#i know jess was sparse over the next few years but he ends up in a good place in the end | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedollarcrate · 5 years

Text

50 Best Albums (That I Own on Vinyl) of the Decade

It’s hard to comprehend how much transpires over the course of a decade or wrap your head around how long (or short) of time that really is.

But what better way to try than to make a list!

Now, I know “Best of” lists like this one are inherently subjective – and probably say more about their maker’s preferences than actually reflecting the best music released in a particular time period. And, I’ll be the first to admit that the list below is incredibly limited, and that I need to widen my exposure to more artists and genres.

But hey, this is all in fun.

So feel free to debate, pick apart or share your own favorite albums from the past decade. But before you dive in, just a few quick points for context:

-I only ranked albums I actually own on vinyl released between 2010 and 2019, which limited my choices to about 170 records.

-I only ranked new music released this past decade, so no reissues or older material released for the first time (sorry Prince’s Piano & A Microphone and Originals).

-I first started buying vinyl around ’09-’10 and started off purchasing mostly new releases before my habits shifted and I started looking for older records. This shows in the list below – nearly a quarter of the albums below were released in 2010 and almost 70% from the first half of the decade.

And we’re off…

50. Centipede Hz, Animal Collective (2012)

Let’s be honest, it was impossible for Animal Collective to top a universally acclaimed and era-defining album – and it was unfair to expect them to. But maybe the continuous onslaught of bizarre and eclectic music found on Centipede Hz was just what we needed after all.

49. Singles, Future Islands (2014)

So much more than Sam Herring’s pelvis busting dance moves and “Seasons (Waiting On You),” every track on Singlesbursts with life and heart pumping energy. To quote Letterman: I’ll take all of that you got.

48. Paul’s Tomb: A Triumph, Frog Eyes (2010)

I don’t think I’ll ever understand Carey Mercer’s lyrics, but I’m certain I’ll never tire of getting lost in his hidden words and knotty melodies.

47. Leaving Atlanta, Gentleman Jesse (2012)

Thirty seven minutes of Pure Power Pop Perfection (note the capital “Ps”).

46. Burst Apart, The Antlers (2011)

If there’s another album with a song titled “Putting the Dog to Sleep” that is as haunting and beautiful as this one, I don’t want to know about it.

45. Carrion Crawler/The Dream, Thee Oh Sees (2011)

With John Dwyer churning out record after record in the ‘10s, it should come as no surprise that at least one landed on this list (and they’re all great). Garage rock. Surf rock. Post-punk rock. Psych rock. Noise rock. Rock rock. I don’t care what you call it, Thee Oh Sees put the pedal to the metal on Carrion Crawler/The Dream, taking you for a wild ride that never lets up.

44. 1989, Taylor Swift (2014)

Irresistibly catchy, everyone needs to satisfy their pop sweet tooth every now and then. 1989 is so sugary, it might just give you a cavity or two.

43. City Music, Kevin Morby (2017)

The city. The countryside. A beach. Aboard a train. At the pearly gates. It doesn’t matter where you listen to City Music because Kevin Morby’s jams will immediately transport you to your own laid back, happy place.

42. Remind Me Tomorrow, Sharon Van Etten (2019)

You’ll regret it if you keep waiting to listen this powerhouse – and powerful – synth-soaked record.

41. You Want It Darker, Leonard Cohen (2016)

It doesn’t get much darker, bleaker or sparse than this, but I wouldn’t want it any other way from the masterful Leonard Cohen.

40. American Dream, LCD Soundsystem (2017)

Retirement never sounded so good.

39. Capacity, Big Thief (2017)

Quietly captivating, mesmerizing and elegant, Big Thief knock you out without you even realizing it.

38. St. Vincent, St. Vincent (2014)

Annie Clark’s shapeshifting album won’t only shred your face off, it somehow makes you feel smarter, too.

37. Before Today, Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti (2010)

So, so weird and so, so good.

36. Expo 86, Wolf Parade (2010)

Like #50, Wolf Parade might always live in the shadow and expectations of a towering classic, yet somehow Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner still continually craft eccentric and bombastic rock albums. Expo 86 is no exception, and it is an underrated classic in its own right.

35. Golden Hour, Kacey Musgraves (2018)

Like a sunset or sunrise, Golden Hour radiates beauty and warmth with each of its glowing tracks.

34. Yuck, Yuck (2011)

Despite their name and its hideous album cover, there’s nothing gross about Yuck’s infectious indie rock.

33. Play It Strange, The Fresh & Onlys (2010)

I once saw The Fresh & Onlys play at a tiny club in D.C. It might’ve been the loudest show I’ve ever been to – my ears rang for days. This record is just as rollicking, hazy and good as that show was loud.

32. Natalie Prass, Natalie Prass (2015)

There’s a reason “Welcome to 1979” is stamped in tiny letters on this vinyl’s inner ring – it’s silky smooth, filled with impeccable soft ballads and finely tuned jams – and just a tinge of funk.

31. I Am Easy To Find, The National (2019)

Few bands matched the consistent output of quality albums in the ‘10s as The National. They had one heck of a run, and I Am Easy To Find was a fascinating way to end it – a 21st rock album that felt more complex and expansive than anything they’d done before.

30. Melodrama, Lorde (2018)

Everything a pop record should be and then some – bold, breathtaking and exuberant.

29. Just Enough Hip To Be Woman, Broncho (2014)

If you can’t tell from its playful title, this pop rock album wants nothing more than to have fun – and it succeeds on every level.

28. Avi Buffalo, Avi Buffalo (2010)

Sometimes all you want is a light, sunny and meandering album to wash over you and get lost in, and this one will do the trick every time.

27. Hippies, Harlem (2010)

Imagine a band practicing inside a garage inside a garage inside another garage and you’ve got Harlem. This is garage rock to the max – and at its rambunctious best.

26. Puberty 2, Mitski (2016)

It’s hard to describe Puberty 2. Sure, it might sound like simple dreamy indie rock, but it ebbs and flows in unexpected ways that leaves you guessing where it’s heading next.

25. mbv, My Bloody Valentine (2013)

Picking up right where they left off – even if it was more than a decade later – My Bloody Valentine reminded everyone why they are the masters of reverb soaked shoegaze.

24. A Moon Shaped Pool, Radiohead (2016)

Even after all these years and albums, Radiohead still found a way to reinvent themselves and push the boundaries of rock music – and our expectations of them. With gorgeous arrangements and slow-burning, tension filled tracks, AMSP proves that even Radiohead can still take risks – and proves rock bands can make quiet, intimate songs sound epic. Oh yeah, and it has “True Love Waits.”

23. Art Angels, Grimes (2015)

Grimes gave us the future of pop music before most could even envision it. This laid the groundwork for all the challenging and intricate – and danceable – pop music that would follow. And it still sounds ahead of its time.

22. Meet Me At The Muster Station, PS I Love You (2010)

The first sounds out of Paul Saulnier’s mouth on Meet Me At The Munster Station aren’t words at all but two short, ecstatic yelps. And this same boundless energy and passion bleeds through on every fuzzy, raucous second of every track. Did I mention there’s a song called “Butterflies & Boners”?

21. More Than Any Other Day, Ought (2014)

You really ought to listen to Ought if you aren’t already. Tim Darcy and co. sound a bit uneasy, paranoid and self-aware, but they make the most minute challenges sound so exhilarating and life-altering – even the struggle deciding between two percent and whole milk at the grocery store.

20. Lemonade, Beyoncé (2017)

All hail Queen Bey.

19. Twin-Hand Movement, Lower Dens (2010)

This album sounds like 2 am on a dark, rainy Saturday night – in the best way imaginable.

18. Tomboy, Panda Bear (2011)

You can always count on Panda Bear to make hypnotic, loopy electronic music sound so breezy and effortless.

17. Modern Vampires Of The City, Vampire Weekend (2013)

I don’t know why, but I want to dislike Vampire Weekend so much. But that’s impossible when their music is so damn good and every note sounds so neat and perfect.

16. Past Life Martyred Saints, EMA (2011)

Just do yourself and listen to this album please.

15. The Archandroid, Janelle Monáe (2010)

Blending too many genres to count, this is what I imagine music sounds like in space.

14. Carrie & Lowell, Sufjan Stevens (2015)

I’ll let you know how I feel about this one after I stop crying.

13. The Suburbs, Arcade Fire (2010)

It’s everything you either love or hate about Arcade Fire. Grand, sincere and sweeping rock that swings for the fences with every guitar chord, drumbeat and horn blast. I love it.

12. Silence Yourself, Savages (2013)

Savages grab you by the throat and never let go – this is one intense album.

11. Helplessness Blues, Fleet Foxes (2011)

This might be the epitome of ‘10s indie rock – and for good reason. Introspective, sensitive and searching for some greater meaning, Robin Pecknold holds nothing back and lays it all out on Helplessness Blues.

10. Kaputt, Destroyer (2011)

Dan Bejar is an enigma and seemingly reluctant rock star. I saw him perform an acoustic set where he spent a majority of the time playing with his back towards the audience (although in fairness, it was at a free outdoor show on a college campus with people mostly chatting obnoxiously over him), and yet it’s as if his creativity requires him to constantly release new albums and show them off. Kaputt is as equally strange and mysterious – and just as creative – as its maker.

9. Black Star, David Bowie (2016)

Take away the heartbreaking circumstances surrounding this album’s release and it would still be in the top tier of David Bowie’s extensive catalogue. Experimenting until the very end, Bowie morphed into something entirely new one last time. Part jazz, part rock and part I’m not sure what you would call it, the results were once again out of this world. He couldn’t give it all away, but we’re sure thankful for what he could.

8. Bon Iver, Bon Iver (2011)

Shedding the cabin in the woods vibe, Justin Vernon took a giant leap forward with Bon Iver and made ‘80s soft rock popular.

7. Celebration Rock, Japandroids (2012)

Perhaps the most aptly named album on this list, no other album exudes the joy of making music and rocking out with your buddy than this one. It’s hard to believe all that noise and energy comes from just two people.

6. Burn Your Fire For No Witness, Angel Olsen (2014)

Angel Olsen’s hypnotic and seductive vocals, lyrics and guitar suck you in immediately, mesmerizing you from the first gentle strums to the peaks and valleys of “Lights Out” and “Stars” all the way to the closer’s pulsing drumbeats and majestic piano.

5. Black Messiah, D'Angelo And The Vanguard (2015)

Oozing with cool, sexy and confident R&B funk, D’Angelo returned after 14 years with an instant soul masterpiece.

4. The Monitor, Titus Andronicus (2010)

It says a lot when a band can a.) make an hour plus punk rock record b.) loosely base it on the Civil War c.) quote Abraham Lincoln d.) close it out with a 14 minute track inspired by a famous naval battle and e.) still make you want to listen to it over and over and over again.

3. Lost In The Dream, The War On Drugs (2014)

The rare album that can feel vast and ambitious and yet deeply private and personal all at once. You really will get lost in these soaring songs.

2. Halcyon Digest, Deerhunter (2010)

At times perfectly melodic and structured and at others feeling on the brink of falling apart, Halcyon Digest is a paradox – sounding peaceful, bright and idyllic while also peering over the edge into something darker. This is a remarkable record from a remarkable band. If not for the abrupt end to the darkly beautiful closer “He Would Have Laughed,” Halcyon Digest sounds like it could go on forever.

1. Let England Shake, PJ Harvey (2011)

A stunning, thought-provoking, and moving – not to mention endlessly listenable – transcendent piece of art about life and the Great War. PJ Harvey doesn’t hold back on the brutality and absurdity of armed conflict, and the album’s devastating closing track – “The Colour of the Earth” – will linger in your mind long after the record stops spinning. As powerful today as it was eight years ago, this album will remain timely and important for years – and decades – to come.

23 notes · View notes

planetsam · 5 years

Note

Can you write something where Jesse Manes has died and Alex has complex emotions about it? And Michael is there to support him.

Jesse Manes dies in his sleep.

Peacefully.

He just doesn’t wake up, an old man tucked into his bed. Michael knows he would have hated that but it’s not nearly as much satisfaction as he wants from the man’s death. Alex says it calmly, robotically even. Then the silence on the phone stretches into a painful awkwardness until Michael breaks.

“Why’re you telling me?” He asks finally.

“I figured you had a right to know,” Alex replies, “you should be safe now.”

“Wait!” Michael cries before he can hang up, “how are you?”

“Fine,” Alex says.

“Fine,” Michael repeats.

“That’s what I said,” Alex tells him flatly, “I’m not calling to discuss this, just to let you know.”

“Courtesy Call,” Michael says, “how procedural.”

“Have a good one Guerin,” Alex snaps and ends the call.

Michael buries his fingers in his curls and wonders how he’s managed to fuck it up all over again.

——————————————————————————————-

Alex’s not the only genius in town. Though genius is a stretch considering all it takes is google. He doesn’t show up precisely he just lingers. It’s the first time he’s seen the Manes family assembled like this since Alex’s grandfather died. Alex and his brothers all look good, though some of them look more upset than others. Flint and Alex look the least upset about what’s going on. Their wounds are the most raw. Alex walks forward and puts dirt in the grave with the rest of the family. His oldest brother accepts the flag. Then Michael realizes he’s not alone.

“So, you here to make sure he’s dead too?” The woman asks, blowing smoke into the air and surveying him.

“Kind of,” he says. His conflicts with Jesse Manes are a standing joke in this town. No-one knows the full extent, “you too?”

“I’m sure we’re not the only ones,” she says, “not that any of them will acknowledge it.”

“I guess no-one wants to rock the boat,” he says.

“Or they’re a bunch of cowards,” she offers. Michael grins. He likes her sarcasm, “but I don’t throw stones in my own glass house.”

“I guess you’ve got a chance to stop being one,” he says.

“You live here?,” she asks.

Michael nods. She nods back and grins, dropping her cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her toe.

“If he comes back, make sure he goes back in the grave,” she says, “preferably with a lot of violence. Think you can manage?”

“Not a problem,” he says, trying not to think hammers.

“Good boy,” she says and pats herself for her keys.

“Mom?”

They both stop and look over at Alex. Michael wants to kick himself for not recognizing that biting wit. Of course it was familiar. Next to being gay, the greatest sin Alex has ever committed is resembling his mom. Michael has never seen the woman before but it’s impossible not to see the connection. Alex looks much younger than he did a moment ago, much less closed off. The urge to move in front of him is overwhelming but Michael stops himself. Surely this is good. This woman can comfort Alex. Like a mom should. He wants to yell when he sees Alex’s features harden. Even before he sees the way the woman is shifting into an almost mirrored stance.

“Hello Alex,” she says.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” He says, “we thought you weren’t coming.”

“I’m not here,” she tells him, “how do you two—“

“Don’t change the subject,” Alex cuts in, “you said you weren’t coming.”

“I changed my mind.”

Something about those four words almost sends Alex reeling like she’s slapped him. Alex hates him, that much Michael knows. But Alex’s hate is focused on the woman in front of him. His mom. The one who left him alone with a monster whose now being buried under heaps of dirt. The thing that stuns Michael is that the other brothers are saying things to the family and trading glances with each other, checking in on Alex, but no-one’s coming to help. Michael pushes aside the knot and puts on his best 2 am bad decision grin.

“I didn’t realize you were Alex’s mom,” he says and the tension shatters as they both look at him.

“That’d be me,” she says.

“Don’t start,” Alex warns.

“What? I can’t meet your mom?” Michael says, “I’m Michael. Got a name?”

“Mara,” she says.

Today’s a fucking rotten day.

——————————————————————————————-

He finds Alex later in the toolshed.

Apparently they both have a masochistic streak. After his mom drives off, Alex goes to the reception because that’s a thing you do at funerals. Michael doesn’t invite himself along. But he does come back, hours later and parks his car far away. He hoofs it to the house and slips into the toolshed. He’s amazed it’s still standing. He’s not surprised to see Alex inside of it. He’s got a beer in one hand, his jacket and tie are gone and his shirt sleeves are rolled up.

“It’s weird our moms have the same name,” he says, “I don’t think I knew your moms name.”

“What are you doing here?” Alex asks and the question is so honest, Michael finds himself reaching for the truth.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he says.

“I should be,” Alex says thoughtfully, leaning against the table, “he hated me.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, “but you didn’t hate him.”

Alex looks away.

It’s a dark secret. Alex’s put his desire for his father’s approval in a place Michael imagines will never see the light of day. It’s hard to love something that hates you. Michael’s got a list of that shit a mile long. More often than not he’s put Alex somewhere near the top of it. But his foster parents are there too, all of them. The Evans—its a long list. He gets the pain. But none of them have actually died yet. There’s that stupid, stupid spark of ignorant hope that maybe one day they’ll pull up and say they’re sorry. They didn’t mean it. And he’ll apologize for being so troublesome and angry. They’ll make up.

There’s no chance of reconciliation between Alex and his dad.

Maybe there never was, but now it’s definitely not going to happen. And even though objectively Michael hates the man with every fibre of his being, he’s sorry Alex has had another thing taken from him. Another hope crushed. He doesn’t think Jesse Manes was ever sorry for doing that. But standing in the toolshed Michael has more in common with the monster than he’s comfortable with. He pulls himself out of his train of thought and focuses back on Alex who straightens up.

“I need to get back there,” he says.

“You don’t,” Michael argues, “if you’re not ready.”

Wrong thing to say.

Alex shuts down immediately.

“I’ve wasted enough time out here,” he says. Which hurts a lot fucking more than Michael is expecting it to. He steps in front of the door and Alex looks at him sharply, “My f—“

“Your family?” Michael cuts in, “come on Alex, talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Alex says, Michael imagines the toolshed hasn’t heard this level of yelling in a solid fifteen years, “I called to let you know you were safe. Not for you to take this as some overture for us to make up.”

“That’s not fair—“ Michael starts.

“Life’s not fair,” Alex snaps.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Michael demands and Alex shuts up, “I didn’t know my mom and losing her messed me up,” he says, throwing the last two years under one messy overarching title, “I know you’re stronger but—“

“No,” Alex cuts in.

“No?” Michael can feel his throat tightening up with panic. It was stupid to come here. How far has he just set everything back? He forces himself not to dig into that loop and looks at Alex.

“There’s no but on that sentence. My father’s dead. My family needs me.”

Michael smacks his arm out and barricades the door. Alex can’t duck under it without risking his dignity. If he’s going down, Michael figures, he’s going down on his terms for once. Not the rules to the games that Alex comes up with. He never figures them out on time anyway. Alex is close and the light of the sunset makes him look chilling in this shed. Or maybe it’s just the memories of what’s gone down here. Or gone down between them.

“Look, I just want to talk. If you’ll let me—“ he’s not expecting Alex to laugh. It’s not a good laugh. Alex moves his arm aside.

“I don’t care what you want,” Alex tells him flatly and walks away, letting the last sight Michael has of him be the sight of him walking away.

——————————————————————————————-

He checks on Alex periodically because it’s the right thing to do.

Because Alex checked on him.

Long after he should have stopped Alex checked on him and so Michael bucks himself up and checks on Alex. What the hell’s he going to do at this point? Hurt their relationship? Alex won’t even be in the same room as him. Michael would love to blame it all on Jesse Manes but he’s played his part in it. He’s a big part of why Alex can’t look at him.

But hey an estate sale isn’t indoors.

Unsurprisingly it’s sparse pickings. Jesse Manes wasn’t a ‘stuff’ kind of guy. He’s surprised at how little any of them have taken. Then again, he’s really not if he thinks about it. Everything is well cared for and Michael, again, understands that way more than he wishes he did. If you can’t care for people without destroying them, if things are all you have, you take care of your shit a little better than most. He hears Alex see it’s him as he’s inspecting a bunch of tools and wondering if the hammer’s in there.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“Shopping,” Michael replies. Alex rolls his eyes.

“My dad’s shirts have their buttons on them,” he snaps.

“My shirts have their buttons. This is a fashion choice,” Michael shoots back.

“What do you want?” Alex questions, not in the mood. He can join the club.

“To see how you’re holding up.”

“I’m fine,” Alex says and Michael can’t tell if the lie is a better response than being told he doesn’t have the right to ask, “you can go.”

“No,” Michael says, “I’m shopping.”

He finds what he’s not looking for ten minutes later. Family photos aren’t something Michael’s ever had. The few pictures he has of him and his siblings as kids are ones he treasures. He walks over to where Alex is trying not to look like he’s crawling out of his skin and plots down the ten bucks for the priceless memories.

“Seriously?” Alex demands.

“Deadly,” Michael replies.

“Why?” Alex questions.

“What do you mean why? I want embarrassing photos of you, obviously,” Michael says. It’s only half a lie and he doesn’t feel that bad about it. Alex doesn’t stop him from buying the albums and Michael tries not to read into it. Instead he tucks them under his arm, “see you around,” he says.

Alex doesn’t say goodbye.

That night Michael drinks himself stupid and thumbs through the pictures of Alex, wondering how a kid manages to look so smart and annoyed and cheeky when he barely knows how to walk. But leave it to Alex to pull that off. He puts the albums with the rest of the photos he has on the now empty shelves. He doesn’t keep his space ship stuff here anymore and his nights aren’t spent drawing plans to return to the stars.

He just wishes that the place he wants to return to didn’t feel so unfathomably far away, again.

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #michael x alex #malex fanfic #prompts

96 notes · View notes

kerfufflewatch · 7 years

Text

just 1500 hastily-written words of “what if Hanzo did the incredibly cheesy thing of learning to speak bits of Spanish for McCree”

(if any of it’s wrong, I sincerely apologize and please correct me! I know some Spanish but it’s been awhile, so it’s really a combination of my sparse knowledge and that of Google :| )

McCree steps off the shuttle into the Watchpoint hangar, weighed down by the bone-deep exhaustion of a ten-day mission and the intense desire to collapse face-down in his bed and remain unmoving for as long as circumstances will allow. On the ride home, he had entertained the notion of a shower and food before the collapsing, but at this point, not even those could sway him from his course.

However, when he catches sight of Hanzo waiting by the entrance–waiting for him, he realizes with no small amount of joy, because Genji had already passed through– he decides bed can wait just a couple more minutes.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” McCree sighs, leaning immediately into Hanzo before Hanzo can even lift his arms, letting Hanzo take half the weight of his body. Hanzo chuckles, the sound of it rich and warm to McCree’s ears, and envelopes him in a welcoming embrace. “Hey, sweetness.”

“Hello, Jesse,” Hanzo murmurs. “¿Como estas, mi querido?”

“Cansado, pero bien,” McCree answers absently, face pressed into the crook of Hanzo’s neck. Then he pauses. Lifts his head. Looks down at a smiling Hanzo, whose eyes glimmer with mischief.

“Where in the hell’d you learn that?” he asks.

“Internet.”

“Really.”

Now the mischief is replaced by a hint of apprehension. “Is that alright? I admit, I only know a little, and I do not fully understand the rules of the language yet . . .”

McCree had been paying so little attention in his exhaustion that he has to think on it now, take a few seconds to remember what Hanzo actually said. Once he recalls the words, however, and the way they sounded in Hanzo’s rough, low voice next to his ear, he grins.

“Reckon you ought to tell me everything you’ve learned,” he says. Hanzo smiles, too, and as he leans up to give him a proper welcome-home kiss, the words echo in McCree’s memory.

Mi querido. My dear.

–

Hanzo doesn’t tell him everything he’s learned. Instead, he makes McCree wait.

He hasn’t endeavored to learn the whole language. At least, not yet. “Just a few things,” he explains, embarrassed, when McCree hassles him about it (in English and Spanish, just in case he can get Hanzo to respond in the latter). “I … thought you might like it, if I learned a little.”

McCree does. Very much.

Hanzo drops the occasional word or phrase when McCree isn’t expecting it, as though he is deliberately attempting to surprise him with a new bit of Spanish here and there. McCree shouldn’t be so surprised every time, but he is, pleasantly so.

Hanzo’s accent isn’t flawless–something about the transition from the strong, syllabic tones of Japanese to the smoother lilt of Spanish seems to trip him up at first. There are a few words that aren’t pronounced quite right, although never so badly as to mix them up, and he’s pretty clearly not a native speaker. Still, it seems like Spanish was developed over some thousands of years just for the day when Hanzo would start speaking it, because pronunciation or no, every word that passes his lips sounds like the sweetest music to McCree’s ears.

He can’t pretend, either, that he isn’t awful flattered by the effort Hanzo’s putting in. Hanzo doesn’t devote his attention to projects he does not deem important, after all.

–

“No, listen, listen,” McCree insists, laughing. He gestures with his drink, overexaggerating in his tipsiness. “You gotta roll the Rs! It’s not that hard!”

“It absolutely is,” Hanzo responds, half-angry and half-laughing. He points an accusing finger at McCree, sloshing the drink that’s in the same hand. “You only do not know because you grew up speaking it!”

“No, it ain’t. If a bunch of thirteen-year-old white kids in middle school could do it, so can you. Listen. You just gotta–tip of your tongue behind your top teeth and sorta blow past it.” He demonstrates, trilling an elongated R sound with the practiced ease of 38 years of learning. Hanzo frowns comically at him.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” he says before immediately attempting it himself. McCree swallows down his drunken giggles as he watches Hanzo try a good four or five times, visibly overthinking the position of his tongue in his mouth and making awkward R noises that could be considered flipped once or twice, perhaps, but not properly rolled.

Then he does it, just once, and he looks as surprised as McCree is. “Hey, there you go,” McCree says.

Hanzo makes the noise again, a perfectly rolled R. Pleased with himself, he smiles and says, “¿Te gusta, mi amor?”, unnecessarily but flawlessly rolling the ending R.

McCree’s mouth runs dry. Hanzo must see how that affects him because he smiles, slow and seductive. “Mi amor,” he murmurs again, but he hits the R too hard and flubs the pronunciation, McCree snorts, unable to help himself, and Hanzo frowns deeply.

“Fuck,” he says, sending McCree into fresh peals of laughter.

–

“Buena suerte,” he says before McCree boards the shuttle for an assignment in Russia, followed by a dry kiss to his jaw. McCree fancies Lady Luck does favor him a little more that evening when his infiltration goes off without a hitch.

“Ten cuidado,” he says before they separate on a shared assignment, and he smiles a little when McCree repeats the sentiment.

“Te extraño,” he murmurs, averting his gaze, when a mission keeps him away a bit too long and their video calls are their only chances to see each other for two weeks. That one makes McCree’s chest ache viciously.

“What do you think?” McCree asks, turning to Hanzo for approval. He hasn’t worn this suit in a good long time, and he’s not too sure about the fit anymore, but he’s not keen on getting a new one and he can’t very well walk into tonight’s swanky event in jeans and spurs.

Hanzo eyes him up and down slowly, reverently. McCree lets himself feel a little proud. Must not fit too bad after all.

“It is very good,” Hanzo says. He steps into McCree’s space, taking the ends of his tie in both hands. He leans up, brushing his lips against McCree’s jaw. “Estoy muy guapo.”

McCree can’t help the sudden laugh that bursts forth. Hanzo looks up at him, startled and affronted. “What?” he demands. “I am certain that was the right word.”

McCree coughs, clears his throat, swallows down the chuckles that still threaten to be known. “I know what you were goin’ for, sugar,” he says, “but you conjugated that a bit wrong. Just called yourself handsome.”

Hanzo frowns thoughtfully, and McCree can all but see him running through the words in his head, trying to pinpoint the mistake.

“Well,” Hanzo says after a moment, “that one is also true.“

McCree doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter this time, and Hanzo laughs too, shaking against McCree’s chest with the tie still gripped in both hands. “Well,” McCree says, “thank ya anyway, sweetheart. The effort’s appreciated.”

–

That suit only last about six hours. Between the two bullet holes in the back of the coat (a small price to pay, considering the bullets almost ended up in the back of him), and now Hanzo’s hands desperately ripping the thing off of him in the heat of the you-were-almost-hurt-and-I-need-you-now frenzy that followed the near-miss, it never stood a chance. McCree doesn’t mind much.

“What do you want?” McCree asks breathlessly as Hanzo pushes him back onto the bed, already worming a hand past the band of Hanzo’s pants.

“Anything,” Hanzo says through his teeth. His hands come up to frame McCree’s face and draw him into a hard, sweet kiss, and when they break, he lingers, lips brushing McCree’s.

“Tu,” he murmurs. “Solo te necesito.”

Hearing Hanzo use Spanish to say he needs him is certainly more of a turn-on that McCree had expected and immediately lights a spark in his gut, but it’s the utter sincerity in Hanzo’s voice, the grip on his face that’s just this side of too tight, the worry in Hanzo’s brow that hasn’t unknit since McCree first got back from the mission that cause something in McCree’s chest to twist painfully.

“Alright,” McCree says, throat tight. “You got me. You always got me.”

–

In a way, McCree sees this one coming. It’s three syllables and damn near everyone in the Western world has heard it in some form, so he imagines Hanzo probably picked up on it ages before he actually started trying to learn anything. It should be cheesy and terrible.

Still, though, he is not prepared–not for the way Hanzo’s lips form the words against the back of his shoulder as they lie together in bed, not for the hitch in Hanzo’s voice as he starts to speak, not for the way Hanzo’s hands tighten minutely around his middle, not for the low, nervous, wonderful rasp of Hanzo’s voice murmuring, “Te amo.”

It takes a long moment for McCree to trust himself to speak. He wraps a hand around Hanzo’s, brings it to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of the knuckles. “Me too,” he whispers. “Me too, darlin’.”

#Overwatch #McHanzo #Kerfuffle Fic #it's okay Hanzo I can't roll my Rs either #that entire scene is courtesy of my dear friend Aeron who has TRIED to teach me to roll my Rs #and who insisted there be 4k of McCree teaching Hanzo #it's not 4k but it's a few hundred

661 notes · View notes

proudtoehaver · 6 years

Text

Jedha’s Legacy – Chapter 4: Dinner Time

A/N: In honor of May 4th have the next chapter of Jedha’s Legacy.

Can also be read on AO3

Chapter one can be found on AO3 here and on tumblr here.

Present

Finn slowly gets to is feet, waves of dizziness washing over him. Hesitantly he reaches out a hand and with two fingers touch the spot on the hologram where Beshen-42 is placed.

It's real. It's real and right there.

One reason why he's been so accommodating of Brance's obsessiveness with getting every little detail he could from Finn's memory is that it has given him the opportunity to study maps of the galaxy, of Republic and First Order territories in detail and at length.

He had known the chance of finding the system was tiny. Finding one single system among tens, hundreds, of thousands, had astronomical odds. Even more so as its name indicated a small colony or facility as it sounded like it had not changed its name from the one first given to it by whatever scout had located it.

Still, he had not been able to stop hoping.

But as days wore on into weeks and then more, that hope had slowly and surely been worn away into nearly nothing. But here, now, when he had all but given up he has stumbled upon it.

But why hadn't he seen this earlier?

He's been over this part of the map with Brance before, yet he hadn't noticed the system. And he couldn't imagine missing that name if it had been there.

Unless, unless it had been under another name.

He turns to the shelf that holds the map files, quickly flipping through them to find one that covers the section of the galaxy he need.

His hands are shaking as he inserts the map into the console and he hesitates before calling it up.

The Imperial map is old, more than thirty years in fact. A lot can happen in that time.

Does the system still exist? Is it still inhabited? His file did say 'seized', that would indicate fighting. It would not be beyond First Order MO to take what they wanted and destroy everything – and everyone – else.

There's only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath, he hits the button that brings up the map.

It's there. Just as insignificant and out of the way as before, but there. But on the Republic map it is named Datung.

Relief washes over him, making him feel faint again and he drops down onto the chair and just stares at the map.

A loud beep of the chrono's alarm starts him from his daze. Damn, it's almost dinner time.

Ah well, he can just skip-

No, he can't. Poe's definitely going to make good on his promise and come down to get him if he doesn't show up for the meal.

Finn grimaces.

The thought of having to sit placidly through a meal with the knowledge he's just found is aggravating. It'd be impossible. And he doesn't want to share his discovery with anyone, not even with Poe. This is his and his alone.

He sighs and rubs his face.

Maybe he could hide?

He chuckled to himself. A bit too extreme perhaps and Poe would just track him down and then he'd really start asking questions. If he could eat without having to talk to anyone that would be ideal.

Hey, that's it!

He'll go to the mess, grab some food and let everyone know he's eating something, then come back here. It's still early and not many people would be there yet and Poe's been so busy lately training new arrivals that he almost certainly won't. Poe might not like being dodged like that, but Finn knows that as long as he's eating his friend will let it go at that.

Plan conceived Finn turns off the console, grabs the chips containing the maps and heads for the mess.

oOoOo

Just like Finn had assumed the mess is all but empty, only the staff – which consist mostly of droids – setting out the food and a few off-duty personnel eating early, are here. He'll need to find someone who'd talk to Poe. But first, food.

Grabbing a plate, he haphazardly heaps food on it without really looking at what he puts on it. Snagging a glass of meiloorun juice as well he scans the mess hall for some of his and Poe's common friends.

He's in luck. He spots Jess and Karé just stepping in the door, deep in discussion with each other and sets his course for them. Perfect.

"Hi Finn," Jess says, lighting up in a smile when she sees him. "How's it going? Had Brance been tolerable?"

"Good. Fine. Been working mostly alone today in fact. Speaking of that. I was just grabbing some food before getting back to work."

"Oh come on," Karé says. "Don't let that old curmudgeon Brance work you into the ground. Kick back and sit with us."

Snap comes up behind the two women.

"Brance is not that old, he's my age," he says.

Karé looks back over her shoulder and grins.

"As I said, ancient."

Snap swats at her playfully. Karé dodges easily.

"I apologize for the children," Jess says drily to Finn. "Don't let them discourage you. I'm sure they'll behave as soon as there's food in front of them."

"First I'm a geriatric and now I'm a kid?" Snap grouches. "Can you two make up your minds?"

"Listen," Finn interjects before the playful argumentation washes his resistance away. "I really want to get this done tonight. Then maybe I can get Brance off my back tomorrow. So, some other time?"

"Alright. But I'm gonna hold you to that," Jess says as Finn heads out the door.

"Oh yeah," Finn says and turns back. "Could you tell Poe I'm eating? He seemed worried about my eating habits earlier today."

"Sure. Will do," Jess says. "Have fun with the maps."

Finn gives all three of them a smile in parting, hurrying off before he gets roped into anything.

oOoOo

He puts the plate and glass on a small empty space on a shelf near him and boots up the console again. A borderline panic flashes back momentarily as he loads the map, an irrational fear that the system will have vanished or that he imagined the whole thing.

But Datung is there just as before and Finn exhales slowly, forcing himself back to calm.

Absentmindedly nibbling on the food, he considers what his next step should be.

He needs information. Of course, the room he's in holds an abundance of navigational data. That's not really what he wants, but he supposes it's a place to start.

A few minutes of searching gets him the bare basics about the system.

System name: Datung.

Number of planets: 5, one inhabited.

Navigational phenomenon: None.

Name of inhabited planet: Shanchen.

Climate: Temperate, dry.

Population: <1 million.

Technology level: Mid-high.

Urbanization: Negligible.

Starport: Limited service.

He looks at the sparse information.

A planet with very low population, but relative high technology level would suggest a newer settlement and no indigenous inhabitants, but there was no hint at what kind. No indication of what would have made that many people go to the middle of nowhere and settle down. A mining colony? Farming?

Or was it a military installation, an old Imperial one, that had turned to a civilian purpose after the end of the galactic civil war? But what kind of installation would warrant that many people.

The files before him offers no reply.

While continuing to eat he digs through every other file or directory that might yield something, but to no avail.

oOoOo

When Poe drags himself into the mess he feels exhausted, drained from spending the day teaching Resistance newcomers the basic of fighting as a squadron and not as a loosely affiliated group of individuals.

He loves teaching. It had always been his plan to become flight instructor for the Republic Navy once he got too old to fly active combat missions, but this is different. Few of the new arrivals have formal military of any kind or even combat experience, most only have rudimentary skills in flying and what they've seen in holovid. That and too much enthusiasm is going to get them all killed their first time out unless they break their bad habits.

If this had been the Republic Navy, if there had been peace, he would have had time to slowly get them out of their exuberant mood, or if he failed that flunk them out of the course. But this is neither and they have no time nor can they afford to reject any who can fly.

He tries to keep his calm when instructing, no one ever learned anything by being yelled at, but he can't push away that increasing thrill of fear down his spine and it puts a sharp edge in his voice at times.

They all seem so young. They should have their whole lives ahead of them, but if they continue as they are they won't live through their first battle.

He feels like he's leading children to their deaths and that makes him feel ancient.

He fills his plate and scans the room, quickly spotting Karé's telltale multicolored braids and bee lines for Black Squadron. He needs company to distract him from his dark thoughts.

He drops down next to Jess with a deep sigh.

"Hey," she says. "You look like something the Loth cat dragged in."

"Long day."

"Aren't they all these days?" Karé asks rhetorically.

"How are the new people shaping up?" Snap asks.

"Can we talk about something else please?" Poe says. "I just want to forget about work right now."

There's a murmur of agreement from the others.

"Though speaking of work," Jess says. "You're not the only one working hard. Finn only leaped in here to grab some food earlier before going back to those maps of his."

"Oh," Poe replies, suppressing the twinge of disappointment that he won't be seeing Finn tonight.

Having Finn near always makes him feel better. No matter how bleak things look there's something heartwarming about the man and that gentle but persistent determination of his. Even if said persistence sometimes made him push himself in ways that weren't good.

At least he was eating, that's the important part.

Snap shakes his head.

"The way that guy it working, Brance is going to latch onto him permanently and have him removed from the troops to intelligence."

"Maybe that's what Finn wants," Jess says.

"What do you mean?" Poe asks.

"I just mean, maybe he wants to get away from the frontlines."

"Oh come on, he's not a coward," Snap laughs. "I think we've got ample evidence of that."

"What are you talking about?" Jess looks perplexed at him. "How did you get that from- What I meant was that it can't be easy for him shooting at people he once knew, that he grew up with. That's nothing to do with courage."

She takes a bite of egg.

"To us the First Order is just evil. We don't think about it out there, do we? That the guys we're shooting at are people too. And some of them are bound to be people he knows, that can't be easy for him. I know I'd have a hard time shooting you guys even if you were fighting for a fascist regime."

"Thanks, Jess. I'm overwhelmed by your tenderness," Snap says drily.

Jess gives him an elbow in the ribs and continues eating.

"I can see what you mean," Karé says, her tone somber. "It might be easier for him to look himself in the eye if he doesn't have to get up each morning knowing he might end up killing someone he once called friend."

Poe has been listening to the others in silence. Finn is often so quiet it is hard to know what's going on inside his head, but now Poe wonders if this is why Finn has been pulling away lately. He had written it off as both of them simply having their hands full with too many things that needed doing and not enough people to do them, but now he can't help wonder if the fact that he's training combat pilots and flying missions has something to do with it.

That thought hurts more than Poe wants to admit, though he can't blame Finn if he feels that way.

He hasn't asked Finn about his past, he doesn't want to pry into painful memories, but Finn must have had people among the First Order he cared about, even loved. Poe can't even begin to imagine how it must feel to shoot at a Stormtrooper and be left wondering if that was a person he once called friend.

Perhaps he should broach the subject with Finn, give him a chance to unload if he wants to talk. Of course, if he's not comfortable with Poe then that won't be productive.

Jess snapping her fingers in front of his face starts him out of his thoughts.

"Man, you were far gone. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just..." His voice trails off as he tries to come up with an answer she'll believe.

"Worried about Finn. Yeah, that's obvious. We don't want to lose him either, but he's a grown man with his own path. And personally, I'd rather he got through this war still able to live with himself."

"I know. Ditto. I just- Never mind. Was that all you wanted to say?"

"No. We're headed for the lounge to kick back for a bit and was wondering if you wanted to come along? In fact, Karé and Snap have gone ahead. You were completely oblivious to us asking. For real Poe, are you okay?"

"I- I'm not sure how to deal with the new recruits. They're going to get themselves killed and fast if they don't learn, but nothing I say seems to get through to them. They're going to get their squadron mates killed too."

"Want me to come along tomorrow? Yell at them? I do a good screeching harpy imitation remember?"

Poe starts to laugh.

The memory of Jess giving a new recruit who had behaved in very irresponsible fashion during a test flight a sharp dressing down is as vivid as it is enjoyable. When the young punk had said he didn't take instruction from screeching harpies Jess had very calmly challenged him to a one on one duel. If he could outfly and outgun her she'd stop yelling at him, but if he lost he'd follow orders to the letter and no more flying off on his own to show off.

The nerfherder had accepted.

Poe had thoroughly enjoyed seeing him get 'vaped' five times in rapid succession. Neither the nerfherd nor anyone else in that group had acted up again.

"That might be overkill. But if they keep acting this way I may call you in later."

"You can always use me as a threat. So, are you coming or not?"

Poe considers begging off, just head to bed and sleep for ten hours straight, but he misses hanging with his friends. And maybe it can take his mind off... things.

"Sure, count me in."

#rebelfinn #finn #finnappreciation #finnpoe #the last jedi #jedha's legacy #mara's stuff

15 notes · View notes

sinceileftyoublog · 6 years

Text

Live Picks: 5/11-5/20

Jess Williamson; Photo by Kari Rosenfeld

BY JORDAN MAINZER

I’ll be in London from tonight until the 19th, so I wanted to get you covered until the 20th!

5/11: Shabazz Palaces, Empty Bottle

When we saw Shabazz Palaces at Riot Fest last year, we noticed the headiness and understated nature of the set in comparison with other sets at the festival. Seeing them in a small venue, in contrast, is ideal.

Experimental hip hop band Leaf Set opens. Jill Hopkins of Vocalo Radio DJs before the show.

5/11: Kem, Anthony Hamilton, & Eric Benet, Wintrust Arena

The R&B Super Jam tonight at Wintrust Arena features a diverse lineup. There’s quiet storm artist Kem, who mixes spirituality and love on albums like Intimacy. There’s the best known, neo soul singer Eric Benet. And then there’s Anthony Hamilton, whose Back To Love remains one of the best R&B albums of the decade and who often finds himself collaborating with hip hop artists, unlike the other two. Whether they play together or alone or a mix of both, it’ll be sure to be a great show.

5/11: Loma & Jess Williamson, Schubas

Loma, the band consisting of Shearwater’s Jonathan Meiburg and Emily Cross and Dan Duszynski from Cross Record, has only their self-titled debut, which we enjoyed very much. In a headlining set, they should be able to play most or all of it. The extent to which they replicate live an album that’s loaded with effects and nature sounds is to be seen.

Jess Williamson follows up 2016′s great, stark Heart Song with something much more expansive. Cosmic Wink, out today, is her Mexican Summer debut. It’s inspired by her move from Texas to California, new love, and the death of her dog. “When I don’t know what home is, I can turn into your arms,” Williamson sings on album closer “Love On The Piano”. It’s a sweet sentiment, but the rest of the album, despite the romance, still has those Texas high and lonesome qualities--it was recorded there, after all. Opener “I See The White” recalls some of the more melancholy tracks on Angel Olsen’s My Woman, while the Rhodes-laden “Wild Rain” is desolate and emotive.

Williamson will also be doing an in-store performance and signing at Shuga Records at 5 P.M.

5/11: Bing & Ruth, Constellation

The last time we saw ambient classical collective Bing & Ruth, they put us in a trance playing their great No Home of the Mind. Sine then, they’ve released an EP, Dorsal, as well as a single, the gorgeous “Quebec (Climber)”, released as part of the upcoming Stadiums & Shrines 10th anniversary compilation Dreams.

TüTH, the industrial project of Disappears bassist Damon Carruesco, opens. Brent Heyl DJs before the show.

5/11: Meat Wave, Catapult Records & Toys

Here’s what we wrote about Meat Wave when they opened for Hot Snakes at Thalia Hall back in March:

“If you’ve read us for the past few years, you know we love the songs and shows ever-ascending local heroes Meat Wave, having covered three different sets of theirs. Their last full-length release was 2017′s The Incessant, but earlier this year, they released two new songs, one-minute stomper 'Shame' and creepy slow-burner 'Dogs At Night'. Subtle, but still just as pummeling; their set should contain a lot of the latter, and not much of the former. Be thankful for that.”

Local two-piece punk band Drilling For Blasting and UK grunge band Strange Planes open.

5/11 & 5/12: Lizzo, Aragon

I’ve been a fan of Minneapolis hip hop artist Lizzo since her 2013 debut Lizzobangers, which she followed up in 2015 with Big GRRRL Small World. The former established her as a dexterous, hyperactive MC with a feminist tilt. She showed off her singing chops on the latter. But her 2016 EP Coconut Oil and tracks she’s released recently see her going in many different directions. The title track to the former is soulful and infused with gospel, while new tracks like “Truth Hurts” and “Fitness” are some true Lizzo bangers.

Fleetwood Mac worshipers Haim headline.

5/12: Helen Money, Hungry Brain

Cellist Alison Chesley is classically trained, but that’s right where formality ended. She started Verbow with Jason Narducy and then, after Verbow broke up, was a session musician in Chicago. But it wasn’t until her first solo album Helen Money and her subsequent adoption of the moniker that she truly started pushing the cello to its limited. Fast forward to 2016, and Chesley released her magnum opus Become Zero. Featuring Neurosis’ Jason Roeder and Rachel’s Rachel Grimes, Become Zero is a true mash of genres, bending the lines between experimental noise and metal while Chesley used digital processing for the first time. It was to great effect, as she made an album as full of sorrow and empathy as harsh soundscapes.

She plays with Peter Maunu and Carol Genetti, who play an opening set of their own.

5/12: Moritz von Oswald, Smartbar

Moritz von Oswald was one of the most influential 90′s dub techno producers, having done great work with both Basic Channel and Maurizio. Over the past 10 years or so, he’s branched out under his own name, whether with Detroit pioneers Carl Craig and Juan Atkins, by himself, or with the Moritz von Oswald Trio, his project with Sun Electric and Vladislav Delay. (I’m particularly fond of their album Fetch.) The Hamburg master should give a fantastic DJ set.

Deep techno DJ Olin and TEXTURE Detroit resident and founder Soren and Jacob Park open.

5/12: Speedy Ortiz, Subterranean

In 2015, Speedy Ortiz followed up their great debut Major Arcana with the even better Foil Deer. Supporting that album, they improved tenfold as a live band. When they went to record what would become their third album Twerp Verse, the 2016 U.S. presidential election happened, and they scrapped the strictly personal stuff and went political. Sadie Dupuis and company have always been political from a social and feminist perspective, but not so outspoken as on Twerp Verse. Musically, the album is consistent with Dupuis’ solo project Sad13, embracing the synth and Dupuis’ ever-improving voice over the wiry guitars for which the band first became known.

Local hero Nnamdi Ogbonnaya and Ohio band Didi open.

5/12: Vijay Iyer Sextet, Constellation

Vijay Iyer is captivating by himself and in duo form. So performing his sextet material (last year’s great Far From Over) with a steady band (besides a set of rotating drummers) should be a captivating live show. The band includes horn players Graham Haynes, Steve Lehman and Mark Shim alongside bassist Stephan Crump and drummer Marcus Gilmore.

There are two shows: one at 8:30 P.M. and one at 10:00 P.M.

5/13: Bill MacKay & Ryley Walker, Cafe Brauer

They’ve already turned upside-down one wholesome holiday. Whose to say they won’t do it at Mother’s Day Brunch at the Lincoln Park Zoo? Over/under on Walker banter about yoga pants stands at 2 jokes.

Walker’s release shows for his new record Deafman Glance, out next Friday, are on 5/18 and 5/19. We previously wrote that Deafman Glance is “an arty record, subdued, embracing of free jazz and minimal synth music as much as folk.”

5/13: Obituary, Pallbearer, & Skeletonwitch, Metro

Obituary’s self-titled album, released last year, wasn’t just a return to form. It’s one of their best records, one that stands to refine the death metal tropes the band has been exploring from the get-go, from the swirling riffs of “Kneel Before Me” to the stomping “Lesson In Vengeance”. The songs should sit well beside the band’s catalog.

Last year, Pallbearer followed up their breakout album Foundations of Burden with the divisive Heartless. We liked but didn’t love Heartless. Either way, whatever you think of the band, they’re becoming better and better live. They just released a new single, “Drop Out”, and mini-documentary to go along with it, as part of Adult Swim Singles Program. It’s your typical track from the Arkansas band: lead singer Brett Campbell goes full-on Ozzy Osbourne, while the divide between the sky high electric guitars and guttural electric bass is larger than ever.

Despite turning over band members quite a bit, Ohio metal band Skeletonwitch is remarkably consistent, from 2011′s great Forever Abomination to 2013′s Serpents Unleashed. They release their sixth full-length Devouring Radiant Light in July and have released a single, the epic and black “Fen Of Shadows”. It showcases new vocalist Adam Clemans (who first appeared on their 2016 EP The Apothic Gloom) while reminding you why you’ve always loved the band: the dynamism between guitarists Nate Garnette and Scott Hedrick.

German thrash metal band Dust Bolt opens.

5/14: Damien Jurado & The Light, Lincoln Hall

Singer-songwriter Damien Jurado has been popping up here and there since the 90′s to release an occasionally jaw-dropping, brilliant record, like 2003′s Where Shall You Take Me? or the trilogy of Maraqopa, Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son, and Visions of Us on the Land. A week ago, he released his 13th studio album, the gentle The Horizon Just Laughed. While it might not have the psychedelic leanings of his best work (save for “Silver Timothy” sibling “Florence-Jean”), it’s sparse and gorgeous nonetheless.

Afro-folk singer-songwriter Naomi Wachira opens.

5/15: Justin Townes Earle & Lilly Hiatt, SPACE

Justin Townes Earle played City Winery back in February. Here’s what we wrote about him then:

“The Justin Townes Earle of 2018 may not be as exciting as the same singer-songwriter who released the mighty one-two punch of Midnight at the Movies and Harlem River Blues almost 10 years ago, but he’s got so many good songs across his discography that it’s almost better to see him live than take a deep dive into his discography. He quietly released his 7th album, Kids in the Street, in 2017, and it’s probably his best since Harlem River Blues, but you know the crowd’s gonna cheer the loudest for 'They Killed John Henry' and 'One More Night in Brooklyn'.”

Nashville singer-songwriter Lilly Hiatt recruited a new band for her third album Trinity Lane, and it’s her best record yet. With John Condit on guitar, Robert Hudson on bass, and Allen Jones on drums and production by Michael Trent of Shovels & Rope, Hiatt has found the perfect sound for sad stories like “The Night David Bowie Died” and honky tonk jams like “See Ya Later” alike.

5/16: Asking Alexandria, The Forge

Back in January, Asking Alexandria co-headlined the Riviera with Black Veil Brides. They co-headline The Forge with Black Veil Brides this time. Here’s what we wrote about them then:

“British metalcore band Asking Alexandria perhaps peaked with 2016’s The Black. While their new self-titled album, released last month, is an interesting departure in their sound, opting for more straightforward, melodic hard rock, it makes you miss the band’s louder moments.”

Scottsdale metalcore band Blessthefall open.

5/16: Rival Consoles, Empty Bottle

Persona, the latest album by Rival Consoles, is purportedly inspired by the Ingmar Bergman film of the same name. What’s more obvious is its obsession with perception, space, light, and darkness. His use of analogue-heavy synths, acoustic and electric instruments, and effect pedals creates a sonic world that travels faster than the speed of light between beauty and ugly. Songs titled like “Unfolding” do what their title suggests, slowly developing into a beat. The title track skitters, “Memory Arc” attacks like a monster, and “Phantom Grip” loops ominously. And then there’s Nils Frahm collaboration “Be Kind”, a truly light moment on a record, and one that exemplifies the spirit of shared label Erased Tapes.

Local experimental acid house project Africans With Mainframes opens.

5/16: Jean-Michel Blais, Constellation

Quebec composer and pianist Jean-Michel Blais has been slowly rising over the past few years. His debut album II was followed by an especially inspired collaboration with CFCF on last year’s Cascades EP, four tracks of original material and one John Cage rework. Today, he releases his second solo effort Dans ma main, which sees him combine his usual piano-led intimacy with synthesizer textures.

5/16: Power Trip & Sheer Mag, Reggie’s

Dallas thrash metal band Power Trip just released a collection of their earliest non-LP recorded material, showing the raw areas from where they came. 2013′s Manifest Decimation was their debut, but it was last year’s Nightmare Logic that brought them beyond the metal spheres to spots like a co-headlining tour with Sheer Mag.

As a live band, Sheer Mag stood out even before they released their best songs. Now that they’ve released the tracks, they’re on top of the world. Last year’s proper debut Need To Feel Your Love was an effective juxtaposition of 70′s radio rock with radical politics, accessible and loud enough to land on our top albums of the year list.

Orange County hardcore band FURY and DC punks Red Death open. The same bill plays Empty Bottle on 5/19.

5/17: Prong, Bottom Lounge

Groove metal legends Prong are still going strong. Albums like the excellent Carved Into Stone and last year’s Zero Days show that the band is still capable of telling a musical story from start to finish while making room for meaty riffs and complex arrangements, holding up alongside their 80′s and 90′s work.

New York alt metal band Helmet co-headlines.

5/17: Josh Rouse, SPACE

Josh Rouse’s best record is 1972, which combined 70′s songwriting and production techniques with personal, political songwriter. Love in the Modern Age is the 80′s equivalent. Is it as successful? Of course not. But the similarity between the two albums makes me think Rouse will play lots of 1972 favorites.

Synth pop singer-songwriter Deanna Devore opens.

5/17: Marc Ribot, Art Institute of Chicago

Marc Ribot is one of the most creative guitarists around. I’ve seen him do a one-man score to Charlie Chaplin’s The Kid, play with his Ceramic Dog band, and jam with Los Lobos’ David Hidalgo. This time around, he’s doing an in-gallery solo performance at the Art Institute of Chicago in response to the paintings of Ivan Albright, presented in association with the exhibition Flesh: Ivan Albright at the Art Institute of Chicago.

5/17: Wye Oak, Thalia Hall

The Louder I Call, the Faster It Runs completes Wye Oak’s transition from raw, guitar-and-drums folk band to expansive synth rockers. Front woman Jenn Wasner’s pop project Dungeonesse and solo project Flock of Dimes as well as Wye Oak’s previous two albums, Shriek and Tween, are clear predecessors to the new record, the band’s best since Civilian. Natural and unbridled, it shows the least restrained version of Wasner and percussionist Andy Stack. The title track’s interweaving arpeggio synths and squawking guitars are the perfect soundtrack to a song poking fun at those trying to find order within chaos. The vocal-driven, cinematic “My Signal” and layered, washy “You Of All People” round out the album’s highlights.

Philadelphia indie rockers Palm open.

5/17: Charly Bliss, Empty Bottle

Charly Bliss frontwoman Eva Hendricks told us regarding the band’s live show, “Our live show is probably the most important aspect of making music for us, so we always want our shows to be as satisfying and fun as possible!” Their debut album Guppy (one of our favorites of 2017) was already fun and continues to satisfy well into 2018. There’s a reason this show is sold out.

Punk band Skating Polly opens.

5/18: Objekt, Smartbar

We haven’t heard much from avant techno genius Objekt since his great 2014 debut Flatland--apart from a few singles here and there. Maybe he has new material. What better place to debut it than Smartbar? Mixes of his old material works, too.

Pre-party for the Movement festival in Detroit. Stripped-down techno DJ Helena Hauff headlines. Local busy and prolific DJ Justin Aulis Long opens.

5/18: Raekwon the Chef, Promontory

Raekwon is responsible for some of the best rap albums ever, whether as a member of the Wu-Tang Clan or solo. Next Friday, he’ll be playing solo hits and Wu Tang Clan songs with the Mo Fitz Band backing him up. Though he may start with tracks from his most recent album The Wild, he should eventually delve into 36 Chambers and Cuban Linx classics, perhaps even performing for other Wu-Tang members, dead or alive.

Raekwon also is somehow playing another set this night at Bourbon on Division. DJ Ryan Ross opens that one.

5/18: Fever Ray, Metro

A Fever Ray show is not to be taken lightly, since Karen Dreijer doesn’t play very often, either as a part of The Knife or with her solo project. Plunge, last year’s follow-up to 2009′s self-titled album, was a stunning achievement. It was one of our favorite albums of last year due to its outspoken politics, frank sexuality, and chaotic beats. She revealed her live band members in a video for standout “IDK About You”.

There are two shows: one at 6:00 P.M. and one at 10:00 P.M.

5/19: TesseracT, Metro

British band TesseracT prove that djent prog metal can actually be tasteful in addition to good. Their masterpiece, 2013′s Altered State, was cohesive and actually beautiful at times, particularly thanks to vocalist Ashe O’Hara. Over the past two albums, including last month’s Sonder, the band has reunited with old vocalist Daniel Tompkins. While his vocals are more cliche whiny than O’Hara’s, the band’s instrumentation remains vital.

Australian metal guitarist Plini and rockers Astronoid open.

5/19: Pig Destroyer, 3 Floyds

Alexandria grindcore masters Pig Destroyer last left us in 2012 with their opus Book Burner. It was fast, violent, and truly dangerous-sounding. Next Saturday, they’re one of many bands playing 3 Floyds’ Dark Lord Day, which we’ve covered twice. To a drunk crowd wanting to hear favorites, expect them to...well...bounce all over the place.

Death metal band Dying Fetus headlines. The abrasive Revocation, blackened thrashers All Hell, jazz-metal outfit Brain Tentacles, and blackened doom two-piece Canyon of the Skull also play.

5/19: Elizabeth Cook, City Winery

Two years ago, we caught singer-songwriter Elizabeth Cook admirably perform songs from her latest release Exodus of Venus, an album inspired by death and tragedy. Over the past year or so, however, she’s been performing lots of new songs that should be out on a new record this fall. She should pepper them into her back catalog next Saturday.

Singer-songwriter Caleb Caudle opens.

2 notes · View notes

wttp · 7 years

Note

Good luck with your new blog!❤ Can I request imagine where the new Fem Blackwatch agent gets bullied a lot bc she is emotionless and doesn't react, everyone thinks she is weird, and then mccree notice her one night sneaking out doing something super sweet like feeding homeless puppies or helping some orphans?? I need more fluff in my life Also if you make the reader so short I will appreciate it! Sorry if this is too complicated and Thank you ❤

(POV: You)

You were told beforehand that the base was a lot colder than your previous assignment at this time of year and that you should bring some warmer equipment. Now that you are sitting in the small cold room you have been provided for the duration of your stay, you are starting to regret that you didn´t heed the advice your superiors gave you. As you have now frozen for several hours, you decide that it would be better to go and tie up a few loose ends, than to simply sit in your tiny quarters the entire night. You grab your regular clothes and your coat and begin making your way out of the HQ.

You are not especially worried about anybody questioning your absence, as it is already too late for anyone to be awake. On the other hand, most people never really pay much attention to you, mostly due to your emotionless exterior. The fact that you often remain indifferent, when faced with shocking or terrifying situations, has garnered you a fair bit of ridicule from your “comrades”, who you often find talking behind your back or overlooking you as if they didn´t see you at all. Even with the scorn on your mind, you remained silent to their idiocy. Due to your short stature, you learned early in your life that there are other ways to win fights than with the fist, although you are pretty good with that approach as well.

Unbeknownst to you, however, somebody else has noticed what was going on around you. He is also a member of Blackwatch, and quite possibly the only one (except yourself of course) who is still awake. His name is Jesse McCree, and speaking of him:

(POV: Jesse)

Jesse is sitting in the boardroom, wide awake. It isn´t often that he, or anyone for that matter, get to relax, so everybody makes sure to enjoy it. Jesse had, long ago, learned that there can be far between a good night of sleep, so he always tries to make the most of it. This night was different though. This night is one of those nights, where he just can´t stop the flood of memories for his past. Everything, from his childhood to Deadlock to now just flows together and churns around in his head, making him unable to sleep. So here he is. Up and about at 3 am with no end in sight.

That is until he hears a sudden ruckus, somewhere nearby though. He is surprised by the sudden noise, and also confused as to why anybody but him would be up at this hour of the night. He stands up and goes to investigate. As he turns around the corridor, he spots you on your way out of HQ, with a backpack on your shoulders. As he is a relatively high-ranking member of Blackwatch, he knows that there are no mission details or assignments left to do, that could explain your sudden departure, which leads him to follow after you.

He mainly follows to understand why you are leaving at night, but also to know more about you. Most people with the same rank as you are simple goons with next to no recognizable features, while you, on the other hand, excel in both combat and strength, despite you being noticeably shorter than the other members (he has caught himself smiling at the thought of you, small as you are, beating some sense into people twice your size, more than he´d like to admit). You also remain remarkably calm, almost emotionless, during stressful situations, which has in fact also earned you the silent approval of Gabriel Reyes. The other low-level members didn´t see your positive sides, however, and routinely mocked your stoic appearance.

As the cowboy has now tailed you for several minutes, you suddenly come to a stop in an alleyway, sparsely lit with a small lamp on the wall. As he discretely peers into the alley, he notices you sitting down on one knee, shuffling around with the contents of a large cardboard box. As you move to pull something out of the box, he silently readies his Peacekeeper, in case it is a weapon (If you wanted to shoot a few of the people that have mocked you, he would honestly wouldn´t blame you, although he hopes that he isn´t one of the people on your list).

His thoughts are quickly halted, however, as he suddenly hears the thing you picked up begin to meow. He stretches his neck a little more and now sees you holding a very small and quite frankly malnourished orange kitten in your hand. As you put it down on the ground, he sees you do the same with two other kittens (One black, the other brown). He is a little confused as to what you are doing but decides to not intervene. When all the kittens are sitting safely on the ground, cuddling up to you, you open your backpack and pick up water bottles and small packets of food and place them on the ground.

You pour a little of the water into your cupped hand, and the kittens happily drink it all up. After they are done drinking, you pour a little bit of food onto the ground, and gently pet the kittens on their backs as they eat, before standing back up and rummaging through your backpack one more time. This time you pull out a blanket and fit it into one of the dry cardboard boxes so that the kittens can keep warm in the cold weather. As the kittens appear to be satisfied you gently pick them up, one-by-one, and place them into their new home. You pour out some more food for them and begin putting the now empty water bottles and food packs back in your bag.

As you are packing up your stuff, McCree is shocked by your complete change in demeanour, as you go from your normal stoic self to being smiling and affectionate as you help the poor creatures. As you are ready to leave, Jesse decides to talk with you and begins to approach you.

(POV: You)

As you finish packing the now empty materials, you can´t help but feel like you are being watched. As you crane your head and look behind you, your heart immediately begins pounding as you see Jesse McCree walking towards you. As he is almost right in front of you, you lower your eyes to the ground, scared that he might think that you are weird, like the others. As you mentally prepare for the normal barrage of mockery and weird looks, you’re shocked to instead her Jesse chuckle as he says, “So there is a heart beating in that chest of yours after all darlin´”

You quickly raise your head, both surprised and confused by the friendly cowboy. Jesse notices you shock and quickly reassures you. “Don´t worry about your little thing back there. I know enough about people to know that you´d like me to keep silent about your soft side” he promises while smiling at you. You return his smile (Maybe the overconfident cowboy isn´t as bad as you first thought).

As you are focused mostly on your own thoughts and happiness, the gunslinger interjects once more “Say darlin´ it´s getting pretty cold outside and I don´t know a lot about pets, but I know that staying out in the cold isn´t got for anybody”. He takes a look at his watch and looks up at you “Well, it seems it´s almost morning again. I´m sure there´s a shelter somewhere in a town like this, so how about we find these little fellas a nice home eh?”

You stand completely still for a second, completely unable to understand the sudden friendliness and helpfulness you are being shown. As you look at Jesse, your eyes almost tear up from happiness, but you steel yourself, having more important things to worry about. After regaining your composure, you answer his question “Yeah, I think that’s a really good idea. Wouldn’t want them to freeze to death out here”. Jesse simply nods his head and walks over to the box, lifting it up before walking back over to you. “Well,” he says, “Shall we?”. You nod your head “Yes, I think we shall”.

As the two of you walk out of the alley and into the centre of the town to look for an animal shelter, you begin to feel warm inside, knowing that you´ve found some who understands who you are and likes who you are. You´ve found a friend. You turn your head towards your companion and quietly say “Jesse?”. “Yeah Shortstack?” He replies, with such a teasing smile that you can´t help but chuckle, as you answer, “Thank you”. He turns his head back forward, saying “No problem darlin´”. The rest of the trip you two walk in comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the kittens who purr and snore the whole time.

#jesse mccree #Overwatch imagines

21 notes · View notes

lunaraen · 7 years

Text

Movies

Jesse has a mixed relationship when it comes to theater.

Most of the time, she's as interested in musicals and plays as Lukas is, but there are some topics she's less able to stomach.

And despite pushing it off for months and months and years, really, at this point, one of said topics is being played in Beacontown to much acclaim. Which is great! Her personal tastes shouldn't affect how others enjoy things. The problem is that the Order did happen to show up to tonight's showing, at the new amphitheater, to said play because it happens to focus on them.

That's what makes it hard to stomach, but she knows each and every person involved means well. Accuracy isn't even so much of a problem, because the Order always tries to be available to people and aren't near as 'mysterious' as their predecessors.

It's not as if Jesse hasn't learned how to grin and bear through things for the public before.

Not everything about fighting the Witherstorm is as spot on as it could be, which is fine, and the characterizations are off, which is fine, because it's just a play and this is just the first act.

Jesse makes it right about until what might best be called the glorification of Reuben's death.

Is it horribly butchered? No.

It's just too tacky and too polished in a way that feels deeply wrong, and while Jesse knows they don't mean any harm, her tolerance is just about shot after that.

That's why she ends up sitting outside on a bench, the cold of the stone seeping through her clothes and beginning to numb her legs. She’s waiting for the others as she lets her fingers drum against the arm rest and tries to focus on the dull sound it makes instead of how abandoned the outdoors are at such a late hour, even with the popularity of the play.

Is it that much warmer in an amphitheater? Maybe not, but it does have a play going on that the few trees and bushes nearby certainly aren't trying to match, even if both areas are equally well lit.

"Not watching the play?" Jesse lifts her head, smiling as Ivor sits down next to her.

"It's not really my thing. I like it better when they do the more classic stories. Or original stories, or anything about the holidays, or anything but us." Jesse chuckles weakly, smile more of a grimace as she rubs the back of her neck, looking over her shoulder and back at the crowded amphitheater. "I didn't realize they were that popular. Why aren't you watching it?"

"Jesse, I've seen this version adapted for several other worlds multiple times by now. As interested as I am in the localization differences, given who they expected as their audience, it's hardly a priority. Besides, Harper will let me know if anything interesting happens." Ivor grins, handing Jesse a fuzzy woolen cap she's quick to put on. The action doesn't seem to do much beyond make his smile wider, even as he raises an eyebrow. "Still, with how far Lukas has spread word of your adventures, I'm surprised you haven't heard of one of these sooner."

"I've heard of them, I guess. I just don't usually go to those kinds of plays here in Beacontown; it feels too much like we're blowing things up to be more than they were and encouraging all of that, you know? Or like we're not just people, at least."

It seems pretty dumb to Jesse. It's an honor, to have a play, never mind so many plays, focusing on her and her friends.

"I can understand that." Ivor relaxes into both his coat and the bench, crossing his arms over his middle as his smile turns wiry. "I think my first winter away from the Order after our 'disagreement' was spent in a city that turned out to be one of the first to create and hold plays based off of our 'amazing' adventures."

It's not a tone she's heard from him in a while, not quite bitter so much as oddly absent and reminiscent, bittersweet in a way she can barely blame him for.

So she chuckles back, giving an exaggerated wince as she grins.

"Ouch. I pity the city."

Ivor doesn't look back at her, smile easing again as he watches the few sparse snowflakes swirl through the air as they descend.

"...it wasn't what I found to be the most pleasant holiday surprise."

"Did you go?"

It's Jesse's turn to raise an eyebrow as Ivor nods.

"I did. Twice, at least."

"Wow, really?"

It doesn't really seem like Ivor, or what she knows of how he was back when the sting of being betrayed was sharp and he was desperate for revenge.

"It's amazing how people tend to be pushed aside for the sake of legends. I didn't leave on good terms, but it was almost insulting, how bastardized some of my best friends had been by total strangers for the sake of a 'more pleasing narrative'. Not that my critique would've meant anything to the people hosting the plays; I doubt it would've meant anything to any of the Order either."

What's there to say to that? It makes sense.

"Huh."

"Fame is fame." Ivor tugs at one of his gloves, tilting his head to the side as he keeps his tone steady. "It allows the public to know of you without really knowing you, though Lukas's books do seem to help promote some degree of accuracy."

"Yeah." The wind picks up as Jesse looks over her shoulder again. "Do you think the others are having some fun?"

"Olivia's nearly bitten through her lip, Axel's either very focused or sleeping with his eyes open, Petra's torn between combusting before the play can end and dying of laughter once we return home, and if Lukas doesn't offer them some 'friendly editing', I'll be surprised. It's admittedly not one of the better plays, but Harper has a soft spot for it."

Jesse's not quite able to keep the smile off her face, and so she doesn't try.

"Think we should save them?"

She's not surprised either when Ivor snorts and rests his hands behind his head.

"Let them sit. They can take care of themselves, and it's not as if they're being forced to stay. They full well know the way out."

#My Stuff #fanfiction #storymodechristmas #mcsm #minecraft story mode

23 notes · View notes

senatorrorgana · 7 years

Text

To Me, She’s Royalty

summary: Princess Rey Organa-Solo of Alderaan is celebrating her 19th birthday, but with the celebration comes the duty of finding a suitor to marry to forge an alliance to stand up against the impending might of the First Order. When she meets Poe Dameron, Lord of Yavin, things begin to change, and she starts to realize that perhaps marrying for duty is not as terrible as it seems, especially with something that feels like love starting to develop..

a/n: Hey guys! So this is a one-shot for @damereyevents October AU month! I've wanted to write a royalty au for a while now and this seemed like the perfect chance to give it a try. If you guys like it, I might extend this into an actual fic because I kinda fell in love with it while writing it and have a whole story in mind for it. We'll see how it goes, but I really hope you guys like this, I know I'd love to continue it! Until then, enjoy this as a nice one-shot! <3

pairing: damerey (poe dameron x rey)

ao3: (x)

All of it was a joke, a royal ball under the guise of her nineteenth birthday celebration when Rey knew it was more of a ball held to start trying to marry her off to fitting suitors. After her brother forfeit the crown, she was next in line and had she not been the last child left in the line of Her Royal Highness, Leia Organa-Solo, she would have forfeited the crown as well. Rey was always more like her father, ready to run across the world and see all there was to offer, not being tied down to a throne and listening to diplomatic conversations. Now, it would be her life's duty to protect and listen to the people of Alderaan, just as her mother before her, and Rey never wanted to run away more in her life.

“What about this one?” Her handmaiden, Jessika Pava asked, pulling yet another dress from Rey’s wardrobe and holding it out for her to see.

“That one is terrible to breathe in,” Rey grumbled, dismissing yet another dress.

Jessika let out a heavy sigh and used all her might to fight the large dress back into its place. “You've turned down every single dress, from the new ones your parents gifted you to ones you used to love. Surely there isn't a problem with every dress you own now, is there?”

“It's not the dresses, not really,” Rey admitted, walking over to her bed and looking over the gifts from her parents.

They were beautiful, truly, but knowing what they were meant for made her hate them from the start. These dresses were meant to attract some powerful man she’d never met a day before in her life, someone who could ally their forces with that of Alderaan’s and band together in the war against the First Order; a permanent ally bound by marriage rather than a fleeting alliance that could end in disaster. Royals from across the land were gathering in the palace already for the ball in a few days time, houses big and small were vying for the attention of Princess Breha Organa-Solo.

“Your mother already told you a hundred times that you don’t have to marry any of these men,” Jessika said, exasperation clear in her voice.

Had it been any other handmaiden, they would have been prim and proper, gushing over the Lords and Princes who gathered all just for her, but not Jessika. Jess had been her loyal handmaiden trained from birth, though the two became fast friends despite the “rules” that said they shouldn’t have otherwise, that the girls ignored.

“I know she’s said that, but...external forces say otherwise,” Rey said.

The Resistance was a small and humble force, nothing compared to what the infamous leader of the First Order - Snoke - had under his command. Not many wanted to stand up to the might of the First Order, most were afraid, but if Rey married the right ally, it could turn the tide of the fight against them.

“Since when have you ever listened to external forces?” Jessika asked.

“Since I was named next in line,” Rey said with a sigh, “what do you think of this one?”

Rey pointed out the first dress she’d tried on earlier that evening, a beige gown trimmed in extravagant embroidery all along the bottom and bodice of the dress, trailing down the sleeves as well.

“Modest, yet still incredibly stunning,” Jessika said, “even though you don’t want to marry anyone, you could win over any man’s heart in it easily.”

“I guess that one is the winner then,” Rey said, her fingers trailing over the delicate embroidery.

“Look at it this way, you have a choice, most girls in your position don’t and are just told who they’ll marry,” Jessika said.

“I know, I just hope I don’t regret who I choose.”

Over the past two days, since he’d arrived at the Alderaan palace, Poe found himself wondering what he was doing in such an extravagant place like this. Yavin itself was large, but sparse and spread all over its rolling countrysides, a modest country to say the least, but surely nothing of note to the vast and powerful rulers of Alderaan, yet he was invited to the crown princess's ball nonetheless. He was a Lord of Yavin, yes, but he didn’t think it was enough to capture any larger country’s attention. Poe didn’t belong in the prim and proper halls of opulence that surrounded him now, but out in the fields and roaming the world where he pleased, though he knew duty would always call him home, especially after his mother’s death. Despite the vast difference between them, Yavin and Alderaan had been allies for many years, going back to the days of the war against the Empire when many had to flee to Yavin and continue the fight from there when all hope seemed lost. If nothing else, attending the princess’s ball was a formality, and as soon as it was over, he was free to return to where his heart truly belonged.

“Have you seen the size of the gardens out there yet? They’ve got to have every flower from every part of the world in there,” His friend, Finn said excitedly as he caught up to Poe in the halls of the palace.

Since his father had been too ill to make the trip, Poe traveled with his friend Finn, Lord of a fellow smaller country called Jakku who had proven to be wonderful allies in this new war as well. Despite their new surroundings, Poe was relieved to have at least one familiar face by his side until they could leave.

“Knowing Alderaan, I’m sure they do have every flower from across the globe in there,” Poe said.

“Oh come on Dameron, there’s got to be something here that catches your eye. Something that your beloved Yavin doesn’t have,” Finn said.

Stopping short as they walked down the hall, Poe and Finn watched as a group of the Princess’s handmaidens walked past them, their dark blue gowns trailing behind them. They all cast a glance over towards the pair and smiled, some blushed and giggled before moving on, their hushed voices rising once they passed them.

“Like that, surely Yavin doesn’t have that many beautiful women all in one place,” Finn said, peaking around the corner and watching them continue down their path.

“As beautiful as the fair princess we’re all gathered here to see?” Poe asked with a smirk.

“I’d be lucky if the princess even glanced at me, she might spend more than five minutes of her attention on you with your charming good looks,” Finn replied, “but the handmaidens of the princess, surely they’re impressed with a Lord from somewhere.”

“Have fun with that,” Poe clapped Finn on the back.

“I intend to,” Finn said, smirking, “and if you had a brain in that skull of yours, you would try to have some fun while you’re here as well.”

“We’ll see about that,” Poe said, though all he wished for was to be on the road back home.

Rey had never been nervous when it came to a ball before, she’d been raised with these extravagant parties, she knew how to hold herself and all the proper etiquette she needed to go through, it was second nature. But something about the weight of tonight made her hands shake ever so slightly, not to mention the corset under her dress left little room for taking deep breaths.

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” Her father’s calm voice came up behind her, her mother at his side.

Her parents made it look so easy, despite Rey knowing that her father had never spent a day of his life in court until he fell in love with her mother. Her mother always kept her head level even when she was nervous, walking with purpose and a grace Rey had yet to master herself. Leia always told her the secret to it all was Han at her side, he kept her grounded even when she wanted to fly off the handle; Han always said his secret was Leia, her rationality keeping him from knocking some pompous Lord’s off of their precious little chairs. They equaled each other out, despite their fights from time to time - Rey only hoped she could find someone who kept her balanced like her parents someday, even though that day was coming much sooner than she hoped.

“It’s just like any other ball you’ve ever been to,” Leia assured her.

“Only this time all the Lords are here to try and marry me,” Rey mumbled.

“They’ll have to go through me first,” Han said, earning a smirk from Rey at his overprotectiveness.

“You don’t have to marry any of them, you know that, right?” Leia asked, a twinge of something that looked like guilt in her eyes.

“I know, but for the good of the Resistance and Alderaan, I should,” Rey said, “it’s my duty as future Queen to ensure the safety and security of my people. I can’t do that if we don’t have at least one solid ally in our corner, and the only way to assure that is through marriage.”

“Are you sure you're my daughter?” Han asked, “My daughter would have marched down these steps and told every Lord in this place to go home and then gone and run off to go train with her Uncle Luke.”

“She’s growing up,” Leia said, “and I’ve never been more proud.”

Rey offered up a small smile at that, all she ever wanted was to make her parents proud. She knew they would have been proud of her regardless of what she decided to do, but she knew this was the right thing. She could learn to love a stranger if it meant her people stayed safe.

“Presenting Her Royal Highness, Queen Leia Organa-Solo, and King consort, Han Solo,” a voice called from below down in the ballroom.

Leia gave Rey and quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek before standing tall in front of the opening doors with Han at her side. Rey watched as her parents walked into the room, a hushed silence as all watched their King and Queen who had gone through this routine so many times before. Rey couldn’t help the nagging thought in the back of her mind that asked what it would be like to go through this with someone at her side like her parents. She’d always hated having all of those eyes on solely her, maybe it would be better after all with another by her side. Rey took a deep breath as she got into place, reaching to the back of her hair and ensuring all the intricate braids Jessika had helped weave into her hair were still held in place, the golden hairpiece still intact as well.

“Presenting Her Grace, Crown Princess Breha Organa-Solo,” the voice called for her next as the doors were slowly pushed open.

With one more deep breath, Rey squared up her shoulders and stood tall, walking out to the balcony in front of the staircase once the doors opened. She scanned the room until she caught sight of her mother and father, building up her courage again as she went through her own familiar routine, going to the left staircase and making her way down until reaching the middle. Soon I’ll have someone to meet here, she thought to herself as she paused for a moment before continuing her descent down into the ballroom. The crowd still silent until she reached the floor, the musicians picked up their tune again as her father came to her side.

“You know how to make an entrance that takes everyone's breath away, just like your mother,” He leaned over and whispered to her, causing Rey to smile.

As she made her way across the room, someone caught her eye. A man a bit older than her, black haired and brown eyed, the kind of charming good looks she didn’t quite expect to find tonight. She kept her gaze on him for a bit longer than what was proper of her, forcing herself to look away despite the slight blush now burning her cheeks. Don’t be such a fool for the first man you see, Rey chastised herself mentally, though she couldn’t stop thinking about him for even a moment.

The original plan Poe had in mind was to get through the party fairly unnoticed, to pay his respects to the hosts of course, but to come and go as quickly as he could; the faster he left Alderaan meant the faster he’d get back home - but then he saw her. The beautiful princess herself, the one people sang songs about her beauty and grace throughout the kingdoms, and stories also told of her fierce power in combat despite her family wanting to keep her behind palace walls. It wasn’t until he laid eyes on her himself that he started to believe those stories and songs just a bit more. Now, he found himself drawn to her, the need to at least introduce himself to her and let her know his name.

“I see something caught your eye,” Finn’s voice came up from beside him, tearing Poe out of his trance probably for the better.

“No, well, I mean - “

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tongue-tied, Poe Dameron,” Finn interrupted with a smirk on his face, “certainly not because of a woman’s doing either.”

“I’ve had a few too many drinks I suppose,” Poe said, trying to bite back the lie.

“You’ve had one, and you’ve been watching the Princess since she came out here,” Finn said, “go talk to her, better than just staring at her from across a room.”

“Said the man who didn’t even want to approach her either,” Poe said.

“I said she wouldn’t notice someone like me, and I was right because I’ve seen her notice you a fair amount of times already,” Finn said.

Poe looked towards Breha again, catching her just barely look away in time.

“You two haven’t even said hello to one another yet and you’re already insufferable,” Finn said.

“Fine, I'll go talk to her,” Poe said.

“Good, go on then,” Finn egged him on with a smirk.

Working up his courage, Poe held his head high and crossed the room slowly losing it with each step he took towards them. When he was just within a few steps of the royal family, he froze and contemplated turning around entirely; had Han Solo not noticed him, he would have done just that.

“Poe Dameron, I’d recognize that face anywhere,” Han said, capturing the attention of both the Queen herself beside him and the Princess Breha, “I’d heard you came out this way but I wasn’t sure you made it, not to mention all the chaos going on around the palace leading up to all of this.”

“I came in a few nights ago, I saw all of this going on and figured it’d be best to stay low until tonight,” Poe said.

“How’s your father doing? I know he hasn’t been great since Shara died, I’m so sorry about that, she was the best fighter on horseback I’d ever seen,” Han said.

“Thank you, and he’s doing alright, he wasn’t feeling well which was why he sent me here alone, I didn’t want him risking his health either,” Poe explained.

“I’ll have to see him sometime soon, we were planning a visit out there anyway, nothing is better than Yavin in the summer,” Han said.

“Are you going to ever let the poor man introduce himself to Rey?” Leia asked, cutting into the conversation with a small smile on her face.

“Your Majesty, you look lovely this evening,” Poe said, bowing before her.

“Thank you, Poe,” Leia gave him a kind smile, something that made him miss his own mother’s warmth whenever he saw her, “don’t mind Han, it’s been awhile since he’s had another man around to talk to with...well with everything that’s happened.”

Poe bit his tongue, not knowing if it was appropriate to say anything to that or not, it had been a few years since Ben Solo died, but he knew they seldom liked to talk about their dead son, the pain being far too great.

“Rey, honey, come here,” Leia called out.

Rey, Poe thought, a fitting nickname for her.

Seeing her up close didn’t help any, Rey was still just as breathtaking up close as she had been from afar, even more so now that he noticed the patches of freckles on her cheeks and the hint of gold in her hazel eyes.

“I know you two have met before, but it was so many years ago when you were both so young,” Leia said, “especially since Rey preferred to be running around in the mud back then.”

“Mother!” Rey exclaimed, a blush rising up on her cheeks.

“We’ll leave you two alone, besides Your Royal Highness, I believe you still owe me a dance from last time,” Han interjected, already leading Leia away from the pair of them, though Poe wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse about the situation.

The two stood in silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say to the other, until Poe finally ended it.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” he said with a bow.

“And you as well,” she replied with a curtsey, “I know my mother says we've met, but I hope you can forgive me when I say I don't remember.”

“There's nothing to worry about there, I probably wasn't around, I was always going somewhere, or sneaking out somewhere when I was younger,” Poe assured her.

“To be fair, I was probably doing that same,” Rey grinned.

He tried to cover up how that smile of hers made his heart skip a beat. She was fearless and adventurous unlike many in a similar position to hers, just like all of the other Skywalker women before her.

“Would you like to dance?” Poe asked, holding his hand out to her, he'd spent all this time working up the nerve to talk to her that he's nearly forgotten it was, in fact, a ball.

“I'd love to,” Rey said, taking his hand and letting him lead her out to the dance floor.

Rey had a plan in mind when the night began, she was going to try and meet every Prince and Lord who came to the ball and listen to whatever proposals they had to help the Resistance. Then she met Poe Dameron.

They talked and danced nearly the entire night, and if she hadn't been so captivated by him, she would have felt rude for doing so. The party had mostly died down now, guests heading back to their rooms in the palace, most of them staggering from the drinks they'd consumed, and instead, Rey found herself heading out to the gardens with Poe at her side. The stars were shining bright, all of the nocturnal flowers blooming under the moonlight, and a slight chill in the air made Rey wish that she had gone for a bit of a thicker dress despite the beauty of this one. Without a word, Poe shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her, continuing their walk out into the garden until they reached the center of it all, taking a seat beside one another, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“I’ll have you know, I expected tonight to be terrible,” Rey said, earning a confused look from Poe.

“Why do you say that?” Poe asked, “It was your party, usually people are excited about things like that.”

“It was different,” Rey said, “I’m supposed to be thinking about my future, the future of my people. My parents won’t be around to fight against people like the Empire and the First Order for the rest of my life, I need to be ready for the day when I have to face these battles myself.”

“Spoken like a true Queen already, I don’t think you have anything to worry about there,” Poe said with a slight smile.

“Thank you,” Rey said, “but I suppose I was treating tonight as another one of my duties. I actually had fun thanks to you.”

Poe smiled at that, and over the short time Rey had come to know him tonight, she came to love that smile.

“Despite all of this, I still have to think about allies and who will stand with us when the First Order comes for us all,” Rey said.

“You have my word, and the word of my father’s, that Yavin will fight and stand with Alderaan,” Poe assured her.

“Thank you,” Rey said, “I greatly appreciate that. But some are not as loyal as you and Yavin, which is why I have to marry someone, the longer I wait, the more proposals will be thrown at me. As it is, it’s already hard enough to tell who truly wants to be allies and who only wants to try and steal Alderaan away.”

Poe went silent at that, and Rey felt the urge to rush and try to explain things within that silence.

“I’m sorry for unloading all of that onto you, it’s just been on my mind as of late and -”

“Marry me then,” Poe said, interrupting her thought before she could finish it.

“...What?” Rey asked.

“Marry me, all of Yavin is already yours, but all of our allies would come to your aide as well. We’ve helped many kingdoms in their time of need ever since the days of the Empire, they would all answer to your call if we were married,” Poe said, “I want none of the power of Alderaan, I don’t even want the power of Yavin that’s my birthright, but if it’d help you and the fight against the First Order, I’d gladly give it all to you.”

During their whole night together, Rey never thought about the true power Yavin held, mostly because Poe gave her an enjoyable evening rather than a negotiation which she had been prepared for until he swept her off her feet. But he was speaking the truth, Yavin was just as old as Alderaan, though they truly started to rise during the days of the Empire when Alderaan first fell. Many flocked to Yavin’s open arms, and many still owed a great debt to the country for saving the lives of their people.

“I-I barely know you,” Rey replied meekly, she’d prepared herself for something like this, yes, but not coming from someone who made her heart skip a beat after only a few hours and made her feel like there was something truthfully there between them.

“If I may speak the truth, Your Grace, you would know none of the others any better,” Poe said, “regardless of your choice though, Yavin will still stand with you.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Rey said.

Locking her eyes with his and searching them for any reason she should doubt him, and flicker of untrustworthiness - but there was nothing. All she saw in his eyes was warmth and an unyielding loyalty, something that she’d heard her father tell stories about, how his parents fought valiantly during the war, even if it brought them to the brink of death, they never wavered where others would.

“I’d be honored to have someone like you by my side, for this war and all the wars that may come,” Rey said.

There was something like electricity between them, their eyes on one another and smiles fading away into something else as eyes traveled to lips that were slowly growing closer together. The kiss that finally followed was something gentle and sweet, though when Poe reached his hand up to cup her face, it deepened ever so slightly, treading lightly into the waters of desire that she didn’t know was there until that very moment. When they parted her lips felt swollen and cheeks flushed bright red, thankful that the darkness of the night obscured him from seeing her so vulnerable.

Her family had notoriously married for love, whether it was for the worse or better of things, they always married for love. She would be the first who married for duty, but there was something there with Poe, something that she felt could grow into love over time spent together. It was something she was looking forward to, which was a drastic change compared to how she’d been predicting how this night would go, but with Poe at her side, she felt a little more confident in not only her own future but the future of her people.

#damereyevents #damereyaumonth #damerey #jedipilot #poerey #star wars #poe x rey #my writing

64 notes · View notes

missoneminute · 7 years

Text

Recollections from Brighton in jumbled order because I was so excited and nervous I blanked half the night as usual! After the cut.

- We came early and stood two in from barrier. I lasted through Time For Heroes which was insanely epic but the high number of asshole boys that almost took me off my feet sent me off to the side by third song.

- Ran backwards right into Emma’s arms by pure chance and watched the rest from Peter’s side two in from barrier. Great view, stage was close and high and I could see every scar on Peter’s arms, sad as that made me.

- The boys energy was lower than usual, Peter was especially tired, but they played a stellar monster of a show regardless.

- Carl worked really hard to lift Peter’s energy on multiple occasions - catching his line of sight, smiling at him, leaning in to warmly whisper to him, touching his arm etc, many times over. It was lovely to see how much he tried to get Peter psyched. It eventually worked as by the end of the set Peter was grinning and jumping with around with Carl as they played which was lovely.

- Between songs Carl gave Peter a quick hug and big kiss on the cheek by the speakers. They were on my side of the stage and Peter smiled a very sweet, coy smile to himself afterwards.

- They were right in front of me for a mic share on Can’t Stand Me Now. Carl’s teeth are so damn white! He was facing me and what I’m fairly sure I both heard and saw him mouth was “you’re still in love with me” instead “I’m still in love with you” right in Peter’s face during the mic share. He did a little eyeroll after so I’m not sure what Peter’s expression was as he was turned away from me.

- Carl looked hard at Peter when he sang, “got a little secret for ya” but Peter didn’t notice and didn’t return eye contact.

- Pretty sure they looked to each other across the stage when they sang “if you really need it you just don’t leave it behind”.

- Carl gave Peter a little butt kick and they manhandled one another gently for a moment.

- There wasn’t as much touchy stuff as Brixton but they seemed to be in synch and happy with one another overall, Peter just seemed tired.

- They did a few amazing covers including Everybody’s Talkin’ which is the theme song from Midnight Cowboy, which is a very interesting choice. The subtext of that film is very … them.

- They also did Dream a Little Dream complete with Carl tap dancing around Peter. He watched Peter the whole time which was so cute! Amazing to see this one live. It’s them in a nutshell.

- Carl started playing Begging but royally fucked it up despite Peter coming over twice to show him the chords. He stopped after a verse and chorus and did that shy cute thing where he rolls his eyes and acts all apologetic. Peter then sang part of it acoustic before they gave up.

- They did Katie and Peter sang a lot more than usual so the very close mic share went on ages with the two of them weaving around each other face to face. When it began, Carl danced around Peter a while around trying to get close to his face before he just yanked his head against his cheek. Peter had his back to me then and I just saw Carl’s hand come round and grip Peter’s neck with a lot of force and hold on tight. ‘Twas something!

- The stage looked amazing with the old movies flashing and flags and ye olde seaside imagery.

- Peter and Carl did a comedy routine with a laugh track … I could not understand a fucking word of it, so I filmed it!

- Peter yelled out to the crowd “who’s your second favourite Libertine?” Carl rolled his eyes, again, haha.

- They played over curfew and it was magical, really great set as tired as they seemed.

- Went to Carl’s dj thing next door after. Venue was terrible and pretty sparsely attended which was good for the people there to be honest as it was easy to get close to the booth. Carl was pretty late, round 2am I think, and I was outside smoking when Rage Against the Machine kicked in and I was like “Carl’s here!”

- He was being so cheesy and cute, singing along, fist pumps, acting out lyrics - adorable. Never making fun of his DJ moves again because in person it’s delightful.

- He came down to the crowd a bunch of times and hugged people, so sweet. Closest I’ve seen him and fuck me, what a beautiful man. Like honestly, he’s stunning.

- He also has the most fiery energy. He seems so intense, not negatively, but like everything radiating from him, charisma, happiness, pain, joy - all of it is amped up to 100. He’s just magnetic.

- I went to get the gift I had for him from coat check so I missed most of him playing Fuck Forever but I’m told he was singing along, wish I had seen that!

- Amy and Jess and Ana were so being lovely to me and shoving me in front of the booth. Next time Carl came down to the barrier to hug people, the lovely Amy told Carl I had a gift for him and he came straight over to me. I handed it to him and he grabbed me so fucking hard, he absolutely sunk into my furry coat and just squished me. (I said after that I’ve genuinely had lovers hold me with less passion haha). Squishing me all the while, he gave me a really big smooch with those puffy lips of his, and pressed so hard I could feel his stubble scratch on my cheek. ‘Twas lovely. He said in my ear, “I don’t know what it is but I’m sure I’ll love it” and then when I said, “I hope you enjoy it” he squeezed even tighter and finally let go. Jesus, what a hug. Might be the best of my life!

- I gave him a collection of rare experimental silent films released by a museum here a few years ago. Hope he likes it!

- He finished the set and was holding the gift I gave him as he played the last song which was so lovely to see.

- Walked home with Jana with the winds from Brighton beach whipping up our hair on an absolute high and can honestly say it was one of the best trips of my life. I love this band so much, so so much. Maybe next time, if there is a next time, I can finally give Peter his present.

#personal

62 notes · View notes

lynnearlington · 7 years

Note

Lex is killed in prison. Lena's reaction is a lot more than she thought it would be but she tries to deal on her own so Kara comes to comfort her

AO3 LINK

The news breaks on Twitter first, and then later on the national news. Lena doesn’t hear about it until she’s walking out of a marketing meeting and checks her phone.

It doesn’t register right away. The words seem so benign as they flash at her from multiple notifications on the screen.

LEX LUTHOR FOUND DEAD

The details are sparse. There’s a picture of Belle Reve Penitentiary and a few blurbs about a guard finding his body. No blood, no wounds. Just dead.

Lena reads what little news she can find while sitting at her desk that afternoon. The news plays on the television against the wall, but no one can seem to pinpoint a cause of death. Lena’s not much concerned with that kind of information. Lex had more than enough enemies. It was only a matter of time.

It isn’t until the news has already been everywhere for several hours that someone actually calls her directly. It’s the warden from Belle Reve and she almost laughs at his tentative. “Miss Luthor? I have some news regarding your brother.”

“I’m afraid Galaxy News has beaten you to it, Warden,” is all she says before promptly hanging up.

–

No one knows how to treat her or talk to her and she can’t say she really blames them. She imagines it has a lot to do with everyone being uncertain as to how she feels about her brother’s sudden death and frankly, she’s not sure she knows how she feels either.

Part of her can’t help but feel some measure of relief.

The other part….well the other part remembers late night chess games with her big brother and the way, until the end, he had always treated her like his beloved little sister.

She had mourned the loss of that version of Lex years ago, but there’s still something that dies inside her. Hope maybe. Hope that one day her brother might return to her.

–

The phone rings so constantly with calls from news outlets that she tells her assistant to just stop answering the phone entirely. Anyone that could possibly need to reach her has other means of doing so.

The day is spent in meetings with most of her department heads trying to mitigate any effect Lex’s death has had on stock prices and the company in general. There’s something cathartic about discussing her brother’s death in a practical manner. It certainly makes it easier to turn off any personal feelings she may have been having.

–

The first person she sees on any kind of personal level is Kara who walks into her office early afternoon one day with a somber expression on her face.

Lena looks up in surprise when her door opens, but she smiles when she sees Kara. “How did you sweet talk Jess into letting you in here?” Lena asks with a teasing quirk of her brow.

Kara laughs. “Jess loves me,” she answers, but when Lena just looks at her silently she adds, “And I brought her donuts from that place she likes on 5th.”

“Ah, bribery,” Lena says, leaning back in her chair. “You’re becoming quite the journalist.”

“That’s not bribery. It’s friendship,” Kara insists and Lena can’t help the face she makes.

“So you’re here as a friend and not a journalist? I have to imagine I’m hot news over at CatCo.”

A flash of hurt crosses Kara’s face. “Lena,” she says softly. “I’m your friend first. Always.”

Lena clears her throat gently, fiddles with a pen on her desk. “Well then, what can I do for you?”

Kara’s brows pull together. “I was going to ask you that,” Kara says. “I’ve been trying to call you, but your phone is off.”

“I’m fine,” Lena says and the words feel so robotic with how often she’s repeated them the last two days.

“You can’t be fine,” Kara replies with a knowing tone as she falls into one of Lena’s office chairs.

“Why not?” Lena asks with a sardonic laugh. “Lex Luthor supervillain extraordinaire is dead. I hear they were singing in the streets of Metropolis.”

“Lena,” Kara says softly and Lena can’t help the way she bristles at the tone. It feels to vulnerable to be talking about this in her office, sitting in a position of power in a company that Lex basically built with his own two hands.

“Don’t,” Lena says, voice equally as soft as she looks away from Kara. Her eyes settle on the TV on the wall where the news still plays silently. Superman is on the screen in the middle of the interview and Lena’s at least grateful she thought to put the television on mute. Kara’s eyes follow Lena’s just as she reaches for the remote and flips the screen off.

“Lena,” Kara tries again, but Lena stops her with a wave of her hand and a small smile.

“I’m fine, Kara. Honestly. I just have a lot of work to do.”

Kara looks entirely skeptical and a lot like she might try to push Lena into talking, but thankfully she just thins her lips and stands. “If you want to talk or anything,” Kara offers looking at Lena with a certain amount of concern.

“Thanks,” she says, looking away pointedly towards her computer.

Silence stretches for a few seconds while Kara just stands there before her friend paces away and the click of her office door shutting punctuates her exit.

–

The plans for a memorial service fall to her, but she only considers it for a few moments before passing it off. If the company wants to hold some kind of service than so be it, but she’s not going to involve herself in putting on a show over her brother’s dead body.

She thinks of how her mother is probably sitting in a cell somewhere fuming over the idea of not holding a parade or something in Lex’s honor and somehow that gives Lena just a shred of satisfaction over her decision.

–

Kara texts her no less than thirty times in the next two days. All of them invitations to hang out or have breakfast, lunch, dinner. There’s a considerable amount of food oriented invitations. Lena rejects them all. The idea of having to socialize or sit across from Kara’s understanding face feels like it would only lead to a confrontation with feelings that Lena’s not prepared for.

She expects her friend to take a hint after the fifteenth Sorry. I can’t. response, but she should have known better. Kara Danvers isn’t one for taking hints.

Instead, Kara shows up at Lena’s apartment late one night with two boxes of pizza, a bag of chinese food and a bottle of vodka.

“Alex told me to bring the vodka,” Kara comments as she pushes inside Lena’s apartment and sets all the items on the kitchen counter.

“Kara,” Lena warns, following her friend into the apartment.

“Lena,” Kara replies, spinning around to cut a quick glare at her friend. “Your brother died.”

The abruptness of the words startles Lena a bit and it must show on her face because Kara softens immediately and paces forward to take Lena’s hands in her own. “I’m not sure if anyone told you, but it’s okay to be sad about that,” Kara says softly.

The sudden understanding does exactly what Lena was afraid it would do and there’s a hot spike of tears at the back of her eyes.

“So you brought me all the unhealthy food you could manage and booze?”

Kara laughs, swings their hands together lightly. “I actually had more food than this, but Alex said you’d probably appreciate the vodka more than the junk food.”

“Your sister is a smart woman,” Lena says, releasing Kara’s hands to head for a kitchen cabinet and pull out two glasses. If she’s going to cry about something she’s at least going to be a little tipsy when it happens.

“Don’t let her hear that,” Kara jokes. “It’ll go straight to her head.”

Lena pours a shot of vodka into a glass and downs it immediately, laughing a little at Kara’s startled expression. “If you’re going to make me get emotional over this I’d like to be medicated,” Lena says. “The way my mother taught me.”

“That’s a dark thought,” Kara says, swiping at the bottle of vodka in Lena’s hands. “Maybe let’s make drinks that don’t taste like rubbing alcohol.”

Lena quirks a brow. “Did you buy five dollar vodka because you thought it was going to taste good?”

Kara makes an offended noise, but she smiles. “It cost me fifteen dollars thank you very much.”

“There’s juice in the fridge,” Lena deadpans, plucking the bottle back out of Kara’s hands and pouring herself some more.

There’s a disgusted look frozen on Kara’s face as Lena takes another sip of the liquor. “How are you drinking it warm like that?”

It’s actually not the most appealing taste, but Lena feels an odd need to show no amount of weakness. Instead of answering she goes to throw back the drink again, but Kara’s hand darts out and stops the glass. “Okay, just for my sake can we not do that? I feel like I’ll get drunk just by watching you.”

It makes Lena laugh just enough that for a moment that ache beneath her rib cage ebbs away in light of Kara’s teasing smile.

Kara rummages around in her fridge, mixes drinks that actually taste surprisingly good and forces Lena to sit on the couch with a plate of pizza.

“I don’t eat pizza very often,” Lena comments, eying the food on her plate.

“It’s veggie pizza,” Kara says. “It’s healthy.”

–

For the next hour all they do is sit on Lena’s couch with their drinks and their food and talk about absolutely nothing of consequence. At one point the conversation devolves into a heated argument over their favorite robots in pop culture - Lena advocating strongly for The Terminator and Kara arguing quite vehemently for Rosie from The Jetsons, before Lena has a sudden realization, staring out the window and letting the vodka and pizza work their way through her system.

“R2-D2,” she says, and Kara gasps.

“Oh my God, of course,” Kara says, and the absolute certainty on her face makes Lena smile, the littlest bit.

Eventually, Kara tries to talk about something real.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it-”

“I don’t,” Lena agrees immediately, cutting Kara off mid sentence.

Kara sighs. “I wasn’t going to say that you should,” she says. “I was going to say that we don’t have to talk about it, but you also don’t have to act like you’re fine.”

“I’m not trying to act like I’m fine,” Lena says slowly, looking away. “I am fine.”

Before Kara can reply, Lena adds. “I’m fine because I’ve been avoiding thinking about it.”

Kara’s silent after that, a contemplative look on her face.

“I just know what it’s like to lose someone close to you,” Kara says after a few seconds.

Lena laughs a little. “I’m no stranger to loss.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Kara says softly.

The threat of tears come again and Lena swallows against the sudden thickness in her throat. An ache settles there that Kara’s pretty blue eyes are doing nothing to help. “It feels like everyone is pretty happy that he’s dead,” Lena admits, with a wry twist to her lips. “But he was my brother.”

There’s a sad set to Kara’s eyes and an answering well of tears in them that makes Lena’s chest feel warm with affection for her best friend. “I know he was. It’s okay that you loved him.”

Lena doesn’t want to cry, but the exhaustion of restraining herself threatens to overwhelm her.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Kara says and she reaches out to set her hand over Lena’s where it sits against the couch cushions. “But you can talk to me if you want to. And all I will do is listen.”

The warmth of Kara’s palm bleeds across Lena’s skin and up her arm and she looks at the open, honest way Kara is looking at her. Their connection feels so powerful in that moment that Lena feels it like something tangible pulling them together. “Okay.”

“And if all you want to do is drink vodka, I will sit here and do that too. I’ll even spring for the spendy stuff next time,” Kara jokes and it makes Lena laugh.

“Thanks,” Lena whispers and Kara looks at her for a moment. “For not letting me do this alone.”

Kara smiles and turns Lena’s hand over until their fingers tangle together. “Lena,” Kara replies softly. “You’re never alone.”

For the first time since Lex went mad, since Lena lost the only person she’d ever trusted to always be there, she hears Kara’s words and starts to believe them.

#this isn't as shippy as you might have wanted it #but oh well sorry #this tag is for fic #prompt fill #otp: you could have fooled me #otp: you're my favorite #otp: i will always protect you #Anonymous

322 notes · View notes

alderations · 7 years

Text

roughing it

Day 5 (late) - camping!

Rating: Teen Audiences

Tags: fluff, domestic shit, mchanzo, symmarah, idk...

“My feet are gonna be covered in blisters, Zen.”

Zenyatta heaved a long-suffering sigh, or at least the robotic equivalent. “You don’t have feet.”

“Yes I do! And they hurt!” Though Genji was wearing his visor, his voice still made it clear that he was pouting behind it. “Just because I’m mostly metal doesn’t mean I’m not still soft and sensitive.”

“Certainly. On the inside.”

While Genji groaned like a child being dragged out of a candy store, Jesse adjusted his daypack and took a long draught from his water bottle. “We’re three miles in, Genji. You’re usually the lightest on those feet outta anyone I know.”

“I don’t think he’s every genuinely ‘roughed it,’ as you say,” Hanzo muttered from beside him.

“I have,” sputtered Genji. “What did you think I did post-Blackwatch? Floated around on luxury cruises?”

Jesse snorted, glanced at Hanzo, and both of them answered in unison, “Yes.”

Though he deflated even more at his friends’ teasing, Zenyatta’s cool hand on his shoulder perked Genji up again. He turned to look at his teacher, quizzical, and then smiled at the reassuring tilt of the omnic’s head.

They’d been growing close to Jesse’s ideal campsite for a few minutes, and as they crested a ridge and started down into a more sparsely vegetated area, the cowboy put his hands on his hips and proclaimed himself ready to settle down. Hanzo didn’t stop walking until he ran into Jesse’s elbow, which looked entirely purposeful from Genji’s angle. “So. Who’s ready to help me with this tent?” Jesse chirped.

“Just the one…?” grumbled Genji, already glaring between his brother and his best friend. He was not mentally prepared to sleep in the same space as the two of them, even with his own… love interest to distract him.

“Satya and Fareeha have another one. They’ll set it up once they get here.” The two women had come home from a mission the day before, so they decided to sleep in before joining the camping expedition. “Besides, I got a tarp and some blankets, and my friendly local space-heatin’ dragon man, so I’m good out under the stars.”

Genji crinkled his nose and tried to walk slower so that he couldn’t hear his best friend’s sappiness. “Well, that’s. Good for you, Jesse. Please don’t refer to my brother as a space heater in front of me.”

“Agreed,” Hanzo muttered.

They were halfway through assembling the tent by the time Genji realized that he was going to end up alone in a tent with Zenyatta, which left him flustered and blushing under his mask as he struggled to hide his nervous energy. It had been a month since Genji’s genuine feelings toward his mentor had come bubbling out of his mouth, and since Zenyatta had returned those feelings in kind. They weren’t dating, per se, even though most of their teammates considered that to be the case. Even before the mutual confession, they had spent most of their time together, usually touching or at least in close proximity, and that hadn’t changed. As he agonized over the possibility of ticks or mosquitoes making their way into the flesh parts of his body (virtually impossible as it was), Genji worried just as much over being alone—sleeping alone—with his… boyfriend. That was okay. They’d decided on that word. When Genji had been fighting to heal in Nepal, they’d spent nights together, usually just so that the soft glow of Zenyatta’s forehead array could keep him grounded and prevent him from rampaging, but this would be the first night they’d spent together now that they were, well, together.

He wasn’t surprised when Hanzo caught onto his apprehension and pulled him aside, while Jesse and Zenyatta struggled with the longest of the tentpoles and nearly stabbed each other with it. “If you’re not comfortable sleeping with Zenyatta when the rest of us are here, you do not have to. I don’t think he would mind staying outside.”

“I—sleeping with? I hope you’re not—”

“No, Genji, that’s not what I meant,” Hanzo interrupted, shaking his head with wide eyes. “I meant that I could trade places with Zenyatta. If you’d like. As much as I love Jesse, I also love sleeping with a roof over my head.”

For a moment, Genji almost considered it, and then felt a strange flux of emotions in response. First of all, he was delighted that he was able to trust his brother enough that sharing a tent, just the two of them, felt safe. Then, he realized that he did very much want to sleep with Zenyatta, at least in the more literal sense. In his early post-Blackwatch days, he remembered feeling like Zenyatta, while unfamiliar and even scary at times, was the only true source of safety in his life. Every touch was jarring and miraculous at the same time. It had taken years for Genji to get to the point where anyone could touch him without making him jump, but his body had acclimated perfectly well to the feeling of metal fingertips gracing his shoulders, his back, sometimes his face. While Genji didn’t miss his dependence on Zenyatta at that time, he did occasionally miss the feeling that every touch was a revolution between himself and his experiences. And with the way their relationship had turned, that feeling was coming back.

Most of all, however, Genji was filled with mischief as Hanzo shuffled in front of him. “Oh, Hanzo,” he laughed, “a night in the open air will do you some good, yes? Plus, how else will you and Jesse prove you’re tougher than me?”

“I don’t know, Genji. Did I not already prove it to be true when a slug crawled up your ankle and you screamed, or…?”

Genji sighed and stomped away before Hanzo could continue his teasing. Of course, that wasn’t the end of his misery. Every detail of camping was miserable, as far as the cyborg was concerned—his armor overheating in the sun, insects buzzing too close to his auditory receptors, eating Jesse’s refried beans and stale rice around a fire that put out too much smoke for his taste. Fareeha and Satya were two of Genji’s favorite people, but even they could get irritating once they decided to invent campfire songs about how their teammates irritated them on missions. Thankfully, they went to bed before they could harass Genji too much, leaving him and Zenyatta alone in their tent.

Despite his paranoid instincts telling him to be ready for battle at any time, Genji removed the outer plating of his armor and bundled himself in a massive sleeping bag before laying on the floor of the tent, facing Zenyatta. Moments passed in silence before Zenyatta floated gently to the ground to nestle in next to Genji.

“Camping is the actual worst,” mumbled Genji, shuffling closer to rest his head in Zenyatta’s lap. His visor was already off, and Zenyatta didn’t waste a second before running his smooth, cool fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “And I’m—I’m sorry I’ve been kinda awkward about this. About us.”

“Your actions have all been understandable, Genji. I’m only glad that you feel comfortable now.”

Genji sighed into Zenyatta’s knee. “I spent years training myself to believe that love was out of the question for me. Not even just ‘I’m gonna die alone’ and all that, but that it wasn’t even a possibility. So wh-when our friends expect us to act all romantic and lovey like they do, it’s like they’re pulling me back into this weird world where I’m actually… like them.”

Blue light pulsed in a slow rhythm from Zenyatta’s forehead and illuminated the conflict on Genji’s face. “It took you years to reconcile and understand your own humanity. Smaller facets such as this must be difficult as well.”

“Hm.”

“Besides,” whispered Zenyatta, “humanity is not very important in terms of love. I can assure you that the feeling is just as strong for omnics.”

A shiver wracked Genji’s spine, and he buried his face in Zenyatta’s pants to hide how he blushed at the quiet admission. As he started to get comfortable at last, however, his brother’s voice floated into the tent, followed by a sound from McCree that was… less than desirable to Genji’s ears.

“I take back everything I said earlier,” moaned Genji. “Camping can get worse, because those two can’t keep their fucking mouths shut.”

Zenyatta’s laugh made up for the awkwardness.

#overwatch #genyatta #genyatta week summer #my writing

35 notes · View notes

justinjohn · 8 years

Text

Mahogany. 1.15.17

I took the subway this morning with a homeless man.

I know, bizarre. Normally, when the subway doors open, and I walk on and see a person talking loudly to himself (or openly to the rest of the car) with a grocery cart situated next to him piled high with plastic bags, my inclination is to either move all the way to the other end of the car, or to just exit and re-enter through another door altogether. You risk too much: unsavory smells, noise-factor, a possibly terrifying confrontation.

But not at 6 AM this morning, in an otherwise sparsely populated subway car. I sleepily boarded with my luggage on the way to the airport and plopped down a few seats away from him, undecided whether my proximity to him was based on choice or lack of energy.

I strangely found some comfort in the man, dreads piled high on his head, bundled and tied with a plaid men’s flannel, wearing multiple pairs of pants, pontificating openly about something over and over again that sounded almost like chanting. He was, yes, ‘crazy’, but benevolently so. He seemed harmless, just lost in his own world, like I am much of the time, perhaps a little bit more so since he was talking to no one, but doing the same self-reckoning and trying to make some sort of sense out of this irrational world that I also do. His voice, of notable mention, was striking. It was what I can only describe as a rich mahogany wood, handsome, finished and reflective; it was reminiscent of a strong speaker I’ve heard on the radio before, like MLK or Jesse Jackson or something. Perhaps it was the darkness of the morning or the stiff silence of the subway car, but his voice cut through sharply and memorably. It was strong, distinctive, almost soulful, and its prayerful tones, though unsolicited, were in some ways, strangely soothing.

From stop to stop on my hour-long ride into Queens to JFK airport, I watched people walk from the platform and start to enter the car before turning and walking into another, or employing my own trick, stepping into the car and walking to the other end to evade any unwanted affront. I don’t blame them. But as I listened to him chant while casually slurping on what appeared to be Go-gurt packet, I couldn’t help but to think of his life for a minute.

What was he before this all happened? What was his life like? Assuredly he was born into a family that loved him, I imagine, or would at least liked to imagine. It can’t all have been bad, right? Was he from New York? Did he go to college? Did he have brothers and sisters? I didn’t know him, but from my cursory deductions from his voice and harmless affect, I imagined him being a peaceful being, some sort of activist maybe one day thirty years ago somewhere, using that voice to affect change. I imagined that he, at one point, probably had a life of conviction, where perhaps he sang or spoke in church or taught or something that fit with this persona I’d created. I pictured him in his late teens, in some wild 70s patchwork bell-bottom pants sitting on a blanket on a green campus patch somewhere in the summertime, pontificating a little like this morning, but lucidly, cleanly shaven, with beautiful natural hair that wasn’t tied up into a bun with a button-down shirt, and garnering a little following. I wondered when he became crazy- was it sudden, or was it gradual, starting to slowly lose connection with conscious reality and speaking aloud at will and without prompt. I wondered if something happened. I wonder if maybe he was caught up with something he never meant, or maybe did something, which forever he regretted. Or maybe nothing happened at all, such that he never could get ahead.

He didn’t strike me as a drug addict- there was another story there, and while I’ll never know what it was, it saddened me because, well, no one cares. Routinely throughout the day in New York, homeless people beg for money on the subway trains, and I ignore them. If I had been in this very car going anywhere else at any other time of the day, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about him, moving to a farther area of the car, being annoyed as I checked my Instagram that he was taking up the majority of a car with his heap of possessions, questioning what was inside the bags: plastic bottles or some other thing that homeless people collect. But because in that moment I had so little to distract me, I contemplated him.

And I realized.

No one chooses to be homeless. No one dreams of growing up to be living on a subway car. And yet we dismiss this group of people all of the time; chalk them up to being degenerates or people who without proper coping mechanisms, whose deplorable backgrounds had them arriving to this end from the start. And we walk past them or switch subway cars- reducing these people to an ‘inconvenience,’ a hindrance in the way of our busy lives with such great sense of purpose.

If there is one thing I have learned in the past six months after I quit my job, it’s that this way of thinking is a big crock of shit.

There is no ‘destination.’ Life is not an ‘upward path’ with an apex at the top of of which you look over the edge, dangling your happy little legs, and take a deep breath, sighing, “Guess I made it..” That doesn’t exist. Like, if there’s an apex, in the way that life actually exists, I imagine that to be.. death? Like, nothing really fantastic is coming for you after 75, let’s be honest. Like, maybe you get your pension. You’re lucky if you make it through without a life-altering car accident, a divorce, battling cancer at least once, or forming a prescription drug or alcohol habit. If you haven’t, congratulations. You just got lucky. But none of us gets through life unscathed. We all struggle and cope differently. Some afflictions are quieter and more accepted than others: being addicted to work, obsessed with money or sex.

Some people have outlets to deal with their issues: some turn to the gym, some turn to alcohol, some write four-page narratives about life. It just is what it is.

What we see at face value are the ‘results’ of people, what life has dealt them up until that exact moment. We have no ability to surmise someone’s early life experiences other than the value of our own life-survival kit: stereotypes, which sometimes serve us well, and sometimes don’t. There’s nothing we can really do about this; it’s how we are hard-wired, but I suppose the point is this: we don’t become a certain way in a ‘vacuum.’ We are the product of our environment. Of each other. So we should probably take more interest in each others’ welfare.

When we see a drug addict in the street begging for money, ostensibly to buy more drugs: is this fate his/her own shortcoming? What if the person was molested as a child? What if his/her parents abandoned the person? Would you have faired better? We all know what it’s like to need an escape from emotional trauma; some people find refuge in different things. However, because we only see the last slide of the ‘presentation’, so to speak, the person on the street corner begging for change, we just assume he/she can’t cope with their problems like ‘we’ can; they are broken, hopeless. Let me tell you something: no one chooses to be a drug addict. There is always a reason it has gotten to that dire place.

And less: what if someone cheats on a spouse? We demonize them. What if that person’s spouse was cold and unaffectionate for the duration of the marriage? What if that person’s spouse married that person for vanity and that person was stuck in a loveless contract, and finally someone came along, perhaps by mistake, and made him/her feel like something for once in his/her life?

And so it is with this homeless man. I think we all would like to assume he doesn’t want to work. That he’s probably lazy. Smokes a lot of weed. Why? Because that fits in the stereotype of what we’re taught about homeless people.

I think as human beings we forget to understand context. We like rules. Endings. Grouping things. Finished products. We think in terms of black and white, and sometimes, I think people fall victim to circumstance and context. I’m just saying it’s not always so easy.

No one on this planet doesn’t try. There’s no one in this world who isn’t born a tiny, happy baby hoping for the best for themselves and for others from the start, only to be oftentimes struck by the complicated factors of life that can so swiftly either bolster one’s success or thwart one from reaching his/her full potential.

But no one asks to be subjugated or downtrodden. There’s one who says “I give up” without a reason, no one who makes a mistake and continues to spiral because they want to, no one who opts to be ostracized by society. And yet we feel so obliged to judge.

You are not ‘chosen’ as much as I am not, but rather, I think we create these narratives in our lives so we feel meaning. So we don’t feel so aimless. And that is okay. What would life be without purpose, without a job to keep us busy forty to sixty hours a week, without this professional identity, without money or a home? I certainly knew whom I could ask in that moment. Instead, I watched him tether his cart to the subway pole with a piece of fabric and stretch out across the length of three seats and go to sleep.

I think the point is that we are all just trying to survive this life and this world in the best way that we know how. Live our story however it is going to write itself. We are all struggling in some way. Whether it is with finding love or just finding ‘ourselves’, trying to incorporate a new baby or the death of a loved one, seeking to embrace marriage or just one’s own sexuality, deciding where to spend one’s money with no time and/or family, or trying to deciding where to find money.

So, why are we so judgmental? Why are we so selfish? Look, what I’m trying to say is that we are all human and just trying to co-exist. It’s not about focusing always on the future when we have no idea how things will play out. And yet, we literally live in a world where we’ve killed off about 60% of the natural habitat for our own needs, cut health insurance for the poorest sectors of our society, and overlooking the rising temperatures of an already feverishly sick planet. I don’t know. Instead of trying to just get ahead, I wish we could work together more, to understand each other more, for one single mahogany voice to unite us in the silence. It’s a perception thing, I guess. And sometimes we think we have everything so figured out, and in other ways, we have no idea that we need glasses.

Justinthecity.

Like! Share! Tell Your friends! Share www.justinthecity.com Put me on your Google reader so you can stay fresh and up-to-date! Follow me on Instagram! Justinthecity_ Facebook? https://www.facebook.com/Justinthecity/ Or email me: [email protected]

1 note · View note

newstfionline · 6 years

Text

Americans: the next climate migrants

By Oliver Milman, The Guardian, 24 Sep 2018

After her house flooded for the third year in a row, Elizabeth Boineau was ready to flee. She packed her possessions into dozens of boxes, tried not to think of the mold and mildew-covered furniture and retreated to a second-floor condo that should be beyond the reach of pounding rains and swelling seas.

Boineau is leaving behind a handsome, early 20th-century house in Charleston, South Carolina, the shutters painted in the city’s eponymous shade of deep green. Last year, after Hurricane Irma introduced 8in of water into a home Boineau was still patching up from the last flood, local authorities agreed this historic slice of Charleston could be torn down.

“I was sloshing through the water with my puppy dog, debris was everywhere,” she said. “I feel completely sunken. It would cost me around $500,000 to raise the house, demolish the first floor. I’m going to rent a place instead, on higher ground.”

Millions of Americans will confront similarly hard choices as climate change conjures up brutal storms, flooding rains, receding coastlines and punishing heat. Many are already opting to shift to less perilous areas of the same city, or to havens in other states. Whole towns from Alaska to Louisiana are looking to relocate, in their entirety, to safer ground.

The era of climate migration is, virtually unheralded, already upon America.

The population shift gathering pace is so sprawling that it may rival anything in US history. “Including all climate impacts it isn’t too far-fetched to imagine something twice as large as the Dustbowl,” said Jesse Keenan, a climate adaptation expert at Harvard University, referencing the 1930s upheaval in which 2.5 million people moved from the dusty, drought-ridden plains to California.

This enormous migration will probably take place over a longer period than the Dustbowl but its implications are both profound and opaque. It will plunge the US into an utterly alien reality. “It is very difficult to model human behaviour under such extreme and historically unprecedented circumstances,” Keenan admits.

The closest analogue could be the Great Migration--a period spanning a large chunk of the 20th century when about 6 million black people departed the Jim Crow south for cities in the north, midwest and west.

By the end of this century, sea level rise alone could displace 13 million people, according to one study, including 6 million in Florida. States including Louisiana, California, New York and New Jersey will also have to grapple with hordes of residents seeking dry ground.

“There’s not a state unaffected by this,” said demographer Mat Hauer, lead author of the research, which is predicated on a severe 6ft sea level increase. There are established migration preferences for some places--south Florida to Georgia, New York to Colorado--but in many cases people would uproot to the closest inland city, if they have the means.

“The Great Migration was out of the south into the industrialized north, whereas this is from every coastal place in the US to every other place in the US,” said Hauer. “Not everyone can afford to move, so we could end up with trapped populations that would be in a downward spiral. I have a hard time imagining what that future would be like.”

Within just a few decades, hundreds of thousands of homes on US coasts will be chronically flooded. By the end of the century, 6ft of sea level rise would redraw the coastline with familiar parts--such as southern Florida, chunks of North Carolina and Virginia, much of Boston, all but a sliver of New Orleans--missing. Warming temperatures will fuel monstrous hurricanes--like the devastating triumvirate of Irma, Maria and Harvey in 2017, followed by Florence this year--that will scatter survivors in jarring, uncertain ways.

The projections are starting to materialize in parts of the US, forming the contours of the climate migration to come.

“I don’t see the slightest evidence that anyone is seriously thinking about what to do with the future climate refugee stream,” said Orrin Pilkey, professor emeritus of coastal geology at Duke University. “It boggles the mind to see crowds of climate refugees arriving in town and looking for work and food.”

Pilkey’s new book--Sea Level Rise Along Americas Shores: The Slow Tsunami--envisions apocalyptic scenes where millions of people, largely from south Florida, will become “a stream of refugees moving to higher ground”.

“They will not be the bedraggled families carrying their few possessions on their backs as we have seen in countless photos of people fleeing wars and ethnic cleansing, most recently in Myanmar and Syria,” Pilkey states in his book. “Instead, they will be well-off Americans driving to a new life in their cars, with moving trucks behind, carrying a lifetime of memories and possessions.”

Dejected with frigid New York winters, Chase Twichell and her husband purchased a four-bedroom apartment in Miami Beach in 2011, with the plan of spending at least a decade basking in the sunshine. At first, keeping a pair of flip-flops on hand to deal with the flooded streets seemed an acceptable quirk, until the magnitude of the encroaching seas became apparent when the city spent $400m to elevate streets near Twichell’s abode.

Twichell began to notice water pumps were spewing plastic bags, condoms and chip packets into the bay. Friends’ balconies started getting submerged. Twichell, a poet, found apocalyptic themes creeping into her work. Last year, she sold the apartment to a French businessman and moved back to upstate New York.

“It was like end of the world stuff,” she said. “It was crazy for us to have such a big investment in such a dangerous situation.” Her neighbours initially scolded her but now several are also selling up, fretting that the real estate and insurance markets for properties like theirs will seize up.

“It was horrible but fascinating to see it,” Twichell said. “It’s like we got to see the future and it wasn’t pretty. It’s like a movie where there’s a terrible volcano that is destroying everything, only it’s much slower than that.”

A sense of fatalism is also starting to grip some local officials. Philip Stoddard, mayor of South Miami, has seen a colleague, spooked by sea level rise, move to California and some neighbours sell their houses before an expected slump in prices. Stoddard and his wife regularly discuss buying a fallback property, perhaps in Washington DC.

“Most people will wait for the problem to be bad to take action, that’s what I worry about,” he said. “We can buy a lot of time, but in the end we lose. The sea level will go over the tops of our buildings.”

Those living near the coasts will face pressures of the gradual (sea level rise) as well as dramatic (storms) nature but people inland will also be harried to move by climate change.

Farming techniques and technology have improved immeasurably since the Dustbowl but rising temperatures are still expected to diminish yields for crops such as maize, soybeans and wheat, prompting the departure of younger people from farming. By 2050, Texas county, the largest wheat-producing county in Oklahoma, could spend an extra 40 days a year above 90F (32C) compared with now.

A study published last year found that the economies of the southern states, along with parts of the west, will suffer disproportionately as temperatures rise. Wealth, and potentially people, are expected to shift north and west.

Meanwhile, cities already struggling with heat will see wealthy residents head for cooler climes. Last year, 155 people died in Phoenix due to a particularly fierce summer. Increasing heat will start testing the durability of the populace, even those shielded by air conditioning. In the western states, wildfires are getting larger, razing homes in ever more spectacular ways and choking thousands of people with carcinogenic smoke.

Further to the south, at the border, there are suggestions that people from Central America are being nudged towards the US because of drought and hurricanes in their homelands, part of a trend that will see as many as 300 million climate refugees worldwide by 2050.

“People will get very grumpy and upset with very hot temperatures,” said Amir Jina, an environmental economist at the University of Chicago who co-authored the research on economic losses. “Even if you have air conditioning, some areas start to look less habitable. By the middle of the century parts of the south-west and south-east won’t look attractive to live in.

“That insidious climate migration is the one we should worry about. The big disasters such as hurricanes will be obvious. It’s the pressures we don’t know or understand that will reshape population in the 21st century.”

Some will just grimly hang on. “With property rights as strong as they are in the US, some people may choose to go down with the ship,” said Harvard’s Keenan. “The question is whether they have the means and the options to do anything else.”

“People can usually cope with being a little less comfortable, but if you see repeated storms or severe damage to crops, that will trigger change,” said Solomon Hsiang, who researches how climate change will affect society at the University of California.

“There will be pressure to move a little north. It won’t be everyone, though, it won’t be like the great migration of wildebeest in Africa. Whole cities picking up and moving would be hugely expensive.”

Ultimately, the US will have to choose what it wants to defend and hope its ingenuity outstrips the environmental changes ranged against it. Not everyone will be able to shelter behind fortifications like the ‘big U’ planned to defend lower Manhattan. Wrenching decisions will have to be made as to what and where will be sacrificed.

“We won’t see whole areas abandoned but neighborhoods will get sparse and wild looking, the tax base will start to crumble,” said Stoddard, mayor of South Miami. “We don’t have the laws to deal with that sort of piecemeal retreat. It’s magical thinking to think someone else will buy out your property.

“We need a plan as to what will be defended because at the moment the approach is that some kid in a garage will come with a solution. There isn’t going to be a mop and bucket big enough for this problem.”

#climate change #climate change refugees

0 notes

sinceileftyoublog · 6 years

Text

Jess Williamson Interview: Woman and her Symbols

Photo by Chantal Anderson

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Jess Williamson is able to look back with wisdom and gratefulness at the period of her life that inspired her new album Cosmic Wink. Moving from Texas to LA, not knowing whether the person you love is going with you, and an aging dog might not seem like traditional fodder for a record. Yet, Williamson was able to channel all of these anxieties into something truly spiritual.

It’s easy to get lost in the timelessness of the music--somewhere between high and lonesome country and expansive indie rock--but here’s the the record's chronological context: Williamson was already planning to move to LA but was falling in love with her bandmate Shane Renfro (who also records as RF Shannon). She moved, he visited, and then he moved to LA. “We pretty quickly merged our lives,” Williamson told me in late June over the phone. The two (Renfro co-produced and co-wrote Cosmic Wink) made the record back in Texas. A month before that, Williamson’s beloved dog Frankie passed away. “I think she knew my life was about to change in some pretty drastic ways that meant I would be touring and traveling a lot more. I think she knew she wasn’t down with that,” Williamson said. “She picked the perfect time to leave. Before we made the record...she was able to be with her vet that knew her forever. She had a lovely service surrounded by the people she loved.”

Talking to Williamson, you get the sense she has these innate connections with both living things and herself. She’s at once intellectual and sort of mystic, referring to psychological theories in the same sentence as astrology. That interplay certainly finds its way into the songs on Cosmic Wink. Opener “I See The White” is a song about love and consciousness, while “Wild Rain”’s exemplary of her self-reflection. “You say there's two women / Living inside of me / And one's doubt and desire / And she's our enemy / Yet it's her wellness / That draws you in close,” she sings, exuding both a sense of grounded self-awareness and otherworldly warmth. It’s also worth noting that Williamson’s wish to establish connection even finds its way into interviews--she’s the first person to ever ask me in return what’s my favorite song on her new album.

Williamson is eager to return to Chicago after a successful show opening for Loma at Schubas back in May, which she called “the best show of the whole tour.” Tonight at Empty Bottle, she and her band will play all the songs from Cosmic Wink. Below, read the rest of our conversation, edited for length and clarity, in which she breaks down the album’s aesthetic, title, cover art, and more.

Since I Left You: Cosmic Wink is based on some pretty publicized distinct events--happy and sad. Was there anything specific you wanted to communicate about yourself through the record, or did you more make it to process what was going on in your life?

Jess Williamson: I was ready for a shift. My previous records are a lot more somber and sparse and more haunting and sad. I was ready to change that, to make music in a different way. My personality is not very somber and sad. That’s just where the music was coming from for a long time. I was ready to make a record that felt more me, to be able to relax and do it. I started touring a lot more, and I was touring solo, and playing all these sad songs--which of course, I love. Most of my favorite music is sad songs. But you’re asking a lot of your audience to be quiet and listen to the lyrics. I was opening up for bigger bands who were having a lot of fun playing loud, upbeat music. I realized I really wanted to do that. That’s a big reason the record sounds the way it does. Giving myself permission to have a little more fun.

SILY: Is that where the “cosmic” part of the album title comes from?

JW: A few months before I started writing the record, I read this book called Man And His Symbols. The first section is by Carl Jung, and the next is by other authors. But he edited it, and they’re all people he worked closely with. Essentially, the book is all about working with your unconscious and working with dreams. There’s this Jungian concept called synchronicity--looking for meaningful coincidences you really can’t explain. If you start to notice these things in your life, you realize they’re pointing to something larger you need to pay attention to or a path you needed to go down. I just kind of started learning about this stuff and getting super interested in this Jungian way of living.

I'm also really into astrology. It was my birthday, and it was a new moon in Sagittarius, and I’m a Sagittarius, so I was like, “This is really special.” I was reading about it, and one of the readings I came across said to look for synchronicities during this new moon because they are cosmic winks from the universe letting you know you’re not alone. Right after that, I came out to LA, started this new romantic relationship, and was looking for signs all the time. My whole life turned upside-down, so I needed something to hold onto. Whether I was looking for answers or not, I found them. In a way, the record was a cosmic wink itself. I took some pretty big leaps of faith, and my life is for the better, because I’m able to make music the way I want to, having signed with Mexican Summer. I made the album before they were in the picture. It all is kind of looking up.

SILY: Did you get any new pets after your dog died?

JW: No, I’m not ready, because I’m still heartbroken over Frankie. I would feel like I was betraying her [laughs]. But we also have so much touring coming up. It wouldn’t be fair to a new puppy. Hopefully one day.

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

JW: The front cover is a photo of me in Malibu that Shane took. We were on a hike and going to my friend’s engagement party. We literally changed clothes in the car, and I put makeup on, but as we were driving we saw this insane sunset. I said, “Shane, we have to turn around. That’s amazing.” He just snapped this photo of me, and it turned out to be the perfect cover choice. I knew I wanted a photo overlooking the ocean at sunset. It made sense for this album.

The back is this great design that Bailey Elder did--she’s one of the graphic design team members at Mexican Summer. I love it because different aspects of the art represent different aspects of the lyrics. I actually sent her a picture of Frankie, and she drew Frankie for the back of it. There’s a little slice of the sunset on the back, too, joining the front and back cover as if it’s a little portal. I can’t speak too much on it, because it’s really Bailey’s art, but that’s my take on it.

SILY: This might be a hard question, but do you have a favorite song on the record?

JW: That’s such a hard question. It changes. It used to be “Wild Rain”. I don’t know. I really don’t have a favorite. At one point it was “I See The White”.

SILY: Your stated influences on the record are a lot of canonical rock ‘n’ roll from the 60′s or even the 90′s. Did you want to make this record a bit more accessible?

JW: Absolutely. I wanted to make a record that felt classic and universal. To be honest, when I hear a song from Heart Song in certain contexts, I’m embarrassed. It’s a really intense, deeply personal, vulnerable record. That can be uncomfortable, even for me at times. But now, I’m like, “Yeah, let’s listen to Cosmic Wink!” It was an exercise in making an album that’s universal. Of course it’s about me, but it can be about anyone. The lyrics are more universal and open-ended on purpose.

SILY: What else is next for you?

JW: Today, I’m finishing some cover songs for Aquarium Drunkard. The rest of my year is touring, and in between tours, trying to write.

SILY: What songs are you covering?

JW: I’m doing “Unravel” by Bjork and “A Thousand Miles From Nowhere” by Dwight Yoakam.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading that’s caught your attention?

JW: I’ve been listening to the new RF Shannon album called Trickster Blues. It’s amazing. I’ve been reading How To Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan. It just came out. The subtitle is What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence. I’m about halfway through. I just watched Won’t You Be My Neighbor. I cried. What was really interesting for me was that I’m also reading a Ram Dass book called Polishing The Mirror. It came out about 4 years ago--it’s a really succinct book about how to live your life well. The way Fred Rogers lived his life is essentially the exact same way Dass talks about how to live a good life. It's all the same. All the great teachings about how to live and be a good person on this earth. It doesn’t matter what religion or spiritual context you’re coming from. Fred Rogers was a minister. He was a Christian. And what better example of how to live in a Christ-like way. I’m not a Christian, but I do think that Jesus Christ is an enlightened being that was on this earth that was an example for how to live.

0 notes