#jingly beep

[nicothedestroyer]

Hello!

[sepulchralblues]

CONGRATS FUZZ!!! I’m gonna send two bc I can’t help it, obviously you don’t have to do both

Andreil, Q

Thank you, darling <33

Andreil + Q (One missed call)

Okay. Look. This got so much longer than I expected it to, I kid you not this is like 1.2k and it's uh... something. It's probably not what you were expecting, and I might actually pick this up to expand on later but, for now, enjoy?

Warnings for injuries and mentions of drugging.

—

Maybe Andrew shouldn’t have given him the number. Maybe Andrew should have just left that night, without saying goodbye. Maybe it would have hurt less.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Neil was starting to hate that word the way Andrew hated ‘family’.

It was a lifeline, he knew. A lifeline in the same that a man dying of thirst, when tossed into the ocean, didn’t know if he wanted to drown or to stay thirsty.

The ghostly memories were the hardest to ignore.

They crept up on him when he was least expecting it. The shadow of an arm on the sidewalk that looked like Andrew's. A pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Caramel Cookie Dough ice cream on the grocery store shelf. When that fucking song they’d danced to barefoot in Andrew's living room played on the radio.

It wasn’t quite heartbreak. No, Neil didn’t think he had a heart left to be broken.

This felt like his very soul was being shredded to pieces in the world’s slowest meat grinder.

His lips burned with the weight of Andrew's kisses as he stumbled out of the pub and into the nearest phone booth.

Neil dropped the coin once before he fit it into the little slot. His fingers shook as he pressed down on the number keys, harder than he needed to.

There was no need to refer that worn piece of paper sitting on his mantel place. The phone number was burned into his memory from the moment Andrew had pressed the paper into his hands, standing at Neil's doorway with a broken look in his eyes.

 As per usual, he got sent to voicemail.

Neil didn’t even know what this number was for, who’s it was, if anyone ever got these messages.

It didn’t stop him from leaving dozens.

Leave a message after the beep.

“Hey.” His voice was wreaked. Neil coughed once. Cleared his throat. “It’s me. Again.”

He let his head thunk back against the dirty, stained glass of the phone booth.

“Do you remember the first time you kissed me?” His eyes fell closed as he let the memory swirl to life around him. “It was that night after Eden’s. I was wearing those stupid boots you loved, with the silver buckles that made little jingly sounds if I shook them hard enough.” A familiar, despicable pressure started to build under his eyes. “I remember thinking your hair looked really pretty that night. It fell in your eyes, and I wanted to run my hands through it.”

Neil swallowed hard and continued. “We had stepped out for a smoke break. I lit my cigarette, and you leaned in you light yours from the tip of mine. Asshole,” he let out a little, broken laugh. “But you didn’t move away. You just kept staring at me with that fucking look in your eyes.”

Even now, days and weeks and months later, Neil remembered it like it was yesterday. Remembered the glint of moonlight turning Andrew's hair silver. The way he looked, a figure made of smoke and metal, all sharp knives and sharper edges.

He remembered thinking, I've never felt safer. Remembered wondering, do I get to keep this?

The phone cut him off. Neil dug into his pocket for another coin.

“Me again.” He breathed out a slow sigh. “You tasted like fire and whiskey that night. I never quite forgot it. Then again, it’s you. I could never forget anything about you.” Even though Andrew wasn’t there with him, Neil's lips curved into a soft smile.

He was running out on phone time, but Neil wanted nothing more than to hear Andrew's breaths on the other end of the line. His heart gave a dead thump in his chest.

A lump formed at the back of his throat. “I think you were it for me, you know? And I hate you for that. I really, really hate you.”

Something wet landed on his cheek; Neil didn’t open his eyes.

The closing was the same as it always was, was the same as it had been since the first time Neil made a call to this number.

“Call me when you get this, yeah?”

Then, he added, in a tone so soft it could hardly classify as a whisper, “I miss you.”

He hung up the phone immediately.

It was pathetic. Five and a half months later, he was still here, still following the same, self-destructive routine.

His hands curled into fists at his sides even as tears dripped down his face.

Andrew had come into his life swinging a sledgehammer, shattering everything about Neil's perceptions of normal. There was no going back.

A feeling bubbled up in Neil's chest, hot and frothing. It demanded to be unleashed, a sudden desire for violence.

Without warning, Neil turned to the brick wall and slammed a fist into it.

His knuckles barked. Stinging lashes of pain clawed up his arm, but it cleared his head, just the slightest bit.

The anger hadn’t disappeared, but it receded enough for the night.

Maybe tonight he’d be able to sleep in his bed. The one he hadn’t touched since the day Andrew left, because sleeping there felt wrong without the warmth and weight of another body curled around his own.

Neil hated him. He hated him with every inch of himself.

He hated him, because no one ever get over loving Andrew Minyard.

***

Two hours later, location unknown

In the cell there was no sunlight or moonlight. No way of telling time. It could have been months or years; Andrew wouldn’t have known the difference.

Footsteps echoed on the rusted metal steps outside his door. The pattern was light, familiar.

Renee, then.

The latch made no noise as she unlocked the tiny little door through which he was sent his food. (Drugged, bitter, tasteless.)

Slim fingers poked through the opening, shadows against the bright light that entered as well.

Andrew winced. He’d spent too long cooped up in complete or near-complete darkness. He was afraid his eyesight was permanently fucked, because even the smallest spot of light gave him a piercing headache that took hours to fade.

That could also have been a side-effect of the constant, continuous torture, and the dozens of meals he’d been made to miss.

Renee tossed him something through the small opening, and whispered in harsh German, “Two minutes.”

Whatever dead, rotten thing rested in the core of Andrew's chest lifted its head the slightest bit.

Neil.

Two minutes from Renee could only ever mean Neil.

Andrew slid off the rotting slab of wood that was his bed and onto the floor. The slashes on his back screamed at him as skin split open again. The wounds had barely clotted after Riko had taken a whip to his back yesterday and flogged him until there was no skin left to break.

Still, that little phone Renee had tossed into his cell was the only reason Andrew still breathed, still fought through the assignments Riko planned for him every day.

Andrew would continue to be whipped every day for the rest of his predictably short life if it meant he’d get to hear Neil voice in this miserable place.

And if it meant Neil never found out the truth.

He tapped the screen with shaking fingers, bringing it to life. Renee had already set the brightness to the dimmest possible setting; still, the light made his eyes want to pop out of their sockets.

New Voicemails (2)

Andrew held his breath as he listened to them.

Something vital in him cracked and splintered and shattered when he heard Neil's broken laugh.

He wanted to—wanted to scream, cry, break something, when Neil said, “I really, really hate you,” because those were his words. He was the one to always toss them in Neil's face, the one to watch the smile bloom on Neil's lips.

Tears clung to his eyelashes, stung the cuts on his face when Neil whispered, “I miss you.”

Andrew whispered back, “I miss you too,” and prayed that Neil would be able to hear it.

Even he knew it was hopeless.

“I miss you so fucking much.”

—

Send me prompts for my 100 followers celebration.

[desertislandcloud]

Bishop Ivy introduced himself as an alternative-pop songwriter known for his innovative music which mixed organic instruments with digital sounds, field recordings, electronica influences, and samples.

Continuing to sharpen that sound, he now embellishes it with pop hooks, sonically adventurous production and autobiographical lyrics. Ivy’s focus on imaginative sound and sharp songcraft began in Boston, where he kicked off his career as a 14-year-old street busker on the neighbourhood sidewalks of Back Bay. Now based in Pittsburgh, where he studies music, electrical engineering and computer science, and with a number of releases under his belt, Ivy hopes to further his ability to manipulate music.

Inspired by boundary breakers like Bon Iver, Frank Ocean, James Blake, and Imogen Heap, Ivy has built his career upon attention to detail. He’s responsible for virtually every sound he creates, with his willingness to juxtapose synthesized sounds with raw, organic music being the driving force behind what he does.

His latest single “tunnel vision” explores the deep fear of letting go of a relationship as the songwriter reveals in the opening line, “Running beside the train you ride, I’ll bear cuts and scars but still clutch my arm.” He explains, “I was scared to let go of this person, even if it meant harm would come my way.” During the writing process, his relationship was the only thing occupying his mind, hence the title tunnel vision.

With an underlying melancholy tone and almost lullaby atmosphere, “tunnel vision” is a soothing and emotional release. The intro emits a dream-like feeling of being somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. Through haunting backing vocals cut out by an echoing, jingly beat, Ivy’s voice is clear, soothing and completely hypnotizing. There is also a grittier subtlety in the song that encapsulates the sadness in the track, embodying a range of soundscapes and inspiration resulting in a complex, diverse world of emotion and production. Ivy shares, “This song featured some of my new experiments in production, like recording myself banging around with some tools and turning that into the song’s percussion, and taking a train sample to use sort of as an ominous string section. That ‘beep’ throughout the entire song was from a check-out line at Target, as is revealed in the final few seconds in the song. Camera clicks also make an appearance in the chorus.”

https://instagram.com/bishopivy https://facebook.com/bishopivyofficial https://soundcloud.com/bishopivy

[strawberry-boogie]

MISSY ELLIOTT AND HER LOVE FOR AFROFUTURISTIC VISUALS

By Brooklyn White

originally published on Electric Circus

Early last year, Missy Elliott satiated our palettes with her empowering single “I’m Better”. We got well-placed jingly synths, Kill Bill sirens, and sweet harmonies around Missy’s Atlanta-inspired flows about self-empowerment. 

“I’m Better” is full of color and black dance, two major points in any Missy Elliott visual. What stood out to me the most, though, was the cosmic vibe that I got from watching the clip. I recognized that it was a consistent theme in Missy Elliott’s videos.

This theme is Afrofuturism, and it is a full-on movement in music, art, and literature. To me, it’s lightyears ahead of the Hotep wave in multiple senses, yet it’s rooted in the same unapologetic nationalism. It uses the history of Black people to advance mentally, physically and spiritually, all while entertaining. Rather than look to the past and stay there through, Afrofuturism looks to the (you guessed it) future to represent the feeling of “otherness” that has become intertwined with being Black. It takes bits from sci-fi, graphic novels, and the Space Age, to prophetically recreate the black experience.

While Missy Elliott is a standout in all aspects, she is one of many artists of the last 30 years to look to the stars for inspiration. Below are some fellow musicians aligned themselves with Afrofuturism. 

LaBelle

Parliament Funkadelic

Grace Jones

Earth, Wind & Fire

Janelle Monae

Kelis

All of the mentioned spirits gleaned from the cosmos for their looks, lyrical content, and mindsets and each added to the ever growing subculture. Afrofuturism is by no means a new concept; rather one that is frequently being reimagined to suit the creator’s purpose.

For her music videos, Missy Elliott built on the foundation of those who came before her, as well as contemporaries, to create infinite realms. Her whimsical, alternate universe is one that we’ve become comfortable with and look forward to being in. As unique as “I’m Better” is, it is one in a string of many Afrofuturistic visuals Missy Elliott has starred in over the course of her career. In honor of Missy Elliott’s latest, check out other examples of her being a space deity in her music videos.

“Sock It To Me”

Missy the Martian is decked out in her Mega Man-inspired suit and shimmery eye shadow.

“Beep Me 911” 

I’m convinced this visual was shot in a dollhouse on Mars. Peep that metallic robe.

“The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)”

It’s mandatory we include “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” because of the latex, metallics, and emphasis on blues and blacks.

“She’s A Bitch”

In “She’s A Bitch,” Missy rocks all black (literally) in a post-apocalyptic space suit. The rhinestones, hoop earrings and gloss add to the look.

“WTF (Where They From)”

This is how they do it where Missy is from. Based on her lit up get up, I’d say she’s from a place far, far away from here. Missy Alien.

Black people have long been in touch with the force that keeps us connected to the universe. We use our experiences, no matter how painful, and combine them with our otherworldly gifts to create a narrative that is so unique, so colorful, and so undeniably ours. Missy Elliott is one of the legendary Afrofuturists who has birthed some of the most innovative works in history and she deserves to be celebrated. It is her song, her dances, her videos, and her style, that reflect the truth and Black people’s true essence. I salute her for her fearlessness and flawless execution of her vision. Thank you, Missy.

[freakypumpkin]

Malec AU ‘First’ Meeting: Echo

My experimentation with Magnus loosing his memories.

An echo fades slowly, and sometimes not at all.

-+-

He came in on a Monday.

It was right after noon. Magnus could see the bankers passing by the shop’s windows on their way to a restaurant for a lunch break. He always envied them because they had the time to go out for lunch. They didn’t have to sit on the steps at the back entrance of a tea shop, trying to open the little bag of sugar for your coffee without spilling everything because you forgot to bring scissors again.

Magnus followed another group of two suits and a dress, all black, walking up the street. He imagined the clean and organized officers they were working in when they didn’t go for lunch, the rustling sound of paper, beeping of telephones, the dull sound of footsteps, especially when somebody wore heels, on a grey carpet. A hint of coffee in the air, mixed with perfume and that bowl of Thai-food, that had been left too long in the microwave.

Goosebumps broke out over Magnus’ arms.

Suddenly he was very happy about his lunch break on the steps at the back entrance of the shop. He could go through their storage, looking at the big peaks of tea, enjoying the sound of their in his head, smelling the spices, that still lingered from when they opened the packages. Magnus wondered if he still had enough tea at home to make it through the week, when the doorbell rang. It was a little silver-colored bell at the top of the doorframe, small and jingly. Magnus adored it. He had named the bell Misty, but for some reason the name hadn’t caught on with his other coworkers.

The stranger, that stepped in, wasn’t a face Magnus recognized from their few regular customers - and he would be very upset with himself if he’d happened to forget a face like that.

“Hey there,“ Magnus chimed, smiling like it was a reflex for him, when customers entered the store. He liked his job, but at the same time he couldn’t help but notice how he sometimes tended to smile at strangers on the street the same way and they would walk a bit faster past him because the were scared he’d try to sell them something.

“Hey,“ the new guy said, his smile a bit unsure and thin veil of fear covering his whole demeanor. He had his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans, kept pressing his lips into a thin line, released them, pressed them together again and it seemed like his eyes were trying to avoid Magnus without being impolite. „I’m here for … tea. Yeah, I want to get some for my family, my mother sent me.“

“Okay, then what kind of tea are you ordered to buy?“

They stared at each other for a while and the other’s thoughts seemed to be far away, as if there was so much more here and Magnus was blind to every detail.

“Green tea,“ the stranger eventually said, voice soft and his eyes falling to the counter between them. “Something with fruit for my sister and a strong black tea for my mother.“

The words sounded rehearsed. When he looked back up again, there depths in his eyes, that hadn’t been there before. His posture relaxed a bit, tension faded from the air around him. Something was lost and Magnus felt a dull pain in his chest. The stranger smiled, careful, like stretching tender skin. “I need a small package of each tea.“

Magnus felt himself nod and mumbled “Yeah, sure.“ It still took him about five more seconds to get to looking for possible options of tea. They had the wall behind the counters filled with boxes, where they stored the teas, that weren’t pre-packaged. Each box could be packaged out individually. So he did, opened one box after the other, let the stranger smell the different kinds, gave him some input on the tea leaves and where the differences lay. He tried to flirt, he really did, he always did. He liked it. He liked putting that little smile on customers’ faces, make them laugh sometimes, let them leave the shop with a little spring in their step.

But this was different.

The stranger was attractive, he was nice and respectful, patient, too. But flirting felt wrong in this situation, it felt so wrong, that Magnus felt a buzzing on his skin, whenever he would try to go for it. There was something cold between them, a professional distance, that Magnus usually only had with high officials. Not customers. Something was so wrong here and Magnus wanted to leave, he wanted the stranger to finally leave and at the same time wanted him to stay forever.

When he paid for the tea, the buzzing on Magnus skin had gotten so bad, he was ready to take a break the moment the other was out of the door. In a desperate attempt to avoid the other’s face, his eyes, his own gaze fell on the sweater the stranger was wearing. It was a nice sweater, great color choice, too.

“That’s a nice sweater,“ Magnus said before he could stop himself. His eyes were drawn back up by the sound of the sudden breath intake of this strange customer. Their eyes met and the other smiled, soft and warm and elegant.

“Thank you,“ he said. “It was a present from my boyfriend.“

Magnus nodded slowly. Of course he had one.

“Great taste,“ he whispered.

“Yeah, I think so, too.“

The buzzing faded a bit. Not everything seemed to be wrong anymore. Something had become right again and Magnus hated himself for not understanding what it was.

-+-

After leaving the shop, Alec went straight back to the hotel room. He barely noticed the other people around him, almost forgot to press the bottom to his floor in the elevator, and barely managed to open the door to his room. When the door closed behind him, he placed the bag with the tea on the small table next to the coatrack, staring at the floor of the short hallway with empty eyes. He leaned back against the door and slowly slid down to the floor. The last of his energy left his body. He was sad, but too tired to cry and it seemed overdramatic at this point anyway. He had cried enough, spent so many nights doing it. It hadn’t helped to dull the ache in his chest. No hour spent training had gotten had made things easier to bear.

He had been so angry, so sad, furious and desperate and so bloody helpless. Until today.

‚Track him down, look if he’s okay, go back.‘ That had been the plan to put an end to this, to make his peace with the fact, that Magnus’ memories had really been taken. He had been worried, had wanted nothing more than his boyfriend back.

But it was okay now, Alec had made sure of that.

Magnus had a stable job at a nice place.

He had friendly coworkers.

He was living in a town, that had legalized same sex marriage, that had a low rate of hate crimes against the LGBT+ community.

He was allowed to be out and proud like deserved it.

He had a cat waiting for him at home, a little apartment in a good neighborhood.

He was healthy and not in any debt.

And most importantly:

He didn’t recognize Alec.

Alec took a deep breath and let the back of his head hit the door behind him. There had been no need to actually go into the shop, but in the end Alec hadn’t been able to leave the country again without doing so. And maybe, just maybe there had been that little, stupidly naive hope of Magnus recognizing him. But no, of course not. Asmodeus was too powerful, too proud probably as well. He wouldn’t let his magic being broken by something as simple as that.

“You watched too many movies,“ Alec whispered to himself and closed his eyes. In his defense though, his mother had indeed told him to get tea. She probably hadn’t expected him to cross the Atlantic Ocean to get it, but that wasn’t important right now. Isabelle had promised to cover for him, so Maryse would at least not send a search party, because Alec also had turned off his phone the moment he’d stepped on the plane. He would deal with everything when got back.

Alec opened his eyes again.

“It’s okay,“ he said to himself. “It’s going to be okay. I can keep an eye on him from New York.“

The breathing came easier again. The acting in his chest lifted a bit. He might have lost Magnus as his boyfriend, as everything he had been for Alec, but he hadn’t lost Magnus. Magnus, the person, he was okay, he was doing well, and that was enough for Alec. As long as he know Magnus was fine and happy and surrounded by good people, he could was fine with loosing him.

It was okay.

A second of silence followed and then there was a knock on the door.

-+-

Magnus held open the door for the old lady. She stepped out onto the street and then turned back again with that ‘Oh, no, I forgot something‘-gesture.

“I wanted to ask, if you could tell, if I can find a church around here? I want to lighten a candle for my grandson,“ she said an apologetic smile on her lips, which Magnus always found a weird thing to do. Why apologize for posing a question like that? He nodded in understanding and stepped out on the street next to her.

“There is,“ he began and pointed down the street. “If you take that way, and at the end, turn right, you get to an opening, where you’ll find the nearest Institute.“

The woman shot him a confused look as Magnus found himself frozen in place. The almost painful buzzing on his skin returned. His heartbeat speeding up and a part of him understood, but it was so small, that his mind was reeling after all.

“Institute? Dear, I’m looking for a church.“

Magus blinked, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the direction he’d been pointing to. “Yeah,“ he whispered. “But … that’s-it’s the same.“ He shook his head to get himself to snap out of it and cleaned his throat. In an attempt to save the situation, he put on his best winning smile, looking the old lady. “I’m sorry, I mixed up the words, you’ll find the next church down there.“

“Ah, okay, thank you, young man.“ The woman waved at him as she made her way down the street.

Magnus dropped the smile and gasped for air. His heart was beating hard in his chest. There was a sound in his ear, there were colors in front of his eyes, then another pair of eyes, a smile, a voice, a buzzing in his ears. The world around him was tinged in so much brighter colors all of a sudden, sounds came sharper to his ears, the soft breeze felt different on his skin. Everything was cold and clear suddenly. His thoughts raced back to the stranger, that had bought tea before the old lady had come in. The one with the nice sweater. The one with the … there was a line on his throat, there was black on skin, a pattern, a tattoo.

“Rune,“ Magnus muttered.

And then he started running.

-+-

When Alec opened the door and saw Magnus standing in front of him, both hands pushed against the doorframe and breathing heavily, he was frozen in place.

“Magnus?“

Magnus looked up and his look in his eyes was fierce as a fire from hell.

“Alexander.“

There was anger and determination, that Alec didn’t understand and then there was nothing left, but Magnus’ lips crashing against his own and the other’s hands holding his face. One kiss was followed by second, only broken by Alec’s name whispered against his lips and Alec started kissing back. He brought his arms arms up to wrap them around Magnus’ waist as Magnus pushed him further into the hotel room until Alec’s back hit a wall. Their lips were bruised when Magnus eventually leaned his forehead against Alec’s, his thumbs tracing the line of Alec’s lower lip and Alec held him as tight as he could, breathed him in, felt the warmth of his body, telling himself not to cry quite yet.

“I’m going to kill him,“ Magnus whispered after a short silence only filled with their heavy breathing. “I’m going to fucking kill him.“

He opened his eyes and they weren’t human anymore. The illusion of round pupils and dark irises bled away, revealing piercing cat eyes, glowing strong and fierce.

“I’m going to kill my father.“ Magnus placed another, much softer kiss against Alec’s lips.

“For taking your memories?“

The hotel room was dark and empty, filled with so much screaming silence. The air felt electric, a hidden power waking up again. It was velvet on Alec’s skin because it was magic around them. A magic, that had been asleep for too long, not even aware of the chains it had been burdened with.

“No,“ Magnus growled, shadows passing across his skin. “For leaving an echo of my feelings for you.“

Alec narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but Magnus brushed his cheekbones like he had done so many times before and continued:

“He left an echo. He left enough of my feeling for you to leave me with a longing, the feeling of missing something, but not enough to work out what was wrong, what didn’t work out with potential relationships, what I was looking for. This way I would have been a lifetime supply of pain and longing and unrequited love for him to feed off - that’s what I’m going to kill him for.“

And Alec just nodded. “Okay.“ Then he closed the tiny distance between them. “But not today.“

Today he wanted to be about warmth and love and healing scars.

“Tomorrow then.“

There was a soft echo of Magnus’ special stubbornness in those words and Alec wanted to hear it grow and grow and grow.

[noniem]

Unexpected expense of having children:

The crazy amount of batteries you buy for all the jingly, singing, beeping toys your kid owns.