras. Why??

And Mel, what have you put in my drink? Where are you taking me?

Onward:

Raga Koboj: Earth, Swallow Me Whole. Song titles: Why can't I just stay in bed?/Sighing loudly/No one's going to lunch/I'm hungry but I don't want to eat alone/I wonder what's on the menu today/Probably something mediocre/I'm tired/It's Friday/I wish it would end

Colors: Black, blue. Crowley, Aziraphale?

Theme: Sleepy, hungry

Again, what the heck is going on here? Although now we have some overlap between sleepy/hungry. Still, though, what does this have to do with Good Omens??

There's more:

Randa Ransom: I'm Lost and I Don't Speak the Language. Song titles: Lost in Tokyo/What's that shop selling?/Sex dolls (self-assembly)/Where's the bathroom?/This toilet is singing/More sex dolls/There's a cafe for cats/I want to go home/What's home in Japanese?/Take me anywhere, taxi man.

Colors: Green, purple, red, neon pink. Hell, hellish miracles, Crowley, God?

Theme: Lost.

So here's another album involving being lost. Not hungry or sleepy. I'm still super confused about what's going on here. You? Great, let's keep going.

Rat Keith: Look at This Mountain. Song titles: The Mountain I Climbed/Assorted Wailing Chants of Peril/I Ate Some Berries (Shouldn't Have Done That)/What Happens on the Mountain, Stays on the Mountain/I See it in My Dreams/Soiled Leaves and Soft Bark/Don't Touch the Mushrooms/Huddle for Warmth/My Map Blew Away/This is My Home Now/Finally Rescued

Colors: Black, burnt orange, blue, purple. Crowley, secret Crowley, Aziraphale, Hellish miracles?

Theme: Drugged, lost, hungry.

With me so far? Good, me neither. One more:

Rehan Yu: Neon Dreams 2.0. Song Titles: Late Night Madness/Last Orders/Stumbling/The Night Tube/Falling Asleep/Waking Up in Vauxhall/The Night Tube (remix)/Giving Up at Wood Gree/Walking Alone/I Dropped My Phone/Shitty Kebab/Restless Sleep in a Bush

Colors: Black, white, red, blue, purple, neon pink. Crowley, Heaven, Crowley, Aziraphale, Hellish miracles, Heavenly miracles?

Theme: Sleepy, hungry, drugged (drunk), lost. There's the whole thing connecting all the other threads.

Did I say "connecting??" What the hell could the connection here possibly be?

The only thing I can think of right now is my theory about the missing scenes -- that there should be scenes opposite The Resurrectionists scenes, but they're missing. It's the only spot I can think of where someone -- Crowley -- gets drugged. So given the missing scenes should be parallels, Crowley drugs someone? Fucking WHO??

Whoever it is they've got in the bookstore, who isn't "you know who" any longer and was singing in his sleep? In both those instances, we assume Crowley and Aziraphale are talking about Gabriel, but I don't think so.

Is it Jesus 2.0? Except I suspect Nina is Jesus 2.0. Is it fucking GOD?? I know God is voiced by a woman, but let's let go of genders for a moment and remember God is often thought of and described in Christian mythology as not really any one gender. And given the Izabelle McLaughlin album, black and pink, titled "Singing in My Sleep," I think it might indeed be God. Though how Crowley might have drugged Her, I have zero idea. Does it have something to do with the 25 Lazarii miracle? Still, how could even that potent a miracle fuck with GOD?? What about someone else? Could it be Adam? Why would they kidnap Adam and drug him? Is it someone else ENTIRELY??

I will add that while I have black interpreted as a Crowley color here, it also seems to represent hiding and secrets throughout the show. And there is more than one person in the show with a black outfit and a pink accent piece. I feel like God's floating around somewhere, more present than we think.

I've also got purple interpreted as Hellish miracles -- but Gabriel's eyes are purple, too. Are those two things different shades of purple? I'm not even sure. It's kind of hard to tell. So take my color interpretations with a hefty grain of salt.

And frankly, I could be dead ass wrong about ALL of this. I could be overlapping categories that I'm putting the albums into -- sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost; only Neon Dreams 2.0 fits all four. That inspired me to put all these albums in the same category, but it's possible they don't go together. Maybe the sleepy albums all go in one category, and the lost albums all go in another. I don't know for sure. Perhaps they spider out from Neon Dreams 2.0? I don't know what that would mean.

But I feel like I'm onto SOMETHING. I'm going to keep poking until I find out exactly what.

[astrronomemes]

SLEEPING AT LAST: ENNEAGRAM STARTERS

a collection of lyrics from the Sleeping at Last Enneagram album. change & alter as needed.

“I believe that we can fix this.”

“I’m not saying ‘perfect’ exists in this life, but we’ll only know for certain if we try.”

“The list goes on forever of all the ways I could be better.”

“Sweetheart, you look a little tired. When did you last eat?”

“Come in and make yourself right at home. Stay as long as you need.”

“Tell me, is something wrong? If something’s wrong, you can count on me.”

“You know I’ll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat.”

“I will love you with every single thing I have.”

“I will love you without any strings attached.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about myself.”

“Tell me where it hurts.”

“I just want to build you up until you’re good as new.”

“Maybe, one day, I will get around to fixing myself, too.”

“I just want to love you and love you and love you well. I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself.”

“Maybe I’ve done enough.”

“This trophy isn’t real love. And with or without it, I’m good enough.”

“I finally see myself through the eyes of no one else.”

“I’m turning out the lights to remember how to see.”

“What if we already are who we’ve been dying to become?”

“I want to watch the universe expand. I want to break it into pieces small enough to understand.”

“I can’t put my mind to rest.”

“A white flag waves in the dark between my head and my heart.”

“Oh, god, I’m so tired of being afraid.”

“What would it feel like, to put this baggage down? If I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’d know how.”

“Maybe I’m stronger than I realize.”

“Trust that there will be light always waiting behind even the darkest of nights.”

“We’ll be okay. Don’t be afraid.”

“How nice it’d be if we could try everything.”

“I’m serious. Let’s make a list, and just begin.”

“Let’s climb this mountain before we cross that bridge.”

“It costs farewell tears for a welcome-home parade.”

“I’ll find the silver lining, no matter what the price.”

“It feels like I’m sinking when I’m standing in one place.”

“I’ve learned to travel light.”

“Tomorrow will be beautiful.”

“I grew up too quick.”

“I won’t let you in. I swore, never again.”

“I want to break these bones until they’re better.”

“All I want is to trust you.”

“I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut.”

“I am strong enough to let you in.”

“I’ve been less than half of myself for more than half of my life.”

“There’s so much worth fighting for. You’ll see.”

“I’m just trying to find myself through someone else’s eyes.”

“How do I forgive myself for losing so much time?”

“We were born to try.”

[nicolascageisagoth]

40 years 🔨Construction Time Again

The third studio album by Depeche Mode was released on 22 August 1983 contained singles "Everything counts" and "Love, in itself"

This was the image that I wanted as the album sleeve" Brian Griffin

"This became the sleeve"

We took the sledgehammer to Switzerland from Rotherhithe London

Back cover image

Alternative off-shot for the back cover of the album. We took the cable car then climbed further up the mountain with our lights and cameras

"One of my favorite shots that was never used. Propaganda and Social realism to the fore" comments Brian Griffin on his web site, the author of the photos

This shot was used for the single "Love In Itself"

And a bonus photo which was lost for 30 years