#not too rusty to do a quick tribute to the one and only | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-headbop-wraith · 3 years

Text

1_18 Connected Roads

It was dangerous and illegal, but this particular stretch of road was heavy with the rumors warning of the many accidents that had occurred over the course of a few decades. These tragedies were sometimes attributed to the reckless drivers, the sharp turns, and narrow roads, along with the outdated nature of the old road itself. But what narrow, silt ridden road in the mountains was not known for tragedy?

They had seen a few of the memorials assembled by family, friends – bundles of cotton flowers tattered, colors faded, Styrofoam sentries caked in mud. Tributes to the lost, forgotten, left to wither and decay. It had been years since anyone thought to renew the memories.

The deep fog and dismal rain matched the mood. Vivi wasn’t certain if the weathers activity was entirely natural, but she supposed later on the road that it must’ve been typical weather patterns for the season. When they had entered the high mountain elevation there had been a large swell of cloud cover, a huge mushroom of frothy, white rolling through the pines. In a matter of seconds a pleasant fall day had become frigid and muggy. The damp, chilled air clung to the open window of the van as Lewis took the tight turns, through the trees and down the steep sloping roads. Thick gurgles rolled out of the engine as he applied the gas, the motor rumbled and wheezed on the cold air clawing across the pipes.

Lewis knew he missed driving, but he didn’t realize just how much he had missed it. The novelty of it mostly, but there was no denying the simple freedom of getting behind the wheel of the van, taking control of the acceleration, the gentle motions of their little transportable home on the road. He didn’t have it in him to forewarn Vivi that he might’ve been a ‘little’ rusty when the subject had come up. Vivi’s idea, out of the blue (literally), after they had stopped for a late – late brunch. She brought it up with Arthur when he returned from a walk with Mystery. Lewis knew he gave Arthur an obscure look, but Arthur had misunderstood it. Typical.

Once upon a time Lewis knew how to drive the manual shift, but he didn’t know if he would remember. There was a special technique when it came to manual. The van was automatic, and the road stretched on and on after he set the drive for lower gear to make up for all the steep downgrade. The lazy speed helped draw back the memories, the motions, everything gradual. Take it slow. Let it all come back, it would if he was patient. He didn’t really forget, but it had been…. a while. Lewis avoided asking too much from Arthur as they puttered along, didn’t want Arthur lingering too close to him. Any didn’t mattered that much, but Lewis felt a smudge of aggravation that had no justifiable origin. Maybe it was just Lewis, or he just wasn’t certain why, but he didn’t want Arthur around. Near him. But Arthur had caught on quick that Lewis still needed a few small reminders in the beginning, and even once Lewis felt assured he could drive on his own, Arthur felt comfortable nesting in the front seat just in case. Lewis kept the driver’s side window open and enjoyed the fresh cold air moving over and through him.

Every few miles Vivi would indicate Lewis to stop off on a clear spot beside the road, and each of them would get out. The three collective living, but never Lewis.

The fog filled branches surrounding them had the sounds of soft rain, pattering the moist pine layered soil with globs of fat droplets. Beneath the sodden tree cover it wasn’t as obvious, as it was on the open road. Wet and damp, everything slick and cold. Vivi wore her sweater, and Arthur was stubborn. He would get out with Mystery in his arms, the two bundled up in the blanket that Arthur had taken to curl up in on the passenger seat. The two would do what they could to help Vivi assemble the prebuilt pieces of reliquary she had patched together while they were on the move.

It took no amount of time to find a suitable secluded location, and then build the little shrine where it would be hidden from the curious. The process was repeated again and again. Lewis’ unease was not missed by Vivi, but it didn’t surprise her. She had researched expulsion incantations, barrier spells, protective wards – he was not immune to their persuasion, even if he wasn’t the intended target. Vivi made mental note to be more careful in future, but for the now she kept careful attention to the ghost’s ticks.

“You would let me know, wouldn’t you?” she asked, for what must’ve been the twelfth time. Vivi had some freshly cut pine branches on one of the older blankets, as she stripped some of its needles and tied twine to hold the branches curled into a circle. The soft light of the small camp lamp offered her and Mystery plenty of visibility, as they mended and weaved. “I don’t know how much of this is affecting you, Lew. Say something if whatever I’m doing is… y’know, hurting you.”

Lewis drummed his fingers along the window sill of the door and looked out through the trees drenched with the gray mist. “Uncomfortable. That’s all,” he said. The van needed some fresh air anyway, with all the incense and resin Vivi was tearing up. “It’s nothing.” He glanced to Arthur in the passenger seat.

“It still bothers you,” she said. Vivi snipped off a bit of her hair and attached it to the base of the thick pine branch. Mystery was pawing at a cut piece of burlap cloth. Vivi noticed Mystery’s activities and watched, as the white dog raised a paw and pulled out small tufts of his own chocolate brown fur there. Vivi rolled it up and tied it to the base of the branch she was working on. “Are you even sure if it hurts or not?” Vivi posed.

Lewis chuckled. He was getting better at that, in the sense that he could make a sound other than the distorted wrong station of the radio he had been ‘projecting’. “It’s probably about the same, then. Don‘t worry yourself.”

“I’m going to,�� she said. “And you can’t stop me.” Vivi smiled at the small pink embers to flutter from Lewis’ face. “Where’s that knife?” She turns to Mystery when he plucked up the folded pocketknife from the cover and held it towards her. “Thank you.” She worked for a while, cutting the thread and winding it tightly around the branches base. “How many miles have we come?”

Lewis listened to the draw of the engine and the rattle of the undercarriage. He checked the speedometer through the steering wheel and read off the mileage, a quick calculation snapped up. “We should be getting near the bridge,” Lewis mentioned. He looked to Arthur, who had been mostly silent for their travel. Arthur mumbled something and snuggled down into his blanket. “You have enough supplies to finish?”

“I should. Now where‘d the lighter go?” Vivi fumbled around the mess, pine needles, gummy bits of branches, pieces of twine. It helped that the road had leveled out, she wasn’t worried too much about losing her balance while she was knelt. “What would I do without you?” She ruffled Mystery’s multi-streaked mane, and accepted the lighter he presented to her.

Mystery yapped. He was always glad to help with these little projects. He was pleased with how Vivi’s skill had grown since she first began, and he could take some pride in that if he wasn’t careful.

Lewis checked Arthur again, then, let his gaze snap back on the road. “Something the matter?” Arthur finally asked, without blinking, not even a glance to Lewis.

“No,” Lewis murmured. Of course Arthur was cold. The heater was on full blast, but the damn window was open and it was misting heavier in the lower elevation. “If it starts to rain, I’ll shut the window.”

Arthur cleared his throat some bit and sniffed. “Thanks for the consideration,” he mumbled. Lewis eyes glimmered as he checked Arthur, hardly hiding the action. Arthur coughed as he took a breath of the rough air, but before Arthur could say a word, Lewis’ voice cut through his thoughts.

“Take the wheel,” said the ghost. He was gone in an instant, the black leather coat Lewis had been wearing deflated and plopped onto the driver seat. Arthur gawked, blinked. The van had decelerated but they were still moving, slipping along the resent position of the steering wheel in the bend of the road.

“Fuck! Lew’ss! WHAT?!” Arthur lunged at the spinning wheel and latched on, wincing as the biting cold and wet air hit his face. “Damn— !” In the back Vivi was calling out a question, or warning, her voice was shredded by a muffled eruption. “ –S’IT!” Arthur hissed. He managed to get his eyes open and caught vision of the brilliant burst of magenta flames hissing through the fog directly beside the vans amber wall, outside. There was nothing but the crackling heat and black ash, he couldn’t accurately discern what had happened other than a small eruption that slammed into his eardrums.

“Arthur! What happened?” Vivi yelped, as the van began to sway. She felt the strong vibrations through the metal hull, the strength on par with a collision of some large physical force. “Art!” She threw her arms around Mystery when he struggled to stay in place on the short carpet of the vans floor. This didn’t aid them too much, as they were sliding on the blanket on the floor. Vivi shut her eyes as she held the poor whining dog tight in her arms, the sudden lurch of the van sent her sideways over the floor.

Arthur stuffed his good arm into the space of the steering wheels bars and took his foot off the brake, he kept his eyes locked on the road as the front wheels of the van tipped. The weight dragged them across the road as a screech tore out from the undercarriage, and burnt rubbed filled the open window. “Hold on! Hold on!” He shouts in lack of better caution, only partially focused on the black road sliding out of view. He’d lost track of Lewis, but Arthur wasn’t sure if the large burst of heat was their ghost in the first place. It was just bright. And loud. His ears were still ringing. “Just— Argh!” Arthur cursed when the van skipped sideways on the slick road and smashed the front into two large pines spaced apart.

The bench seat absorbed most of Vivi’s body when she slammed into it, still wrapped around Mystery. Mystery whined as Vivi uncoiled from him and stood up, arched over Arthur. “Say something, Art! You still with me?” Vivi reached her arm to his good shoulder and shook. Arthur jolted when she gripped his shoulder, and he twisted around in his seat to stare at her.

“He left the wheel,” Arthur chattered. “We could – I didn’t— ”

“We’re in one piece!” Vivi snapped. She was staring past Arthur, out the side of the windshield. “Stay put, I’ll see if I can find Lewis.” Arthur gave a sharp cry and tried to grab her, but Vivi had sprung over the front seat and pushed open the passenger door.

“Vi! Wait!” Arthur tried to follow, but Mystery had launched over the seat and bobbed in his way. “Mystery! Move!”

There was no sign of anything when Vivi had climbed out of the van. She gave the nearest of the area, where the fog was visible enough for her to see, a hasty scan. Her sweater and scarf had been damp for most the day, but now less than a few seconds beneath the open road void of tree cover, she was already soggy. She blinked through the gray, dreary scraps of light phasing through the cloud cover. Was that a hissing she heard? Or a rustling? It was loud, getting louder.

“Lewis!” Vivi hailed, hands cupped around her mouth. “Are you out here? What— ” She stopped and looked up, her face drained of color as she staggered backwards into the side of the van. Arthur squealed inside at the echo of her body colliding with the cold metal. “Oh god. Arthur and Mystery!” She couldn’t move, her eyes rising to the untamed river of earth crashing between the pine trunks of the glistening slope. “They’re still inside!“ She lunged for the door. They could still ride it down, it wasn’t that thick. The van would be lost, but they would survive.

Vivi winced as a wall of flames sprang between her and the ominous stampede of nature. Bright, fire swells up and heats the immediate range briefly, before it fades out, the air continues to simmer with warm steam. To Vivi’s astonishment the mudslide recoils. Recoils as if it was a sentient, mobile thing. A congregation of embers collide between Vivi and the slithering soil, the fire diminish into the outline, the shape of Lewis void of flesh and living recognition. Under the constant drizzle of rain his skull and suit sizzled, a steady stream of white mist rose from him, though none of this seemed to faze him. Around his shoulders crackling spirit flames remain buzzing as he straightens up to watch the mudslide.

“You need to get out of here,” Lewis says to her. “I surprised it, but it won’t work twice.”

“The vans stuck,” Vivi replies. “I don’t know if he can move it on his own.” She looks away from Lewis, to the winding road and the thicket of trees between them.

The grinding soil heaves back, layers and pebbles rattle over and around, swirling higher and compressing down into itself, while bits of twigs and larger rocks churn within the mass. Rocks grind and gravel grates, as a torso and stout head mold from the thick silt.

Lewis throws himself forward, spooking Vivi who had turned back to watch mesmerized when the shape began to chisel out. Flames erupt along Lewis’ coat the moment before he rams the thing in what might be its chest, or would’ve been. The earth manifestation scatters under impact, and a low grating snarl emits from the pile of mud that dispersed over the road. In less than five second the soil was already rolling and piling back onto itself, slower this time with black smoke spilling off its scorched gravel layers. Lewis kicked himself away, ember eyes track the mass as it struggled. This would buy some time he hoped.

The van lurched and coughed as Arthur toggled the drive stick and reversed, hunting for the combination of momentum to dislodge the vehicle. “Vi!” He called. Mystery was perched in the passenger seat leaning far out from the open door to watch, what he presumed was their friend(s). Arthur heard no sound from Vivi, aside for the loud crash and a violent sweep of chilled air. “Viv, could y—AH!” Arthur lurched in his seat when Lewis shot into view, skull faced and hair all riled and popping. Aside from that the fire ghost appeared unaffected by the rain, but for some steam rising off his shoulders and head. Lewis caught Arthur with a glimpse before he leaned down and pressed his shoulder to the van’s grill.

“Get it into gear!” the voice snapped. Arthur couldn’t judge if it was in his head or what, but it did reminded him keenly of the night he and Vivi stumbled into the mansion. “One, dos, tres! Reverse!”

Arthur tried not to think of that now. He swung the drive shift into reverse and floored the gas. A squealing came from the rear as the wheels spun, but found no traction on the slick ground. Mystery bobbed at the open door and snarled at something unseen by Arthur, but he was beginning to hear it. A loud rustling and clicking, hissing and slipping. The image of rocks tumbling with loose soil down a steep hill hit his mind. All the rain, the Watch for Falling Rock signs they’d seen. Arthur didn’t care if he cracked the gas pedal. He focused on Lewis’ shoulders hunched to the vans grill, and timed each pump of the accelerator as the ghost heaved at the vans grill.

Lewis had an advantage. He could press his feet into the asphalt and push, but he focused more on keeping solid and straining against the impossible mass of the van. He didn’t remember it being this stubborn, but they were on a slope and everything was slicked.

Vivi was suddenly beside him, shoulder braced to the grill and her blue shoes scraping at the white rock under them. “I told you to get back in the van,” Lewis hissed. Actually, he told her to get in the van and left her gawking at the mound of coiling mud.

“We’ll dislodge the van,” Vivi grunted. “Then I’ll get in.”

Lewis didn’t argue, he needed to concentrate. Drops of water bead at the tips of his upper jaw and drip off, his pseudo suit simmers as water mixed in his vague presence of shape. A fine whiff of fire wafts off his skull as he counts in his thoughts once more, judging when Arthur would hit the gas again. The van lurched and began to struggle back from them. Vivi groaned, teeth clenched, as she barreled forward with Lewis. She gave a breathless gasp as she turns to the tall ghost.

“There! Got it! Told you.” Vivi halt her words, as Lewis launched himself over her head and snared a large, solid shape in mid leap. Both fall sideways cutting across the solid amber hood of the van with a thud, under the clatter of metal, the same rustling tumbled through the air whenever the gray mass moved. Vivi stumbled sideways, trying to catch herself on the van but it kept backing up from the two brawling on the road. Once she caught her balance, she stood and stared as Lewis gave the shrillest cry she had ever heard him emit. Vivi knew it was Lewis, because the skull had tilt far back off the collar of his suit, while the thing upon him dug claws – she blinked – yes, they were claws, into his shoulders.

“Van!” Lewis rasped. “Get in! Go!” Magenta flashed in his eye sockets as Lewis turned his attention to the creature on him. Fire tore out of his cufflinks into the shaggy front of the creature, the locket on his chest pulsed steady, even as he struggled and screeched. “VIV!”

“Lew! You need help—” Vivi ducked back as the Gollum reared up over Lewis, a second set of arms at the base of its torso snared the collar of his suit. It was large, but its limbs were too short. It resembled something between a serpent or a goat, but lacked the definitive features of either. When it raised Lewis off the road, Lewis swung his legs up and hooked one ankle over a set of curved horns on its head and began to kick it repeatedly across its clutch of glimmering ‘eyes’.

“Help by getting,” Lewis slapped his hands over the entities forearms and flooded its gray, moist body with ravenous flames. “—Way!” Vivi stepped back when the Gollum shoved Lewis onto the soil and pressed him there, while fire stabbed across its underside. The Gollum grated, sounding as all manner of rock and soil crashing and crumbling. “Go!” Lewis gave the screaming creature another kick. It tore its arms out of Lewis’ suit, but its secondary arms still held his collar.

Vivi ran. She darts to the driver side door and reaches through the open window to pull the latch. A wave of shock slices over Arthur’s eyes, but it’s gone even before he began scooting aside for Vivi. “We’re leaving him?” Arthur spat. He’s looking through the windshield at the roads side, where Lewis is pressing back into the gray pebbled body. Mystery gives groans of concern, as Vivi puts the van into drive and tears off. The wheels screech as they gain traction, the passenger door sways but doesn’t shut. Arthur climbs over Mystery to get the door before the dog can go sailing out. Vivi was the best driver when it came to getaways.

“We’re more harm than good here,” Vivi retorts. She leans onto the windowsill on the driver side and looks back. The earth creature shrieks as unrestrained gusts of magenta and red spew skyward, embers crackle and steam keeps rising around them, obscuring the shapes within. Soon it is only silhouettes, then a wall of thick black fog. “Some sort of terraria spirit or man made Gollum. Damn, we had to be right!” She took the next curve sharply, the wheels screamed over the asphalt as she spun the steering wheel.

Arthur wrapped one arm around Mystery, and used his metal arm to hold the roof of the van. “Easy! I’d like to see my next birthday.”

“A few more miles,” Vivi said, eyes glued to the road. “There’s something about terra spirits, but I can’t remember.”

Arthur peered out of the fogged window at his side, Mystery wrapped up in his lap but watching Vivi intently. “I don’t think there’s much that can be done to him now, Vi. Y’know….”

“No,” Vivi snapped. She gave Arthur a short glimpse, then back to the road and keeping them in the proper lane. She bit her lip and tasted blood. “It’s more than that. Terra’s aren’t spirits, they were never human. God Arthur, you should read the more folktale stuff,” she sighed. She wanted to go faster, she wanted to be there now, but she also wanted to GET there. “It might just be paranoia, but I thought there was a description about them being kind of guides to the,” she choked as the words formed, and died. She couldn’t say it, no. She had to be wrong.

Arthur was staring at her. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he cries. “Nature spirits, right? Then they do… nature shit, right?”

“I don’t remember the specifics,” Vivi snarled back. There was the bridge, at the base of the mountain side. The road branched off to the next mountain range over, the bridge connecting the two. Through the dense tree cover it was difficult to make out, but Vivi had seen the dull red roof amidst the gray haze. “Knoxx Bridge! I see it.”

“Careful on the breaks, it’s really slick,” Arthur cut in. “Did you need to finish anything in the back?” He released Mystery in order to look over the seat, at the mess of pine needles and broken branches spread around.

“You can get the new candles we bought. And the Teddy bear,” Vivi answered. Arthur pulled himself into the back and she could hear tussle through the plastic bags. Mystery was about to follow, but whipped around to face the road instead, poised with one foot raised off the head rest he had intended to hope over. “Can you check if—” Vivi’s face screwed up – shock, fear, amusement, she wasn’t certain.

A large black shape hurtled across the vans front, and Vivi twisted the wheel in some direction, she couldn’t recall, and screamed, “DUCK!” Arthur gave a sorrow filled moan as the van tilt far to the side. Vivi came out of her seat (no seatbelts was very dangerous), but Mystery had twisted around and pushed Vivi down with his front paws and braced her onto the door. Vivi didn’t bump her head too hard when they smashed into the surface of the road and skid, and she didn’t get pinned in the open window either. She couldn’t decide if Arthur was sobbing because he was hurt, or due to the van making that awful racket as the side was no doubt sanded off. Mystery leaned on his paws over Vivi as the noise dug into his delicate hearing, and Vivi tried to help by cupping his ears with her hands.

The van ground to a halt. Rain pattered gently on the large exposed side and gravel pecked around in the undercarriage, the pieces of rock misplaced in all the excitement. Inside the van, items continue to shift of fall from the sideways cuvees from the wall that was now upgraded to ceiling.

“Art?” Vivi called, gently. She took her hands from Mystery’s ears and listened, the vans engine still puttered but not as intimidating or fearless as before. She gulped down cold, wet air and turned the key in the ignition, then tried to call for Arthur again. “Good news, if that’s a reasonable request.”

“Present,” the broken voice muttered. The sound of rustling and crinkling came, as Arthur climbed over the tussled wall of the van. He leaned in through beside the bench seat and looked down on Vivi. “You okay?” Vivi nodded, and Arthur let out a wheeze. “Super. Now, what the fuck, girl?”

“It hit us,” Vivi insisted, as she pushed Mystery away. But not before a firm hug around the dogs shoulders, then she returned to Arthur’s thrashed gaze. “Or something like it.” Arthur averted his eyes and stared at the interior of the van, the light mist tapped at the hull of their transportation. The back was a mess, supplies everywhere in little gray lumps, the light from the lamp had gone out. Vivi watched his sullen expression until it hit her. She griped a fist to her mouth as her breath trembled. “Lewis!” Arthur moved aside as she tumbled into the back, picking through the supplies.

“I’m – I’m sure he’s fine,” Arthur said. Mystery stayed beside him as Vivi went through, pulling up whatever was salvageable. Without further word Arthur began helping her. It was okay, she’d see.

Mystery stayed in the front seat, poised on the driver’s door (floor) as he stood watch. The bridge was only a few yards away, the heavy growth of pine branches dug at the rusted roof and walls that faded from the thickets edge. There was no sign of the Terraria or Lewis, and that greatly concerned Mystery. Shapes huddled in the fog, dark smears of vapor peering out, waiting. Mystery gave a soft bark and growled.

The pieces and parts for the memorial were up beside the upper edge of the vans wall, in a pile along the scratched roof. Viv found her backpack and loaded it with a notebook, a few charms – she knew nothing holy would work on an entity contrived of nature, not normally. “Did you find the candles?” she asked, when Arthur began rustling into something.

“Yeah.” Arthur picked up the bag and tucked back in a few of the candles that had fallen out. He also packed the twine and more branches stripped of the needles. There was Lewis’ jacket as well, tossed into the back while Arthur had been frustrated with trying to get the van dislodged from the tree. Arthur gave it a once over as he knelt in the supplies, his shoulders shook as the mist kept vibrating up and down the side of the van. “We’re ready then?” He pulled the jacket on over his head and shoved his arms out through the sleeves. The collar hung around his shoulders and Arthur tugged the torso out from his chest and grimaced. Lewis was a big guy.

“Should be,” Vivi answered, as she moved to the back door. “If not we can come back.” Before she could reach for the door handles, a loud hissing slammed into the side of the van. A strong physical force somewhere at the back, the blow caused the van to twist around and along the road, the friction sent painful screeches through the interior van. It might’ve been the van, it might’ve been the entity screaming at those within.

A pained yelp came from Mystery when he hit the side of the van. Arthur tries to recover and find Vivi in the dark. He called out to her, before a hand snared the wrist of his good arm and tugged him to the vans front where Mystery huddled.

“I’m more worried about Lewis,” Vivi spoke. She glanced back to the doors, but the assault had fallen still. For now.

Arthur brushed past her into the vans front, he braced himself to shove open the passenger door above them and wastes no time climbing up. Vivi knelt below the door and handed up her backpack, and the grocery bag of supplies they picked up earlier that day. “It’s clear,” he called, once he gave the perimeter a rushed look over. Vivi cooed to Mystery as she picked him up and passed the whining dog to Arthur. “Hang tight for a second.” The blond ducked away from the open door, leaving the drizzle to splatter the sides of the seats and the doors side.

A sudden and frightening crack came. Vivi cringed expecting the van to be struck once again but the rough collision failed, leaving her braced within confusion and agitation. Other sounds became audible beyond the walls of the van. She could pick out the grinding of rocks, loose soil scraping among tree trunks and grass. It sounded like the whole forest was moving, shifting, living. “Art!”

“Hold on! Juz….” His strained, conflicted voice came. Not far. A sharp scream came from Arthur (it was his high pitched voice), along with a whooshing and another harsh crack. The vibrations rattled through the metal walls of the van. “Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Mystery was barking, and Arthur’s voice was moving quickly beyond the walls. Arthur may have tried to make know the panic, but his voice was constantly cut off to his heavy pants. Yips and whines came from Mystery. “Vi!”

Vivi put her foot to the steering wheel and balanced her feet, then pulled herself out from the passenger door and out into the miserable, brisk air. She looked towards the sounds but didn’t see Arthur or Mystery, instead she saw Lewis perched upon the back of the earth spirit. The struggling entity had risen off the road while Lewis held onto its horns, the curved ends red with heat as he poured energy into it. For a second Vivi was relieved. Lewis was still here and he looked to be in good condition.

Until the nature entity flipped over sideways and slammed Lewis into the road under its pointed head. Flames spread all over Lewis ribs and shoulders as he grabbed at the thick neck of the entity and dragged it off, is hooved feet dragged at the road before it toppled over. Lewis rolled away when it staggered at him, reaching with the side of its two arms. Vivi heard a warning cry from Arthur, when the entity snapped its head up at her.

“Get down—” Arthur shrieked.

The Gollum faded into the mist, or most of it did. Lewis did much of the same, vaporized in a large burst of fuchsia fire fading outward. Vivi lost track of Lewis completely, while mesmerized by the sight of the Gollum at it prowled. Its gray eyes gleamed in its pebbled head and the road whizzed under its shape as it rushed at her, gaining momentum as its claws lashed over the road. She was about to dive off the side of the van when the shape collided with her body like a derailed train, she hadn’t realized it had gotten that close, it had just appeared.

“Viv!” Arthur dropped the bags he was carrying and darts to the lining of brush where Vivi tumbled through, he could still hear her body dragging through the loose undergrowth and soggy leaves. “No!” Mystery yelped after him as the dog gave chase. Before Arthur could lunge through the brush, Mystery had jumped onto his back and thrown him down into the pine coated soil. “Mystery! She’s hurt! Get—” When Arthur had shoved himself up and crawled forward, he saw what Mystery had stopped him from reaching. Why it was important he did not crash blindly into the thicket.

There was nothing beyond the growth of brush. The trees jutted out from the side, the soil worn and chipped, and below nothing. Nothing but treetops hidden in the fog far below.

Arthur felt his eyes bulge in his head as he stared down and down searching through the drab, thick mist. He snaps his gaze to the furthest side of the parallel mountain range, but there is nothing. A fierce grip took his chest as hot tears filled his eyes. “Vivi! No… god no! VI!”

Calm down and look. Mystery set his paw on Arthur’s good shoulder, then, nudged the grief-stricken youth’s cheek with his own shoulder. Mystery pushed his head under Arthur’s chin and raised his gaze, Arthur didn’t seem to notice the guidance at first, but his eyes did turn up.

“Shit,” Arthur wheezed. He folded down, nearly falling onto Mystery beside him. Mystery tried to push Arthur up and keep him out of the mud. “She’s okay…. She’s safe—”

The rapid clamor of heavy feet caught his attention, and he whirled around to see the Gollum. Arthur recoiled as it galloped for him, but Mystery lurched between him and the large mass of gravel, and snarled at it. The creature hesitates, its shoulders sway and grit as it turns its head down to view the smaller dog. Arthur stares, eyes flick from Mystery to the entity and back to the dog. The nature entity sways, as if uncertain to its approach of the dog. “Myst, we… we should move.”

Mystery backed away, red eyes gleaming over the rims of his glasses. The gravel apparition crept forward and Mystery hissed between his sharp teeth. Mystery scarcely glanced back to Arthur when the human set his metal hand on his shoulder, and Mystery averted his gaze to keep track of the tall demon fabrication. Not in front of Arthur. Not again. Mystery raised a rear foot behind him and pushed it gently to Arthur’s knee and nudged the mud soaked pants leg. Arthur pushed himself to his feet and shuffled away, while Mystery continued to back up from the Gollum. The entity, gravel demon, kept its glimmering eyes fixed on the smaller creature.

“Okay…nice and easy,” Arthur edged, eyes on the entity. “Run!” He spun around and shot off. Mystery followed in the same manner, ears pinned back and head down. A soft rustling came from their backs as the creature charged after them.

Mystery barked, his breath misting in his face as he pursued Arthur. They needed their gear, all of it probably.

Arthur cursed as he pivoted, skidding over the slick road in his shoes and ducked down. He fell to his knees and clawed at the cold asphalt, his metal arm scratching as he scrambled back to his feet. He felt a rush of air over his head. When Arthur tilts his head up, he sees one large arm of the entity outstretched inches over his spiked hair. The entity faded but kept its outline as it dug its claws and hooves into the road, but fell partway into the road when it lost traction completely.

“Too close! Too close!” Arthur harped, without a glance back. He tugged at the long sleeves of the leather jacket as he came upon the grocery bag and backpack he had dropped beside him at the time, when Vivi had fallen. Mystery’s legs clack at the road, every few feet the dog glanced back as the rustling of the Gollum cut through the distant between them. Mystery barked softly. “I know! This is as fast as I go!” But when Arthur grabbed the bags and chanced a look back over his shoulder, he took on a new speed.

Now Mystery found himself having a hard time keeping up with Arthur, as they jackknifed their course and ran along the tree lining beside the road. Mystery was partially distracted, he kept glancing up as he tried to match Arthur’s pace.

Awareness crawled back into Vivi’s thoughts. She couldn’t recall what had happened to lead up to her groggy, frigid state. The dull thudding pressed into her hearing, among the soft hiss of rainfall. Her hand was icy and wet and she could feel no sensation in her palms at first, which drew up alarm in her. Was she hurt? She couldn’t remember. When she shifted, she winced at the hot pain in her shoulder and felt a tight constricting around her chest, pressing her into the cool mass against her. The blurriness cleared from her eyes and she realized she was staring into a vibrant wall of pink, a satin tie if it were to be described. Vivi arched her head up to gaze at the skull above the suit collar, water droplets collect along the upper jaws teeth and drip into her face. She sees the eyes gleaming in small pinpoints within the eye sockets, but the gaze… doesn’t stare back.

“Lew?” No answer. “Lewis?” She picks up on Arthur’s scream and Mystery’s echoing barks, somewhere beyond the subdued thrum of the locket. Vivi’s own heartbeat quickens painfully in her chest, given the situation she was made present to. What is Lewis looking at? She struggles in his hold, pulling her frigid arm up to her chest and pushing, trying to find where he and she were, and where Arthur and Mystery could be now. The arms around her tighten to a painful degree, and Vivi turns her gaze back to Lewis as she takes a strained breath. “Lew. You’re hurting me.” The crushing grip pauses but his arms wouldn’t loosen. But, Vivi now had enough space that she could turn her head down to see….

Open air and trees way below their feet. Sixty feet, maybe eighty. Maybe. Her free hand grips at Lewis’ collar. The fog coats the tree tops with a thick gray shroud, and the tall pines stand along the slope below, angled, sharp.

Vivi blinks some of the water collecting in her eyes away. “You… you’re okay, Lew. It’s all right, I’m here.” No response. Not even a flicker in his dimmed eyes. Vivi found she couldn’t describe the skulls expression accurately, it looked vacant. Not frightened, but gone.

Shut down. Lewis had shut down to a basic level, but he had enough sense in him still to keep himself suspended, and latched onto Vivi.

“Stay with me,” Vivi whispered. She wriggled her other hand free, and again Lewis tensed his arms around her. Vivi pressed her elbows into his chest as she stared at his skull. “Can you hear my voice?” she asked. “It’s gonna be all right.” She removed her elbows from his chest and raised her arms, but hesitates. Lewis made no indication he had seen or heard her at all. If his locket was any suggestion of mood, it showed nothing but from its usual soft pulsing, maybe a tinge more of tarnish and reds rather than its usual gilded quality. Vivi shoved her hands over his eye sockets and gripped his skull. “Just listen to my voice, okay Lew?” The skull jerks in her grip and the hands around her chest loosen a fraction. “Don’t let go! Hold tight!” Lewis arms remain locked around her, and Vivi clenches her own teeth tightly as she stares at the skull under her pale palms, the splash of vibrant ‘hair’ tussled over her wrists.

“Can you move Lew?” Vivi prompts, voice strained. She heard alarmed barks from Mystery, but Vivi could only shut her eyes and pray that they were all right. She took a breath. “Follow my voice. Can you do that? Don’t let go, and follow my voice. There’s safety, solid ground. Safe ground.” Vivi nearly tears the skull off his shoulders when they begin to descend, but slowly. “Wonderful. You’re doing so well, just focus on my voice. Follow me.”

“Vivi?” the voice rumbled.

“Stay with me, Lew. A little higher,” she says, glancing back. “We’re almost there. Just please, don’t drop me. That would really suck.”

“Drop you?” When they were a little closer to the brush covered edge, Vivi stole her hands back from Lewis’ skull and plastered her arms over his shoulders. Lewis lowered them down until he detected the solid rock and stood there, staring across the road. He came back to himself a little more and took note of Vivi coiled around him, legs locked around his waist, and arms twisted over his shoulders. He raised his skull above his collar a bit. “Are you okay?”

Vivi shook her head against his shoulder. “No.”

Lewis was about to ask about what had happened exactly, when a shrill cry came from Arthur. Vivi snapped her head from Lewis’ chest, and Lewis leaned forward to see Arthur not far down the road at the edge of the bridge. The Gollum had him and Mystery pinned.

“Run, Mystery! Run!” Arthur had one of the creatures smaller arms gripped in his metal hand, but it still had three other limbs to grip at his remaining arm and legs. The creature didn’t have a mouth but it was pulling Arthur out by his legs and arm, and Arthur was trying to pull himself out of its grip. “I’ll be okay! Just find… find the—” Arthur cut off as he felt the first a dull crack in his ribs.

Mystery snarled and lunged. The Gollum gave the dog little notice as Mystery darts in, one of its large arms released Arthur’s leg and lashed out at the barking dog. Distracted, the entity pulled its torso back and looked up but hadn’t a chance to react before Lewis blasted into it from the side, fire spewing from his wrists down into the creature’s thick neck. It toppled sideways with Lewis pressing it the dirt a few yards from Arthur.

Vivi dashed to Arthur’s side as he crabcrawled backwards from the gray thing and the sudden intense flames shooting out of Lewis. “Are you hurt bad?” Arthur winced to Vivi as she grabbed his shoulder. “C’mon, move then!” She dragged Arthur up to his feet. “Why are you wearing his jacket?”

“I learned from you, okay?” Arthur grumbled. He followed Vivi when she sprinted off.

Mystery whined as he limped, one front paw was raised from the black tarmac as blood seeped down his dark toes. He went back for the bags left in the roadside and plucked up Vivi’s backpack, he raised it to her as she and Arthur caught up. “I’m sorry Mystery, I didn’t see you hurt yourself.” Vivi tossed her backpack up to Arthur as he hurried by them, to the bridge. She hefted Mystery up and grabbed the water slicked grocery bag and caught up with Arthur.

Another wall of fire tore from Lewis ribs and collar as maneuvered around behind the hissing Gollum. It followed, swinging its head down towards Lewis but missed catching the dapper ghost with its horns. Lush green brushes and thick leaves tear at its legs as it thudded and bound around the small clearing under the trees, it thrashed its head with a bullish quality whenever Lewis let it get near. He had to be careful, it was not spectral and remained solid constantly, but he had found it could drag him back into a physical state through unknown means. The larger front legs slashed at the pine littered rocks, dragging it forward with power and speed. Occasionally, if Lewis let himself drift too near the earth beneath him, he could detect the loose soil sag at his feet and slow his retreat like quicksand.

It leapt high, higher than something its density structure should allow. Lewis ducked aside on a swirl of flames and skids out of the way, leaving it to collide with the trunk of a pine in his place. Bark shredded in its claws and the Gollum recovered, only to stare at the damage it had left.

While it was distracted, Lewis glanced off and took note of Vivi and Arthur as they raced across on the road. They checked him before hurrying through the overgrowth of tree branches struggling through the rusted side railings of the road bridge. A little longer, then. Lewis returns to his current project, and glides backwards when the Gollum lashed out for him. It moved fast on one gallop and caught up to Lewis, on impulse Lewis drew back a fist and struck out with a blazing punch. Fire spread up and down the Gollum’s face and neck, but the creature merely shook it off.

As before.

It was more for his reassurance than protection, but it took too much out of him. Lewis swings back and lands among the short shrubs. He gives his collar a quick fix and straightens his tie, while the Gollum crept closer, the set of eyes between its horns track him. When it’s close enough Lewis kicks off and move right at the precise moment when it crouched for a lunge, but his feet were caught in a tangle of thick mud. The Gollum drags its head up and hooks Lewis’ in the ribs, and rears back on its hooved feet heaving Lewis up out of the slick silt. Both sets of arms tear into his hips and legs, with him secure the limbs begin to pull at his body.

Lewis scrabbles at the thick hide with claws, thick puffs of fire cough out around his neck collar. He isn’t certain what could possibly happen if he’s pulled apart, he can’t feel the pain of being broken again, but he can feel whatever ether that consisted of his physical essence drag out from him. He was losing focus, losing a sense of existence. Whatever consisted of his emotions and awareness was winking out, dislocating far around his body until he had nearly lost connection to himself. The distant rain in the pine trees became thunderous, the cold air ripped into his core. Fading. It was like fading into a null of vacant presence.

Flames tore out of Lewis, engulfing his graying suit. The Gollum gave a strained rasp as the blaze knifed through the moist cracks of its pebbled body, it swung its head until he was dislodged and it could back off. He tumbled through the wet shrubs before he managed to recover and rise up, flames and spirit orbs still drift around his shoulders. Lewis watched the Gollum as it rubbed its side into the rocky soil, struggling to douse the small crackling embers that persisted to vex its hide.

It stops altogether and rears up, as if listening for… elsewhere. The fire on it seems unaffected by the mist, but it has forgotten about that affliction altogether. He collected himself and raised up, prepared to steal back its attention, but the Gollum simply turns away. It races towards the bridge, fully ignoring him.

A gust of embers haze away from Lewis’ skull as he streaks after it, the soggy ground sizzles as he kicks up sparks. When the Gollum reaches the bridge it fades and nearly disappeared completely, before it leapt up upon the roof of the bridge. It was silent as it moved, the taps of rain the only sound across the steel top. He paused beneath the rusted and hole riddled eave debating if he should chance following up there.

He decides to glide across the road of the bridge, towards Vivi and Arthur at near center setting up, beside the rail and the wall that opened up about shoulder height to view the chasm below. They don’t notice him at first and Lewis doesn’t try to warn them, or slow their progress. He tilts his skull back and he watches the roof, he strains to pick out where the Gollum might appear under the constant hiss of the rain. Would it know where, he wonders? It would have to, he reasoned, it realized the danger it was in. A cry comes when Lewis is a few feet from the group, Mystery is barking as the Gollum squeezes through the open wall of the bridge.

“Crap!” Vivi choked out. She stumbled away when the creature barely missed her when it bucked with its hooved feet. It was still twisting around, turning to Arthur as he sprang out of the way of its flying claws. Vivi hit the back of her legs at the rail beside the road and she flops backwards, onto Mystery’s back when he darts up under her to break the fall. Mystery yaps as he crawls out from under Vivi, he snags the sleeve of her wet sweater in his teeth and tugs her toward the little pine branch shrine she was working on at the base of the bridges wall. “But Arthur!” Vivi tugs back.

Arthur stumbled out of the Gollum’s path when it turned on him. He cursed as he pulled around Vivi’s backpack from his shoulder and rummaged through its interior. He knew what he was looking for and snapped a few glimpses of the Terraria as it moved at him, the Gollum’s head low near his toes. A small rise of relief filled Arthur when he found the bottle of salt, and in one fluid motion he had it uncapped and had a small circle fixed around him on the damp bridge. There was high likely hood it wouldn’t work, Vivi had warned him, but he wanted a small bit of hope, as the Gollum was bearing down on him.

Odd. It was as if Arthur had imprisoned himself in the salt barrier. The Gollum reared back and twisted its claws out, and Arthur found he couldn’t move. The shock of it all, he supposed. He was stunned, as it brought its claws down and pinned him to the road. The Gollum leaned over him and bore its weight upon his body, Arthur gave an involuntary cry as the air was forced out of his lungs.

And then, it spoke. “HOW DARE YOU, MORTALS, INVADE MY HOME.”

Arthur blinked at the mist in his eyes and struggled to drag air back into his lungs. “I… We—” He choked, as it applied pressure onto its palm.

Then the Gollum swung itself back with a shriek, as a high wall of flames burst around Arthur and his small salt circle. Arthur gathered himself and cringed down into a tiny ball at the center of the sizzling ring, and wonders if he wouldn’t have been better off being crushed to death. But when he peaks at the Gollum, it had moved back and took no further act of violence on him.

Maybe that was because Lewis appeared right in front of it and grabbed it by the horns. It jerked back, and Lewis followed its recoil. Crackling fire surged down its face and chest as it tried to wrench out of his reach and gore or snag Lewis with its longer arms, but Lewis had risen his body out of its grasp and up towards the ceiling of the bridge.

The movement of the Gollum ceased at once, and it stood poised with Lewis hovering above its slanted face. He was staring into the glimmering gray eyes as the light in them faded, like the shimmer of a river stone sinking into mud. Lewis released the horns and drifted back, lowering himself to the road below while the fire ring continued to cackle and spit around Arthur. The drab blotches soaked into the remainder of the Gollum’s body, turning its moist gravel skin into choppy dust. In his peripheral, Lewis could see Vivi lean on the rail beside the road to watch, as the body of gravel began to collapse into the hollow shell of its core. The dust spread into a pile onto the road and the edges of it quickly became black as they were splattered with light rain. In the center of the thinning layer was a white edge poking out.

Lewis tilts his skull to the side and glides forward, dipping forward to reach into the pile of muck. From the gray matter he plucked out a yellow and partially bleached ribcage that fit on the palm of his hand.

“Hmm,” Lewis said. He swings back away from the remains and lowers his hand, as Vivi and Mystery come over. “You think someone made this… Gollum?” he asked, out of reference. He didn’t know what else to call it.

Vivi shrugged, as Lewis flipped the remains of a body over with one finger. “Could’ve been some animal. Are there any more?” She looked to the thin mound, as Lewis made a scratchy echo in his chest.

“I’m not digging through that.” Lewis let Vivi take the little ribcage, and she with Mystery returned to the memorial that had been assembled.

“Uh… hey?” Arthur peered out through the flickering flames of magenta that surrounded him. Lewis didn’t turn around. “Can I get outta the fire crib now? I promise to behave.” Arthur gave a sigh, trying still to work the stiffness out of his lungs. Lewis waved a hand over his shoulder and the flames dispersed. Arthur sat on his knees a bit longer staring at Lewis’ back, and Lewis watched Vivi begin pulling candles out of the grocery bag. “Thanks.”

The skull above Lewis’ shoulders twitched, but he didn’t look back. “Yeah,” Lewis echoed, as his form faded away.

Arthur moved to his feet quickly, the sleeves of the jacket slipped down over his hands. “Fine, be that way,” he muttered. He pulled the sleeves back up his arms and moved across the road, occasionally checking the pile of silt as he went. “I think he’s gone back to the van.” He could see beyond the bridge through the deep chasm where the trees stood in the curving, sweeping mountains. In the distance it looked like the cloud cover had opened some, but the rain fell as consistent as ever. It sounded nice now, while they were under cover.

“Probably,” Vivi answered. “I could’ve used his help though.” She set the candles down beneath the small shrine of bent and tied pine branches. “Did we leave the lighter in the van?” Arthur reached into his pocket and handed his over. Vivi gave the yellow case a short examination, before she knelt down and began lighting candles. Vivi pondered over her question, carefully orchestrating it in a manner that Arthur could not say ‘No’ to. “Could you take Mystery back?” she said. Three candles lit. “He hurt his paw.”

Arthur raised his brows, and glanced to the dog beside him. Mystery gave Arthur his largest eyes and whimpered, holding up his red stained paw. Arthur sighed and leaned over to pick the soggy dog off the road. “You sure you’ll be okay?” He was backing away already, glancing to pile of muck that had become the Gollum.

“I will,” Vivi answered. She put her hand over one candle and let the heat spread through her skin. She didn’t want Arthur to get sick, he couldn’t afford it. “Take care of Mystery. Ah, and maybe call a tow truck to get the van upright? The roads should be safe-er now.” Roads would always hold accidents for the foolish, but without the Gollum’s influence there should be no unnecessary loss of life. “Did Lew’s fire dry you out?” She smirked back at Arthur.

Arthur sighed. “A little. I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, and turned walking away.

Vivi watched him leave, a thin smile on her lips. She looked again to the lighter he had handed her and resumed lighting the candles. That was two more. Three center, three on the right, and three to the left; all in that order. When Vivi turns around, she’s startled by the person on the bridge with her.

“It’s very nice, merci manquer,” the woman says. Her clothing is lacy and white, absolutely dry. Curls of peach hair stick out from under the large white bonnet she wears, and a sort of crocheted collar is around her neck. Vivi was staring at that, when the woman tips her hat and moves away. Vivi follows her direction, and sees a group of people waiting for her, all dressed formally in attire that does not match the modern era. Unless maybe they were going to a church. The woman takes the hand of a small boy in a sky blue suit, and the small boy gives Vivi a last look before the woman leads him away to follow her group. “Ne rester en sécurité, Bleu Moyen. Do stay safe.”

Vivi smiles sadly as she watches the group depart. She dabs at her eye with a dry hand as she turns to take up the grocery bag. She pulls out the teddy bear – purchased on a whim when they were shopping for candles – and sets it behind the collection of candles. The rain patters and slicks down the sides of the roof, the sound distant and despondent as she stands alone upon the bridge cold and wet. Vivi turns her head, but as she suspected the odd troupe of people had gone. The road was safer, and maybe, maybe if people still used it, they would no longer see the odd hitchhikers out searching for home.

“They were French, maybe visiting foreigners,” Vivi said.

Lewis hummed for a minute as he pondered. “Bleu Moyen would be,” he said, narrowing his eyes around their dark pits as he frowned, “Blue Medium.”

“Hmm. I figured it was blue something,” Vivi admits. She sat in the center seat beside Lewis and watched the darkened road ahead. The engine puttered and hitched occasionally, but Arthur had given the van a thorough check over once they got it upright. Or, Arthur got it upright. With Lewis help. While Vivi was away still, Arthur was able to get a wench system set up in the tree branches and managed to heave the van over onto its wheels. It took some time, but in the end it had saved them a lot of trouble.

Arthur was already knocked out in the back, curled up in a nest of sleeping bags, blankets, and Mystery. With some amusement, Vivi recalled that Arthur was still wearing Lewis’ jacket, but since Lewis hadn’t made mention she figured that he knew Arthur probably needed it right now.

“Is that what you’re going to call me now?” Vivi asked. The heater wasn’t on at all, but the window was shut and she was sitting right beside Lewis.

He shook his head and smirked. “Naw. Maybe… Mi Arándano Medio. Or just Arándano Medio.”

“Is that Spanish?” she asked. Vivi glanced at Lewis’ arm as he set it on the back of the seat behind her.

“It’s Spanish,” he answers.

“What’s it mean?”

“My blueberry.” Lewis jolts a little when Vivi lies down and sets her head on his lap. She smiles up at him as he twitches, glancing down at her a few times while also trying to keep his focus on the road. He forgot to turn on the headlamps and reached over to flip the switch.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Vivi said, expressing some concern. “I’m a little run down from all of that… wildness. Thanks for saving us, by the way.” She folded her arms across her middle and enjoyed watching Lewis fumble with speaking, before he managed some audible words.

“No-no,” Lewis’ voice hitched, but it cleared somewhat as he went on. “No matter what, I wouldn’t stay idle if my friends were in danger.” He checked back over the head rest, into the vans interior as he moved his hand back onto the steering wheel. “Never.”

Vivi raised her brows a bit in mock surprise. “Really?”

“You know it,” Lewis said, and gave her a small smile.

“Okay. How about boysenberry.” Vivi rubbed at the bandage on her arm, where she had cut herself after the fall.

“What?”

“Boysenberry,” she answered. “In Spanish. How do I say it?”

“Espera dis… err…” Lewis glanced at his hands and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he considered. Then, he gave a wide smile. “Rey púrpura.”

Vivi glared up at his smug grin. “Are you being honest?”

“No….” Lewis droned out, little lights in his eyes darting off from her frown.

“Tell me. Now.” Vivi had a method for appearing intimidating, while lying on your lap, and staring at your face, all while she’s trying to seem serious but really, Lewis knew she was fighting off that grin. “Lew-Lew.” She reached up for the locket on his chest.

“Bayaboysen.” He watched as Vivi’s hand drew back to her chest, and inwardly he sighed.

She giggles, and Lewis no longer feels on edge. “Really?” she chirped. “Bayaboysen?”

“There wouldn’t be an actual translation, but this sounds more exotic.” He grinned around the words. “You like?”

Vivi cackles. “Yes! Bara Bayaboysen. Bara Bayay. Mi bara baya bae. Can I go on?” She clasped her hands to her lips and smiled.

Lewis slumps in his seat. “I should have held my voice.” He didn’t have a tongue, or vocal cords anymore, and barely had a voice as it was.

It is night now, the van rolls tirelessly through the black cage of the pine trunks curved around them on the thin road. Sometimes there’s a curious animal at the edge of the tress, usually a mouse or raccoon, sometimes a deer gazes out as the van rattles by. Lewis realizes how quiet it is and looks down at Vivi, but she doesn’t feel asleep. She’s quiet and relaxed, a bit bleary but holding on to the conscious world.

“Getting sleepy?” Lewis asked.

“Nope.”

Lewis lowers his hand and strokes her cool cheek. “You saved me. Didn’t you?”

“Hmm?” Vivi hummed. “I… when?”

The road stretched far ahead, spun around dark turns and crooked broken tree branches. Far above them the sky opened and dazzled, a thousand stars twinkling. He thought about the pit. “I got… lost, someplace dark,” he began, looking at the sky through the windshield. Glimmering, far into the deep inky black. “Your voice was there. I could hear your voice calling, and I followed it. I didn’t know what else to do. It—” Lewis came back, he twitched and turned his sight up to the rear view mirror. A skull stared back, bleached, burning ember eyes. He shifted in his seat and brought his attention back to the road. When he moved to take his hand from Vivi, she clasped it to her cheek. He glanced at her. Vivi was calm, tranquil, and there was a gentleness in her that had the capacity to tear him to pieces. It wasn’t fair that such emotion should ripple through him.

“It’s all right,” she said. “You’re gonna be okay.” Lewis snapped his bright eyes back to the road, and hid his sour disappointment easily. “You’re scared of heights.” Lewis didn’t respond, except to rub his thumb on Vivi’s chin. “I was always scared of that space under my bed when I was little,” she offered, voice soft.

Lewis huffed, and a little mist of pink spread from his skull. “This is… a little different.”

“I know,” Vivi hisses. “Jeez, don’t take it so literally, you’re worse than Arthur with playful jokes.”

Lewis makes a sound, something sharp like a crack. The radio pops to life with some soft music, and Lewis quickly snatches his hand from Vivi’s grip to lower the volume but not off. When he tries to replace his hand to the steering wheel, Vivi steels his wrist and brings his hand back to her cheek. Lewis says nothing, but he is content to stroke the soft space along her neck. Vivi is quiet for a long time, the soft drum of his locket kept pace with the passing seconds.

“What if… you were the one that was under my bed?” Vivi asked, voice groggy. “You would do something like that, wouldn’t you? You have a spooky reputation you gotta uphold and all.”

And Lewis ponders as he strokes the soft folds of her hair, and wonders of hiding under a child Vivi’s bed. She never kept up with her room when they were kids, still didn’t if he knew her (and he was confident he knew his Vivi). Lewis had doubts that he would fit under any bed, and if he could he didn’t believe it would befit such a dapper specter all that much.

Vivi goes on, “What would you have done if I decided to confront you one night? You know I would have, it was just inevitable.”

A soft hum rises in Lewis chest as he ponders the prospect. Go back in time and haunt a child Vivi’s bed? “I think,” he begins, “I would have been very cross if a child – even you – thought it proper to confront the spirit haunting their bed, and I would have swooped upon you, and scolded you for being up at such a late hour. Then, I would tuck you soundly into bed and tell you stories all night long, until you were fast asleep. When I knew for certain that you were indeed and well asleep, I would give you a kiss, and relocate myself to the closet. Where there’s more room.” He looked down at Vivi as she lay silent, eyes shut and breathing steady. She looked asleep, but was she? He couldn’t decide. Lewis kept his soft hymn calm and smooth.

“You did that once.” The voice nearly caught him off guard, but it was only Vivi, half asleep. “When we were kids. Yeah. You hid under my bed, because it was so cluttered no one would look for you there.” Lewis made a soft chortle. He could NOT see himself hiding under anyone’s bed, even if he was a young lad again. Well, maybe Arthur’s, but that was different. Vivi yawned. “You told your parents, that mine said it was okay if you slept over, and I just told mine you went home early.” She snickers. “And the plan was to stay up all night, and fight off the monster that did live under my bed. You were ready to go at it, I was impressed.”

A little more than confused, Lewis darted his eyes along his eye sockets as he considered. “I don’t really re—” Then it came back to him.

He did do that! Just like Vivi said. At the time his heart was pounding, he’d never lied to his parents before and they were so trusting of him. But it was for the greater good, and he wanted to be Vivi’s hero. He did it for her. Lied to his parents and was ready to face a bone crunching monster, with gnashing blood drenched teeth—this is how Vivi so eloquently put it at the time.

Turns out there was no monster or ghost, or anything as they had thought. After some hours of waiting in boredom, Vivi declared the monster very rude, and announced they would make a sheet fort to protect themselves, if it came back from wherever rude monsters went. They huddled inside with a few spooky story books Vivi had selected, and Lewis read to her for the remainder of the night, until they fell asleep.

“Ooh.” Lewis winced, as if taking a blow from the memory and the consequences of their mischief after all these years. “We got into so much trouble.”

“It was worth it though,” Vivi mumbled. “And we found out that there was no monster under my bed. Just Yew,” she said, and giggled a little. She gripped Lewis’ sleeve and tugged his arm down and hugged his wrist. Lewis let her, and only kept his hum sifting on the air.

Lewis remembered that in the intermission time, while her parents and his were sorting out the matter, Vivi had turned to him and announced the monster was so petrified by Lewis hiding in its spot, it gave up the ghost and went to bother someone else. Lewis was a hero. That had been fun, now ten years later. Yeah. Now it was fun.

“Art’s been telling you ‘bout the good ol’days, huh?” Lewis murmured, without breaking his soft coo. The engine rattled a bit as he eased off the gas to gain higher gear. He hoped Arthur had been as thorough as said when he gave the van a checkup.

Arthur makes an odd little sound in the back as he fumbles around and thuds to his side, or something. The interior back of the van was still a mess, but Arthur had cleared enough for himself and Mystery. It was possible he had heard his name muttered in Lewis’ voice, but Arthur resumed his heavy slumber without further noise, and Lewis let the cool ease roll through his form. The rhythmic chug of the engine whined out as the slope ended, and the van descends back onto lower lands. The thicket of pine trees cleared, the ground was hilly but low and leveled.

“He still doesn’t like to talk about the old days,” Vivi admits. “I just come up with these ideas of what we might’ve done when we were little. To compensate, y’know. So I feel like I do have something from back.” She pressed her face into his sleeve, and mumbled, “Sounds like we got into a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah,” Lewis rumbled. “But it was worth it after all.” He’s not sure, if he had skin he might’ve been, but the sense of touch was foreign to his peculiar essence now. He was accustomed to the absence, but he could remember the contrast and still revisit. He didn’t want to say anything at first, if he wasn’t certain. He could detect the warm moisture seep into his sleeve where Vivi was hugging him. “I know, Vi. I know,” he hummed.

“I’m happy,” Vivi said.

“I know,” he replies. “You can cry and still be happy. That is the best sort of happy, I believe.”

“I missed you,” she mumbled into his sleeve.

Lewis looked at Vivi, though she couldn’t see it. “I’m here.” But he began to sift through their words and only then, understood what Vivi had meant. Lewis went quiet as Vivi drifted and dozed, and finally was asleep.

No, no. She couldn’t remember. He burned out those memories, stole them away. At that time it was all he was capable of, the bad with the good. He could accept the toll, he could sustain though knowing his actions. But, if Vivi could reach so far back, she would be able to see what no person should ever have to witness. No. He glares at the bright glow in the rear view mirror, accenting the circular edge of his eye sockets. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Vivi held his sleeve tightly. Lewis couldn’t take his arm back, but he didn’t want to anyway. It was tempting. A way. Reinforce the lock. Banish the past completely. But he couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk doing what he had no comprehension or understanding of. There must be another way. When he had first done it, he had nearly… it had almost happened. But he was stronger than the call, the compulsion of whatever was beyond. The absence of everything that had mattered to him in life. Lewis could test how strong the bond was, but he would never risk it. He remembered too much. There was much he longed for in the world in a time when he had been his happiest, but the further he reached for old memories, the more distant and distorted they became.

Acceptance. That was the Fifth stage of Loss and Grief. It amazed him how powerful certain words be.

#msa #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls fanfic #msa fanfiction #msa lewis #msa vivi #msa arthur #msa mystery #fanfiction #mystery skulls fanfiction #msa fanfic

2 notes · View notes

rorykillmore · 4 years

Text

so today is @firelxdykatara‘s birthday!!!! she asked for a fic with natasha in it, and i thought, well, villanelle went home a few days ago on denny but we never got to rp her’s and nat’s reunion. so i did a little fic of it!!! i hope you enjoy, kitty (and i hope i wrote nat okay, im love her) because i do adore this dynamic and i am just so happy we’ve gotten the chance to build it together as much as we have

also, have a wonderful wonderful birthday!!! i know this is not exactly the easiest time of year to be celebrating, but keep your chin up and know that you have friends who love you and certainly love getting to spend a little bit of extra time with you. you have lifted my mood more times than you know by just being around and making me laugh, so i hope i can return the favor <3

Natasha is telling her little parts are enough, and oddly and inexplicably, Vilanelle thinks just then that maybe this is the safest she’s ever felt with another person.

The house is quiet the night Villanelle finally goes home. For a moment, she stands there out on the front porch and just breathes in the familiarity, the smell of the ocean and fire pits from down at the beach on the breeze, the sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance. It soothes her, even if imagining what might be waiting for her inside does not.

With her and Draco gone, maybe Natasha and Fox have already cleared out. Personally, Villanelle doesn’t see grief or mourning as very good reasons not to live in a gorgeous and expensive mansion, but people and their emotions can be so unpredictable sometimes.

Maybe they are just out doing something. Maybe they are planning her funeral. Villanelle had considered further delaying her return for the sole reason that it would be incredibly fun and dramatic to crash her own funeral.

But barring that, she should probably stop standing here wondering about it and actually go inside, she figures. So she steps up to the door, and --

Damn it.

It’s only when she tries the handle that she remembers she does not exactly have a key on her. To her own goddamn house. Wonderful.

Villanelle steps off the porch in favor of prowling the perimeter of the house instead, making for the pool deck in the back. Neither she nor her roommates are exactly the “hide a spare key under the doormat” type (they are all much too paranoid for that), but fuck, what is she, an amateur? If she cannot even break into her own home?

She’s just trying to figure out a way to do it without having to pay a window repair man -- and that’s when she rounds the corner of the mansion and sees that she was wrong. The house is not completely dark.

There is a light on in (what she estimates with a fair amount of confidence, considering how long she’s been here) Natasha’s window.

And suddenly, Villanelle gets the perfect idea.

Experimentally, she grips some of the ivy casing crawling along the wall and, once she’s sure it’s not going to give, she starts to climb. Natasha’s bedroom is only on the second floor, thankfully, so it’s not like she has to make it the whole way. When she gets up to the window, she pauses briefly to readjust herself before giving it a quick tap. She doesn’t even detect any movement in response, but she knows that’s most likely because Natasha is smart enough not to put herself in plain view of a potential intruder.

Sure enough, the curtain gets pulled back a second later, though, and Villanelle finds herself face to face with her friend with only a panel of glass to separate them.

Natasha stares.

Villanelle grins, and uses her free hand to give her a little wave.

She holds her position as Natasha finally seems to remember herself, unlocking the window and pulling it open, and by way of greeting -- “You... realize you could have knocked.”

“I did,” Villanelle responds innocently. “Technically.”

“At the door.”

“I thought you would respect me making an entrance.”

Natasha’s lips twitch, like she wants to smirk, but she doesn’t. Maybe she’s still a little too rattled. Villanelle will have to try harder. But that will have to wait until she actually climbs inside, which she does carefully when Natasha moves back in clear invitation.

“Surprised to see me?” she asks once she’s steadily back on her feet, offering Natasha a crooked grin.

Natasha doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she first takes a moment to study Villanelle, who studies her right back, taking a quiet sort of delight in how good she’s gotten at reading Natasha’s usually inscrutable expressions.

She takes less delight in the troubled shadow of sadness she sees in Natasha’s eyes, but... well, what can she do? She can’t take back the fact that she was forced into the Games. Or the fact that she died there.

“There were rumors some of the tributes were coming back,” Natasha finally responds. “But the RID hasn’t gotten anywhere close to verifying all of them. So... yes.” She gives Villanelle a tired sort of smile.

Unexpectedly, Villanelle wants to reach out to her. That’s a relatively new impulse -- so far, she’s shied away from too much physical contact with most of her reunions, or at the very least being the one to initiate it. Maybe the difference here is that Nat has always been so unexpectedly grounding for Villanelle -- not that she would ever be sappy enough to put that into words. But --

-- In some ways, it’s only now that she’s here with Natasha that it finally registers that she’s home.

She curbs her impulse and sits down on the edge of Natasha’s bed instead, shrugging. “It was a surprise to me too,” she admits simply. Understatement of the century, but that part probably doesn’t need to be said.

Carefully, quietly, Natasha sits down beside her. “...I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because at this point that’s a stupid question.”

Villanelle hums in agreement.

“But depending on your level of... not okay, I’m... you know. I’m here.”

And Villanelle supposes that she wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of scaling the wall to climb in through Natasha’s bedroom window if she had not, on some level, wanted her to be. She considers for another stretch of silence before she attempts a response. “...You know what it’s like.” Perhaps not the Hunger Games specifically, but extreme conditions of survival, endless cycles of violence, trauma? Villanelle is sure Natasha’s on the same page. “Sometimes it is best to just compartmentalize and move on.”

Natasha exhales slowly, but there’s nothing remotely judgmental in her expression. “It’s certainly easiest,” she agrees, without pushing. Villanelle instinctively relaxes a fraction. “Especially since you haven’t exactly had a lot of privacy over the last few weeks. It’s just... sometimes it’s also good to have people you don’t have to hide everything from.”

It’s the way Natasha says it that makes Villanelle pause before just shoving the idea away completely. Most other people, Villanelle knows, would have said “you can talk to me” or “you don’t have to hide from me” or some bullshit like that, expecting her to open up like a book waiting to be read.

But Natasha knows that for people like them - people who have worn and shed the skins of many, many different personas, who may not even know who they really are if they dig deep enough underneath all that - it’s not such an easy thing to do. An impossibility, even, to give someone the whole of yourself, or even just the whole of a singular feeling, when you are so used to only chipping off and offering little parts.

Natasha is telling her little parts are enough, and oddly and inexplicably, Vilanelle thinks just then that maybe this is the safest she’s ever felt with another person. She sighs, and then laughs, the sound rusty with disuse. “It feels weird. Giving your life for someone else. Not good. Not special.”

Silence answers her briefly as Natasha turns to stare at the wall opposite, her mouth twisting wryly, sadly. “...Yeah. I know what you mean.”

And she does, Villanelle realizes belatedly. Everything before the Games feels so much further away now, but she still remembers that ridiculous future marriage they’ve both avoided talking about. And she still remembers what Natasha told her, even if she has been trying to do Natasha the courtesy of pretending that she didn’t.

“I know what you did in there must go against all of your instincts. And everything you’ve been taught,” Natasha starts, her voice hitched with just enough emotion for Villanelle to know she’s speaking from experience. “...But you made your own choice. And you did it for someone you love. And whatever else you want to think about it, Villanelle, that still proves that you are so much more than just anything anyone could train you to be. Than every fucked up thing you’ve been through.”

Villanelle swallows without saying anything and stares down at her hands. It makes her think of what Natasha said before, when she had described the sacrifice she’d made for Clint. That she was broken. Villanelle has never thought of herself as “broken”, at least not in any kind of self-deprecating way, but she feels a little bit like she is now.

Mostly, though, she thinks about how Natasha came here after dying. How Natasha has probably not had anyone to tell her these things. And Villanelle, surely, would not be very good at it if she tried, but...

...She finally reaches out the way she wants to, and squeezes one of Nat’s hands with her own. “So are you,” she asserts firmly, determinedly, staring back at Natasha with all the adoration she can still muster (surprisingly, a lot, even given how exhausted she is) as if she can single-handedly, telepathically convince Natasha of how amazing she is.

And when Natasha squeezes her hand back tightly, Villanelle thinks, maybe she can’t fix everything for Nat just like Nat can’t fix everything for her.

But maybe they can do it in little parts, just like everything else.

#fic #[disaster russian assassins who have never known normalcy in their lives grasping hands]

6 notes · View notes

procrastinating-story-writer · 5 years

Text

Bonds that Bind Us

Summary: Odin ordered for Loki to return to Midgard as punishment to atone for what he did in New York and S.H.I.E.LD agreed.

She was not expecting an assignment such as this to fall on her lap but she had nothing better to do. How bad could it be being Loki's warden?

Pairing: Loki x OFC Omidah Penwinkle

Warnings: multiple chapter story, violence, experimentation, language, angst, just to name a few.

A/N: Hello everyone! First off thank you for reading. Now, this story can be found on my AO3 account Onyx_Lenora_Traise and I wanted to post this on Tumblr. Enjoy!

Omidah looked up from the book she was reading when she heard someone call her name. Ever since she agreed (was forced) to live in the Avengers tower, all quiet time and privacy went out the window. She saw her godfather Coulson enter the room, a grim look on his face

(A/N: he's very much alive in this story. Always been one of my favorite characters from Avengers)

"what's wrong? You look real distressed," Coulson sighed and sat next to her, he was not happy with the news he had to tell her but it was Fury's orders

"Fury has assigned you to a mission but I don't think you're going to like it; I sure as hell don't."

Omidah raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in her eyes, she knew all too well that when her godfather wasn't happy with a mission she had (which was rare), it was dangerous and life threatening and those were the best kind for her.

She giggled, "finally something to do! Please tell me it's really dangerous with lots of fighting,"

Coulson rolled his eyes at her excitement over the matter, she really was a strange young lady.

"Do you remember Thor's brother the infamous Loki?"

"yeah I remember him, how could I not? I nearly whooped his ass when he tried to escape from the helicarrier and I would have succeeded too if I didn't have you to worry about. I still owe him a beating for nearly killing you."

She knew that if Coulson had faced Loki alone that day and gotten the injuries he had without immediate medical assistance, he would have died

"Thor is bringing Loki back here on earth as a punishment from Odin to atone for his actions and he'll be confined to the tower with you as his warden."

Omidah stayed quiet processing the information related to her. She started to laugh. Coulson shot her a confused look.

"Oh my Ra! Do you have any idea how deliciously ironic this is?"

Coulson shivered when his goddaughter cackled (you know that comical laugh in animes when a twisted plan was in place?)

"So when will he be arriving? Where will he be sleeping? I need to prepare....oh my there is so much I need to look after."

Coulson shook his head in disbelief, she was taking this news well, too well for his liking

"Calm down Omidah sheesh, you're behaving like its your long lost friend that's coming for a visit. Why are you so excited anyways?"

She rolled her eyes "It's not everyday you get to meet a Norse god and now I'm gonna know two of them, plus I can finally have questions answered on magic and literature."

"Why can't you just ask Thor about all of that stuff"

"No offense to Thor but he doesn't really know the in-depth knowledge I seek and from what he's told me about his brother, well apart from what I've researched, Loki is like a walking, living fricking Norse encyclopedia. I'm kinda hoping also that he can give me an insight on some of my abilities, still rusty in some aspects.

Coulson give Omidah a have-you-lost-your-marbles-kind of look, she just smiled

"Relax I know what I'm doing, besides he's going to be here for a long time and eventually he will have to talk to someone, so I volunteer as tribute."

"I have to remember to get your brain checked for loose screws"

Omidah faked a gasp and threw a cushion at Coulson making him laugh

"but all jokes aside, I know what I'm getting myself into. The others won't agree with my methods of doing things but I never fail a mission. If Odin is sending Loki here to atone for what he did, he's not going to do so by being distant and locking himself in his assigned room which I have a good feeling he'll do,"

"So what's your game plan then," Coulson asked

"quite simple actually, I'm going to be his friend" she flashed Coulson a smile *any second now 3,2,1.....*

"YOU'RE GOING TO WHAT!?"

Sitting in the lounge, Omidah poured over the numerous files sent to her by Fury. The files contained information on the objective of her mission and information on Loki which she didn't need but due to protocol Fury sent them to her anyways.

Getting up and heading to the kitchen, she grabbed a glazed donut and a cup of coffee and headed back to the sofa. She needed to finish compiling her report of how she'll go about executing her mission; leave it up to the Director to give her extra homework. When she reentered the sitting area Tony was reading one of her files.

"If that was meant to kill someone you would be dead right now. Tony why do you have to be so nosy?"

Tony looked up from the file and grinned "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't love me my dear."

"You're like the cousin I never had Tony, of course I love you. It's your need to poke your nose in everyone's business is what errs me," she said matter of factly.

Tony glanced back at the file he just read, an eyebrow arched upwards

"So eye-patch finally decided to give you a mission after 6 months and he felt it was a good idea to have you babysit a temperamental Norse god?"

"I'm not complaining, its better than nothing and besides I'm looking forward to this mission and before you ask why, it cause I think it will be a great challenge for me."

Tony studied her for a few seconds "knowing you and I know you quite well, it's more than one reason. Just be careful okay kiddo?"

Omidah walked over and gave him a quick hug "I'll be fine Tony, what I'm worried about is how you and everyone else feels about having Loki in the tower"

Rolling his eyes Tony flicked Omidah's nose "the hell Tony, what was that for?"

"Just felt like it and we'll be fine just as long as Reindeer games behaves."

She and Tony both knew it was easier said than done.

It took one week for Omidah to have everything prepared for Loki's arrival. Looking down at her watch, it showed half past one. She was informed that Thor would be bringing Loki by two.

Dressed in a simple olive turtleneck sweater and black jeans accompanied by ankle high boots, she stood on the balcony standing a distance away from the helipad.

Shifting her eyes back to her watch which now showed half past two. Omidah groaned in annoyance *Thor is late.....which is not really like him.....what's taking them so long?*

"Well this is very unprofessional, unless Odin changed his mind and decided to keep Loki imprisoned on Asgard." She frown at the idea "Oh goddess I hope that isn't the case,"

Pulling out her work phone she was about to speed dial Fury when a bright light descended from the sky and landed on the helipad. As quickly as it came, it vanished and left standing was Thor and beside him the infamous Loki as Coulson likes to call him.

She breathed a sigh of relief glad they didn't cancel at last minute but pulled a straight face and decided to mess with Thor a little bit for making her wait.

"Thor you are late by thirty minutes and twenty-five seconds, I was beginning to wonder if plans were cancelled."

Thor flashed her a quick grin "Lady Omidah I apologize for the delay but there was a slight mishap before our departure," he grumbled the last part while gliding his eyes in Loki's direction.

Omidah had to refrain herself from snickering. Leave it up to the God of Mischief to cause a mishap

"I see. Well mishaps do happen" she said with a shrug "but you're still late, so to make it up to me, you are not allowed pop tarts for the next week."

Omidah watched as Thor became slightly pale and looked like he was about to pass out. She started to laugh because he just looked like a lost puppy

"Thor I'm joking, I would never deny you pop tarts, you'll simply go into a coma without them but you still have to make up for being late okay?"

Thor breathed in relief and smiled "I'm thrilled that my pop of tarts will not be taken away from me and once again I'm sorry for the delay,"

Nodding she began to walk over to the brothers, a perplexed look crossed her features when she noticed the muzzle around Loki's mouth. The darn thing looked very uncomfortable and she thought it was very unnecessary. It angered her slightly. Wasn't Loki a prince of Asgard? Why was he being treated like an animal?

"Thor I would very much appreciate it if you removed that infernal contraption off your brother and please for the love of the river Nile take off these chains, he looks very uncomfortable. He's not a prisoner in Asgard but a guest in the Tower," She said with a slight irritation in her voice.

She felt eyes on her, so shifting her gaze from Thor she found Loki staring at her in confusion.

"Well if he didn't try to escape the moment he felt the dungeons, he wouldn't be in chains"

"Regardless he's here now so take 'em off, we still need to get him settled plus I need to report to Fury in the next half hour. You and I both know he gets like a cranky old lady when he's kept waiting"

Thor faced Loki preparing to remove the 'infernal contraption' as Omidah called it. Once it was off, the chains were next. Loki gently rubbed his wrists and looked back at the female across from him.

She sent him a gentle smile which only confused him further. He searched her eyes and found no hostility in them, just curiosity and slight excitement.

"Much better, thank you Thor. Well let me be the first to welcome you back to Stark Towers Mr. Laufeyson. My name is Omidah Pennwinkle and I'll be looking over you as you stay here." She grinned at her intro speech and the look of sheer confusion and disgust in Loki's eyes. He really didn't want to be there.

"Come gentlemen, there is much to do and I have...." glancing at her watch she turned and slowly started to walk back inside "fifteen minutes to do so before my boss starts screaming like a banshee in my eyes for reporting late."

The two brothers looked at her retreating form, glanced at each other and followed her through the waiting door. Loki groaned internally, he really didn't want to be there.

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki (marvel)#original character #female character #mcu #marvel mcu #avengers #loki x oc

1 note · View note

septic-dr-schneep · 6 years

Text

JSE Fanfiction - Second Nature

Summary: With Schneep and Marvin otherwise occupied, Chase gets coerced into pulling out his fatherly tactics and taking care of Jackieboy when he’s come down with the flu.

Jackieboy’s life had been full of close calls. His job was one that constantly put his safety on the line; it was his second nature and his first instinct to dive headlong into the fray of any mildly threatening situation. This, however, was something he always tried to avoid like the plague; it was the plague.

Every single time he got sick, he swore that he would rather face Anti in a sudden death match armed with nothing but his fists rather than lie on the couch being fussed over. With hollow, glazed eyes, a splotchy fever flush painted over his cheeks and a mountain of blankets pulled up to his throat, he knew he made up the most cliché image of a sick person possible. It was miserable, inconvenient, and embarrassing.

That being said, it was an inevitable truth that because he was one of the most powerful members of the household, it had to be an equally powerful virus to take him down. He had exactly no chance of rising from this couch for work today. His shivering only worsened the cloying ache in his joints and with every breath it felt like there was a rusty nail dragging along the back of his throat that no amount of fluids would dislodge. That wasn’t going to stop his caregiver from trying, though.

“Here you go…” Jackieboy flinched slightly as the straw accompanying the voice poked at his lips, asking for entrance. “I got some juice from the fridge instead of coffee so it won’t burn your throat this time, okay? Just a few sips.”

Not bothering to open his eyes, the hero offered a raspy “mm-hmm” before prying his aching jaw open and catching the straw between his teeth. The apple juice was smooth and cool as it slid down his throat, but he couldn’t help but grimace at the off-brand taste. Maybe it was just his clogged sinuses ruining it, but he couldn’t bear too many sips.

“That any better, bro?”

“…Yeah.”

Chase pursed his lips ruefully, seeing through Jackieboy’s weak lie. “Sorry, man, I don’t really know how the doc does it,” he admitted freely as he set the cup on the nearby coffee table. “I’d ask, but his phone just goes straight to voicemail. He’s probably in a surgery.”

“What about Marvin?”

There was a pause as something passed over the younger Ego’s face—puzzlement, maybe, and a small twinge of hurt. Before Jackieboy could fully register it, it disappeared behind a small, polite smile. “He’s in the middle of rehearsals for his next gig,” he answered at last, his tone revealing nothing as he leaned back on his heels.

The functioning part of Jackieboy’s brain reminded him then that this was Chase he was talking to. Any small, unassuming thing might be turned the wrong way in his mind and strike a blow to his self-esteem…He must think Jackieboy would have preferred one of them over him as a caretaker.

“I was just aski—” Stiffening as his chest seized, Jackieboy had only a moment to haul the blankets over his face before the coughing fit smashed into him like a load of bricks. Over his flurry of wracking wheezes, he could hear Chase hissing through his teeth in sympathy. Almost thirty seconds later, he was still hacking and the vlogger finally shook his head and peeled some of the blankets back.

“Alright, alright, c’mon, let’s sit you up here,” he urged, wrapping an arm around Jackie’s back with firm gentleness. His hand didn’t leave once Jackieboy was upright, rubbing slow circles into his sweaty pajama shirt as air returned to his lungs in stops and starts. “That’s it, it’s calming down now…In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’ve got it.”

Jackieboy’s heaving shoulders stilled for only a moment before lurching once, twice more in a distinctively different fashion as his apple juice surged back up to his throat. “Cha—” he gagged, clapping his hands over his mouth and curling in on himself, shaking his head violently as telltale nausea prickled over his body.

“Oh—” Recoiling, Chase lunged to his feet and scrambled to the kitchen, tearing through the cabinets for the nearest bowl. “Hang on, hang on—!”

It was a tribute to the vlogger’s speed and agility, honed with hours and hours of trick shots, that he managed to find the perfect bowl and thrust it under his chin in time for him to retch into it. The force of his heaving nearly knocked his forehead against the bowl’s metal rim until Chase put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he soothed all the while, shushing Jackieboy’s pained groans and gags. “S’alright, just get it out. I’m sorry, man, I know it hurts…” Pursing his lips, he moved his hand from Jackie’s shoulder to the back of his neck, tsking worriedly. “You’re really warm.”

Sure enough, it took everything in him for Jackie not to lean back into Chase’s blissfully cool touch. Instead, releasing a slow, shaky exhale, Jackieboy weakly shifted the bowl to his left, indicating he was finished, at least for now. Chase hardly batted an eye as he took it back to the kitchen to rinse it out, but when he returned with the bowl in one hand and a damp towel in the other, he noticed how Jackieboy’s flush deepened. It wasn’t from his fever.

“It helps!” he retorted in answer to the other’s unspoken distaste.

“C’mon…” the older Ego croaked, shoulders slumping in mingling embarrassment and despair.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” Chase advised, easing Jackie’s head back with a hand on his forehead so his face could be at the best angle for the toweling. “Here, I’ll be Marvin if it makes you feel better.” Making his voice a bit gruffer and his accent a bit thicker, he announced, “For my next trick, I will be demonstrating something of wonder, awe, and amazement…The Productive Dab.”

The towel was softer than Jackieboy expected, or perhaps it was the gentleness of Chase’s strokes that fooled him into thinking it was. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the cloth was patted along his temples, cheekbones, jawline and the curve of his throat.

“There. Isn’t that better?” Chase questioned rhetorically once he was satisfied, brushing aside stray strands of Jackieboy’s hair so he could drape the folded towel over his forehead.

“S’like magic…” Jackieboy agreed hazily, his eyes drifting over to him. “’m…sorry, Chase. I was just asking about Henrik and Marv cos I…didn’t want you to see me like this.”

It took a moment but to the hero’s faint surprise, Chase barked an incredulous laugh. “What, seriously? Dude, you think I haven’t seen this before? This is nothing! Try taking care of a five-year-old when she’s got the flu. Brianna was the most pathetic little picture you could imagine, all bundled up in bed. Every time I thought she was asleep and I’d get up for food or coffee, she’d wake right back up and start crying, which only made her nose run everywhere.”

“Poor kid,” Jackie murmured.

“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.” Chase’s expression grew wistful then, his attention wandering. “But when she cried, she wanted me to rock her. Walking around her room and rocking her was the only thing that would help.” Chuckling wryly, he glanced back at Jackieboy and opened his arms invitingly. “Think that would work?”

“Sounds nice, but I don’t think you could lift me.”

“Oh, you think I don’t lift, bro?”

Jackieboy laughed at that, the sound catching in his throat to turn into another dry cough. “Ow, ow—don’t make me laugh, it hurts.” Holding his breath for several seconds to calm down the warning ache in his throat, he settled his head more heavily against the arm of the couch, letting his eyes close. “Sounds like you’re a better caretaker than I figured,” he commented, trying to stay focused on the conversation and not on the headache trying to persist in dragging its fingers along his skull.

“Well, yeah. I don’t usually get to take care of you; you’re always taking care of me,” Chase pointed out. “You’re always taking care of all of us.”

“S’my job. I worry about you.”

“Right back at you,” Chase insisted. “Jackieboy…you know how much you mean to us, right? We wouldn’t get anywhere without you. You know that, right?”

“…Yeah. I think you could do just fine, though. More than fine. You’re…you’re really amazing, Chase. I couldn’t ask for you to be any better. You make all of us proud and I wouldn’t get anywhere without you.” Though his weary tone didn’t change as he said those words, Jackie could feel a slight sting in his chest and behind his eyelids as emotion stirred. He took a lesson from Chase’s daughter, however, and pressed it down deep in his stomach before it could clog his sinuses and make the ache in his throat any worse. “For one thing, I’d have puked all over these blankets.”

Silence reined for a few minutes after that remark, until Jackieboy’s mind was starting to wander into the dim, delirious thoughts that were almost dreams. Eventually Chase muttered something or another that might have been thanks before rising to his feet. “You’ve gotten really sappy; your fever must be gettin’ to you. I should let you rest.”

“Wait, wait—don’t go—” In his bleary haste, Jackie’s plea sounded much more tragic than it was technically meant to, but it did give Chase pause. Deciding to roll with it, the older Ego widened his eyes pitifully. “Henrik and Marvin always stay with me when I’m sick…”

“Would it make them proud?” Chase quipped, earning nothing but another longing blink in return. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he shook his head and relented. “Just let me grab my headphones real quick so I can listen to music in case you start snoring.”

Jackieboy’s next blink was one of confusion. “Wh—I don’t snore!”

“Sure, you do. Marvin always tries to trick me into swapping rooms with him since you two share a wall,” the vlogger announced guiltlessly as he skirted past the coffee table and marched out of the room for his headphones.

Digesting this information with a mild scowl, Jackieboy huffed, coughed a few times and then let his head slide off the armrest onto the couch cushion itself, effectively burying himself under the blankets. He had a nagging feeling that he would overheat sometime while he was napping, but at the moment the warmth the blankets provided was pretty comforting. After he had settled into a breathing pattern that wouldn’t stir a coughing fit, he finally felt free to doze off.

When he was still just semiconscious of his surroundings, he heard Chase return, humming softly to the tune in his headphones as he settled down in the chair nearby. The sound lulled him all the way down into darkness, and his sleep was peaceful. He didn’t make a sound.

#youtube #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #youtube fanfiction #jackieboy man #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #marvin the magnificent #sickies being sick #sickfic #whump #fluff for days #chase is the ultimate dad friend #even when he's reluctant #he's a good caretaker #<3

210 notes · View notes

mrjeremydylan · 7 years

Text

My Favorite Album #224 - Lilly Hiatt on Pearl Jam ‘No Code’ (1996)

East Nashvillian singer-songwriter Lilly Hiatt draws as much from the fundamentals of 90s guitar rock as she does from Americana storytelling, and today she joins me to celebrate ‘No Code’ - the album that cemented the legacy of one of the all-time great rock bands, Pearl Jam.

Listen in the player above or download the episode by clicking here.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts here or in other podcasting apps by searching ‘My Favorite Album’ or copying/pasting our RSS feed -http://myfavoritealbum.libsyn.com/rss

My Favorite Album is a podcast on the impact great music has on our lives. Each episode features a guest on their favorite album of all time - why they love it, their history with the album and how it’s influenced them. Jeremy Dylan is a filmmaker, journalist and photographer. He directed the the feature music documentary Jim Lauderdale: The King of Broken Hearts (out now!) and the film Benjamin Sniddlegrass and the Cauldron of Penguins.

If you’ve got any feedback or suggestions, drop us a line at [email protected].

LINKS

- Lilly Hiatt on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. Get her new album ‘Trinity Lane’ here.

- Buy ‘No Code’ here.

- Jeremy Dylan’s website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook page.

- Like the podcast on Facebook here.

- If you dig the show, please leave a rating or review of the show on iTunes here.

CHECK OUT OUR OTHER EPISODES

223. Sarah Lewitinn aka Ultragrrrl on Interpol ‘Our Love to Admire’ (2007) 222. Whispertown on Sugar Pie DeSanto ‘Down in the Basement: The Chess Years’ 221. Aaron Lee Tasjan on The Beatles ‘Revolver’ (1966) 220. Jon Cryer on Radiohead ‘OK Computer’ (1997) 219. Neil Innes on The Mothers of Invention ‘We’re Only In It for the Money’ (1968) 218. Gold Class on the Dirty Three ‘Ocean Songs’ (1998) 217. Julian Velard on Billy Joel ‘Turnstiles’ (1976) 216. Courtney Marie Andrews on Bob Dylan ‘Blood on the Tracks’ (1975) 215. Anita Lester on Leonard Cohen ‘Song of Love and Hate’ (1971) 214. Meet Me In The Bathroom author Lizzy Goodman on Yeah Yeah Yeahs ‘Fever to Tell’ (2003) 213. JAY-Z biographer Zack O'Malley Greenburg on JAY-Z ‘Reasonable Doubt’ (1996) 212. #BeatlesMonth Wall Street Journal’s Allan Kozinn on how ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’ broke the Beatles in America and the anatomy of an iconic hit 211. #BeatlesMonth Conan’s Jimmy Vivino on the Sgt Pepper remixes and recreating the intricacies of the Beatles with the Fab Faux 210. #BeatlesMonth Heartbreaker Benmont Tench on playing with Ringo, the Beatles RnB roots and the genius of ‘No Reply’ 209. #BeatlesMonth Ken Levine on ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ (1967) 208. All Our Exes Live In Texas on Rufus Wainwright ‘Want’ (2004) 207. Eilish Gilligan on Counting Crows ‘August and Everthing After’ (1993) 206. Katie Brianna on Rilo Kiley ‘Under the Blacklight’ (2007) 205. Pegi Young on her biggest influences, from Janis to Joni, Clapton to the Dead 204. Margaret Glaspy on Bjork ‘Vespertine’ (2001) 203. Iluka on Marvin Gaye ‘What’s Going On’ (1971) 202. Veronica Milsom (triple J) on The Shins ‘Wincing the Night Away’ (2007) 201. Charles Esten on Bruce Springsteen ‘Born to Run’ (1975) 200. What’s Your Favorite Aussie Music? with Benmont Tench, Duglas T Stewart, Natalie Prass, Sam Palladio and Jeff Greenstein 199. Showrunner Jeff Lieber on Gregory Alan Isakov ‘The Weatherman’ and how music fuels his writing process 198. Jack Colwell on Tori Amos ‘Boys for Pele’ (1996) 197. Benmont Tench on playing with Bob Dylan, Jenny Lewis and Ryan Adams and the worst advice he’s received 196. Ella Thompson (Dorsal Fins, GL) on Renee Geyer ‘Moving On’ 195. The Shires on Lady Antebellum ‘Own the Night’ (2011) 194. Duglas T Stewart (BMX Bandits) on Beach Boys ‘Love You’ (1977) 193. Dan Soder on Queens of the Stone Age ‘Like Clockwork’ (2013) 192. Kingswood on The Beatles ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ (1967) 191. Comedian Becky Lucas on Michael Jackson ‘Bad’ (1987) 190. PVT on Brian Eno ‘Another Green World’ (1975) 189. Middle Kids on My Brightest Diamond ‘Bring Me The Workhorse’ (2006) 188. The Bitter Script Reader on Tom Hanks ‘That Thing You Do’ (1996) 187. Carly Rae Jepsen ‘Emotion’ (2015) with CRJ Dream Team Roundtable 186. Sarah Belkner on Peter Gabriel ‘So’ (1986) 185. Mark Hart (Crowded House, Supertramp) on XTC ‘Drums and Wires’ (1979) 184. Emma Swift on Marianne Faithfull ‘Broken English’ (1974) 183. Owen Rabbit on Kate Bush ‘Hounds of Love’ (1985) 182. Robyn Hitchcock on Bob Dylan ‘Blonde on Blonde’ (1966) 181. Dave Mudie (Courtney Barnett) on Nirvana ‘Nevermind’ (1991) 180. Brian Koppelman on Bruce Springsteen ‘Nebraska’ (1982) 179. Nicholas Allbrook (POND) on OutKast ‘The Love Below’ (2003) 178. 2016 in Review: What the hell? ft Jeff Greenstein, Rob Draper & Cookin on 3 Burners, Melody Pool, Lisa Mitchell, Emma Swift, Brian Koppelman, Mark Hart (Crowded House), Davey Lane and Alex Lahey 177. Harper Simon on The Beatles ‘White Album’ (1968) 176. Andrew P Street on Models ‘Pleasure of Your Company’ (1983) 175. Matt Farley (Motern Media) on why The Beach Boys ‘Love You’ is better than ‘Pet Sounds’ 174. Lisa Mitchell on Regina Spektor ‘Begin to Hope’ (2006) and her favorite albums of 2016 173. Peter Bibby on Sleep ‘Dopesmoker’ (2003) 172. Slate’s Jack Hamilton on Stevie Wonder ‘Innervisions’ (1973) 171. Showrunner Blake Masters on Drive-By Truckers ‘The Dirty South’ (2004) 170. Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes) on on their new album ‘We’re All Gonna Die’, loving LA and the albums that inspire him 169. Sadler Vaden on The Rolling Stones ‘Goats Head Soup’ (1973) 168. Guy Clark biographer Tamara Saviano on ‘Dublin Blues’, Guy’s songwriting process and his musical legacy 167. What does Trump mean for music? 166. A Tribute to Sir George Martin, The Fifth Beatle with Davey Lane and Brett Wolfie 165. John Oates on Joni Mitchell ‘Blue’ (1971) 164. Jimmy Vivino on the birth of the Max Weinberg 7, his relationship with Conan O’Brien, country music and the future of rock’n’roll 163. DJ Alix Brown on Transformer (1972) by Lou Reed 162. Taylor Locke on Doolittle (1989) by the Pixies, the album that inspired 90s alt-rock 161. Harts on Around the World in a Day (1985) by Prince and jamming with Prince at Paisley Park 160. Mark McKinnon (The Circus) on Kristofferson and programming the President’s iPod 159. Alan Brough on A Walk Across the Rooftops (1984) by The Blue Nile 158. Peter Cooper on Pretty Close to the Truth (1994) and why we need Americana music 157. Will Colvin (Hedge Fund) on One of the Boys by Katy Perry (2008) 156. Julia Jacklin on Extraordinary Machine by Fiona Apple (2005) 155. Japanese Wallpaper on Currents by Tame Impala (2015) 154. Montaigne on her album Glorious Heights (2016) and its inspirations 153. Alex Lahey on Hot Fuss by the Killers (2004) 152. Jack Moffitt (The Preatures) on Physical Graffiti by Led Zeppelin (1975) 151. Mike Bloom on Axis Bold As Love by Jimi Hendrix (1968) 150. Hey Geronimo on Drowning in the Fountain of Youth by Dan Kelly (2006) 149. Mickey Raphael on Teatro by Willie Nelson (1998) 148. Jack Ladder on Suicide by Suicide 147. Rusty Anderson on Hot Rats by Frank Zappa 146. Kenny Aronoff on The Beatles 145. Bob Evans on A Grand Don’t Come for Free by The Streets 144. Chris Hewitt (Empire) on New Adventues in Hi-Fi by REM 143. Dr Warren Zanes on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 142. Dr Mark Kermode (Wittertainment) on Sleep No More by the Comsat Angels 141. Van Dyke Parks on Randy Newman by Randy Newman 140. Imogen Clark on Heartbreaker by Ryan Adams 139. Jesse Thorn on Fresh by Sly and the Family Stone 138. Stephen Tobolowsky on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars by David Bowie 137. Ben Blacker on Blood and Chocolate on Elvis Costello & the Attractions 136. Jonny Fritz on West by Lucinda Williams 135. Adam Busch on A River Ain’t Too Much to Love by Smog 134. Kelsea Ballerini on Blue Neighbourhood by Troye Sivan 133. Natalie Prass on Presenting Dionne Warwick 132. Josh Pyke on Badmotorfinger by Soundgarden 131. Kip Moore on Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen 130. Koi Child on Voodoo by D’Angelo 129. The Cadillac Three on Wildflowers by Tom Petty 128. Julian McCullough on Appetite for Destruction by Guns n Roses 127. Danny Clinch on Greetings from Ashbury Park NJ by Bruce Springsteen 126. Sam Palladio (Nashville) on October Road by James Taylor 125. Steve Mandel on Blood and Chocolate by Elvis Costello 124. Brian Koppelman on The History of the Eagles 123. Benmont Tench on Beggars Banquet by the Rolling Stones 122. Jimmy Vivino (Basic Cable Band) on Super Session by Al Kooper, Mike Bloomfield and Stephen Stills 121. Holiday Sidewinder on Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid by Bob Dylan 120. Ben Blacker on Aladdin Sane by David Bowie 119. EZTV on The Toms by The Toms 118. Jess Ribeiro on Transformer by Lou Reed 117. Whitney Rose on Keith Whitley Greatest Hits 116. Best Albums of 2015 with Danny Yau ft. Jason Isbell, Dan Kelly, Shane Nicholson, Tim Rogers, Will Hoge and Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala) 115. Phil Spector’s A Christmas Gift For You with Jaime Lewis 114. Xmas Music ft. Kristian Bush, Lee Brice, Corb Lund and Tim Byron 113. Sam Outlaw on Pieces of the Sky by Emmylou Harris 112. Jason Isbell on Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones 111. Ash Naylor (Even) on Houses of the Holy by Led Zeppelin 110. Burke Reid (Gerling) on Dirty by Sonic Youth 109. Lance Ferguson (The Bamboos) on Kind of Blue by Miles Davis 108. Lindsay ‘The Doctor’ McDougall (Frenzal Rhomb) on Curses! by Future of the Left 107. Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala) on Chrominance Decoder by April March 106. Melody Pool on Blue by Joni Mitchell 105. Rusty Hopkinson (You Am I) on ‘Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era’ 104. Jeff Greenstein on A Quick One (Happy Jack) by The Who 103. Dave Cobb on Revolver by the Beatles 102. Justin Melkmann (World War IX) on Coney Island Baby by Lou Reed 101. Kacey Musgraves on John Prine by John Prine 100. Does the album have a future? 99. Corb Lund on Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs by Marty Robbins 98. Bad Dreems on Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division 97. Davey Lane (You Am I) on Abbey Road by the Beatles 96. Dan Kelly on There’s A Riot Goin’ On by Sly and the Family Stone 95. Ash Grunwald on Mule Variations by Tom Waits 94. Stella Angelico on The Shangrilas 93. Eves the Behavior on Blue by Joni Mitchell 92. Troy Cassar-Daley on Willie Nelson’s Greatest Hits 91. Lydia Loveless on Pleased to Meet Me by the Replacements 90. Gena Rose Bruce on The Boatman’s Call by Nick Cave 89. Kitty Daisy and Lewis on A Swingin’ Safari by Bert Kaempfert 88. Will Hoge on Modern Sounds in Country & Western Music by Ray Charles 87. Shane Nicholson on 52nd St by Billy Joel 86 - Tired Lion on Takk… by Sigur Ros 85 - Whispering Bob Harris on Forever Changes by Love 84 - Jake Stone (Bluejuice) on Ben Folds Five by Ben Folds Five 83 - Pete Thomas (Elvis Costello and the Imposters) on Are You Experienced? by the Jimi Hendrix Experience 82 - Dom Alessio on OK Computer by Radiohead 81 - Anthony Albanese MP on The Good Son by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds 80 - John Waters on Electric Ladyland by The Jimi Hendrix Experience 79 - Jim DeRogatis (Sound Opinions) on Clouds Taste Metallic by The Flaming Lips 78 - Montaigne on The Haunted Man by Bat for Lashes 77 - Guy Pratt (Pink Floyd) on Quadrophenia by The Who 76 - Homer Steinweiss (Dap Kings) on Inspiration Information by Shuggie Otis 75 - Best of 2015 (So Far) ft. Danny Yau, Montaigne, Harts, Joelistics, Rose Elinor Dougall and Burke Reid 74 - Matt Farley (Motern Media) on RAM by Paul McCartney BONUS - Neil Finn on The Beatles, Neil Young, David Bowie and Radiohead 73 - Grace Farriss (Burn Antares) on All Things Must Pass by George Harrison 72 - Katie Noonan on Blue by Joni Mitchell 71 - Harts on Band of Gypsys by Jimi Hendrix 70 - Tim Rogers (You Am I) on Bring the Family by John Hiatt 69 - Mark Seymour (Hunters and Collectors) on The Ghost of Tom Joad by Bruce Springsteen 68 - Jeremy Neale on Graceland by Paul Simon 67 - Joelistics on Graceland by Paul Simon 66 - Brian Nankervis (RocKwiz) on Astral Weeks by Van Morrison 65 - ILUKA on Pastel Blues by Nina Simone 64 - Rose Elinor Dougall on Tender Buttons by Broadcast 63 - Sarah McLeod (The Superjesus) on Siamese Dream by The Smashing Pumpkins 62 - Keyone Starr on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill 61 - Chase Bryant on Defying Gravity by Keith Urban 60 - Brian Koppelman on Southeastern by Jason Isbell 59 - Michael Carpenter on The Beatles White Album Side 4 58 - Pete Kilroy (Hey Geronimo) on The Beatles White Album Side 3 57 - Mark Wells on The Beatles White Album Side 2 56 - Jeff Greenstein on Colossal Youth by Young Marble Giants 55 - Laura Bell Bundy on Shania Twain, Otis Redding and Bright Eyes 54 - Jake Clemons on Surfacing by Sarah McLachlan 53 - Kristian Bush (Sugarland) on The Joshua Tree by U2 52 - Kevin Bennett (The Flood) on Willis Alan Ramsey by Willis Alan Ramsey 51 - Lee Brice on Unorthodox Jukebox by Bruno Mars 50 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on the White Album (Side 1) by The Beatles 49 - Joe Camilleri on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 48 - Russell Morris on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 47 - Mike Rudd (Spectrum) on England’s Newest Hitmakers by The Rolling Stones 46 - Henry Wagons on Harvest by Neil Young 45 - Megan Washington on Poses by Rufus Wainwright 44 - Andrew Hansen (The Chaser) on Armchair Theatre by Jeff Lynne 43 - She Rex on BlakRoc by The Black Keys 42 - Catherine Britt on Living with Ghosts by Patty Griffin 41 - Robyn Hitchcock on Plastic Ono Band by John Lennon 40 - Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) on Transformer by Lou Reed 39 - Harry Hookey on Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan 38 - Rob Draper on Faith by George Michael 37 - Best of 2014 ft. Danny Yau, Andrew Hansen, Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) and Mike Carr 36 - Doug Pettibone on Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris 35 - Ross Ryan on Late for the Sky by Jackson Browne 34 - Michael Carpenter on Hard Promises by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers 33 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on Jesus of Cool by Nick Lowe 32 - Zane Carney on Smokin’ at the Half Note by Wes Montgomery 31 - Tony Buchen on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles 30 - Simon Relf (The Tambourine Girls) on On the Beach by Neil Young 29 - Peter Cooper on In Search of a Song by Tom T Hall 28 - Thelma Plum on Stolen Apples by Paul Kelly 27 - James House on Rubber Soul by the Beatles 26 - Ella Hooper on Let England Shake by PJ Harvey 25 - Abbey Road Special 24 - Alyssa Bonagura on Room for Squares by John Mayer 23 - Luke Davison (The Preatures) on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 22 - Neil Finn on Hunky Dory by David Bowie and In Rainbows by Radiohead 21 - Neil Finn on Beatles for Sale by the Beatles and After the Goldrush by Neil Young 20 - Morgan Evans on Diorama by Silverchair 19 - Emma Swift on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams 18 - Danny Yau on Hourly Daily by You Am I 17 - J Robert Youngtown and Jon Auer (The Posies) on Hi Fi Way by You Am I 16 - Lester the Fierce on Hounds of Love by Kate Bush 15 - Luke Davison on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 14 - Jeff Cripps on Wheels of Fire by Cream 13 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 2) 12 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 1) 11 - Gossling on O by Damien Rice 10 - Matt Fell on Temple of Low Men by Crowded House 9 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 2) 8 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 1) 7 - Sam Hawksley on A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin 6 - Jim Lauderdale on Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons 5 - Mark Moffatt on Blues Breakers by John Mayall and Eric Clapton 4 - Darren Carr on Ten Easy Pieces by Jimmy Webb 3 - Mark Wells on Revolver by The Beatles 2 - Mike Carr on Arrival by ABBA 1 - Rob Draper on Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan

#podcast #lilly hiatt #pearl jam #eddie vedder #mike mccready #stone gossard #jeff ament #jack irons #baba o'riley #neil young #trinity lane

2 notes · View notes

graveyardshift-writer · 7 years

Text

Endearment and Enmity: Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh. Title: Endearment and Enmity Rating: T-M depending on chapter, M overall Summary: When you’re literally married to the person you despise. Warnings: Homosexual relationships,vulgar words and adult situations. Author’s Note: I don’t know why I wrote this.

Chapter 4: Blind Date

Wednesday was Jonouchi’s chosen day off - he worked weekends overtime for the compounded extra pay, since he kept a separate bank account from Kaiba still. He was keeping to himself in the loungeroom on his floor of the mansion. His angry texts to Honda had not yet received a response, so he was sulking over it. He’d already gone to the gym that morning and still his frustration hadn’t been worked off, so he was drowning his sorrow into a bowl of Kappa Ebisen(1), something he’d often indulged in as a teen but didn’t so much anymore (he maintained a healthy diet to keep up with his steadily slowing metabolism).

He was so alone. His sister Shizuka was still giving him the silent treatment over his ‘secret two-year-long relationship’ with Kaiba, Honda wouldn’t respond to his angry text messages (although starting them off with “You asshole” probably wasn’t the best conversation starter choice), Yugi and Anzu were currently in NYC for a Broadway show she was dancing in, Bakura was in Kyoto, and Otogi was too busy parenting to hang out with him, which Jonouchi knew because unlike his husband the dark-haired man was actually willing to respond to his texts.

Kaiba was most likely at work, as far as Jonouchi knew. He didn’t interact with his… spouse, very much. He hadn’t bumped into him in the mansion in three solid days so far. Usually he kept himself entertained with either electronics, are talking to the mansion servants. The main cook was pretty hot so he talked to her often. She had a penchant for short skirts too, which made Jonouchi really, really glad that Kaiba never put forth a dress code for his hired help. Not that he’d do anything with her, for one he would always respect the sanctity of marriage even if he hated who he was married to; and he also knew it would severely displease Kaiba, not because the brunet respected the sanctity of marriage, but because he didn’t want a scandal to make him look bad. For now he was content with looking but not touching.

“You look ridiculous.” He heard all of a sudden - his head snapped to the entrance to the lounge room, where Kaiba stood with his arms crossed. He hadn’t noticed the CEO enter, although it was hard to ever sense the guy coming because he had the lightest steps known to man. Jonouchi scowled - his attire consisted of a green plaid tshirt, which were tucked into blue jeans held up by a brown belt with a big metal buckle, and brown cowboy ankle length cowboy boots (under the jeans).

“Have you ever looked at yourself?” Jonouchi scoffed in return, referring to Kaiba’s overdramatic trench coat and BEWD worship dressing taste - he’d spent so long in Texas he’d adapted to the modern southern style, at least he didn’t do the ten gallon cowboy hat and shiny tassels that some of the older southern men still did. He loved his Red Eyes Black Dragon, sure, it was still his trademark card, but not enough to worship it and dress in tribute to it like a patron god.

“What do you want, Kaiba?” He asked between munches of prawn chips.

“Tonight at six, we’re going to Kozue.” Kaiba announced, because anytime he told the blonde something it was because they were going to do it, no if ands or buts about it.

“Kozue?” Jonouchi echoed, his brain scrambled for a second trying to remember the place he was talking about “…That famous restaurant in Tokyo?”

“Indeed.” The tall brunet clarified, Jonouchi gave him a long stare before speaking.

“…Dude, we’re two hundred mi- I mean, over three-hundred kilometers from Tokyo(2). It’ll take a whole day of driving to get there.” Jonouchi quickly converted from the imperial system of measurement to metric. He almost forgot that Kaiba most likely either didn’t know miles, or was at most rusty with that system.

“I’ll take us in my private jet.” Kaiba reassured in his ever present monotone. The blonde nurse groaned loudly at the thought of that embarrassing dragon themed jet that he remembered Kaiba having when they were younger. It seemed kind of cool when they were teens, but now that they were mature adults he really realized how childish it was. And people called him immature.

“Oh come on, Kaiba. Not after that business banquet we had to go to; I’d serious prefer camping out in duelist kingdom over the torture of another lame product related speech.” Jonouchi grumbled, but as usual his former rival wasn’t the type to negotiate.

“Be ready by five thirty(3).” Kaiba commanded “Put something presentable on.” His eyes narrowed a bit more at the blonde. It was no secret that Kaiba did not approved of the westernized style that he’d picked up. Jonouchi absent-mindedly nodded but said nothing, although he did make his eye-roll as visible and obvious as possible, as the CEO finally left him alone.

Jonouchi looked at the clock - it was only eleven in the afternoon; well shit he still had a lot of time to kill. He looked to his half-empty bowl of kappa ebisen’s, that talk with Kaiba really ruined his stress-eating appetite.

People of Domino, unlike his… spouse, didn’t really care about the way he was dressed, mostly because they were used to seeing American tourists and probably assumed he was one, and they actually minded their own damn business. It was a relief to not be talked down to as he walked the streets of Domino, many of those streets familiar from his late childhood and his teenaged years. He paused when he saw the all-too-familiar Kame Game Shop, one of the most common stops from his past.

Yugi definitely wasn’t there, but his grandfather most likely was, as indicated by the sign on the door which was flipped to the 'open’ side. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jonouchi walked over and stepped into the shop, lo behold the old man indeed was standing behind the counter, talking to one of his customers.

“Gramps?” Jonouchi addressed, not realizing he was speaking English again. Nonetheless it seemed to gain both Sugoroku and the customers attention. The old man lit up at the sight of his grandsons best friend.

“Jonouchi my boy.” Grandpa Motou said with a gruff chuckle as he walked slowly over from behind the counter. He didn’t look too different from how he had eight years earlier, besides his gait and slightly cloudy eyes indicating the fragility of old age. “I wasn’t expecting the visit.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a bit… Busy.” Jonouchi said with a weak grin as he rubbed the back of his own head sheepishly. “I was walking and saw the shop and thought it was finally time to pay another visit.” Oh he had indeed visited before, Sugoroku lived in the game shop alone now, Yugi had moved out and his mother now lived in the countryside with her husband who had finally retired (4). They wanted to take the old man to live with them as was customary, but he refused, he wanted to continue to run his game shop.

“Jonouchi?” The customer inquired, the blonde nurse finally took notice of the man; he had short dark brown hair that was spiked at the edges and had a splash of violet at the middle of his hairline. He had sharp brown eyes with narrow pupils, slightly tanned skin, and stood a few inches under Jonouchi’s height, at maybe 5'8. He was also wearing a cream dress shirt with black slacks, and a dark green tie.

“…Ryuzaki?” He came to the conclusion slowly, and the other man slowly shook his head. It was surprising really, the brunet seemed to have grown out of his awkward phase and wasn’t cringy to look at anymore.

“Ah yes, he’s a frequent customer these days.” Sugoroku told the blond with a gentle smile still intact.

“You… Still duel?” Jonouchi awkwardly asked his old enemy; Ryuzaki used to be highly ranked in the region, up until Yugi and the gang entered the scene with their obsurdly skilled foes, and his popularity dwindled from there along with his running mate Haga.

Ryuzaki looked to the newly acquired card in his hands “Sort of, well, mostly to amuse my kids.”

“YOU have kids?” Okay, that was shocking too. “Well yeah - no! No, not my own.” Ryuzaki quickly and embarrassingly shook his head “My kids as in - I’m a primary school teacher. My students is what I mean.”

Jonouchi nodded at the explanation, this made slightly more sense; although it was still unexpected “Ahhh I see. You and Haga still… friends?” Were they friends or were they rivals? It was hard to tell with those two with their constant arguing.

“We’re more than friends Jonouchi… couldn’t you tell? We’ve been dating since Battle City…” Ryuzaki told him, straightening up his tie. Although the blond did not reply out loud, he couldn’t help but think of something he dare not say aloud, especially in the presence of Yugi’s sweet if old fashioned and very modest grandfather.

'Am I the only guy around here who likes pussy?’

Catching up with Ryuzaki by chatting over a quick half-hearted table duel proved to somehow lift Jonouchi’s spirit from the proverbial dumps they had been in earlier. The runt had indeed grown mature in more than looks. H e worked at the local primary school for students in Grade Three, and many of the ankle-biters loved duel monsters just as they generation of kids before them had. Although the violet-fringed man did not competitively duel anymore, he still taught and played the game during breaks with his students.

Jonouchi spoke about the antics of his coworkers and patients, and things that had happened while he had been schooling, and likewise Ryuzaki did the same but with students rather than patients; they found both groups to be trying at times. They also lamented the struggles of being male in female-dominated occupations, an issue they had a hard time discussing with their male friends, or even female friends if they were in similar situations, as it was quite the… different, experience.

It was refreshing to make a friend again, even if in the form of a former enemy. Speaking of which, it turned out Haga was working as a Entomologist for the local university; and was actually currently lecturing for a semester at Universiti Putra Malaysia, a research university in Seri Kembangan, Malaysia. He’d gotten far in life, that lanky nerd did. According to Ryuzaki, while they did live together they had no children, and did not plan for any, while Ryuzaki (surprisingly) loved children, his partner had very little patience and absolutely no desire for one, and he respected that.

Jonouchi surprised himself when he found himself to be disappointed when Ryuzaki left, mostly because he had seen so little of his friends and family, and didn’t exactly have the most engaging relationship with Kaiba. He was just so… so freaking lonely. The silver lining was that they exchanged numbers and agreed to hang out another time.

“Say, Jonouchi, what brings you to this part of town?” Grandpa Motou asked as he brought his surrogate grandchild a cup of green tea, which the blond thanked him for as he sipped it.

“I just wanted to kill some time before me and Kaiba are going to a restaurant in a bit.” Jonouchi practically muttered, drinking half of the cup in only a few sips..

“A date?” The old man inquired.

“…You can say that, I mean, usually it’s business gatherings. I don’t really make a point to ask Kaiba anymore because either way it’s lame and I don’t get a choice.” The blond complained.

Sugoroku stared at him for a hard minute, which made the nurse feel awkward because he knew that look too well, it was look he’d gotten so many times when he’d asked the old man to teach him how to play duel monsters, and subsequently trained him. “Why do you call him Kaiba?”

“-…” Jonouchi froze, no one ever questioned him calling his… spouse, Kaiba. It was just so natural of him, but he realized how strange it was to call your own significant other by their family name and never their first name, especially after supposedly dating for over two years and getting married. While he could lie about the whole facade no problem, he still had trouble making things up for small details like that. “W-Well uh, you know… it’s just, isn’t very respectful to call him by his first name with people who aren’t on a first-name basis with him too-”

“Are you lying my boy?”

“…” A hand fell on the blond’s shoulder, squeezing it softly but firmly.

“Are there… underlying circumstances to you marrying Kaiba?”

“Gramps…”

“You don’t have to tell me… but, if you’re unhappy, don’t be afraid to admit it. To me, or him. Or yourself.”

“I can’t believe you kept those ridiculous westernized clothes on.” Kaiba told him sharply, not bothering to look back from the steering mechanism of the jet as he scolded him. Honey brown eyes rolled in response, indeed Jonouchi had not bothered to change from what he was wearing earlier, mostly out of spite but partially because he just didn’t feel like changing. “Why are you insisting on trying to embarrass me?”

“…Dude you know I don’t like you right.” Jonouchi muttered; it wasn’t entirely true, he didn’t hate Kaiba or anything, he just didn’t like being bossed around by someone.

“Well you could have pretended to like me long enough for this dinner.” The blue eyed man sharply retorted, still steering his ridiculous jet that Jonouchi had the displeasure of boarding, and soon enough the displeasure of being seen coming out of it.

“Whatever, what kind of business dinner is this anyways? You trying to buy someone out or something?” Jonouchi only really had a vague idea of how business worked, mostly he knew about healthcare management when it came to the subject of business. Big-wig multibillion dollar gaming companies were a whole other topic.

“This isn’t business related, Katsuya.” Kaiba stated, irritated as if he’d just said the most obvious thing to the biggest idiot ever, which was probably how the brunet saw it.

Jonouchi exasperatingly placed his hands into his lap “Then why the hell are we going to some fancy restaurant in Tokyo?” Not that he minded dining on some of the fanciest food in Japan, but being demanded to do anything left a sour taste in his mouth nonetheless, and anytime Kaiba invited him for a meal, something terrible happened. Okay, so it only happened once, but that one terrible thing of ending up hitched was bad enough for him to always be on edge about it.

“Because we’re a married couple, you do realize we have obligations other than business and living arrangements right? Does your undersized brain understand how this process works or has the exposure to the anesthesia caused it to shrink even further.” Well there’s the jerk-Kaiba that Jonouchi knew all too well, but the statement did make the gears in his head slowly turn.

“We're… going on a date?” He had difficulty even suggesting such a thing, oh god he was pretty sure the word date made him throw up a little in his mouth. “That is something that married couples do, Katsuya.” Kaiba stated bluntly, not realizing the effect it had on the other man.

A date? A date with Kaiab of all people? Somehow that was worse than just being married to him, because being his hostage bride so far only required that he live with him and give up his original family name, not actually have to spend time with him for anymore than a few hours a week. Tonight’s sobbing into his pillow wasn’t going to be dry.

TO BE CONTINUED…

(1)Kappa Ebisen (かっぱえびせん) prawn chips by Calbee (2) I imagine that since Domino city has docks, it’d be a coastline city, so I’d say close to the Japanese city of Tsu, which is roughly 198 miles from Tokyo, roughly about 321 kilometers. (3) I don’t know how fast the blue eyes white dragon jet it, but for the hell of it let’s say it’s mach one speed, which travels about 750 miles / 1207 kilometers an hour, they could very well get to Tokyo before six. (4) Yugi’s mother, although never seen in the 4kids dub, lives with Yugi and his grandpa in the game shop. Her husband, Sugoroku’s son, is supposedly always away on business. Authors note: Jonouchi’s negative feelings towards Kaiba are for the most exaggerated for comical purposes, he does in fact not hate Kaaba, but he doesn’t really like him that much either. This discontent could be seen as both of their fault, as Kaiba is work-oriented and Jonouchi won’t even try to get close to him. So Ryuzaki/Rex Raptor makes an appearance, unexpected I know. And apparently him and Haga have been dating this whole time. Will he show up again, and what was the significance of him showing up again? Will anyone else show up or make unexpected appearance? Will Jonouchi ever stop dramatically sobbing into his pillow? Will he and Kaiba ever get along? Is Jonouchi really the only guy in this story who likes vagina?

#kaiba #jonouchi #seto kaiba #seto #katsuya #katsuya jonouchI #jonouchi katsuya #jou #joey wheeler #joey #yugioh #yu-gi-Oh #yu-gi-oh!#puppyshipping #violetshipping #some people call it violetshipping

15 notes · View notes

sapphiclunacookie · 4 years

Text

Sanguine - chapter 10 - Hold Me Tight

"Hoseok awoke to the sun rising and Jeongguk in his arms. The maknae was pale and limp but still breathing faintly. The others were either still in the cave or right outside, never too far from the injured baby."

thank you all for reading, please leave a comment, AND PLEASE SIGN THE PETITIONS AND DONATE TO BLACK LIVES MATTER IF YOU CAN.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236480/chapters/59307220

Hoseok awoke to the sun rising and Jeongguk in his arms. The maknae was pale and limp but still breathing faintly. The others were either still in the cave or right outside, never too far from the injured baby. Hoseok shifted Jeongguk to a better position, with Jeongguk giving a soft, nearly silent moan at the movement. Hoseok made eye contact with Yoongi and Seokjin, while none of them wanted to hear their baby in pain, the fact that he made a noise at all was a good sign that their baby was hanging on. Hoseok shifted Jeongguk into Namjoon's arms and got up. He watched as Namjoon ever so carefully cuddle the baby, his strong arms cradling him gently. As sweet as that moment was, they needed to come up with a new plan. They couldn't leave Jeongguk alone with Namjoon and Taehyung. Tae still couldn't stand without help and nether of the boys had much medical knowledge if something happened. But there was no way in hell that they could defeat a pack without all five of the attackers. So they were stuck, while they would prefer to stay in the cave, protecting their baby until the other tributes died, that wouldn't be a good show, and without a good show, the gamemakers would have to make one. As they sat there pondering the issue of their next steps, several loud cannon shots rang through the arena. Hoseok counted six, but he wasn't sure. There wasn't a long blast so a full pack wasn't dead, but still, the less people in the arena, the better.

•••

After thinking for a while, Bangtan came up with a decent plan. Groups of two or three would patrol the area around the cave and search for tributes near the cave. If the tributes were within shouting distance, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin would attempt to hunt them down. As the others discussed their plan, Namjoon continued holding Jeongguk in his arms. The maknae's face was pale and still, but every time he was in the arms of his hyungs, the pained expression on his face would melt away ever so slightly. Namjoon rubbed tiny little circles into his back to calm the baby. Before finding his hyungs and starting their pack, Namjoon didn't think that anyone would love him as much as his brothers do now. Namjoon watched as the hunters gathered themselves up and began to pose as very dangerous look outs. Jeongguk gave a small groan and everyone whipped their heads around to check on him. Namjoon slowly shifted Jeongguk again while brushing his nearly chin length hair out of his face. The maknae gave one more little moan before falling asleep once again. Namjoon frowned, Jeongguk hasn't opened his eyes since Jimin recused him, and the only signs that he was still alive were his pitiful moans and the small movements of his chest. No one could watch Jeongguk die, not after Yoongi, not after all that this family had been through. Namjoon only asked that after these games, whether they won or lost... that they would all be at peace.

•••

The pack was still waiting for Jimin and Taehyung to come back from hunting. It was long after the sun had set and everyone else was home and waiting for the soulmates to return. Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jeongguk had already eaten at this point, and were almost ready to go to bed. The moon was high in the sky as the pack silently went out to search for the missing two. The only people out during this hour were the sex workers and those looking to buy from them. Yoongi knew in the back of his mind that the two boys could take care of themselves, after all, before Bangtan found them, Jimin and Tae were on their own, taking care of each other pretty decently. Still, the worry for his brothers trumped the logic. The five boys made it to the fence that "blocked" off the forest. In the darkness, on the other side of the fence, Yoongi heard the sounds of someone crying and a muffled scream. The five boys shared a look before climbing the fence and running towards the sounds. They got closer and closer until they came upon Jimin and Taehyung, on the ground, tears staining their faces, and Taehyung's left leg and Jimin's right leg trapped in an old rusty bear trap. The four eldest quickly began trying to remove the trap while Jeongguk started to grab the two soulmates attention in the mean time. Jin and Joon began pulling on one side while Yoongi and Hobi pulled on the other side. Slowly but surely the trap started to come apart. Jeongguk struggled to pull Jimin and Taehyung out of their shared prison while the others continued to pull at the trap. Tae and Jimin tumbled out of the trap with two cries of pain, and fell into their maknae's arms. "Namjoon, put Jimin on your back." Seokjin ordered as did the same with Taehyung. Namjoon did as he was told. Yoongi and Hoseok held Jeongguk's hands as all seven of them walked back to their shack. When they arrived, Jimin and Taehyung's wound's were cleaned and bandaged, with Hoseok and Namjoon being sent out with their savings to buy medicine to treat the tetanus. As the two boy's eyes filled with tears at the thought of wasting their savings, Yoongi hushed them each with a kiss on the forehead and soft words, reminding them that they would never be a waste. The two boys recovered completely, and the only clue to the events were matching scars on each of their legs.

•••

Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin were out hunting. If Taehyung squinted he could catch Hobi in the tree line, but otherwise, they were far away enough to properly search for other packs. Jeongguk was still asleep in Namjoon's arms, which wasn't the safest thing as Namjoon was the only one who could use a weapon, but the others were close enough for a scream to bring them running. Taehyung used the cave wall to slowly and painfully pull him from his standing position. It hurt like hell but he did. Tae then began stumbling worse than a drunk person to a nearby bush of berries. After checking if they were poisonous, (there were a couple bushes in between the edible ones that would kill you in seconds) Taehyung began collecting a handful. He then wobbled back to the cave and took the berries and some water and mashed them on one of the little plastic tarps. He soon created a sugary, liquid paste. He took the little tarp with this paste and shuffled over to Namjoon and Jeongguk. Namjoon had been watching Taehyung with confusion, and he quietly asked Taehyung what he was doing. Taehyung simply smiled and cleaned a few of his fingers with water. He then took his now clean fingers and dipped them into the paste. "Hyung, can you open Ggukie's mouth a little for me?" Namjoon did with confusion still written on his face. Taehyung stuck his paste covered finger into Jeongguk's mouth. Namjoon's eyes widened in understanding. Taehyung was trying to feed the maknae. A light, sugar filled paste would be easy to Gguk to handle and would be easy and nutritious enough for them to make easy and quick. Namjoon patted Tae's head in praise, his dongsang was so smart.

•••

The sun would be setting soon, which means the hunters needed to come back... and wait for the next day of these damned games.

#bts #hunger games #hunger games au #bts au #ot7 #major character injury #tw major character injury #authors on tumblr #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook

0 notes

thefaithlesstheologian · 6 years

Text

The Devil in the Mist

All who live in these valleys live in fear of the Winter Solstice. After the cool of autumn has long faded into callous winter and the countless snowstorms have blanketed all the paths and roads with mattress thick snow, the mist in all of its mystic horror rolls over the villages for its yearly tribute.

The wolves, the harbingers of this mysterious event, are unknown as to their origins. One of the few myths we are told when we are younger is that once the Elves used to roam the mountainsides between the robust pines, their caravans carrying wares and crafts most exotic. One winter, during the solstice a terrible snowstorm fell upon them and they lost sight of their trail, being forced to take up shelter amidst the caves. As many became frostbitten and exposed they began to chant wild prayers to their Gods. Strange as the Elven pantheon is, Evit-tirrian the Night-wolf, transformed the caravan into the horrible, twisted beasts so as to brave the winter and they have remained just as that since.

Yet I’ve never seen a wolf nor Elf around here outside of the solstice.

Another popular tale is that they were born of the mountains themselves. The dwarves in one of their many excursions along the borderlands cut deep into the rock and uncovered an ancient crypt of which the beasts had been trapped in by the divine for millennia.

Yet never has there been a dwarf nor sign of the expeditions.

Yet regardless of their origins, the fact was the same, the wolves, mist, and fear that they brought rattled our village into a frenzy and made us fear the high gray peaks. Few men dare to walk in the mountains, for fear of the wolves. Hunters, forced to travel the crooked paths will only do so after receiving extensive blessing from Father Brelzac and even then they never stray too deep so as to avoid the caves and ruins scattered amidst the crags.

This standard of weary agony had become normal over generations, traditional for our folk and as a result, we adapted to it in what little ways we could.

Once during one such event, I was acting as local constable and had the responsibility of assembling a band of watchmen for when the time came. It would not be my first time with such a hefty responsibility, but it would be my last for greater purpose was granted to me on that evening.

It began as it always had, the week leading up until the yearly culling was filled with hurried carpenters boarding up homes at nominal costs, all the while storefronts became armories selling old firearms from a half a century prior. What little silverware we had and what few valuable heirlooms remained where melted down and turned into bullets, the one thing that could smite the wild monsters.

During this panicked time, I had chosen for the greater part the huntsmen of the village for their experience both in marksmanship and dealing with wily beasts. One exception was poor Gregor, the village blacksmith. He was a stout, burly man with a leathery, tired face. He’d lost his wife to the wolves six years ago and raised his dear son Aston on his own all the while still providing for the entire village. In fact, I had not chosen him myself, intentionally so I’m afraid for this reason, but rather he insisted for weeks to come until I mournfully folded into his request. The day of, he locked Aston in his cellar and joined us in arms.

Our militia, a ruddy ensemble of firearms, mostly old flintlocks and muskets with a few newer rifles as well as my revolver which I’d traded my horse last summer for to a traveling caravan from Lorigav. We then proceeded to procure wood from the surrounding forests and made a square palisade in the village center and fixed a pole from which we strung a rusty old lantern so as to draw the beasts unto us.

The mob of moth-eaten coats watched on as the sky glowed orange and the village grew steadily silent. Father Brezlac came down from his hill and blessed us with incense and prayers before retreating home. Families clung to the darkest corners and cellars of their drafty homesteads, huddling close with whatever weapons they managed to afford or inherit. I only wish that in these times we’d have enough silver to provide to them, for lead disruptive as it is, would only stammer the unholy wolf.

Once the last tinges of the sun’s holy rays departed and the shining snow-drifts faded to gray, we looked to the crown of the mountains high above. Then, as if produced by a volcano, the opaque, grey cloud began to take shape, rising fast and swallowing the horizon. Like a crashing wave, it rolled over the forests, smothering their conical tips in danger and lament, until finally it cascaded into the cobbled streets, between the humble stone cottages and covered us in its cold embrace.

We clung to our weapons and seized our battlements, waiting silently filtering out our own breaths from the void like fog. Gregor quickly lit the lantern, bathing us in a citrine glow which flickered as the metal body swayed on its hook. Moments, agonizing and ceaseless passed much akin to stripping the trunk of a tree, layer by layer.

Suddenly the silence was broken by an uncanny source, the bubbly high-pitched jingle of a child’s laughter reverberated through the street.

“Damn! I thought everyone was locked away!” I said to my watchmen.

“That sounded close” muttered Gregor who stared with a wide expression about him.

In the distance, we saw a small figure shift, prancing and playing without fear. It had golden hair and a fair frame which blended nearly into the veil and I immediately recognized it. “Bloody Hell, is that Aston?” I gasped.

The blacksmith, revolted by the thought lurched forward in terror. “Devos! It is, I have to-“

He started to speak but I cut him off “-I will go after him Gregor, you stay here.” I said, wishing for neither a father to foolishly lose his son nor a son to foolishly lose his father.

“Please! Bring him back safe!” he yelped.

“I will return with him, you have my word,” I said before vaulting the barricade my body rigid with determination. How in the name of Devos and all the Angels he escaped from a locked cellar I may never know. Aston never had a reputation as a troublesome kid, he was quiet, shy, did as he was asked, yet to see him in such a jovial state was unnerving.

I ranged the mist silently not wishing to attract the attention of the hounds relying on little more than my own dilated eyes to see the shifting blankets around me. I seemed to stay just in sight of Aston. “Aston!” I cried out in a hushed tone “Aston, your father is scared for you, come back here!” He appeared deaf to my request and carried on in a sort of wondrous stupor, leading me towards the perimeter of the woods scaling up the side of a snowbank.

As he entered I doubled pace, I would drag the insolent child back home if I had to, for poor Gregor’s sake. My boots crunched and squeaked and I chased after, I made great stride and clasped the boy on the shoulders. At first, he seemed to resist me, trying to carry on as if I weren’t a present force, until I finally turned him around, forcing his pale blue eyes unto me. “Aston! How did you get out of the cellar? Come on do you wish death upon yourself?” I asked him hurriedly starting to tow him back.

“The Stone man has something to show me!” he replied in a loud, cheerful chirp. I was puzzled at his expression, and then noticed the drooping, listless expression of his face.

“This is no game, come and I’ll return you to your father.”

As I enticed him forcefully, the forest erupted with a scattered and wild rhythm. The underbrush bristled and rattled forcing me to seize up and guard over the boy with him in my shadow as I peered the woods watching for the beasts.

Several more agonizing moments passed then from amidst its obscurity a set of gold-stained teeth, sharp and malicious opened wide, lunging for me. With a quick twitch of my revolver’s trigger, I slew the creature with silver and thunder as its beastly mouth bucked skyward and its gnarled, matted fur cradled itself in a pillow of snow at my feet.

I went to resume my quest, but as I turned the boy was absent. I cursed to myself and looked about the ground for any human disturbance. Thankfully the boy’s feet left small impressions and I trod along them kicking aside clumps of ice as I did so. The trunks of the trees seemed to hover as I passed them, their sharp needles extending like the wings of bats.

I was eventually led a sandstone awning presenting itself to me as a sort of square navel in the rock face, from its darkened halls billowed forth the wind’s ghastly echo which moaned in a sort of depraved wail. Steeled only by my promise I entered despite better judgments and I found myself in a large empty chamber with only black fog.

As I moved swiftly whispering out the boy’s name, I heard a tell-tale patter amidst the stone tiles. They scurried about me like rocks thrown against the wall. Readying my weapon I narrowed my sight, catching swift shadows dart about me. I waited, and as soon as one changed its path towards me I discharged a silver bullet straight unto its heart, that is if such grotesque canines could have such a thing. In the flash of the muzzle I could see just beyond a low threshold, the still miraculously unscathed Aston standing indifferent in the presence of a stone statuette perched upon a pedestal.

Another hound charged and under the grace of fire and smoke, he was smitten soon followed by his peers. I trod to the statue’s chamber standing within feet of Aston and found we were flanked by several more of the grey, gnarled wolves. They stood breathing heavily, their barrel-like chests rising and falling as they rested upon peaked shoulders.

Then Aston became alight under a pale energy which seemed to seep forth from its very etching. As it brightened I could see its details in greater magnitude. It was simple, almost cylindrical in its crafting and much reflected the statuettes I had seen in the chapel. Its sharply carved face stared judgmentally at the boy. About the sides of its studded gown were indents that appeared the shape of a crooked knife in one hand and a long branch in the other.

Soon its energy reached its peak and before the boy, a spectral figure appeared. It stood tall over him wearing an ivory tunic casting doubtful eyes upon him. From its back stretched broad snowy wings which simultaneously brought me ease and terror.

Its eyes slithered up to me, their dark pupils sending an icy sensation through my being. “Did you come for the boy?” its voice boomed, vibrating the stones so as to shakes loose dust.

I remained frozen, awed by the angel’s majestic and powerful voice.

“How tragic, but fear not for he has been marked! His purpose is both holy and necessary!”

“What are you doing with him!” I was finally able to shout, wavering in tone.

“He is the price of our protection!”

“What are you-“ before I could finish he became impatient and made one quick spinning motion with his torso, striking the boy. He toppled back with a waterfall of blood pouring from his throat. His eyes were like an insect’s as he choked to death on his own fluids.

“Feast my children! Feast!” It commanded, fading back into the statue. The wolves pounced upon his body, which still desperately clung to life. Their twisted golden teeth ripped at his flesh, severing tendon and sinew. They gnawed on his bones and lapped up pools of blood from around him. Their white fur dyed pink as they gluttonously indulged in their meal.

“No!” I shouted. I quickly executed the creatures and in despondency fell to my knees silently weeping over the torn remains of Aston. With my promise as broken as his body, I could not imagine facing Gregor, especially after such a simple failing. If I had not been so enamored by the divine creature and resorted to acting rather than parlaying perhaps I would have been able to save him, but then what terrible fate could defying such a creature have brought?

I stood up and grabbed at it, trying to pry it intent on throwing it to the ground in anger. Yet, strong as I may be it was cemented to its pedestal and I soon gave up my fury.

I took up the child’s torn body and crept home in shame unmolested by any further creature. As day broke, I lingered on the outskirts, staring at the product of my failure. Lightning struck in my chest and the visage of that statue heckled my very being. Eventually, I marched off and snuck into Gregor’s shop, stealing away his hammer from amidst his tools.

Then, retracing my footsteps I returned to that damned shrine. The bodies of the wolves had vanished, as they often did with the mist. It was then that I noticed in the main chamber, rotted and torn piles of wood and fibers. Amidst them was a banner, bearing two entwined rings upon its surface. Its broken and dirty fabric was strewn over the remains of a humanoid skeleton harboring a tarnished set of plated armor which sheltered the bones a clamshell of metal. Indeed the inquisitor’s remains must have been centuries old, perhaps to the point of the organization’s founding to bear a uniform such as that. Its skull was broad and thick, like that of man’s, while its torso was tall and sturdy

In his hands was an old leather journal, eaten by time. I picked it up, most of the pages had been reduced to pulp and rot, yet a few legible lines remained. From what I could make out was the following:

“Carved a…the angel found us…must save…so cold…Devos save them…betrayed” I could glean little else from it so I carried on with my mission.

I looked the statue in the eyes with a mean expression and with Gregor’s tool in hand I smote it, splitting it into two halves. Not satisfied I gathered the two pieces of the holy relic together and ground it into chunks, then granules and still further into dust. I do not know what good it did, all I know is that I cannot return home. I am unable to face Gregor’s weeping once again, especially in light of my failings. I instead chose to leave his son’s remains in the town center and then I will be away in exile.

However, weep not for me, for this tragedy has gifted me a new, holy purpose. My faith in the angels, now disturbed, is about to perish. Yes, this is the start of a new journey for me, a new war from which I may never return.

I’ve heard legend that one can kill an Angel, the academics in the Republic will tell me how. I must travel to the universities of Lorigav to investigate why an angel would do such a cruel and brutal thing to an innocent, traumatized youth.

0 notes

oliveknt-blog · 7 years

Text

Materials Blog

When I started to think about my senior show I knew two things right off the bat: I wanted to do a project about family and I wanted to work with my hands. My family has always been a huge influence on my art, so the subject matter felt natural and resources plentiful, as for the medium I had to do some serious searching before I finally landed on needlepoint. As a young artist, I always fancied myself an illustrator- I loved drawing and, for a while, I was in the top of my class talent wise. I chose pastels for my concentration during AP art in my Junior year, and I ended up with a five on my portfolio, which somewhat boosted my confidence. Senior year though, I was left without another upper level class to take, so on a whim I signed up for photography. Unlike drawing, I did not have a natural talent for photo, but I welcomed the challenge. I soon found a new love for photo that surpassed my love for drawing- photography was something timeless and perfect. The lens at once captured exactly what you saw and felt in a way that I could never replicate through any other medium. The perfectionist in me rejoiced; I could finally put on paper exactly what I saw and what I wanted the viewer to see without the limitations of my rendering skill. Entering college I felt confident choosing a focus in photography. I took my prerequisite drawing one class first semester and didn’t think much about it again. Last year, second semester I decided to take printmaking both for fun and to fulfill my art elective requirement. It was during that class that I realized what I had given up in abandoning drawing. I had given up a passion and a skill. I no longer possessed the ability to render what I saw in front of me; my drawings were sloppy at best and I again felt the inadequacy that partially led to my giving up the subject in the first place. I was discouraged and kicking myself for not keeping up at leas my sketching, but then I began carving my first wood block and with each stroke I was creating. Every mark was mine and every print felt complete. I realized that more than just drawing I missed the sense of ownership that comes with doing something by hand. Photography is art, I strongly believe that. It requires skill and practice and talent. However, I also believe there is a difference between capturing an image and creating one. Neither one is better or more valuable, but they are different. I had deprived myself for so long of the creating that I felt an overwhelming need to choose a medium other than photography for my senior show. Printmaking was my first idea mainly because I was caught up in the excitement of the class and the thrill of the process, however I quickly realized that my skills may not be up to par after just one class. I also realized that drawing was out of the question since my skills once again were more than rusty. Over spring break I was home with my mom and as a surprise she took me to the needlepoint store and let me pick any project. I had been wanting to re-learn the skill for a while. My grandma taught me when I was really young and then I forgot until my mom found the piece that we had done together while cleaning out her closet. I spent the entire week of spring break needlepointing. I completed my first piece and started two more, shocking the shop owner and prompting her to offer me a summer job. I found something that gave me that sense of ownership and pride, and I was good at it too. Each stitch was a sign of my labor, the hours I spent creating. I could hold the finished product, feel the different fibers, see the subtle color variations and changes in texture. I became an addict. When the year ended though, I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do for my senior show and needlepoint was not even on my list of possibilities. I was still trying to make photography work, but I was having a hard time finding a way to do a project on my family without it becoming documentary-esq. Then one day a light bulb clicked- what better way to talk about tradition and family then through an actual tradition- through needlepoint. I was working at the needle bug at the time so it became my mission to learn as much about the art as possible. I listened in on the conversations during the Wednesday afternoon stitch-ins, I spent a little too long looking at the pieces coming back from the finishers, I learned the stock like the back of my hand during inventory, and most importantly I kept on stitching. As my project has progressed, my medium has become even more integral to my artist statement. Not only is needlepoint a tradition within the family, but it is a direct link to my Grandmother, who is now the focal point of my project. When I stitch I feel connected to her through a medium that she practiced her whole life. I can imagine her sitting with me stitching for hours while chatting an listening to music. I look at the needlepoint stockings that hang on our fireplace with a new appreciation; my Grandma stitched a stocking for each of her children and their spouses, but she didn’t stop there. Grandma took it upon herself to teach my mom, her daughter in law, to needlepoint when she got engaged to my dad. One of my mom’s first pieces was a stocking for our dog, Maggie, and then soon after a stocking for me. My Grandmother passed on the tradition because it was important to her, but also because it was a way to incorporate my mother into the family and make her feel like a part of the tradition that binds us to generations. I appreciate the effort it took on both parts to teach/learn such a tedious skill and, to me, it represents an effort to become family. I wanted to be a part of that as well. I also think the time aspect is important in its own respect. The project is a chance for me to let go of the anger I have harbored against my Grandmother since her death by learning more about her life and her as a person, it is therapeutic in a sense. Needlepoint is an art that takes time, there is no way around it. Stitching is methodical and tedious, but it is also healing. It is not something that can be done in anger or the heat of the moment, it requires thought. The more I meditate on the project, the more I am able to let go of resentment.

As a quick recap- I started out with needlepoint as a fun hobby then I chose it for my senior show because I was desperate to do something with my hands, and I thought it was a cool tie in with the traditional element of family. As my project has progressed I have found it to me more integral that I thought as a direct connection with my Grandmother, a symbol of our family tradition and unity, and a meditative experience/ tribute to my Grandma.

0 notes

aurriii · 7 years

Text

20 Books For Rusty Readers Recommended By Reddit Users

Been a while since you’ve read a book that wasn’t forced upon you by a high school english teacher? Here are 20 favorites that will make picking up a book again totally worth it.

1. The Martian by Andy Weir

kkibe

I loved the Martian by Andy Weir. It’s an easy read (350 pgs) and is bloody hilarious. There isn’t a single boring moment in the novel. Definitely recommended.

2. Fight Club By Chuck Palahniuk

As someone who only reads casually for entertainment I’ll add my two cents. I find chuck palahniuk’s books to be the perfect mix of entertaining and intelligent. Very funny and untraditional–he’s the guy who wrote Fight Club.

3. Welcome to the Monkey House by Kurt Vonnegut

vtechru_2010

Kurt vonnegut is my suggestion too. “Welcome to the Monkey house” is a bunch of his short stories and are great reads!

4. Nine Stories By J.D. Salinger

reverseswang

If you haven’t read a novel in more than a decade, why not start with a collection of short stories? For example, Nine Stories by JD Salinger. Short, satisfying reads, and gorgeous prose, without the investment level that’s needed for following the plot of a full-length novel.

5. Franny And Zooey By J.D. Salinger

katherkelly

Definitely. Also after read Franny and Zooey. Also a Salinger novel but short in length and intertwines a bit with some of the short stories.

6. And Then There Were None By Agatha Christie

fzw

Agatha Christie. She’s surprisingly easy to read. “And Then There Were None” is amazing.

Other than that, reading short books will get you going.

7. Murder On The Orient Express By Agatha Christie

goodmorning81

And Then There Were None and ”Murder on the Orient Express” are the two best-plotted books I have ever and probably will ever read. Dame Agatha was a genius.

8. East of Eden By John Steinbeck

khanbila

If you want a book that will throw you into the literature world, and I think is pretty approachable as a more pretentious book, John Steinbeck’s East of Eden is really a good read.

9. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Sevasaur

Check out The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Not really self help per se, it’s a fictional story with a motivational slant. Quick & easy read.

10. Jurassic Park By Michael Crichton

Ebola_Burrito

Jurassic Park. 450 pages or so. Quick and gripping read. Very different from the movie and I find the book to be far superior.

11. Ender’s Game By Orson Scott Card

ZombieChrist

Ender’s Game. Not a long read, keeps you interested, and there are sequels if you like it, but the story in this book alone is complete.

12. Gone By Michael Grant

Lenaballerina 951 points 5 months ago

I always suggest that people start with young adult fantasy. They tend to be written fairly simply, are shorter, so fast paced, but tend not to have the teenaged annoyingness that normal YA fiction can have. Gone by Michael Grant is a good one and I Am Number Four.

13. I Am Number Four By Pittacus Lore

dangondark

I am number four was such a great book

Don’t watch the movie though, just don’t do it

14. Watership Down By Richard Adams

RAND0M-HER0

Watership Down

Such a beautiful book, one of my favorites.

15. Ready Player One By Ernest Cline

Hisoo

I absolutely loved Ready Player One. It’s well-written and not too long which was perfect as I hadn’t read anything for quite some time.

Bjergkvist

Ready Pl

If you like 80’s pop culture, or even if you were born back then, it’s a lot of fun too. I’ve heard a lot of people thought there were too many 80’s references, but i really enjoyed it.

16. The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy By Douglas Adams

khanbila

Douglas Adams, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. It proves that a book doesn’t have to be a stuffy tribute to prose.

17. Mistborn By Brandon Sanderson

beer_engineer

Mistborn is so, so good. I can’t recommend that trilogy enough for anyone even remotely interested in fantasy books.

18. Dresden Files By Jim Butcher

I cannot recommend The Dresden Files enough.

A Wizard Detective (possible pyromaniac) with the dress sense of a cowboy in modern day Chicago get the shit kicked out of him and proceeds to crack a sarcastic joke at his apparent executioner.

Lots of fun to be had in the series. Each book isn’t too long

19. The Neverending Story By Michael Ende

mus_maximus

Michael Ende, The Neverending Story. I have to recommend this book to everyone. My soul demands it. It was my big, beautiful, joyful introduction to reading as a kid, and despite being written for children, presents a fantastic world of universal appeal. If imagination is drawing you back into reading, then The Neverending Story will be a joy to you.

20. The Handmaid’s Tale By Margaret Atwood

izzidora

The Handmaid’s Tale is one of my favorite books of all time

from Textbook Case | Bigwords.com http://ift.tt/2tlTDNC via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Textbook Case | Bigwords.com

0 notes

staircaseenthusiast · 7 years

Text

Elevator to hell

DISCLAIMER: I have not experienced anything like this in real life. I wrote this excerpt when I was 18 years old and it was the current situation of my mind. Considering the nature of my blog and its dedication, I would refrain from re-posting about posts like this but, I think its fine to incorporate what I have lived through. If there is a stairway to heaven then, there is an elevator to hell as well. The content of the following post is highly metaphorical in nature and it is what my 18 year old mind perceived at the moment! This is my metaphorical, visual and figurative approach on depression that i had.

“Does the sun ever know how to be merciful?” I complaint as I swiped the sweat dripping down from my forehead, “I would rather stay hidden in the deep shadows than to step out in the sun”, I said that out loud to openly express my frustration.

It was one scorching afternoon, when I left my home with the intention of delivering documents to a given address. The address and the documents were provided by the person that I have known for a considerable amount of time. The intensity of the warmth of sun signified as if the Day of Judgment is right around the corner and it has lowered itself in the tribute of that one ordained and intended day. I took a cab and I asked the driver to steer the car in the direction of the address that was given to me. Of course, the cab driver, an aged man, showed pure intentions towards his customers and executive substantial customer care. He seemed far away from those kinds of drivers, who would raise their voices against the customers, who would bargain over the fare of the cab. Long story short, I reached my destination within the shortest span of time, paid my fares and showed gratefulness towards the old driver and I left the cab with the documents firmly held in my hands.

When I looked around and saw that my destination was a plaza, and it was far from being the plaza that any sane person let alone an unaccompanied girl would even dare to look at or go in. I take keen interest in situations where I am aware that this wouldn’t be the right thing to do, and when I crossed the threshold of the plaza, I could feel my gut struggling and screaming for help inside of me. I could hear my inner-conscience begging me to run, pleading me to turn back and take a cab, no matter how much the fare would be and run for my life. My inner conscience has implored to me before but being the obstinate, mulish and obdurate individual that I am, I added further more steps. The entire plaza was vacant but I saw some people moving around and by the appearance of their dressing, it emerged that they have no home to live, no shelter beyond their heads and beds to lie in and relax in. By the appearance of their behavior, it seemed like they were residing in the basements of this vacant plaza and it turned out that the basement of the plaza is the place where they reside, eat, sleep, waste their time and hence, live. I should have considered it as a sign to turn around and run away at the speed of light but, what about the documents?

My objective was to go to the second floor of the plaza, and I thought to take the staircase, as I am a staircase enthusiast but it was a scorching day and I felt the need to take the elevator, even when I know how much the elevators freak me out. By the time I entered the building, I was already breathless and if I were to take the staircase, I would no indubitably conk out on the staircase and I couldn’t risk attempting that. I was beyond petrified and my guts’ scream had partially deafened me by that time. So, out of disconsolateness, I took a burdened step towards the rusty elevator, which seemed like has been deprived of services and renovation since a decade. With a breath of reluctance, I took another loaded step towards the elevator and out of a maddened state, I pushed the button at last.

The building consisted of five, on ground, levels and I was required to be on level 2. The elevator seemed to stuck at M1, which is supposed to be in the basement and suddenly I could feel chills running down my spine, despite of the fact that the sun was burning outside and I could feel goosebumps creeping on to my skin. Out of nervousness and overwhelming fear, I pushed the button again and turned around and stared blankly at the exit gate, where the sun was burning and causing unconsciousness among the feeble people but, at that moment, it seemed like a sanctuary. And ta-da!, finally the elevator viciously opened its door and let me in and I instantly pushed level 2, which was apparently smudged and no one seemingly never bothered to paint fresh numbers over it. I expected the elevator to take to directly to level 2, as no one in the building would want to use a tarnished and ineffectual elevator, but suddenly I could feel the elevator going down and it reached the bottom-most portion of the building and the doors of the elevator opened, ostensibly to invite another human being inside the electrical carriage, but there was no shadow of a sane human being in the sight. Now, I am aware of the human anatomy and I am aware that which organ is positioned where and what kind of protective membranes and bones they are surrounded with, but I could feel my heart in my throat, yearning to come out and splatter itself on the elevator floor. I fidgeted and fiddled on the buttons and with the complexion of a ghost, I stowed myself against the walls of the elevator and hoped for the best and I hoped for an escape. I was frightened enough to find the way to the ground level and run away and never come back—just like my concise pleaded me to. The elevator tricked me again and took me to the fourth level of the building, this time I could feel a loop forming in my stomach and I could pledge that it was far from being a sober reality, that, it could be one of my worst terrifying nightmares. I was rest assured that I would spend an eternity, moving up and down in the estranged elevator, alienated from the world and the sun. I know how I have mocked my olive complexion and fancied for a fair complexion, but at that frame of time, when my skin was becoming paler and paler, defeating the characterized ghosts we have been on groundless dramas but, the color of the shroud, I stared at my hands and wished for them to be of olive complexion again.

The elevators kept on moving up and down in circumlocutions and I crawled into the corner of the elevator and waited for it to stop at the ground level but the elevator kept on moving up and down without a halt. It felt like I got entrapped in a limbo and the only way out is to run but to run away, I needed the elevator to stop—it would stop at various levels, drift open apart and let the eternal hush in, until the doors of the elevator hugged again and jeer at me for being a sore underdog.

I accurately remember that, when I stepped in, the elevator had no mirror on its charcoal walls but, when I decided to get up and pace around, the charcoal walls were suddenly replaced with mirrors, one side of which was completely shattered but it showed a clear visual. On the contrary, the crack-less mirrors showed a distorted image. I pondered to myself that what if I smash the mirror into pieces, maybe I will have a sharper visualization. Deprived from food and water, exhausted to infinity and the beyond but out of desperation, I took a quick blow to the mirror and expected it to be shattered all over the elevator floor but, my initial turned out to be a limp blunder. I turned around and saw my reflection in the shattered mirror and saw a razor-sharp visual of mine, sitting and laughing on the staircase—and I am fascinated by the staircase. Seeking inspiration from what I just saw, I took another blow to the mirror and I could feel the pieces falling against my hands, when the mirror met its demise and I could see a clearer picture in the shattered mirror. My lungs had almost given up out of asphyxiation and claustrophobia, but at that moment, I felt victorious and that I could still find an escape.

When the door of the elevator renounced themselves at level two, which was my intended level, I was expecting for a departed soul and guide me out from here but, instead I saw a fire place, which flames burning in it. I finally stepped out and of course, I remember why I came here in the first place. Taking advantage of the occasion, I tore the documents that brought me into the elevator to hell in the first place and threw them in the fireplace. When the pieces of papers were turned into ashes, I could feel the trap around me letting me go of its atrocious grip and begging me for forgiveness, which I was too well-versed not to give. I was out of the woods, out of the elevator to hell, and out in the sun, which I was despising for its scorching heat but, it felt like my freedom, my sanctuary.

0 notes

mrjeremydylan · 7 years

Text

My Favorite Album #222 - Whispertown on Sugar Pie DeSanto ‘Down in the Basement: The Chess Years’

The core of the dreamy, ethereal LA outfit Whispertown, frontwoman and songwriter Morgan Nagler and guitarist/producer Jake Bellows, on the inspiration of soul legend Sugar Pie Desanto - how the Californian raised singer-songwriter carved out her space in the Chess Records R&B empire, why this is the best record to put on at any party, how Morgan would’ve handled operating in the early 60s and the way Jake transformed the conventional understanding of a rhythm section on the new Whispertown LP.

Listen in the player above or download the episode by clicking here.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts here or in other podcasting apps by searching ‘My Favorite Album’ or copying/pasting our RSS feed -http://myfavoritealbum.libsyn.com/rss

If you’ve got any feedback or suggestions, drop us a line at [email protected].

LINKS

- Whispertown on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and iTunes.

- Buy ‘Down in the Basement’ here.

- Jeremy Dylan’s website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook page.

- Like the podcast on Facebook here.

- If you dig the show, please leave a rating or review of the show on iTunes here.

CHECK OUT OUR OTHER EPISODES

221. Aaron Lee Tasjan on The Beatles ‘Revolver’ (1966) 220. Jon Cryer on Radiohead ‘OK Computer’ (1997) 219. Neil Innes on The Mothers of Invention ‘We’re Only In It for the Money’ (1968) 218. Gold Class on the Dirty Three ‘Ocean Songs’ (1998) 217. Julian Velard on Billy Joel ‘Turnstiles’ (1976) 216. Courtney Marie Andrews on Bob Dylan ‘Blood on the Tracks’ (1975) 215. Anita Lester on Leonard Cohen ‘Song of Love and Hate’ (1971) 214. Meet Me In The Bathroom author Lizzy Goodman on Yeah Yeah Yeahs ‘Fever to Tell’ (2003) 213. JAY-Z biographer Zack O'Malley Greenburg on JAY-Z ‘Reasonable Doubt’ (1996) 212. #BeatlesMonth Wall Street Journal’s Allan Kozinn on how ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’ broke the Beatles in America and the anatomy of an iconic hit 211. #BeatlesMonth Conan’s Jimmy Vivino on the Sgt Pepper remixes and recreating the intricacies of the Beatles with the Fab Faux 210. #BeatlesMonth Heartbreaker Benmont Tench on playing with Ringo, the Beatles RnB roots and the genius of ‘No Reply’ 209. #BeatlesMonth Ken Levine on ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ (1967) 208. All Our Exes Live In Texas on Rufus Wainwright ‘Want’ (2004) 207. Eilish Gilligan on Counting Crows ‘August and Everthing After’ (1993) 206. Katie Brianna on Rilo Kiley ‘Under the Blacklight’ (2007) 205. Pegi Young on her biggest influences, from Janis to Joni, Clapton to the Dead 204. Margaret Glaspy on Bjork ‘Vespertine’ (2001) 203. Iluka on Marvin Gaye ‘What’s Going On’ (1971) 202. Veronica Milsom (triple J) on The Shins ‘Wincing the Night Away’ (2007) 201. Charles Esten on Bruce Springsteen ‘Born to Run’ (1975) 200. What’s Your Favorite Aussie Music? with Benmont Tench, Duglas T Stewart, Natalie Prass, Sam Palladio and Jeff Greenstein 199. Showrunner Jeff Lieber on Gregory Alan Isakov ‘The Weatherman’ and how music fuels his writing process 198. Jack Colwell on Tori Amos ‘Boys for Pele’ (1996) 197. Benmont Tench on playing with Bob Dylan, Jenny Lewis and Ryan Adams and the worst advice he’s received 196. Ella Thompson (Dorsal Fins, GL) on Renee Geyer ‘Moving On’ 195. The Shires on Lady Antebellum ‘Own the Night’ (2011) 194. Duglas T Stewart (BMX Bandits) on Beach Boys ‘Love You’ (1977) 193. Dan Soder on Queens of the Stone Age ‘Like Clockwork’ (2013) 192. Kingswood on The Beatles ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ (1967) 191. Comedian Becky Lucas on Michael Jackson ‘Bad’ (1987) 190. PVT on Brian Eno ‘Another Green World’ (1975) 189. Middle Kids on My Brightest Diamond ‘Bring Me The Workhorse’ (2006) 188. The Bitter Script Reader on Tom Hanks ‘That Thing You Do’ (1996) 187. Carly Rae Jepsen ‘Emotion’ (2015) with CRJ Dream Team Roundtable 186. Sarah Belkner on Peter Gabriel ‘So’ (1986) 185. Mark Hart (Crowded House, Supertramp) on XTC ‘Drums and Wires’ (1979) 184. Emma Swift on Marianne Faithfull ‘Broken English’ (1974) 183. Owen Rabbit on Kate Bush ‘Hounds of Love’ (1985) 182. Robyn Hitchcock on Bob Dylan ‘Blonde on Blonde’ (1966) 181. Dave Mudie (Courtney Barnett) on Nirvana ‘Nevermind’ (1991) 180. Brian Koppelman on Bruce Springsteen ‘Nebraska’ (1982) 179. Nicholas Allbrook (POND) on OutKast ‘The Love Below’ (2003) 178. 2016 in Review: What the hell? ft Jeff Greenstein, Rob Draper & Cookin on 3 Burners, Melody Pool, Lisa Mitchell, Emma Swift, Brian Koppelman, Mark Hart (Crowded House), Davey Lane and Alex Lahey 177. Harper Simon on The Beatles ‘White Album’ (1968) 176. Andrew P Street on Models ‘Pleasure of Your Company’ (1983) 175. Matt Farley (Motern Media) on why The Beach Boys ‘Love You’ is better than ‘Pet Sounds’ 174. Lisa Mitchell on Regina Spektor ‘Begin to Hope’ (2006) and her favorite albums of 2016 173. Peter Bibby on Sleep ‘Dopesmoker’ (2003) 172. Slate’s Jack Hamilton on Stevie Wonder ‘Innervisions’ (1973) 171. Showrunner Blake Masters on Drive-By Truckers ‘The Dirty South’ (2004) 170. Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes) on on their new album ‘We’re All Gonna Die’, loving LA and the albums that inspire him 169. Sadler Vaden on The Rolling Stones ‘Goats Head Soup’ (1973) 168. Guy Clark biographer Tamara Saviano on ‘Dublin Blues’, Guy’s songwriting process and his musical legacy 167. What does Trump mean for music? 166. A Tribute to Sir George Martin, The Fifth Beatle with Davey Lane and Brett Wolfie 165. John Oates on Joni Mitchell ‘Blue’ (1971) 164. Jimmy Vivino on the birth of the Max Weinberg 7, his relationship with Conan O’Brien, country music and the future of rock’n’roll 163. DJ Alix Brown on Transformer (1972) by Lou Reed 162. Taylor Locke on Doolittle (1989) by the Pixies, the album that inspired 90s alt-rock 161. Harts on Around the World in a Day (1985) by Prince and jamming with Prince at Paisley Park 160. Mark McKinnon (The Circus) on Kristofferson and programming the President’s iPod 159. Alan Brough on A Walk Across the Rooftops (1984) by The Blue Nile 158. Peter Cooper on Pretty Close to the Truth (1994) and why we need Americana music 157. Will Colvin (Hedge Fund) on One of the Boys by Katy Perry (2008) 156. Julia Jacklin on Extraordinary Machine by Fiona Apple (2005) 155. Japanese Wallpaper on Currents by Tame Impala (2015) 154. Montaigne on her album Glorious Heights (2016) and its inspirations 153. Alex Lahey on Hot Fuss by the Killers (2004) 152. Jack Moffitt (The Preatures) on Physical Graffiti by Led Zeppelin (1975) 151. Mike Bloom on Axis Bold As Love by Jimi Hendrix (1968) 150. Hey Geronimo on Drowning in the Fountain of Youth by Dan Kelly (2006) 149. Mickey Raphael on Teatro by Willie Nelson (1998) 148. Jack Ladder on Suicide by Suicide 147. Rusty Anderson on Hot Rats by Frank Zappa 146. Kenny Aronoff on The Beatles 145. Bob Evans on A Grand Don’t Come for Free by The Streets 144. Chris Hewitt (Empire) on New Adventues in Hi-Fi by REM 143. Dr Warren Zanes on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 142. Dr Mark Kermode (Wittertainment) on Sleep No More by the Comsat Angels 141. Van Dyke Parks on Randy Newman by Randy Newman 140. Imogen Clark on Heartbreaker by Ryan Adams 139. Jesse Thorn on Fresh by Sly and the Family Stone 138. Stephen Tobolowsky on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars by David Bowie 137. Ben Blacker on Blood and Chocolate on Elvis Costello & the Attractions 136. Jonny Fritz on West by Lucinda Williams 135. Adam Busch on A River Ain’t Too Much to Love by Smog 134. Kelsea Ballerini on Blue Neighbourhood by Troye Sivan 133. Natalie Prass on Presenting Dionne Warwick 132. Josh Pyke on Badmotorfinger by Soundgarden 131. Kip Moore on Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen 130. Koi Child on Voodoo by D’Angelo 129. The Cadillac Three on Wildflowers by Tom Petty 128. Julian McCullough on Appetite for Destruction by Guns n Roses 127. Danny Clinch on Greetings from Ashbury Park NJ by Bruce Springsteen 126. Sam Palladio (Nashville) on October Road by James Taylor 125. Steve Mandel on Blood and Chocolate by Elvis Costello 124. Brian Koppelman on The History of the Eagles 123. Benmont Tench on Beggars Banquet by the Rolling Stones 122. Jimmy Vivino (Basic Cable Band) on Super Session by Al Kooper, Mike Bloomfield and Stephen Stills 121. Holiday Sidewinder on Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid by Bob Dylan 120. Ben Blacker on Aladdin Sane by David Bowie 119. EZTV on The Toms by The Toms 118. Jess Ribeiro on Transformer by Lou Reed 117. Whitney Rose on Keith Whitley Greatest Hits 116. Best Albums of 2015 with Danny Yau ft. Jason Isbell, Dan Kelly, Shane Nicholson, Tim Rogers, Will Hoge and Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala) 115. Phil Spector’s A Christmas Gift For You with Jaime Lewis 114. Xmas Music ft. Kristian Bush, Lee Brice, Corb Lund and Tim Byron 113. Sam Outlaw on Pieces of the Sky by Emmylou Harris 112. Jason Isbell on Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones 111. Ash Naylor (Even) on Houses of the Holy by Led Zeppelin 110. Burke Reid (Gerling) on Dirty by Sonic Youth 109. Lance Ferguson (The Bamboos) on Kind of Blue by Miles Davis 108. Lindsay ‘The Doctor’ McDougall (Frenzal Rhomb) on Curses! by Future of the Left 107. Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala) on Chrominance Decoder by April March 106. Melody Pool on Blue by Joni Mitchell 105. Rusty Hopkinson (You Am I) on ‘Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era’ 104. Jeff Greenstein on A Quick One (Happy Jack) by The Who 103. Dave Cobb on Revolver by the Beatles 102. Justin Melkmann (World War IX) on Coney Island Baby by Lou Reed 101. Kacey Musgraves on John Prine by John Prine 100. Does the album have a future? 99. Corb Lund on Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs by Marty Robbins 98. Bad Dreems on Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division 97. Davey Lane (You Am I) on Abbey Road by the Beatles 96. Dan Kelly on There’s A Riot Goin’ On by Sly and the Family Stone 95. Ash Grunwald on Mule Variations by Tom Waits 94. Stella Angelico on The Shangrilas 93. Eves the Behavior on Blue by Joni Mitchell 92. Troy Cassar-Daley on Willie Nelson’s Greatest Hits 91. Lydia Loveless on Pleased to Meet Me by the Replacements 90. Gena Rose Bruce on The Boatman’s Call by Nick Cave 89. Kitty Daisy and Lewis on A Swingin’ Safari by Bert Kaempfert 88. Will Hoge on Modern Sounds in Country & Western Music by Ray Charles 87. Shane Nicholson on 52nd St by Billy Joel 86 - Tired Lion on Takk… by Sigur Ros 85 - Whispering Bob Harris on Forever Changes by Love 84 - Jake Stone (Bluejuice) on Ben Folds Five by Ben Folds Five 83 - Pete Thomas (Elvis Costello and the Imposters) on Are You Experienced? by the Jimi Hendrix Experience 82 - Dom Alessio on OK Computer by Radiohead 81 - Anthony Albanese MP on The Good Son by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds 80 - John Waters on Electric Ladyland by The Jimi Hendrix Experience 79 - Jim DeRogatis (Sound Opinions) on Clouds Taste Metallic by The Flaming Lips 78 - Montaigne on The Haunted Man by Bat for Lashes 77 - Guy Pratt (Pink Floyd) on Quadrophenia by The Who 76 - Homer Steinweiss (Dap Kings) on Inspiration Information by Shuggie Otis 75 - Best of 2015 (So Far) ft. Danny Yau, Montaigne, Harts, Joelistics, Rose Elinor Dougall and Burke Reid 74 - Matt Farley (Motern Media) on RAM by Paul McCartney BONUS - Neil Finn on The Beatles, Neil Young, David Bowie and Radiohead 73 - Grace Farriss (Burn Antares) on All Things Must Pass by George Harrison 72 - Katie Noonan on Blue by Joni Mitchell 71 - Harts on Band of Gypsys by Jimi Hendrix 70 - Tim Rogers (You Am I) on Bring the Family by John Hiatt 69 - Mark Seymour (Hunters and Collectors) on The Ghost of Tom Joad by Bruce Springsteen 68 - Jeremy Neale on Graceland by Paul Simon 67 - Joelistics on Graceland by Paul Simon 66 - Brian Nankervis (RocKwiz) on Astral Weeks by Van Morrison 65 - ILUKA on Pastel Blues by Nina Simone 64 - Rose Elinor Dougall on Tender Buttons by Broadcast 63 - Sarah McLeod (The Superjesus) on Siamese Dream by The Smashing Pumpkins 62 - Keyone Starr on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill 61 - Chase Bryant on Defying Gravity by Keith Urban 60 - Brian Koppelman on Southeastern by Jason Isbell 59 - Michael Carpenter on The Beatles White Album Side 4 58 - Pete Kilroy (Hey Geronimo) on The Beatles White Album Side 3 57 - Mark Wells on The Beatles White Album Side 2 56 - Jeff Greenstein on Colossal Youth by Young Marble Giants 55 - Laura Bell Bundy on Shania Twain, Otis Redding and Bright Eyes 54 - Jake Clemons on Surfacing by Sarah McLachlan 53 - Kristian Bush (Sugarland) on The Joshua Tree by U2 52 - Kevin Bennett (The Flood) on Willis Alan Ramsey by Willis Alan Ramsey 51 - Lee Brice on Unorthodox Jukebox by Bruno Mars 50 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on the White Album (Side 1) by The Beatles 49 - Joe Camilleri on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 48 - Russell Morris on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 47 - Mike Rudd (Spectrum) on England’s Newest Hitmakers by The Rolling Stones 46 - Henry Wagons on Harvest by Neil Young 45 - Megan Washington on Poses by Rufus Wainwright 44 - Andrew Hansen (The Chaser) on Armchair Theatre by Jeff Lynne 43 - She Rex on BlakRoc by The Black Keys 42 - Catherine Britt on Living with Ghosts by Patty Griffin 41 - Robyn Hitchcock on Plastic Ono Band by John Lennon 40 - Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) on Transformer by Lou Reed 39 - Harry Hookey on Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan 38 - Rob Draper on Faith by George Michael 37 - Best of 2014 ft. Danny Yau, Andrew Hansen, Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) and Mike Carr 36 - Doug Pettibone on Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris 35 - Ross Ryan on Late for the Sky by Jackson Browne 34 - Michael Carpenter on Hard Promises by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers 33 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on Jesus of Cool by Nick Lowe 32 - Zane Carney on Smokin’ at the Half Note by Wes Montgomery 31 - Tony Buchen on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles 30 - Simon Relf (The Tambourine Girls) on On the Beach by Neil Young 29 - Peter Cooper on In Search of a Song by Tom T Hall 28 - Thelma Plum on Stolen Apples by Paul Kelly 27 - James House on Rubber Soul by the Beatles 26 - Ella Hooper on Let England Shake by PJ Harvey 25 - Abbey Road Special 24 - Alyssa Bonagura on Room for Squares by John Mayer 23 - Luke Davison (The Preatures) on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 22 - Neil Finn on Hunky Dory by David Bowie and In Rainbows by Radiohead 21 - Neil Finn on Beatles for Sale by the Beatles and After the Goldrush by Neil Young 20 - Morgan Evans on Diorama by Silverchair 19 - Emma Swift on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams 18 - Danny Yau on Hourly Daily by You Am I 17 - J Robert Youngtown and Jon Auer (The Posies) on Hi Fi Way by You Am I 16 - Lester the Fierce on Hounds of Love by Kate Bush 15 - Luke Davison on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 14 - Jeff Cripps on Wheels of Fire by Cream 13 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 2) 12 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 1) 11 - Gossling on O by Damien Rice 10 - Matt Fell on Temple of Low Men by Crowded House 9 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 2) 8 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 1) 7 - Sam Hawksley on A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin 6 - Jim Lauderdale on Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons 5 - Mark Moffatt on Blues Breakers by John Mayall and Eric Clapton 4 - Darren Carr on Ten Easy Pieces by Jimmy Webb 3 - Mark Wells on Revolver by The Beatles 2 - Mike Carr on Arrival by ABBA 1 - Rob Draper on Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan

#podcast #whispertown #jake bellows #morgan nagler #sugarpie desanto #sugar pie desanto #etta james #chess records #rnb

3 notes · View notes

mrjeremydylan · 7 years

Text

My Favorite Album #221 - Aaron Lee Tasjan on The Beatles ‘Revolver’ (1966)

Aaron Lee Tasjan followed the classic well worn path to Americana stardom - starting 150 bands, playing guitar with the New York Dolls, sticking sequins onto his own suits and micro dosing for songwriting inspiration.

He joins me to talk about the album that taught him to play guitar - The Beatles uber-classic ‘Revolver’. We talk about the Beatles eternal mission to top their latest groundbreaking recordings, what it would’ve been like to hear these songs new when they first were released, the diversity of influences on both Aaron and the Beatles (and the impact that has on their music) and more.

Listen in the player above or download the episode by clicking here.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts here or in other podcasting apps by searching ‘My Favorite Album’ or copying/pasting our RSS feed -http://myfavoritealbum.libsyn.com/rss

If you’ve got any feedback or suggestions, drop us a line at [email protected].

LINKS

- Aaron Lee Tasjan on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and iTunes.

- Buy ‘Revolver’ here.

- Jeremy Dylan’s website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook page.

- Like the podcast on Facebook here.

- If you dig the show, please leave a rating or review of the show on iTunes here.

CHECK OUT OUR OTHER EPISODES

220. Jon Cryer on Radiohead ‘OK Computer’ (1997) 219. Neil Innes on The Mothers of Invention ‘We’re Only In It for the Money’ (1968) 218. Gold Class on the Dirty Three ‘Ocean Songs’ (1998) 217. Julian Velard on Billy Joel ‘Turnstiles’ (1976) 216. Courtney Marie Andrews on Bob Dylan ‘Blood on the Tracks’ (1975) 215. Anita Lester on Leonard Cohen ‘Song of Love and Hate’ (1971) 214. Meet Me In The Bathroom author Lizzy Goodman on Yeah Yeah Yeahs ‘Fever to Tell’ (2003) 213. JAY-Z biographer Zack O'Malley Greenburg on JAY-Z ‘Reasonable Doubt’ (1996) 212. #BeatlesMonth Wall Street Journal’s Allan Kozinn on how ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’ broke the Beatles in America and the anatomy of an iconic hit 211. #BeatlesMonth Conan’s Jimmy Vivino on the Sgt Pepper remixes and recreating the intricacies of the Beatles with the Fab Faux 210. #BeatlesMonth Heartbreaker Benmont Tench on playing with Ringo, the Beatles RnB roots and the genius of ‘No Reply’ 209. #BeatlesMonth Ken Levine on ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ (1967) 208. All Our Exes Live In Texas on Rufus Wainwright ‘Want’ (2004) 207. Eilish Gilligan on Counting Crows ‘August and Everthing After’ (1993) 206. Katie Brianna on Rilo Kiley ‘Under the Blacklight’ (2007) 205. Pegi Young on her biggest influences, from Janis to Joni, Clapton to the Dead 204. Margaret Glaspy on Bjork ‘Vespertine’ (2001) 203. Iluka on Marvin Gaye ‘What’s Going On’ (1971) 202. Veronica Milsom (triple J) on The Shins ‘Wincing the Night Away’ (2007) 201. Charles Esten on Bruce Springsteen ‘Born to Run’ (1975) 200. What’s Your Favorite Aussie Music? with Benmont Tench, Duglas T Stewart, Natalie Prass, Sam Palladio and Jeff Greenstein 199. Showrunner Jeff Lieber on Gregory Alan Isakov ‘The Weatherman’ and how music fuels his writing process 198. Jack Colwell on Tori Amos ‘Boys for Pele’ (1996) 197. Benmont Tench on playing with Bob Dylan, Jenny Lewis and Ryan Adams and the worst advice he’s received 196. Ella Thompson (Dorsal Fins, GL) on Renee Geyer ‘Moving On’ 195. The Shires on Lady Antebellum ‘Own the Night’ (2011) 194. Duglas T Stewart (BMX Bandits) on Beach Boys ‘Love You’ (1977) 193. Dan Soder on Queens of the Stone Age ‘Like Clockwork’ (2013) 192. Kingswood on The Beatles ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ (1967) 191. Comedian Becky Lucas on Michael Jackson ‘Bad’ (1987) 190. PVT on Brian Eno ‘Another Green World’ (1975) 189. Middle Kids on My Brightest Diamond ‘Bring Me The Workhorse’ (2006) 188. The Bitter Script Reader on Tom Hanks ‘That Thing You Do’ (1996) 187. Carly Rae Jepsen ‘Emotion’ (2015) with CRJ Dream Team Roundtable 186. Sarah Belkner on Peter Gabriel ‘So’ (1986) 185. Mark Hart (Crowded House, Supertramp) on XTC ‘Drums and Wires’ (1979) 184. Emma Swift on Marianne Faithfull ‘Broken English’ (1974) 183. Owen Rabbit on Kate Bush ‘Hounds of Love’ (1985) 182. Robyn Hitchcock on Bob Dylan ‘Blonde on Blonde’ (1966) 181. Dave Mudie (Courtney Barnett) on Nirvana ‘Nevermind’ (1991) 180. Brian Koppelman on Bruce Springsteen ‘Nebraska’ (1982) 179. Nicholas Allbrook (POND) on OutKast ‘The Love Below’ (2003) 178. 2016 in Review: What the hell? ft Jeff Greenstein, Rob Draper & Cookin on 3 Burners, Melody Pool, Lisa Mitchell, Emma Swift, Brian Koppelman, Mark Hart (Crowded House), Davey Lane and Alex Lahey 177. Harper Simon on The Beatles ‘White Album’ (1968) 176. Andrew P Street on Models ‘Pleasure of Your Company’ (1983) 175. Matt Farley (Motern Media) on why The Beach Boys ‘Love You’ is better than ‘Pet Sounds’ 174. Lisa Mitchell on Regina Spektor ‘Begin to Hope’ (2006) and her favorite albums of 2016 173. Peter Bibby on Sleep ‘Dopesmoker’ (2003) 172. Slate’s Jack Hamilton on Stevie Wonder ‘Innervisions’ (1973) 171. Showrunner Blake Masters on Drive-By Truckers ‘The Dirty South’ (2004) 170. Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes) on on their new album ‘We’re All Gonna Die’, loving LA and the albums that inspire him 169. Sadler Vaden on The Rolling Stones ‘Goats Head Soup’ (1973) 168. Guy Clark biographer Tamara Saviano on ‘Dublin Blues’, Guy’s songwriting process and his musical legacy 167. What does Trump mean for music? 166. A Tribute to Sir George Martin, The Fifth Beatle with Davey Lane and Brett Wolfie 165. John Oates on Joni Mitchell ‘Blue’ (1971) 164. Jimmy Vivino on the birth of the Max Weinberg 7, his relationship with Conan O’Brien, country music and the future of rock’n’roll 163. DJ Alix Brown on Transformer (1972) by Lou Reed 162. Taylor Locke on Doolittle (1989) by the Pixies, the album that inspired 90s alt-rock 161. Harts on Around the World in a Day (1985) by Prince and jamming with Prince at Paisley Park 160. Mark McKinnon (The Circus) on Kristofferson and programming the President’s iPod 159. Alan Brough on A Walk Across the Rooftops (1984) by The Blue Nile 158. Peter Cooper on Pretty Close to the Truth (1994) and why we need Americana music 157. Will Colvin (Hedge Fund) on One of the Boys by Katy Perry (2008) 156. Julia Jacklin on Extraordinary Machine by Fiona Apple (2005) 155. Japanese Wallpaper on Currents by Tame Impala (2015) 154. Montaigne on her album Glorious Heights (2016) and its inspirations 153. Alex Lahey on Hot Fuss by the Killers (2004) 152. Jack Moffitt (The Preatures) on Physical Graffiti by Led Zeppelin (1975) 151. Mike Bloom on Axis Bold As Love by Jimi Hendrix (1968) 150. Hey Geronimo on Drowning in the Fountain of Youth by Dan Kelly (2006) 149. Mickey Raphael on Teatro by Willie Nelson (1998) 148. Jack Ladder on Suicide by Suicide 147. Rusty Anderson on Hot Rats by Frank Zappa 146. Kenny Aronoff on The Beatles 145. Bob Evans on A Grand Don’t Come for Free by The Streets 144. Chris Hewitt (Empire) on New Adventues in Hi-Fi by REM 143. Dr Warren Zanes on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 142. Dr Mark Kermode (Wittertainment) on Sleep No More by the Comsat Angels 141. Van Dyke Parks on Randy Newman by Randy Newman 140. Imogen Clark on Heartbreaker by Ryan Adams 139. Jesse Thorn on Fresh by Sly and the Family Stone 138. Stephen Tobolowsky on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars by David Bowie 137. Ben Blacker on Blood and Chocolate on Elvis Costello & the Attractions 136. Jonny Fritz on West by Lucinda Williams 135. Adam Busch on A River Ain’t Too Much to Love by Smog 134. Kelsea Ballerini on Blue Neighbourhood by Troye Sivan 133. Natalie Prass on Presenting Dionne Warwick 132. Josh Pyke on Badmotorfinger by Soundgarden 131. Kip Moore on Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen 130. Koi Child on Voodoo by D’Angelo 129. The Cadillac Three on Wildflowers by Tom Petty 128. Julian McCullough on Appetite for Destruction by Guns n Roses 127. Danny Clinch on Greetings from Ashbury Park NJ by Bruce Springsteen 126. Sam Palladio (Nashville) on October Road by James Taylor 125. Steve Mandel on Blood and Chocolate by Elvis Costello 124. Brian Koppelman on The History of the Eagles 123. Benmont Tench on Beggars Banquet by the Rolling Stones 122. Jimmy Vivino (Basic Cable Band) on Super Session by Al Kooper, Mike Bloomfield and Stephen Stills 121. Holiday Sidewinder on Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid by Bob Dylan 120. Ben Blacker on Aladdin Sane by David Bowie 119. EZTV on The Toms by The Toms 118. Jess Ribeiro on Transformer by Lou Reed 117. Whitney Rose on Keith Whitley Greatest Hits 116. Best Albums of 2015 with Danny Yau ft. Jason Isbell, Dan Kelly, Shane Nicholson, Tim Rogers, Will Hoge and Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala) 115. Phil Spector’s A Christmas Gift For You with Jaime Lewis 114. Xmas Music ft. Kristian Bush, Lee Brice, Corb Lund and Tim Byron 113. Sam Outlaw on Pieces of the Sky by Emmylou Harris 112. Jason Isbell on Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones 111. Ash Naylor (Even) on Houses of the Holy by Led Zeppelin 110. Burke Reid (Gerling) on Dirty by Sonic Youth 109. Lance Ferguson (The Bamboos) on Kind of Blue by Miles Davis 108. Lindsay ‘The Doctor’ McDougall (Frenzal Rhomb) on Curses! by Future of the Left 107. Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala) on Chrominance Decoder by April March 106. Melody Pool on Blue by Joni Mitchell 105. Rusty Hopkinson (You Am I) on ‘Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era’ 104. Jeff Greenstein on A Quick One (Happy Jack) by The Who 103. Dave Cobb on Revolver by the Beatles 102. Justin Melkmann (World War IX) on Coney Island Baby by Lou Reed 101. Kacey Musgraves on John Prine by John Prine 100. Does the album have a future? 99. Corb Lund on Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs by Marty Robbins 98. Bad Dreems on Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division 97. Davey Lane (You Am I) on Abbey Road by the Beatles 96. Dan Kelly on There’s A Riot Goin’ On by Sly and the Family Stone 95. Ash Grunwald on Mule Variations by Tom Waits 94. Stella Angelico on The Shangrilas 93. Eves the Behavior on Blue by Joni Mitchell 92. Troy Cassar-Daley on Willie Nelson’s Greatest Hits 91. Lydia Loveless on Pleased to Meet Me by the Replacements 90. Gena Rose Bruce on The Boatman’s Call by Nick Cave 89. Kitty Daisy and Lewis on A Swingin’ Safari by Bert Kaempfert 88. Will Hoge on Modern Sounds in Country & Western Music by Ray Charles 87. Shane Nicholson on 52nd St by Billy Joel 86 - Tired Lion on Takk… by Sigur Ros 85 - Whispering Bob Harris on Forever Changes by Love 84 - Jake Stone (Bluejuice) on Ben Folds Five by Ben Folds Five 83 - Pete Thomas (Elvis Costello and the Imposters) on Are You Experienced? by the Jimi Hendrix Experience 82 - Dom Alessio on OK Computer by Radiohead 81 - Anthony Albanese MP on The Good Son by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds 80 - John Waters on Electric Ladyland by The Jimi Hendrix Experience 79 - Jim DeRogatis (Sound Opinions) on Clouds Taste Metallic by The Flaming Lips 78 - Montaigne on The Haunted Man by Bat for Lashes 77 - Guy Pratt (Pink Floyd) on Quadrophenia by The Who 76 - Homer Steinweiss (Dap Kings) on Inspiration Information by Shuggie Otis 75 - Best of 2015 (So Far) ft. Danny Yau, Montaigne, Harts, Joelistics, Rose Elinor Dougall and Burke Reid 74 - Matt Farley (Motern Media) on RAM by Paul McCartney BONUS - Neil Finn on The Beatles, Neil Young, David Bowie and Radiohead 73 - Grace Farriss (Burn Antares) on All Things Must Pass by George Harrison 72 - Katie Noonan on Blue by Joni Mitchell 71 - Harts on Band of Gypsys by Jimi Hendrix 70 - Tim Rogers (You Am I) on Bring the Family by John Hiatt 69 - Mark Seymour (Hunters and Collectors) on The Ghost of Tom Joad by Bruce Springsteen 68 - Jeremy Neale on Graceland by Paul Simon 67 - Joelistics on Graceland by Paul Simon 66 - Brian Nankervis (RocKwiz) on Astral Weeks by Van Morrison 65 - ILUKA on Pastel Blues by Nina Simone 64 - Rose Elinor Dougall on Tender Buttons by Broadcast 63 - Sarah McLeod (The Superjesus) on Siamese Dream by The Smashing Pumpkins 62 - Keyone Starr on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill 61 - Chase Bryant on Defying Gravity by Keith Urban 60 - Brian Koppelman on Southeastern by Jason Isbell 59 - Michael Carpenter on The Beatles White Album Side 4 58 - Pete Kilroy (Hey Geronimo) on The Beatles White Album Side 3 57 - Mark Wells on The Beatles White Album Side 2 56 - Jeff Greenstein on Colossal Youth by Young Marble Giants 55 - Laura Bell Bundy on Shania Twain, Otis Redding and Bright Eyes 54 - Jake Clemons on Surfacing by Sarah McLachlan 53 - Kristian Bush (Sugarland) on The Joshua Tree by U2 52 - Kevin Bennett (The Flood) on Willis Alan Ramsey by Willis Alan Ramsey 51 - Lee Brice on Unorthodox Jukebox by Bruno Mars 50 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on the White Album (Side 1) by The Beatles 49 - Joe Camilleri on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 48 - Russell Morris on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 47 - Mike Rudd (Spectrum) on England’s Newest Hitmakers by The Rolling Stones 46 - Henry Wagons on Harvest by Neil Young 45 - Megan Washington on Poses by Rufus Wainwright 44 - Andrew Hansen (The Chaser) on Armchair Theatre by Jeff Lynne 43 - She Rex on BlakRoc by The Black Keys 42 - Catherine Britt on Living with Ghosts by Patty Griffin 41 - Robyn Hitchcock on Plastic Ono Band by John Lennon 40 - Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) on Transformer by Lou Reed 39 - Harry Hookey on Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan 38 - Rob Draper on Faith by George Michael 37 - Best of 2014 ft. Danny Yau, Andrew Hansen, Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) and Mike Carr 36 - Doug Pettibone on Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris 35 - Ross Ryan on Late for the Sky by Jackson Browne 34 - Michael Carpenter on Hard Promises by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers 33 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on Jesus of Cool by Nick Lowe 32 - Zane Carney on Smokin’ at the Half Note by Wes Montgomery 31 - Tony Buchen on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles 30 - Simon Relf (The Tambourine Girls) on On the Beach by Neil Young 29 - Peter Cooper on In Search of a Song by Tom T Hall 28 - Thelma Plum on Stolen Apples by Paul Kelly 27 - James House on Rubber Soul by the Beatles 26 - Ella Hooper on Let England Shake by PJ Harvey 25 - Abbey Road Special 24 - Alyssa Bonagura on Room for Squares by John Mayer 23 - Luke Davison (The Preatures) on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 22 - Neil Finn on Hunky Dory by David Bowie and In Rainbows by Radiohead 21 - Neil Finn on Beatles for Sale by the Beatles and After the Goldrush by Neil Young 20 - Morgan Evans on Diorama by Silverchair 19 - Emma Swift on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams 18 - Danny Yau on Hourly Daily by You Am I 17 - J Robert Youngtown and Jon Auer (The Posies) on Hi Fi Way by You Am I 16 - Lester the Fierce on Hounds of Love by Kate Bush 15 - Luke Davison on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 14 - Jeff Cripps on Wheels of Fire by Cream 13 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 2) 12 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 1) 11 - Gossling on O by Damien Rice 10 - Matt Fell on Temple of Low Men by Crowded House 9 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 2) 8 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 1) 7 - Sam Hawksley on A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin 6 - Jim Lauderdale on Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons 5 - Mark Moffatt on Blues Breakers by John Mayall and Eric Clapton 4 - Darren Carr on Ten Easy Pieces by Jimmy Webb 3 - Mark Wells on Revolver by The Beatles 2 - Mike Carr on Arrival by ABBA 1 - Rob Draper on Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan

#podcast #aaron lee tasjan #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #george martin #george harrison #tomorrow never knows #and your bird can sing #bowie #new york dolls

1 note · View note