#i did succeed in making him vote but did not succeed in hooking up with him and honestly

[mylittleredgirl]

in order to contribute to a conversation i just tried to figure out what i was doing 10 years ago, and apparently what i was doing was making a dress out of the oregon ballot measures booklet so i could go to work dressed up as a patriotic cheerleader with glow-stick batons to remind people to vote

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

[effei-s]

anderson and his paradox:

about the duality of a man.

(aka see me rambling in this 1500-words long essay about how much i love him)

the first half of his paradox: he’s more than capable of love. i would even dare to say that love is a driving force behind 99% of his actions.

let’s look at examples:

adam’s mom (aurora):

i’ve said it before, i’ll say it again: he worshiped the ground she walked on. it’s a fact. it’s what adam said about him in unravel me: i know he loved my mom. it was always her, everything was about her.

her death was probably the worst thing that happened to him, the loss that made him truly suffer, hence him constantly talking about how he wants to shield warner from it. that whole thing with lena is not about control itself, it’s about warner not making his own mistakes. there’s a genuine desire to protect there.

evie:

considering how little information is given about them it’s honestly amazing how much there lies between the lines (can mafi write everything the way she’s written them, please?).

they’re the perfect example of my favourite type of soulmates. he’s actually second worst person on this planet, because first place is already taken by her. there’s no one who knows him better then her (she knew about adam = she knew about aurora). there’s no one who understands him better than her (them being two vital parts of the RE from the very beginning). it doesn’t matter how much they fight, he trusts her with his life no questions asked: he comes to her before ignite me and asks her to make him immortal. considering evie’s words in defy me about how she was ready to kill him for trying to kill juliette in unravel me it was very risky of him (because if there’s one person that could slit open his throat and kill him for good, because he let his guard down, it would be evie). he trusts her to do her job and has no doubts about her capability to succeed. his first reaction to her death is ‘what? it can’t be real!’ because evie for him is almost untouchable entity ‘if they couldn’t hurt me, they sure as hell won’t be able to hurt her’. when he realizes that it’s true he’s terrified.

and anderson doesn’t do terrified.

/i really don’t know what can scream LOVE louder than this/

warner:

we can’t not talk about warner here.

warner betrays him and he still saves warner life. you need to remember that the only reason why warner is still alive in defy me, after he committed treason, is because anderson protects him.

by that time in restore me/defy me anderson, who technically lost his position as a supreme, still managed to save warner’s life /because he’s cool like that/.

“I had to call in a number of favors to have you transported here unharmed. The council was going to vote to have you executed for treason, and I was able to convince them otherwise.”

even evie doesn’t dare to fuck with warner because she knows anderson will come at them with the wrath of god.

“If Aaron were anyone else’s son,” she says, “I would’ve had him executed. I’d have him executed right now, if I could. Unfortunately, I alone do not have the authority.”

anyone else’s son.

so yeah the problem here is not that warner is one of the heirs of the RE. the problem here is that he’s anderson’s son.

plus his entire conflict with juliette is rooted in the fact that she

a) tried to hurt warner

unravel me:

I cannot allow him to protect a person who has attempted to kill him.

restore me:

The monster we’ve bred has tried to kill my own son.

b) tried to take warner from him.

restore me:

Worse, she’s become a distraction for Aaron. He’s become—in a toxic turn of events—impossibly drawn to her, with no apparent regard for his own safety. I have no idea what she’s done to his mind.

and then in imagine me he declines warner’s offer.

“You would be willing to sacrifice yourself—your youth and your health and your entire life—to let that damaged, deranged girl continue to walk the earth? Do you even understand what you’re saying? You have every opportunity—all the potential—and you’d be willing to throw it all away? In exchange for what?Do you even know the kind of life to which you’d be sentencing yourself ?”

/i dare you to tell me he didn’t love warner, i dare you/

juliette:

as a cherry on top, there’s juliette, of course.

when we’re talking about hate we’re talking about juliette, no questions asked. i truly believe that his hatred for her was stronger than his love for aurora and evie combined. and still what brings him down for good is not hate for her but adoration of her (oh irony, my irony).

after 12 years of hatred, after 12 years of her being ‘the bane of his existence’, he still ended up spending his dying breath to make sure she will be safe.

“I ordered you to remain silent,” he says, glancing back at her. “And I am now ordering you to remain safe, at all costs. Do you hear me, Juliette? Do y—”

“Kill them,” Anderson gasps, blood staining the edges of his lips. “Kill them all. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”

just like defy-me warner, imagine-me juliette survives ONLY because of anderson.

he even apologized to her at one point.

“You know, I realize now that I’ve been too hard on you. I’ve put you through too much. Tested your loyalty perhaps too much. But you and I have a long history, Juliette. And it’s not easy for me to forgive. I certainly don’t forget.”

anderson??? admitting??? that??? what??? he??? did??? was??? wrong???

and not because he needs to get off the hook, but because he actually feels like it was too much???

ALERT THE MASSES, THE WORLD NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!

btw, do my eyes deceive me, or did this ‘not easy to forgive’ mean that he actually already FORGAVE her for trying to kill him?

anyhow if that wasn’t enough look at this:

“What could possibly go wrong?” Anderson asks. “She’s more powerful than any of them, and completely obedient to me. To us. To the movement. You all know as well as I do that she’s proven her loyalty again and again. She’d be able to capture them in a matter of minutes.”

do you see it?

it’s the same thing that happened with evie: no one here is strong enough to hurt her (oh, i can see some PROJECTIONS here happening).

it’s funny how the way Anderson acts is EXACTLY what I expected from Warner. he isn't just talking about how she can do anything, when moment comes he ACTS.

Anderson is guarding Juliette. The same Anderson who’s spent so much of his energy trying to murder her—is now standing in front of her with his arms out, guarding her with his life.

i’d still prefer for her or him to kill ibrahim but even without it... he says you can burn this place to the ground, I don’t care as long as you’re safe, he chooses her over not only the RE, he chooses her over WARNER.

/and you expect me not to ship this??? sure, jen, i’m not gonna/

conclusion number 1: yes, my beautiful people, everything Anderson does in one way or another tied to love.

the second half of his paradox: love doesn’t make him a better person, it doesn’t even make him fully human. you’d think that if person capable of such strong feelings there’s supposed to be something worth saving, just like castle’s said:

“Of course he’s a regular person, son. That’s exactly the point. We’re all just regular people, when you strip us down. There’s nothing to be afraid of when you look at Anderson; he’s just as human as you or me. Just as terrified. And I’m sure if he could go back and do his life over again, he’d make very different decisions.”

(castle is a fucking idiot, never listen to people like him or you’re gonna end up neck-deep in shit)

but at the end of the day anderson remains a fucking monster.

his love for aurora doesn’t stop him from marrying another woman and having a child with her because it’s the easiest way to social climb.

his love and devotion to evie and re (mostly evie, because evie is the reestablishment) doesn’t stop him from playing games with juliette and putting everything and everyone at risk just because he’s bored.

i won’t even start commenting on warner’s situation, because otherwise we’re gonna sit here for days and i’ll end up with 100k words essay about them.

and even his enamourment with juliette doesn’t actually protect her from his violent nature. even this perfect, absolutely perfect juliette still has to prove herself (cut off her finger to show her loyalty). it still very easy for him to hurt her.

conclusion number 2: him being in love, him caring about someone, him trusting someone doesn’t change his fundamental nature. he still remains a destructive force put into a human body.

he’s a fucking satan.

and that’s exactly why i love him.

[owo-shenanigans]

So I'd like to make a request if you okay about it. Can i request something like a headcanons with yours fav male characters, from any Danganronpa game you want, and how they Will react to their s/o being a mastermind(or blackened)?

Of course! This was an absolute BLAST to write, though I teared up a few times :’‘) requests are OPEN!

KAZUICHI, GUNDHAM, AND KIIBO WITH A BLACKENED S/O

Word Count: 1.8k

KAZUICHI SOUDA

"No, I have an alibi- I was with Kazuichi!" Your words silenced the others who had begun to gang up on you. The trial was for Sonia's murder. With an unidentified fatal wound on the back of her head, she had been discovered at 7am in the restaurant.

He smiled and nodded, hand in a thumbs up. "Yeah! We were together all night - no way they could have done it!"

At the raised eyebrows from the others, he flushed. "I-I didn't mean-"

At your laugh, he just kept his mouth shut. But your alibi was set in stone.

Half an hour later, you wished you had kept your own mouth shut. Hajime had ripped your alibi to shreds, stating that Kazuichi was a known heavy sleeper- you could have snuck out and back in with him none the wiser.

"But- no, I couldn't have done it-!" You stated desperately, fists clenched. "Where on Earth would I have gotten a baseball bat!? Where could I have-"

Hajime's face at that made you fall silent, a terrible chill falling down your back.

"We never figured out what the murder weapon was, (Y/N)."

You glanced around wildly, but you could see your fate was sealed. Kazuichi's face was the worst one. His eyes were filled with tears, and as he looked at you, you found that you couldn't go on anymore.

"You're right, Hajime. I… I killed Sonia. I sent her a letter asking her to come to the restaurant at 3 in the morning, posing as you. I told her… I told her that I'd found a newspaper article about her country, and that I thought she should read it. When she arrived… She never saw my face. I snuck up behind her and… That's it."

You gripped your podium, hands shaking at the sounds of Gundham’s hamsters squeaking- almost overshadowing the faint cries from their master.

The votes came in- all but one for you.

The moment you were released from your podiums, Kazuichi dashed over to you, hands gripping yours.

"(Y/N), you- you- why? How could you do this to me? To all of us?"

He was choking back sobs, pink hair stuck in the tear tracks down his face. You gently reached out and touched them, and he leaned in to your touch.

"I'm so sorry Kazuichi. But they… What I saw… I knew I had to get off the island. I couldn't live without knowing the motive was fake."

Monokuma giggled in his obnoxiously high pitched voice.

"But now you'll never know, because it's PUNISHMENT TIME!"

Choking back your own sobs, you gave Kazuichi one last hug, one last desperate kiss.

"Get off this island. Get off this island for me."

The collar came and snapped around your neck, tearing you apart from him forever.

GUNDHAM TANAKA

"Mahiru was always hanging around you, Beta Bitch! I bet you killed her because you knew you would never be as kind as her, or as sweet as her, or as… as… WAAAAAAAAH!"

Hiyoko let out an ear splitting wail, as you started to try and defend yourself. But before you let out a word, the man across from you spoke up.

"Silence, Sea Urchin! For I was with thy darkness at the time of the crime. We were supplying sustenance to the caged creatures. They could not have hurt the now deceased."

You couldn't help smiling at his wordy, yet correct response. "We were feeding the animals at the farm," you translated. "And he would have seen me leaving, as there's only one exit. The whole place is surrounded by a fence, after all."

Hajime, who seemed to be leading the trial, nodded at that, and the discussion moved on. Once everyone's eyes were off you, you let out a sigh of relief.

There. Your alibi was safe. You were safe. You could- you could go home, and make sure that the video was lying.

Unnoticed by you, a little girl in blonde pigtails was staring at you. And she had a scowl on her face.

Half an hour later, everyone had gone around in circles three times. Nagito was doing his usual obscuration of the investigation. Not that you were complaining.

Wiping the sweat off your brow, you didn't hear what Hiyoko said through your rushing blood.

"So, I know you idiots let Beta Bitch off the hook because she couldn't have left the farm, but are you all ignoring the giant hole in their stupid argument?"

Everyone zeroed in on Hiyoko, who paled a moment before tossing her head.

"There's a literal hole in their argument."

"I agree with that!" Hajime shouted. "There's a little hole in the fence, right next to the hotel."

You had snapped back in at this point, hands shaking.

"But- there's also a- a fence around the hotel! I couldn't get thro-"

"That's wrong!" He shouted again, and you've never hated him more than in this moment. "Yes, there is a fence, but you didn't have to go through- not with the murder weapon you chose. With a relic sword from the library, all you had to do was stab through the fence."

"I found hay on the sword…. I think." Chiaki interjected. "I guess you hid the sword in the animal food until Gundham wasn't looking…. And then you left through the hole in the fence…."

From there, they tore apart your alibi, destroyed any chance you had of leaving the island.

But the look on Gundham’s face dried up any arguments you had. Every time you opened your mouth, his Deva's chitted at you, quiet and yet louder than Hajime's closing argument.

The votes came in- every single person had voted for you, except a lone two against Hajime. Hajime didn't even have the decency to appear offended by the votes, his expression pained as he stared at you.

"It was the motive video." You confessed, and you shut your eyes to keep out the sight of them all staring. "I had- I had to go home. I had to make sure it was fake. I knew it couldn't be real, because- because-"

Gundham took your hand gently and you broke down into his arms. Clutching at him like a lifeline, you sobbed out the rest of your story.

"I'm so, so sorry, Gundham. I never should have used you. The video isn't an excuse." You let out a watery chuckle. "None of you fell for it, did you?"

Pulling your motive video out, you tucked it into Gundham's jacket. "Check for me, will you? Make sure… make sure it's not true."

"Sweetne-" he started, but Monokuma interrupted with a feral grin.

"Real or fake, now you'll never know, because it's PUNISHMENT TIME!"

Monokuma tore you from Gundham, your watery smile the last he ever saw of you.

KIIBO

"Sorry, Shuichi, but I couldn't have done it." You shrugged at his accusation, internally sweating enough to fill a pool.

"I was with Kiibo at the time; I couldn't have left the kitchen without him seeing me."

"And I didn't see them leave the kitchen, let alone the dining room." Kiibo stated this almost proudly, and you had to fight off a wave of affection for the man. You couldn't doubt yourself- not now. Not when you had already done what you did. There was no going back.

"I couldn't have killed Kokichi."

At your words, everyone glanced at the portrait of the boy. None of them had liked him, sure, and he had screwed with them through the trials… but some of the things he said held the hidden piece necessary to understand the plot.

You shifted in your podium- his photographed eyes almost seemed to be following you. Kiibo caught your hand and squeezed it, offering a smile to you. Giving a tremulous smile in turn, you tried to calm your heart rate.

An hour later, you were shaking all over.

"You said your alibi was Kiibo, but Miu said THIS-" and he held up an electronic device- "was missing from her lab. It went missing this morning, and was found in the back of the kitchen cupboard. And the kitchen clock was a few minutes off. My theory? You set off a pulse to turn Kiibo off, which accidentally turned off the clock as well. You left the dining room, entered the warehouse, and strangled Kokichi."

You gulped loudly, the sound echoing in your head. Glancing around wildly, you were met with people convinced of your guilt. Turning to your right, you saw Kiibo- and you knew in that moment that if he were able to cry, he would be sobbing.

The look on his face made you give up.

"(Y/N).... It's not…. It's not true, is it?"

You looked down at your podium, your lack of an answer an answer nonetheless.

The votes came in, every single vote going your way. Even Kiibo, huh? Not like you didn't deserve it.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you spoke.

"I…. I just had to get out of here. I was going crazy. All the- all the death, the executions- I knew I was going to be next! So I…. I went to the warehouse. I was psyching myself out, by that point. But then…. Then Kokichi-

"He kept taunting me. Saying that- that he knew someone was planning to kill me, and that I was so weak and pathetic that they'd succeed and I-!

"I strangled him. I came back to myself with the rope wrapped around his neck, and he wasn't responding! I came back to the kitchen and…. And I hid the electronic in the back of the drawer. And that's it. That's how I killed Kokichi Oma."

You risked a glance over at Kiibo, and your heart sank. He was merely staring at you, no emotion on his face.

"For what it's worth… I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kiibo. I shouldn't have used you for my alibi."

Drawing in a breath, you choked on it when he pulled you into a hug. Pulling back, he touched his forehead to yours, your hands clutched in his.

"My inner voice is wrong. I…. I'll escape. I'll escape for you, (Y/N). I promise. I swear to you."

You let out a half sob, but you couldn't stop a final smile at how pure hearted he was.

"Don't… don't make the same mistake I did. Defeat whoever trapped us in here. Escape… escape without destroying yourself in the process, my dearest Kiibo."

"Oh, how heartwarming." Monokuma crooned in his high pitched voice. "You'll be warm enough in a whole lot of other places soon, because it's PUNISHMENT TIME!"

The collar snapped around your neck and tore you from his hands. He reached out to you desperately, but it was too late.

[frienderbender]

Rikki - 5, 9; Nikki - 12, 16; and Melm - 4, 14?

RIKKI

fear headcanon

he’s really not scared of anything people are usually afraid of like bugs or heights or whatever. to the point it’s almost a point of pride for him, but he is fearful of what comes after death. though he doesn’t consider himself religious anymore he is a little afraid, in the deepest corners of his mind, that he’s going to hell. he worries what awaits him when it’s all over.

childhood headcanon

rikki was the kid who did a bunch of extracurriculars. played sports and did theatre and was on the student council and all that shit. very popular. did well in school. him and his high school gf were voted cutest couple and rikki himself was “most likely to succeed” lmao

NIKKI

friendship headcanon

nikki doesn’t really have a lot of people she would consider best friends, honestly? she knows plenty of people, even goes out and does stuff with them, but she doesn’t necessarily think of them as her bffs. she can just have a hard time showing her true self to people so she tends to keep a lot of them at arm’s length. there’s some people she genuinely loves, though. :] and yes she does consider rikki her best friend.

appearance headcanon

nikki and rikki were both drunk when they got their matching name tattoos but thankfully when they sobered up they didn’t mind. they kinda laughed about it honestly. this was like. PEAK honeymoon phase. so stupidly ridiculously in love. anyway she’s considering getting more tattoos eventually. just as soon as her dad stops shaking his head in disappointment over the first one.

MELMORD

angry headcanon

i definitely feel like he tries to play off his anger a lot of the time because it tends to make him appear more personable. when he is like. genuinely filled with rage though i feel like he’s one of those people whose faces get really red. completely flushed.

romance headcanon

i feel like despite having hooked up with countless people, he really doesn’t have a lot of experience with dating people longterm. sure, he’s had some boyfriends and girlfriends here and there but they never lasted that long or left too much of an impact. i think because of that he finds himself a little intimidated by something like marriage but ultimately i think he really would like to settle down eventually. he doesn’t believe in the concept of “the one” but rikki meanwhile is like. sobbing into his hands over a picture of nikki.

[thepancakeboi]

92. “I vote today be a pajama day.”

Sunlight streaming into the room is what wakes me up this morning. Normally, I would have been awake much earlier. Today is an exception, as I blearily remember. I rub my eyes with one hand to try and wipe away the excessive moisture. My other arm is still trapped within the comforting embrace of the person next to me. I turn my head as I sense them shifting positions. I’m met with the slate-gray eyes of my boyfriend peeking out from under his mess of tousled black hair. Ren’s gaze is unfocused as if he just woke up from hibernation. My stirring must have woken him up. He would sleep until noon if I gave him the opportunity. “Oh, good morning, sleepyhead,” I say. I can’t help but laugh as he yawns in response, not quite awake enough to reply adequately. “Did you sleep well?”

I can tell the moment he’s truly awake because his face immediately brightens up as if my presence alone is enough to make him happy. It still shocks me. “Mhmm...though I always do when you’re here.”

...I envy how easily he sleeps.

Ren moves to check his phone for a second. He looks confused at me for a brief moment before that happy expression from earlier reappears. He looks giddy as he says, “You have today off, don’t you?”

That’s right. It’s such a rarity to have the whole day free to do as I please. “Sae-san may have suggested I take the day off,” I reply noncommittally. 

“Suggested?”

“Okay, she forced me.” If it had been up to me, I would have worked today. Sae-san can be...quite stubborn, to say the least. She didn’t take no for an answer. It’s the only reason why I’m still here in bed rather than on the subway mentally preparing for the day. Ren chuckles knowingly at this. My tone is somewhat irritable as I ask, “What?”

“I’m glad.”

“You’re glad she refused to let me work today?”

“Yeah.” His expression is now deceptively indifferent. “I miss you when you’re at work.”

“You’re so damn impatient.”

“Am I not allowed to miss the one I love?”

“And sentimental.”

“But you love me.” That smug little smirk peeks through his neutral facade. I huff in annoyance, refusing to give him an answer simply out of spite. He knows the answer anyway. “So does this mean I can spend the day with you?”

“I suppose so. We should go somewhere together,” I say as I move to get out of bed. I’ve stayed here long enough. However, I run into some unexpected resistance in the form of Ren still holding onto me. Figures. He refuses to let go. “What now?” I ask, a bit of annoyance seeping into my voice.

“Why can’t we just stay here?”

The look on his face is so sad it’s almost pitiable. The corners of his lips curl down; combined with the eyes pleading up at me, his expression can almost be considered a pout. It has little effect. “How about we go to the arcade? It could be quite enjoyable.”

He immediately shakes his head at my suggestion. “No. I vote today be a pajama day.”

Pajama day? “What are you talking about?”

“Pajama day! It’s where you stay at home all day in your pajamas and just relax.”

“What’s the point in such a ridiculous day?” I roll my eyes while shaking my head. Of course, he would enjoy a foolish idea like that. Why wouldn’t he? Ren’s been doggedly persistent in his attempts to convince me to dress casually for a change of pace. He has yet to succeed.

“Because it’ll get you to stay here. With me.”

“You do realize we don’t have to stay at home to be with each other, yes?”

It takes him a moment to respond. “Yeah...but I want to cuddle.”

And there is the ulterior motive: Ren wants to cuddle. I’m not surprised. His desire to give physical affection is almost akin to an addiction. I’m not about to admit that he has me hooked, too. “Is that why you’re declaring it pajama day?”

“Yup!”

As honest as ever. I can’t help but wonder what the appeal to this pajama day is. There’s only one way to find out. “Very well.”

“Huh?” It’s rare to see him so surprised. I take it as a personal victory.

“Let’s have a pajama day. You better not disappoint.”

I know I am not imagining the mischievous smirk on Ren’s face as he replies, “Trust me. I won’t.”

Prompt list

[somedayonbroadway]

I am literally begging you to tell me about the Psych AU???

(Just to be clear this will be set in the fantasy land where all cops are trying their best to be good all the time. Thank you!)

So Psych was actually probably my favorite show for a lot of my life so I am pretty excited about this one. For those of you that haven’t seen the show, go watch it. It’s on Peacock and I believe it’s still on Amazon Prime. Definitely it’s at its best in the first three seasons, but it never ceases to be funny. However, I enjoy the first season a lot more because of how smart they portray Shawn without having him also be, for lack of a better word, an idiot. Shawn is incredibly smart and his humor and charisma highlighted that instead of hiding it and I miss that in the later seasons, but it is still a really funny show and I do recommend it.

Anyways, enough of me ranting.

Just to be clear, it could work with either Jack or Race as Shawn, and if you would like to see this AU the other way, just let me know!

Psych AU

Characters

Racetrack Higgins — Shawn Spencer

Albert DaSilva — Burton Guster

Jack Kelly — Henry Spencer

Spot Conlon — Juliet O’Hara

David Jacobs — Carlton Lassiter

Medda Larkin — Chief Karen Vick

Racetrack Higgins (Shawn Spencer)

Tyler James Kelly had never had an easy life, with his drunk father or absent mother who had him on accident with a man she barely knew

His father had named him Anthony Higgins

When he’s six all of that changes when his half brother takes him in, against his father’s wishes.

Jack renames him Tyler James Kelly.

Race didn’t know Jack all too well back then. But he looked up to him, even if he’d refuse to admit it later.

Jack is eighteen and just starting out as a beat cop. But Jack’s father had been training him to be a good cop his whole life. Right up till he died.

Race never knew what a parent was supposed to look like. So when Jack began to test and train him, he didn’t think anything of it.

Race has a eidetic memory and Jack knows it even if his baby brother refuses to acknowledge it

The kid is hyper observant and quick witted which often can lead him into trouble though he describes it as being useful stay one step ahead intellectually while being one step behind physically

Was born two months too early and has always been pretty thin and small

Loves classic movies and television shows and often references them

Is wickedly smart and clever, resulting in him graduating high school three years early and leaving New York to travel the country

Growing up he’s best friends with his next door neighbor, Albert DaSilva, who he relies on constantly as he has a fear of abandonment

While growing up with Jack, Race finds himself somewhat resenting his brother who constantly pushes him to be more and do more and get better. He explains that Jack never let him just be a kid, and never lets Jack explain why he has him memorize how many hats are in the room and learn how killers and criminals operate

When he’s fifteen he takes the detective’s exam and gets a perfect score but refuses to go into law enforcement, instead chooses to leave Jack behind, illegally, and travel around the country on a bike he wins in a poker game with a bunch of old men who think he’s no threat.

When he’s eighteen, he inevitably ends up back in Manhattan.

After not speaking with Jack for three years, he has no idea if he’s still even there and is terrified to face him, feeling bad about running away and not knowing if Jack will forgive him.

He gets his own apartment, taking odd jobs around town to make ends meet

He starts going by Anthony Higgins again, but most of his friends just call him Race, a nickname he got from Albert when they were very young

Albert is the only one who knows when Race is back in town and Race makes him swear not to tell Jack.

Race often spends his nights watching the news, calling in tips to the police whenever he figures out a crime that they can’t.

Eventually this leads him to getting arrested before he even turns nineteen, as the police suspect he’s an inside man

In order to get out of this, he tells a lie that he believes will be a one time thing.

He makes the cops believe he is psychic.

Things spiral out of control from there.

After making the majority of the station believe he has the gift (all except for one skeptic who happens to be head detective) he thinks they’re going to let him off the hook.

He has no idea the chief of police is going to ask for his help

Actually excited by the idea, Race runs to Albert’s school and begs him to help him out. Albert is reluctant at first but eventually agrees

Race and Al go out investigating as private detectives until Race figures out the case, leading them straight to the suspect who turns out to be dead.

With nowhere else to turn, Race goes back to his brother, a brilliant detective who got injured in the line of duty and retired early, for help

Jack isn’t even shocked to see him. He’s not surprised, he’s not happy and he’s not angry. It makes Race mad.

Jack takes Race out to lunch where he lets Race talk and tells him that he’s the ultimate disappointment because Jack told Race all growing up how much he hated private detectives and psychics. But ultimately, he helps Race out anyway

This leads to Race solving the case and getting recognition for it. Jack keeps his secret and is even secretly proud of him

The happiness he feels at that convinces Race to open up his own agency with Albert

Throughout their journey as detectives, Race ends up falling for a junior detective, a transfer from Brooklyn who is a partner to the skeptic head detective, David Jacob, his brother’s former partner and best friend.

Spot, the Junior detective, often flirts with Race and leads him on, but they don’t start a relationship until five years later.

Race is faced with countless situations where he becomes a target for serial killers and criminals who come after his and his friends and family.

Race gets shot and kidnapped at one point.

He and Albert get held captive constantly and The Yin Yang killer, a serial killer who had been messing with the department for years, takes a special interest in him, causing his current boyfriend to be nearly drowned, Spot to be nearly dropped from a clock tower, Jack to be nearly blown up and he and Albert to be nearly poisoned.

Despite only telling this lie to get out of going to jail for a crime he did not commit, he ends up sticking with it and finding his purpose in life was to help others instead of help himself and loves it

Albert DaSilva (Bruton Gaster)

Grows up with a good life.

His mother died when he was really young, not even a year old, and he lived with his father and two much older brothers who spoiled him and loved him.

Albert was always smart. He was always smart in different ways than Race was and enjoyed learning and gaining better understandings of things

When he was young, he wanted to become an astronomer. He always loved the planets and the stars.

While being academically advanced, he knew that graduating with Race was not the best option for him as he used to doubt himself when Race wasn’t around to tell him how much he needed him

As a child he applied for a school for advanced students, which he was accepted into. His father refused to send him on account of wanting him to be a kid which Albert never truly liked being

His father never did appreciate the influence that Race had on his son, but allowed it in order to let Albert be a kid because he knew Albert needed it

Albert loved academic activities growing up and had nearly won a national spelling bee that Race botched for him. After learning this, Albert is angry with Race and realizes his friend’s need for him as Race eventually admits he was scared his only friend was going to leave him

Albert is very independent and enjoys doing things on his own, much to Race’s dismay

Al was voted most likely to succeed in high school

When Race runs away, Albert knows about it and tries to stop him, but believes Race will get nervous and come back

When that doesn’t happen, Albert is too embarrassed and scared to tell anyone so he lets Race go, feeling abandonment for the first and possibly only time in his life and he’s always secretly a little angry with Race for leaving

Albert goes to college right out of high school and studied medicine, wanting to become a doctor

When Race comes back into town, he ends up missing a lot of classes and barely manages to stay ahead in school

He still works towards becoming a doctor, which often helps with solving crimes

After finding out he does not like the sight of blood and dead bodies, he switches to forensics which also helps with a lot of investigations

Albert’s oldest brother is a rocket scientist at NASA and his other brother is an engineer

He constantly feels as though he’s trying to catch up and be just as accomplished as his brothers

Albert was pep captain in high school in attempts to be popular. While he did have more friends than Race, he didn’t accomplish actually being popular, but hanging around so many girls turned him into somewhat of a ladies man

During his senior year spring break, Albert, who’s already eighteen, heads down to Mexico with some friends but ends up meeting a girl. He gets drunk and marries her before leaving and never speaking of it again, not seeing the girl until years later when she is getting remarried.

After helping Race on his first case, Albert finds he had a knack for assisting his friend in crime fighting and, though often gives Race a hard time about it and complains, genuinely enjoys helping

Is very protective of his car that his father pays for, affectionately named the Blueberry by Race who picks up the name from a stuck up client

Albert knows Race better than Race knows himself and is sometimes the only thing actually keeping him from chaotically causing his own accidental death, despite Jack’s best efforts.

He has a very refined sense of smell

Grew up catholic and believes in demonic possessions and exorcisms

In an attempt to be cool when he was younger, Albert learned how to pick locks and crack safes

Is often given ridiculous nicknames by his best friend while they’re out solving cases, just for fun. He just rolls with them typically.

He joined an a capella group in college because he knew how to sing and was curious as to what it would be like. Race always finds it entertaining.

Is an experienced tap dancer

Has trouble doing things that are more on the dangerous side while Race doesn’t mind jumping in head first just to see what will happen.

Albert’s father is very protective of him and, even when he’s being accused of murder, tries to constantly give Race money and have someone babysit and take care of him.

It isn’t until Race sets the record straight that Albert’s dad begins to trust him to take care of Al moving forward.

Albert is the only person Jack trusts with Race for a long time as Race had a history with bullies all growing up and never really wanted any other friends.

Albert becomes like another little brother to Jack and Jack teaches him some street smarts to get him by after Race runs away.

Albert helps take care of Jack after his career ending injury

Albert eventually becomes a forensic scientist and ends up working for the FBI

Jack Kelly (Henry Spencer)

A trouble maker when he was young, the only child of his father, James Francis Kelly Sr. and first born of his mother

When Jack is fifteen his father dies, murdered by a criminal who’d been out on a killing spree.

His father had always wanted Jack to follow in his footsteps and become an officer so, to honor him, Jack does

When Jack was twelve, his mother had had another baby. Jack did not know a lot about this, but after his father died, became very curious.

When asked about the baby, his mother got defensive, so he tracked the kid down on his own, finding him in a neglective home and immediately falling in love with the kid and wanting to protect him.

Although he often shows Race tough love, he genuinely makes it his life goal to keep the boy safe and protected

He renamed Anthony Higgins, Tyler James Kelly, because Anthony was originally named after his father, the man who almost never acknowledged that the kid existed and Jack didn’t want him walking around with that.

Even after Race starts introducing himself as Anthony again, he still calls Race Tyler and Tyler James and his little Tyler James because that’s still Race’s legal name

Jack is a bit of a troubled kid growing up.

He has ADHD

His father helped him channel that into being hyper observant and alert

His mother was a bit of a deadbeat, but Jack still loved her up until she died from lung cancer. He didn’t trust her to look after Race once, instead hiring experienced babysitters and sometimes even taking Race into work with him and having another officer watch him

When he first meets Race, he quickly picks up on the fact that the kid is special and had extraordinary talents and he wants to help Race use them in the best way

Jack is a very protective person, though he normally comes off as slightly intimidating stand-off-ish. He is genuinely friendly and actually is the inspiration behind Race’s sense of humor

Jack raises Race to be the perfect detective, believing he was doing this for Race’s own good as Jack himself is terrified of losing someone else, especially his baby boy who he finds he loves more than anyone else in the world.

While Jack was a bit of a prankster and a fighter growing up, his father explained to him that this was a good thing and would help Jack in the future as he knew how criminals could think

Jack is an artist and loves to paint and draw. It’s his most peaceful activity

He once arrested Race when he was fifteen for “borrowing” a car to impress a girl with Race later reveals he only did to keep the football team from finding out that he was gay

He moves up in the police force quickly, becoming the youngest head detective the department had

He is partnered with David Jacobs who quickly becomes his best friend and eventually replaced Jack as the head detective.

When Race runs away Jack is extremely hurt and goes through a small depression that ultimately makes him lose his focus and gets him into a bad car crash, ending his career as a detective

His knee is shattered and he can’t run as easily as he used to be able to.

Refuses help most of the time and locks himself away from the world until Albert comes knocking on his door

He lets the kid help him out

It is eventually revealed that Jack put a gps tracker in the dog tags that had been his father’s. He’d given them to Race because he convinced the kid they’d keep him safe. He knows where Race is at all times

This is why he’s not surprised when Race is back in town and this is how Jack continues to be able to find Race when Race is in trouble.

When Race is shot and kidnapped, his drops the dog tags and Jack panics because he’s never not been able to find Race and when he does eventually find him, he puts the dog tags back around his neck and yells at Race to never take them off again

That’s when Race finds out what Jack did

Jack is Race’s biggest critic and biggest supporter all rolled up into one

While he never truly approves of what Race is doing, he still does his best to help him and protect him as best he can and is always proud of him no matter what he does.

During his time in recovery, Jack sells paints and works on commission, starting his own arti website and becoming a fairly famous artist

When the Yin Yang killer returns to New York, it is revealed that Jack worked the case before but had not been the target of the serial killer.

He is kidnapped by Yang who knows somehow that he’d be unable to run and slightly traumatized him, placing him in a car at a drive in movie with a bomb in his lap

Though he tries to convince everyone that he’s not scared, Race ends up staying with him to comfort him through the nightmares.

After Yin and Yang strikes again, making it even clearer that it’s Racer he’s messing with, Jack accepts a job from the chief of police as a police liaison in attempts to keep Race safe

A few years later, another old case of his comes up and he realizes that the cops who trained him and worked with him were dirty and tampered with his evidence.

He is later shot point blank by one of his old partners and left for dead, but Race, who had followed him, manages to take him to a hospital, saving his life though it was a very close call

After all of this, Jack eventually retires from the police department, no longer respecting the badge as he’d used to and becomes a professor of criminology at the same college Albert attended where he meets Katherine, his future wife

Spot Conlon (Juliet O’Hara)

Sean “Spot” Conlon grew up being around cops a lot.

His father was a crook.

While he knew his father loved him, he also knew that his father was a conman and what he did was wrong.

Growing up, Spot would wake up to receive little gifts on his nightstand and eventually he figured out that his father had been breaking in to leave them for him, taking the window apart and putting it back together without a trace.

Spot loves his father but moves on and grows up to become a cop to stop people like his father from taking advantage of others

He has one older brother, Hot Shot, who is also a criminal, though he is a criminal in the name of the Army which he was trying to protect

Spot does have to arrest his brother but is not shocked to find that his brother escaped

Spot does have a younger brother, Charlie or Crutchie as he’s called by his brother, who he loves very much and tries to preserve as the kid is the only member of his family who is remotely innocent.

Crutchie eventually moves from Brooklyn to Manhattan to be closer to Spot and meets Spot’s friends who he adores.

Charlie is the one who reveals that Jack was one of Spot’s idols. Spot looked up to Jack because Jack was one of the youngest head detectives in the country and was an overall brilliant detective

Spot first meets Race while undercover. The conversation only lasts a few minutes before Race deducts that he is in fact a cop about to make a jump on someone.

Wary of Race at first, Spot keeps his distance. He is skeptical of Race’s “gift” buy after observing him behind to believe his abilities may be real

Upon his transfer to Manhattan to become a detective, Spot is partnered up with Jack Kelly’s old partner David, who is very stand-off-ish and mean at first

Spot and David begin to build a relationship based on trust and become like brothers after a long while

Originally, Spot is not taken very seriously as he’s very young and cares about how he looks. Many of the other cops make fun of him, calling him “pretty boy” and other derogatory names because they all know that he’s gay

David often sticks up for him but doesn’t let Spot thank him.

Spot eventually starts calling Race “pretty boy” as a means to give the words good meaning again

Spot is very good at going undercover for jobs and enjoys getting to be placed in different roles.

Race often tells him that if he hadn’t been a coo he would’ve been a hell of an actor but Spot doesn’t like that because he fears he’s becoming too much like his father

Spot is desperate to succeed in his work and often goes to Jack for advice (I know, they like each other in this one. It’s crazy)

Spot is very competitive and likes to be right.

He often brags about solving cases before others but does not put others down, necessarily, in the process

Though Spot is a bit on the shorter side, he makes up for it with muscle and strength.

When he gets angry, people back off, afraid of what he might do if he decides to take his anger out on them.

Spot is fluent in Spanish, just like Jack, and after Race and he start dating, they often have conversations about Race right in front of him.

After getting kidnapped by Yin, Spot is traumatized to the point of being unable to stay at the station.

He develops a paralyzing fear of heights that’s Race helps him through

Eventually, Spot becomes the head detective in Brooklyn when the chief is transferred there.

David Jacobs (Lassie Face)

David had always had a difficult time with trust

He grew up with a twin sister and a little brother.

His father cheated on their mother and his mother cheated on his father

His sister grew up and left without telling anyone.

His ex wife had cheated on him and left him

Suffice to say that trust didn’t come easy to him.

Growing up, Davey likes the rules and he likes enforcing them. He likes being in charge and he’s good at it.

David loves his younger brother a lot. Les is going to school for film and he loves getting insight about what police actually do. He likes to make documentaries

When David is partnered with the head detective, he’s shocked to find he actually likes Jack

Jack is the first person he truly trusts in a long long time

Jack becomes his best friend and only confidant

As he’s close with Jack, he does meet Race a few times, but when he questions Race about his tips under his old name, he doesn’t know why Race looks so familiar

It isn’t until David sees Race with Jack that he remembers.

Jack lies to David and tells him that Race is a psychic and found out when he was fifteen and that’s why he left even though he knows Davey won’t believe him

David understands and respects that Jack puts his little brother first

But the kid still annoys him

Despite not necessarily getting along with Race, David does everything he can to protect him as a ways to pay Jack back for all the times he’d saved his life

When Jack gets in his accident, David refuses another partner, nervous about not living up to Jack’s reputation.

His first new partner ends up being a girlfriend of his during his separation from his wife. Race outs the affair on accident and the woman is transferred

David and Spot don’t get along at first but Spot quickly shows David that he’s not any junior detective and is really good at what he does

He ends up really liking the kid

After Jack’s accident, David has a hard time going to see him, feeling as though he’d failed the other man somehow.

Eventually, he takes Jack out for a drink where Jack apologizes for screwing up and they have a bonding moment

Eventually, David finds himself infatuated with a suspect in a case he’s working

Though the girl is ultimately guilty, he visits her in prison and eventually marries her

His whole life all he’d wanted was to be the chief of police

Eventually, after Chief Larkin is transferred, his dream comes true.

He and Race manage to become friends and, after receiving a video message from Race, confessing to the fact that he’s not a psychic, he tears the disc out and breaks it, never needing to know how Race did what he did

I absolutely love this one, so if ya’ll wanna see any scenes from it, just let me know!

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

[cricketnovak]

LORENZO ZURZOLO / CISMALE — don’t look now, but is that cricket novak i see? the 21 year old accounting student is in their freshman year and he is a huntington alum. i hear they can be meticulous, determined, destructive and gloomy, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he will make a name for themselves living in griffin street

hullo! it is i, ashley, arriving with my tortured grump, cricket! i’m gonna throw some basics under the read more and hopefully persuade you all to come plot with me  

unlike most of my ocs, cricket had a fantastic childhood !!

he grew up with two loving, supportive parents in an upper middle class neighborhood just outside of huntington beach 

when he was 3 1/2, their happy family grew with the addition of a baby girl; there was no new sibling jealousy to be found in the novak household, he instantly loved lady and swore to always look after her 

around the same age, he found his passion in life: baseball. he took to the sport like breathing and it was obvious by age 10 that he was gonna be snatched up by the pros the moment he graduated high school 

his picture perfect family, natural talent at sports, and charming, carefree spirit appointed him his school’s golden boy 

voted ‘most likely to succeed’ freshman and sophomore year 

would have been junior year too if it wasn’t for The Accident 

a couple weeks into junior year, a huge back-to-school bash was thrown by a fellow popular, which, naturally, meant cricket was expected to attend 

however, he never made it to the party... on his way to the oceanside mansion, a truck ran a red light and slammed into his driver’s side door 

he was told he was lucky to be alive--but with a concussion, dozens of stitches, a dislocated shoulder, and worst of all, a completely shattered left knee, he didn’t feel lucky at all 

despite the doctors best efforts to reconstruct his knee, it was unclear for several weeks if he’d ever be able to walk on that leg again. thanks to massive amounts of metal and physical therapy, he was, thankfully, 

but as much progress as he was making, it was clear his dreams of playing pro baseball were dead. his knee would likely never fully heal, let alone be healthy enough to play sports professionally 

cricket, who had made baseball his entire identity since before he could even remember, did not take the news well 

in fact, he took it decidedly Not Well

he buried the charming, sweet boy he once was along with his hopes and dreams 

by the end of his junior year, he was a parent’s worst nightmare. he partied constantly, disappeared for days, frequented the back of a police car, destroyed anything he could get his hands on, and fell very deep into alcohol dependency 

his parents tried to help him. truly. but when they came home to half their house on fire, lines had to be drawn 

they kicked cricket out in hopes that it would be a wake up call. it wasn’t. he dropped out of high school and moved to vegas where he continued down his self destructive path for over two years 

rock bottom finally came at 20 years old when he woke up in the ER after having his stomach pumped to see a friend of his sister’s had send him a photo of lady at her high school graduation 

he started attending AA meetings and looking into getting his GED 

general education diploma under his belt and 3 month sobriety chip in his pocket, he decided to move back to california and enroll in college 

don’t let my last three bullet points fool you, though, he’s far from thriving

he’s majoring in accounting because he hates it. refuses to try things like psychology or literature because he’d rather wallow in his pain than allow himself to find a new passion 

basically, he’s trying to better himself while also self-sabotaging

he uses the settlement money from his accident to pay for his tuition and works at a liquor store for side cash 

his knee is doing fairly well, but he still walks with a slight limp and is prone to pain when he overexerts himself... which he does a lot, obviously. he refuses to drive and walks/takes the bus most places, as well as frequents the batting cages 

even though he decided on lockwood because it’s close to his hometown, he hasn’t tried to make contact with his family. he says it’s because they’re better off without him, but really he’s scared they’ll reject him 

even though he says he’s 6 months sober... he really pushes it... likes to makeout with people who have just done shots but says it’s OK because HE didn’t take the shot 

a gloomy fool 

alright, i think that pretty much sums him up, and got WAY longer than i intended, so big thanks if you read it all! some connections i’d like to have for him would be 

roommate(s)

people he knew/was friends with in high school 

friends of his sister 

hook ups/exes (the more tragic, the better! break my heart, please) 

people that encourage good behavior 

people that encourage bad behavior 

that’s all i can think of right now, but i’ll add more if i think of any! and i’m totally open to suggestions, of course! i look forward to chatting with you all <33

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Love So Sweetly” (Part 1 of 2) (au)

Summary: If you ask either of them, they’ll both claim it isn’t their fault. It starts with feuding musicians, a pair of handcuffs, and the evolution a relationship can go through over the course of 24 hours. 

Rating: E

Warnings: handcuffs? 

A/N: Hello, friends. Can we talk about how fucking difficult it is to figure out the logistics of how two people would move while handcuffed together, and then to put those movements into words that other people will understand? Pain in the ass, but I hope y’all enjoy this. This was started almost three years ago for AU Week 2016, and I posted a snippet, and then never got back to it. Thanks to @xemmaloveskillianx​ for making @csmarchmadness​ so I could get back on this and finish it up. Except, of course, for the cosmic joke that is my life... It’s not finished yet. This is part 1 of 2. I will get Part 2 done as soon as I possibly can, because the end is so near I can taste it!!

And again, thanks to the whole CS March Madness Discord for being so damn lovely. I was so lucky to have you all cheering me on and entertaining me, caring when I needed that little bit of extra care (and advice), and just being all around excellent people. And a hearty thank you to my beta, @captainstudmuffin​, for finding all the shit I overlooked a thousand times. 

Find it on Ao3 or FFN!

-x-

The Storybrooke Music Festival has been a staple of Almost-Middle-of-Nowhere, Maine for longer than most people that attend it can remember. The tradition of the gathering, in some cases, has been passed down from generation to generation, where the kids of the rockers and attendees are now the ones rocking and attending, and this year is no different from any other.

From all around the country, bands have flocked after being invited to play – some are bigger names, some smaller, some lost in the between. Some are one-hit-wonders and others have topped the pop charts for months at a time. The thing they all have in common: they’ve gathered here because their fans nominated them and the committee voted to invite them.

Over the span of a few acres, there’s a main stage and two smaller ones, with a sprawling campground surrounding the whole thing. And then there’s the vendors and merch stands, the specialty shops that have paid to set up. During the few days that the festival takes place, it’s anybody’s guess who will be there, where the weather will fall, and what will happen.

It’s early summer, but in their particular location, that still means a pop up storm or two. The days are warm, but without the drought of mid-summer, the paths that are marked for walking are quickly turning runny with mud, which normally would be fine. Normally.

“Well, princess maybe if you didn’t want a little mud on the tires, so to speak, you should’ve avoided the music festival ring! If the lowlands here are so offensive to you, perhaps you should get back to your pampered mansion back up on the hill.” Ignore the fact that he can also access the VIP tents as a musician, but it’s the principle of the matter…

None of the parties involved remember how this all started, besides the fact that Killian Jones, one half of the small-time Hook & Crook, fell in front of the golf cart that Emma Swan and Ruby Lucas, two thirds of The Ugly Ducklings, were riding in while one of the web media teams interviewed them. To be more precise, he fell on the hood of the golf cart, after he slipped in a slick spot of mud. The hit to the hood did something, however, and now the two woman are standing outside the cart as the media team struggles to get it working again, while Emma and Killian snipe back and forth at each other.

“It’s not the mud I’m mad about. I would happily get the hell away from you if you hadn’t stalled out our damn ride, though. Why weren’t you paying attention? You could’ve gotten seriously injured, you know.” Her finger is jabbing into his chest, belying the message she was spouting off.

“Careful love, you might make a man think you cared with such impassioned speeches,” Killian tells her, toe to toe, boot to boot, in front of the stalled out cart in question. That his are knock off from a secondhand store and hers are knee high genuine leather matters little to either of them, now. He sways into her space in a tantalizing way, his arrogance getting the better of him in this situation.

In retaliation, Emma straightens to her full height. Despite being shorter than him by almost half a foot, Killian swallows. It’s not her star power. He knows damn well who Emma Swan is. He won’t admit to the tracks he listens to in his downtime, with Emma’s voice conducting his mood like a bloody maestro without even trying.

No, Emma is a powerhouse without having to stand behind her fame.

Keeping up the façade of cocksure, he knows that whatever her next move is will be the finishing blow. She opens her mouth to tear into him, but a high-pitched honking causes them to snap out of it. He actually releases the tiniest of relieved breaths after the interruption, after Emma jolts away from him, thankful that she didn’t have a chance to use that legendary sharp tongue on him. He thinks himself a proud man, but he’s not sure even he could take getting verbally filleted by one of his celebrity crushes.

“What seems to be the problem here?” The woman is one Killian has seen around the festival since the gates opened the day before. She’s older, gray hair loosely pinned in a bun and glasses hanging around her neck from a beaded chain.

“Granny!” Ruby rushes at the older woman with a bright smile. “I was wondering where you were hiding.”

“Goodness, child, there’s been no hiding involved. I’ve just been keeping feuding rock stars in line. Speaking of, this looks like some trouble.”

“It’s nothing, Ms. Lucas,” Emma says, her whole demeanor softening to the obviously familiar newcomer.

“You know to call me Granny, dear! And this doesn’t look like nothing,” she says, motioning between Emma and Killian. “This is a festival to bring all kinds of musicians together. Emma, you know that better than most since this was your first break, right?” Granny takes one of Emma’s hands in her own, smiling fondly at the blonde.

She turns to Killian next, looking him up and down once and giving him an appreciative grin.

“You look like a tall glass of trouble. You boys harassing my girls?”

“Not at all, ma’am. Just a mild stumble that began a misunderstanding,” Killian says, laying the charm thick by grabbing her free hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Mhmm, well, mild misunderstandings are solved easily enough,” she says. “I have just the thing.”

“Granny?”

There’s something in the tone of Ruby’s voice that catches his attention, and he turns to see the slightly horrified look on her face. With speed he would’ve never credited the older woman to possess, he certainly doesn’t have time to stop her before he feels the cool metal snap around his left wrist. He looks down in confusion at the chain, following the line of it to where it’s connected to the other cuff, which is now locked in place around Emma’s right wrist. When Granny managed to pass his hand over to Emma’s instead of her own is beyond him, but the older woman is moving swiftly away from them, a grin on her face.

“What – “

“Granny, you can’t!”

                                                                                                                     “Let’s see how that works for you two! Now get along and maybe I’ll take them off!”

Faster than anyone can react, Granny is back on the cart that brought her to them and she’s speeding away. Ruby runs after her, followed by Robin, who’ve both figured out that their bandmates have just been handcuffed together.

Killian and Emma, however, are still rooted in place, disbelief painted on both their faces. They make eye contact, the reality of their predicament slamming into them at the same time before they look at their rapidly disappearing freedom.

“Wait!” they call out at the same time, taking off sprinting as a unit.

How Granny manages to disappear into the crowd so quickly is beyond all of them. Of course, she does have the advantage of being on wheels where the rest of them are all on foot. It feels like they’ve been running and searching for miles, all while the crowd ebbs and flows around them.

The only thing they can really do is head back to the VIP tents with a quick flash of their badges. There’s beer waiting from them, handed over from multiple angles, and Emma and Killian both take one in their free hands and greedily gulp from the clear plastic.

“Any luck contacting Granny?” Emma asks when she’s halfway through the beer. She looks down at her boots and sniffs once in annoyance. They’re not covered, by any means, but he’s guessing she had no intentions of getting them dirty at all. His have about the same amount on them, but he’s eternally grateful that he didn’t fall in front of the cart, because he cannot imagine trying to clean up while Emma is with him. Or change, for that matter.

“None. She must not have her phone on and none of the techs will let me contact her on the walkie.”

“I’m going to kill her. You know that, right?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that,” Ruby mutters, sipping from her cup.

As they all settle in, assessing what to do next, Killian sits back and observes the people around him. The other women, he knows, are Mary Margaret and Ruby, and there’s another one off to the side on her cellphone, the stern set of her face speaking of management.

“Regina,” Emma says, catching where his line of sight is trained. “She’s our manager. She’s trying to track down bolt cutters or something. Ruby texted her on our way back up here.”

“Ah, well. Hopefully she’ll succeed. I cannot imagine having to be stuck this way for much longer.”

“You and me both, pal.”

“Killian,” he says, holding out his right hand. “Killian Jones.”

She stares at his outstretched hand for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before she finally relaxes and lifts her right hand as much as she can, given their situation. “Emma Swan.”

“I’m sorry for the spat earlier,” he tells her, honesty at the forefront. He genuinely can’t remember who started hurling insults first but it was bad form, all around.

Emma fidgets a little, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. “Same. It’s uh, been a long day already and the weather isn’t helping.” He knows that all too well. The temperamental showers passing through have been hell since he and Robin left New York.

Whatever Killian goes to say next is cut off when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He releases her hand to dig it out and opens the message from their friend-but-also-manager, David, who they may or may not have forgotten about in the interim.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Killian says, scrambling to chug the rest of his beer and motion to Robin. “We play in half an hour. We’ve got to get over to our stage. Now.” He’s not sure how he let the time slip away from him so fast; he’s been looking forward to nothing but this set for ages.

“What? Hey, you’re attached to someone, you know. Go easy on the tugging.”

He looks down at where he’s clearly moved without thought again, noticing at the same time that there are dual red marks on their wrists from where the metal has dug into their skin. “Please, Swan, don’t make me beg. We barely lucked into this slot, and if we don’t play then we won’t get invited back.”

Emma stares at him for the length of ten heartbeats, and then she sighs. “Fine. Let’s get going. This should be interesting.”

The trek from the musicians’ tent to the stage where Hook & Crook are supposed to play is not an easy one. For both being musically inclined, and thus, coordinated enough to play instruments, they’re both incredibly clumsy when attached to another person. The number of times they yank each other in separate directions is somewhere in the twenties by the time they reach their destination (and right on time, thankfully). Killian is convinced that they will kill each other if the cuffs aren’t removed in a timely fashion.

To say the crowd is a bit surprised at the appearance of one Emma Swan on stage is a bit of an understatement, as they first gasp in surprise, then cheer wildly when she raises her right hand (along with his left) in greeting to wave at them all.

“We seem to be the victims of a cruel and unusual social experiment,” Killian tells the audience when they get settled. His voice booms out among the audience thanks to the amplifiers, even if they aren’t as big as the ones Emma will be plugged into tomorrow on the main stage. He’s damn proud of their attendance, so now it’s important to make the performance match.

It takes Killian all of two seconds to realize the biggest oversight yet, just as soon as he goes to pick up his guitar. He realizes it’s a problem, of course, because Emma’s hand goes with his.

“Shit,” she whispers, at the same time much less pleasant words are coming from his mouth.

“What do we do?” Try as he might, there’s panic licking up his spine and bloody hell would it be so much easier if he played the keyboard or something.

“I have an idea,” she tells him, picking his darling guitar up by the neck and turning to face him for a minute. After making sure the shoulder strap is in place and his hands are where they’re supposed to be, Emma supports her hand on his forearm and otherwise turns so she’s partially behind him. It’s awkward, feeling someone standing close, and her hand will no doubt get tired, but holding it the way she is means he still has complete freedom to move his hand to play. He strums a few chords just to make sure it’ll work and gives her a look and a thumbs up.

He does his best to forget about the woman literally attached to him, which is a little hard at first. But then the music kind of takes over, as it always has with him, and he’s lost in the set list he and Robin have played for years; this is what he works for year round – this opportunity to play for this crowd, some of whom have followed their little duo for years.

To his surprise, Emma doesn’t get tired of where her hand rests, even tapping along to the beat with her thumb. After three songs, she presses her back against his and starts swaying back and forth behind him, compelling him to move as well. It becomes difficult to remain solely focused on the song he’s playing when he can feel her shimmying against him.

“It seems as though our unexpected guest likes my music,” Killian says into the microphone, turning his head just enough to smile at her as she looks over his shoulder. The crowd cheers again, and they launch into their next song, one the audience clearly knows well enough that he feels pride welling in his chest when they sing along. He knows their time is running out, but he lets the buzz of performing wash over him, enjoying the way Emma is still moving to the beat at his back.

Their last song is a crowd favorite, so while he gives the audience a moment to sing the lyrics back to him – the ones he spent hours getting just right – he takes the time to appreciate just where he is, almost forgetting about the handcuff on his wrist, and the argument from earlier. With the final notes, the crowd starts cheering and whistling, and he smiles as he leans towards the mic to thank them again for their time.

The coordinator to the side of the stage waves to get his attention, and Killian glances over expecting to see the gesture for wrapping up. Instead, he grins wide when he sees the girl asking him to stretch their set by just one more song. They’re out of songs that are ready for performance, so he’ll have to think up something quick.

“We have time for one more song, and I think we should let this one choose the tune,” Killian says, using the chain that connects them to pull Emma back around to stand next to him. She groans and rolls her eyes, but glances back at Robin. With a thumbs-up from him, she looks to Killian and raises her eyebrows.

There’s a heavy pause, one in which she’s clearly thinking of the right song that they’ll both know.

“Hold your hand up,” Emma tells him, and without further preamble, she stomps her foot twice on the stage, followed by a high five for the clap that should follow. She repeats the motion a couple times to the audience, getting them to join in with a little help from Robin, before she reaches for the mic. She keeps up the double foot stomps but lets the crowd do the claps.

He idolizes Freddie Mercury, and appreciates the way Adam Lambert sings the lyrics of the famous Queen song, but he finds he’s instantly attracted to the way Emma’s voice sounds singing the opening lines of “We Will Rock You.”

Without discussing it beforehand, they perfectly switch off between stanzas, singing the chorus together. Killian is no Brian May, but he manages a guitar solo that makes the crowd go wild as Emma stamps her foot through the end of it. The applause is a level of deafening that Killian has never heard before, having drawn even more of a crowd than they normally would’ve with those passing by who heard the song. And while they take their bows at the end and exit the stage, he knows it won’t be soon that his adrenaline wears down.

Just as they’re giving a final wave, he spots Granny on the outskirts, looking something like proud. Instead of pulling away and letting the chain drag Emma along, he grabs her hand, yelling out to Robin that he’ll meet him later if this works, and they take off running. At the stage entrance, he holds still long enough for David to unstrap his guitar. He gives one quick “Thanks, mate!” before they’re off again, running and hoping.  

By the time they reach where the older woman just was, the spot is vacated, and the audience is trying to clamor around them for autographs and pictures.

“Which way did she go?” Emma’s yelling to be heard over everyone else, both of them on their tiptoes to try to see if they can spot her.

“I couldn’t tell,” Killian says, his defeated tone obvious as he turns back to her. “Should we?” The circle around them is closing fast, and they either need to break out while they still can or resign themselves to signing and smiling for a bit while the stage changes set ups.

As if noticing the people around them for the first time, Emma’s face goes from fallen to smiling. She looks at him, shrugging a little and reaching for the nearest autograph book and pen that someone’s holding out. His hand jerks along with hers, and they look at each other and sigh.

The rain that falls just a few minutes later is a blessing, because they can finally slip away as everyone else scatters at the same time. With no sense of direction, they start running, and Killian is thankful for the open yurt he sees just ahead, especially when thunder rumbles ominously much closer than he expected. He pulls Emma in just as the rainfall turns to a total deluge, and lightning flashes brightly.

By now, they’re likely postponing shows and getting festival goers to safety, so there’s no chance they’ll be moving before the storm passes, and no chance they’ll find Granny in the meantime. Other than to check the weather outside, the occupants of the yurt barely pay attention to them as newcomers. There are blankets covering the whole floor, in a circle around a young woman with an acoustic guitar, and as someone stands to close the doors on the weather outside, Killian leads Emma further in along the curved wall. They find an empty spot to settle down, both shivering from the moisture that’s soaked through their clothes.

A young woman with a mane of fiery red hair hands Killian a blanket. Her eyebrows go up and she stifles laughter when she sees the handcuffs. He’s not one to blush, and yet he feels his cheeks heating in response to whatever this woman is imagining. He opens his mouth to explain, to defend his honor, whatever – but the quiet applause for the woman playing in the center of the room cuts him off, and the woman with the blankets wanders away.

Emma smiles at him gratefully as he hands her one end of the soft fleece. Working together, they manage to get it around their shoulders, huddling close to get the most out of the material.

In between songs, he finds time to ask. “How are you holding up, Swan?”

“I’ve been better, Jones. I’ve been better. Hey um, thanks for including me in your set. That was a lot of fun.”

“Aye. I’d wager the crowd loved it just as much,” he notes. He wants to say more, to tell her how much he’s enjoyed this little adventure they’re on together. He wants to tell her how much he loves her music, and that he’s been a fan for ages. That he never meant to let their meeting escalate the way it did. She’s looking at him, her eyes darting between his, as if she’s reading his mind and can hear the words he can’t seem to speak. The set in the yurt continues, so he resigns himself to a tight-lipped smile and a nod, which she accepts with a small bob of her head. He unconsciously presses a little closer to her, not realizing how she returns the movement.

It’s several songs later that they notice the sounds from outside the yurt have quieted down, and they fold the blanket and leave it where they were sitting. Emma makes sure to snag one of the cards and demo discs that are sitting out on a small table near the entrance, something Killian failed to notice on his way in. Then again, he was mostly concerned with finding dry and safe and warm at that moment.

The long trek back to the musicians’ tent is spent in amiable silence. Neither are thirsting for conversation, but it’s not the same hostile silence they had at the beginning of this day. Someone slams into Killian, though, and the quick jolt to their wrists is enough for Killian to grab her hand again, leading her over to a merch stand somewhere halfway between where they were and where they’re going. He chooses two wrist bands at random, handing over the money and turning back to Emma before she can even question what he’s doing.

“Here, should make things a little better.” He holds one out for Emma, waiting until she’s wiggled hers on with a relieved hum before he does the same. The cold metal is no longer digging into his skin, which is the most important factor. “Shall we?”

They weave their way back to the musicians’ tent, stepping as carefully as they can through the mud that’s starting to form faster with the sudden rainfall. He’s used to festivals being a little rougher than indoor shows, so he does his best to keep his eyes on the ground and guide them through the worst of it.

When they get back to their destination, Ruby is engaged in conversation with another woman, and Killian immediately notices a disturbing pattern of managers looking very smitten with band members, or vice versa. Robin might have actual hearts in his eyes as he listens to something Regina is saying. Meanwhile, David and Mary Margaret look like they’re about five minutes from planning their wedding.

Killian looks at Emma, who looks back at him with a similar expression. She shakes her head, working her way over to where they’re all sitting and throwing her hands up in victory as their friends all turn and cheer for them.

“Where the bloody hell have you been, mate?” Robin claps him on the shoulder, and Killian would buy his concern if it weren’t for the fact that he’s sure Robin forgot he existed for a bit, there.

“We tried to track down Granny,” Emma explains. “But we were too late. Then got mobbed by fans. Then got stuck in a storm. Then ended up in a tent listening to an acoustic show.”

“Sounds like you two have had quite the adventure,” Ruby comments, her grin directed at Emma and looking something along the lines of predatory, if he had to put a name to it.

Emma hums in response, eyes narrowing as she looks at her friend. Whatever conversation they have between themselves during that moment, it’s something Killian isn’t meant to understand. Instead, he focuses on checking his social media accounts with the phone that David has returned over to him. He’d plum forgotten that he’d given it to Dave before they started their set.

He’s surprised when the biggest trending picture from the festival is one from Ruby’s account. There he is on stage, glancing over his shoulder at Emma behind him, she who has her eyes closed and is clearly mid-dance move against his back. It’s taken from the backstage area, and he didn’t even realize Ruby bothered to follow them, but he’s going to have to thank her for it later, and get the original sent his way so he can frame it and hang it up. It’s not every day you get to play a show handcuffed to someone you view as an idol. But there was the living proof of that.

“I can’t just sit here,” Ruby announces not more than ten seconds after his thoughts. “Let’s go explore!”

-x-

As far as ideas go, Ruby could have better ones sometimes. For one, she could be tracking down her heinous grandmother (who she would never claim is actually heinous in any other circumstance – the woman practically helped raise her, after all) to get a certain key to a certain set of handcuffs. She could be walking back to Storybrooke’s town limits to find her own spare key, for all Emma cares. But no, instead, her friend and bandmate is talking about how she’s apparently bored.

“Uh, Red? I’m kind of… stuck to someone.”

“So what? We bring him along. And any of the others that want to join?” She looks around at their strange group as she says it.

“Wait, wait. That’s it? You don’t have any other back up plans? A hairpin? A lock pick set? A good set of bolt cutters?” The whole group turns to look at Emma’s outburst, but no one says a word.

“I mean, you can try. But I swear those things are made of magic. They’re the only pair I was never able to bust out of without the key.”

The fact that Ruby’s been stuck in these cuffs, or that she’d been stuck in other pairs of cuffs, is no surprise to her, but it doesn’t facilitate a reaction with anyone in the circle either. Where did she find these people?

“So, we going?”

Mary Margaret visibly brightens as Ruby draws attention to her plan. “You’ll come, too?” she asks David. Ugh, even Mary Margaret has forsaken her. She knows David by reputation only; she’s met him a couple times and even likes him, but she knows that as soon as the manager turns a hopeful look towards Killian, they’re all apparently going gallivanting around the music festival.

“I guess that can be arranged. Now that Hook & Crook are done for the day, there’s really not much else for me to do,” David finally says after a wordless conversation with Killian.

“I’ll sit this one out,” Regina says, clearly taking on the air of Important Manager of an Important Musical Act.

“Count me out,” Robin says following her declaration. “I’ve had quite enough excitement for a bit.”

“Suit yourself,” Ruby says, clearly dismissing him and turning back to the rest of the crew. “Come on. There’s a Ferris wheel with my name on it.” Without further prompting, she grabs Emma’s hand and starts dragging her away. Killian isn’t quick enough to move, so his shoulder gets jolted again before Emma grabs his hand and pulls him along. She makes sure to murmur an apology to him as they exit the tent, and his quiet reply starts her heart beating like it was when they were on stage together.

That’s quite enough of those emotions, though. She’s been back and forth on the emotional spectrum since this morning, and really, some cliché pitter patter of her heart is just one step too far. So she had fun with him performing. So he’s easy on the eyes. So what? So are plenty of other men, and she’s certainly not about to one-night-stand a guy she’s literally stuck to. That just feels like asking for the key to be lost or the handcuffs to be rotted shut and then they’re just living out their days: the losers who got stuck handcuffed together and had sex once. Nope. No thanks.

Okay, so that’s a little hyperbolic, even for her. But she’s noticing that she’s getting used to the feeling of his hand in hers, and the sound of his voice as he quietly asks about the newest joiner of their group.

At the head of the pack, Ruby walks side by side with Mulan, who Emma points out to Killian as Ruby’s girlfriend. She does casual security for them as they walk through festivals such as this, so it’s Mulan who clears the path for them to walk through, herding them easily enough through the crowds and making sure they have enough space at all times. It’s clear Killian is out of his comfort zone – while he seemed to have a great amount of his own followers at their show and afterwards, and even as they sift through the crowd, he doesn’t look like he’s used to this large mass of people clambering to get selfies or autographs. Mostly, he just keeps hold of her hand and does his best to keep up.

That’s not to say they don’t stop for some of the fans. There are quite a few times where the three women just can’t ignore the people around them, and Mulan sighs in mock frustration (a smile on her face the whole time) as they linger with fans for a couple minutes at a time, trying to cover as many people as possible. They have a reputation (Emma especially) for trying to get to everyone, and so Mulan is hard on her to move along after an allotted amount of time.

What does come as a surprise is the amount of people who ask for pictures of Emma and Killian together, their handcuffed wrists held up like some kind of publicity stunt or punishment depending on what people ask. He tries to keep up with it all, and Emma gives him a quick smile before they keep moving again towards Ruby’s ride of choice.

“How’re you holding up?” she asks as they get escorted to the front of the line. There are some tiny perks to their ‘fame’ if she says so herself.

“Better than expected. That is, it’s not every day you wind up handcuffed to some beautiful celebrity and find out how the other half lives.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as the carriage comes to a stop in front of where they’re standing. All six of them load in, and Emma tries to keep her wayward emotions in check as she ends up pressed tight against Killian’s side.

The whole grounds of the festival stretch before them, with the stages visible out one side and what feels like miles of camp grounds all around them. There are other rides, ones she doesn’t think they’ll be able to handle with two people trapped together, but she smiles as she watches them cycle through, the thrilled screams of passengers filtering all the way up to them at the top.

As the wind whips around them, Emma glances at her companions in turn. Understandably, Ruby and Mulan are huddled together, with Ruby’s arm wrapped around Mulan’s shoulders and their cheeks pressed together as they look out at their surroundings. David and Mary Margaret are holding hands, a new development judging by the nervous smiles on their faces, and they’re glancing between each other and the view. Killian, however, is looking at her. As soon as she looks back at him, he darts his eyes to the side to look out at the landscape, but there’s a hint of smile on his lips while his hair dances in the breeze. She is very aware of how tightly she’s gripping his hand, unnecessary while they’re not in motion but habit now, nonetheless.

When the ride is over, they slowly disembark to a bunch of fans waiting. The crowds at the festival aren’t quite mob mentality, so it’s something they can handle and enjoy – these small groups that just want a small introduction and a moment to say their thanks. While she may have a few more fans trying to capture her attention, Killian still has a few things to sign and fans to greet while Emma is preoccupied with her own. She smiles when she catches sight of him talking with a smitten teenage girl, enjoying the way he’s so genuine with the people around them.

To be honest, after hearing him play, she wants to look him up online, find his albums, find out who he is without… you know… talking to him. Because that’s how she is. If she asks him questions, she’ll have to answer some of the ones he has for her, and that’s not how she does things. What’s weirder is that this whole scenario should be in the realm of “SOS immediately” in trying to get him unstuck from her, but Emma can’t help but slowly adjust to it all. Is this an ideal way to meet a man? Hell no. Is she going to make the most of it? It certainly seems that way.

As Mulan starts to move them along the path again, Emma’s stomach makes a loud growl, and it’s the first time she realizes how hungry she is. “Where the hell can we find some food?” she wonders, grabbing Killian’s hand and pulling him away from the departing fans. “You okay?”

She’s very aware, all of a sudden, that they are alone again somehow. He hasn’t said anything for a minute or two and the silence is suddenly unusual coming from him. But then he shakes his head and smiles at her, blaming his momentary lapse on his own lack of food.

“Pretty sure there’s loads of places we can find something to eat, love. Let’s sail away,” he responds, swinging their hands as they go along.

There was something there she just missed, and she can feel it. There’s something he’s not saying, a lie by some kind of omission, covered up by hunger, but when her stomach rumbles away again, she forces down that part of her that can sniff out a lie like a drug-seeking dog and focuses instead on food options.

They wander from stand to stand, weighing their options and discussing pros and cons of the various food choices. As they go along, she relaxes again and finds that she’s enjoying herself way too much. It’s not often that Emma finds herself calm in the company of a relative stranger. No – usually, when it’s outside of her fans, her skin crawls at the very prospect of spending any time with someone she doesn’t know.

Add in the fact that she is handcuffed (she feels as if she cannot emphasize this enough) to said stranger… well, let’s just say that Killian Jones is lucky there wasn’t anything pointy or stabby in near reach when Granny first locked the cuffs around their wrists.

Every moment since then has been a learning experience. It took more self-control than she thought it would to be teeth-grittingly polite after their initial predicament became clear to them. But man, as soon as that bravado, tough guy act faded away, Killian has been nothing but sweet and accommodating.

“Swan, onion rings,” he says, suddenly dispelling her thoughts again as he says the most magical words someone could ever say to her. “And frozen hot chocolates.”

“I don’t know about the frozen thing. I’m already starting to get chilly again,” she says. And it’s true. She’d left her jacket in the VIP tent when they went out for their interview, but the day had been sunny and glorious to start out. Now, with the sun setting and another round of clouds moving in, she shivers. It turns out leggings and a fitted t-shirt don’t do much, especially after a good soaking from the earlier rain.

Killian halts her progress towards the food stand for a quick detour to a small merch tent nearby. The young man running it looks like he has about a thousand safety pins attached to his outfit, and a surly look on his face. But when Killian waves a twenty, the kid’s whole demeanor changes. “This for the largest size of the goth Tinkerbell jumpers, and another if you give me all the extra safety pins you can find, along with a pair of scissors.”

Emma raises an eyebrow at his request, but Felix, as he introduces himself, grabs the items Killian has requested in record time and piled them on the sticker-covered table in front of the stand. When Killian goes to cut the side of the hoodie, Emma’s stomach reminds her that she’s starving and she throws in her own money. “I’ll give you an extra twenty if you cut that and wait for us to get back.”

Suddenly, Felix goes bashful. “I’ll do it for free if you sign an autograph for my cousin. She’s the model for the logo there, and she’s one of your biggest fans.”

“Deal. Just let me grab my food and we’ll be right back,” Emma says, smiling in victory as she pulls Killian over to the food stand he’d already spotted. They come back to Felix’s tent after Emma is already halfway through her onion rings, with a grilled cheese and two waters in the bag Killian is holding. After Emma holds up her end of the bargain, making sure to also promise a selfie with the cousin in question if she’s around the following day, Felix even helps them with the makeshift outerwear, diligently pinning the top seam he cut after realizing it would be easier for her to step into it instead of pull it over.

Encased in the soft, fleecy material, and having been fed, Emma is far more comfortable than she has been since she woke up this morning. Of course, that brings a whole new predicament. How the hell are they going to sleep? Because surely, they’ll have to do that at some point. She planned on sleeping on the tour bus which is fine in a pinch, but it’s a tight fit for her. How will Killian fit in there, too, unless he’s on top of her?

Suddenly, her mouth is dry at the thought, but she’s saved from her earlier thoughts of attraction by Killian’s gasp.

“Is that Granny up there?” All she can do is keep up as he moves them in a direction, and Emma realizes as she hears a loud chiming in the distance that it’s after midnight already. A whole day gone, but was it ever truly wasted connected to Killian Jones?

-x-

See you soon for Part 2!

[dherzogblog]

songs/19

“I listen so you don't have to”

Hey everyone, we’re back! enjoy some music and musings from the last year

Make sure to click on there bold type for music links and extras!

Lizzo- Juice Lizzo burst into 2019 with a hit song, huge album and wildly successful tour. The “pudding in the proof “. Easily the catchiest tune of the year with an irresistible Bruno Mars 80′s funk vibe, She has the kind of star power and charisma that makes her appealing to just about everyone, including your aunt, who no doubt will be grooving to this on bar mitzvah dance floors for years to come. Blame it on her juice.

Jen Awad- Hungover

Big voiced, post Amy Winehouse soul singer blames it on the juice too. Maybe she was with Lizzo the night before?

Charley Crockett- How Low Can You Go?

Multi ethnic Americana singer/songwriter delivers one of my favorite albums of the year where he effortlessly moves from country to blues to soul. He also recorded one of my favorite country covers of the year (see bottom of this blog for more info on that). His girl is breaking his heart (blame it on the juice again?) on this R&B styled song from a non album single.

Durand Jones and The Indications-  Circles

More sweet 70′s soul, quiet storm style. The swirling strings and Delfonics harmonies would sound perfect coming out of the 8 Track player in your Pinto.

Dr.John- Such A Night (1941-2019)

A true music renaissance man. Starting as a teen in the studios of New Orleans, he learned his trade at the feet of the masters, playing R&B, jazz, and blues with equal skill and feel. The good doctor, (AKA Mac Rebbenack) went on to become an unlikely rock star in the early 70′s with his psychedelic and voodoo inspired Night Tripper alter ego. His long career found him playing several roles along the way, session man, producer, and The Big Easy’s unofficial funk ambassador. I picked this live version of the song because: A. He’s backed beautifully by The Band, B. It’s one of my favorite performances from The Last Waltz, and C. The live setting let’s you hear him stretch out a bit on the keyboards. I watched him perform many times, headlining or sitting in with others at Jazz Fest. No matter what the setting, he always fit right in and found the groove. Piano man, sideman, shaman, there was only one Dr.John.

Van Morrison - Early Days

Like Dr. John, Van’s been around long enough to recall the birth of rock and roll. Throughout his career he never stopped paying tribute to his roots and those who inspired him. You can hear it in his musical references, cover tunes and name checks. At The Hollywood Bowl in October I got to see an unusually joyous performance as he wistfully traced a lifetime of musical influences across R&B, jazz and blues. His latest release is an unabashed love letter to those good old days, three chords and the truth.

Spiral Stairs- Fingerprintz

Scott Kannberg is one of the co-founders of Indie rock legends Pavement. But truth is I never took much of an interest in them. I happened to read about his solo project where he mentioned listening to a lot of  Van Morrison and Nick Lowe while recording. That seemed like a  good enough reason for me to check it out. There are familiar ‘fingerprints” on this one, as you can definitely hear him channeling Van.

Vampire Weekend- This Life

Hardly anyone is ambivalent about Vampire Weekend. Their preppy east coast look, and sleeve wearing, dad rock influences make them polarizing at best. Doesn’t matter to me, I like their catchy hooks, bone dry lyrics, caribbean rhythms, and ringing guitars.This is easily the sunniest song about cheating I ever heard.

The English Beat- Whine and Grind/Stand Down Margaret Ranking Roger (1953-2019)

in January of 1980 England was in the grips of 2 Tone mania, the pop music movement that came dancehall crashing out of the UK Midlands, and for a brief black and white checkered moment, dominated the British charts. At the center of the scene were The Specials whose founder Jerry Dammers launched the 2 Tone label and created the blueprint for it’s sound, inspired by the Jamaican music he heard as a kid. These bands (including The Selecter and Madness), combined ska, reggae and punk that launched a brief music and fashion movement. They dressed in a mod black and white style making the look nearly as important as their sound. For most of these bi-racial bands, the goal was to make you dance AND think, with lyrics focusing on social and political issues affecting young people in Thatcher’s Britain. The track here is a good example of that.

I arrived in London on a traveling seminar ready to check it all out, as a college radio DJ I was already a fan of The Clash’s punky reggae. and I had read several dispatches from the British music tabloids like NME and Melody Maker. First chance I got, I was off to a record store where I stood at a listening station to hear The Special’s debut LP.  I was instantly transformed into a card carrying 2 Tone fan boy. As a student, without much money with a long trip ahead, I couldn't afford The Specials album, but I did buy a 45 by the label’s latest signing, The Beat.

The A side was a cover of Smokey Robinson & The Miracle’s “Tears Of A Clown”. It took a minute to get used to hearing the Motown classic played in their energetic ska sound. The tune ends with Ranking Roger “toasting” over the track reggae DJ style, not something heard much outside of Jamaica back then. Side B featured Roger taking lead and riding over a bouncy stop and start rhythm titled “Ranking Full Stop”. It was an instant 2 Tone classic, and I now had a new favorite band.

The Beat (AKA The English Beat) after just one 2 Tone single, were given their own Go-Feet label and releasing a full length album later that year. Their songs seemed to have a slightly more authentic Jamaican sound than the others, dubbier, upbeat and fun. In addition they dabbled in world music and afropop long before it became chic. I saw them perform on their first US tour in Boston later that year.

As the 2 Tone moment waned back home, the group quickly focused on the American audience, touring constantly in the process. The Beat were definitely the band most committed to breaking in the states and nearly did. By the third album, they gained some traction at US radio (particularly here in LA at KROQ) and played the US Festival, but it was too late. The band was already fracturing. Lead singer Dave Wakeling and Roger left unceremoniously in 1983 to form the short lived and mildly successful General Public, while bandmates Andy Cox and David Steele formed the much more successful Fine Young Cannibals. despite some huge hits, they too were short lived.

The original band never reunited. Roger and Wakeling performed together as The Beat for awhile, later each forming his own version. Roger in the UK and Dave in the US. Dave’s version tours constantly to this day. The 2 Tone label didn't last long and the music never truly caught on here. Ultimately suffering the same fate as other short lived UK music fads like Glam Rock or The New Romatics. Their impact was strong enough though to fuel the much maligned ska third wave of the 90′s, and bring Jamaican music a bit farther into the mainstream. All that really remains are the three great studio albums and the memory of their exciting live shows.

I booked the band on a CNN talk show in 1982. I remember they seemed frustrated and were already hinting at a challenged future for the group. Less than a year later they were done for good. I recall desperately wanting them to succeed, bringing my favorite band and the 2 Tone music to the masses. It’s hard to imagine there was a ever a time in your life when a pop group could break your heart like that. 

Foe me and other recovering rude boys/rude girls, the music endures, as does the message.  And today when I hear them streaming into my ear buds, I still want to “move my likkle feet and dance to the beat”, which for the dearly departed Roger I have to think, was always the point.  #loveandunity

The Special- Vote For Me

Politics and social issues remain front and center as the 2 Tone founders return with their first album since the 80′s. Reunited for many years now, this current version of the band boasts more original members of The Fun Boy Three than the original The Specials. That did not stop them from delivering a totally respectable and relevant effort. You can hear dark echos of their classic "Ghost Town” on this dubby tune no doubt inspired by Brexit.

Eddie And The Hot Rods- Do Anything You Wanna Do Barrie Masters (1956-2019)

in 1976/77 Eddie and the Hot Rods stood at the intersection of pub rock and punk as one scene fizzled, and the other burned down everything in its path. The Hot Rods had the classic straight ahead sound of the pub bands plus an attitude that leaned forward into the energy punk would embrace. They enjoyed a brief moment of UK chart success before literally falling into the cracks of the pop music scene. This song, one of my all time favorite singles, sum them up perfectly. Drawing a straight line from Graham Parker to The Clash with a touch of a classic Springsteen working class anthem. In other words....perfect.

Beach Slang- Tommy In The 80′s

When I first saw the title of this song immediately assumed it was a Beach Slang’s tribute to The  Replacements guitarist Tommy Stinson . And even though Tommy himself plays on the track, it is not about him! In fact, it’s actually a tribute to obscure 80′s power popper Tommy Keene. I remembered the name from my MTV days, but honestly had to wiki him for clarification. Despite all these references, the whole thing sounds more inspired by “Jessie’s Girl” than either Tommy. 

The Cars- My Best Friends Girl Ric Ocasek (1941-2019)

Truthfully. I was never a big Cars fan. But in my college days before digital music, you listened to whatever the radio played. And in Boston, they played The Cars a lot. It wasn’t long before they rose from local heroes to national charts toppers. They didn't have the bluesy street cred or swagger of hometown legends Aerosmith or The J Geils Band, but they were our very own neighborhood rock stars. Drummer David Robinson lived in the building next door to Noreen on Comm Ave, and it was always kinda cool to see them strolling around Back Bay or hanging out at a club. Their sound was little cold and metallic for me, but you couldn't deny they crafted pretty great pop and new wave singles. They were omnipresent sound of my college days. The hits literally followed me to MTV and NYC in the 80′s where I often spotted Ric and Paulina strolling hand in hand in Chelsea. This classic love triangle was always my favorite with it’s Tommy James like guitar at the top, handclaps, and unforgettable hook. The band disbanded long ago, but like the classic American automobiles, these songs were built to last.

The Neighborhoods- Don’t Look Down

The Cars were the only Boston group of the era to truly make it big, but that late 70′s scene boasted several other talented bands who scored label deals including: The Nervous Eaters, The Rings, The Paley Brothers, Robin Lane and the Chartbusters, The Fools, The Real Kids, The Stompers, and Mission Of Burma. Later on, The Lyres, The Neats The Del Fuegos, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and Murphy’s Law  all managed to find the big time. It was a great time for local music back then. A city filled with students, plenty of clubs to pack on weekends, and college and commercial radio stations willing to play local bands. There were many good acts around town then, and my favorite, without a doubt, were The Neighborhoods. A young, brash power trio led by charismatic lead singer David Minehan. They played a ferocious brand of power pop/punk that would leave their audience breathless. I was certain they were destined for stardom. In the spring of 1979 they released their debut single “Prettiest Girl” on a local label and massive airplay on both college and commercial radio followed. They instantly became the hottest band in town, poised to become the next band from Boston to make it big. But it never happened. Bad luck, poor management and infighting derailed all the momentum. Before you knew it, the gritty street quality that was The ‘Hoods trademark was pushed aside by the synthesized sound of MTV. Over the course of the 80′s and into the 90′s they managed to release some pretty good albums on a variety of indie labels, but it never came together for them. The band reunited and gigs occasionally but hadn’t recorded for many years until right now. Forty years later, the neighborhood may not look the same, but their sound and spirit somehow survive. I suppose there’s something tragic and romantic about a great band lost to time, remembered only by the few who saw them way back when. They really were great, but I guess you had to be there.

Jesse Mailn - Meet Me At The End Of The World Again

New York’s favorite son, soul survivor, and street poet Jesse Malin is back. He’s been around long enough to understand that “When it all blows up, when it all goes down, when it makes you sick, but you’re still around” is victory in itself.  It’s the only life he knows, so what can a poor boy do? 

Brittany Howard- Stay High

This is from Alabama Shakes lead singer's excellent solo debut, unselfconsciously celebrating private moments spent with a lover on this  rootsy and gentle ballad. Her soulful falsetto conveys the kind of lustful bliss you might expect from Al Green or Prince. 

Mississippi All Stars- Mean Old World

Bear with me. This one is tangled up in the roots of several southern rock legacies and is going to take a minute to unpack. The All Stars are led by Luther and Cody Dickinson, sons of legendary Memphis musician and wild man Jim Dickinson. They decided to cover T Bone Walker’s Mean Old World,  a blues number once recorded by Eric Clapton and Duane Allman as part of the historic Derek And The Dominos sessions. The track, featuring their dad Jim, did not make the original release but was later unearthed on an expanded reissue. Still with me?  So, as a bit of a tribute, the guys recorded their own version of the tune and invited Duane Betts, son of Allman Brothers guitarist Dickey Betts to record an Eat a Peach inspired guitar run at the end.

And oh yeah, Jason Isbell is on it as well.

Got all that? 

Samantha Fish- Kill Or Be Kind

Have seen Samantha live several times over the past few years. She’s a very good blues/rock guitarist, vocalist and an exciting live performer. On the sultry “Kill or be Kind” she gives her lover an ultimatum. Fun fact: One of my son’s best friends from high school (Kate Pearlman) wrote two tracks on the album!

Jade Jackson- Bottle It Up

Second album from this promising up and coming alt country artist. She’s on the super cool Anti label which providing immediate credibility and her albums are produced by Social D frontman Mike Ness. And when she’s not on the road she waitress’s at her parent’s restaurant in central California. I’m not sure you can get any more country than that.

The Highwomen- Redesigninig Women

Inspired by The Highwaymen of Willie, Waylon, Johnny and Kris, this all female country “supergroup” quartet is out to break the stereotypes in country music with some really fine songs. While the male Highwaymen banded together to rescue careers in decline, these women (Brandi Carlisle, Amanda Shires, Marren Morris, and Natalie Hemby), are all on the rise. This song is lot of fun.

John Prine- Unwed Fathers

John Prine is back with a remake of his heartbreaking tale of teenage pregnancy. He’s joined this time Margo Price. I got to see Prine live this fall at the beautiful Anson Ford Amphitheater here in LA. His simple, plain spoken lyrics and songs are timeless. I attended the show with my pal David Kissinger who observed that despite health issues, “Prine remains an national songwriting treasure and his performance was as life affirming as you’ll ever see.” Can’t say it any better than that.

Shovels And Rope- Mississippi “Nuthin

Ever wonder whatever happened to that perfect couple from high school? You know, the high school quarterback and the prom queen? This one ain’t “Glory Days”. Our QB peaked in high school and never makes it back to the end zone again, plus he's tortured by the success his old flame enjoys. His anguish and desperation are palpable in this barn burner of a song whose vocals draw inspiration from June & Johnny and John & Exene.

The Delines- Eddie and Polly

Eddie and Polly are young and in love, and doomed. Vocalist Amy Boone’s world weary vocals always sound like it’s 3AM. This one won’t do much for your holiday spirit, but it’s haunting melody might stay with you throughout it.

Yola - Love all Night (Work All Day)

Love the one your with is (at least after work) is the basic idea on this track from this UK performer’s debut long player. Produced by Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, the collection is full of excellent retro soul-folk. There was a fair amount of buzz in front of the release and she more than lives up to it including a nomination for a Best New Artist Grammy. 

Mavis Staples + Norah Jones- I’ll Be Gone

First recorded effort form this duo. A bittersweet ballad that softly and soulfully looks ahead to a final salvation. But Mavis ain’t done yet. She’s still going strong, recording and touring constantly. She knows she may be running out of time, but there’s still work to do. And whenever she’s finally ready, you can be sure she’ll take us there.

Hope you and yours are well.  The Herzog’s wish you the best and look forward to seeing you in the new year.  For those of you who made it this far, thank you. I’ve got a bonus playlist for you. Artists you like playing songs you love:  covers/19 Enjoy.

peace,

Doug

Los Angeles, December 2019 

[taexual]

HOLIC - 1 | jb x reader

gif creds to prdsverse

Strangers, united by their big dreams, try to learn to live together and lift each other up to reach their goals without losing themselves or their relationship on their way to the top.

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au

warnings: some sexual themes

words: 2.8k

it took me months to prepare this story even after i did a poll. once again, thank you so much for voting on it, and i’m so excited to finally reveal the JB fic i’ll be trying to write! 😬 🙌

          prev / next

You thought you heard shuffling in bed next to you but you assumed it was just happening in your mind. Only two hours later, when you finally opened your eyes to greet your surprisingly empty bed did you realize that your guest from the night before had chosen to leave while you were still sleeping.

He wasn’t a complete asshole who bailed on you after having sex, though. He had left a note on your bedside table – the only remaining piece of furniture in your bedroom, aside from the bed itself, – but as soon as you read the dry words he had written, you started to wish you’d never seen the piece of paper.

               I had a good night. Thanks, x

“Thanks,” you read the last word out loud. “Well, you sure are welcome.”

Leaving without saying anything or even waiting until you woke up was really sort of awful but even that would have been better than leaving after writing a dry note as if to acknowledge that, yeah, he did have sex with you and he’s grateful you gave him a place to sleep for the night, but that’s it.

Should you have expected anything more? Not really. Were you still hoping he’d, at least, stay a little bit longer and the two of you could get breakfast and, maybe, fall in love along the way? Of course. You were as delusional as it was possible to get, apparently. But you couldn’t help yourself. This was your first one-night-stand, so, of course, you were hoping for some fairytale happy ending.

Groaning, you crumpled up the piece of paper and got out of bed. The saying “all men are the same” was something you tried to refrain from using but, damn it, it fit your situation so well. Although, rationally, you could understand that this was your fault, too. You recalled every unsuccessful date you’ve had as you put your robe on. Each and every one of those dates would have gone better if you hadn’t expected so much from those guys. If you had lower standards.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, blaming your own mind for deciding that having a one-night-stand would help you feel better. It didn’t. This was the first time you’ve brought a complete stranger home to hook up and it was absolutely the last one.

Walking to your kitchen, you accidentally kicked one of the many cardboard boxes in your house. Your whole foot stung as you limped to the kitchen and leaned against the island, hating this morning even more. Moving out was already stressful. Why did you need to sleep with someone on your last night in this apartment and then mess your mind up by imagining some unrealistic scenario about falling in love with your one-night-stand?

You rolled your eyes and started the coffee pot. Then, simmering in irritation, you opened your laptop that you’d left on the counter before you had gone out drinking with friends the night before.

“I need someone to share my stupid hopes with,” you mumbled under your breath, opening Facebook and texting the groupchat of your best friends a quick update on how your night went.

Then, you got your phone out and, pouring coffee into your favorite mug with one hand, texted your soon-to-be roommate with the other one.

You finished half the mug – and really considered blocking your friends for ignoring you when you desperately needed to talk – by the time Kiera, one of your friends, replied to you. Coincidentally, she was the only friend from your small group of four who wasn’t present at the night-out you had.

Kiera was too busy to hang out last night, but she was really curious to know what your one-night-stand had done to unleash such fury from you. However, she wasn’t content with your explanation of how he left after thanking you for a “good night” in a note. She wanted you to elaborate on the so-called good night itself.

You shook your head – she always wanted juicy details – and started to reply.

Your mind was immediately flooded with memories of the beautiful guy at the end of the bar last night. Hyojin, your other friend had pointed him out to you, insisting that he was your type. You were convinced that he only glanced at you because he felt you staring as you tried to decide how far out of your league he was. However, something about you must have attracted him, too, because a minute later, he was making his way towards you.

He did have a slightly cocky attitude but you were always weirdly drawn to arrogant guys. It must have been something about their confidence that attracted you. And, if you had to be honest, this guy had every reason to be confident. His face was a work of art – you didn’t need to be a photographer to recognize his beauty, but you did wish you had your camera with you – and his voice almost made you melt as he listened to what you told him, and responded with genuine curiosity.

This was where your Kiera interrupted your story with a confused emoji. She said that you had come across a guy who was boyfriend material, she could feel it from your texts. Apparently, these guys weren’t the type to have one-night-stands, so, she swore you’d hear from him again.

You scoffed. “Via pigeon post, most likely.”

You continued to tell Kiera about how he stared at your lips until he finally cut you off mid-sentence and asked if he could kiss you. You told her about how he couldn’t keep his hands off of you the entire taxi ride back home. You even told her how he pushed the boxes in your apartment aside so he could have you against—

Your phone buzzed suddenly and you flinched, the hot feeling caused by the memories of last night settling down in your stomach. You didn’t know why your heart dropped at the text message but you had to remind yourself that Kiera was wrong: your one-night-stand didn’t have your phone number. There was no way he could have reached out to you again.

And indeed, the text wasn’t anything exciting; it was just a message from your future roommate.

You sighed, disappointed for the second time today and it wasn’t even midday.

You hadn’t met your roommate yet but you were hoping you’d get to meet her as soon as you moved in. What was a better ice-breaker than you telling her about how a guy had sex with you and then – perhaps unsurprisingly – bailed while you were asleep. The two of you would bond over your mutual irrational hatred for the male specimen – because you knew she was single, too – and then you’d become best friends for life.

Maybe you were being naïve again because you didn’t even know her real name. Somehow, you never felt the need to outright ask her what her name was. You used each other screen names to communicate – you figured DEF had to be her initials – but you did try to make out her name from her signature on the online lease form. You didn’t succeed, though. In the end, nor her name, nor her face – she had a cat as her profile picture – mattered. You’d get to know her better when you moved in.

You already got to know her a little bit since you texted her number from an ad looking for a roommate a couple of months ago, but, since you never met face-to-face, you were slightly scared that talking in real life would have been different. This time, your conversations wouldn’t consist of questions about allergies, musical preferences, and ambitions.

Although, now that you thought of it, you and her were really similar. Both of you enjoyed the same type of music and both of you had big, rather ambitious dreams. You wanted to become a professional photographer, and she wanted to become a singer. Both of you knew that the chances of these dreams actually coming true were slim, but you both enjoyed dreaming about it together nevertheless.

In the end, you were hopeful that you’d enjoy living with her, even if you wouldn’t get to begin the friendship as soon as you moved in.

You got back to replying to Kiera, this time struggling to remember the feeling of your one-night-stand’s hands on you as vividly as before, but then your phone buzzed again, distracting you even more.

You smiled at this. It had to mean that she wanted to bond with you, too, so maybe you weren’t that naïve and delusional. You may have expected too much from guys but your girlfriends haven’t let you down yet.

You weren’t trying to hide your enthusiasm. Furniture shopping was always a sign of maturity in your eyes and ever since you moved out of your parents' house a couple of years ago, you were eager to move into your own apartment so you could choose all furniture yourself. Unfortunately, the first apartment you lived in – the one you were in right now – came furnished, so you’ve yet to experience the joy of choosing your own bed, closet, and chairs.

Actually, you still couldn’t afford to buy it all on your own, but living with a roommate had a lot of perks. Not only did you have someone to socialize with when you desperately needed a person to talk to, but you could also split the rent, the groceries, and even the furniture. This arrangement worked well not just for your social needs – however minor they were, –  but for your financial needs, too.

You really couldn’t wait.

The van you had rented came with three guys, two of which carried the boxes into the van for you – all while complaining about it, and thus fueling your hatred for the males today even more. The other guy was the driver who was, actually, really patient and kind, albeit a little too intrusive.

“So, why are you moving?” he asked you after you finally sat down on the passenger seat and all of you headed towards your new building.

“I graduated from college,” you said. “This was a small apartment, it only had one bedroom. I lived here because I wanted to stay away from the mess that is the dorms. I’m not into that life.”

“You had to work to afford to live in an apartment, though, didn’t you?” the driver asked again.

“I did,” you confirmed. “I waitressed at cafés mostly. I got a job that’s a bit more serious now, though, so now I can afford to live in a bigger place.”

“Any roommates?” he wondered.

“One,” you nodded. “Today will be the first time I’m meeting her.”

The driver glanced at you, surprised. “You’re moving in with someone you’ve never met?”

This was the question you’ve heard twenty times already. You had to admit, everyone who asked this had a point – you really were moving in with someone you barely knew – but, at the same time, you were very confident in this decision. Not even your parents’ warnings that you could end up moving in with a psychopath could steer you. Def was nice, you were sure about that.

“I am,” you said. “I’ve been talking to her for a few months and she’s really sweet. We’re very similar, so I know we’ll get along well. Or, well, I hope we will.”

“Alright, then,” he replied. “Best of luck to you. Make sure I don’t have to transfer your stuff back to your old apartment after you meet her, okay?”

You laughed at this, shaking your head and assuring him that this won’t happen. But, really, his words made you anxious, which was funny, since many people tried to prove to you that this was a bad decision, and yet a simple driver of a moving truck was the one who actually opened your eyes.

Maybe you became more aware of the fact that you were, essentially, starting a new period of your life blindly because you were seconds away from opening the door to this new life. Maybe the anxiety was a normal reaction. Maybe you’d have felt the same way even if you’d known the name or what your roommate looked like.

Taking a deep breath, you spent the rest of the trip focusing on how excited you were to meet the person you were about to live with. Finally, your late-night conversations about cats – she used to own five of them at once, apparently, and you’ve never heard anything more impressive than that – could come to life.

So, yeah, you were going to be alright. This would work out. No anxiety could dim the excitement of meeting your roommate.

The same two guys helped you carry the stuff up to your new place – well, “helped” was a stretch; what you really did was admire the hallways as you carried a little potted plant while they did all the hard work – but, this time, they complained less. Maybe because they finally realized you’d be paying them and wanted to suck it up to you in hopes of a tip. Well, aside from complaining, they really did a good job and all nine of your cardboard boxes reached the floor of your new kitchen within twenty minutes, even though the apartment was relatively high up and the elevator was, of course, broken. So, you felt like they deserved a tip.

Once you were left alone, you finally took in the new place. The décor was white mostly: white walls, white ceilings, grey floors. The built-in kitchen appliances and cupboards were also either white or grey.

There was one bathroom, a kitchen, a living room area – that was completely empty, –  and two bedrooms in the apartment. The bedroom closer to the exit had its door slightly open and you couldn’t resist peeking inside.

You didn’t see much. There was a mattress on the floor, a sad looking piece of paper – that must have fallen out of one of the black travel bags that were scattered there, –  and a guitar case. You hadn’t realized your roommate played the guitar but you should have probably guessed it. She did want to become a singer after all, so it was likely that she’d know how to play at least one instrument.

You closed the door – after noticing how few bags there were there in comparison to the boxes you’ve brought – and carefully began to drag your stuff into your bedroom. You were afraid to ruin the floorboards but you also didn’t want to actually lift the bags and carry them manually. Perhaps you should have asked the workers to bring your boxes to your new bedroom instead of just having them drop them all in the nearly empty living room/kitchen area.

As soon as the boxes with your books, clothes, shoes, and other necessities were in your room, you texted your roommate to let her know you were here and to subtly ask her when she’d be home. Then, while you waited for her response, you started to unpack the rest of the boxes that you’ve left in the kitchen.

You were halfway through the crockery box when she finally replied.

The domestic request brought a smile to your face. Finally, you didn’t have to worry about leaving the stove on when you went out. You could just text your roommate to check.

The fridge, as it turned out, wasn’t working at all. You panicked at first but then you realized it just wasn’t plugged into the electric cord on the kitchen wall next to it. You did that and texted her back.

She replied with a thumbs-up emoji and you placed your phone on the counter next to you so you could finish unpacking.

You had offered to bring the cutlery and crockery before you moved in, telling your roommate not to worry about any of it. Both of your parents worked for ceramic tableware manufacturers so, each Christmas, your family was gifted new sets of plates, bowls, teapots, and dishes you’ve never learned the names of. You had so many different sets by now that you could have eaten out of different plates every night for a whole month.

Once you finished with this box, you went through the boxes of cutlery and other minor home appliances. You laughed when you realized you had brought your blender, even though your roommate had already placed hers on the kitchen counter. It made you laugh even louder when you realized that both of your blenders were from the same brand and looked almost identical.

A couple of hours later, when you finished working on all the other boxes in the kitchen and moved on to the ones in your bedroom, you heard a key in the lock of the apartment door. Your stomach clenched in excitement and you felt yourself smile.

Your roommate was home.

Deciding to unpack the rest of the boxes later, you headed for the door of your room.

“Hey!” a voice called out. You froze to the spot immediately. “I’m home!”

Was it possible to be robbed on your first day in a new apartment? No, scratch that, it was possible to be robbed at any point in life, this was a stupid question. But… was it possible for a robber to announce that he was home before he stole all of your precious belongings? Because the voice outside of your door didn’t belong to your roommate. At least, not to the roommate you had imagined.

“Hey!” the same voice called out again. You felt yourself panic because the voice was most certainly male and it sounded familiar. “Are we playing hide-and-seek or something? Or are you not home yet and I’m talking to myself?”

With your heart beating out of your chest, you opened the door.

“Seriously, where are y—”

The words got caught in his throat as soon as he saw you walk out of the bedroom. To be honest, you almost forgot to breathe from the shock as well. Not only was your roommate a guy, but, as it turned out, you’ve also met him before.

“Jaebum,” you said, your eyes wide and clouded with confusion.

There stood Def. Your new roommate.

And your one-night-stand from the night before.

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.30

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Emma pulls on her leather jacket and readies herself for what lies ahead.) Snow White: (Entering:) "Well, I've just come back from Camelot, and Guinevere agreed. Lancelot will lead their army into the Dream World. (Noticing the pensive look on her daughter's face:) Are you all right?" Emma: "Yeah. I mean, I've got to be, right?" Snow White: (Shaking her head:) "I hate that Morpheus is separating you two like this, and making you relive your cursed life. Do you know how he plans on doing that without the Dark Curse ingredients by the way?" Emma: (Shrugs:) "He's a god. I'm pretty sure he can do whatever he wants." Snow White: "If that were true, Morpheus would've enslaved us all by now. Zeus doesn't want him to succeed any more than we do." Emma: "Then why doesn't Zeus stop Morpheus himself? Why must we be the playthings of the gods?" Snow White: "I don't know. Hercules never understood it either, but I know you won't be alone for whatever comes." Emma: "Yeah, about that, are you sure coming with me is the best play here? I mean you and Dad have lead armies before, you'd be of more use on the battlefield." Snow White: "Emma, the realms are united because of you and Regina. Frankly, they owe you their support and their armies that go with it. All of our friends and family who are capable of fighting are going to do so. Plus, with Tiana rallying the people of Wonderland, Ruby and Mulan convincing Merida to lead her army, and Jasmine preparing her men, there will be more than enough leaders when the battle comes. (Pulling Emma in for a hug:) Many years ago, David and I made a choice to sacrifice your future to save ourselves. Today we're choosing you." Wonderland. (Tiana looks out at the gathered crowd nervously. Will, Alice, Robin & Regina stand with her.) Tiana: "I'm sorry. I don't think there’s enough beignet magic in the world to get the people to agree to this." Regina: "You won't need magic. I've heard about what you've managed to achieve here. From one Queen to another, you've got this." Tiana: "Right. Queen. (Taking a deep breath, she walks forward and addresses the people:) Folks. Please listen. Our people, o-our friends are in trouble and..." (The people talk among themselves, not listening until...) Will: "Oi, you lot, listen up." (The people fall silent.) Tiana: "Since I became your queen, Wonderland has done things differently. Unlike rulers our land has known in the past, I like to think that I've listened to my people. Together, we created a council of advisers to make sure everyone's voice would be heard. This will all end the moment Lord Morpheus gets his way and that is why we must fight. These are strange times, and we need to stand together more than ever. Your realm needs you. Your Queen needs you."

Dun Broch. (Ruby and Mulan stand by as Merida speaks to the clans.) Merida: "Only a coward would start a war he has no intention of fighting in himself. That is who Lord Morpheus is, a so-called god who refuses to even show his true face. We didn't ask for this, but we will fight with everything we have. We're not ashamed of who we are. So let's show them what happens when you face the combined might of clans DunBroch, Macintosh, Dingwall, and Macguffin!" (All those gathered raise their arms and roar in approval.) Agrabah. (Jasmine stands in front of her father, The Sultan, as they discuss Agrabah's role in the upcoming battle.) Jasmine: "Trade agreements?! You won't allow the army of Agrabah to join the battle because of trade agreements?" Sultan: "Jasmine, my angel, how can I possibly dedicate our troops to fight in this conflict when Arendelle does not? It will make our partners look bad." Jasmine: "Elsa isn't sending her army because they will be protecting those from the combined realms who cannot fight! Arendelle isn't abstaining, they're defending." Sultan: "The fact remains, they are not sending troops, so neither can we." Jasmine: (Emits a scream of frustration:) "Oh, this is insane. I cannot believe you sometimes. But you know what? Maybe this is for the best.” Sultan: "Good, then we're in agreement." Jasmine: "Absolutely. Aladdin and I shall go, while you and Agrabah's army stays here like the bunch of inadequate imbeciles you are." (Jasmine storms from the room without another word.)

Underworld. Present. (Morpheus/Hades stands over Hook, admiring his handiwork.) Morpheus/Hades: "I'm afraid the time has come for me to leave you, Captain. You have been a most wonderful distraction, it's been exciting hasn't it?" Hook: (Bloodied and beaten, groans in pain and rolls over slightly:) “It will be... when I kill you.” Morpheus/Hades: (Laughs:) You can't kill me. I'm a god. (Chuckling:) This...  where we are now, is death.” Hook: “Well, then, I'll find whatever's worse and do it to you.” Morpheus/Hades: (Kneels beside him:) “The only thing that could kill me is the sword forged by Zeus from the remnants of the Olympian crystal. Even then, it can only work if it is wielded by the one true king to unite them all. Zeus placed it in my realm in an attempt to stop me, but luckily, no one knows where that is.” Henry’s Dreamscape. (Richard is seen wielding the sword... using the hilt to crack walnuts with.) Underworld. Continued. Morpheus/Hades: “So, Captain, (Pulling him to his feet:) since you are neither the one true king or currently in my realm, I’m not too worried.” Hook: “You’re just going to leave me down here?” Morpheus/Hades: “Oh I certainly could, but no. I’m going to give you a shot at redemption. A chance to escape the Underworld and return home a new man.” Hook: “And why would you do that?” Morpheus/Hades: “Because when I become the supreme ruler of all the realms of story, I’ll need someone to tell the people that I’m not such a bad guy. Orpheus and Eurydice, do those names ring a bell?” Hook: “I can’t say they do, no, but I’m sure you’ll tell me all about them.” Morpheus/Hades: “They are the only two souls known to have ever escaped the Underworld.” Hook: “How?” Morpheus/Hades: “Orpheus helped Eurydice escape by feeding her ambrosia, the food of the gods.” Hook: “And where exactly do you get some of that?” Morpheus/Hades: (Smiles:) “Glad to see you’re paying attention but, seeing as you’re not really dead, you won’t be needing any ambrosia. Which is good news because the real Hades chopped down the tree where the ambrosia grows from a long time ago. However, you will still need to follow in the lovers’ footsteps and find the room. Inside, there will be a portal that will take you wherever you wish to go. Now, listen closely, I shall say this only once.” Giant's Lair. Past. (Arlo and Jack are fighting. Meanwhile, Prince James is filling a sack full with treasure.) Jack: (Thrusting her sword into Arlo's heel:) “Uhh!” Arlo: “Aah! Ha!” (Arlo pulls the sword out from his heel. He lunges forward and grabs Jack.) Jack: “AAH! James! Aah! (James turns and sees she needs help, but he just stands there. Jack grunts as she tries to free herself before Arlo stabs her with her own sword:) UHH!” (Arlo drops Jack. Prince James goes back to filling his sack at a faster rate than before. The poison of the sword takes effect. Arlo loses his balance and collapses. Anton enters.) Anton: “Arlo? (He sees Arlo on the ground:) No. (Anton falls to his knees next to Arlo:) No, no, no, no!” (Prince James finishes filling his sack and starts to run toward the beanstalk.)

Jack: “James! (Prince James stops:) Please.” Prince James: “I'm sorry, Jack. But I have a kingdom to run. I'm sure you understand.” (Prince James runs off. Jack lets out a weak groan and dies.) Arlo: “Anton... the poison. It's in my blood. Did you...” Anton: “All destroyed. The fields and every last bean.” Arlo: “Oh, good. Good. That's what's important.” Anton: “No. Everyone else is dead. You can't die, too, please.” Arlo: “I know your path is hard. But someday you will know which road to choose. And when you do, (He pulls out a vial:) you will need this. A preserved cutting from the stalk. (Anton takes the vial:) Plant it. New beans will grow.” Anton: “But you had me salt the land. Nothing can grow here.” Arlo: “Then someday you will find... new land.” (Arlo dies.) Anton: “How? Arlo? Arlo?! (Whispers:) No.” Storybrooke. Present. (David stands looking down at the magic bean in his hand while Anton continues handing out beans to the others.) Anton: "It's been a good harvest this year and the beans are plentiful, but I've never heard of them being used in the Dream World before." David: "There's no guarantee once we're in Morpheus' realm that we'll all arrive at the same location. The beans are our best shot at gathering everyone in one place, it just may take a few tries."

Anton: (Reaches Emma and Regina:) "I heard what Morpheus has planned for you guys and er... I think you should take three each." Regina: "Thank you." Emma: "Thanks, Anton." (They hug.) Alice: (To Zelena:) "What did the people of Oz have to say?" Zelena: "Well, I've warned them. Whether any of them will turn up to do their part is another thing. But then again, what good would Munchkins be in a fight anyway?" Tiana: "Actually, you'd be surprised." Zelena: "What about you, any luck?" Tiana: "We took a vote and it's mostly going to be those who fought with me during the Black Fairy's curse and a few Lost Boys joining us." Zelena: "Better than nothing, I suppose. (To Robin:) Are you ready for this?" Robin: "Oh yeah, and while we're helping Aunt Regina, Alice and Will have a plan of their own." Zelena: "Really?" Alice: "Yep, Will and I have a history in the Dream World and we might just be able to use that to find Henry."

(Anton makes his way over to Rumplestiltskin and Belle.) Anton: "Regina and Emma told me Morpheus has plans for you too. So here, take a few extra beans." Belle: (As Rumple takes the beans:) "Thank you, Anton." Anton: (Nods. To Will:) "Will?" Will: "I'll take as many as you can spare, mate. I don't feel good about this at all." Rumplestiltskin: (Chuckles:) "Great. Now I'm in agreement with Will Scarlett." Belle: "Listen to me, Rumple. You have survived way worse than this. I know you'll find a way to save Henry and come back to us." Rumplestiltskin: "Belle, I don't know what I'd do without you." Belle: (They kiss:) "After this, you'll never have to find out, I promise." Henry’s Dreamscape. (Gareth is polishing his armour in his room when Madelena enters.) Queen Madelena: “I'm sorry your birthday's been such a bust. I really tried to get someone to hit you.” Gareth: “It's all right. It's just nice to know you care.”

Queen Madelena: “But I do have one last birthday surprise that unexpectedly arrived. I think you're going to love it. (Lord Morpheus enters the room:) How would you like an unprovoked war to seize control of all the realms?” Gareth: (Stands, throwing his sword over his shoulder:) “Best birthday present ever.” (Both Madelena and Morpheus laugh.) Morpheus: “Dingdong.” Storybrooke. (With their friends, family and several armies behind them, Regina and Emma stand in front of the sapling.) Emma: "So how does this work, exactly?" Blue Fairy: "As both of you share True Love with your son, when you touch the sapling together while thinking of Henry, a portal should open, taking you to him." Regina: "Morpheus said he'd send Emma and I to different realms as soon as we stepped into the Dream World. So once we open the portal, we need to be the last to enter. (To Emma:) Ready?" Emma: (Nods:) "Let's do this." (Taking each others hand, they both reach out and touch the sapling, causing the cave to fill with a brilliant green light.)

[grootpoepjeplasjehoofd]

"People raised as communists can’t be racists"                  

Tamar Peleg-Sryck, 91, human-rights lawyer                  

When she was 60, an age when regular people start to shift into lower gear ahead of retirement, Tamar Peleg-Sryck, a graduate of night-school studies in law, left the teaching profession and started to clerk in the law firm of Avigdor Feldman, where she could focus on human rights. A tireless lawyer, she has helped thousands of Palestinian detainees, many of them children, who have been maltreated by the occupation authorities. She retired five years ago, after intensive work in both dusty military courts and the High Court of Justice.            

Born in Poland, Pekeg-Sryck survived the Holocaust thanks to the Tehran Children rescue operation, which brought some 1,000 Jewish children to Iran in 1943, and from there on to Palestine. “I am a survivor thanks to the Soviet Union,” she says. “We were sent to Kazakhstan in 1940 and remained alive by a miracle.” Catching herself talking about miracles, she stops to correct herself: “Not by a miracle – with difficulty.”                    

Perhaps because of her life experience she also has something to say about the comparison that’s sometimes drawn between Stalin and Hitler: “People like to say that they were the same thing. But Hitler fulfilled his principles in his deeds, whereas Stalin betrayed part of his principles in some of his deeds.”                  

Peleg-Sryck, today a Tel Aviv resident, was born in 1926, less than a decade after the October Revolution. Like everyone who was interviewed for this article, she terms herself a communist, even if she doesn’t belong to Israel’s Communist Party (she left in 1965, when the party split in two, and she didn’t join either branch).                  

I asked her what it means to be a communist in 2017. “With the world turning bad, the choice of communism appears increasingly correct. Morally speaking, the basic principles of communism have proved themselves. For example, equality between all peoples, equal rights for every person, and the principle of ‘from each according to his ability, to each according his needs.’                  

“It’s not just economic equality. Each person should be allowed to be whatever he wants. What’s not allowed is discrimination, meaning to be a racist. I recently read Yuri Slezkine’s book ‘The Jewish Century.’ He offers marvelous data about the Jews in the communist revolution. It was actually a Jewish revolution; the percentage of Jews involved was astronomical.”                  

Peleg-Sryck finds a link between her life’s project to defend the human rights of the Palestinians, and the communist approach: “It was the embodiment of my communist principles. In the civil-rights movement, there is the left and there is something close to the right, even though people don’t like to hear that. For example, the Association for Civil Rights in Israel didn’t recognize until recently that there are also economic rights or workers’ rights. Nor do they take into consideration possible victims of freedom of expression. ACRI supported the march of the Kahanist right in Umm al-Fahm. I had a problem with that, but I wasn’t able to persuade them. The feeling in some human-rights organizations is that Jews are worth more. And a person who was raised in communism can’t be a racist.”                  

Do you see any prospect that the world will soon move toward communism?       

“I’ve despaired of that. At the moment, there may be no prospect, but there is a need.”    

"The Israeli left exploits Arab workers"                  

Albert “the Bulgarian” Salomon, 83, upholsterer                  

For many years, the upholstery shop owned by Albert “the Bulgarian” in central Tel Aviv served as a center for street dwellers, artists and people who wanted to talk in the morning and listen to him play the accordion. When he retired five years ago, he abandoned his kingdom (“That was a mistake”). While looking for people to interview, I remembered Albert because of the pictures that decorated his workshop – one of Karl Marx next to one of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Finding him was easy, thanks to a Facebook page created for him by his grandchildren.  

“Communism is Torah,” he explains to me. “It’s like the Bible. A person who’s read the Bible in a yeshiva might stop being religious, but deep within he doesn’t forget the heder. And he’ll want Kaddish said for him after he dies. It’s the same for a communist. The most beautiful period of my childhood, between 1944 and 1948, was when I was in the Young Communists in Bulgaria. They taught me the meaning of love of humanity, helping others and peace. When I came to Israel, I tried to become part of the Communist Youth Alliance, which was based in Jaffa and was full of Bulgarians.”                  

Salomon left the party and its youth movement at the beginning of the 1950s, though he remained a communist. The Korean War, which erupted in 1950, was a turning point in the history of young, socialist Israel. David Ben-Gurion chose to side with the United States and even plotted to send soldiers to fight in the war. A demonstration against that war on Allenby Street in Tel Aviv was met by police brutality.                   

“We marched with posters,” Albert recalls, “and we were beaten by mounted policemen. That broke me, and I left the movement. But the ideology remained. I am a communist idealist, not a functionary.”                  

Did you vote for the local communist parties?                  

“No, but in my heart I always felt like a communist. I have tattoos with communist symbols – Lenin and Che Guevara. I was a dreamy youth and I dreamed about them all the time. But I don’t like the left.”                  

A communist who doesn’t like the left?                  

“The left in Israel is hypocritical – a left that uses Arab workers and exploits them. The wealthy in Israel are in the left, you know. I am first of all an Israeli, then a communist. There’s no better place than Israel. [Max] Nordau said that every ideal that’s fulfilled ceases to be an ideal, and that’s true of communism, too. I prefer communism as an ideal. I believe that the sheen of capitalism will be revealed to be false and that the sparks of communism will flare up again. As Lenin said, the east will rise on our street. People will understand the reality. In Bulgaria, 30 years after perestroika, people miss communism. There was no luxury then, it’s true, but there was tranquility.”  

"We preserved the principle of Jewish-Arab partnership"                  

Tamar Gozansky, 77, politician                  

When one talks about communism in Israel, it’s hard not to think of Tamar Gozansky, one of the most activist MKs in the country’s history. Long before social justice became fashionable, Gozansky sponsored social-justice legislation that also benefited many who didn’t vote for her party (Hadash).                  

She joined the Young Communists at the age of 14. For 17 years she edited the movement’s mouthpiece Zo Haderekh (This Is the Way). She retired from the party’s central committee five years ago, in order to pave the way for a younger leadership. Gozansky, who always placed action and ideas before politicians themselves, didn’t want her photo taken. As a result, we asked another interviewee, the artist Zoya Cherkassky, to paint her picture.                  

What does it mean to be a communist in 2017?                  

“Being a communist has nothing to do with a particular year. Communism is a worldview, an aspiration to make society more just, to remove wars from the agenda. To see every person as a whole world. To see human needs as no less important than the needs of society as a whole.”                  

Communist parties or people who espouse ideas close to communism are achieving leadership or near-leadership positions, such as the Syriza party in Greece or Jeremy Corbyn in Britain. But Hadash [one of the four component parties of the Joint List] continues to hover around four Knesset seats.                  

“The Communist Party established Hadash as a Jewish-Arab movement under very specific conditions, in 1977, on the eve of Likud’s ascent to power, when the Labor Party basically collapsed. From our point of view as communists, the decisive thing is not the size of the party but the degree to which we can build cooperative ventures. We will not succeed in fomenting deep political changes on our own. The precondition for a leftward turn is not the size of the party. First of all, the path has to be correct, that’s the decisive element. Do you know how many people told me, ‘We have no problem voting for you, but stop working with the Arabs’?”                  

That’s what prevented the party from growing?                  

“From the establishment of the Palestine Communist Party in 1919 to this day, we have worked under tough conditions. There were always the urgent political issues, the struggle against nationalism and coping with anti-communist persecution. The achievement is that in these complex circumstances we succeeded in preserving a Jewish-Arab partnership. When I look back, the history of the Communist Party in the Land of Israel is a source of pride.”

"Communism and feminism go well together"                  

Fathia Sageer, 62, teacher                  

The communist consciousness of Fathia Sageer, a retired teacher from the Galilee city of Shfaram and head of the Arab-Jewish, feminist Democratic Women’s Movement, dates back to when she was 19. “When I completed high school, I looked for a place to continue my studies and for funding. I got hooked on meetings of the veteran communists. I loved to hear them talk about the rights of the Palestinian people and the struggle for peace. Communism is hard to achieve in Israel’s political situation, but I try to apply its principles in my day-to-day life and to transmit them to the group of women who work with me and in my children’s education.”                  

Sageer grew up under the impact of her parents having left their native village of al-Damun, northeast of Haifa, in 1948. “My parents were moved to Tamra, three kilometers away. My father’s dream was to return home, to return to his land, but he died at the age of 44. After his death I was left with the dreams. I found what I needed in the Communist Party in Tamra and in the May Day demonstrations. Communism and feminism go well together. Communist theory doesn’t discriminate between women and men. I was in Moscow two years ago, and women were [still] crying because the communist regime had been destroyed. In the new regime, the main losers are women, children and old people who lost their rights.”                  

Looking back, how do you view the great crimes of communism?                  

“There were mistakes along the way, but also achievements. If only we could achieve a situation in which the wealth would be divided among the people, and there would not be only a small layer of very rich and all the others very poor.”                  

If Hadash in its various forms used to be the central party among the Arabs in Israel, today’s young people appear to prefer a different alternative.                  

“The Islamic stream caught those who lost hope. Many view religion as a place to escape to. When they can’t find answers to questions of poverty, they find religion to be a place in which they feel safe. I’m pleased to be on the side of communism and not in other places – of capitalism or fundamentalism.”

"Swinish capitalism has taken over the world"                  

Faten Ghattas, 57, a director of the Israel Cancer Association                  

Faten Ghattas, from the Galilee village of Rameh, was a philosophy student in Bulgaria from 1985 to 1990, in the waning period of the communist regime there. As a Marxist-oriented philosopher, he found few job offers in his field back in Israel, and switched to management. He is currently the director of activity of the Israel Cancer Association among the country’s Arab population.                  

“The capitalist model is fragile, it’s obvious that it can’t go on like this. Despite the false illusion of freedom and democracy, there is regression in every sphere in the West. We see democracy as it is in the United States, for example. Communism brought results even for those didn’t really believe in communism. Thanks to the revolution, the social-democratic model was created in northern Europe, as a counterweight to communism. Many people were happy at the fall of the Soviet Union, but afterward swinish capitalism took control of the whole world.”                  

Maybe it would be better to give up on social democracy and not try to achieve communism, which led also to such tragic results?                  

“It’s not that there is one formula. There are clearly a number of approaches, and it’s also clear that the road is long.”                  

What was it like living under a communist regime?                  

“It was very interesting, but there were many paradoxes. People lived excellently in Bulgaria under communism but dreamed of capitalism, on the assumption that it would produce a better life. From my visits in recent years, it looks as though they have only regressed in terms of the living standard.”                  

Can you give examples of mistakes made by communism?                  

“People should have been given more freedom, allowed to move toward a freer economy. Lenin himself, a few years after the revolution, decided to change direction and grant the farmers more freedom, and that was a greater change than he’d thought originally. The reality should have been grasped more quickly, and more flexibility allowed. Communism erred in not understanding that people need to live better now, and not in another hundred years. I also saw the transition from communism. People celebrated Christianity. It shouldn’t be a big deal to go to church; communism should have allowed them to do that.”  

"Communism isn’t just Stalin"                  

Zoya Cherkassky-Nnadi, 40, artist                  

Zoya Cherkassky is a prominent artist, a member of the New Barbizon group of local female artists who were born in the Soviet Union. She herself was born in Kiev and immigrated to Israel at the age of 15. In contrast to many other immigrants from the former USSR who have a conniption fit when they see a red flag, Cherkassy, who now lives in Ramat Gan, considers herself a communist.                  

“In my childhood I really believed in communism,” she says. “Communism has become a term of ridicule and has lost its honor. When I arrived in Israel I was totally anti-communist – communism looked like the worst thing going. Many people from the Soviet Union who came to Israel felt that they had entered the Free World. But as in the [former] communist bloc, in Israel, too, young people who were born in the Soviet Union feel very disappointed in capitalism. They came to understand that it is not a liberal paradise with equal rights and equal opportunities. Our parents’ generation is under the illusion that they didn’t succeed because of personal failure, but the young generation sees the failings of the capitalist system, despite the anti-communist propaganda.”                  

Wasn’t the communist system also a failure – the millions killed by Stalin?

“There has never been a true communist state: namely, a society in which there is no money. It wasn’t fully realized, and it failed. Along with terrible things, there were truly good things. I do not admire Stalin. Communism isn’t just Stalin.”                  

What do you parents think about your love affair with communism?                  

“My father is an old Stalinist and is pleased with my views. My mother doesn’t care.”                  

A year ago, Cherkassy took part in a conference of Soviet artists in Prague. Communist-era art exercises a considerable influence on her work, she relates. “At the time of the Soviet Union’s collapse, we thought that Soviet art was shit, Soviet garbage, but many groups are now referencing the Soviet period in their painting. There are materials that you can work with and continue to develop. That art has been unjustly neglected.”                  

"The October Revolution was a great achievement for humanity"                 

Basil Hala’ila, 22, sociology student                  

Basil Hala’ila, who grew up in the Upper Galilee town of Majdal al-Krum, is about to complete a degree in sociology and political science at the University of Haifa. “As Marx said, philosophers want to interpret the world, and as a communist I aspire to change the world,” says Hala’ila, who has led campaigns to improve the conditions of the maintenance staff at the university.                  

What is your model for communism? The Soviet Union? Cuba?                  

“The October Revolution led by Lenin was a great achievement for humanity in terms of establishing a meta-national state and equality for the proletariat. But after Lenin’s death, Stalin took power and the project went awry. The internal suppression he introduced is contrary to the communist idea. Cuba was an interesting experiment. It put an end to the rule of the corrupt tyrant Batista. Despite the blockade and the sanctions on the part of the United States, they have one of the best health systems in the world, and free education. With all the positive aspects of life in Sweden and Norway, those countries live by the rules of the free market. Naturally, in a choice between a capitalist Israel or a welfare state, I would prefer a welfare state, but I aspire to more.”                  

Hala’ila’s father was head of Communist Youth in Majdal al-Krum in the 1970s. Of his childhood, the student relates now, “I was born into a leftist atmosphere. I absorbed a socialist atmosphere at home. But for quite a long period I was apolitical. I didn’t care much.” He became class-conscious at the age of 17, when he read “The Communist Manifesto.”                  

When you talk to your peers about class consciousness, they probably say that you’re badgering them with Marx.                  

“The existing social situation also affects apolitical young people. Issues such as rent, living standards and family relations preoccupy them. I am not speaking at a boring philosophical level. Marx’s ideas can be conveyed to everyone in the world. Communism is also expressed in my day-to-day behavior. In the aspiration to be a caring person who helps others. I will not place myself in the position of being an exploiter.”                  

How is that reflected in practice?                  

“I’m currently looking for employment, and it was suggested that I send my curriculum vitae to one of the financial firms that sell dreams and steal money. I declined to go there.”     

"The 2011 protest movement made me aware of social issues"

Keshet Zamir, 18, waitress

Keshet Zamir, from Haifa, does volunteer work in the Socialist Struggle, a small left-wing movement. Her primary activity is in gender issues. Firebrand speeches she delivered in local SlutWalk events are available on YouTube. Her first activity after joining the movement, when she was 15, was organizing a protest against schools that didn’t allow girls to wear skimpy attire. “That wasn’t a protest against the teachers, but against a system that tells girls to be ashamed of their body and blames the victim. Like, if you wear skimpy clothes don’t be surprised if you’re harassed. In the case of boys, it’s not an issue. We wanted to advance sex and gender education for children of all ages.”

How did you come to join the Socialist Struggle movement? 

“My mother is a member, too. And the protest movement of 2011 made me aware of social issues. I went with my parents to demonstrations. We think about university at an early age and understand what it means economically. What it means to find housing when the jobs that are available pay only minimum wage. The capitalist system has failed completely. So long as the system wants only to increase profits and no one thinks about pausing to shift to green energy, it’s not clear how humanity will survive. It’s hard to be a young person growing up in Israel, with rounds of war every two-three years. An alternative has to be found.”

Didn’t the word “communism” scare your friends in high school?

“No. It only challenged them. Communism also had amazing achievements. Russia was the first country to give an equal wage and equal work, and day-care centers, in order to liberate women from housework. Communism wasn’t only Stalinism and a dictatorial system that oppressed people.”

What are your plans for the future?

“I want to study classical singing at a music academy. Beyond that, my life choice is socialism. That will always be central in my life.”

[marinsawakening]

Fake dating? Then they realise they're way better as a qpr, and switch to that?

This is 2000+ words and got way out of hand, hence why it took so long. Also, I changed the prompt slightly to an already established qpr (not that that comes up until the last possible second), and there’s only one explicitly arospec character, but for the record, Ed is totally nebularomantic in this. Warnings are minimal, except for extensive swearing and some sexual references. Lastly: No editing we die like men.

Summary: AU where Ed, Winry, Al, and Paninay are master thiefs planning a heist for various large diamonds, and in order to succeed, Ed and Winry go undercover as a married couple. 

This wasn’t going as planned. Or, more accurately: this was going exactly as planned, and he absolutely hated it.

As predicted, the crusty old nobles had bought the charade hook, line, and sinker, and now all that was left to do was scout the territory, grab the jewels, and vanish into the night. Problem was, neither Al nor Paninya had given the signal yet, and so he was stuck actually pretending to date Winry, exactly as they had planned.

“Your wife is lovely, Mr. Rockbell-Elric,” purred the old fuck they were planning to rob next to him, and Ed drained his wine in one swig. Winry was entertaining some socialites further up the buffet table, but she threw him a pointed glare. Keep off the wine, it warned, you have a job to do.

In response, Ed rolled his eyes.

“I see she’s not a fan of drink, though,” Old Fuck said, bemused. “Mine isn’t either. After we got married, she put me on a strict no-alcohol policy, as if I’m some child that can’t handle my liquor!”

“Must be tough,” Ed managed to spit out from behind gritted teeth. Thankfully, Old Fuck was too self-absorbed to notice a thing.

“Truly! Women, I swear, always nagging, and nagging, and nagging, as if we cannot think for ourselves! I wish my wife would shut up and think about me for once. But, well, I suppose it could be worse; after all, she does have a nice pair of -”

“Lord D’Argent!” Winry interrupted right before Ed would have been forced to smash the Fuck’s head in, with a smile that dialed up the ass-kissing to eleven. “May I express my gratitude for being invited to your party? Winry Rockbell-Elric, at your service. I see you’ve met my husband?”

“Oh yes!” Old Fuck - D’Argent, and yes he had actually known that, he just didn’t particularly care - swung an arm over Ed’s shoulder, and it took every ounce of self restraint he had not to slice if off right then and there, but he managed, and even conjured up a smile. “Lovely man, excellent taste in wine. You’ve got yourself quite a catch, Ms. Rockbell-Elric.”

“Please, call me Winry.” She held out a gloved hand for D’Argent to kiss, who eagerly complied. “After all, we’re all friends here, are we not?”

“Quite! I’ll be terribly sorry to see you go tonight.”

Us and your priced jewels, Ed thought, and the smile on his face became slightly more real.

“About that,” Winry began, voice smooth as a dagger. “I’m afraid I must ask you for a favor. See, I have been informed by one of your staff that, unfortunately, some saboteur seems to have slashed the tires of my automobile, and as I am not currently in the possession of a replacement, I will need to stay here until the garage can send men to help us repair it.”

And, just like that, Ed’s smile slipped off his face.

“I’m sorry?” Ed exclaimed. “Our car has been sabotaged?”

It was bullshit, obviously. There was no saboteur in the world who could out-sabotage Winry, and they definitely had some replacement tires hiding around the car. The car being supposedly so damaged that they’d need to wait for professional non-Winry help could only mean one thing: Al and Paninya had encountered more difficulties than expected, and now they were moving on to plan B.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” Winry replied, honey dripping off her smile.

Ed fucking hated plan B even more than he hated plan A.

“That’s terrible!” Lord D’Argent said indignantly, wiggling his overly large mustache. “I cannot believe some scoundrel would have the nerve to do this on my grounds! You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. and Ms. Rockbell-Elric, and of course I welcome you to stay at my home for as long as you need.”

“Much obliged, Lord D’Argent.” Winry made a quick courtesy, and, after a beat too long, Ed followed her example and bowed. “Much obliged,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “You have our thanks.”

“Nonsense! It’s the least I could do for such lovely newly weds.”

On moments like these, Ed really wished there was a God above, just so he could have someone to strangle.

///

“What the fuck?” he hissed, as soon as they’d been left in their assigned rooms. Winry was unimpressed.

“The safe was tougher than we’d anticipated, and Paninya can’t crack it. Al slashed the tires and hid the replacements so that we’d have an excuse to stay longer. I’m going to join them at the safe tonight, so that me and Paninya can hopefully break through together.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then the brakes of our car and those of the D’Argents will ‘mysteriously’ be cut, making it impossible for us to move out just yet.”

“Fuck.” Ed fell back on the bed, burying his head in his arms. “Fuck. I’d agreed to one night of fake marriage, one night.”

“Don’t be such a baby, you can last for a day or so more.”

“Our backstory can’t!”

“Then we’ll just need to work on it more.” Winry gently sat on the other side of the bed, her face softening slightly as she looked at him. “Look, Ed, neither of us likes this very much, but we need to get those jewels. You know that.”

Ed didn’t answer, and finally, Winry just sighed.

“Fine, be like that. But we’ll still need to work on our cover.”

“We married last spring, you’re pregnant, we’re naming the baby Fuck You.”

“Maybe something a little less crude, but I like the pregnancy bit.”

“I don’t.”

“Tough. I vote we name the baby Urey if it’s a guy or Sarah if it’s a girl.”

“Really? Naming them after your dead parents?”

“It’s just the kind of drama the D’Argents will eat up.”

“And what if the kid is actually nonbinary, hm?”

“Ed, we all know that in high society, trans people don’t exist.”

“Are we having a gender reveal party too?”

“Obviously.”

That actually managed to get a laugh from Ed, who promptly tried to smother it. Winry smiled down at him, her whole being radiating smugness. “See? It won’t be that bad.”

“Okay, fine.” Ed tried to hide his grin as he sat up proper. “Let’s fuck with some rich people.”

///

After Ed had accepted his cruel fate, it was actually not as bad as he’d feared.

“We’re planning to name the child Urey or Sarah, after Winry’s parents,” he said, a small but proud (and very fake) smile on his face, and he glanced at Winry from the corner of his eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes in a way that was almost cartoonish, but she pecked him on the cheek and the D’Argents practically melted in front of his eyes.

“That’s so terribly sweet,” Lady D’Argent cooed, leaning forward with a hungry look in her face. “What made you settle on them? Me and my husband have been arguing for ages about baby names, and yet, we haven’t been able to reach any consensus.”

They probably thought that they were being subtle, but if looks could kill, the D’Argent couple would have committed murder several times over during this dinner. Not for the first time, Ed wished he could break cover to yell ‘Get a divorce!’. Sadly, he had to settle for: “She suggested it, and it was so absolutely perfect, I didn’t see a reason to argue. We don’t argue all that much, honestly!”

It was a blatant, horrid lie, and Winry quickly turned her laugh into a cough. “It’s true,” she added. “It’s as if we were made for each other.”

“When did you first fall in love?” Lady D’Argent said, pointedly not looking at Lord D’Argent.

“We’ve simply never not known,” Winry answered, hanging just a little closer to Ed to emphasize the point.

“Yes,” Ed added. “She’s always felt very different than all the other friends I had. Totally. Very distinct.”

“Oh, I completely understand what you mean,” Lady D’Argent said, and she grabbed Lord D’Argent’s hand, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to run away. “When I first saw my dear Micheal, I immediately knew he was the one.”

“Love at first sight, yes, very romantic.”

“Ed, honey, haven’t you had enough wine for the day?”

“Why, Winry, my darling, don’t you want a glass as well?”

“Oh, I’d rather drink something else, if we may excuse ourselves to the bedroom?”

“Oh, yes, of course, we wouldn’t want to keep you,” Lady D’Argent replied, slightly green, although whether it was with disgust or envy, Ed couldn’t say.

“Thank you very much, my lady.” Winry inclined her head and, leaning on Ed a little heavier than necessary, with Ed’s arm wrapped around her a little tighter than normal, they left the banquet.

Back in the safety of their rooms, Ed burst out laughing.

“ ‘I’d rather drink something else’? Holy shit, Winry.”

“Got the job done, didn’t it?” She grinned smugly at him, before quickly switching demeanor to serious. “Alright, we need to get started.”

“Right.”

Quickly, they got to work. Ed opened the bag, pulling out a length of rope he handed to Winry, who had opened up the window and proceeded to tie the rope securely around the window sill, ready to be climbed on. They were on the ground without a sound, ran across the courtyard like shadows, and ducked into the western wing like ghosts, making their way to the safe perfectly unseen. Al and Paninya were waiting for them, just as planned.

“You lovebirds getting busy?” Paninya asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Apparently, Winry’s thirsty tonight,” Ed replied in deadpan.

“And Ed’s too drunk to stop me from ravaging him,” Winry agreed, also in complete seriousness.

“Guys, can we please make jokes about Ed and Winry fucking after we’ve stolen the priceless treasure?”  Al said, desperately.

“Al, don’t you know that love is the greatest treasure of all?” Paninya placed a hand over her heart. “I cannot believe I’m in cahoots with such a heartless monster.”

“Next time, I’m vetoing the marriage cover. For my sanity. I do not want to think about my brother having sex ever again.”

“How about we just swap you and Ed, then? You get to fake date your childhood friend!”

Al stared at her, completely unimpressed. “Right,” he said. “Because of course, sending in the aromantic to pretend to be in love will go way better than last time.”

Last time, there had been an on-fire clown.

“Fair enough,” Paninya rescinded. “And anyway, you’re right. We’ve got work to do.”

“Finally!” Winry exclaimed, putting on the safety goggles with a gigantic grin on her face. “Stand back. This’ll get hot.”

Dutifully, Ed stood back, and watched the show.

///

The diamonds in the safe were as big as his fist, and well worth the stupid charade. They even managed to get out of the mansion without too much of a fight.

“I can’t believe you bust your arm up again,” Winry muttered, looking at the mess of wires hanging out of his elbow. “They only shot five times!”

“You were in the line of fire for that fifth shot! Be glad I saved your life!”

“I’ll be glad when you stop giving me more work!”

“Lovebirds, could you tone it down? I’m trying to sleep.”

“We’re not in love!” came Ed and Winry’s chorus. Paninya just snorted.

“Right. Shut up either way, please.”

///

Truth was, Ed didn’t hate romance covers on principle. They could be fun, if he was allowed to turn them up to eleven just to fuck with people; if he was allowed to exaggerate, they could be quite a bit of fun to act.

Mostly, he hated the doubt that came after.

In their little shack, Al and Paninya took the two beds to sleep, while Ed and Winry took the first watch. They were in the middle of nowhere, forest stretching out endlessly across all sides, the starts shining bright in an onyx sea.

“Winry?”

“Hm?”

“So, in the hypothetical scenario that we’d ever get kids, what’d we name them?”

“Nothing to do with our dead parents. That’s just creepy.”

“It’s -” Ed hesitated for a second, shifting awkwardly. “I’m serious.”

Winry stared at him for a second, and he looked away. “You actually want to get kids?”

“I mean, I don’t know? I probably wouldn’t be parent of the year, with one deadbeat dad and one normally dead mother, but you know, I think I’d kind of like to try?” He knew that he was rambling at this point, but didn’t stop. “And I mean, is it even possible? I mean, what we’ve got is already weird, but I definitely don’t want it to be romantic, but I don’t know if you can get kids together without it being romantic?”

“Ed,” Winry cut him off. “When have we ever followed the rules?”

Looking at Winry, whose eyes twinkled like diamonds in the moonlight, he slowly grinned.

[hellyeahsupermanandwonderwoman]

So the Death of Superman animated movie recently leaked online. And I saw it. This is my review. 

SPOILERS AHEAD.

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This movie is waste of time for SuperWonder, Wonder Woman and Justice League fans. It shoe horns Superman and Lois Lane’s relationship out of nowhere. Clark and Diana “broke up” because....I really don’t know. But it makes no coherent sense or has no emotional connectivity to the last 4 movies in this animated verse loosely based on the new 52. 

Superman is a tad whiny and suddenly “loves” Lois who doesn’t even know he is Superman but he is dating her as Clark. Yet feels like Lois is on heat for Superman. LOL. Yeah. 

Like how, when, and why she even is with Clark was not even addressed.  So he is dating her and, lying his ass off  as half his self...um yeah so honest and such a great thing to do. She says doesn’t know much about him, but he says she knows him better than anyone else...Yet we don’t know what the hell she truly knows of him.

By the way Peter J Tomasi pens this so he of course tries to dump the blame on Diana. Why? Apparently she likes being truthful and not lying. Yeah. Wanting REAL truth  in a relationship and not hiding and living honestly is so bad. This Superman wants a woman do as he says and wants. Lois obliges for him. Easily. Because he tells her his little secret. She doesn’t have to do much else. But say she love him now. 

The villain is a waste of time and looks like Jeepers Creepers on steroids. The whole JL is nerfed so Superman can punch real hard and make google eyes at Lois. Lois who should actually be dead given she keeps jumping in the middle of their battle. 

The quality of the animation is not good. You just have to look at the trailers and see what I mean. It has taken a nose dive. If you like Batman or Flash or Cyborg or GL you see  little of them. If you love Aquaman you see nearly nothing. Wonder Woman gets a little more than the others but she is not really respected in this movie much either. And Jerry O’Connell who voices Superman sounds younger than his wife who plays Lois.She sounds much more mature.  I find they don’t really gel as a couple as he and Rosario did. 

The movie tries to mish mash an old 90ties story in the modern era and fails. It ignores the original set up and the new 52 set up and even the new 52 verse these movies are based on and to me it fails. 

This is really DC trying to Rebirth now on animation. They did their crapping of new 52 SMWW in comics now is time to do it in the animated movies. It lacks real emotion. You view Superman dying and don’t give a fuck. Like the DCEU. 

And Tomasi steals the new 52 SMWW moment of “What a lucky man I was...” and gives it to Superman and Lois. Talk about disrespecting the new 52 fans who bought the books and the DVDs. SMWW can’t even have their own moments preserved. DCAU is renown for this, stealing from smww and giving it blatantly to SMLL or BMWW. They did in it in The New Frontier and For The Man Who Has Everything. And clois fans say we steal from them and our pairing is easy. Pfft. I think they need to get their eyes checked and see what easy means. 

Anyway my suggestion? Go see if you can find that leak and look at it and save yr precious dollars. wait and download it free. It is not worth it unless you really don’t give a shit about organic story telling. WB are banking on using this JL and the new 52 look to try to get this tired, rehashed Death of Superman to sell. I don’t think they will succeed. 

It’s such a waste of good, original material from the new 52 to force a tired story with little emotional resonance. As a pure Superman fan I don’t even know how anyone can find this remotely riveting unless you are a clois fan who does not care how yr couple hook up. 

Also SuperWonder fans need to send DC a clear message: We are not chumps.  

Keep voting with yr wallet, SuperWonder fans! 

[dustedmagazine]

Voting with our ears: Dusted spends the rent on Bandcamp.com’s Voter Registration day

On September 25, Bandcamp.com held a fundraiser for the Voting Rights Project, seeking to raise both money and awareness around voter registration. For the day, all profits on everything you bought on Bandcamp.com went to this worthy cause. Dusted writers saw the opportunity to a) buy stuff and b) promote democracy and said, “Hell yes, we’re in.” Participating writers included Ian Mathers (who is Canadian!!), Justin Cober-Lake, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Isaac Olson (who definitely wins) and Ethan Covey. Check out what we bought and then, for the love of god, vote. We’re depending on you.

Ian Mathers

IDLES

For various reasons I wasn’t able to shop quite as avidly as I did last time we got together for one of these, but I managed to make one impulse purchase of a record I hadn’t heard yet (but had transfixed me with its singles) and combine that with two long-awaited additions of old favorites to my Bandcamp collection (and my hard drive, after having lost track of the files in one move or another). 

IDLES — Joy As an Act of Resistance 

Joy as an Act of Resistance. by IDLES

As you might guess from the fact that it just came out at the end of this August, Bristol’s IDLES is the impulse buy of the three, one that so far has worked out just wonderfully. Having been recommended the mockingly anti-Brexit(/xenophobia) “Great” on YouTube and being drawn from the immediately bracing, invigorating likes of that to this album’s more openhearted ode to the greatness of not hating people you don’t already know, “Danny Nedelko,” and the more Protomartyr-ish opening track “Colossus” (the latter of which also probably has my favorite music video of 2018), I couldn’t imagine any band capable of those three songs would somehow whiff the rest of a reasonably-lengthed LP, and the often political, always heartfelt Joy As an Act of Resistance. proved me right. There are certainly places where it gets darker (particularly “June,” where singer Joe Talbot relates in heart-wrenching fashion his wife losing a child to a miscarriage), but the overall feel of the album can be summed up by Talbot barking repeatedly at the listener to “love yourself” over a careening, punkish anthem. The album title isn’t a piss take, which is a relief in itself.  

 The Silent League — But You've Always Been the Caretaker...

But You've Always Been The Caretaker... by The Silent League

Back in 2004 I first heard of the Silent League, as I think most people did, because frontman Justin Russo had been in Mercury Rev (for 2001’s All Is Dream, the last Rev record I can say I fully loved), and their debut, The Orchestra, Sadly, Has Refused was interesting, lysergic chamber pop with some proggy and/or post-rock elements. I lost track of them for a bit after that album and was surprised that when I heard about them again it was because of an entirely different musician I was a fan of. Shannon Fields, then of Stars Like Fleas and since of Family Dynamics and Leverage Models (the last of which made my favorite record of 2013 and which is, incidentally, about to return), maker of a ton of records I both love and think have been overlooked, let me know that he’d also been a contributor to the Silent League for quite a while and that with their then-current album, 2010’s But You’ve Always Been the Caretaker… he thought they’d made something that represented a bit of a leap forward for the band. Not only do I agree, but the Silent League’s swan song (to date) now represents one of the most frustratingly overlooked records I know of, 15 sprawling songs in any number of registers, styles and tones tightly packed into less than 49 minutes that, fitting the circular and slightly foreboding title, packs a bunch of richly interwoven thematic and sonic depth into what feels like a whole universe of popular music. There’s proggy/ELO overture “When Stars Attack!!!,” the sound of a glam rock band practicing a particular soulful jam down the hall and four walls away on “Sleeper,” at least one just perfect string-led “perfect pop” song in “Resignation Studies,” and literally a dozen other things here. And yet But You’ve Always… never feels scattered or showoff-y. It’s a whole world, dense and rich and worthy of being studied in detail for its brilliance. I was thrilled to see it on Bandcamp, not least because this is exactly the kind of record that could easily slip through the cracks. 

 Tamas Wells — A Plea en Vendredi

(PB024) Tamas Wells: A Plea En Vendredi by Popboomerang

It’s been over a decade, but when I was in university I am pretty sure I first heard Australian singer-songwriter Tamas Wells because I saw the song “I’m Sorry That the Kitchen Is on Fire” somewhere and thought the title was hilarious. To my surprise the song itself was gorgeous, a gently folky little waltz with Wells’ high, gentle voice, carefully picked acoustic guitar, a lightly hypnotic piano refrain, and sparing hand claps. I fell hard enough for it that even back when the internet wasn’t at all what it is now I tracked down Wells’ 2006 album A Plea en Vendredi and found a shimmering little suite of song, some as gnomic and vaguely unsettling in their implications as “I’m Sorry That the Kitchen is on Fire” (like “Valder Fields,” which is apparently a place where our narrator and others mysteriously regain consciousness, or whatever you can make of “Lichen & Bees”), some much more plainspoken (including the slight political bent running through “The Opportunity Fair,” “The Telemarketer Resignation,” and the gorgeous little instrumental “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Ruling Class”), all just as twee-ly beautiful and enrapturing as my initial exposure had been. At the time Wells was working in Burma on a community development project, and from what I’ve been able to find his moving around and focus on non-music work has occasionally kept his album on the back burner, although he’s found an audience at home and in Japan and China (and of course, sometimes as far as Canada where I ran into his work). He’s kept releasing records since, most recently 2017’s The Plantation on a small Japanese label, but even if A Plea en Vendredi was all I’d ever been able to find it’d still find a regular place in my rotation; even when things get a bit darker, on “Valour” and the closing “Open the Blinds” there’s something so soothing about Wells’ music and this particular set of gem-like miniatures has been a go-to album for me during difficult times ever since.

Justin Cober-Lake 

David Ramirez

Ashley Walters — Sweet Anxiety (Populist)

Ashley Walters // Sweet Anxiety by Ashley Walters

I’d been wanting to hear this one for a while. I first noticed cellist Ashley Walters on Wadada Leo Smith's America's National Parks, a remarkable album that I spent considerable time with while writing a couple features on it and Smith (including interviewing Walters). I was even more impressed after understanding what went into the work and seeing that ensemble perform it live. Walters writes of this album, “I seek to challenge your perception of what the cello, a stereotypically gentle instrument, is capable of,” and it's fair to say she succeeds. It's a demanding listen, more aggressive than expected, but Walters and her composers blend technical challenges with theoretical ones. At times, Walters cuts loose, and at times she works with tonality, often using nonstandard tuning to odd effect. Smith composed one of the brightest numbers here, making a nice shift in sound without lowering the difficulty level. Luciano Berio's “Sequenza XIV” provides the most interesting piece, not only for the actual performance but for the reconstruction work on the score that Walters highlights in the liner notes. This one's well worth a focused listen, and I'll need to give it quite a few more to properly process it.  

 The Beths — Warm Blood (Carpark)

Warm Blood by The Beths

In August, the Beths released one of my favorite albums of the year, Future Me Hates Me, a blast of pop-rock easily good enough to warrant going back, more or less, to the beginning, with 2016's Warm Blood EP. Both lyrically and musically, the group hasn't quite found its footing, but that says more about the focused energy of the full-length than it does about these five songs (including “Whatever,” which reappears on the album). The hooks are there now; the guitar on “Idea/Intent” represents the band as well as anything. The vitriol of that track fits in less well with the attitude the band generally puts forward, one that's self-reflective and confident without claiming to know all the answers. Some of the joy of the music is in Elizabeth Stokes' searching, but that's turned around on a track like “Rush Hour 3,” a comedic bit of come-on (and the rare track not written by Stokes). Warm Blood works as a nice look back at a band, but it's not just a history lesson — it's an enjoyable set that adds to the playlist of a group with only one album out. 

 David Ramirez — The Rooster (Sweetworld)

The Rooster EP by David Ramirez

I've been working my way backwards with David Ramirez, too, starting with last year's We're Not Going Anywhere (which didn't adhere to his previous folk-ish sound but did make me wonder why I hadn't found my way to the songwriter earlier). After spending time with the fantastic Fables, there was the live show that utterly sold me on him, in part because he has a bigger voice than you might notice at first, even in his sparser productions. The Rooster EP, a fitting complement to that album, feels like an ascent. His vocals are assured, even as he searches for clarity, or at least anchor points amid turbulence. Tracks like “The Bad Days” and “Glory” offer unrequested hope, and “The Forgiven” provides a meditation on performance, art, and faith that's central to his work. The five cuts on this EP have the gravitas of something bigger and strengthen my sense that Ramirez should be a songwriter that everyone listens to.

 Grand Banks – Live 8-25-2018

Grand Banks live 8-25-2018 by Grand Banks

Any sort of bonus shopping day provides a good excuse to support local music. This time I went with the latest release (such as it is) from Grand Banks, their live recording from August 25. The duo don't shy away from volume, but their focus on minimalist ideas and sonic experimentation makes for unusual experiences. Over this single 30-minute track, the pair builds with patience, even when developing a haunted-house sort of melody on the keys. The second half of the piece increases the challenge, with guitarist Davis Salisbury pulling an odd series of sounds out of his instrument (for the curious, you can try it at home with an electric guitar, a tuning fork, and a fuzz pedal, and probably some sort of sonic laboratory). The effects build on Tyler Magill's creepy keyboard work – maybe this one's an unintended seasonal release. The study in space and harmonics gives way to a chirpy conversation and surprisingly (in this context) guitar-like guitar moment before placidly drifting away, an apt conclusion for the performance.

Jennifer Kelly

The Scientists 

I bought five different records this time, mostly, but not all, falling somewhere in the punk/garage continuum. I liked them all in different ways, but the one that absolutely killed me was…

IDLES—Joy as an Act of Resistance (Partisan)

Joy as an Act of Resistance. by IDLES

This is Ian’s fault, really. He talked me into it. Plus, it turned up on the Bandcamp recommendation engine. Which, by the way, is just so much better than Amazon’s recommendation engine. (I see you like the Pixies. Wanna buy every Pixies album ever?) But turns out, they’re both dead on. Idles is vitriolic and literate like the Sleaford Mods but backed by a ripped-to-the-teeth full band a la Protomartyr. Yes, two of my favorite current bands in one, plus a whole other thing of jagged, jitter-drunk percussion and wind tunnel howl. There is a song called “Never Fight a Man with a Perm.” So glad I got to hear this. Score one for voter registration.

 The Sueves—R.I.P. Clearance Event (Hozac)

R.I.P. Clearance Event by The Sueves

Butt-simple garage rock from Chicago, punctuated by weird little intervals of found sounds. Beautifully unhinged and uncomplicated, it reminds me the most of Demon’s Claw and after that maybe the Hunches and then the Monks. I bought it partly because I wanted to get those “we have a new record” notices from Hozac, but they know what I like.

 The Scientists—Blood Red River 1982-1984 (Numero)

Blood Red River 1982 - 1984 by Scientists

Guess who got to see the Scientists last week? They were awesome. They played “Frantic Romantic” in the encore (which is not on this disc, by the way). I knew some of the early stuff from the Do the Pop compilation of Australian punk, but immersing myself in these clanking, droning, post-punk juggernauts was the best and most enjoyable concert prep ever. “Solid Gold Hell” and “Swampland” were my two faves, and they played them both.

 Mike Pace and the Child Actors—Smooth Sailing (Self Starter Foundation)

Smooth Sailing by Mike Pace and the Child Actors

This one, from the former Oxford Collapse frontman, was a little more Raspberry-ish power pop than I was expecting, but it’s growing on me. “Escape the Noize” is my go-to track, a lush jangle of melancholy, a tetchy bristle of palm-muting, then a sweeping swooning chorus. It’s about leaving the music behind, which Pace clearly hasn’t, and good thing.  

Onoto—Dead Ghost (Taiyo)

DEAD GHOST by ONOTO

Let me the first to admit that I haven’t gotten to the bottom of this one, a swirling, enveloping miasma of guitar tone, wrapped around confoundingly weird vocal samples. “Shake Well for the Eye,” is droned-out chaos that parts like fog for bits of mid-20th century menstrual advice (avoid vigorous exercise, horse-riding, skating, cold showers, hah!). Other cuts eschew narrative for slow moving landscapes of instrumental tone. The title track lets guitar notes hang for unmovable eons, with only sharp shards of harmonics to break up the endless vistas. As a straight through listen, the disc makes more sense as you go along, meaning, you have to adapt to its oddity and it changes you.

Bill Meyer

 Canary records

Kemany Minas and Garabet Merjanian — When I See You: From the November 1917 Recordings, NYC (Canary) 

When I See You: From the November 1917 Recordings, NYC by Kemany Minas & Garabet Merjanian

Various Artists — And Two Partridges II: From the Earliest Turkish-, Arabic- Armenian-& Kurdish-Language Recordings in America, Feb-Aug, 1916 (Canary)

And Two Partridges II: From the Earliest Turkish-, Arabic- Armenian-& Kurdish-Language Recordings in America, Feb-Aug, 1916 by Canary Records

Various Artists — Oh My Soul: Armenian-American Independent Releases, vol. 1: ca. 1920-25 (Canary)  

Oh My Soul: Armenian-American Independent Releases, vol. 1: ca. 1920-25 by Canary Records

Various Artists — Why I Came to America: More Folk Music of the Ottoman-American Diaspora, ca. 1917-47 (Canary)

Why I Came to America: More Folk Music of the Ottoman-American Diaspora, ca. 1917-47 by Canary Records

I buy stuff via Bandcamp fairly often, and my purchases are nearly always hard copies. Downloads may be convenient, but a record you can’t hold in your hands seems to me to be one of those bad 21st century ideas like a Trump presidency or an unrepentant frat-creep on the supreme court. But when Bandcamp puts its income behind a cause, I relent, and when I do, I buy downloads from Canary Records. These albums are all compiled from recordings made by Anatolian exiles who fled genocide, war and poverty to take their chances in the USA. Many of these recordings predate the first blues records, and collectively they make a case that our notions of what constitutes American music are needlessly exclusive. After all, why should the music of people who came here from the Ottoman Empire be any less American than people who came here from the British Empire?  

 Billy Gomberg — Live Sets 2016-18

live sets 2016-18 by Billy Gomberg

Well, there go the rules. This DL-only compilation of concert performances by one of my favorite ambient recording artists of recent years shows that the carefully wrought, ultra-deep atmosphere of his recent cassettes is no fluke.

 Various Artists — Two Niles To Sing A Melody: The Violins & Synths Of Sudan (Ostinato)  

Two Niles to Sing a Melody: The Violins & Synths of Sudan by Various Artists

Back on solid ground at last! This hardcover book + 2 CDs (there are also vinyl and DL versions) shows how sounds blur from one culture to the next when people live along the same rivers and coasts. These recordings from the Sudan blend the nimble rhythms and ardent longing of Arabic pop with just a hint of the sinuous melodic quality of Ethiopian popular music. 

 Tashi Wada with Yoshi Wada and Friends — FRKWYS Vol. 14—Nue (RVNG)

FRKWYS Vol. 14 - Nue by Tashi Wada with Yoshi Wada and Friends

If you’ve caught Tashi and Yoshi Wada in concert, you know that there’s no louder or more mind-melting drone that a drone that incorporates multiple bagpipes and alarm bells. This record puts Wada fils in the composer / arranger’s seat, and while it uses the same materials as those live performances, the music is much gentler. Sometimes you want to boil your blood, sometimes you just want to kick back and zone out. A portion of the proceeds from this record will go to the National Immigration Law Center.

Isaac Olson

Ustad Abdul Karim Khan

Toshiya Tsunoda/Taku Unami — Wovenland (Erstwhile)

Wovenland by Toshiya Tsunoda/Taku Unami

I bought this collection of chopped and screwed  field recordings on the strength of Marc Medwin’s review and the fact that Erstwhile dedicated their profits for the day to the Voting Rights Project. Pieces like “Park cleaning / Crickets chirping,” “In The Park”,  “From the rooftop, railway terminal station” are both ear-tickling and intellectually stimulating. The rest are more stimulating intellectually than auditorially.

 The Weather Station—S/T (Paradise of Bachelors)

The Weather Station by The Weather Station

I slept on The Weather Station in 2017 because the music didn’t grab me enough I wasn’t interested enough in the music to tune into the lyrics.  I’m not sure what compelled me to give it another try, but I’m glad I did. Songwriter Tamara Lindeman has crafted a compelling take on early adulthood in an anxious age, one that, once I started paying attention, resonated with me in a highly personal manner I haven’t felt or sought in years. The b-side is almost too subtle, but Lindeman is a sharp enough writer to bring it off.

 Red River Dialect—Broken Stay Open Sky (Paradise of Bachelors)  

Broken Stay Open Sky by Red River Dialect

This is another record where the words carry the music, which means, like The Weather Station, I initially passed it over only to connect with it in unexpectedly personal ways after honing in on the lyrics. While I loved the fiddling from the jump, it took time for the rest of Broken Stay Open Sky to grow on me, but grow it did. (Check out Eric McDowell’s review here).

 Ustad Abdul Karim Khan—Ustad Abdul Karim Khan (Canary Records)

Ustad Abdul Karim Khan: 1934-1935 by Abdul Karim Khan

Classical Indian vocal music is a complex, highly systematized artform that I can’t pretend to understand, so rather than take my recommendation that you should listen to these recordings, take LaMonte Young’s: “When I first heard the recordings of Abdul Karim Khan I thought that perhaps it would be best if I gave up singing, got a cabin up in the mountains, stocked it with a record player and recordings of Abdul Karim Khan, and just listened for the rest of my life”.

 VA—100 Moons: Hindustani Vocal Art, 1930​-​55 (Canary Records)

100 Moons: Hindustani Vocal Art, 1930-55 by Canary Records

A traditional performance of a raga can last hours. A 78 can hold about three minutes of music.

As such, the performances on this collection lack the the breadth and depth of a traditional raga performance, but they more than make up for it in intensity.

 Ross Hammond and Jon Balfus— Masonic Lawn (Self Released)

Masonic Lawn by Ross Hammond and Jon Bafus

Sacramento guitarist and improviser Ross Hammond (whose record with Hindustani vocalist Jay Nair  is also worth your time) teams up with percussionist Jon Balfus for a set of blues and folk inspired  improvisations that manage to feel spacious despite the dense polyrhythmic approach. Masonic Lawn’s improvisations are optimistic, wide-eyed meditations on Americana.

 Melvin Wine—Cold Frosty Morning (Roane Records)

Cold Frosty Morning by Melvin Wine

Old-time music, like most folk traditions that arose in relative isolation and pre-date the record industry, isn’t particularly well suited for album-length listening. That said, if you’re in the mood for scratchy, crooked, dance and trance tunes, West Virginia fiddler Melvin Wine is a great introduction to the distinctly non-bluegrassy mysteries of this music.  

Note: This recording features a minstrel tune titled “Jump Jim Crow”.  How we’re to deal with this in the modern, right-wing nightmare age we inhabit is a complicated question, so if you’re digging this music but that title bothers you (and it should), check out these articles by Rhiannon Giddens and Michael Mechanic. 

 V/A—Usiende Ukalale: Omutibo From Rural Kenya (Olvido Records)

Usiende Ukalale: Omutibo From Rural Kenya by Various Artists

Like the Melvin Wine recording above, Usiende Ukalale exhibits a local folk style that evolved in relative isolation and is, for the non-local and non-expert, enchanting in small doses and merely pleasant over the course of a full album.

 VA—I’m Not Here to Hunt Rabbits: Guitar and Folk Styles from Botswana (Piranha Records) 

I'm Not Here To Hunt Rabbits by Various Artists

I reviewed this one back in May and I’ve listened to it so many times since that it was high time to buy it. Highest recommendation.

 Jess Sah Bi & Peter One—Our Garden Needs Its Flowers (Awesome Tapes from Africa)

Our Garden Needs Its Flowers by Jess Sah Bi & Peter One

This unusual gem combines the loping rhythms, slide guitar and harmonica of American country music with traditional Ivory Coast village songs. Its breezy Bakersfield meets Yamoussoukro vibe belies its anti-apartheid lyrics. Mp3s of this one have been floating around the internet for a few years, so it’s great to see it get an official re-release.

 Ola Belle Reed—FRC 203 - Ola Belle Reed: Recordings from the collection of Ray Alden and the Brandywine Friends of Old Time Music

FRC 203 - Ola Belle Reed: Recordings from the collection of Ray Alden and the Brandywine Friends of Old Time Music by Ola Belle Reed

From the indispensable Field Recorders Collective, this release documents a 1973 performance by Ola Belle Reed. Reed’s music exists at the nexus of old-time, bluegrass, early country, and gospel, but it feels wrong to box in the wisdom, humor, and generosity of spirit that shines through this release with anachronistic genre tags. Best of all is the Reed original, “Tear Down the Fences”: “Then we could tear down the fences that fence us all in/Fences created by such evil men/Oh we could tear down the fences that fence us all in /Then we could walk together again.”  Amen.

 Ragana— You Take Nothing 

YOU TAKE NOTHING by RAGANA

I don’t listen to as much metal as I used to, but while this fundraiser was happening, Brett Kavanaugh — case study in patriarchal resentment and mediocrity — got one step closer to a lifetime appointment on the Supreme Court. Ragana’s raw, sludgy, anarcha-feminist take on black metal really hit the spot that day.

Ethan Covey

Weak Signal

Omit — Enclosures 2011-2016 (Pica Disk/End of the Alphabet)

Enclosures 2011-2016 by Omit

Clinton Williams, the New Zealander known as Omit, has been quietly releasing nocturnal electronic compositions of uncompromising quality for the past couple of decades. Enclosures 2011-2016, released jointly by Lasse Marhaug’s Pica Disk and Noel Meek’s End of the Alphabet labels, provides an overview of five years of Williams’ output in a 30-track, six-hour package, available digitally and as a limited 5-CD set. Omit has previously been anthologized on two compilations courtesy of the Helen Scarsdale label, Tracer and Interceptor. And past releases have popped up via Corpus Hermeticum and PseudoArcana, as well as — most prominently — Williams’ own Deepskin Conceptual Mindmusic imprint. Great listening, all, if you can find ‘em. For those curious to dive in without too much digging, Enclosures is ideal. Much of Williams’ genius lies in composing tracks that are edgy, yet beautiful, creepy and experimental, yet profoundly listenable. It’s forward-thinking electronic composition that checks a lot of avant-garde boxes without feeling like a task. There’s a subtle, krautrock propulsion to the best tracks — the opening “Turner,” the “Echo Dot” pieces — where the listener gets locked into the rhythm and time slows to an elegant crawl — like a soundtrack for night driving on an Autobahn upended.

 Weak Signal — LP1 (self-released)

LP1 by WEAK SIGNAL

Weak Signal are NYC’s Sasha Vine, Tran Huynh and Mike Bones. Bones has previously released a pair of strong albums of indie songwriting courtesy of The Social Registry. As a guitarist, he’s done time with Endless Boogie, Matt Sweeney’s Soldiers of Fortune and Prison. This album was a tip from Danny Arakaki of Garcia Peoples, and it’s a swell one, 30-minutes of slack fuzz pop bashed out with energy and swagger. The majority of the tracks strut by on solid riffs, backed by boy/girl vox that slide into chant-along choruses. Like new wave bled dry, leaving a beautiful bummer. The eight-minute “Miami/Miami Part 2” stretches out into a haze of increasingly rapturous guitar soloing, string screeches and a spoken word coda. Lotta promise here, for sure. Here’s hoping they stick around for an LP2.

 Raising Holy Sparks — Search For The Vanished Heaven (Eiderdown Records)

Search For The Vanished Heaven by Raising Holy Sparks

Seattle’s Eiderdown Records has been releasing some of the best contemporary psychedelia around, and the latest by Raising Holy Sparks is no exception. The project is the work of uber-prolific Irishman David Colohan, and is offered in double and triple cassette, as well as digital, versions. The “short” cut of the album is an hour and a half long, and the triple cassette and download versions stretch that to well over two hours. Per the credits, the album was recorded in somewhere around 40 different locations over four years. Colohan is credited with over 30 instruments and is joined by baker’s dozen of likeminded collaborators. What they deliver is, like most of Colohan’s music, long, slow and often eerily beautiful. “I Am In The Mountains While You Are In My Dreams” passes in its 23-minutes through Popol Vuh-style ambience, spoken word incantations that sound like Coil if they’d truly embraced the countryside and a whole lot of birdsong. It’s a good overview of the general proceedings — accented occasionally by louder blasts of synths, random percussion that sounds like drum machine presets and banjo-plucking krautrock. On paper, that sounds like a head-scratching combo, but it works. One gets the impression Colohan’s dedication and attention to detail is such that the grab bag of sounds weaves together into a surprisingly fascinating whole. Listen with attention and you’ll want to follow along as each stretch and segue unfolds. Oh, and as is typical with Eiderdown, bonus points for exceptional artwork, this time courtesy of Aubrey Nehring.