#i was like HEY why are his vocals so muffled and why is the bass so loud and vibratey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Come Home, Take Two

CW: Vaguely referenced past noncon/whump of a minor, trauma response, survivors navigating physical touch (platonic), self-loathing, some negative stimming (no self-injury)

Direct follow-up to this piece where Chris overhears something Jake says to Dr Masood and runs off. I’ve had some requests for more Chris and Kauri lately so I hope this is what you were hoping for!

Timeline: Three days after Jake is returned to the safehouse following the Safehouse Raid mini-series

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump

There’s a scrape of shoes against the sidewalk behind him, plastic and canvas slip-ons, Chris thinks, closing his eyes. Black and white checks, the white part almost beige from dirt and everyday wear.

Faded black skinny jeans with holes in the knees, almost charcoal-gray color now. Probably just a t-shirt, stolen from someone’s bed the night before. The ever-present zip-up over it, the sweatshirt that belongs to someone Chris has never seen but Kauri talks about with stars or tears in his eyes, no in-between.

Chris keeps his eyes closed, feels the curb where he sits underneath him, hard rounded concrete. He’s rocking back and forth, so carefully that it’s probably not even obvious, but he doesn’t like the sound of the traffic driving back and forth, people shouting at each other to say hello or goodbye or just shouting.

Somewhere, deep inside of him, he feels a little boy’s grip onto a woman’s hand, to shield him against the endless, incessant noise.

There’s quiet, for a breath of time, and Chris thinks about so many things in that second - he is aware of the noise, and aware that he has a memory that wants to bubble up and hurt him, aware of the sharp edge of Jake’s voice saying I don’t want to fucking be around him if this is what happens! and the reality of his own utter perfect helplessness if they come back, how ugly it is to need to be saved, need someone like Jake to get hurt instead of him.

How much of a tiny little worm of a person he is that he can’t protect himself.

“Hey.” Kauri’s voice is calm - Chris can’t tell what he’s thinking from that voice, and then Kauri flops down onto the curb next to him, a mess of black curls and big blue eyes, setting his backpack next to him. He smells like the park - green grass and sunshine, children laughing. “Nick said you were asking people for me.”

Chris looks away from him, fixing his eyes on a bit of old gum a foot or so off to his right, stuck to the pavement and stepped in and ground in until it’s just a stain, just part of the sidewalk, ignored and not inconveniencing anyone. Unprotected. “I, I, I don’t know where I, um, am, but I saw people doing the, the, the thing you do, so I thought-”

“Chris, did you just assume I know every fucking homeless person in this city? Well, I guess you got lucky, because I kind of do.” Kauri’s voice is light and teasing, but Chris doesn’t react, and the smile starts to fade from Kauri’s face. “Chris, what are you even-... can I ask why you’re asking random people about me this far from home?”

Home. Chris tries to laugh all bitter like Jake does sometimes, but all that comes out a sniff, and he rubs at his nose with his sleep to try and pretend it wasn’t from tears. “I, I got lost,” he admits, voice low, almost muttering. “I was, um, was, was... was-was-was-was... was... upset. So I took, took a walk, and-”

“What made you upset? Did... did something new happen?” Kauri’s voice drops, not that anyone’s listening to them. But anyone could be. They’re never really safe, not ever. Once you sign the contract you never belong to yourself, ever again.

All pets are of legal and consenting age-

Chris tries to stop the memorized thought before it can derail everything else, before he gets lost in reciting what he’s been taught, been trained to think. His hands, curled against his stomach to hide them behind his knees, grip more tightly into the fabric of the oversized big blue shirt he’s wearing over the long-sleeved one underneath.

“Chris, are you... still not-... Nat called and said everything’s okay, now, that I could come back to visit again-”

“It’s fine. It’s, it’s, it’s all, it’s... it’s f-fine.” Chris clenches his eyes shut, hating himself for his stammer, for all his wrong fucking words, just one more thing other people do for him, to keep him safe so nobody looks close because he has to be protected, he can’t be free on his own like Kauri is. He can’t just go wherever he wants like Kauri does.

“It’s clearly not.” Kauri’s voice is wry, but soft, and he leans to the right, gently bumping Chris’s shoulder with his own. Someone across the street calls out Kauri’s name and Chris watches him lift his chin, a bright smile on his face as he waves at the man, who waves back and then ducks into a shop.

“Wh-who’s that?” Chris asks, craning his head to see the man a little better before he disappears into the shadows of the coffee shop’s interior.

“Hm? Oh, James something-something. He’s pretty cool.” Kauri shrugs carelessly, and Chris wonders what it’s like to be so careless about people - to get so close to people you don’t know if you can trust, to roll a dice like that over and over and over again. Kauri catches him looking and smiles again, nudging him with his elbow this time, sharp through the soft fabric of the zip-up he’s always wearing. “Tell me what happened, Chris.”

Chris is silent, letting his hair fall over his eyes like he would do sometimes at Sir’s, only Sir would always push it back out of his face and let his fingertips linger, grazing over Baldur’s forehead and cheeks and jaw, murmuring things Chris doesn’t want to think about, ever again.

Here, he keeps his hair in his eyes and nobody stops him.

“Jake said he, he, he-he-he doesn’t want me anymore,” Chris whispers.

Kauri blows out air with slightly puffed cheeks, almost comical, sitting back on his hands. The two of them are quiet for a second as cars drive past, scent the air with exhaust, turned-up bass beats that make Chris’s skin crawl with invisible insects at the pressure of the noise against his skin. “Chris, I’m not trying to say you don’t remember things, but there’s no fucking way he said that.”

“He, he, he-he did! He said, um, he said, said, said-said... said... he said he doesn’t want to, to be around me.” Chris feels his heart twist and lurch, the drop of miserable unhappiness.

“There’s no way-”

“He did! It’s, it’s exactly what he said!” Chris turns, all but shouts the words right into Kauri’s face, making the other rescue, older and freer and, in Chris’s mind, everything he wishes he could be... flinch.

Chris feels something between horror and excitement at the idea that he could ever do anything that would make someone else scared of him.

“Please don’t yell at me,” Kauri whispers, and all the elation drops out of Chris at the sudden wavering vulnerability in Kauri’s voice. Kauri doesn’t like yelling, Chris knows that - everyone knows that. If people start arguing, even normal arguments, Kauri disappears, just the slam of a door and running footsteps on the porch, flash of wild black curls disappearing over a fence.

“I’m, I’m sorry.” Chris feels even worse now. He’s lost and he doesn’t know where he is and Kauri came over to help and he yelled at him - and Jake is mad, and Jake should be mad because he shouldn’t have to get hurt so that Chris doesn’t, that shouldn’t have to happen and it wouldn’t if he wasn’t so-

so fucking helpless-

Chris groans and rocks forward hard, putting his hands up and twisting them into his hair, dropping his face between his knees to hide it, to muffle the sound he makes low in his throat, frustration and guilt twisted up together in his vocal chords.

“You’re okay,” Kauri says, softly, reaching out hesitantly to lay a hand against his back, rubbing up and down. Ready to pull back if Chris pulls away, hyperaware of the way he moves and thinks and feels the way they’re all trained to be. Ready to be good, to please-

Chris groans again, eyes hot and angry even though he’s clenched them shut as tightly as he can. “I’m not. I’m n-not, not, not-not-not safe, I’m not, I’m not safe for him-.. for Jake, I’m not safe.”

“Neither am I.” Kauri’s voice is low, and he leans over until his forehead rests gently against the side of Chris’s head, black curls and straight strawberry blond, glinting in the warm hint of sunshine on the chilly late-winter day. “Neither was Krista and neither is Leila and not even Antoni. None of us are safe for him. We could all get him arrested, put in jail, in prison, just for helping us escape. We could all get him hurt. All of us.”

“H-he said-”

“I guarantee whatever he said didn’t mean he’d walk away. If he hasn’t yet, he’s sure as fuck not going to now. Not from you, Chris.” Kauri’s arm slides around him, a barrier against the way the traffic noise has been settling in a weight on Chris, pressing in on him, forcing him deeper inside himself to try and escape it. “Jake doesn’t give up on people. He doesn’t do that.”

“What, what, what... what if... if I-”

What if I’m so bad that I’m the one he’ll give up on?

The words are caught in Chris’s throat. He can’t seem to force them up onto his tongue, out from behind his teeth. They sit like a lump he has to swallow and breathe around, the fear growing and growing and growing.

What if he was better as the statue boy? He served a purpose, Sir said, he was living for a reason, then, when otherwise he wouldn’t have had one. He was made for this, he was made to do this, he was made to be good to do what Sir wants to be so good-

“I know what you’re doing,” Kauri whispers, breath warm against his ear. “Chris, I do the same thing. You’re thinking and thinking and thinking until you think the worst things and then they get stuck in your head and you can’t make them stop. Listen, come with me to the park, let’s get you somewhere quieter-” Kauri’s phone went off, buzzing madly in his back pocket, and he slipped it out, not bothering to look and see who it was - he couldn’t read whatever name had been put there, anyway. “Hello?”

A pause, and then Kauri smiled, slightly.

“Hey. Yeah, I got... slow down, he’s right here. I’ve got him. Yeah, he’s across from that place that sells the big croissants with chocolate in them you like. He was asking around for me.” Kauri’s eyes flicker to the sign over the coffeeshop’s door and then away again, expertly shifting to avoid reading the sign and bringing on a headache or passing out right in the street again. “He’s okay, Jake.”

Chris’s heart beats faster, something between dread and hope.

“You want to talk to him? Yeah, okay.” Kauri drops the phone and hits the button for speaker, giving Chris another nudge. “Jake wants to talk to you, Chris. Can you say something?”

Chris feels about two inches tall. He keeps his eyes closed and curls up tighter, rocking again. “H-hi, Jake, I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I’m not safe-”

“Chris, I’m so fucking sorry that I scared you-” Jake starts at the exact same moment.

There’s a pause as they both come to a rough, uncertain stop. A silence broken only by the sound of Kauri’s I told you so smile.

“Let me talk first,” Jake says, when the pause has drawn out too long. “Please? Can I talk first?”

Chris nods, then remembers Jake can’t actually see him nodding through the phone, and clears his throat against the growing lump of words there. “Y-yeah, okay, okay, you go, um, you go first.”

“Okay. Just. Can you come back, please? I need-... I need you to not be gone from the house right now.” Jake’s voice is thin and strained, the deep rich voice that has talked Chris through thunderstorms and nightmares a dozen times or more sounds higher-pitched, a little wobbly. Worried and scared and maybe... maybe something else, too. “I’m sorry what I said scared you, but I didn’t-... I think you thought I meant it a different way-...”

“I don’t-... I don’t, um, I don’t want to, to, t-... to to to get you hurt again, you said... you said if I got you arrested again-”

“No, I-... okay. Yeah. I see how that’s... listen. I just meant... fuck. I’m so fucking scared I’ll hurt you, Chris. You understand?”

Chris swallows, looking at Kauri, then back at the phone, studying it like it will explain this better. “No.”

“The last week just... fucked me up really bad, Chris. I saw what they-... I saw when-... fuck, I can’t even talk about it, it was so... so fucked up. But I can’t-... I can’t have you out there and I’m just sitting here like a dumbass. Can you come home so I can apologize to your face?” Jake hesitates, and his voice cracks on the next word. “Please?”

Come home.

Chris’s eyes water, because he has one, doesn’t he? He has a home to go to that isn’t a single hallway and a giant room and an awful bed he hates so much because he screams in his head every time he’s in it. He has his own bed with ugly plaid sheets he picked out himself and a framed painting of a bird above his bed and a white birch tree and a yard he can do backflips in and a Jake who will hold him and not want a single thing other than the holding.

“I’m scared of, of, of-of-of you getting hurt again,” Chris says, low and muffled behind his legs, but Jake hears it anyway.

“Yeah, I’m fucking terrified of that, only for you. Just-... come home, Chris. We can be scared together, at least, yeah? And I can explain what I was... trying to say.”

We can be scared together.

Chris sniffs and raises his head a little, blinking until tears run down his cheeks, rubbing at them with his hands. Thinks of Jake sliding the shirt off his head and handing it to Chris inside the hiding spot behind his closet when the men were downstairs bashing the house apart trying to find hidden rescues, to drag them back to hell.

Chris has those extra seconds Jake spent, when he should have been running downstairs to help Nat, instead whispering the words to the song that is the promise he made to a frightened boy seared into his mind for the rest of his life.

I will rescue you.

“Oh... okay. I’ll come right back now, I, I, I-I-I p-promise. But I, I, I don’t know where I, um, I am-”

“Oh, that’s not a thing,” Kauri says, and Chris jumps. He’d forgotten Kauri was there holding the phone at all, had been too focused on Jake’s voice. “I know every fucking block in this city by now. I’ll get him home in like an hour, Jake, yeah?”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Kauri. Keep him safe for me until I can-... until he’s right in front of me again, okay?”

Kauri smiles, and there’s a shimmer in his eyes, too. “Jesus, Jake. We should all be so lucky to have someone who wants to see us that badly.”

There’s a pause, and Jake says, softly, “You have that too and you know it, Kauri.”

“I’m not talking about that, you can’t make me, give it a rest. We’ll see you in an hour.” Kauri hangs up the call and turns to look at Chris, eyebrows raised. “Well? I made the grand total of fifty-three dollars and twelve cents between yesterday and this morning. What d’you say we go in there-” He points across the street. “-get ourselves something to drink and you something to eat, and head back to Jake before he melts into a puddle of worry over you?”

Chris hesitates, then leans over and kisses Kauri’s cheek, all impulse and suddenness, and feels the smile shift Kauri’s skin under the gentle press of his lips. “Thanks, Kauri.”

“Yeah, well.” Kauri might have a blush on his face as he stands and offers Chris his hand to help him up, too, picking up the backpack he always keeps on and sliding it over his shoulders, slung low with the weight of what’s in it. “You don’t go around being so fucking adorable and not expect us to give you whatever you want forever, right?”

Chris snorts, trying for Kauri’s dry, the-life-I’ve-lived sarcasm, but all he manages is to sound a little like a baby horse.

When Kauri laughs, so does he.

Then they wait for a break in traffic and, hand in hand, race across the street to get some coffee before they catch the bus and head back home, where Jake is waiting for Chris to keep his promise, and the words are warm and golden in his chest, just behind his heart.

Come home.

186 notes · View notes

ravenvsfox · 6 years

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Hi I love your band au fic! I was wondering if or when you were gonna write the next chapter :3

(thank you so much honey, here’s chapter four!!)

Their first show goes badly.

They don’t practice for long enough, just two weeks of lyric reworking and transposition, Neil trying to bring his technique back from the dead, Kevin spitting and tearing his hair out.

They find themselves onstage like a machine with five separate motors and all the bolts loose. Andrew watches the way Neil’s shoulders turn into water when the stage lights hit him, the seam of dark hair that splits his scalp becoming a winding red river.

It's the stupidest thing, how he looks copy and pasted out of history, a magazine rocker back from when that meant something dangerous.

Kevin plays over top of Neil’s vocals. Bouncy bass lines that spit like oil in a pan, so out of place that Aaron stops playing, confused. Neil sings louder and his voice strains and pulls apart so you can see the tendons in it.

The audience screams and whispers, they're not sure if Neil is here to stay, they don't know what it would mean if he did. Do I stop buying their albums? They murmur. Is this them selling out? Mainstream, pretty vocalist on top of their band like a wedding cake topper?

And then closer to the stage, tuned in, pupils swollen, Neil’s voice speaks to some of them like an open fire, turns their faces red, opens them up.

Andrew watches them with a kind of gratification, though he's not sure if he’s thinking of the band’s success or the way he feels the same draw as them, warming his hands on something as nuclear as Neil.

They slice the end off of their set. They can’t get their sound all the way together, even when the 50 fans they'd really reached shout for an encore. The rest of the venue leaves in ecstasies of conversation: who is he? Who is he? Who is he?

Or maybe that's the sound of Andrew’s furious thoughts, drowning it all out.

Or maybe it’s the mushrooms he took before the show. It’s the kind of high that pries everything apart and make him feel like he wouldn’t be able to hide even if all the lights were off, even if he had a hand clapped over his mouth.

Neil spins and starts to gather his microphone cord, preoccupied. Kevin puts his bass down carefully in its stand and shoots whiskey out of the bottle. He always makes the same face after, like it only hurts narrowly less than it helps.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks.

“Yeah, what was it?” Neil returns, like he was waiting for it. The house lights are on now, and all the sweat that made him look waxy and feverish as if by candlelight is now dark on his t-shirt and slick as grease in his hair. “You forget what dynamics are supposed to sound like?”

“I was trying to compensate for your horrifying lack of skill and professionalism,” Kevin says.

“Oh yeah? So you thought you’d play badly enough to drown me out? Interesting tactic.”

Kevin steps closer and Nicky stands in between them, guitar jutting out like a gate. “Kev,” he says lowly. “We're still getting it together. No one thought our first show was going to be groundbreaking.”

“Then why did we bother having it?” he snaps.

“Practice,” Andrew says. “Like everything else.”

“Yeah, hey, I’ve heard it makes perfect,” Nicky jokes nervously.

“That’s not fair to the audience,” Kevin says. “We can’t be figuring our shit out on the stage they paid money to—“

“Oh, but it was your fault, wasn't it Kevin. Let's be honest,” Andrew says. “You decided Neil was going to fail before we stepped foot on stage, and then you made sure of it.”

Kevin looks gobsmacked, and Andrew hears Aaron muffle a laugh. Neil looks back and forth between them, strung between surprise and suspicion.

“I didn’t—“ Kevin stops, puts a steadying hand on his stool. “I wouldn’t sabotage our set to—what—prove a point?”

“Because you’re above that kind of thing,” Neil says sarcastically. “Except that your playing is always going to come before other people though, right?” He seems to realize halfway through speaking that he respects this quality in Kevin, and his voice softens.

Kevin doesn’t answer, but his eyes are needly. “So you’ve all decided to pin this on me?” He’s looking at Andrew.

“Sure have,” he replies cheerily. “Don’t do it again, hm?”

Kevin swallows and thumbs the tuning pegs on his bass, upset. “I fucking hate you when you’re high.”

“Are we supposed to believe he's the love of your life when he’s sober?” Aaron asks flatly. Kevin’s opens his mouth, teeth bared like he’s going to reply, but instead he shoves a sheaf of notes and music off of his stand and storms offstage. Andrew watches the paper flutter to the floor.

“I didn’t need your protection,” Neil says.

“So you keep saying,” Andrew says, and then he follows Kevin to the bar.

______

Neil comes up when you google him, now.

Wymack released a clipped statement on behalf of Palmetto that Neil is the fifth member of Ausreißer and that yes, they know it's unorthodox to change the line up halfway through a tour, but they’re excited to be working closely together on new music. He runs it by the band before turning it over to the press, and Neil frowns all the way through it.

They do a handful more shows on the east coast where Neil and Kevin don’t look at each other. The audience swells, curious or infatuated with the singer whose voice lays on top of the instrumentation like oil on water.

Neil has a wicked panic attack in the motel bathroom when Nicky shows him his wikipedia page, no picture or credits, just a line of text that links him undeniably to the rest of the monsters. He starts wheezing, then falling, and Andrew squeezes the back of his neck and tells him over and over again to come back to himself and cut it out.

Nicky stands with his hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes until Neil gasps and breathes deeply.

At a show in New York, Neil starts experimenting, playing with the audience, his presence taking up so much of the stage that the air starts to feel thin and hard to come by. He’s still a little high from the afternoon edibles they took, and his voice is throaty and loose.

He makes a bad joke about Kevin's tattoo, something about his solos being like labyrinths, and Kevin grins, does an open slide down the fretboard that might as well be a thank you. When music is their primary language, they never fight.

Neil’s all over the stage, twitching with music, eyes closed. Nicky takes his hands off his guitar to spin Neil into his body and then out again, and the momentum sends him over to the drum kit.

He sings into Andrew's microphone, silver tongue, yellow hair long enough to stick to his cheekbones. For a moment, he wants him so completely that it makes his drumsticks tangle, a few beats bunching together like a clot in the rhythm. Neil’s eyes open, right next to him, car crash blue.

Andrew doesn’t look away, and in his head, pieces of lyrics start to hatch, bloody. Inspiration never used to come as easily or painfully as this, like Neil took a screwdriver directly to his brain and pried the words out.

Neil drifts away again, singing about not wanting to be seen, singing about the way staying alive is different from being alive. He always speaks Andrew’s lyrics like they’re just now occurring to him, and it makes him almost jealous.

He spends more time on stage than off. His talent loosens and rolls out like well-worked dough, voice going so relaxed and syrupy that it seems almost involuntary.

Halfway through one of their sets he sits in the middle of the stage, in a snake pit of wires, and sings clunky hard rock like a ballad. The rest of the band and the audience all crane towards him, listening for him like a pulse.

In private, they eat burger king in the van, Aaron dips fries in the zesty sauce that's meant for onion rings, Kevin plucks at a guitar to hone his skill on a broader fretboard, and Nicky squats outside the open driver's side door and tries to beckon a street cat into his lap.

Andrew lights a cigarette and wonders if Neil is aware of how he arches into the smoke like it’s fresh air.

"What are you doing?” Neil asks, leaning over the seat between them to look at Andrew’s open notebook, the cigarette between his fingers instead of a pen.

“Writing.”

Neil looks sceptical. “Lyrics?”

“The great American novel,” Andrew says sarcastically.

“Read it to me,” Neil challenges.

“You are bored,” he says. A side effect of his increasing comfort on stage is a dullness everywhere else.

“I’m trapped constantly in a van with shitty company.”

“Great, this can be your stop, then," Aaron says, waving a fry in Neil’s direction. There's almost no heat though. They all know that it’s too late to cut Neil out without surgical intervention.

“I’m great company,” Nicky says in-between kissy noises. The cat has wandered almost close enough to touch. “And I’m squandered on you.”

“When we get back to Columbia, I’m getting a hotel room,” Neil says.

“With what money?” Aaron mutters under his breath.

“The secret rolls of cash in his socks, probably,” Andrew says. Neil glares.

“Well anyway, you can’t,” Nicky says. “We’re supposed to play nice with the illustrious Foxes while we’re home, and we need to keep tabs on you.”

Neil looks surprised for a fraction of a second, but his expression settles quickly back into annoyance. “Hotels have phones.”

“The house is close to the studio,” Kevin points out. “I don’t give a fuck about what you do with your spare time, but we still have work to do.”

“And dinner. At Abby’s. The whole Palmetto family,” Nicky interjects.

“Is that—“ Neil wrestles with words for a second, coming up with dirty hands and not much else. “Normal?”

“Not really,” Nicky shrugs. “But this isn’t an average label. Wymack basically hand picked all of us. We’re kind of—“

“Don’t say misfits,” Aaron interrupts.

“Misfits,” Nicky finishes, with relish. “But he had the good sense to separate the pop from the rock and roll. We don’t exactly lead compatible lifestyles. I still think we should’ve gotten Renee, though.”

“We don't need two drummers,” Kevin says sourly.

“She plays violin too,” Andrew says. “We could have swapped out a guitar.”

“You’d sell out your own family?” Nicky says, faux hurt. Andrew gives him a blank look.

“We don’t have the right sound for violin,” Neil says. “We’d eat her alive.”

Nicky’s gotten ahold of the cat now, a smudgy grey thing, and it’s grappling up his shoulder with its claws. Andrew watches the way Nicky lets it slice him to pieces just for the feeling of something in his arms. “Yeah right,” he says. “You haven't met her.”

______

He meets her—and everyone else—a week later. Andrew starts drinking at noon just to prepare himself for the spectacle of it, the way Abby’s house will inevitably suck Neil in just like the stage did.

They’re all dishevelled when they stagger up the path to her front door, and the blinds are pulled but Andrew can see the yellow living room light and hear the roll of laughter from inside. His stomach sinks.

Neil picks his way across the grass behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders are up by his ears and his feet drag. Nicky passes a flask down the line and they each take a generous swig. Kevin raps at the door, and it swings inward almost immediately.

It’s Wymack, an over-full tumbler in his hand and sweat peppering his hairline. Andrew’s willing to bet that he was watching for them, on the outskirts of socializing, trying to keep an equilibrium between his Foxes and his Monsters.

“About time,” Wymack says. His gaze finds the flask that ended up with Neil at the back of the line. He rolls his eyes. “You all planning on being civil tonight?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Andrew asks, pushing past both Wymack and Kevin to get to the warmth of the foyer.

“Shoes off,” Abby calls from somewhere in the bustle spilling out of the kitchen.

“The liquor cabinet’s locked,” Wymack leans over to tell him surreptitiously.

“Like that’s ever stopped him,” Aaron scoffs.

“It better,” he warns. He looks at Neil again. “How you doin’, kid?” Neil nods noncommittally. “They pushing you around?”

“Trying,” Nicky says, smiling. “He won’t budge.”

“Good.” He reaches out as if to cuff his shoulder but Neil flinches away.

Andrew feels something in his chest, a sliver of rib or a ventricle wriggle away and dissolve. He pulls Neil away without thinking, just a brisk tug and a release. Wymack’s already looking away, but Nicky’s watching Andrew, mouth quirked.

“Hey,” someone calls. Matt, it turns out, tall and irritatingly affable as always, hair slicked almost vertical. He nods at the group, but beams and holds his hand out to Neil, who separates from Andrew to shake it. “Matt Boyd, guitarist for Foxes. You’re Neil, right?”

“Yeah,” Neil says. “Vocalist.”

“Man, finally,” Matt says. “I really thought they’d never find a guy. But anyone who’s survived the monsters this long has already impressed me.”

Neil shrugs keeping his eyes carefully forward. “They’re interesting.”

“Oof,” Matt says. “That’s one way to put it. No offence Nicky.”

Nicky shrugs. “Nah, I know what we are.”

“You gotta meet the girls,” Matt says, guiding Neil towards the kitchen. “Dan keeps trying to mother you and she hasn’t even met you.”

Neil looks uncomfortable, glancing back towards the band, but they’re all scattering, preoccupied with food and dishes, or talking shop with a reluctant Wymack, in Kevin’s case. Andrew moves silently with Neil, fingers numb from the booze.

The kitchen is loud, buzzing with fluorescents and conversation. Dan’s sitting on the counter, and it’s almost funny, the way her mouth hitches wickedly when she spots Neil, then deflates when she sees Andrew. Matt slips an arm around her waist, and she seems to find an emotional middle ground.

“Neil Josten,” Dan greets. “We’ve been talking about you all month.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Your choice,” she says, grinning. “I didn’t tell you what we were saying.”

“Hello Neil. Hi Andrew,” Renee says sweetly, waving.

“Renee,” he says. It’s a relief to see her. Her face is even as snow.

“By the way, I’m Dan. Wilds. I dunno if you’ve heard our stuff? I never wanna assume.”

Neil nods. “A little. You’re the lead singer?”

“Also on keys, on a good day. This is Renee Walker—she fuckin’ ruins on drums. Allison Reynolds, our badass bassist. And you met our guitarist,” she says, leaning up to press her smile into Matt’s jaw.

“‘From the Top’ is a good track,” Neil compliments stiffly. Andrew can tell from his awkward, twisting hands that it’s the only title he remembers.

They all cluck and groan, and Renee laughs, “it’s always that song. Really not our best.”

“It blows,” Dan agrees. “They play it at last call when they want to clear the place out.”

“Oh, they’re self aware,” Andrew says, quietly enough that only Neil seems to hear. His mouth twists a little meanly.

“So you sing,” Allison interjects, stepping close enough to toy with Neil’s collar, but he seems unfazed.

“Apparently.”

“In the middle of all that noise?” she asks, looking meaningfully at Andrew.

“I manage,” Neil says wryly.

“She’s just used to being the most grating thing in a room,” Andrew drawls.

Allison looks at him sharply. “So are you sober or what, monster? We going to have to lock up the knives?”

“Only if you’re stupid enough to think that I’m not carrying any.”

“Not stupid,” Dan says tiredly, “hopeful.”

“Naive,” he corrects. He’s feeling a little separate from his body. If Neil weren’t so caught up in this orbit, he’s pretty sure he could rope him into hotboxing the bathroom.

“Seriously Neil, are you juggling all of this okay?” Matt says, forehead creased like some sort of caricature of concern. Andrew was right, of course. They’ve only just met Neil and already they’re preoccupied, worried, slicing off parts of their lives to offer him. “It’s a hell of a thing to jump into all at once.”

“I’m fine,” Neil says. “I’ve jumped into much worse.”

Matt scoffs. “I guess that’s fair enough. Let us know if you need a little stability, okay?”

“I can handle myself,” Neil says, eyes flinty, and Andrew almost believes him. He keeps insisting that he’s on top of things, even when that mask of his is oozing blood and history. “But to be perfectly clear, I wanted to be a part of Ausreißer the second I heard them play, and that hasn’t changed. At all.”

Andrew chews and swallows this. His heart lifts, involuntary, and he has to go through the whole production of catching and strangling it like a bird.

“He’s one of them,” Allison says dramatically. “It’s too late.”

Dan rolls her eyes, but smiles at Neil. “That’s great, Neil. They’re a hell of a band, I won’t fight you on that.”

“For real,” Matt agrees. “If Kevin wasn’t such a raging asshole I would pretty much pay to jam with him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Doubt he would hear me from inside his own ass,” Neil says.

Matt’s smile brightens. “Love that attitude. Can we borrow him?”

“Good luck keeping hold of him,” Nicky says from behind them. “He’s slippery. Right babe?” He squeezes Neil’s cheeks and gets his hand slapped away.

“But you like ‘em slippery, right Nick?” Allison says.

“Guilty. And I’m not the only one,” he says, and Andrew sends Nicky a warning look just as he glances meaningfully in his direction. Renee looks between them curiously.

“Well,” Matt says. “I’m fucking hungry. Anyone else feel like they haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a hundred years?”

“God, yes,” Dan says. “All they ever give me to eat are salads with half a teaspoon of oil or lemon juice or whatever.”

“Vinaigrette,” Allison corrects.

“Vinai-shit. I need something so greasy that it makes me sweat.”

“Matt’s right there,” Allison says, and Matt flicks her in the neck.

They bicker amongst themselves until Abby ducks her head in to tell them it’s time to eat. “Go ahead and serve yourselves, okay? And there’s, uh, cider in the fridge. No hard stuff until you’ve all eaten.”

“Thanks mom,” Dan jokes.

“Oh, please, I might as well be,” she replies, waving her off.

“Does that make Wymack our dad?” Matt asks slyly, obviously fishing. Abby gives him an unimpressed look and bobs back out of the room without answering.

“Come on monsters, new and old. Lets pretend we can stand each other sober,” Allison says, pushing off the counter.

They filter out, and Andrew hears Nicky say, disbelieving, “you guys are sober?”

Neil lingers in the kitchen, so Andrew leans up against the doorframe and waits.

“You can go,” he says.

“Yes,” Andrew agrees.

Neil’s shoulders sag, and he covers his face with one hand. “I can’t remember the last time I—socialized.” It’s an unexpected piece of honesty, and Andrew purses his lips.

“It shows.”

Neil looks up, disbelieving. “What, do you think you’re the paragon of small talk?” He tilts his head, scrutinizing, and answers himself— “No. Too much like lying, right?”

“Ding ding ding,” Andrew says. “He misses nothing.”

“I can’t usually afford to.”

Andrew stares. Neil looks back, looking a little clammy, a little hyper-focused. “Or what? Something gives you one of those scars?”

“Did something give you scars?” Neil counters, nodding at his arms.

“Mm, no, still not a good enough trade.”

“Then I’m still waiting,” Neil says lowly, “for you to tell me what is.”

Andrew stares at a crack in the ceramic backsplash, feeling Neil’s gaze rove over his face.

He suffers through it for an entire ten-count, then turns wordlessly into the dining room. Neil follows immediately, before Andrew can catch his breath.

The room is full, the usual healthy dose of tension curdling in the joy that people like Nicky and Renee and Abby can’t seem to help spilling everywhere. Andrew sits at the head of the table, and Kevin settles at his right hand. He nudges out the seat to his left with his foot, and Neil sits in it wordlessly.

Renee bows her head in prayer. Nicky reaches for a ladle full of potatoes and Andrew yanks his hand back until Renee smiles and waves them ahead.

“So Neil,” Abby starts.

“Don’t put him on the spot too badly,” Dan says, licking sauce off of her thumb and reaching for the iced tea. “We’ve done enough of that already.”

Abby raises her hands innocently. “I was just going to ask how long he’s been singing.”

Neil appears pristinely composed, accepting everything that’s passed to him. Every expression moves across his face like it’s designed to look like a certain emotion, one mask in a series. “As long as I can remember,” he says thinly. “When I had the chance.”

“Any professional training?” Her face is mild and pleasant, and it sets Andrew’s teeth on edge.

“He’s an amateur,” Kevin answers for him.

“More of a natural talent,” Nicky says warmly, winking at Neil.

“I see,” Abby says slowly. “How did you… I mean, how did the boys find you, exactly?”

“He was trying to steal from us,” Andrew says. Neil looks at him narrowly.

Matt guffaws. “What could they possibly have had that you wanted?”

Neil shrugs with one shoulder. “Whiskey.”

Matt laughs again. Wymack rolls his eyes. “They conveniently left that part out when they were pitching him to me.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Andrew asks.

“No,” Wymack replies easily. “But I would’ve double checked my locks.”

“I’ve never stolen unless it was absolutely necessary,” Neil says woodenly.

“Right, so with the whiskey you were what? Dehydrated?” Allison says.

“Ease off, Allison,” Dan warns.

“Broke. Homeless,” Neil replies, sipping water, pretending not to notice that he’s the stone causing all the ripples of stress in the room. “But it wasn’t really worth the guitar to the stomach, in the end.”

A wince shudders around the table, and Wymack squints in Andrew’s direction.

“Wasn’t it?” Andrew asks, thinking of the way Neil’s head had eased back when he pinned him to the ground, bright interest in his slitted eyes. “We gave you your stage. You’re halfway to a household name by now.”

He says it because he knows, he can tell, what that visibility is doing to Neil. There’s always a second, before he loses himself onstage, that he scans the crowd for something, and his face is unrecognizable with fear.

Those eyes find him again. “So you want me to thank you for the smashed ribs? Should I be thanking Kevin for the bruised windpipe too?”

“Would you?” Andrew says, faux sweet.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Matt says.

“Thank you,” Neil tells him, eyes dark, almost hollow. “Really. It’s almost like being at home again.”

He stares. There are people in Baltimore who want me dead. That’s what Neil had told him about his home. He’d torn out of the van like it was filling up with water when he woke up in Annapolis.

The look on his face was unforgettable. His panic was like a corpse thrashing with electricity, like someone had tried to animate a dead thing.

He can remember staring at the little brass Spears written in cursive over the mailbox, facing the slate grey front door, never knowing whether he would open it to find a home or a nightmare. He’s since realized that they can be precisely the same thing at precisely the same time, tempting as a hearth until someone holds your hands in the fire.

“Andrew,” Renee says, coaxing his gaze away from Neil, away from the whole smouldering pile of memory and obsession. She’s smiling gently. “Do you want some gravy?”

He nods slowly. Neil’s focus is on his food now, and Dan’s talking earnestly to Wymack. Dinner trundles on.

They bring out dessert before all of the main course is cleared away, and he eats the maraschino cherries first, licking syrup off of his fingers, then dissecting graham crumbs and whipped cream from the filling. He stares down at the creased, recently frozen base, the middle breaking apart without a foundation, the off-white cream.

He splits the crust in half and reassembles the cake as a sandwich. Dan wrinkles her nose at the mess. Neil folds his cherry into his napkin distastefully. Andrew suddenly craves a cigarette more than sugar, and even more than that he needs a way to get his thoughts out.

He stands, and ignores the way everyone lets their conversations go to look up expectantly. He brushes past the table, through the living room, and out the front door.

The screen clatters behind him, and he lights up immediately, flicking ash at the porch when it withers in the wind. He thinks of Neil guessing, without trying, that small talk is a lie Andrew refuses to take part in. He hates him so viciously that he can feel it showing on his face.

He digs in his back pocket for a notepad and stubby pencil, breathing sour, woody nicotine.

pipe dream, he writes. pipe dream, pipe dream. He rips the sheet out and tears it to soggy pieces with his teeth. Then he writes:

I can always taste

salt and copper when I’m dreaming

took a pipe to my head,

but you’re the one who’s bleeding

breaking crime scene tape

to open the front door

invisible monsters

no one fights anymore

lying like a mouth on fire

we’ll go up in smoke if we get any higher

Salt and copper cocktails

rim the glasses red

better off dying than already dead

drink yourself home, the sting might kill you

pare back your skin, make it grow back new

just because you set my bones, doesn’t mean you own them

it’s never flower bouquets, always fists full of stems

you’ll have to kill me

if you cut me from this ground.

He puts the notepad upside down on the top step and grinds his boot into its spine. Then he paces down the front path and crouches in the grass, and when he puts his cigarette out in the frost, the fresh, cold air makes his chest seize.

He looks down at the ‘no’ tattooed on his hand, and he lets the word blur into a mantra in his head.

“What’s this?”

He wheels around, and finds Nicky leaning over the top step with his squashed book in his hands.

“Put it down,” Andrew says, moving quickly back up the path, watching Nicky’s eyes dart over the page and feeling his legs go rod-straight with anxiety.

“Oh, Andrew—“

“Put it down,” he repeats, “or I put you in the hospital.”

Nicky’s grip sags, and he struggles to stand upright. “You can’t just—are you honestly going to pretend this isn’t about him?”

He doesn’t reply, but he swipes for the book hard enough that he raises a pale line on the back of Nicky’s hand. He throws it to the side, out towards his parked car, and takes Nicky to the front door with a forearm braced at his throat.

“Fuck, Andrew, you can’t be serious,” he struggles to say.

Andrew starts to shake, rage and fear rising in him at once, twin tides.

“You’re writing songs about him?”

“I wrote lyrics for our new vocalist,” Andrew snaps, “because you requested it.”

“Not for him. About him,” Nicky says, a veil of sadness over his whole face. Andrew shakes him. “But Andrew, I don’t think he’s—“

“I don’t care,” he grits.

Nicky looks uneasy. “I think you do.”

“I didn’t ask for an opinion.” He hammers the flat of his wrist into Nicky’s neck, somewhere between a shove and a blow, then lets him go all at once. He sags into the doorframe, apparently more stunned than hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky wheezes, and Andrew knows he’s not talking about the unsolicited advice or invaded privacy.

Neil’s face appears at the hall window, reacting to the noise of a scuffle before anyone else. His expression is difficult to parse, poised like a pen and furrowed like paper.

Andrew climbs down from the porch, gets into his car, and drives away.

#has anyone ever been as absolutely fucked as andrew lmao #the foxhole court #tfc fanfic #andreil #aftg #rockband au #mine #abuse mention #drugs tw #alcohol tw #Anonymous #ask

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idiosinkrasies · 5 years

Text

Absolutely Smitten

"Why'd you make me come to this? I thought you loved me?" I complained to my friend, Chris, who had burst into my apartment and forced me to get dressed to come to a "concert" with his boyfriend. I had told him no, but he was insistent.

"I do, and that's why I wasn't going to let you be alone on a Saturday night."

"But you know how much I hate being the third wheel." He rolled his eyes at that.

"You're not being the third wheel, you're just hanging out with your only friends."

"Hey I have my theatre friends." I point out.

"Ok, your only close friends."

I let out a humph and we continue to walk from James's car to the venue the band was playing. It was smaller than most places but it was big enough to hold over 1500 people at a sold out show. And the show had sold out. The band was called Ex-Mormons and consisted of Nabulungi Hatimbi as the lead vocalist and lead guitarist, Arnold Cunningham as the drummer, Kevin Price as the bassist and backup vocals, and Kevin's brother, Jack Price, on the keyboard.

Now, Connor had heard nothing of them, but Chris was obsessed with them, so he got the tickets the moment they came out (He tried to get backstage passes but they weren't available) and now he was practically running, hand-in-hand with James to the venue and pulling Connor along by his sleeve.

When they got there, the place already had a decent amount of people in it, so the trio was closer to the front, but not right up front.

"I can't believe I'm actually gonna see Ex-Mormons live!" Chris said, while bouncing up and down.

"I know you're excited babe," James laughed at his boyfriends childish demeanor "but we have to wait another 25 minutes til they're on."

Chris frowned but was patient enough to wait for the rest of the crowd to fill in. After about 20 minutes the place was filled and the band was about to enter. When they did it was like a sensory overload to Connor and he didn't really remember it afterwards.

Far into the concert Connor got separated from Chris and James by people moving around and pushing him and soon he found himself at the very front of the venue and his eyes landed on the bassist, Kevin, he remembered from what Chris had told him. He was entranced by his focused face and precise hands playing each note perfectly. His brown hair flopping in front of his eyes of the same color.

Then the brunet looked up as he stopped playing and met Connor's eyes. For a few moments it seems like they're the only two people in the universe. Then the man smirked at Connor and his face flourished into a bright red color as the band moved onto the next song and Kevin went back to playing his bass.

For the rest of the night Connor couldn't get Kevin out of his head, but he was sure that he'd never get to see him again.

*3rd POV still but like with kevin after the show*

Kevin walked off the stage and immediately face-planted into the couch and groaned.

"What's up with you?" Jack asked, flicking his brothers head.

"I'm in love." Kevin said looking up at his band mates.

"Ok that's got to be an exaggeration, how were you not in love before the show and in love after?" Naba pointed out his bs.

"Ok ok, I saw this really cute guy in the audience and well he's my one true love."

"I knew I saw you staring at someone or something at one point. What does he look like." Arnold poked his friends face, until Kevin swatted his hand away.

"Perfect." Kevin said thinking back to the mystery man.

"Elaborate." Naba said, plainly.

"He has red hair and lots of freckles on his pale skin and blue eyes and, from what I could see, a perfect body." He wasn't going to mention what he wanted to do to that body. (I'm sorry but that sounds slightly murderer-ish kevin)

"Man, he seems like a catch," Kevin nodded at Jacks comment "too bad you'll never see him again." Naba hit his arm to shut him up and let their friend/brother have his dream. Kevin just groaned and shoved his face back into the pillow he was holding and let out a muffled sound. Arnold moved to comfort him.

"It's ok, best friend, there's still a chance you'll see him again,and if not then there's more people for you to fall in love with at firs sight." He said while patting Kevin's back. Kevin just groaned in response.

*back to connors POV we'll you know what i mean*

Connor had just finished preforming a play he was in at a local theater and was in his dressing room. As he was changing he let his mind drift and it drifted back to the bassist who had played a few nights prior. He shook the thoughts of Kevin from his head, saying that he'll never see him again and he probably didn't even like him.

After changing he said his goodbyes to his cast mates and off he went. When he was walking to the door he spotted someone outside the door waiting for something or someone. As Connor moved closer he realized that it was the bassist, Kevin, standing and looking around, trying to spot someone.

Connor walked out the doors and his eyes met the brunets as Kevin turned. Connor saw him smile and walk over to him.

"I saw you in the play, you were really good." He told Connor. "I think I also saw you at one of my concerts, what a coincidence."

"Yeah, we did make eye contact, but I thought that I wouldn't get a chance to see you again." Connor said, pushing some hair out of his eyes as he was suddenly aware of what he must look like.

"Well here I am," Connor giggled and Kevin thought he might have a heart attack "You're Connor, right? It was on the cast list."

"Yeah, that's me, Kevin?"

"Yep!"

"Well it was very nice meeting you, Kevin, but I have to get going-" Connor was interrupted.

"Wait, I wanted to ask you, even though we kind of just met, do you wanna go out for dinner tonight? It's my last day here before we all head off to another show." Kevin said. Connor was stunned. Did this handsome man, who he had been crushing on slightly, just ask him out. He felt his head begin to nod.

"Yeah, sure, that sounds great." He said, sounding shocked because he honestly still was.

"Great, here's my number, text me went you can and we can make a plan." Kevin said handing Connor a paper with a phone number on it before leaning down and kissing Connor on the cheek. "Later!" He called as he made his way to his car. Connor stood there for a moment, processing what just happened. When he did his face went red and he looked at the number in his hand.

Good seeing you again xo

xxx-xxx-xxxx

-Kevin P.

*time skip*

"And how long have you been dating the bassist for Ex-Mormons?" The host asked me on the talk show I was on. It has been years since Kevin and I met and started dating and both of us have gotten more recognition. I've been on Broadway as a supporting role and I've been in multiple big movies as both supporting characters and mains. Ex-Mormons has grown in fan base and has be placed on top charts all around the world.

"It's been about 7 years I'd say." I replied and the audience cheered.

"Wow, you two must really like each other to be able to tolerate each other that long." The host joked, we all laughed.

"Yeah well, I'd hope so."

"Well, Connor, we have a bit of a surprise here for you tonight. Everyone, please welcome, Kevin Price from Ex-Mormons!" A spot light came on over Kevin. I gasped because I hadn't seen him in a few months due to him touring and me filming. He had a ukulele and was sitting on a stool. He began to play a song.

He knows this feeling all to well

He feels his heart begin to swell

Handsome stranger,

You've made his insides turn to jelly

He wants to dance around the room

Kiss you until your lips turn blue

But handsome you've made him wonder

Is he pretty?

But it's too late

He believes in fate

He's absolutely smitten

He'll never let you go

As Kevin sang, Connor realized how much the song reminded him of how he and his boyfriend first met. Kevin stood up and walked over to where Connor sat and pulled him to stand before pulling him to the stool and sitting him down. Connor just stared up at the man singing in awe of his voice and the words flooding his senses.

That boy just there yes he's the one

With cupid's arrow in his bum

Handsome stranger you have made him happy

The first in a long time!

Did you just whisper in his ear

Words he only dreamed to hear?

Pretty fella, look at how he's smiling

I think he likes you!

The more he sang, the more Connor smiled, remembering how kevin smiled at him at his concert.

But it's too late

You believe in fate

You're absolutely smitten

You'll never let her go

But it's too late

I believe in fate!

I'm absolutely smitten,

I'll never let you go

He ended the song and the room erupted in applause. When everyone calmed down Kevin stood in front of Connor.

"Connor, I've know you for 7 years of my life and those 7 years have been the best," He started, looking deep into his lovers eyes "we saw each other in the best of time and helped each other out of the worst." Connor thought back to telling both of their famalies about their relationship and how badly that went, luckily they both each other and their siblings. Connor was overcome by a wave of happiness as Kevin continued talking, remembering just how much he loves the other man.

"When I first saw you in the crowd of that concert I said I was in love with you. Now, at the time, it was a bit of an exaggeration but now i can happily say that it's not. I believe that we were meant to be together, we met at my concert and then again at your show, so it must have been fate. Which is why, Connor McKinley," he got down on one knee and pulled out a black velvet box, Connor's hand shot to his mouth "would you do me the honor of spending the rest of my life you, will you marry me?" He finally got out, opening the box to reveal a beautiful silver ring with Connor's rose quartz in the middle.

Tears of joy were coming out of both men's eyes as Connor nodded frantically repeatedly saying the word "yes". Kevin stood up and hugged Connor and the moved to kiss him as the room cheered for the happy couple. The two pulled away and Kevin slipped the ring onto the redheads ring finger and pulled him in for another kiss, this time Connors left hand came up to rest on Kevin's face, letting him feel the cool ring on his finger.

The wedding was beautiful and everyone was happy. Kevin and Connor adopted a little girl and they continued to prosper in their careers, allowing them to live wealthily with their small, but close and loving family, loving every minute of the rest of their lives.

#mcpriceley #book of mormon #elder price #kevin price #elder mckinley #connor mckinley #elder poptarts #the book of mormon #fanfic #au #ship #band au #elder church #arnold cunningham #elder cunningham #nabalungi #jack price

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bbyiknowplaces · 5 years

Text

Lover Dissertation.

Written while listening to the entirety of LOVER. @taylorswift @taylornation

(Lover by Taylor Swift. August 22nd 9PM)

I FORGOT YOU EXISTED - A bop. A real bop. This beat. I LOVE IT. HOLY. “IT ISN’T LOVE IT ISN’T HATE IT’S JUST INDIFFERENCE.” AND IT WAS SO NIIIIIIIICE. Holy crap this is literally so catchy and “SO YEAH.”

CRUEL SUMMER – TAKE ME NOW. WHAT DOESN’T KILL ME MAKES ME WANT YOU MORE. UNBREAKABLE HEAVEN. ALL THE EASTER EGGS. Okay, Cruel Summer is a bop and it’s going to kill radio. I DON’T WANNA KEEP SECRETS JUST TO KEEP YOU. I LOVE YOU AIN’T THAT THE WORST THING YOU EVER HEARD.

LOVER – Oh, just hand me a box of tissues and throw me someone to dance with. Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? FOREVER AND EVER? RIP ME.

THE MAN - I would be complex, I would be cool. Her vocals. Okay. Holy crap. BOSS LADY. Really though the vocals are SO GOOD. CRAP. IF I SWORE I WOULD SWEAR RIGHT NOW. WHAT I WAS WEARING?? Also a bop. This beat. Is this Jack too? I have to go check.

THE ARCHER- Just shoot me in the heart already. Dark side, I search for your dark side, but what if I’m all right, right, right, right, here? Oh man, if I was at a secret session it would have been almost worthless because I would have almost no recollection of these songs after one play. Seriously. This is free though time because I know every word of The Archer. I SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME I SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME. It’s taking like ten minutes to download the album to my computer because it’s a big file even though it’s a zip. 18 tracks, baby. Okay, here we go. Continuing.

I THINK HE KNOWS – SNAP. SNAP. SNAP. SNAP. This rap. THIS BEAT. SHE IS SO IN LOVE. I WANNA SEE WHAT’S UNDER THAT ATTITUDE. He better lock it down or I will never stay, hahahaha! BOY I UNDERSTAND. So where we gonna go? Dang.

MISS AMERICANA & THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE – Ooh, eerie. Ripped up my prom dress. I love this sound. NO CAMERAS CATCH MY PAGEANT SMILE. IT’S YOU AND ME. YOU PLAY STUPID GAMES YOU WIN STUPID PRIZES. Voted most likely to run away with you. HEART EYES. You are the only one who seems to care. THE DAMSELS ARE DEPRESSED. NO CAMERAS CATCH MY MUFFLED CRIES. CRYING. (O-KAY!) I love the shouts. GO FIGHT WIN. Someday we’re gonna WIN. Takes me back cause the drama FEELS LIKE HIGH SCHOOL. EYE ROLL. They whisper in the hallway, “she’s a bad, bad girl.”

PAPER RINGS – Cat and mouse for a month or two?? THIS IS ADORABLE. I LIKE SHINY THING BUT I’D MARRY YOU WITH PAPER RINGS. I HATE ACCIDENTS EXCEPT WHEN WE WENT FROM FRIENDS TO THIS. I’m with you even if it make me blue. PAINTED YOUR BROTHERS WALL BLUE. Who’s counting 1,1, 1,2,3,4??!?? In dirty dreams?? I mean true. BABY BOY. DREARY MONDAYS. I like this beat too. Sick. Honestly. I’m almost halfway through! Oh no! You’re the one I want. HEART EYES.

CORNELIA STREET – THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO DELICATE. AFTER THEY LEFT THE BAR HOLY CRAP. This production AHHHHHHHHH. I’ll never walk Cornelia Street again. This is so dreamy. LIKE DRIVING IN THE DARK WITH WINDOWS OPEN. Card sharks, playing games. SAT ON THE ROOF YOU AND I, DRINKING BEER OUT OF PLASTIC CUPS I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT. SACRED NEW BEGINNINGS. LISTEN, I HOPE I NEVER LOSE YOU. HER BREATHY VOCALS AWWWW SHHHHH. AAAA FREAKING CAR DOOR.

DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS – THIS PIANO. WHAT. I dress to kill my time. Okay, the piano is still going. What. WHO IS THIS ABOUT. IS THIS JOE? WHAT. TOM. What? CHANDELIER STILL FLICKERING. But I’ll be alright, it’s just a thousand cuts. THE SAD VIOLIN.

LONDON BOY - ON MY SCOOTER. THAT WAS SO CUTE. THAT WAS JOE. HIS VOICE. LOL. YOU KNOW I LOVE A LONDON BOY. CAMDEN. DARLING I FANCY YOU. WHY DID MY ANCESTORS MOVE TO AMERICA, I COULD HAVE BEEN BORN IN FREAKING ENGLAND. THE WEST END. GREY SKY. CAB RIDE. DON’T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME. HER ACCENT HAHAHA! HIS MATES. LIKE A TENNESEE STELLA MCCARTNEY. So I guess all the rumors are true? WINK.

SOON YOU’LL GET BETTER – Oh, I love a guitar. I didn’t tell you I was scared. Desparate people find faith. THE HARMONIES. JUST LIKE I IMAGINED THEM. EVEN BETTER. CAUSE YOU HAVE TO. What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? Just so sad. I just.

FALSE GOD – Saxophone yes. I don’t know anything about this one. I can’t talk to you like this. I still do it for you, babe. HOLY MORE SAXOPHONE. YES. TAYLOR YES. We’d still worship this love. I know heaven’s a thing, I go there when you touch me. Hell is when I fight with you. THE ALTER IS MY HIPS I MEAN. Well, that was sexy.

YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN – A REAL FREAKING BOP. It’s better with headphones. The reverb. It sounds different when put with the entire album. Seriously, though it sounds different. I can’t wait to hear the secret session audio tomorrow and put all these songs into their stories cause I’m not that great at it and even if I were great at it, Taylor has all the details and context to really paint the actual picture she’s trying to get across.

AFTERGLOW – Okay. Okay. Put you in jail for something you didn’t do. SHE’S SO GROWN. WHY’D I HAVE TO BREAK WHAT I LOVE SO MUCH. HEY IT’S ALL ME AND MY HEAD. I’M THE ONE WHO BURNED THIS DOWN. BUT IT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT. I DON’T WANNA LOSE THIS WITH YOU. MEET ME IN THE AFTERGLOW. Low, blue, ways she describes him. PUNISHED YOU WITH SILENCE. It’s all me, in my head. It’s all me. I promise to be over dramatic. J JUST DON’T GO. Tell me that we’ll be just fine even when I lose my mind. Okay, Joe has been through a lot and Taylor has been through a lot and a relationship is so much give and take and highs and lows but holding onto each other through the whole thing and WANTING TO HOLD ONTO EACH OTHER is what makes it real.

ME! – The ORIGINAL. THE EASTER EGG MASTERPIECE. FREAK. LET’S DO THIS. MEET ME IN THE AFTERGLOW. Wow, that’s gonna be stuck in my head for a while. Me takes on a bigger meaning after hearing the rest of the album and I like that it’s at the end to tie things up that there’s only one of you and me and NOBODY’S GONNA LOVE YOU LIK ME.

IT’S NICE TO HAVE FRIEND – Vocals. Choir. Oh. STEEL DRUM. WHAT. Taylor walking to school carrying coffee. Steel drums though. You been stressed out lately, me too. THE TRUMPET. UH, BELLS. UKULELE. CHURCH BELLS. FEELS LIKE HOME. STAY IN BED ALL WEEKEND. CAUSE THEY’RE BEST FRIENDS AND LOVERS. COLBIE CAILAT.

DAYLIGHT – SO DREAMY. EVERYONE LOOKED WORSE IN THE LIGHT. I’ll tell you the truth but never goodbye. I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. THIS IS SO CUTE. SHE’S FOUND. IT. SHE SEES DAYLIGHT. CLEARING THE AIR I BREATHED IN THE SMOKE. RAN WITH THE WOLVES. CLOAKS AND DAGGERS. THIS BASS. YES. I COULD NEVER LOOK AWAY. OMG IMAGINE THIS AT THE END OF TOUR. AND NOW I’M WIDE AWAKE. DAYLIGHT DAYLIGHT DAYLIGHT DAYLIGHT REPEAT FOREVER. BRIDGE. TAKE ME. TAKE ME AWAY. AND I CAN STILL SEE IT ALL IN MY HEAD. BURNING RED. IT’S BURNING RED. OH CRAP. OH CRAP. SHE DID. SHE DID!!!!!!!!!!!! IT’S ONLY HALFWAY OVER WHAT THE FREAK. I ONLY SEE DAYLGHT. ALL THE BACKGROUND VOCALS COMING TOGETHER. THE PIANO, IMAGINE HEARING THIS ON THE PIANO ON TOUR. STEP INTO THE FREAKING DAYLIGHT AND LET IT GO. LET IT GO. THERE’S STILL 45 MORE SECONDS. AUDIO. YOU ARE WHAT YOU LOVE AND I LOVE YOU, TAYLOR. NO DON’T LET IT BE OVER. I HAVE TO LISTEN TO IT AGAIN. DON’T LET IT STOP.

Wow. It’s really over. There’s so MUCH, FREAKING SO MUCH. Oh, man I just love it so much. The honesty, the love, the reflections of relationships and things done wrong and things done right. It really is a new beginning. I want this feeling of being complete and whole and loved no matter WHAT to never end. Because you both deserve it.

#I love it so much #I can't wait for tour and everything else that's coming #It's flawless

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onestowatch · 5 years

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Ady Suleiman Turned His Voice Memos into Brilliant Neo-Soul ‘Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1’ Mixtape [Q&A]

While some musicians scribble lyrics that appear to be chicken scratch on restaurant napkins, neo-soul crooner Ady Suleiman instead makes use of his phone’s trusty Voice Memos feature to brainstorm his song ideas. Half Tanzanian and half English, Suleiman is inspired by a plethora of musical eras, spanning from 60s rock to modern day rap. If soulful melodies are your cup of tea, then the Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 mixtape is your invitation to Suleiman’s tasty world of custard cream biscuits.

Recorded in Stockholm, Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 showcases Suleiman’s innovative spirit as he experiments with more personal lyricism and electric instrumentation. Opening with muffled audio in “You Make It Better,” Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 immediately sees Suleiman professing his romantic feelings for someone above the smooth guitar licks. “Been Thru” continues with this genuine honesty as Suleiman assures that he’s desperate to learn all about this person’s interests, dislikes, habits, and everything else in between. The crushing beat in “Weed Guna” is balanced by Suleiman’s raw vocals in “Voice Note 1,” a 35-second interlude that draws a stark contrast between the many soundscapes heard in Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1.

“Strange Roses,” the leading single of Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1, is a heartfelt love ballad featuring a beautiful piano and light percussion, joined by Suleiman’s undeniably charismatic vocals. With endearing lyrics, “Best Friends” is Suleiman’s dedication to a special someone as he explains that it doesn’t matter what they’re doing as long as they’re together. “Something To Say” flows with Suleiman’s melodic goodness, which is accompanied by rapper Frankie Stew’s dynamic verse. Thoughts & Memories Vol. 1 closes with “Outro,” an instrumental-driven track layered with Suleiman’s neat backing vocals as the mixtape ends with hushed synths.

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On Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1, Ady Suleiman reflected,

“‘Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1’ started because I didn’t want to go straight into a full album. I wanted a bit of time to be more creative and more experimental. I wanted to make a project that was a bit more free. We moved from acoustic to electric, the guys put their flavors on, and took it to a better space. I liked putting down the first things I thought of and those usually became the song. I love the vibes and interludes; that’s how I started thinking of this project, a vibes project. I wanted to do something that was really free and ‘Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1’ is the result.”

Croon along to Ady Suleiman’s exquisite Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 mixtape below:

To celebrate his incredible Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 mixtape, we chatted with Ady Suleiman about the new music, his ongoing UK/EU tour, and his current Ones To Watch.

OTW: How did you first get into music? When did you know that you wanted to pursue music?

Suleiman: When I was 13 is when I really got into music. I fell in love with electric guitar and Jimi Hendrix and the whole 60s culture, really. I didn’t start singing ‘til a bit later not long after, but I started on guitar because I was too shy to sing. But people around me encouraged me and when I was much older--17 maybe--Amy Winehouse sealed the deal for me. She made me want to sing properly. I started my career as a solo act when I was 19.

OTW: At what point did you decide voice memos on your phone would become Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1?

Suleiman: I mean, that was always the concept, which I have had for a while. I used a couple of voice notes on my first album, Memories (LP 2018), and they worked really well as interludes so I wanted to do more and make an interlude-y, vibey project. And that’s how Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 started. So the original idea came when I was making my debut, but I didn’t find time to create it ‘til afterwards.

OTW: What’s your reasoning behind making Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 a mixtape instead of an album? Why didn’t you want to jump into making another full-length album after Memories?

Suleiman: Making a full-length album hurts my head. Like, it’s a lot of thought and a long process, and I had just been in one for like three or four years, so I wanted to make something free where I didn’t care so much about perfecting and I will continue to make music in this manner. When I came out of my first album, I just wanted to breathe and not jump into another cycle like that. So Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 is my sigh a breath and break project. I am now ready to make a full-length album, but I wouldn’t have been without Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1. I really love Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 and how it’s ended up and grateful for what it’s done for my headspace and creativity.

OTW: In what ways is Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 a “free” project?

Suleiman: It’s free because it’s not too thought out; it’s very lucid and honest in its concepts and the way it’s created was free. There were no guidelines. Whatever was created in the time I gave to it is what’s on this project. The lyrics are essentially freestyles with a couple of tweaks, obviously, because I’m not Eminem but melodies and everything were very immediate. And concepts... I didn’t stew for hours and hours; I let them be free and what it is. It was also quite a collaborative project for me working with lots of different producers and ideas not always starting from me and my guitar.

OTW: Describe Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 in one word.

Suleiman: Chill.

OTW: “Strange Roses,” a celebrated single off the upcoming mixtape, perfectly showcases your stunning vocals and heartwarming honesty in your lyricism. Can you explain what this song means to you?

Suleiman: I mean, yeah. What can I say? It really describes a very specific part in my life and relationship. And not a moment I am fond of--to be honest. But it also shows and represents a different side of my artist self. It’s a lot more organic and live. And really that’s the shit I love and how I started with live music and instruments so it’s special to me in that way because sonically it presents something different for me.

OTW: Do you have a favorite track on Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1? Which track was the most difficult to write?

Suleiman: “Best Friend” was probably the hardest but the easiest. Like, I don’t know if I got it right but hey, this is Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1. Let it be what it is at that time, but lyrically I could’ve done more. But I just didn’t want to. Maybe a later day, I will do something. Production-wise, “Been Thru” was the most difficult to finesse and still, [there are] things I would change. But again, sometimes perfecting isn’t a true reflection of your art and this is Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1. So I left these songs and I love them for what they are.

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OTW: What was it like working with Rosie Matheson on the Thoughts & Moments Vol. 1 artwork?

Suleiman: She is such a dear friend of mine. Like family, really, so it was a pleasure and she really helped bring the campaign aesthetic together. But yeah, it was easy. Doesn’t feel like work. We just chatted like normal and shit got done. It was maybe more work for her, haha. Easy and stress-free for me. She is an amazing superstar in the making.

OTW: How’s your tour around the UK/EU going? Can you share any memorable show experiences with us?

Suleiman: It’s going really well. I think the best performances we have done. The rooms are always filled with so much love. My audiences are amazing people… Very chill on a loved up vibe so it’s a pleasure. Memorable experiences? Hmmm… I mean, it’s not a good one, but my bassist went to the toilet mid-set and I didn’t realize. I was like, “Wait. Where the hell has all the bass gone?” Turned around [and] he wasn’t there. I thought he maybe pulled a whitey or something but he just forgot to go to the toilet at the time. I was pissed (no pun intended), but we look back and laugh now. You gotta go when you gotta go. He had been the butt of a lot of jokes though. Now because of it, we have to make sure he has gone to the toilet before we go on.

OTW: Who are your current Ones To Watch?

Suleiman: Mahalia. I smile so much when I think of her come up. Really proud of the artist she is becoming and the music she is making. I’ve known her for a minute. Kofi Stone is another. He’s going to do great things and make some incredible music. Look out for him. Mathilda Homer - she supported me on this tour and she is a babe. Really nice vibe, beautiful tone to her voice. Also James Vickery, Sam Tompkins, and Tiana Major9. There are very talented people coming through and it’s great! Excited for music and music fans. Loads more I haven’t mentioned, but I’ll let you discover them. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

#thoughts & moments vol. 1 #ady suleiman #soul #r&b #album reviews #interview

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imaginesofeverykind · 7 years

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Unbreakable || Sam Drake x Reader || College AU

Characters: Sam Drake x Fem!Reader //College AU// Ft Harry Flynn & Chloe Frazer

Fandom: Uncharted

Request: Yas! So I decided to add three requests together because of the similarities between them so here they are! \1\ [ Could you do a sam Drake x reader where they have broke up and now they attend a party at Nate's but you know, same is with another girl and the the reader’s so jealous but in the end they get back together! Or if you want it could be tbe reader who is with someone else and Sam's jealous ! Or the both of them why not ! Hahah Enjoy] \2\ [Hi :D Okay so, I really like your writing and I was wondering if I could request a jealous Sammy fic but with all the fluff bc we all need more fluff in our lives (am I right?) Tysm you super cool person :D <3] \3\ [Sam Drake x reader where Sam and the reader used to be together but now the reader’s coming at the party with someone else but in fact, they still love eachother and will come to term]

Prompt: A month after a nasty break up between You and Sam, the both of you cross paths again at a party hosted by Nate and Elena -who always host the wildest parties- but this time both of you have brought dates.

Tags: @rafeadderall @missdictatorme @dragonjedihobbit @shararogers @solarsystemus @roses-are-bae

Word Count: 1,859

A/N: Yeah sorry I’ve been hella inactive but I literally just slammed through all these requests just for you guys bc bless I love you all so much! <3 Also yeah college AU seemed incredibly fitting given the atmosphere I was trying to create! Um yes, also Harry Flynn deadset looks/acts a bit like Sam, like obviously not but like the slicked back hair, flirty as fuck™ and has that nice deep voice. brb, I'm crying. also, Sam’s kinda a dick in this? soz

The music pounded loudly, you were almost certain it caused imminent damage to your ears and felt as though it liquefied your lungs as the bass heavy song rattled your chest. You gripped a hand in your own, turning back to face the very person you dragged along with you to one of the biggest and best college parties of the year.

He smirked at you, the scar over his lip glinted ever so slightly under the neon lights and his slicked back hair was always a reminder of who still had your heart. Oh, you wished the guy you yanked through the sea of people was Sam Drake, but unfortunately, it wasn’t him. But it was a friend of his, Harry Flynn, who had been more than happy to jump in and volunteer as a shoulder to cry on.

That was only given that he wanted to get into your pants, which in a way worked. Benefiting him to an extent, and managed to keep you preoccupied from the hole in your heart that Sam left after he broke things off with you. It was devastating for you, out of nowhere he all of a sudden ended things.

It was a messy breakup, names were said, things were said that you didn’t mean and he didn’t mean. You never truly figured out why he broke up with you, but you had a fairly good idea.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, there you saw him. A beer in one hand talking to his younger brother while the other hung loosely over a woman's shoulder. ‘That woman’ was Chloe Frazer to be exact. It had been a while since you saw him this close, and it pained you to see him enjoying himself because you certainly hadn’t enjoyed the last month single, even if you were screwing Harry on occasion.

No one made you smile like that tall idiot did, his goofy personality and dumb jokes always put a grin on your face even if you didn’t feel like smiling. The first week was the easiest you coped after he broke it off with you because it hadn’t fully registered with you just yet. The second week was a little harder, you moped, but at least Harry offered some emotional support -if you could call pity fucking emotional support-.

The third week so far was the hardest, your brain was raking at anything to justify his decision to break things off with you. You even tried blaming yourself, that maybe you were too clingy, too needy and annoying. But that was the catch. You did nothing wrong, you were a good girlfriend to him. Loyal, trustworthy and loving.

Sadly, the truth was that while you might have been those things to him he, unfortunately, wasn’t any of those to you. Sam was a good guy...at times... You saw that. You saw past his flaws and you saw how good he was on the inside and how kind he was to the people he cared about. Sam could never look past his own flaws.

Insecurity is what made him end it with you.

You, of course, don’t know that at the very moment you both lock eyes across the room full of dancing drunk frat boys and sorority girls. The thing about Sam was, he was good a reading people. Ridiculously good at reading people, and his heart ached when his eyes met yours. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the pain in your face. He even noticed the subtle frown on your face, the way the corners of your mouth turned downward.

Sam was aware of the mistake he made the moment you left him after he broke it off. You, however, rip your eyes away from his and meet Harry’s. Despite how incredibly dim he appeared Harry wasn’t a complete idiot, he noticed who you were looking at and smiled kindly at you, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“hey - forget about him, all right?” He smiled, cupping your face before bringing his lips to your own. You were incredibly taken aback by the gesture, in fact, it almost brought comfort to you.

From afar Sam noticed the exchange between you and Harry, instinctively he tightened his jaw and let a displeased sigh pass his lips. He mentally reminded himself that it was him who broke it off in the first place and he had no right to get jealous. Which is correct, he had no right at all. But the more he repeated it to himself the harder he found it to resist it.

It pissed him off seeing you with someone who wasn’t him. But he was an egotistical male who would much rather do something to rile you up and get you to come to him first since he wasn’t going to own up to his mistake. Completely ignoring his brother's story, Sam bent down and gripped Chloe’s waist, planting a desperate kiss on her lips.

Nate just rolled his eyes and went off elsewhere leaving Sam and Chloe to themselves. He was the first person to call his brother an idiot for letting go of the best thing in his life, that best thing was you. Nate of course, loved his brother and was great friends with Chloe but he was less than thrilled to know the little negotiation going on between the two.

Harry held you close to him in an embrace, his fingers gliding through your hair as he swayed to the beat of the music. You pulled away from his comforting embrace and see out of the corner of your eye Sam and Chloe. “I’ll get you a drink love... you need it.” You weren’t sure where this nice side of Harry was coming from, you didn’t think it was possible for him to have a nice side.

But alas, here he was about to get you a drink to calm your nerves. “Thanks... I’ll be outside.” You smiled, wanting to get some air as the room suddenly felt stuffy upon seeing Chloe and Sam. He nodded and the two of you separated, your legs walked you to the backyard where it was mostly occupied by the resident stoners of the frat house.

Not that you minded, they were always nice quiet people. The cool breeze was nice on your skin and the muffled beats of the music made it less suffocating than when you were inside. You wanted to be alone, whether you were going to cry or not was another thing.

Seating yourself on the end of the pool, letting your feet dangle underneath the water you sighed. You were always a happy person, so kind and loving and incredibly happy overall, but Sam managed to rip that from you and now it was hard to even get a smile out of you. Elena was supportive through most of it, trying to help you pick yourself up but it just simply wasn’t working. You appreciated her kind words and gestures.

Elena was another person to call Sam and idiot, she was more vocal about her disdain toward the older Drake brother for doing this to you and made it clear on multiple occasions that she no longer liked him. You were grateful to have Elena, which you did notice you hadn’t seen her since arriving.

You hadn’t realised the tears in your eyes until one fell from your head and hit the water, making it ripple ever so slightly. Harry had made his way over to you, a beer in both his hands and he seated himself beside you, “here you go love.” You thanked him and looked over at him, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry Harry... you don’t deserve this, you deserve someone who isn’t me... I really appreciate that you helped me but you need to go off and find a hot girl who’s better suited for you.”

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, he wrapped an arm around your waist and smiled. “You’ll get over this eventually Y/N... maybe you’ll find someone else instead of that twat... I hope you realise we’re still friends, right?” You nodded a slight smile forming on your lips, “of course Harry... now go and have fun I know how much you love to party.”

Kissing your forehead he got up and left you to yourself. You didn’t mind the peace and quiet, especially when so many thoughts consumed your mind. On his way back inside Harry bumped into Sam, purposefully, shoving his shoulder hard into the older Drakes shoulder. He was alone this time, Chloe obviously elsewhere.

“Watch it, Drake,” Harry grunted, glaring at him. Sam rolled his eyes, returning a glare back to Harry. “Sorry I didn’t see you there little guy.” If there was one thing Harry hated that was when people commented on his height, that pissed him off. However, Sam was on a roll and continued, “how did it feel knowing you were screwing my left overs?”

“Great actually, knowing you weren’t getting them back anytime soon.” He retorted, folding his arms and eying Sam with a grimace. “Well that’s about to change, you stay away from her all right? She’s mine.” Sam attempted to be threatening, normally Harry would heed his words, but tonight he didn’t even flinch. He laughed dryly, “Oh! You think you can just go over to her and apologise and everything’s hunky dory, right? Well, good luck to you because you’ve fucked her over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need more beer.”

Sam glared at Harry as he disappeared into the sea of people. His gaze moving from the sweating bodies over to you sitting still at the pool’s edge. Of course, part of him was urging him to talk to you but the other part of him was too proud to do so. He fucked up. He didn’t want the world to know that.

He caught a glimpse of the tears that rolled down your cheek, swallowing his pride and walking over to you. “Hey.” His tall figure stood beside you, his voice startled you, you hadn’t heard it in so long. If you opened your mouth you knew the sobs would start so you didn’t say anything, simply you shared a glance before returning your gaze to the water.

Sighing he sat beside you, he didn’t realise how hurt you were. He had a basic idea that you were hurt but not this badly, you were always so strong willed and hardly cried at most things but this showed him how much more devastated you were. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him and he sighed, “I’m sorry...”

Those were the words you needed to hear after all this time. That he was sorry, sorry for ending things badly, sorry for not being better to you, sorry for taking you for granted. He was sorry, and no matter how sincere he was your heart still ached. But, it was a step forward for you. A step forward for the both of you.

#U4 #Uncharted #Imagines #One Shot #Sam Drake #Request #Sam Drake x Reader #AU

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richmegavideo · 5 years

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My Horrible Records Time Capsule, Subtitled: Crapsule

Cuing up "That Smell" by Lynryd Skynyrd

Related to Elements: Crate Digging, DJ, Underground

Every evening as I descended the basement stairs on my way to my nightly music-listening ritual in the man cave, I'd be forced to ask myself "What is that God-forsaken, moldy-ass smell? ...And why are the stairs squishy feeling?" I knew the answer already, but I was afraid to look and find out. I ignored it until the smell became unbearably strong and it was obvious at that point it was time to act for the health and safety of my family.

So after a little liquid bravery on a quiet Saturday morning it was time to bust out the power tools and demo some basement walls! After a little sweat and a lot of noise I found a hidden crawlspace right next to the basement steps where the smell was emulating from.

IT WAS ABSOLUTELY NASTY! As soon as I removed the paneling hiding the hell hole, the smell rushed out of there and grabbed my nose hairs. Thankfully my family was gone for the weekend and luckily I had a dust mask to help at least keep some of that death out of my lungs. Well now I did it. I just created a huge job for myself, but it was one that couldn't be avoided any longer. I knew looking at the hole what I had to do. It was time to man up and seal this place up properly. But only AFTER dealing with the mold that came courtesy of the dumbassery of the previous owner of my house. I've watched enough Holmes on Homes on TV to know it needed to be "done right the first time or not at all!" Don't worry, I'm not going to go through the entire child birth process, I'll skip right to the baby.

Removed the nasty, poured concrete, sealed with Dry Lok Paint, insulated properly!

Long story short, after a lot of work the smell was finally gone! Now I can seal this up properly and I'll know there will be no problems with moisture or moldy insulation again.

Water Tight, Air Tight, Sealed Space = Time Capsule

Before I seal this small crawlspace up behind walls for "eternity", I knew I had one chance to leave behind a permanent message for future archeologists or pissed off home-owners. Something that I can leave behind that represents my lifestyle as a human being. After pondering a while on the dilema with a few beers it hit me, "Duhhhhhh, RECORDS!!!" Records Last Forever! Well, they do if stored andor played properly, and this was now the perfect sealed-off from the elements environment. But there's no way in hell I'm going to leave behind any of my cherrished records! Even some of my crappy records can still be sold for cash, so I couldn't just throw in random crap that some people would enjoy. I had to choose the most horrible records I had. Stuff I'd have a hard time selling even if I wanted to. I had to choose records that were horrible quality pressings or massively overproduced or just terrible music. So I chose 3 records that represented all of those qualities and gifted it to the future inhabitants of my little corner of Earth.

Time Crapsule: The List! My 3 Worst Records Left Behind in No Particular Order

Relax! It's the Mexican Pressing

1. Devo ‎– Freedom Of Choice "Libertad De Eleccion" LP (Warner Bros. Records) Mexican Pressing 1981 Look, I LOVE Devo. It pained me to even THINK about dissing Devo in any way. But this pressing was not their fault and if anything it probably pissed them off more than it did me. I actually bought this record earlier this year from an online seller. It was never the best album they did but it was a Devo album I didn't yet have on wax, still sealed for only 6 dollars! What could go wrong with that deal!?! Well, I guess I didn't pay attention to the "Mexican Pressing" footnote on the product listing.

"I'm on a Mexican, (woah woah) Radio!"

"What's so bad about a Mexican pressing?" you may ask. After all, they invented the world's only perfect food, the taco, so how could they possibly screw up something as simple as pressing a record? Well apparently they didn't have the speed setting right at the pressing plant that day because this record sounds like the Chipmunks doing Devo. No lie, this thing somehow plays too fast at 33 RPM.

But hey, no problem, I have a deck with pitch control, so I'll just slide it way down and then it will sound normal right? Well it helps a little, but screw that! Any time you have to use your pitch control to make ANY record sound right you are literally bending over and taking it from the record companies. Even with the pitch adjusted the entire thing sounds hollow and without any nuances. This is probably one of the worst cases of quality control I've ever seenheard in all my years of collecting records.

So Naturally I couldn't sell this to anyone in good conscious knowing the look on their faces would be similar to the look on my face when the needle was dropped on it for the first time. I can't pass on crap to others, that's the opposite of paying it forward. Besides, Devo deserves more respect than that. So I whipped it into the hell hole! (sorry, bad pun!)

$12 from 720 records, this was unofficial as all hell, a DJ Shadow boot to boot

2. DJ Shadow ‎– March Of Death / Karmacoma 12" BOOTLEG (Mo Wax) 2005 I love DJ Shadow's music and I love Zach De La Rocha's music so the thought of hearing a collaboration between them was WAY to intriguing for me to pass up when I saw this back in 2005. I'll admit, I knew it was a boot when I bought it, but there was no other way to get that music back then, and, as it is often the case, curiosity killed the cat. This sounds like pure ass. It sounds like it was recorded from telephone and then pressed to record. There is almost ZERO bass, it is muffled, it doesn't even begin to sound good at any point. Even with my EQ highly tweeked it was not enjoyable to play on either side.

As with all bootlegs, the artists on here didn't make a penny off this sale. Shadow himself mentioned it's existence on his website and obviously if it was legit it would have gone through quality control until it sounded great... Like it does here...

The Real Deal. Buy THIS if you want to actually enjoy that song.

Once I bought the Handmade record, there was no way I was going to keep that bootleg around, and I couldn't justify passing the buck onto a fellow Shadow fan even if he or she knew what they were buying. They deserve better and the musicians deserve better. It was clear that this boot deserves permanent dark days in the hole.

3. Natalie Imbruglia ‎– Smoke (Remixes) 12" Promo (RCA) 1998

Horrendous music doesn't even begin to describe this

Why in the name of all that is unholy do I even have this?! I don't even REMOTELY LIKE Natalie Imbruglia so why is this vile record touching my other records? It's not that she's a bad musician, (well yeah, she's pretty horrific or maybe average sounding on her best days) it's that this is an overproduced sounding remix clusterfuck. The remixers didn't even attempt to use her vocal track in a respectful way, in a way that accentuated her vocals, or even left the vocals alone. These songs were all about over-effect-processing trippy-trance sounding beats and basically they were trying to make it get played at some upcoming rave.

I think I bought this on year one of my record collecting days, when I was an utter newb. I clearly didn't play it before I bought it or I would have left it in the store. I'm pretty sure I bought it because I liked some of Rae and Christians productions at the time. Yet even that remix, the only remix I bought it for, sounds abominable. There is literally nothing about this collection of corny, predictable-build filled, and utterly outdated sounding remixes that sounds even remotely tolerable. I attempted to sell it a few times and I got blank stares from the record store owners I showed it to. The last guy I brought it to said "Dude, I have like 5 of those online right now for a buck, so even if you want to donate it to me, I don't want it." I swore that would be the last time I took it home feeling embarrassed and defeated, so into the hell hole it goes with the rest of the heinous archaic black discs!

A Warning for the Future

And now the message. Time to write something that will be my legacy, something awe inspiring... I could leave a written http link to this blog, but blogs are too temporary and who knows if the Intenet won't be directly responsible for Skynet in the future.

Hmmmm....

Ah hah!!!

Sometimes I just can't leave well enough alone

Cuing up Taps

It's the moment of truth! Now it's time to permanently seal the horrible record time capsule. 2" pink foam was cut to size, but not too tight yet leaving room for expansion foam to cement it firmly into place.

Closing the coffin lid on wack records

Lastly I sealed off the capsule forever with Great Stuff expansion foam.

Using expansion foam around all 4 sides for an airtight, watertight seal

That's all folks! Nothing more to see here!

The expansion foam has now cured, the cavity is officially sealed off forever. Now I'll cover it up with drywall and hopefully the next guy won't see it until I'm dead and buried.

And on the day I die, I can do so with a small sense of fulfillment knowing this little piece of history was left behind for future generations to hopefully enjoy hating as much as I did.

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#Hip Hop

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