#they’ve got this acoustic feel to them making them feel almost close and more personal and like. vulnerable

[cherry-pop-soda]

okay but i think a rush of blood to the head by coldplay is absolutely one of the most insane love songs ive ever heard. “oh i’m gonna buy this place and start a fire/ stand here until i fill all your heart’s desires/ because i’m gonna buy this place and see it burn/ and do back the things it did to you in return” ?????? HELLO ??????? DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND ME

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

[success-and-corruption]

Macabre Album Review

DEG's second album! Oh yeah!

Track 1: Deity

This first track is definitely very interesting. It starts with a sleigh bell and then quickly turns into ominous chanting of some sort. Very spooky but also very different from their previous work which shows how versatile these five musicians are. The chanting eventually stops and we're met with heavy guitars and bass with Shinya playing a steady beat and Kyo vocalizing with a woman’s voice eerily making sounds. It sounds like he's gasping for breath (see what I did there)? That section ends and a clean guitar is played for a few seconds before the song goes back to the heavy riff after the chanting but this time Kyo sings in Russian to the tune of Johannes Brahms' "Fifth Hungarian Dance." This song definitely feels very religious to me which I suppose fits because the case for Macabre has prayer (?) beads in it.

I think Deity showcases DEG’s experimental side and sets the foundation for the rest of the album and it shows that DEG took a very different turn and became a bit darker.

Track 2: Myaku

Is this track in 3/4? 4/4? 5/4? 6/4?

Yes to all of the above. In the booklet it's indicated that this song was written by DIR EN GREY so no individual member wrote it specifically but the band definitely had some fun with time signatures in this one. Myaku was released as a single which is a bit different from the album version but I'm not reviewing the single. This song definitely departs from their late 90s VK sound which in my opinion is a good thing as it showed that DEG wanted to become more serious musicians. Plus, this track has one of my favorite basslines but I never got around to learning how to play it. Myaku is a chaotic song but it fits very well with Macabre.

Track 3: Wake/Riyuu

My boy Die does it again. This song is one of my favorites on the album and despite it being written by a guitarist, Toshiya’s bass really drives this track but we can’t forget the soaring guitars in the beginning and in the chorus. Kyo’s vocals are also great. Fantastic rhythm, instruments that all work very well together, and Kyo’s clean vocals? What’s not to like? This song really gets me moving for some reason. Not nearly as chaotic as Myaku, but Wake/Riyuu provides a nice structure and a consistent time signature (4/4) which is good contrast in my opinion. 

Track 4: Egnirys Cimredopyh +) An Injection

Everyone probably knows this by now by  Egnirys Cimredopyh = hypodermic syringe backwards. Despite that, this song isn’t about intravenous drug use. Kyo references a “white powder” a lot in this song and in one part of the song he sings “I started to speak to the wall with my lower half” (of course he sings that in Japanese) so I think this song is about abusing a drug called kakuseizai and... ejaculating onto a wall? To my knowledge cocaine isn’t very popular in Japan and kakuseizai (roughly translated to “stimulant” in English) is a type of methamphetamine that is used to improve pleasure during sex. Anyway as the lyrics progress it’s clear that the person in the song is battling between his good and bad side. They’re aware that their drug use is stripping them of their sanity but can’t stop and eventually gives in and “kills” the good side. In regards to the musicality of the song, again I really like the bassline (probably because I play bass) but the solos in the song, both bass and guitar, are seriously lacking in substance for me. However the rest of the song is fun to move around to i.e. it has a nice rhythm. 

Track 5: Hydra

“I wanna be an anarchist”

“Dead born”

“Sid Vicious, suspicious”

What are those lyrics??? This song is another experimental one with electronic sounds throughout. It’s also fast-paced and has another chant near the end of the song that breaks it up nicely. Lyrically there’s not much I have to say but this song is definitely one of DEG’s most interesting sounding. I’m sorry that I don’t have more to say. 

Track 6: Hotarubi

Hotarubi... what a beautiful song. It was very clearly written by Shinya. This track is, in my opinion, one of DEG’s best ballads but I think it goes on for too long but that’s just a very minor complaint. The strings complement the rest of the instruments and the part from 2:40-3:42 is stunning, with a surprising violin solo and a woman breathily vocalizing. Everything in this song works so well together except for the loud buzzing halfway through and Hotarubi never fails to evoke an emotional response within me. If it weren’t too long for my liking I would listen to it on repeat. At a certain point I just get bored. Also I think this song would be better suited towards the end of the album where the songs become more melodic.

Track 7: 【KR】cube

I’m not sure what【KR】cube means but what a fun song. Toshiya starts it out with that funky bass that we all know and love and then it transforms into a fast-paced song with a very nice rhythm on the guitars and Kyo’s clean vocals come in which is always nice to hear. I like the speed and rhythm of this song as it offers a pleasant difference from Hotarubi which is a very slow song. The chorus is very catchy as well 

Kururi, furari, fuwari, kurari

Kururi, furari, fuwari, kurakurari

and so on. The music video is fun for this one. We love Hitman Die. 

Track 8: Berry

This song is easy to figure out from the beginning dialogue of an English girl apologizing but then promising to blow her parents’ head off like raspberry jam (spoiler: she does at the end of the song). This one has more of a punk vibe and it’s kind of a fun song. What I can say is that I’ve never heard a song that features parents yelling at a child as part of a breakdown. It’s a good song but in my opinion it doesn’t really fit with the Macabre sound.

Track 9: Macabre -Sanagi no Yume wa Ageha no Hane-  

WOW what a song this is. I believe that this eleven minute prog rock masterpiece was the first song I learned on the bass (go big or go home). I love Shinya’s drums in the beginning and as soon as the other instruments come in you just know you’re in for a journey. This song has a great composition with all of the instruments and vocal layers but I suppose I should get into the specifics. The beginning (after the drums) starts with guitars that, in my opinion, portray a certain sadness while the bass drives the the song. Kyo’s voice is great in this one and also portrays that same sadness. After the first two verses clean guitars come in which is a nice contrast from the beginning but this song truly comes alive during the instrumental breakdown where there’s a guitar playing a repeating riff while insects buzz and a church organ plays in the background. It then switches to Kaoru and Die playing the same notes but alternating between electric and acoustic guitars. The breakdown ends with a very beautiful solo and Kyo singing in a higher register and making slurping sounds which makes sense if you follow the lyrics. There’s a bass solo which is always nice to hear. 

I think I’ve written too much about this song so I’m going to go on to...

Track 10: Audrey

What exactly were they trying to accomplish here? Country rock? It doesn’t fit with the album and it doesn’t even fit with DEG’s sound in general. I never listen to this song so I don’t have much to say about it. 

Track 11: Rasetsukoku

This song fits much better with Macabre, but only marginally. It’s definitely more speed metal which at this point in DEG’s music career hasn’t really done. It’s fun to listen to but the composition is quite simple and it tends to be sort of repetitive. I do like the bass in the beginning but the guitars in this song are kind of boring to me.  Maybe I should give it more credit. 

Track 12: Zakuro

I have mixed feelings about this song. It’s very emotional but maybe too emotional. It starts out kind of slow but I like Kaoru and Die’s parts in the beginning because they harmonize very well. I think this song has one of the most beautiful guitar solos they’ve ever written and it conveys the sadness that is the central focus of this song. My problem with it (and it’s a minor one) is that it’s definitely better live. 

Track 13: Taiyou no Ao

Another favorite on this album. Once again there’s a great bassline and while the song itself sounds sort of like a pop song the lyrics are rather sad. The prominent bass complements the guitars and if Shinya wanted a workout routine he could play this song a few times and he would get pretty buff. Can you imagine a buff Shinya? Neither can I. It just seems like his drums never stop for almost the entire song. It’s a nice way to close the album because it contrasts with the very dark-sounding Deity and it leaves me feeling good, albeit a bit sad because of the lyrics.

So that’s it. Can you tell I got a bit tired near the end? All in all I give this album 7/10. It’s a great album but there are some real duds in my opinion but it’s not my least favorite by any stretch. I’ll be reviewing all ten albums so you’ll find out which one I like the least...

As always feel free to comment your thoughts! I would like to connect with my followers a bit more.

[creativeashproductions]

In the Beginning // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie (Rhodes)’s older sister is the epitome of cool in his, and his friends, eyes with her in a band. Pushed by a hazel eyed brunette with a huge crush on the eldest Rhodes teen the boys decide to start a band. While at first the band is for Luke’s dream of landing you he finds his passion with music.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff, dad!Luke

Words: 4.1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist writing another alive!Luke fic with Luke crushing on his band mate’s sister. Ugh, just imagine Luke suggesting a band to impress his crush only to fall in love with music instead.  For my fics it will be Alex Mitchell and Reggie Rhodes until JATP reveals their canon names. 

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1992

The guitar case was a familiar heaviness as you walked into the home for the first time in months after a practice. You ached from the long travel, and all you wanted was your bed. The yawn came first, then the startled yell at the living room.

Four pairs of eyes met the girl standing in the entryway, surprised at a sleepover with her brother and his full friends. Eyebrows coming together you shook your head wondering why they had come here instead of the typical Patterson home.

“Hey!” Fourteen-year-old Reggie beamed towards his older sister excited she was back from her weekend band practice. Your eyes blinked at his usual upbeat personality before switching to the brown eyes from Bobby, too shy to full meet yours.

Spread around the living room watching a movie was Reggie’s best friends; the socially awkward Alex, the shy Bobby, and the Patterson boy Luke. The young typically spent their time at Luke’s place, so seeing them in your home was strange.

“Reg, what’s up?” You asked crouching to untie your shoes confused at the sharp audible gasp coming from Luke. Standing straight up, you saw Luke awkwardly looking away with bright red cheeks.

“How was practice?” Reggie inquired with the smile he got from your mom and his dark hair from your dad.

Reggie usually wasn’t interested in your band leading you to wonder what the hell was going on with them. Being sixteen you didn’t socialize with Reggie’s friends, thanks to the two year age gap, but you were happy he had good friends. Well, less than two years between you and Luke.

“It was good. Since when are you interested in Crimson Queen?” You questioned moving more into the room with the four young teens, “You haven’t even touched your bass in years.”

One eyebrow raised you individually looked at the boys in the room all with sheets of paper around them. From a distance, you couldn’t tell what was on them, but it couldn’t be homework. They all attended the same high school while you had done correspondence with the band and a tutor.

“Luke’s parents got him a guitar,” Reggie spoke gesturing to the decent brand new acoustic guitar on the floor beside the Patterson. Luke’s hazel eyes widening as you came closer to the group.

Your hand picking up the guitar to look it over finding it was decent for a beginner, but it was definitely not tuned. The sheer sound made you wince.

“So, you guys want to be a band?” You questioned sitting on the floor beside Luke. The boy shifting nervously, you weren’t blind that he got shy around girls, “Do you guys even play instruments?”

“I got the bass, Bobby can play rhythm guitar, Alex plays dru-“

“I wouldn’t call it proper drumming. It’s just something my therapist suggested with my anxiety and frustrations.” Alex raised his hand leading to everyone in the room looking at the tall male, recently had a growth spurt, with the backward black hat.

“And Luke will learn guitar as well.” You added, looking at the quiet, “How well can you play?”

“I don’t even know how to properly tune it,” Luke admitted playing with his fingers adorned with a ring.

Luke had chosen a cutoff shirt in an attempt to gain your attention to his arms he hoped had gotten more muscled. He had a massive crush on you but with the guys your own age he had step up; he started working out. He actually enjoyed it, but he’d enjoy it more if you were checking him out.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You mumbled glancing out the window at the ocean waves thinking. The house was on the prime real estate edge of the beach all thanks to your well off parents; Dad, a doctor and Mom, an interior designer.

Your fingers tapped on the ripped blue jeans you had chosen that day with the flannel shirt opened over the black AC/DC t-shirt. You started standing up, grabbing Luke’s hand to pull him up as well; the boy’s cheeks grew pinker, and his heart fluttered.

“What?” Luke spluttered, staring at his hand, caught in yours in sheer awe.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You answered, dropping is head to reach in your pocket for your key chain.

The key chain had a few keys on it: one for home, one for your car, one for the band van for gigs, one for the garage, and lastly one for the house the garage belonged to. The boys piled into the car, apprehensive for where you were taking them. The only sound was the radio playing local greatest hits, your foot slammed on the brake at the house of your bassist.

“Well Marty, this song has blown up on the charts. New band Crimson-“

“Holy shit.” You breathed staring at the radio. Your door opened as you sprinted down to the steps that led to the garage. The footsteps of the boys following.

The garage was open already with your band members lounging around the space filled with instruments and amps. Their heads swivelling as you frantic turned the radio on.

“Come on.” You mumbled, turning the radio station to the right one, “Guys listen!”

“-Crimson Queen is an LA-based band making waves in the LA Nightlife and hit the top ten with their newest song Sorry Now.” The radio host spoke, “If you haven’t heard the song before, this is the band’s new single.”

The song was blasted from the radio leading to the four girls screaming the song out dancing around the room. Euphoria was the only way you could call the feeling rising in the bodies of the girls in the place. The room burst into more screams as your drummer. Faith switched the radio station.

“Today history was made, Crimson Queen is an all-female rock band fronted by Y/N Rhodes. They started as a hobby at fifteen, but a year later at sixteen they’ve made waves.” A hit radio station, the second one so far, was talking about your band. Holy shit.

“Lucy, this band is going places. My daughter is seven years old, and she’s telling me this band is the talk of her school. I can’t tell how much Lucy listens to their demo.”

Your eyes saw Reggie having a meltdown of excitement for older sister and her band, and you were so unbelievably happy you should care the moment. You rushed over to Reggie to pull him into a hug.

“Girls…and boys.” Mrs Taylor spoke furrowing her brows at the young boys in the garage her daughter had begged to use for the band. Shaking her head, the middle-aged woman turned her attention to her daughter.

“Hey, Ma.” Dawn, your bassist, spoke spreading her pink painted lips to her perfectly straight teeth too hyped up on energy, “What’s up?”

“First congratulations on the single. Secondly, we’re gonna need to get a personal line for the band because our phone is blowing up.”

A sharp gasp from Dawn before the three of the four girls rushed to the house of the Taylor’s. You hung back to look at your brother and his band.

“So? What do you think?” You inquired with the group, “This idea of yours has to be one hundred percent what you want. It won’t be easy in LA, it will come with hardships, and Reggie Mom and Dad won’t let you drop out.”

The four boys nodded their heads because the excitement they saw in your big break was something they wanted. To be able to connect with people cemented their decision.

“Feel free to hang around.” You suggested glancing around the garage that started it all, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The Orpheum, Los Angeles, 1995

The crowd screamed as Crimson Queen, the song that started this road played with the girl crouching to grasp the hand of fans. At the beat of the chorus, you stood up eating up the energy of the last show of the tour. You went jumped on the drum riser rocking on the guitar as Faith did her magic.

Dawn on her bass made her way to rock with your rhythm guitarist Sara sharing grins with you still feeling the euphoria of this success. As the song came to an end, your entire band went to the front of the stage.

“We’d like to thank our fans for the last nine months of our world tour. We started this band in LA in 1991, so we thought it fit to end our tour at The Orpheum.” You spoke to the crowd, feeding off the energy as the concert came to an end.

The road crew would load your instruments up in the van to take home after months of travelling. You were so excited to see Reggie, who would be seventeen now, having celebrated his birthday while you had been in Europe. Too excited were shocked as Reggie backstage.

“Reggie!” You exclaimed tugging the teen into your arms, leaning back to take him in, “Damn you grew!”

Reggie grinned not giving a shit you were coated in sweat from performing your setlist, but your eyes went over his shoulder. Standing close and just as excited was Reggie’s friends. Alex was taller, Bobby looked more confident, and Luke could meet your eyes. Luke also had changed, no longer baby faced.

“Sunset Curve.” You spoke, stepping back to look them over, “I haven’t seen you guys in months, how did you change so much!”

“That’s what happens when you go on tour for almost a year.” Luke teased tugging you into his arms for a tight hug.

It was odd seeing Luke taller and more muscled than when you left for tour, and the confidence was honestly hot. You had seen Luke as anything other than your brother’s friend, who tended to stare a little too long.

“You played the fucking Orpheum!” Alex screamed, holding your shoulders with a wrinkled nose at the damp red thin flannel shirt. The girls wandered up behind you each with a grin at the guys.

“Well if it isn’t Sunset Swerve,” Sara spoke swinging her arm over your shoulder with a teasing smirk plastered on her face. Her blonde hair swept up in a bun high on her head from a recent shower.

“Sunset Curve!” The male quartet snapped at the name before they fell back into a happy demeanour. Luke and you both staring at each other with a pink-hued face.

Faith was quieter in the group leaning closer to your band to whisper in your ear, “Jay scored us some drinks. But MJ got us into a party.” Faith’s textured hair tickling your neck.

Grins split the three girls at the suggestion each excited for the party with fellow musicians and plus ones. Sure, the parties had drugs and alcohol, but they were fun and part of the scene. Half of you wanted to go, but the other wanted to spend time with your brother.

“I’ll think I’ll pass.” You spoke up to the girls motioning to the guys, “I’ll head back with them. Meet you at the house later?”

Your black vans moving backwards as you moved to be closer to be flush against Reggie’s side grinning as he bumped his hip against you. Sara, Faith and Dawn each raising an eyebrow at your response since you often dragged them to parties.

“Orrr…we could each take one of them.” Faith cajoled mocha skin gleaming in the light with her hands, tugging her hair into a thick braid.

“You want me to take my seventeen-year-old brother and his friends-“

“-I’m like two weeks from being eighteen-” Luke cut into the conversation buzzing at the possible date, but not date, with the girl he had been crushing on for years. He was pretty sure he was in love with you at this point; he did date a little, but nothing stuck.

“-To a party in Hollywood.” You finished pinning your gaze on the three girls ahead each with mischievous grins. Your cheeks puffed as you breathed out, thinking of the positives and negatives.

Bobby was bouncing on his heels with Reggie leaving Alex shifting uncomfortably in his place. His partially relaxed when Luke squeezed his forearm through the distressed black jean jacket that bought his outfit together. Luke himself was apprehensive on your decision because either way, he got to spend time with you.

“Come on.” Dawn implored, pulling out the big guns with her ocean blue eyes widening into the puppy gaze that did you in each time. Her curtain of short dyed pink hair framing her heart-shaped face.

“I’m going to pass this time. Do some shots for me! Not tequila though, that was a huge mistake.” Faith’s grin widened at having you carry you out of the house in the early morning after a wicked party.

“Did you ever find your tho-“

“Faith!” You hissed turning a bright red at her revelation that you definitely didn’t want Reggie to know. The atmosphere turned awkward as everyone realized what the sentence would end with.

Okay so maybe you had hooked up with a few people over the last three years but nothing permanent. It was fun, drunk fun, but still fun and nothing had gone wrong. Your eyes avoided looking at Luke for a reason you couldn’t decipher.

“I’ll see you later.” You spoke motioning for the guys to follow you to the dressing room you had settled in early in the day. The corner of your lips quirked at the awe on each of the boys’ faces.

“I’m in the dressing where bands become legends.” Reggie gasped circling the room with wide-eyed interest. Alex was interested in the band posters on the walls from previous performers.

Luke, however, was more interested in your curves covered by your sweaty stage clothing that stuck to your form. His Adam’s apple gulped as you grabbed your shower bag moving towards the connected bathroom.

“I’ll grab a shower, and we can head out.” You supplied, “I’ll just need to stop at Rudy’s office for our portion of the concert.”

The guys mumbled a response finding a place to wait without hushed conversations of when they would get to play. Luke’s eyes found yours at the low call of his name from the bathroom; a crack opened he walked over.

“Do you have a sweater?” You mumbled at the taller teen with widening eyes as he realized that you were naked behind the door.

Luke stumbled over his feet, retrieving the black pullover Crimson Queen merch he had had for months now. He had saved up money to buy the merch to support the band. The door closed as you tugged the sweater in the bathroom momentarily before walking out.

“Thanks Lu. I forget to pack a shirt.” Luke awed as your nose scrunched up adorably to the amusement of his friends, “So, do you wanna hit the beach? Or maybe give me a concert in the garage?”

Luke intertwined his fingers in yours as he tugged you out of the room with your bag in hand. His heart fluttered as you held on to his hand even in the little office of the Orpheum’s management for the thick envelope of money.

“Thanks, Rudy!” You called over your shoulder at the short, stout man going over the financials and upcoming performances.

The smell of Sunset Boulevard brought a smile remembering the first time you performed and the small group that had waited outside. The first night of autographs and recognition.

“So, Reg how’s my car?” You questioned the teen who impishly grinned tugging the key chain from his black jeans. You had given him the keys when you revealed Crimson Queen had a world tour.

“Right there.” Reggie pointed leading the group of five to the car that would take them to the garage. Reggie drove with Alex in the passenger while you were crammed between Bobby and Luke; Luke was delighted in your warmth against his side.

While your band members partied, you got a first-row seating to Sunset Curve’s talent in the garage where you had started out. It was amazing to see how much they had accomplished in the three years since they started.

The sudden knock on the door had you flailing off the couch onto the floor with a sheet of paper stuck to your cheek. Your spine cracked as you sat up glancing at your watch, finding it was after midnight, only an hour of sleep after inspiration for a new song.

The door was knocked on once more and coming close the sound of crying could be heard, and you wondered if it was Luke. He had been over a few days in the night following a fight with his parents and needed to crash; helped you were giving dating a chance after his well-rehearsed speech.

Imagine your shock when it was Reggie sobbing, “Reggie.”

“C-can I stay here?” Reggie whimpered cuddling himself into the leather jacket he received at Christmas from you. You had inside in your arms in moments, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Are they fighting again?” You murmured to your younger brother content to hold him as he cried. Bringing him to the living room, you held him as he cried humming under your breath the first song you ever let him see.

“Yeah. The music doesn’t work anymore.” Reggie murmured leaning back to wipe his tears off, “Sorry for crashing. I can go stay with-“

“Here. Reginald, you can always stay here.” You soothed the seventeen-year-old boy with sad eyes and a sombre look. His sad eyes shattered your heart, knowing he had suffered the fighting for months alone, “This house is empty Reg. You can move in here.”

His lip quirked up, “Can we play country music?”

“And eat breakfast at night.” You teased him grinning as his lips pulled up into his trademark grin, “The guys can come over whenever they want. I’d actually prefer they know they can stay here, they deserve a safe place to stay.”

You knew that Alex endured living with his parents, who had gone out of their way to avoid him after he came out. Luke couch surfed at your old house, never at Alex’s home; after coming out, Alex didn’t feel comfortable bringing anyone over.

“Good, because they’re outside.” Reggie sheepishly admitted raising his thumbs-up, “Go thinking ahead!”

Snorting the human version of a golden retriever you opened the front door to the house finding two guys in strange positions. Alex was inspecting the light fixture, and Luke was leaning against the wall with his elbow, foot across the other.

“You guys need lessons in the art of pretending you weren’t eavesdropping.” The sigh fell stepping aside for the two to enter the home—each carrying a backpack and small duffle bag for wherever they would have crashed.

The male trio got comfortable in the living room curiously glancing at the mess of papers, sticky notes and pencils. While with good intentions, they didn’t follow boundaries well, even for Alex.

“Whatcha working on?” Luke inquired, leaning closer to a sheet of paper. His pout coming over his face when you quickly tidied up the papers.

“Nothing. I fell asleep on the couch. The label wants new songs.” You groaned rubbing your eyes, “I got inspired last night. Oh! Hey, I took a message for you guys.”

Jogging to your office studio for the band you quickly grabbed the envelope along with the note that you had been given.

“So, Rudy called me, and I had a meeting with him.” You started sitting on the coffee table in front of the trio. The trio leaned forward.

“Rudy?” Luke questioned, pursing his lips together at the male name. While you and Luke were dating it wasn’t official, he was just really nervous with his dream girl liking him back.

“He’s the management for a venue. He asked if our band was available for a concert, but we collectively decided to focus on songs and recording, which you can’t tell anyone about, but he’s in dire need. So, I might have given him something. Specifically a demo of yours and knowing your home situations I gave my information.”

“Okay…so?” Alex questioned, leaning forward. His eyes growing wide as you pushed the envelope in his hand.

Alex quickly opened the cream envelope finding inside a paper along with a mock-up promo poster with Sunset Curve. The squeal was shocking from the teenager as he read the letter and note out loud.

Y/N,

I gave the demo a listen, and we usually wouldn’t do this, but Crimson Queen has been gracious with us. Always mentioning where the band got its start and closing the tour here. To repay the favour, we would formally like to invite Sunset Curve to perform. In the envelope is a mock-up poster as an option for the promo. Get the Sunset Curve’s people to get in touch. I can get the word out to some friends from some labels to come for a listen. Get in touch as soon as possible.

Manager of The Orpheum in Los Angeles,

Rudy West.

 “The Orpheum?” Luke screamed, yanking the paper from Alex to re-read it in complete shock, “We don’t have people!”

“But Crimson does.” You smirked, “On a temporary basis Crimson Queen formally offer our manager’s help.”

In his excitement, Luke lunged to pull you into a kiss freezing the room in shock.

“He got the girl.” Alex breathed elbowing Reggie in the side who’s mouth was open at his best friend kissing Reggie’s older sister. The older sister who was the driving force behind Luke wanting to form a band to impress her, “We need to tell Bobby!”

1995 was the best year for Luke Patterson. He got the girl, his band made it, his parents finally saw his dream was worth it.

The sound of music hypnotized the woman as she wandered down the hall to the open door of the large home. Nothing too over the top like Bobby’s mansion, but it was a nice size in a gated area. Your neighbours being Reggie on one side and Alex on the other side with his partner Willie; Willie had skated into Alex and into a love story pretty much.

Resting against the door edge of the designated home studio you saw Luke had moved a rocking recliner in. Softly playing in the room was a soft acoustic song recorded months previous as a surprise for you.

“When are the lessons starting?” You questioned bringing Luke’s attention to your soft smile and the love in your eyes. Luke’s grin widened glancing down at the miniature version of his love-filled eyes.

“Given her legendary parents, I think at two.” Luke chuckled shuffling the baby to the crook of his arm shifting, so you could curl into his side as well. Both eyes gazing at the little baby you had welcomed what felt like yesterday.

Stevie could fall asleep only to the lullaby her father had created during the pregnancy, and he had written. Stevie had Luke’s eyes, and so far her blonde hair had yet to darken so the question of if she’d take after your hair or his hair was unanswered.

“Hey sweetheart.” You whispered to your daughter falling asleep to the sound of her father’s voice in the room. An adorable yawn pulled from her little body as she nestled into Luke’s arms.

“She’s so gorgeous.” Luke breathed tears welling up as he could understand the reasoning behind his parents’ opinions in his teens. He truly felt terrible at hurting his mom now that he felt the love for his child.

“We did good Patterson.” You murmured back to the man who had held your heart since you were nineteen and back from tour. Your finger tracing Steve’s soft cheek, “I think she has your mom’s mouth.”

Luke’s lips lingered on your cheek heart full of love for his family with you and his little girl. He had known since his eleventh birthday he would marry you even if you were a year older. A year that made the difference when he was months older than his friends, so the year felt like two for you. At eighteen when was tentatively dating you, he knew he would marry you. He never anticipated the sheer amount of adoration for the little girl he would have at twenty-one.

God, he loved his life. He made up with his parents, his best friends, had the girl of his dreams, the most beautiful daughter and it all thanks to music. Can you see why he lives and breathes music?

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[13uswntimagines]

Always Yours (Christen Press x Reader)

Request: Christen Press x reader based on a song "hold me while you wait" by Lewis Capaldi

Author’s note: Hey dudes, so i couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I’m not sure how well it actually follows the song, but this is what made sense to me. I hope you enjoy! hit me up with Requests, Questions or if you just wanna say hi!

Christen sighed contently, settling back against her fiance, watching whatever boring reality show the team had chosen for the night. She reveled in the feeling of the women below her, glad that everything had finally worked out for the better. Everything was perfect, well almost. There was still a little twinge at the back of her mind that reminded her of the one person she had hurt more than the rest. 

“Have you guys seen this video yet? The fans are going crazy,” Kelley asked, pulling the women out of her thoughts. Tobin grabbed the outstretched phone, holding it so Christen could see it. 

“Is that Y/n,” Christen questioned, her breath leaving her when she saw your form on the small screen. The image was grainy, but it still made her heart stop to see you on stage. To see you following your dreams. 

“Yeah,” Kelley smiled at them, wiggling her eyebrows at Christen.

“Why are the fans sending it to us?” Tobin mumbled, her eyebrows furrowing. As far as the fans knew, you hadn’t spoken to Chris since college. 

“just watch” Kelley shrugged. 

*******

You smiled out at the audience as you stepped to the front of the stage. Their clapping and cheering were almost as loud as the pounding of your heart in your ears. You would never get enough of this feeling, and you wondered if it was the same one that she had every time she stepped onto the pitch. 

“Damn you guys are loud,” You laughed, the crowd roaring back. You shot them a cheeky smirk, pulling the acoustic guitar strap over your head and pushing the stray hairs that had fallen into your face back. 

“Do you mind if we get serious for a few minutes?” You asked into the mic, receiving a cheer of approval in response. As much as the fans loved you upbeat stuff, they went even crazier when it was just you, them, and your trusty guitar. 

“Ok, cool.” You smirked, beginning to pluck the opening chord to the next song in your set absentmindedly. 

“So, the past few years have been kinda a rollercoaster ride for me. You know, I met this person, and they were my… everything.” You stated, a wistful, faraway look taking over your usual charming smile.

“And sometimes I thought that they could love me too, but they could never make up their mind, and I settled for them just being there. I settled for them letting me hold them while they figured out what they wanted,” Your voice turned sad and bitter. You had wanted her more than anything on the planet, but she didn’t know if she wanted you or Tobin, and you wondered how close you were to be a thing. But she had chosen, and the heavy piece of paper tucked into your back pocket was like a knife in the balloons holding your Dream. 

“Today I got an invitation to their wedding,” You gave the audience a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “So this song is for them. An apology if you will, that I can’t make their wedding,” You finished quietly, changing to the chord progression for Hold Me While You Wait. 

****

“Holy shit,” Christen whispered, her eyes wide as the song began. It wasn’t her first time hearing it, but the emotions of this performance were off the charts. She could feel the heartbreak that permeated the song. It was the story of an almost relationship that tore you to pieces. An almost relationship that you tied yourself in knots to make work. The almost relationship you had with her. 

“She’s not usually this emotional,” Christen mumbled, her eyes wide. 

“The fans all think that you’re the one who made her this emotional. They think you two are the ones she dedicated the song to,” Kelley said quietly, shaking her head. 

“She never said that,” Tobin grumbled far too quickly. You were always her biggest competition, and you had been there for Christen when she wasn’t. When she was being an ass about commitment. 

“She didn’t have to,” Kelley rolled her eyes. So maybe she still had a little resentment about how the way things ended between her teammates and her best friend. 

“They’ve been speculating that the whole album is about Chris for months,” Tobin clapped back. It had started with an old photo of the two of you from college. An old photo that wasn’t supposed to ever see the light of day, and now they wouldn’t leave her alone about it. Your fans weren’t as crazy as some, but she was tired of being called out for being the one to come between you and Chris. “But it seems kinda petty to me,” Tobin groaned. You were usually the first one to tell the fans to leave them alone. You usually didn’t stoop to their level. 

“If it is, she has a good reason. Chris kept her on the hook for months,” Kelley spat back. 

“It was hard not to,” Christen spoke quietly after a few minutes. 

*****

Memory

“Just stay awhile,” You said from the bed, pulling the sheets tighter around you. You always hated this part, it made you feel dirty, used. She would beg you to come and then walk out like you were nothing more than a call girl. Ever since college, you were the one who would pick up the pieces that one Tobin Heath left behind. The one who held her while she made up her mind. 

“Y/n, I can’t stay,” She rolled her eyes at you, pulling her clothes on. 

“Yes, you can Chris. I love you so much, and I’ll do my damndest to show you every day,” You pleaded. Why couldn’t she see that you were the better option? The more healthy option. Tobin could never make up her mind. She didn’t want a real relationship unless it was convenient for her, and Christen just couldn’t seem to let her go. 

“I love her Y/n,” “and she loves me back, and she’s finally ready,” Christen said, finally turning to look at you. 

“How many times has she said that before, and how many times have you ended up right back here with me?” You huffed back, thinking about the thousands of times this had happened before. The thousands of times Christen had told you the same thing and then called you crying because she hadn’t been right. For a while, it had been fine with you. It had been alright because you got to hold the girl you had been in love with since you were kids while you waited for her to make up her mind. 

“Just don’t” She spat in your direction. Going from sweet to cruel in a second flat. 

“I’m trying to protect your Chris,” You growled back, standing from the bed.

“Don’t make this harder for me then it already is,” She mumbled lowly. And you sighed. 

The wait was over, and so was Christen’s desire to be held by you. 

“Turn around Chris,” Your voice was barley above a whisper. You knew that this would tear you apart, but you needed to hear it. You needed to know why. You opened your arms for the woman, who shot you a quizzical look.“Tell me more about her, something I don’t know,” You mumble, pulling Chris back into your arms, for what you know will probably be the last time. You buried your nose into her neck. 

“She scrunches her nose up in her sleep,” She said, running her fingers through your hair, soothing you. 

“Hmm,”

“And she loves kids. Like she goes out of her way to make them happy,” You could hear the smile in her voice, and you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to enjoy your last moments with the woman you loved. 

*****

You stepped away from the mic when the song was over, taking a gulping breath after the final note. Your chest heaved in a way that was unusual for you, and you casually wiped the tears out of your eyes. You weren’t an overtly emotional person, only able to articulate what you were feeling through song. You blinked a few times, stepping back up to the Mic. 

“Tell her thank you for Paris,” You hummed out the words that would probably get you into trouble, but right now you didn’t care. You knew this day was coming, but that didn’t mean you were ready for it. At least you knew that Tobin wouldn’t hurt her again. 

*****

“She’s crying,” Tobin said in shock. She had never, ever seen this much emotion out of you, even when you had come to say goodbye. 

“What happened in Paris? She never told me, and she won’t talk about it,” Kelley asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Christen and Tobin shared a look. 

*****

Two days before the Woman’s World Cup

“Chris is going to freak when she realizes that your here,” Tobin mumbled, settling down in the seat across from you. You had picked a cute cafe for this conversation. A conversation that you really didn’t want to have, but you felt you needed to. 

“I didn’t come to see her, I came to see you,” You husked out, taking a sip of your coffee. 

“That’s a first, I was like 99% sure you hated me,” Tobin leaned back in her chair in shock. The two of you had a tumultuous relationship to say the least. She was always chasing Christen, and you were always the one who cleaned up the fallout. 

“No Tobin, I don’t hate you.” You started, looking off into the distance, trying to control your emotions. You knew that this was inappropriate, but you had to be sure. You had to know.“I just… I need you to tell me one thing,” You finished, glancing back at your cup, adamantly not making eyecontact with the woman in front of you. 

“You flew to Paris to ask me a question?” She questioned in disbelief. She thought you would have fought harder. That you would have come to make a scene and try to win the girl that you had held for so long. She took in your form, defeat visible in every movement you made. You weren’t the same person you had been all those years ago. It was like your sunny personality was gone. 

“Yeah, “ You nodded, finally looking into Tobins worried brown eyes. She could almost see the cracks in your soul. The piece of you that Christen had taken with her when she chose Tobin. 

“Ask away,” She said with a wave of her hand. 

“Do you love her?” You asked seriously. Clenching your fist on the table. You needed to know. All your efforts would be worth it if she did. You would be able to live with yourself if she did. 

“Of course I do,” Tobin said in exasperation. 

“No Tobin, do you love her so much that you feel like you can’t breathe without her. Like you’re in the dark, and she lights you up?” You grabbed her hand, looking her solemnly in the eyes. 

“I love her so much that it terrifies me, that I don’t think I could live if she didn’t choose me,” She responded, with as much honesty as she could muster. You nodded back, sitting back in your seat and taking a sip of your drink. 

“Promise me something?” You requested after a few seconds of silence. She waved her hand again. You gave her a thoughtful look. “That you won’t let her go…” 

“I already bought the ring. I was gonna give it to her after we win,” Tobin admitted with a blush. You nodded again. 

“Don’t wait,” You said quietly, placing a 50 on the table and walking away. Tobin watched you go, shaking her head. She would never understand why you had settled for being Christens play thing. 

*****

8 Hours after they won the World Cup

“You can’t waste your life like this,” Christen rolled her eyes as she entered the hotel lobby. She was in france.

“Who said it’s a waste?” You smirked back, standing and placing your hands in your pockets. 

“I did. You just flew to Paris for me to turn you away,” She huffed back, approaching you and pulling you into a hug. No opportunity to make her smile was a waste to you. 

“I wish that I could change your mind,” You hummed into her neck, refraining from placing your usual kiss on her neck. 

“I know,” She said back resolutely.

“I didn’t come to ruin your night, just to tell you congrats,” You mumbled, pulling back so you could look at her, sending her the widest smile you could. 

“I don’t know if I believe you..” She quarked her eyebrows up at you. 

“I just wanted to give you this and congratulate you on your big win champ. I always promised to the first copy of my album,” You laughed, pulling the the first copy of your first album ever out of your back pocket. It was funny, even now she was holding you while she waited for Tobin to be ready to go celebrate with her. 

“Take it. I signed it and everything,” You said quietly, pushing the square plastic that held the key to your future into her hands. No it wasn’t like the art that Tobin made, but it was yours. 

“Y/n” She started. Placing her hand flat on the plastic, shaking her head. 

“At least it’ll sell on eBay if you don’t want it.” You gave her a sad smile, placing the album that she had inspired into her palm and turning away. “If you ever need to… talk, just call me,” You said over your shoulder, leaving the Hotel. Trying not to think about how this was probably the last time you would ever see her. 

*****

“She told me to Marry Chris,” Tobin murmured thoughtfully, squeezing the women in her arms that much tighter. She was lucky and she she knew it. 

“I didn’t know that,” Christen smiled, leaning back and placing a kiss on her fiance’s lips. 

“Yeah, she said that she wanted you to be happy, and us fighting over you wasn’t making you happy,” Tobin nodded, brushing a strand of hair from Christens ear. Even in your worst moment, all you wanted was for the girl of your dreams to be happy. That was what love was, to want the best for that person, even if it wasn’t you, and to hold them until they knew what they wanted. 

“What did she write in the album she gave you?” Kelley asked, pulling the couple out of their sappy moment. Christen blinked for a moment. 

******

Christen’s hands were shaking as she watched you walk away, almost like a drug addict coming down from the high. She glanced down at the album in her hand, aptly named “the heartbreak hotel”. You always did have a flare for dramatics. Her lips quirked up at our loopy handwriting. 

Together or apart, we both accomplished our dreams. Thank you for allowing me to hold your for as long as you did. Both our waits are over, and i wish you nothing but happiness. 

Always yours, 

Y/n

PS. say yes to your happy ending.

[tanakavox]

A look into the multiverse chapter 8 SAOA

Many thanks to my friend friend @bssaz97 for his work on the reactions. And TheGoldenBoy2188 for the strict for SAOA making writing easy. The next reaction will be a suprise so stay tune.

Amidst the streets of Mantle, Whitley Schnee walked towards a destination while wearing a disguise consisting of a coat, scarf, shaded glasses, and a flat cap. He had a mission and he would not waste this opportunity!

It was not every day that he could simply leave the manor without Father's permission or notice so he needed to be quick but not noticeable. He had waited months for this day to arrive. Whitley had pre-ordered the latest MMO game of his favorite game series a week before the initial release date and had come to pick it up. Having connections in the right places certainly did have its benefits. The only downside was he had to acquire his prize somewhere outside of his father's notice. So what other place to go than Atlas's sister kingdom.

Outside of his notice, a young white haired faunus woman with sheep ears followed close behind him. Fiona Thyme was out picking up some food for the rest of the Happy Huntresses when she noticed an unfamiliar person walking around. She knew almost everyone on this side of Mantle, so a new person popping out of the blue was very suspicious. Normally she would have reported this back to Robyn but upon further inspection she recognized who this person was.

It was the sole son of the worst man on Remnant and the newly appointed heir of the Schnee Dust Company, Whitley Schnee! Why was he here in Mantle?! Fiona determined he was up to no good and decided to follow him. Wherever the SDC goes, trouble usually follows!

Whitley finally arrived at the destination he was seeking… the Post Office! Now all he had to do was open the door, enter the establishment aaaaaand- stare dumbfounded as the inside of this place was a theatre.

"What the-? This isn't the post office. Where am I?!" Whitley shouted at no one in particular.

"Ah-ha! Caught you right where I- Huh? Where the hell? This isn't the post office!" Fiona also dumbfounded.

"Whitley?" Both Weiss and Winter stated in a mix of shock and disbelief at seeing their little brother. Maybe some hostility on Weiss part.

"Weiss? Winter? How-?"

"What the hell is this?!" A loud female voice shouted as four more people arrived out of nowhere. Consisting of two normal sized humans, a bunny faunus and a very large man.

"Coco/Velvet/Fox/Yatsuhashi!" Teams RWBY and JNR said collectively.

"Oh hello everyone! This… is a surprise! When did you get to Vacuo?" Velvet asked the group.

Fiona turned towards the new strangers, "Vacuo? What are you talking about? You're all in Mantle?"

"I'm most certain we're in Vacuo at the time." Yatsu spoke.

"You are in neither at the moment." Ozpin spoke up.

"What the- Teach? Weren't you supposed to be dead?!" Coco confusingly points out.

"I believe an explanation is in order."

*One short but informative explanation later*

"Wait so we were brought here to watch… alternate realities?" Fiona says after she and all the new arrivals had been told everything about the theater.

"We call them viewings but yeah pretty much." Ruby said.

"Hold on, I can understand why all of you were brought here, seeing as you all are huntsmen and huntresses. But that doesn't explain why I'm here." Whitley, having taken off his disguise.

"A great question indeed." Weiss mutters.

"I think I have a theory." Blake stepped forward. "So far now, I've noticed that the people who are here have at least some involvement in the viewings that we have been seeing. Remember that one viewing we saw of Whitley being stuck inside a video game?"

"I was stuck in a video game?"

"Also if you die in the game you die for real." Nora added.

Whitley's eyes widened at the implications.

"Well you're still stuck as far as we know. But apparently you're very good at the game so you might be fine." Jaune clarifies. Slightly feeling guilty that his alternate is the one who traps him there.

"Oh joy, now I'm trapped inside a place against my will in two realities!" Whitley throws his hands in frustration.

"Oh boo hoo! Is the rich boy gonna cry because nothings going his way today?" Fiona says in a mocking tone.

"Oh I'm sure you would know so much about crying and complaining about trivial things, thief." He shot back at Fiona.

"At least I think about the people of Mantle! When was the last time you thought of someone outside of yourself, Schnee!" Fiona retorted.

Winter sensing that this conversation was going nowhere stepped in between her brother and the happy huntress.

"Enough! None of us came here by choice so let's just stop this pointless arguing and move on."

Fiona huffed, "I couldn't agree more." She stomped away from the two siblings and found herself a seat in the theater.

Winter sighed, "It may not be ideal but as long as you are here Whitley, I would just suggest sitting tight and wait until you or all of us are able to leave this place."

"Hmph, very well. Thank you sister, it almost sounds like you care." Whitley took his leave and found a seat that was about four seats away from Weiss's team.

"Isn't there anywhere else you want to sit," Weiss practically hisses.

"Oh but Weiss it's the only seat that's close enough to you." Whitley affirmed.

Weiss groans in frustration, 'Hopefully it's only for one viewing…'

An acoustic guitar plays in the background as a montage of the events of and post-Episode 1 appears on the screen and a narrator began to talk.

" A month had passed since that fateful day. When everyone's world got all twisted, leaving them stranded in a castle in the sky. Since then, 2000 poor souls came to an abrupt and tragic end. Some by bad luck, others by sheer stupidity. I mean, really. Why would you just stand in fire? Anyways, that didn't bother The Kid none. He only cared about one thing, and one thing alone. Himself. 'Cuz in a game of life or death, you either live... or you die."

The scene transitions to Shirou leaning against a wall with an annoyed look on his face.

"What?! Two thousand of the players have died already!" Ruby yelled, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Not surprising, seeing as many of them looked weak last viewing." Cinder coolly replies.

Many huntsmen and huntresses glared at the red clad woman. She paid them no mind.

"Well thank you very much Narrator, you're doing a wonderful job of explaining the total death count of this video game prison." Whitley commented dryly.

"Oh, WOW. What brilliant insight! It's so deep it loops right back around to being stupid." Shirou snarked.

"The Kid ranted at no one, it slowly dawning just how alone he truly was" Narrator continued..

Whitley's eyes narrowed, "Am I being sassed by the narrator?"

"Maybe you said something to piss them off." Fiona added.

"Wait, what was that?" Shirou asks, shocked.

"He asked the sky, like a preacher to his silent gods."

"What gods? What are you talking about?! It's all bullshit metaphors with you!"

"He cried, not knowing the difference between a simile and a metaphor. The tininess of his brain dwarfed only by the tininess of his di-"

Whitley's eyes narrowed and face twitched at how much of an annoyance this narrator was being.

Weiss was doing her best to conceal her smile but was failing and breathes out a laugh. She was enjoying the exchange that her brother was going through and found it amusing. Her team gave her a side glance while Fiona and a few others laughed at the roast session the young Schnee was being given.

"Narrator off." Shirou commands the system with an annoyed tone.

"YOUCANSILENCEMEBUTYOUCAN'TSILENCETHETRU-" The narrator got cut off.

"Dick."

"Thank gods that's over, that narrator was extremely rude." Whitley sighed thankfully now that the narrator was silenced.

Weiss and Fiona grumbled that their fun was ruined.

Fade into December 2, 2022, on a strategy meeting led by man called Diabel. He gave a big smiled out to the crow

"Hey everyone. Thank you all for coming to our little powwow. Now, I know many of you may be discouraged by the fact that 2000 people have died so far."

" WHAT?!" A player screamed

" 2000 PEOPLE ARE DEAD?!" Another screamed.

"IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN A MONTH YET!"

"OH MY GOD, WE REALLY ARE FUCKED!"

"Pretty much, sucks to be you!" Mercury laughed.

"These are the people that have to survive this game. Honestly what was blondie expecting," Emerald facepalms.

"Hey! Just because they've lost numbers doesn't mean that they have to lose hope!" Ruby glared at the two assassins.

"And I know even more of you are a little down because we haven't even cleared the First Floor yet." Diabel added, trying to keep the smile on his face.

"WE HAVEN'T?!"

"I THOUGHT WE WERE ALMOST DONE...!"

"You were saying." Cinder looked back at Ruby.

"Well…" Ruby trailed off, thinking of a way to defend these players.

Diabel's smile wavered

"Uh, you guys do know there are 100 Floors, right?"

"WHAT?!" A crowd of players yelled.

Diabels sighed a bit.

Ruby, despite her best attempts, also sighed and sat back down.

"Oh jeez, I am just making things worse. Point is, we found the Boss Room!"

The crowd gasps.

"Now, we've formulated a few strategies with some help from the beta testers-"

"BETA TESTERS?!" A voice yells out.

"Oh goddammit!" Diabel groaned argnily

A player named Kibaou jumps in.

Kibaou, what do you want? Diabel looked tired addressing this player.

"Beta testers? They're the reason we're stuck in this game!" Kibaoyu sneered

Many that heard this player's statement and quickly frowned at his blatant accusations towards these 'beta-testers.'

"This guy can't be serious, right?" Coco stated.

Dianel looked at Kibaou flatterausted at the stupidity of the statement he heard

"What?! Do you have any evidence to back that up?"

Kiabrou scoffed at the question. "Pfft! Evidence. I don't need no evidence. Isn't that right, Jesus?" He points to a player named "Jesus"

" It's pronounced "Hey-Zeus", and I don't know you."

"Wow, really selling your reasoning by having no one else to support your claim." Jaune stated while crossing his arms.

"Well, they still should have helped us newbies!" He exclaimed

"If I might interject...:" A deep voice called out.

A big muscular man gets up and comes to the stage.

Velvet taps Yatsu's arm excitedly, "Hey you're in this game too Yatsu! …oh gods you're in this game too."

"So it seems," Yatsu, doing his best to keep a straight face.

Coco lowered her shades along with a confused look. As far as she knew, Velvet was the only one who played video games on their team. Unless...

"And who the hell are you?!"

"I am known by many names.", "Closed eyed demon. The memory easer., "Hooked clawed tiger". But you? You may call me... "Velvet".

"Velvet huh? That's a... pretty masculine name." Kibaoru said adwarkley

"Shouldn't be. It's a woman's name." Velvet replied casually.

"Damn it. I had a feeling but I didn't want to be right." Coco cursed quietly while shaking her head.

"Wait, why would Yatsu have a character named after me? That doesn't- ...Oh ...oh my gods." Velvet's eyes widened at the implications, tears starting to build. That is until she felt a nudge on one of her shoulders. She turned her head and there was Yatsuhashi looking at Velvet with a gaze that said, 'It's not your fault.'

"Kay, I don't know how to talk to you."

"Good. Then you can shut up and listen. Does everyone here have this book in their inventory?"

" Yeah.

" Yes."

"Yup."

"Yeah."

" No... Wait, can I change my answer?"

Velvet/Yatsushi held up a book to show to everyone.

" This book is full of tips and strategies on how to survive this game, put together by the beta testers. Everyone read it, yet some people still died. The beta testers did everything they could."

"Yeah, that means Mace Hair has no reason to blame the beta testers!" Ruby points out.

Many of her friends nodded and Yastu's team smiled at the sound defense his alternate presented.

" Actually, I didn't read it." One player chimed up.

"Yeah, I didn't read it either."

"I skimmed it."

"OH COME ON!" Many members of the audience shouted in agitation.

"What? Didn't ANY of you read it?! It is literally a matter of life and death." Velvet exclaimed

"Well, dude. It's like 80 pages." A player pointed

"2000 people are dead!"

"THEY ARE?!"

"Again. These are the people that have to survive this game." Emerald reiterates.

Brief pause. Shirou looks shocked at their stupidity.

"I am so done with you people." Velvet mutters, walking off the stage.

" What do you mean "you people"?" A player asked a bit offended.

The Faunus in the room narrowed at their eyes at the implications made by that player.

"What do you mean, "you people"?" Fiona asks no one in particular.

Velvet and Kibaou take their seats.

Diabel continued with the meeting. "So, as Mister Hooked clawed tiger was saying, this book has some great strategies, including how to beat the First Boss, Illfang."

He clears his throat and starts reading from the guide.

"So as you enter the Boss Room, he's gonna throw wave after wave of disposable minions at you... and you must answer in kind."...?

"Uh, what?" A player asks, mirroring Diabel confusion.

Many in the audience reacted just as confused. All except Whitley, who had a good feeling where this was going.

Diabel continues

"Send the weaker players first. Good rule of thumb: If a player asks you for gold 2 seconds after meeting you, front lines."

"Ha, serves 'em right!" Kiaboru said with a laugh

"If they hijack conversations to rant about their political views, front lines."Diabel said with a smirk looking at Kiaboru.

Kibaou went pale. "Aw, shit."

"Ha! Serves you right!" Nora laughed.

"If they ask female players for pics of their boobs, front lines."

"OH BULLSHIT!" One player screamed out in rage.

"THAT'S DISCRIMINATION!" Another one howled.

"BOO!"

Many of the women in the theater frown at the way those players reacted. Winter was more than certain that those players were the type that participated in the mentioned acts the speaker spoke on.

Diabel smiles and waves them down. "Now, now, people. I think there are some valid points being made here. Now, it goes on to say when Illfang's health goes into the red, he's going to switch from his axe and buckler to something called a "Talwar". At that point we should initiate a strategy called "The Final Solution" and- I'm just gonna stop reading! Jesus, who wrote this thing?"

Shirou giggles evilly.

"Of course Whitley wrote that book." Weiss sighed.

"Why sister, it sounds like that didn't surprise you in the least." Whitley pretending to act hurt.

"Please. The manipulative tone of the text almost makes one sound too much like you." Weiss bit back.

"Well I suppose you would know." A wide smile on Whitley's face.

Weiss scoffs turning her head away from her traitorous brother.

Team R_BY and Winter watched the exchange and sighed.

"Okay, so the guide's a bust. But it'll be fine. I'll come up with a great plan for us." Diabel smiles at the crowed.

"Like what?"

" Well... we... could... Uh... Uhhhh... I'm open to suggestions."

"Woah, guys, we could- we could, you know, like, group up and-"

"And hit it 'til it DIES!" Another yelled finishing the other player sentence

"Woo, nice!"

"Yeah!"

" High five!"

The two hive five.

"Well. It's something, right?." Velvet does her best to be optimistic.

Many of the more experienced members of the theater shake their heads.

"That's... a good start. But let's hear some other suggestions."

"I'd like to hear more about this "Final Solution"." A player in a german accent piped up.

"Fuck it, group up." said Diabel said tirely.

Shirou slides down the seats towards a girl, named Fiona, who's on her own.

Fiona blinks in surprise, "Oh my gods, that's me! I'm in the game! Hey other me, stay away from the Schnee!"

"You have my condolences." Weiss says to the sheep faunus.

"So, why aren't, uh, you joining anyone's group?" Shirou asked.

"I have my reasons." She said mysterioly

" Is it because you're a girl?"

"No. It's because... I don't know how to play."

"Because you're a girl?"

Many of the females and males who enjoy video games, such as Yang, Ruby, Velvet, Nora,, Jaune, Oscar, Ren, surprisingly Mercury and Emerald, along with Fiona herself, threw questioning glares towards the current heir of the SDC. Weiss and Winter glared at him as well but for other reasons.

Whitley looks around to see all the glares directed towards him. "Why are you all looking at me? I said nothing."

"No!" Fiona snapped. "It's just... I don't know how to open the menu."

"What?" Both Fiona and Whitley asked.

"Jinx!" Nora shouts.

"What?!" Shriou looked at the girl in shock. "But you can't do anything in this game without the menu. How have you survived all month?"

Cut to Fiona holding a piece of bread. She is staring at it intensely. "HOW DO I EAT YOU?!" She screamed at it.

Many laughs were had at the poor girl's predicament, despite some of them doing their best to not do so but could not help themselves.

Fiona slowly sank into her chair, covering her face in shame. Her alternate was the utter definition of a newb player.

Back to the present.

"It's... been a challenge…" She muttered before looking at Shirou. "What about you? Why haven't you join the others?"

"Oh, lots of reasons. Mostly because they're a bunch of mouth-breathing neckbeards who think "LMAO" is how French people laugh."

" Ha ha, that's so Le Mao!" Said one player far away causing to Shirou shudder.

Whitley in the theater also shudders in disgust. If these were the people that he would have been surrounded by inside the game, then he too would have avoided them like a plague.

"Wow. You certainly... speak from the heart."

"Funny, I thought I was speaking from my mouth. But, eh, shows what I know about biology." He said with a smirk.

"No one else wanted you in their group, did they?"

"Shut up! It was mutual!"

"And who would blame me? Have you seen the players of this game? I'm honestly surprised they lived this long."

"You're just saying that 'cause no one wanted a smartass on their team." Fiona smirked.

"I'm sorry, were you speaking Menu Girl?" Whitley nonchalantly retorts.

Fiona's face grew red in embarrassment and agitation. She wanted nothing more than to raise her hand and activate her semblance right now. 'Give me a reason Schnee, I dare you.'

It cuts back to Diabel smiling and clapping his hands.

"Alright, looks like everyone's grouped up. Get plenty of rest tonight, people! We leave at noon!"

A player groans "Noon?"

"That's so early!"

Diabel sighs. "Alright. What about 1 o'clock?"

" Dude, come on!"

" God, fine! We leave at the crack of... 2:30, I guess. Lazy butts…"

"Christ, I'm gonna have to set my alarm."

Everyone in the theater did not have high expectations for these players as they would face their first challenge.

Cuts to December 3, 2022 Floor 1: Illfang's Tower, 7:30pm. Everyone's at the Boss Door and everyone except Diabel is exhausted.

"Okay, so there were a few more stairs than we realized. Apparently real life athletic ability translates into the game. Good to know." Diabel looked out to the sad sight in front of him.

"Oh, god. I can feel my lungs trying to kill me." One player whined.

" Is this sweat?!"

" I peed a little."

" Jesus, this is sad." Diabel said with a grimace.

One player vomits.

"Congrats Jaune, someone else has now become the new Vomit Boy of this viewing!" Yang exclaimed.

Jaune rolled his eyes at her attempt at making him feel better.

"Fuck it. Why don't you all just take a Cheetos and Mountain Dew break, and we'll reconvene in an hour."

1960 Batman-Esque transition with Cheetos and Mountain Dew.

" Dammit, guys! I was kidding! You weren't supposed to actually take an hour!" Dibal said in a rage."God, we've lost so much time. Let's just do this already! You all know the plan!"

Illfang jumps into the center of the room and roars. Kobolds pop in, and an error message pops up on the third one that says "Error: "Sentinel_ " not found."

Ruby and Nora laughed at the mob that got glitched.

"Alright, men!" Diabel began,"Form up and-"

"EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!" A player screams

The armies converge on each other.

"Are they serious! You can't just go gung-ho in a boss battle!" Jaune exclaimed at the increasingly apparent, dim-witted players.

"What?! No! Goddammit guys!" Diabel begins to bark out orders. "Squad B, quit attacking the Boss and keep the Sentinels off us! C, D, stop attacking from the front! Do you even know what "flank" means?! Squad F, for fuck's sake! Stop playing Bejeweled! *Groans* Squad G, get in there and help A and B!"

"Got it!" Shirou said with a nod rushing in.

"Don't talk back to…" Diabel did a double take."l Holy shit, really?!"

"How is Whitley the most sensible minded player in this game?!" Weiss asked.

"Weiss, have you seen the other players?" Blake asked her in a deadpanned tone.

"...Yes you're right, that's actually too much of an insult." Weiss admits.

Shirou attacks a Sentinel, leaving Fiona to finish it off.

"Okay, Fiona! What you're gonna wanna do here is-"

Fiona lets out a Battle Cry and kills the Sentinel in one hit.

Fiona in the theater perked up at this display, "Oh my- I can fight! Oh thank gods I can fight!"

Shirou eyes widened in shock "Wow, I thought she was hopeless, but her technique is flawless. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's even better than I-"

"Hey Shirou! I killed the thing and now it says I have XPs! Is that bad? Am I dying?! Fiona cried out to him in fear."

Shirou rolls his eyes"Or... maybe... not."

"Miss Fiona, either your alternate is very lucky or is very out of base with technology. I can't tell which it is." Whitley stated.

"Shut up Schnee, she's trying!" Fiona defends her other self.

Illfang's health drops into the red. He snarls at the players and he tosses his weapons.

"Alright, men! This last part's gonna take careful coordination…" Diabel ran towards Illfang. "which is why I'm just gonna do it myself!"

Diabel charges his weapon art. Illfang draws his Ōdachi.

Ruby's eyes widened, "OH NO!"

Shirou looked and saw the weapon and his eyes widened calling to Diabel. "Oh shit! Diabel, look out! That's not a Talwar! It's an Ōdachi!"

"What's the difference?!" Diabel ask still running towards Illfang.

"Well, a Talwar is of Indian descent while an Ōdachi is Japanese! While both are primarily slashing weapons, the Talwar was favored by cavalrymen, as opposed to an Ōdachi which was mainly used for dick measuring!" As Shirou is talking, Illfang starts jumping off the walls.

" What's your point?!" Diabel asked impaintely.

"Well if you let me finish, I was getting to that! You see…"

Diabel gets hit by Illfang, screaming in pain.

Many of the huntsmen and huntresses in the theater either gasped in fear or looked away at the surely doomed player.

"What's happening? Did I miss something?" Fox called out.

"Oops." Shirou sheepishly said.

Illfang hits Diabel again, sending him flying.

"DIABEL!" Kibaou yelled out.

Illfang pops down in front of Kibaou and roars. A message pops up "Bonus Item: Soiled Pants". Above Kibaou

"Hey, rare drop!' A player said cheerfully.

Mercury laughed at the joke while most of the others were disgusted by the fact that that achievement was unlockable.

Shirou runs over to Diabel and holds him up.

" I was trying to say an Ōdachi's a little bit longer than a Talwar, so it'll have more reach and do a bit more damage."

"And why couldn't you say that first?" Diabel asked weakly

"Yeah you dummy! You almost might've killed him!" Ruby cries out.

Whitley was actually taken aback by that statement. Sure he had moments of pride and arrogance, sometimes he looked down on people but he didn't believe he would ever intentionally kill someone.

" I like to think of myself as a teacher. Anyway, drink this."

Shirou tries to give Diabel a healing potion but he stopped Shirou shaking his head.

"No. It's better this way. I just can't do it anymore. I had such high hopes at first. But now? Our best player is a girl who thinks DPS is some kind of sex thing." Both turned to glance to Fiona.

"I know. It's weird, right?"

Fiona sulked more into her chair.

"You're clearly not like the rest of them. How do you stand it, Shirou? Where do you draw your strength?" Diabel look at Shirou like a sage.

Shirou sigh and drops his wisdom onto him. "I've been playing MMO's a long time, Diabel, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that lions do not concern himself with the opinions of sheep. Just take that little voice in your head that tells you to be tactful and understanding... and shoot it. Shoot it in the goddamn face."

" You are so wise. If only I'd met you sooner. Perhaps, things would have been different. You must lead them now. Show them this game can be beaten." Diabel let's go of Shirou wrist.

Weiss was taken aback that this man was actually willing to place trust in this alternate of her brother. This stranger who barely even knows him placed the lives of all the players into his hands. Much like how she tried to trust Whitley once… this caused a bitter frown to grow on her face in recollection. Even if this was a different version of him, it was still Whitley in her eyes.

Shirou smiles fondly at Diabel. "Another life... in another time... I think we could have been friends."

"I... doubt it." Diabel gasps out before turning to shattered glass, dying.

" Well fuck you, too!" Shirou said angrily his smile dropping into a frown.

Fiona slips in by Shirou's side and began to lay out a plan.

"Alright, Shirou. Here's what we'll do. One counters his blows to knock him off balance and the other switches in to attack. Rinse. Repeat. Victory."

Shirou looked at her with one eye. "You came up with that, but you can't open a menu."

"Shut up!" Fiona cried out.

Illfang roars and they take off running toward him.

"Alright, so you counter and I'll attack!" Shirou yelled to Fiona.

"What? No, it's my plan! I should attack!" Fiona yelled back.

"Fine, just get ready!"

Shirou makes a battle cry and counters Illfang's attack.

"SWITCH!"

Fiona moves in and gets her cloak destroyed by Illfang before attacking revealing white curly hair and sheep ears.

" See? You almost got yourself killed! I'll attack him!" Shirou yelled again and began to attack Illfang.

"Oh, that was a fluke, and you know it! He's mine!" Fiona yelled back.

Fiona attacks Illfang.

"Oh shit. They're actually giving that boss the work!" Coco called out.

"He's mine!" Shirou yelled.

Shirou blocks Illfang's next attack, but Fiona attacks him before Shirou can do so himself.:

"Mine!" Fiona screams

"NO! HE'S! MIIIIIIIIIIINE!"

Shirou slices Illfang and he explodes. Everyone is stunned. Lame party kazoo sound effect and a banner with the word "CONGRATULATION" appears.

"Yeah!" A player cheer.

This caused almost everyone in the audience to laugh. Despite the dark humor of it all, it was still pretty hilarious.

"What happened? Did they win?" Fox asks

"Oh yes, I'm sorry Fox! They beat the boss and a victory banner came out."

"...heh." Fox chuckled.

Shirou is panting. He gets an item as a reward for defeating the Boss.

"Congratulations!" Velvet said, patting him on the back. "That was even more impressive than that cat that learned to play."

Cut to a player with a cat's head, with another player staring at it.

"Meow."

"Huh what did you know?" Yang replied.

"Oh my god! You guys can see it too?! So I'm not crazy! Isn't that great, Jesus?!" We see things from the players' perceptive, with a giant hallucination of Jesus Christ looming over the crowd.

"That's right, Jeffrey. Now... kill them all." Jesus said, his voice growing darker.

"As you command, my Lord." Jeffrey whispered.

"Somethings very wrong with that guy." Qrow states.

"I honestly agree with you, Branwen… Blegh! That left a horrible taste in my mouth." Winter stated.

Cut back to Velvet talking to Shirou. The other players are applauding his victory.

"You've led us to victory, Shirou. These men and I will follow you to hell itself. Now... address your people." Velvet is smiling and pushing Shirou to the crowd.

Shirou gets up and smirks. "I always knew this day would come. Ahem. Fellow gamers! We have traveled far and up many stairs to get to this point. Fighting side by side, noobs, and leets, alike. I'd like to take a moment to say that I couldn't have done it without the help of each and every one of you."

"Aw, that's a nice thing to say-" Velvet was cut off when Shirou counties.

"Of course, I'm not a liar, so I'm not gonna say any of that."

"Oh shit."

"I thought as much." Weiss states.

Shirou grins look at the group. "I mean, really. I could've done this whole Boss Fight myself. But to be fair, I guess you did absorb a bit of damage for me, which was nice. You were an adequate meat shield, and no one can ever take that away from you."

"Fuck. Fuck! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Velvet started to say.

"So for those of you who came in late, and that one guy playing Bejeweled back there... shoot for the stars... it'll make it more fun when I kick you back into the dirt."

"You're not better than us!" Kiaboru said.

"Yeah! What makes you think you're so cool?!" Nora shouts to the screen.

Shirou equips the coat he got for beating Illfang and smugly looks at the group."My sweet-ass coat begs to differ."

"Dammit, he's got us there." one player muttered.

Shirou ascends the stairs out of the Boss Room. Fiona follows him and grabs him by the shoulder. "Shirou, wait!"

Those in the audience looked on at Fiona's alternate in hope. Surely she could turn him around after their excellent display of partnership.

"I want half." She said, staring at him blankly.

That hope was quickly squashed, shot at, and finally burned to death via gasoline and cracking a fire dust crystal.

Shirou turns to her confused. " I'm... sorry. What?!"

"I want half the coat. I did half the work, I should get half the coat." Fiona explain and extends her hand for him give it to her.

"No! It's not fabric I can cut! It's just a bunch of 1s and 0s!" Shirou was getting frustrated.

"Fine, then give me the 1s."

" Fuck you! I want the 1s!" He groans and open the menu. "I am not having this argument. I'm disolving this party." Shirou opens his menu and "Di-solves" their party.

"Shirou! If you walk away with my half of the coat, I will make your life a living hell!" Fiona screamed.

"You know what? Fine! I'll give you the damn coat! Just send me a trade request."

"A... what?"

Fiona's eyes widened as she watched from the theater, "No…"

Shirou grins viciously "Oh, it's quite simple really... Just open your menu." Shirou starts laughing maniacally as he walks out the doors as Fiona screams at him:"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" At him.

Outro Plays.

Fiona screams, "I can't believe the nerve of that-! GRAAAAH!"

"Can you please stop screaming! You're going to cause everyone's ears to bleed." Whitley said while using a handkerchief to rub his ears.

Fiona huffed then matched off, going to another place in the theater.

"Well that was interesting. So you all say there's other viewings where we see other worlds besides this one." Coco asked the group.

"Oh yeah, we've seen a couple worlds ourselves, but only a handful I'd say." Yang admits.

"Well as long as we're here, we might as well take time to catch up." Velvet smiled.

"Yeah, this will be great! It's almost like we're back at Beacon, right Weiss? ...Weiss?" Ruby looks beside her but noticed that her partner was not with them anymore.

In another side of the theater, the all three Schnee siblings stand together. Both of the youngest siblings look at Winter who brought them here.

Winter clears her throat, "I understand that there are some… tension between the three of us during this viewing. So I asked you both here so that we may come to terms with our situation."

Weiss scoffs, "Come to terms with him! I highly doubt that."

Whitley crosses his arms, "Yes it does seem like a lost cause Winter."

"Enough! Both of you!" Winter raised her voice causing both of her younger siblings to go rigid. "I'm not expecting you to get along or even apologize to each other at the moment. What I ask is if you two can at least act civil with one another while in the theater?"

Both Weiss and Whitley looked at each other and sneered at each other.

"Why of course I can be civil with Whitley. It is a virtue of a lady to be civil at all times." Weiss said with hidden venom.

"Quite true, but being civil is also a quality an heir of the Schnee family must cultivate as well. So I look forward to spending this immeasurable amount of time with you my sisters." Whitley said with his best presentable smile.

"Yes, how I enjoy us taking this time to reacquaint with each other." Weiss said while one of her eyes was twitching.

"Well then sister, shall we?" Whitley gestured for Weiss to go ahead of him. Almost would have been believable if one did not notice the glint in his eyes and his strained smile.

Winter watched as both Weiss and Whitley walked back to the auditorium where everyone else had remained.

"...This can only end badly."

Hope you enjoyed.

[monabela]

hello! it seems to be @aphrarepairweek2021 and I'm not one to ignore that! here's some... domestic denfin stuff for day 1, language. I've gone for a pretty liberal approach to the prompts this year, but that's mostly so that all my fics will fit into the same universe :> (it is also the same universe as two of last year's rarepairweek fics! I'll make a tag for it) (that is also the reason I had to call sve berwald and not torbjörn like I usually do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) they will all be standalone little fics but take place in the same au, over the same sort of time period!

--

in major scale

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Finland (Tuomi), Estonia (Eduard), Sweden (Berwald), Hungary (Erzsébet) + past SuFin mentioned word count: 2219 summary: Tuomi admires how much Søren cares about other people. It inspires him to do the same.

--

A series of thumps and clomps heralds Søren’s arrival home. Tuomi looks up with amusement when the door of his little home studio in the back of their house bursts open.

“Tuomi!” Søren shouts. He brings with him the smell of recent rain and early spring blossoms.

Eduard, who is sitting behind Tuomi at his keyboard and wearing headphones, very nearly tumbles off his stool in shock.

“Søren!” Tuomi just returns, while his brother rights himself and glares. “You seem unusually excited.”

Eduard snorts, which makes Søren grin. ‘Unusually excited’ means something different when applied to him than most other people.

“Guess what!” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His socked feet are both tapping on the ground, with no rhythm to it. Tuomi is sure he couldn’t say what’s got into him; as far as he knows, Søren was just looking after his young nephews for the afternoon.

“Your brother didn’t hide the sugar well enough,” he guesses.

“No, that’s—well, he didn’t, but that’s not my point. Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Now, he waves his arms around wildly. “My brother’s gettin’ married, Tuomi! I’m so proud of him.”

Turning slightly, Tuomi exchanges an amused look with his own brother, who has taken his headphones off and is leaning forward over his keyboard, elbows planted over the keys.

“Now, Søren,” Eduard starts, using his haughtiest voice, which is very haughty. It’s an odd talent.

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts, though he’s still grinning, “bring up the time he and Tuomi were plannin’ on gettin’ hitched, ‘cause that was ages ago and ain’t relevant anymore.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduard holds up his hands placatingly, and Tuomi just snickers. Søren’s right, he thinks; it’s been over fifteen years since then, and although the whole thing where he took up with the brother of the man who was nearly his husband was awkward at first, for all that it happened several years later, he’s since become good friends with Berwald again. It’s probably better this way.

“That’s great, Søren!” he just says. “And you’re gonna be the best man, I assume?”

“Of course!” His dark blue eyes crinkle at the corners, scrunching up his many freckles in laugh lines and dimples. Tuomi really admires how much Søren cares about other people, even if sometimes it comes at the expense of himself. Tuomi can always remedy that, after all.

“That means you’re gonna have to help with a bunch of organizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound do skeptical of me, Eduard!” Pushing away from the door, Søren lightly strums the strings of an uncovered acoustic guitar sitting in its stand before taking a large step towards Tuomi and bending down to kiss him over the microphone between them, Tuomi angling his own electric guitar out of the way. He smells like sea wind and hair gel, and does taste distinctly sugary behind the smile his lips are still curved into.

Tuomi mutters, “I think you’ll do great. Berwald’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. Y’know, the boys are excited as anythin’.” Now, he practically melts, draping his long limbs over Tuomi and his guitar. He always does this when he as much as thinks about his nephews, Berwald’s young sons. Tuomi and Søren are very much the fun uncles. It is a title they both wear with pride.

Patting his jeans-clad ass affectionately, Tuomi pushes his nose into Søren’s wild coppery hair.

“Yeah? They’ve given their blessing, then?”

“Already fightin’ over who gets to be ringbearer.”

“Cute.”

The door of the studio opens.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?” shouts Tuomi’s half-sister, bursting in.

Eduard, now leaning his head in his hands, says, “Please save me.”

“Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Søren shouts, into Tuomi’s ear. He gets along with Erzsébet far too well.

“Tuomi’s ex?” she yells back, and Eduard promptly loses it. He doubles over his keyboard in hiccupping laughter, shaking and pressing almost all the keys in a horrifyingly discordant tone. Søren looks betrayed in a very comical way. He crosses his arms as he turns to Erzsébet, folding his hands into the sleeves of his red knit sweater. Berwald made that one.

“She not wrong,” Tuomi tells him, holding back laughter of his own. Now even more comically betrayed, Søren turns back to him, with his dark eyebrows raised high and ready to deliver a quasi-outraged speech, but Erzsébet forestalls him.

“You need to make a song for the wedding!”

“Yes!” Tuomi perks up, almost poking Søren in the hip with the neck of his guitar.

“A song?” the man echoes, looking between all three of them. Eduard is now only playing a couple of notes at the same time, thankfully, and he straightens up fully to explain their family tradition.

“We always do it for weddings. It has to be something they’d like, and something the couple can dance to.”

“And then we give it funny lyrics,” Tuomi finishes, “about the person getting married. But we always make sure it’s good.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised about that part, ya snobs.” Søren shakes his head affectionately. He has absolutely no feel for music, but that just means that he appreciates things that most other people wouldn’t give their time of day.

It also means that he somehow considers Tuomi’s very musically inclined family to be elitist about music, which Tuomi thinks is dumb, but he’s not one to argue. He’ll leave that to his brother; it’s very amusing. As a matter of fact, Eduard is already narrowing his eyes at Søren, but doesn’t say anything before he continues.

“I don’t know if Berwald would like that, honestly. It’s not really something we do.”

“Come on, everyone likes music!” Erzsébet enthuses, walking further inside and skirting around Søren and Tuomi in the small space to lean an elbow on Eduard’s shoulder.

“Sure, he likes it, but, I mean—we ain’t like you guys, is all.”

No one is quite like his family, Tuomi thinks, but he appreciates that all the more these days. Søren is the most generous, openminded person he knows, and has broadened his worldview amazingly in the time they’ve been together. Not that his family isn’t openminded; they’re just less inclined to explore than Søren is.

Still, “Music is a universal language, isn’t it?” Tuomi asks him, bumping his shoulder into Søren’s upper arm. He inclines his head in agreement. “It doesn’t even have to have lyrics if you think Berwald wouldn’t like it. Or his fiancé, of course,” he adds, because he doesn’t know the man that well but knows he, like Berwald, doesn’t really appreciate being made fun of, even in good humor.

This is, again, unlike Søren, which is probably why it didn’t work out with his brother and does work with him.

Well, it’s part of it.

Erzsébet, the lyricist of the family, gasps dramatically at the mention of not having lyrics to go with the song, and coughs. She should really quit smoking. Eduard pats her back awkwardly, getting a face full of long brown hair for his efforts.

“And then?” Søren’s asking, but his head is still tilted thoughtfully, as if he’s considering it.

“Well, then it can be for a dance! Consider it a wedding gift from me.”

“His ex,” Erzsébet murmurs, recovered, and Eduard starts giggling again.

“His brother-in-law.” Tuomi blindly throws a guitar pick at her over his shoulder, which, going by the plink and following yelp, hits Eduard’s glasses instead.

Huh. That’s pretty impressive.

“Well, someone will have to teach him how to dance first—”

They all look away.

“—but that sounds awesome, actually! Would you guys be willing to play it?” In his excitement, Søren has leaned very close to Tuomi again, vision filling with his grin and his many, many freckles, and Tuomi can’t help but kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’d love to.”

His siblings make agreeing noises.

“Right! Well, should I—what’re you guys workin’ on, actually?” Søren gazes around the small space as if hoping to glean clues. Which clues, Tuomi is not sure. He can’t really read music, after all.

“Just tinkering a bit,” Tuomi says. Eduard plays the first few chords of the most recent wedding song they’d written, several years ago already. Erzsébet slaps the cymbal of her drum set in apparent agreement, reaching behind her.

“Hey, I wrote some lyrics, actually,” she says. “I think they’re pretty good.”

It’s been years since they actually made original music that they deemed good enough to send out into the world, but their songs are still getting decent amounts of listeners on Spotify, which is nice; it’s mostly a hobby for all three of them, after all. Lately, though, Eduard and Tuomi have started seriously considering making some new material, and Erzsébet seems to be on board. She promises to send the lyrics to both of them. Although she, like both of her half-brothers and much to Søren’s amazement, plays several instruments, she doesn’t have much talent for composing.

Tuomi tried to teach Søren guitar once. It was fun, but very unsuccessful. He does like the drums.

That’s probably why he gets along with Erzsébet so well.

Deciding that today is probably not going to be very productive, all four of them go into the house instead, and Tuomi makes coffee while Søren hands out some cupcakes that he made yesterday, because Søren very much believes that food is a universal language. He isn’t wrong, if you ask Tuomi, but that’s mostly because Søren is very good at making food, unlike Tuomi.

They’ve all got their talents, he supposes, and it’s how they use them in combination that matters. Even if he’s been banned from using the oven for anything more than frozen pizza.

Eduard, of course, asks for the recipe, because Eduard didn’t get that memo about talents and has too many of them.

Tuomi’s siblings don’t actually stay around for very long after that, both promising to think about the wedding song for Berwald. It is mostly an empty promise on Erzsébet’s part, but that’s okay. Eduard walks away while muttering about waltzes, which Tuomi appreciates, because Berwald seems like a man—is a man, he knows this—who appreciates a bit of tradition, and he’s never tried to compose an instrumental, mostly classical song before.

“You’re adorable, you know,” he tells Søren, who’s standing behind him in the hallway of their house after having seen his siblings off. Søren just grins, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and looking much younger than he is.

“I’m just happy for my brother.”

“I know.” Tuomi reaches up to flick some errant hair out of the way. “It’s really cute.”

He gets excited about the smallest things, Søren. Random dogs on the street and odd world records and warm coats and almost everything that’s even a little bit nice. It’d get annoying, Tuomi’s sure, if he weren’t so sincere about it all the time. He got very excited about their civil union as well, which was honestly mostly practical. Tuomi had almost wanted to get married, just to see his reaction to it, but he’d decided years before that marriage wasn’t for him, and remains glad that he stuck by that belief, in the end.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Søren suddenly asks, blue eyes searching Tuomi’s face.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Berwald’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” He shrugs. “I know he’s always wanted the whole… Domestic thing.”

“Guy’s had a plan for a wedding since he was twelve or something,” Søren confirms, grinning. “Only took him thirty years and a couple kids.”

Tuomi knows; he was shown the plan, sixteen years ago, but he decides not to mention that. It’d been quite intimidating at the time; he’d only been 22 and much more interested in… Well, practically anything besides marriage.

Søren slings an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his lanky form, and starts walking them both back to the kitchen.

“You’d know, I guess,” he muses, then pulls a face. Tuomi laughs.

“That one was your fault!”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Tuomi stops walking, tilting his head up at Søren.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks. Turning back, Søren blinks at him.

“Obviously not,” he says, but he bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his dark brows, so there’s evidently something more there.

There’s another thing Tuomi had to be taught by Søren; reading body language. It’s not his fault his family is so unexpressive!

“But?” he prompts.

“I just hope I can do well for him.” Søren shrugs. “He’s my big brother, y’know, and I do kinda feel like I ruined his first chance of marriage sometimes. I know that’s dumb,” he adds hastily.

Tuomi mumbles, “Yeah, that was definitely me.” And then, “Like you say, he’s your big brother. He loves you. Speaking as someone with two older siblings, they might razz you a bit—”

“That’s just your siblings, Tuomi,” Søren interrupts, but the grin is back on his face and just as bright as before. “But I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”

Tuomi boots him with his shoulder, and he laughs, clomping ahead. Tuomi follows, quickly.

Before he eats all the other cupcakes.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Pretty Voice

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, all canon-typical. these are just some angsty bois sometimes, huh. other than that, none. this thing’s pretty fluffy. 

Pairings: Logince. Can be platonic or romantic you choose, I don’t know anymore. 

Word Count: 6367

The Imagination has a theatre. Roman holds concerts regularly. The others are invited to perform but Roman is the star. Today, it’s just him and Logan. Logan’s never wanted to perform. He sits a few rows back from the stage so he can see better and so his eardrums don’t get blown out. Also so Roman can’t really see Logan.

In other words: this isn't the first time Logan's made himself hard to see. It isn't the first time he's struggled to be heard either. Maybe it's time Roman did something about that.

The Imagination has a theatre. Roman holds concerts regularly. The others are invited to perform but Roman is the star. Today, it’s just him and Logan. Logan’s never wanted to perform. He sits a few rows back from the stage so he can see better and so his eardrums don’t get blown out. Also so Roman can’t really see Logan.

It’s been about half an hour. Logan’s been clapping after every song, offering honest feedback which just happens to be very complimentary. Roman adores his compliments, they’re so unique and genuine. Logan did confess a few songs ago that he is having trouble keeping up with how incredible the performances have been, always finding something new to compliment all the same. And yet when he finishes quite a spectacular rendition about ‘From Now On,’ Logan’s silent. No clapping either. In fairness, the end of the song does kind of fade out, so…but Roman thinks it’s something else.

“Well, if you didn’t like the song,” he huffs melodramatically, perching his hands on his hips, “you could’ve just said so.”

His joking demeanor fades when Logan startles terribly.

“Huh? Oh, oh, my apologies,” Logan stammers, “I just…I fear I lost focus. It was…an incredible rendition.”

Roman squints a little. It’s really…how has he not noticed that it’s pretty hard to see Logan? Has he really been so involved in the performance?

Well, he has to admit, it’s pretty intoxicating. Especially with the acoustics they’ve got in the theatre.

“…are you sure you don’t want to try,” he asks, gesturing to the stage, “just a little song? Just one?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m perfectly alright.”

“One verse,” he bargains, “a chorus?”

“I couldn’t hope to follow you.”

“Well yes, I am magnificent, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be too.”

Logan smiles and shakes his head again. Roman frowns, coming right to the edge of the stage and crouching down so he’s closer to Logan’s eye-line.

“Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Yes, I am perfectly alright, thank you.”

“And here I thought Deceit was the living lie detector.”

Logan shifts. “Well, it follows that you would have some sense as well. You’re an actor, aren’t you?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“‘Focus on issues or focus on me,’ as I recall, is one of your favorite catchphrases.”

Yes, it is, but Roman would rather focus on the issues right now. “Come here.”

“What?”

He smiles, beckoning with a finger. “Come here.”

Logan does, standing up and walking down the aisle. Roman waits until he’s fairly close to stand up and jump down from the stage.

“And…up we go!”

Laughing as Logan squeaks in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders, Roman picks him up and sets him on the stage. He rests his forearms on either side of Logan’s thighs, keeping a light grip on his hips. Even with the height of the stage and the slight downhill slope of the aisle, Roman’s still a little bit taller than Logan, so he takes a step back until they’re eye level.

“And…perfect,” he says, and leans forward until they’re almost nose to nose, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Hello.”

“…um, hello.” Logan glances around, still trying to work out why he’s no longer on the floor. “Why am I up here?”

So I can cuddle you while I ask you what’s wrong, of course. “Well, I figured shouting across the theatre perhaps wasn’t the best idea.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I believe ‘projecting’ is the correct term.”

“So you have been paying attention.”

“I do have some theatre experience. I am a part of Thomas, after all.”

Roman gasps, mock-offended. “And yet you still won’t sing for me?”

“Believe it or not, my prince, I have no desire to humiliate myself like that.”

Oh, we’re using pet-names, now, are we? Well, lucky for Logan, Roman’s an expert.

“Dearest,” he coos, “you really shouldn’t sell yourself short like that. After all—“ he runs a thumb over Logan’s pink cheek, smiling— “sweetheart, you’re lovely.”

Logan shuts their eyes, making Roman chuckle as they bury their face in their hands. “Did you have to do that?”

“Do what, my sweet?”

“You,” Logan says weakly, and oh, he must be flustered if he’s so far gone from his typical articulation, “with the pet-names.”

“Well, darling, you did start it.” Logan shakes his head, only to blush brighter when Roman winks at him. “And what kind of prince would I be if I didn’t flirt with every dashing fellow I came across?”

“You’d be you,” Logan says, “isn’t that enough?”

Roman’s smile falters and before he can stop himself it slips out.

“…is it?”

Logan frowns, blush receding as he tilts his head. “Of course it is, Roman. You…you are an incredible force. Your work ethic rivals that of anyone else, including my own. Your resilience is something to be admired as well, not to mention how hard you work to keep Thomas as the center of your efforts. And you…your abilities…and how selflessly you share them with us…”

Logan takes a deep breath and smiles. “Of course it’s enough, Roman, you’re enough.”

Roman may have the high ground when it comes to flirting, but he has nothing on Logan’s sincere eloquence. All he can do is bathe in the words, try and soak up every single bit of it Logan gives him.

“…you believe me,” Logan murmurs, “right?”

“You really are too sweet to me,” Roman says finally, “aren’t you, little bear?”

He’s rewarded with an adorably confused head tilt. “‘Little bear?’”

“I like to think of you like a little bear,” Roman says, regaining some of his confidence as Logan starts to blush again. “Because you’re an excellent cuddler, just like a teddy bear. You are unmatched in your ability to comfort the rest of us—though don’t tell Patton I said that—and you are fiercely protective of your cubs.”

“And with this jacket—“ Roman pats the thick, fluffy, light brown jacket just about swallowing Logan’s form he’d been given when Roman noticed him shivering in the chill of the theater— “you’re just like a fuzzy little teddy bear!”

To prove his point, he flips up the hood, miscalculating just how floppy it is and smacking Logan in the face with it, sending them both into a fit of giggles.

“And bears like honey. Honey is sweet. And you,” Roman says, leaning close enough to bump their noses together, “are very, very sweet.”

He chuckles when Logan makes a frustrated noise and pulls the hood further over his flushed little face. They’re so cute.

“Aww,” he teases, tugging at the hood, “don’t hide from me, little bear! Let me see you!”

A brief tug-of-war later—in which Roman totally doesn’t cheat by sneaking his hand down and scribbling his nails over his knee—and he pulls the hood away, revealing an adorably flushed Logan pouting at him.

“There you are,” he says, reaching forward to boop his nose. “If you don’t like it, Logan, I can come up with another one.”

“No,” Logan mumbles, “I…I like it.”

Roman takes pity on the blushing mess on the stage in front of him, helping Logan tug the collar of the jacket a little snugger around his neck. “Little bear it is, then.”

Logan, meanwhile, is having a crisis.

Because Roman couldn’t just invite him to spend some one on one time in the Imagination, no. He had to sing to him in the most incredible voice he’s ever heard and then ask if Logan wanted to sing. He had to ask Logan if he was alright in that soft voice that he knows he likes. And he had to pick Logan up like he weighed nothing and set him on the stage, curving his body around him like he was something to be protected.

And he had to give him a personalized nickname and tease him about how cute he is.

And he had to be really, really attractive.

He’s right here, he’s touching you, and you still want more? He made up a special little nickname for you and you aren’t satisfied? What else do you want?

Don’t burden him with your problems too. He’s got his own stuff to deal with. He’s got more of a right to be upset about these things than you do.

You’re not even supposed to be upset in the first place.

“Little bear?”

Logan shakes his head. “You’re going to use that every chance you get, aren’t you?”

“Well, that and depending on how you feel about pet names—“

Why did you nod, you useless gay?

Roman’s smile just widens. “Then yes. Yes, I am. So, my sweet little bear—“ internal screaming can commence now, thank you— “what’s got you looking like someone stole all your honey?”

“I don’t…I don’t want…if you are not in a good headspace—“

Rolling his eyes fondly, Roman resettles his grip on Logan’s hips. “Gorgeous, if you keep being as sweet as you are, I am going to get a toothache.”

And Logan thinks he can brush it off, toss some meaningless barb back that’ll either get Roman to talk about something else or at least flirt with him to pass the time instead, but then Roman says: “you can talk to me, little bear,” in a voice so gentle it makes his chest ache.

Where do I start? How do I start? What if I say the wrong thing? Do I even remember how to do this?

What if he changes his mind?

This is stupid, just talk. You know how. Just say something. Anything.

“Sorry, I am…not the most articulate right now.”

“If the bountiful praise you lavished upon me earlier is any indication, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you.”

Well, there goes that excuse.

Why is this so hard for you? He’s not a mind-reader, you will actually have to talk to him. Isn’t that what you’ve been preaching, you hypocrite?

Do you even have anything to say?

You’re not just going to make something up for attention, are you?

Or is that what you’re doing now? Stalling for attention?

What’s the point of you having a voice if you’re not going to use it?

Now you’re just wasting his time.

The lightest touch on the side of his head and Logan startles terribly. Roman shushes him, finishing tucking a strand of hair out of the way.

“…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No!”

Roman blinks, taken aback by the shout. Shit. Logan curls his fists in the coat.

“No,” he mumbles again, “I…”

Great job. Say something.

Roman watches Logan war with himself, growing more and more worried as his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth opening and closing with no words coming out. When he hasn’t moved for a few minutes, he racks his brain for a way to help.

“Once upon a time,” he murmurs finally, smiling gently when Logan’s gaze flicks to his, “there was a forest. A small forest, not too big, where all sorts of creatures lived. Cats, snakes, spiders, frogs, owls, dragons, bears…all sorts.”

As he talks, he rubs soothing circles into their hips with his thumbs.

“And they all had secrets, because everybody does, and they all kept their secrets in different places. At the bottom of their ponds, tucked away in their burrows, hidden their nests…”

Roman steps closer, bracing most of his weight on one arm, wrapping it around Logan’s back to hold them close.

“Where does the little bear keep their secrets?”

He takes his free hand and carefully pushes the flaps of the jacket aside, laying it gently on Logan’s stomach.

“What about here, in their belly? Where all the sweet honey goes? Maybe if I poke it a bit—“ Roman gently prods at a few spots, smiling when Logan giggles and squirms— “the secrets will come out. No, no, that’s a giggle. Maybe over here? On their sides? No, those are more giggles. Hmm…well, this may just be a giggle button.”

A little squeeze here, a little scribble there. Roman smiles when Logan’s face starts to glow that lovely pink again, his giggles still flowing out. He’s more than happy to stand here and lightly tickle Logan until he feels better, but when Logan starts gently batting at his chest and shoulders, trying to push him away, he relents.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, “well, I think there are only giggles in here. Let’s just…pat them a bit to calm them back down.”

He rubs his tummy firmly to soothe away any lingering tingles, then raises his hand to lay over Logan’s upper chest.

“What about here, in their chest? Right here…next to their heart. Oh, I can feel it,” he says, pressing his hand a little firmer, feeling the reassuring thud, “it’s a strong heart. Which makes sense, after all, for our little bear. But…”

Roman searches Logan’s face. Not yet.

“…no. No secrets here.”

Moving slowly, slow enough that Logan can stop him if he wants, Roman tucks his hand against his neck, feeling his pulse against his hand.

“What about here,” he says, “in their throat? Right next to these lovely vocal chords they’re so shy about, maybe if they sing a little, their secrets will come tumbling out?”

It makes the tiniest smile come to Logan’s face but he shakes his head. Roman pouts, unable to keep up the façade when it makes the smile grow.

“Alright then. No. No secrets here.”

Roman takes his hand away, stroking down the fluffy sleeve of the jacket, feeling the soft material tickle his palm. He slides it down to the warm wood of the stage, straightening his posture—the only straight thing on him—so he can lean against the stage between Logan’s knees, hands going back to his hips.

“Well,” he says softly, “I don’t know where else to look, little bear.”

Please, Logan, let me help you.

A trembling hand takes his, guiding it up, up, up to press his fingertips carefully to the underside of Logan’s chin.

“…here? Under your tongue? Oh…oh, I can feel them…there’s so many, you’re so tense here…”

He carefully rubs and presses, feeling how tight Logan’s jaw is. Logan swallows heavily and Roman feels his tongue move.

“Does it hurt, little bear?”

Shake.

“No? Are you sure?”

He won’t meet his eyes. Oh, Logan…

“Well, it can’t be comfortable, holding them all like that. Is…is this why your head feels so heavy? Here,” he says, cupping his chin properly, coaxing him to rest his head in his hand, “let me hold it for a little.”

That’s it, he smiles as Logan’s head sinks into his hand. He gives it a soft squeeze.

“Now, why don’t we try and see if we can make this a little easier for you, little bear? In fact, I…I think I can feel one…right here.”

He takes his other hand and mimes plucking something from the air in front of him.

“I think it wants to come out.”

He moves his hand away, slowly pulling the secret away, drawing it up and out. Logan’s mouth opens, yes, come on, you can do it…

“…I’m scared.”

Roman rubs his fingers together and sprinkles the harmful secret away. “And…poof. It’s gone.”

He comes back, resting his hand on Logan’s knee. “Good job, little bear. And it’s okay to be scared, I promise. And I’m right here, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Logan’s worried little brow relaxes and it makes the ache in his chest release, just a little. Then he feels Logan’s chin wobble.

“Oh…oh, here’s another one…feel it?” He plucks another one from the air. “I’ve got it, don’t worry, here we go…”

“…I…”

“…say it,” he coaxes, “go on.”

“…I haven’t…done this…in…so long, I…I’m not…I…don’t…”

Logan swallows. Roman brings his hand a little closer to their face but he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t know if I remember how to do this.”

“That was a stubborn one,” Roman says softly, “wasn’t it?”

Logan nods. Roman turns to address his hand, still clutching the pesky secret.

“You’ve been living there for a long time, haven’t you? Well, I’ll have you know that’s quite rude,” he scolds. “You’ve caused my little bear an awful lot of discomfort. Now begone.”

He swats it away with a disgusted expression, softening when he feels the low rumble of a laugh in his other hand. Looking back, he sees Logan looking…a little better, at least.

“You feel a little lighter, my dear,” he observes. Logan nods. “Good.”

Taking Logan’s chin in both hands, he rubs his fingers along his jaw. “Let me see…feel around a little… any more loose ones?”

Anything else you’d like to tell me? Or talk about?

“…one.”

Roman nods. “Alright. Let me see…”

He waves his hand a bit in the air in front of them, as if he’s searching for something to grab onto. Finally, he picks a spot and forms a pinch.

“Ah. Here. Oh…oh, this one…” He gently tugs on it. “This one feels heavy. Like there’s a lot of it. Oh, you poor thing, shall we try and see if we can get this to stop hurting you?”

This time, Logan doesn’t hesitate and nods.

“Let’s see…it feels quite long…hefty. So, how about this: I will start pulling out the bits that feel a little loose already, and whenever it starts to come, you just say it for me, alright?”

Logan nods.

“Wonderful.”

With that, he begins to pull, miming retrieving a long, magician’s scarf out of Logan’s mouth. When his chin starts to wobble again against his hand, Roman frowns.

“Putting up a fight, are we? Well, this looks like a job for two hands.”

Standing at his full height, he starts doing the motion with two hands. One of the biggest parts of improv, apart from ‘yes and,’ is object work, and he coils the scarf neatly on the floor next to him, making sure he’s still pulling it out of Logan’s mouth, walking his hands along the scarf.

Logan wants to. He really wants to. But the words just won’t come out. So much so that when he opens his mouth his breath literally catches in his throat.

“Oh…oh dear,” Roman says worriedly, tugging a little, “it’s…it’s stuck.”

He mimes trying to pull it away with both hands but gets nowhere.

“It’s…it’s really stuck. I don’t want to hurt you but it’s being very stubborn.”

He frowns, keeping one hand tightly around the secret and using the other to cup Logan’s chin again.

“Maybe I can make it loose back here…maybe if I feel around…find where it’s stuck.”

The searching motions of his fingers under Logan’s chin make him fidget a little. Roman sees, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Maybe I can tickle it loose, hmm? If I tickle very gently,” he murmurs, scribbling his fingers lightly all over the sensitive skin, smiling as it coaxes more giggles out of him, “can I tickle it loose? No, no, that’s just getting me giggles. You really do have a lot of giggle buttons, little bear. Oh, oh no, it’s going back in, well, that’s not going to work.”

He stops, cupping Logan’s chin firmly, letting him calm back down. Poor thing doesn’t even have the strength to look embarrassed or flustered, no, he just looks frustratingly hopeless. If he wasn’t holding his chin, Roman’s sure Logan’s head would drop right to his chest and he’d never want to raise it again.

“…oh, little bear, is it hurting you?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a bit…hmm…darling, will you listen to me for a moment?”

Logan nods.

“Close your eyes. I have this pesky thing, it won’t be going anywhere.”

The sheer amount of trust it must take for Logan to close his eyes, resting almost the entire weight of his head in Roman’s hand, makes Roman a little light-headed. But he has a job to do here, so he comes forward until his nose is just about brushing Logan’s forehead.

“You are not making me do this,” he whispers, “I’m here because I want to be here. I will keep your secrets safe, I promise.”

He lowers his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Logan. Not with me.”

Logan opens his eyes. It pinches in the little pouch where his chin meets his neck.

“…for as long as I can remember…”

Roman pulls the scarf out once and grabs it again.

“…I…”

His hand moves an inch.

“…have…”

Another inch.

“Are you seriously going to do that word by word?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Deep breath.

“…for as long as I can remember, I have never been a part of any kind of relationship where it does not hinge on how useful I am.”

Logan closes his eyes, feeling Roman’s hand leave his chin.

“I…I am a function that is indispensable but not one that is wanted.”

Swallows. Keeps going. The pinch doesn’t let up.

“My entire being is based on how much I know. What I can do. And…and if I cannot do the thing I am meant to do, I…I cannot exist. But there are so many things I cannot do in order to do the things I need to do.”

The pinch still doesn’t let up.

“And I…I let it happen.”

Has silence always been this deafening?

“Because I have no choice.”

The pinch spreads, turns to a clench.

“…I am useful. I can explain things to you when you need them explained. I can help you sort through things that you do not fully understand. I can provide solutions to problems when they arise.”

He tugs the jacket tighter around himself, trying to huddle in a cocoon of safety.

“I…I am Logic. I am Logic. That is my job.”

The words curl on his tongue and taste bitter. He briefly wonders if this is what Janus feels like.

“But it is not only my job when it is convenient,” he spits, “it is always my job. And I…I have to be able to do my job. B-because if I don’t, you’ll—“

He swallows heavily.

“…I understand that…there are many things that you and the others do that I do not understand. And I understand that I am…convenient. And when I am not, I—you—“

He huffs. “I understand that I do not understand.”

It’s hot. It’s too hot. The jacket is sweltering, trapping him now. But he can’t let go, can’t move. Can only speak.

“And I cannot understand. Because that would require me to have emotion. And I cannot have emotion. I am Logic. Logic cannot have emotion because logic falls apart when emotions come into play. But I can’t just be Logic!”

It comes out in a horrible burst of agony, ripping up his throat as it comes out.

It h-hurts.

It hurts.

“…you do not require me or Logic.”

He curls into the jacket, not caring about how much it hurts.

“I…I know that logic must always have a place. I know that sometimes you would rather not listen to Logic. But s-sometimes…”

The others don’t always want Logic. They don’t always want Logan either.

“I cannot be human,” he whispers, “I cannot be held to the same standard as a human.”

I am a being of Logic. I am the Logical Side.

“…I cannot have the same luxuries as a human.”

Emotion is a luxury I cannot always afford.

“…I have tried. For you and for Thomas, to…be Logic.”

They didn’t see. They never saw.

“And it has worked. It has worked so well that I—I—”

The line between Logan and Logic blurs so much that it is near impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. But now…

Now when Logic has been silenced, not even Logan can speak.

“…I am Logic.”

Who is Logan?

“I…I know I have feelings, but I…I can’t. I’m not—Logic is not equipped to deal with them. I know I have to be Logic, but I…I can’t.”

Logan was being an inconvenience. Because he was taking more time than I should be. Because everyone else was ready to move on…and Logan wasn’t. Logic was.

“…and I will stay. Because you need Logic.”

Logic would stop talking during a conversation because no one wanted to hear Logic. Logic didn’t care about my emotions, only how I could help them deal with theirs.

“Because you have always needed L-Logic.”

Logic. Logic. Logic.

There is no room for Logan.

I am so scared, so scared of not being useful that I let other people introduce me. Because you would know how I could be the most useful.

I must be useful.

I must be Logic.

There is no room for Logan.

They do not want to listen to Logic. They silence Logic.

They do not even know Logan exists.

“If…if I was smart…you kept me. If I was hardworking, you kept me. If I was useful, you kept me.”

And when I wasn’t enough, they replaced me.

I can’t be Logan. Not here.

…can I be Logic?

Will that be enough?

“…if I’m Logic, will you keep me?”

Silence.

His hands are balled so tightly in his jacket they ache.

He can’t remember the last time he’s talked so much.

He can’t remember the last time Roman was so silent.

What…what has he done?

“I’m—I’m sorry—“

“Don’t you dare, Logan.”

Logan’s head snaps up in horror. Roman stares at him, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. A blazing fury burns in his gaze and Logan shrinks, trying to make himself smaller.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he repeats in a low voice.

Is…are those…tear stains?

Roman tried. He tried to just pull the secret out, lend a sympathetic ear, return the favor Logan had given him so many times. But he couldn’t. Tears had welled up by the time he’d mentioned the others only keep him around because he’s convenient. He can’t…he can’t imagine…having to stifle something so integral to himself like emotions, being kept around only because he was useful, being tokenized and objectified over and over and over and reminded that he wasn’t enough on his own…

And not being able to sing? To do all the things that Roman can do, is permitted to do as Creativity?

“Oh, oh, sweetheart,” he manages to gasp, “come here—“

He’s sobbing. He’s sobbing, the tears bubbling up as he reaches desperately for Logan, for his face that…that isn’t crying at all, how can he go through this much and not cry, do…can he not cry anymore?

That only makes him cry harder.

“You’re—you’re wanted, Logan, so—so much, I want you, I need you to—to stay, yes, we’ll—we’ll keep you, oh, darling—“

He understands. He understands so much and it hurts because there are so many secrets nested inside that big secret and it’s so much and he’s so proud of Logan, for surviving, for telling him—

He needs Logan closer. He tugs him off the stage, into his arms, holding him up, holding him close, scooping him into a tight hug.

And oh, it’s exactly the way a heroic knight should hug. Strong. Powerful. Protective. It’s safe as Logan clings to him. He feels safe. Cared for.

Loved?

It’s only when Roman goes to cup Logan’s head that he realizes he’s not really holding that much of Logan’s weight in his arms. Instead, he realizes Logan’s clinging to him just as tightly, their bodies curving into each other as Logan holds himself up by his legs wrapped over his hips.

“…well,” he murmurs, “aren’t you strong?”

“I can hold my own.”

“I know you can, Logan,” he says, pulling back a little so he can see Logan’s face, “but it’s okay if you don’t always want to.”

Logan looks at him, one of the few times where this means he has to look down, a soft smile on his face. “It’s fine for you too.”

Roman can’t help but shake his head in disbelief as he sets Logan—gently!—back on the stage. “How are you already back to taking care of me?”

Logan shrugs. “Instinct? Habit?”

Useful. Right.

They all need to work on that, to work on this, for Logan. Not for Logic, not for Thomas, for Logan.

“In all seriousness,” Logan mumbles, “thank you.”

“No,” Roman corrects, his arms still tightly around Logan, “thank you.”

And when Logan looks up he’s so hopeful that Roman has to lean forward and rub their noses together.

“Is…is this how it f-feels?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Yes, Logan,” Roman breathes, trying to push the feelings across that little gap between them, “this is how it feels.”

“…I…I—“

“You don’t have to say anything, dear heart,” Roman soothes, “truly.”

Logan’s eyes drift closed and Roman frowns, worried when he takes another deep breath and squeezes his eyes tighter.

“…is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Make what up?”

“Pay you back then.”

“For what?”

“Roman…”

He relents. Of course he relents. Even if the question made him want to wrap Logan up in a warm blanket and tell him he’ll be safe forever, or leave them with the others and grab his brother and go teach whatever nasty beastly voices in Logan’s head caused this a lesson, he relents. He understands how hard this must’ve been for Logan.

“…yes, there is something you can do for me.”

Logan looks up and the plea in his expression is almost enough to break Roman’s heart all over again.

“When you say you don’t understand,” Roman says softly, still tracing idle patterns over Logan’s back, “some of the things we do, can you give me an example?”

“P-Patton bakes,” Logan manages, “I…I have seen Remus draw. Virgil listens to music or he…he runs. Janus dances.”

He gestures around the theater. “You sing.”

Roman smiles gently. “Will you sing something for me?”

Logan’s breath catches and he tenses, despite Roman’s efforts to soothe him. “…it’s not going to be any good.”

“Who said anything about being good?”

He reaches up to cup Logan’s face in his hands.

“I don’t care if you’re too loud. I don’t care if you’re too quiet. I don’t care if it’s too high. I don’t care what key you’re in,” he says firmly.

Oh, he wants to go and make sure whatever put that unsure look on his face never happened.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs instead, “it’s just you and me. I want to hear you, little bear. And to prove to yourself that you can.”

A few moments later and Logan breaks out into the smallest of smiles.

“…so what am I singing?”

“Oh, no, that’s not how this works,” Roman says with a smile, “you choose the song, dearest.”

“I…”

“I don’t care what it is. It doesn’t have to be some big, meaningful choice. I’m not here for Logic, I’m here for Logan.”

He knows how hard it can be to be alone on stage, so he steps back to boost himself up to sit next to them.

“…would it help if I sing with you?”

“No.”

Roman looks down at the floor. Even though his feet can just about touch, it…it looks miles away. And he should know how hard it is to pick a song to sing, especially when he hasn’t sung in a while. There’s just so many to choose from, and if you’re scared about what you’re going to be able to sing, then…

Perhaps this was too much to ask.

For a moment, he thinks his phone’s going off, or someone’s computer outside the Imagination, playing an a cappella version of ‘Bright Lights and Cityscapes.’

Then…then he looks.

Logan’s voice, not quite polished, a little worn, makes him cry all over again. It’s just this side of warm, full of longing and heartbreak and barely restrained sorrow and so, so good.

He finishes the song and Roman immediately wants to clamor for another one.

“…you have been holding out on me, darling.”

“You…you like my voice?”

“Oh, dearest, I could write ballads about it.”

“You do not have to.”

“But there are so many songs you could sing so well, and I will never understand how we could silence you, how we could make you believe we don’t want to hear you…”

Logan blushes a pretty pink, but he’s smiling. He’s smiling. And Roman just has to shuffle a little closer to tilt his chin up to see it properly. It’s lovely.

He cups Logan’s chin, feeling the spot under his tongue.

“…still a few more in there, hmm?”

Logan nods, his fingers twitching and growing restless. He looks down to see Logan stimming with the gold trim on his clothes, running his fingers over the coarse twine. Roman smiles, shifting a little to let him work his way along the lines, up the seams, to the ones on his chest. The blush stays on Logan’s cheeks, obviously a little nervous about touching him this way, but…stimming is stimming. Roman understands.

“Do you like it?”

Logan nods.

“I like the sash too,” he says quietly, gently smoothing it right next to Logan’s hand, encouraging him to do the same, “smooth, right?”

“I seem to recall a song lyric about being buried in satin?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to sing it for me.”

“…I believe the song is called ‘If I Die Young.’”

“You’ll have to sing it.”

“Do you know it?”

“Yes.” When Logan looks up at him, he understands. “Do you?”

“Not all of it.”

“Most of it?”

“…most of it.”

“May I sing it with you?”

“If you like.”

He ruffles Logan’s hair gently. “You start then.”

His hand slows where it’s toying with his sash. Then…

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

“Oh, oh…oh, oh…” Logan looks up at him. He smiles and sings the verse.

“Lord, make me a rainbow,

I’ll shine down on my mother.

She’ll know I’m safe with you

when she stands under my colors, oh.

Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no.

Ain’t even gray but she buries her baby.”

He raises his eyebrows, dipping to sing the harmony for: “The sharp knife,

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

The next chorus is smoother, Roman’s smile growing as Logan’s voice starts to ring. His harmony grows warmer.

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

The sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

Logan may have been lying about not knowing all of the song, because here Roman is, happily singing the harmony.

“And I’ll be wearing white—“ Roman raises his eyebrows, making them laugh—

“when I come into your kingdom,

I’m as green as the ring

on my little cold finger, I’ve

never known the loving of a man

but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand—“

Roman covers Logan’s hand, holding it firmly to his chest, thrilling at the way it makes Logan’s voice stutter just a little on the next line.

“—there’s a boy here in town, says he’ll

love me forever.

Who would’ve thought forever would be severed by

the sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

And damn can Logan hit that high note. He whistles in approval, grinning wider when Logan just…keeps it going.

“So put on your best boys,

and I’ll wear my pearls…

what I never did is done…”

The smile fades when Logan’s face drops, looking back at Roman’s chest. The hand under Roman’s begins to tremble as he keeps singing.

“A penny for my thoughts, oh no,

I’ll sell ‘em for a dollar.

They’re worth so much more

after I’m a goner,

and maybe then you’ll hear the words I’ve been singing.

Funny when you’re dead, how people start listening…”

No. Not Logan. Not on his watch. Not on any of their watches.

Roman shifts even closer, letting Logan lean his full weight on him, clutching his hand tenderly to his chest. For a moment, he thinks they’re going to just let the song end there, he wouldn’t blame him, Logan’s already made him so proud, then…

Then Logan takes a deep breath and raises his chin. A single tear stands out on his face. And it’s beautiful.

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

“Oh, oh…the ballad of a dove,

filled with peace and love.

Gather up your tears,” Roman sings as he wipes it away,

“keep them in your pocket,

save ‘em for a time

when you’re really gonna need ‘em, oh.

The sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

He’s so proud of them. He’s so proud.

“So put on your best, boys,” Logan sings, holding Roman’s gaze, “and I’ll wear my pearls…”

The last note fades out. They’re breathless, even despite the relatively easy nature of the song. Roman clutches Logan’s hand tightly to his chest, Logan leans against Roman.

Roman reaches out and gently trails a finger in an arc around Logan’s neck, creating a string of pearls that lay just over his collarbones.

[darkhymns-fic]

Rescue Mission in a Shadowy Wood

Lloyd and Colette leave for Gaoracchia Forest together to rescue a lost dog, but the creepy place seems to be even creepier when it's just themselves...

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Colloyd Week, Day 2: Sidequest! This isn't referencing any specific sidequest in-game, but just making one myself because I've actually had this silly idea in my head for a while. Fair warning that a certain point of this fic might have a claustrophobia trigger? It's mainly emphasizing an action that happens in battle actually and is mostly brief, but just to be safe. (I'm sorry, Lloyd) :'D

--

It all started with a lost doggy.

“Tiggy!” Colette called out, walking in-between the thick roots that snaked across the forest floor, completely unmindful to the chill that whistled through the boughs overhead. “Where are you?” Her shout reverberated against the trees, echoed back at her like a wandering ghost in search of something precious.

Such a sound would usually send a shiver down one’s spine, but Colette happened to enjoy the acoustics, calling out another “Hellooo Tiggyyyy!” When she heard her own voice come back to her, warbly and almost breathless, she giggled against her hand. “It sounds so silly! Don’t you think so, Lloyd? …Lloyd?”

The usual red she was used to seeing was nowhere near her, and so she had to look farther down the path that led out to Mizuho. Only a little bit away, but right there, in the middle of the path, Lloyd was standing, rubbing an arm as he gazed up at the curled trees that lined the road.

“…Huh? Uh, y-yeah, yeah! Definitely…um…”

Though just a few steps back, he was looking wistfully from the path they came through. The sunlight was just out of reach, gliding along the ground before being abruptly stopped by the shadows of Gaoracchia Forest’s trees.

From where he stood, he looked towards Colette as if he were a lost doggy himself, making her heart flutter in her chest.

“Oh! Are you scared, Lloyd?”

“No way!” Lloyd answered instantly – with maybe a little squeak to this voice. “I mean… nah. I go through these kinds of woods all the time!” He then flinched when he heard a particularly weird-sounding bird call from above them, complemented by the rustling of leaves. “Just…not usually at night…”

“It’s okay to be scared!” Colette walked back to him, taking a hand of his gently. “You’re still thinking about Zelos’ stories?”

A grumble as he instinctively tightened his fingers around hers. “…Maybe…”

It was natural for their group to go off on strange little tangents on their journey all the time, and Tethe’alla provided a whole new place for them to explore. From the sprawling roadways of Meltokio, to the steep cliffs that had made up Mt. Fooji, and now here, in a forest that could have been like Iselia’s woods if the trees didn’t continually block out the sun, or that the pathways didn’t keep being blocked by vines that refused to budge.

“It was really creepy, wasn’t it?” Colette said, gently tugging Lloyd along as they walked deeper into a place that few people dared to tread through. “But also very sad too. All those poor ghosts…”

“Geez, Colette, if you thought it was scary, you sure don’t act like it!” Lloyd’s foot stumbled against one such root – which he was sure hadn’t been right there before! – and had to rely on Colette’s grip to keep himself balanced. “You just clapped when he finished telling!”

“Hm, but he told it very well! Don’t you think?”

Going by how both he and Genis had run away in fear after hearing it, he sighed. “Guess so…”

“But I’m happy you wanted to come here with me, Lloyd. It’d be hard to search through this forest for Tiggy by myself.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you go alone.” And also, Colette had already been rushing for the forest once she heard about the Mizuho shopkeeper’s little dog that had wandered in here, so Lloyd didn’t exactly have much time to wait behind. “But we probably should have told the others we’d be gone, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Colette voiced, and in her tone was complete sincerity. Still, she directed her gaze forward, through the darkness. “But I don’t want to leave a poor doggy out here all alone.”

“I know.” For a moment, Lloyd’s fear of the forest was forgotten. He held back Colette’s hand tightly, giving her a wide grin and a thumbs up once he caught her attention. “Well, four eyes are better than two! So don’t worry. We’ll definitely find Tiggy no matter what!” Lloyd felt proud then, and brave! He stood up tall, keeping Colette’s hands in his. “That’s just math!”

Her smile back was full of hope at the idea. “Thank you, Lloyd. I’m sorry to always be so much trouble.”

“You’re not! Besides, we’ve gone through this forest so we can do it again-”

Lloyd expected a lot of things, especially in this forest. He expected another creepy noise just at his ear, like a whisper which he swore he had heard a few times now, or the cold wind suddenly blowing and biting at his neck, or even maybe just some scary-looking rabbit to jump out at him – which would at least be familiar to him and something he could fight against.

He didn’t expect the horrific, high-pitched screaming that seemed to echo all around them, from every tree on the path, until it felt like they were surrounded by the sound completely.

Lloyd immediately jumped, tripped over another root, then brought Colette in a protective, but very much shaking hug, looking all around them. “W-w-what was that?!”

Colette blinked, her hair just brushing underneath Lloyd’s chin. She could feel the rapid beating of his heart through his jacket, the warmth of his arms around her back. She almost didn’t want to answer to break this nice moment…

“Hm, was it Tiggy?” At that, she got excited. “Maybe he heard us!”

“That…was not Tiggy! No way was that Tiggy! It sounded like… like a person!” Lloyd slowly panned his head around them, at the trees overhead that seemed to somehow shift in closer, their boughs reaching out like broken arms. “The thief from the story…?” Lloyd shook his head. “No way. That story was fake! …Wasn’t it…?”

“Hm, if it’s not Tiggy, then maybe whoever screamed is with him.” Colette reluctantly pressed her hands against Lloyd’s chest. She didn’t really want to leave this place of warmth in Lloyd’s arms, the safe way he made her feel just then, but when a doggy was in trouble… she couldn’t sit back! “They’re probably both lost. We need to hurry and find them!”

Even though Lloyd’s face looked very pale, and that he couldn’t seem to stop shivering (maybe he was also cold?), he nodded, then took a deep breath. “You’re right… Okay! Let’s go! I even got the Sorcerer’s Ring to help out if any weird plants get in the way!” Such a ring was over his finger, having changed it to give light instead of fire. “It’s a good thing I never gave this back, huh.”

She was always so happy to have Lloyd’s full support. With more confidence than before, Colette headed once again down the path, deeper into the forest. “It sounded like it came from this way!”

“Yeah! Right.. right behind you!”

The blood-curdling scream hadn’t happened again (to Lloyd’s immense relief) but the forest sounds grew louder the more they went in. The creaking of the branches in the wind, the snap of the leaves as they stepped over them on the path, and loud calls from birds that Lloyd couldn’t exactly place… The problem was, it was easy to get lost inside, and soon enough, both found themselves passing by the same fallen tree log to their right for the fifth time in a row.

“I could try to fly up and look around?” Colette suggested, knowing their predicament was not exactly in the best light. “The branches are a little thick but maybe…”

“Wait, don’t leave!” Lloyd instantly squeaked before clearing his throat and smiling like nothing was wrong at all. “I- I mean, with the way this forest is, it’s probably harder to see from up there. Also, we should stick together!” If Lloyd at least had his Rheaird, he could have flown up with her, but he had left it in the wingpack with the others…

“Ah, you’re right! Then maybe we can-” At that, Colette stopped, tilted her head, then turned to her left, looking down past a thick underbrush that deviated off the road.

“Colette? What’s wrong?” Lloyd asked, hands on the hilts of his swords, momentarily forgetting he was scared out of his mind.

“I hear a doggy whine...” She turned to Lloyd with wide eyes, fists clenched near her chest. “I hear Tiggy! He’s frightened, Lloyd!”

Before he could even get a word out, Colette had rushed off, straight into the darkness and in-between two closely-knitted trees.

“Wait! Colette!” He dashed after her in the same direction, trying his very best to ignore Zelos’ stories so that he could stop shaking and run faster! But catching up to Colette proved to be a bit more difficult than he anticipated…

The thing was, when it came to doggies, no matter how big or small, whether nameless or not, Colette could hardly focus on anything else. He watched as she expertly dodged any forest debris on the ground, her clumsiness suddenly vanishing. “Tiggy!” she called out, using her hands to throw out her voice more. “Tiggy! Please come home!”

“T-Tiggy!” Lloyd called out too, a little tired with how much he had to run just to be on Colette’s same pace. Shadows kept dancing at the corner of his eyes, and never was he able to catch their shape as he turned his head. But, surely it was nothing? They’ve already fought weird monsters in this place before… He had no reason to be scared!

And then, at a certain point, Colette no longer wanted to just run. It must have been by instinct, for she summoned her wings with barely a flinch, using them to flutter behind her and float over the dips in the forest floor, over any roots that were too high up.

Colette kept flying faster and faster, until Lloyd nearly lost his breath. Which was odd because he was quite used to running around! But Colette moved so fast! Her dedication to dogs was truly admirable “Hold on! I can’t…fly…”

“Ah, sorry!” Even in her pursuit, she slowed down just a bit, looking back to Lloyd. “But, I think I’m getting closer to him now!”

“Would a dog really run this far out?” he asked, unsure of the answer to his question. Even Noishe wouldn’t wander this far in… But then again, Noishe wouldn’t get close to such a forest in the first place.

“Ah, I see him!” And it was times like these that Lloyd wondered if Colette also had angelic sight along with her hearing! “Tiggy!”

All he could last see was the flutter of her pink wings, quickly swallowed up by the dark as she turned a corner. At the last second, creeping vines and brush covered up the way she had just vanished through.

“No! Colette!” Lloyd’s first instinct was to whack at the vines with his swords, yet the steel bounced off the brush as if it were made of stone. It only took him a moment to remember what he should do instead. With shaking hands and trying to hold one of his swords underneath his arm, Lloyd activated his Sorcerer’s Ring to point the sunlight at the thick leaves. “Come on, hurry up!”

Of course, it didn’t exactly work right away. (It never did!!) First, he held the ring at the wrong angle somehow, and then the ring just wouldn’t turn on, and then the ring had run out of the necessary sunlight, so Lloyd had to go back a-ways to a meager spot where the sunlight beamed through and absorb it through the ring like he was a flower reaching for the sun.

“This thing is so stupid!” he grumbled, then marched back to the vines that were in his way. This time, he directed the ring at the exact right spot, and the leaves retreated into the shadows, giving him room to move through. “That took forever…”

But he had no time to keep complaining! Running as fast as he could, swords unsheathed, he stumbled right into the dark, seeing only the outlines of overhanging trees, the breaks of blue sky overhead… and then pink light.

“Lloyd! Hi!” she waved at him cheerfully from a distance. “Look, I found Tiggy!”

And there she was, with the missing dog cradled in her arms. Paws were hanging upward as she held him facing up, a tongue lolling out of his mouth with happy panting. The two-colored fur coat, of white and gentle brown, let Lloyd know that this was the right dog!

That, and they were both surrounded by a group of monsters that looked quite ready to charge at them.

Even from their distance in the darkness, Lloyd could still see her smile apologetically. “It’s a bit hard to fight them while carrying Tiggy though…”

Lloyd only had a quick second to see what monsters they were dealing with; a couple of those weird looking pumpkin trees, a ghost that looked a bit lonely ( and he was sure it wasn’t the thief’s ghost from Zelos’ story so he could deal with it!) one of the horned animal-skull spellcasters that always spoke so loud, and what Professor Sage had termed a Coffin Master, and with the way they hunched over in their dark shroud where only pinpricks of red light could be seen, they looked as if they would be squashed by the quite literal coffin they were lugging around.

This one was closer to Colette, and was slowly lumbering towards her.

“Watch out!” With a well-timed Demon Fang, he got the Coffin Master to stagger, getting its attention. Lloyd felt his fear leave him. Sure, these things were still really creepy, but if he could fight them, then it wasn’t an issue!

Colette took the opportunity to fly just to the side, closer to Lloyd, then depositing Tiggy back on the ground behind them. “Now just stay right there!” she told it happily as she got out her chakrams. Already the monsters were surrounding them. They’d have to fight their way through to escape!

“I got your back, okay, Colette?” Lloyd said, moving close to her as he held out his swords. “Let’s get rid of these guys and get Tiggy out of here!”

“Okay!” Colette smiled as she was already throwing out a chakram at the spellcaster’s head before he could finish his chant. Lloyd rushed straight at the pumpkin trees that were waddling towards them. It would be harder without the others, but they had this now!

“I wish we didn’t have to hurt them still,” Colette softly spoke, all as she threw a Pow Hammer right at the ghost and making it dizzy from the contact. “Those pumpkins are really cute.”

“Colette, I don’t get how you find these cute! They keep making those weird faces at us!” And Lloyd had carved plenty of pumpkins for the holidays back at Iselia… and even he had never been able to make as scary of faces in his pumpkins as these ones did. He parried one that lobbed one of the massive gourds at him.

“It’s the way they walked! Didn’t you notice?” A flash of Angel Feathers, and the lonely ghost vanished from the angelic magic to be lonely no more.

“It’s kinda hard to…” Another thrust, and finally the last pumpkin tree fell over. But that was when he noticed the lumbering Coffin Master again, heading once more towards Tiggy who had wandered to the left just a bit, sniffing at an errant clump of grass.

“Tiggy, no!” Lloyd rushed over to stand in-between both monster and unaware dog, preparing a strong attack to keep it protected!

He only noticed too late how the Coffin Master turned around – but not to run off.

“Hunting Bea-!” Lloyd’s voice was quickly cut off once a weird tail-like appendage burst out from the coffin that had opened so suddenly, wrapping around his torso. “Ack!”

“Lloyd?” Colette could barely have time to turn, busy trying to ward off the last spellcaster who kept trying to pull off at least one successful magic arte.

Lloyd couldn’t even shout, the air already leaving his body once the tail lifted him off the ground, then dragged him closer and closer to a dark void that was…“Wait wait wait Colette help let me go LET ME GO-”

“Huh?”

“COLETTE!” Lloyd’s voice vanished once he was pulled into the coffin, the lid locking tight with a loud click!

Finally able to defeat the spellcaster who fell to the ground with a loud, “NooOOooo..!” Colette turned around, only to find Lloyd was gone, a few remaining pumpkin trees, and maybe a zombie, in his place. “Lloyd? Where are you? Are you okay?” Maybe he had gotten so scared that he ran away…

That is, until she heard the muffled screaming. It sounded familiar! And it wasn’t too far away!

She turned her head to see the coffin on one monster’s back shake. “Are you in there?”

Another scream, followed by desperate knocking against the lid so much that it shook from its hinges.

“Oh good! I thought you’d gotten lost too!” That was a big relief to her. With a nod, she readied herself for one last thing she’d been preparing for. “Don’t worry! I’ll get you out!”

The coffin kept shaking and screaming. Maybe he couldn’t hear her…

Meanwhile, the dog was still sniffing around and scratching at an occasional itch, but luckily the monsters were no longer paying attention to it. Colette quickly whispered the ritual prayer that she had repeated many times before, her wings lifting her and lighting up the dark forest, all as the remaining monsters headed for her. “Cast thy purifying light upon these corrupt souls… Judgment!”

A dazzling brilliance of magic illuminated the area, making the shadow-soaked plants curl up, and making the dog’s eyes blink a little in surprise. Beams of light rained from above to strike at the mob of monsters, including the one with the coffin on his back.

Once all fell, the coffin fell too – and with the force of its impact to the ground, busted the lid open.

“-OUT LET ME OUT!” Lloyd fell to the grass in mid-shout, panting heavily, still clutching his swords with shaking hands. He looked like he was trying to get something off of him until he realized he was free and no longer confined. His face was entirely pale as he looked around in barely concealed shock. “Wh-wha…I … man…” He dropped his swords, blinked once more, then dropped backwards in a heap.

“Lloyd!” Colette rushed up to him, and so did Tiggy, who caught up to him first and was now curiously sniffing his cheek. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Not… not physically…” Lloyd heaved out, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m… probably gonna have nightmares for weeks and… not want to be in small spaces for a while… but…that’s okay…”

Colette looked at him with guilt, reaching for one of his hands and clutching it tight. “I’m sorry. I made you come with me…”

“Colette… don’t think that.” He looked to her and to Tiggy who was now pawing at his shoulder like he was holding a secret treat from him. “We found Tiggy. That’s what’s important. I’ll.. be okay!” With his free hand, he held up a shaking thumbs up. “See? No….no problem…”

Still, she worried. His face was as white as Genis’ hair, so much so that she felt compelled to brush her hand against his cheek. At least he still felt warm. “Lloyd, you were so brave for protecting Tiggy.” The mentioned dog was now sniffing her hand along with his face, the feel of his wet nose making her giggle. “I think he knows it too.”

Lloyd’s grin was a little shaky, but it was real. “We can’t let any dog get hurt, can we?” She felt his face press into her hand, though maybe that was just because he was tired. “That’s what I learned from you… and what I admire about you so much, Colette.”

The words sent a flutter through her chest. Even in this dark forest where creepy denizens of the world lived in, she had never felt as warm and as bright as right now. If only she could keep staying in this moment, with both Lloyd and doggy by her side…

A strange cawing echoed above them, and she felt Lloyd flinch. “Er, think we can leave this place actually?” He sat up, though kept close to her as much as he could.

“Oh, of course!” And as she helped him up, making sure to carry Tiggy in her arms so he wouldn’t get lost again, both made their way out of the area and stepped around fallen monsters. “Sheena gave me directions around here earlier, so we shouldn’t get lost!”

“That’s good…” Lloyd still breathed a little heavily, but he held her hand, slightly leaning against her as they walked. “Also, I… think I know where that scream from earlier came from,” he said with a shudder. “We should probably walk a little faster..”

“Yep!” And though Lloyd didn’t expand much further about the scream (maybe when they were with their friends again, she could gently ask him about it) they made their way through the darkness until the break in the forest trees showed them open skies and fresh air.

She was happy that Lloyd would follow her, even into the darkest woods imaginable - but next time, she’d make sure they’d go somewhere with a little more sunlight.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

“Secret Stairwell” -- (a Kataang love-at-first-sight/hurt-comfort/fluffy college apartment AU fanfic)

I don’t have time to flesh out/edit this as much as I want to, but I REALLY want to share at least a truncated version of it (1800 words lmao) to any who would care to read it. I adore this AU, and the sweeties in it made me smile really, really big☺️

Aang is the new guy in Katara’s complex. He lives in the apartment on the floor right above hers, and they attend the same college.

Katara comes to know him as the crazy parkour kid with too much energy and a too big smile who makes even rainy days feel warm when she sees him out her window with his MASSIVE dog (she still wonders how he got him into the complex).

Aang runs at least twice a day with Appa. He’s ALWAYS smiling, and he never misses a run. His routine becomes part of Katara’s, and she sees him out her window every day. She starts to look forward to his smile.

Katara knows something is wrong when, after a few months of him running literally through any weather, Aang misses a run.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to play it off as non-creepy, but she has to double check to see if he’s okay. What if there was an accident in his apartment? His bike is still locked up in the lot. He’s in the complex.

The stairwell right across from her door is for maintenance only, and Katara thought she was the only one who knew the alarm wouldn’t actually go off if you used it. She steps in, closes the door, and hears Aang crying in the secret stairwell on the landing right above her.

She’s relieved that he’s not dead or anything, but he sounds absolutely heartbroken. She had never heard a cry so sad, just like she had never seen a smile so genuine until she first saw him. She doesn’t know what to do, but she doesn’t want to leave him, either. She sits against the door and hugs her knees on the landing below him like somehow her presence would help him, even if he didn’t know she was there. She didn't know what to say if she said anything. She didn't even know his name.

The next day she sees him running like always, but his smile doesn’t make her happy. It’s concerning. It isn’t warm. It’s bigger than normal. It’s so clearly forced to her, and she doesn’t understand why the stranger he’s talking to doesn’t notice it. The stranger just laughes some more before walking away from Aang. Aang waves to the stranger’s back (didn’t his parents teach him not to talk to every new person he saw?), and his smile wavers before he restarts his run with a sprint like he was running from something.

Katara is extremely guilty for not helping him before. It REALLY gets to her, and she doesn’t know what to do. And, combined with the stresses of her classes and her lack of sleep, she’s on the brink of tears as she waits on the bench for the bus so she could go get groceries. She sticks her hands in her hoodie, slumps on the bench so much that she almost slides off, and sinks her face into the bunched up fabric as she fights the urge to cry.

Appa is a certified therapy dog. He senses Katara’s bad vibes while Aang is running with him. Appa goes up to her, dragging Aang like he was nothing because Appa literally cannot be stopped

Appa gives Katara licks while Aang—EXTREMELY flustered and as red as can be and tripping over his words and finding it hard to look away from her—awkwardly laughs and tries to tug Appa away to retreat. But Appa is a rock and just plops his bum on the ground and his head on Katara’s lap. Aang pulls so hard that he falls flat, and he’s even more flustered than before. He’s talking as fast as he runs and he’s making no sense at all. Katara smiles and laughs without knowing why, and Aang sheepishly smiles at her. Katara pets Appa’s giant head, and Appa’s equally giant tail wags and repeatedly smacks Aang in the face since he’s still on the ground.

Aang blurts an introduction like he had rehearsed it, and he immediately covers his mouth like he had accidentally let it out.

Katara never practiced this part because she didn’t know she would ever get this far. She stumbles over an introduction, and they laugh away the awkward.

Katara sees that his smile is suddenly even warmer than normal, and it makes her feel like jelly because he was looking at her this time instead of her looking at him through the window.

The bus comes and takes Katara away. Katara replays their conversation so many times in her head—trying to commit it to memory—that she doesn’t notice that she missed her stop until two stops later.

Katara is a singer at heart and very art-inclined. She knows about the secret stairwell (secret because it wasn’t common knowledge about its lack of alarm) because the acoustics are perfect and the walls are like a vocal booth, and she likes to go there and sing every now and then.

She goes there one day and, after listening to make sure she was alone, starts singing. It’s beautiful of course.

When she’s done, Aang suddenly appears over the railing above her. He looks like he spent the half-hour before she got there crying, but his smile is so warm it’s almost searing itself into her brain. “That was amazing!!”

Katara screams because he appeared so suddenly. Aang, startled and still light-headed from crying, falls over the railing and onto her landing of the stairs. Appa pokes his concerned head out from the bars and, for the first time ever as far as Katara knew, barks a low, sad woof.

Aang breaks his leg but that doesn’t break his smile. He’s telling Katara how good of a singer she is even as Katara—getting whiplash between being flustered and guilty and worried for his sake—drives him to the hospital in her brother’s car (that he left over break and that she had to hotwire since Sokka didn’t leave her the right key because of course he didn’t).

After the hospital, they find out (at 3 in the damn morning) that their complex’s elevator is broken until further notice. Because of course it is.

Katara makes it her sworn duty to carry Aang up and down the stairs whenever he needs her to. They have to exchange numbers for this, of course. And she might have to stay with him on campus in between classes so he doesn’t have to wait for her when he needs her. And she might need to help him walk Appa since she’s concerned about Appa tugging too hard (like he did when he met Katara) and hurting Aang by yanking him off his crutches.

To say they get to know each other quickly is an understatement. It’s like they’ve known each other their whole lives.

One night, it’s storming really bad. Katara wakes up to a crack of lightning, sees a text from Aang that he needed help getting down the stairs, realizes it’s from ten minutes ago, loses her collective shit, throws a jacket over her pajamas, and rushes to the stairwell.

Aang is on his bum and crying and scooting down the stairs towards her. He’s the picture of pathetic and in desperate need of a hug. Appa is right beside him and gently licking Aang while very quietly woofing.

Katara carries Aang down the rest of the way to her landing of the stairs. They sit against the door. This time, she stays with him, right beside him, as he cries.

Katara doesn’t like the sound of his crying in the stairwell, so she starts humming and quietly singing to him. It’s beautiful, of course, and the acoustics make it even better. It’s a sad song that could be sung in such a way to make it happy, and Aang calms down.

Aang tells her about Gyatso passing away and how he officially has no family left.

Katara still doesn’t know what to say. That’s a running theme when she talks to him, it seems. Her mouth just says whatever her heart is thinking, so she holds him a bit tighter and tells him that he still has her. She helped him get by after she broke his leg. She could help him smile again even though she wasn’t the one who broke his heart.

Katara is art-inclined and invites Aang into her apartment for tea, and, after noticing that no one else signed his cast but her (everyone always leaves…), she asks him if she could paint it for him.

He’s ecstatic and tells her to put whatever she wants on it. She could put paint on her face and smear it on and he would love it.

They joke around and Aang tells her about Gyatso and his passed family and where he’s from, and Katara tells him about her mother and her brother and what her dreams are.

Katara paints the whole cast with clouds that look kindof orange and yellow because they’re warmed by a sunset, and on top of the clouds she paints leaves on a vine with tiny shells and waves curling up the cast.

Aang loves it of course. To repay her, he asks if she would go penguinsledding (a wacky type of normal sledding) with him once he got his cast off since winter was just around the corner

She agrees of course. But when they finally do go penguinsledding, Katara realizes that she’s not as good at it as she used to be since she hadn’t done it since she was a kid.

Katara breaks her arm.

Aang vows to braid her hair for her whenever she needs him to. He might have to meet up with her every morning. And he might cook breakfast for them while he’s at it since he’s an early riser. And he might go with her to the grocery store to help carry her things (with a little pack on Appa to help).

And he might have to settle with only being able to hold one of her hands, but Katara makes it up to him since a cast couldn’t stop her from saying ‘I love you’ first, and she couldn’t have stopped her heart from saying the words if she tried. This part she did rehearse. It blurts out, though, like it had escaped, and she can’t cover her mouth properly because of her cast.

They both rehearsed the kiss that came next. And, thankfully, no one else knew about their secret spot on the stairs.

.

.

Didn’t really edit, as you could probably tell, because it was just a sparknotes version, but I hope you enjoyed the concept! Post-typing, I realize that the singing part was probably inspired by people singing the Halo theme in acoustic places lmao

[radramblog]

Album Discussion: The Suburbs

Last week I felt like I didn’t have much time to pump an album review out. Was going to be in the lab all day, had work in the night, wanted to cover something quick. Then I finished really early, and had plenty of time in the afternoon to finish things off. This week I am in the same situation as far as scheduling, but someone’s bloody using equipment I need, so I’ve got a bit of extra time now. Time to talk about a >1hr 16 track record!

Also last week, I covered an album that I felt was more interesting from a meta level than it is musically. This week I’m talking about an album that I know nothing of the meta for.

The Suburbs I was reminded of recently. Mostly because I ran into the person who bought me the CD for the first time in like a year. I understand Arcade Fire have A Reputation as far as bands go, but the thing is: I have no idea what it is. I haven’t followed them at all, I don’t know whether they’re considered good or not, I haven’t even seen any of the music videos. I have never deliberately listened to an Arcade Fire song outside of this album.

But I do like this album. So.

Okay the one thing I do know is what the album is about. It’s about growing up in the suburbs of…I think Texas somewhere. I could look this up, but I refuse. The result of this is that the whole thing is intensely nostalgic, full of reminiscence and wistfulness, childhood innocence and what growing up is like. It’s one of those, you know? That does, however, make it fairly easy to like, because I think a lot of people are nostalgic for their childhoods.

(yeah so the only music videos for this one are at the very start and very end. this is going to be a bit of a wall of words.)

This is characterised by the opening track, which is also the album’s title track: The Suburbs. It’s opening with a very folksy acoustic guitar and piano, and longing for that childhood is its modus operandi. It is, however, tinged by the anxieties of that era- growing up in the shadow of the cold war is going to leave an impact on anyone, and that cultural climate is also going to be running through the album. I think the most poignant section of the song lyrically is the start of the third verse- wishing to become a parent, so they can live vicariously through their child, show them their childhood world before the reality and the memory are completely lost. Okay that’s kinda heavy moving on- the track is pretty much built around that piano/acoustic bit, sounding relatively upbeat but coloured by these lonesome strings running through the background. It’s very effective of conveying the feeling- which is something that comes up quite a bit over the course of the album. The Suburbs is one of my favourite tracks on this album, and having it come right at the front makes it a very solid stage-setter.

Track two is Ready to Start, a faster, rockier track with this grimy bassline running through the verses contrasting the relatively bright instrumentation of the chorus. Considering the themes of the song, about working for the man, dude, and trying to escape that sort of life, it’s fairly fitting, though it’s a very different sort of nostalgia than the previous track. The instrumentation gives the whole thing this sense urgency, which is enhanced by some of the lyrics- I mean the track is called Ready to Start, isn’t it. I feel like this song would be great to try and hype yourself up for something you don’t really want to do, and I’m not sure how many songs we have specifically for that feeling.

Our next song is called Modern Man, and it feels like tumbling through a confusing life. God, I’m really getting pensive today. I feel like this is a lot because this album resonates a lot more emotionally for me than musically. I’m someone with a very weird sense of nostalgia, seeing as my childhood is pretty effectively defined into three segments, and I tend to fixate on one of them because it’s The Weird One. I’m nostalgic for high school which is when I was nostalgic for living abroad which is when I was nostalgic for when I still lived in Perth, which I do now, but I don’t know anyone from back then, so there’s a whole sense of longing, and it’s something I’ve always had, and that’s funky. And I’m still young, this isn’t going to change, it’s going to get worse, and eghhhh I’m supposed to be talking about music. I don’t really have much to say about Modern Man, I guess. It’s aight, the previous two were better, but here I am 800 words into an album discussion, and I’ve gone through all of 3 songs on a 16 track album, so maybe expect this to be a slog.

Rococo at least makes an impact real quick, with fuckin psychotic strings right at the start that’s kind of a shock to the system, especially compared to the relatively mild instrumentation the rest of the song provides. I think that’s a fairly appropriate tone for a song about looking at #thecoolkids, bemusement tinged with utter stark bewilderment. I think I’m too young to really get this, I guess. The song’s title regards an art movement that sounds extremely pretentious and fake deep, frankly, but considering the point of the song is that you don’t bloody know what Rococo means, that’s probably also fitting. I kinda wish the strings were more present throughout the song than they were, they add this existential dread to the track that I do think the later sections are missing somewhat.

Speaking of strings, Empty Room is up next, and it’s one of my favourite tracks as well. It opens with the strings but they’re fast and energetic and they’re going to blow right past you. I thought this track was in like the second half of the album, but nope, here it is. This is also where the album’s second vocalist takes the lead for a bit (she only does for like 3 scattered tracks) and she’s genuinely great here. The songs chugs like an old train, in a way that reminds me a lot of other songs; in particular, the bit between the chorus and second verse (and chorus/outro) reminds me a lot of Teach me About Dying by Holy Holy- I can’t unhear “teach me about dying, teach me about dying-dying” over that instrumental. Despite its desolate lyricism, this song’s energy is genuinely excellent, and it carries really well through the whole thing. I can’t think of a lot of songs that start on this sort of tempo and have it run the whole way through- not to keep referencing other songs, but it’s very Go with the Flow by Queens of the Stone Age. And that’s like in the top 3 QotSA songs for me, so.

It’s only just struck me how much track 6, City With no Children, reminds me of There There by Radiohead. Its mostly the percussion, I think. That’s fucking high praise, but it’s also about as far as the comparison goes. The song is pretty okay outside of that, this theme of a town left lifeless by the commercialism and capitalism of the ultra-rich and what that does to people. Maybe that’s just my reading of it, I do have a bias for this sort of thing, but I challenge you to find another one. Looking on Genius is cheating. I do like the riff the track is built around, but it gets old eventually, since it doesn’t develop at all as the track progresses- lost potential, I suppose.

The next song is the first part of the album’s first of two two-parters, Half Light I, because apparently this one is trying to be a long-running drama show now. With that said, this ballad is kinda gorgeous, and yet also kinda extremely boring? Which is a frustrating place to be, frankly. I get the feeling this is an opinion that would get me crucified, but aside from those strings what fuck, the song just isn’t doing anything for me. Maybe it’s because it’s kinda almost the halfway point and I’m just getting tired, maybe it’s just a generational and cultural divide between America/Australia and 90s-00s/00s-10s and I don’t Get It. But I’m afraid to say this one doesn’t land.

Half Light II (No Celebration), for the record, is one I enjoy much more. The instrumentation is a lot more fun, the tone is a lot more pained (and y’all know I love me some angst), as the rose-tinted lenses of the previous half are replaced by the jade of someone growing up through the GFC (and just, in general). Despite being a two-part song, the halves are very different, a deliberate dichotomy representing two facets of that same look backwards. I feel like this isn’t like other two-part songs I’ve heard before, in that you can kinda appreciate the halves separately- or, in my case, one and not the other.

Track 9, and welcome more officially to the Second Half, with Suburban War. It’s very much about reminiscing about old friends, and I think I’m going to wax personal for a bit, because I have very little to say about the song musically. I mentioned earlier that I basically don’t know anyone from back when I was a kid, and that’s kind of a product of what my childhood looked like. It’s hard to have a “childhood friend” that you still keep up with when you spend 5 extremely crucial, defining years somewhere away from where all of them are. When you leave at 7 years old and don’t come back until you’re almost a teenager. People change so quickly at that age, and I’m no exception, and so I just didn’t have the ability to relate to those same people that long afterwards, even if I could find them. I don’t resent the experience of growing up in such a fractured manner, but it means I have a fundamentally different experience to that discussed in this album. At the same time, as I listen to the closing moments of this song, with the line repeated, “All my old friends, they don’t know me now”, I can’t help but notice the similarity. The writer’s friends don’t know them because they’ve grown up, changed fundamentally as people, whereas I don’t know my old friends in a much more literal sense.

Our next song is a bit more fun. Month of May is unequivocally a rock song, as opposed to the..indie? folk? of most of its surrounds. Much like Empty Room, it’s driven by its tempo and instrumentation, but it’s a bit less dour than that one, almost a bit oldie in its rock and roll swagger. The song isn’t so utterly different that it wouldn’t fit on the album, the traces of The Suburbs still roll through the whole thing, the same guitar and percussion tones driven up a couple notches on the ol’ Mohs scale. Quite solid, ultimately, in my opinion.

Track 11 is Wasted Hours. I think it’s a kind of appropriate title, not because it’s a waste of time, but because it just kinda feels like a nothing song as part of the album. Like, it is unquestionably Part Of The Album, sonically and thematically, but I deadass would not notice if it was missing from the record. Sorry if this one is your favourite, but this one isn’t for me.

Deep Blue, on the other hand, is the song that got me into the album. There’s really something about this track, this sense of discomfort with the passage of time, that really wormed its way into me. It’s a shockingly cold song for this acoustic instrumentation that’s usually associated with quite the opposite. The piano feels desperate, the guitars grim, and there’s actual synths hiding in here- the song relates to technology, after all. It’s concern for the future of humanity, of the youth, and for, well, the Suburbs, through the lens of watching that match between chess Grandmaster Kasparov and the A.I. Deep Blue in 1996. Go watch the Down the Rabbit Hole on that if you haven’t already (and have a few hours), by the way, it’s utterly excellent.

I can’t really describe how Deep Blue makes me feel. There’s just something about it. I feel like if I hear this song again in 10 years, it would genuinely bring me to tears- it feels like loss in a way, and not the meme.

We Used to Wait has a fun instrumentation, glittery piano and that funky guitar noodling in the background, but unfortunately the chorus kinda lets it down for me. I just do not care for it, it’s really built on a vocal line that really doesn’t track for me personally. Like, I’m just young enough that a lot of the theme of the track is utterly unrelatable to me- I hail from an era that is post- the change the track is referring to. I’m focussing a lot this time around about how the songs make me feel personally, but I think that’s kind of the appropriate tack for this album in particular- like the idea of nostalgic reminiscence is so inexorably tied to your own personal experiences that there’s no way around those experiences clouding your perception of this album, and with that, how well you end up liking it. I bet this whole thing hits way harder for someone born in the same couple years as this band.

We’re up to the second two-parter, Sprawl I (Flatland), kind of the finale for the whole thing. I mean, in I’s case, it’s certainly that emotionally. The song is so utterly down, it’s lost in the urban sprawl the title and lyrics describe, and with that comes a very quiet track. Moody strings and guitar, that eventually build during the fourth verse (there is no chorus and they’re short). It does eventually resolve on a more positive note, at least, one that’s hopefully relatable to many of us- eventually, we find our emotional home is, and it’s often not where we grew up.

Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) is quite the different perspective. It’s got that other lead vocalist (I could look up her name but I won’t), it’s got a pulsing beat, and it has much more energy to work with. There are synths on this track that are absent from almost the entire rest of the album, but their introduction here, right at the end, is extremely cool. They’re cool, they’re clear, and they’re thematically relevant! I just really like the vibe of this track, and the way it trails off is similarly very good. Would recommend.

But of course there is one final track. Kind of. The Suburbs (continued) is basically a dark reprise of the album’s opener, shaded with more regret than that track is, more strings-y and whispered. It’s very short, but it acts as an appropriate closer for the whole thing.

And of course, that’s The Suburbs. In retrospect, I have a bit more mixed thoughts about this than I thought. There’s some really high highs, and some things that are just kind of bleh, but any album of this length is bound to have some misses. While I was browsing Genius to make sure I had the lyrics right for some tracks, I saw this record described as a Masterpiece, but I’m not sure that shoe fits- at least, not for me. The personal nature of this album, and anyone’s theoretical relationship with it, are such that I don’t think it can be given such a broad, universal title. I like the album as a whole quite a bit, but I personally wouldn’t call it a masterpiece.

It also doesn’t inspire me to go after more Arcade Fire. I’m actually perfectly content having them in my mind as this solitary piece, complete in its own way. Oh, they have like four other albums, but to me, Arcade Fire is The Suburbs. I don’t know why I’ve decided this, but it just works for me. So I’m sorry to any massive AF fans, but I did just dedicated 2.7k words to this album, so I’m sure you’re all satisfied.

God, next time I am going to have to cover something shorter, for my own sanity if nothing else.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 7, Number 3

Black Country, New Road

One of the funniest parts of Martin Amis’ Inside Story concerns an up-and-coming novelist, constantly asked at literary festivals to differentiate between his short stories and novels and just as consistently coming up with new ways to say that the short stories are, well, shorter.  Same deal with Dust.  These abbreviated reviews are, indeed, shorter than the full-lengths, but otherwise well worth reading.  And, hoo boy, are there a lot of them this time.  Contributors include Ian Mathers, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Tim Clarke, Patrick Masterson, Arthur Krumins, Eric McDowell, Justin Cober-Lake, Andrew Forell, Ray Garraty, Jonathan Shaw and Bryon Hayes.  

Aarktica and Black Tape for a Blue Girl — Eating Rose Petals (Projekt: Archive)

Eating Rose Petals by Aarktica and Black Tape for a Blue Girl

Aarktica’s Jon DeRosa and Black Tape for a Blue Girl’s Sam Rosenthal have known each other for a long time, but this release is the first time they’ve actually worked together. Rosenthal was so struck by the title song, one of the few from Aarktica’s 2019 release Mareación to feature DeRosa’s vocals, that with the latter’s permission and participation he created the almost 19-minute “Fleeting Rose Petals”, which features the original track backwards with wordless additional vocals from DeRosa, plus additional material by Rosenthal before and after it. The original (also included here, along with the closing “Valley of the Roses” which features Rosenthal further reworking the additional material from “Fleeting Rose Petals”) already felt like a single lambent moment in time suspended and held, and by reworking and reconfiguring that material over a full 37-minute span that effect is only intensified. 

Ian Mathers

 Altaat & Euter — Split (Ikuisuus)

split by Altaat / Euter

Two experimental drone outfits from Finland play extended abstract compositions on this split LP. Altaat’s sidelong “Palava Palaava” sounds like an orchestra tuning up in a wind tunnel as it splices long bowed tones with the rush and whir of large machinery. But however, chaotic that may sound, the actual effect is quite serene, the om of dissonant overtones melting into a white noise background of rattling, humming, whooshing mechanical sounds. Altaat’s Niko Karlsson and Miki Brunou, along with Jari Koho, subsume the noisy clatter of the post-industrial era into a dream-like, beckoning hiss. Euter, also a duo but not willing to give up personal names, works a less organically grounded sound, filling an expansive, echoey space with chortling, wobbling synth cadences, metallic clangs and staticky, between-stations blare. The long “Slowly Underwater,” unfolds in chilly surreality. You get the sense of vast metal furnaces blowing out corrosive chemical clouds, of mechanical sensors picking up and sending signals and of chittering, hurrying life amid ruins. (No, I’m not hearing anything especially watery.) “Magnetic Mammals,” which follows, is similarly machine-like and ominous, picking up vast, sirening sounds as if from a distance with bubbling bursts of radio interference in the foreground. Altaat’s side is certainly closer to conventional Western classical music, but Euter finds some intriguing, disquieting spaces. Makes you wonder what they’re putting in the water up there in reindeer land.

Jennifer Kelly

 Rrill Bell — Ballad of the External Life (Elevator Bath)

ballad of the external life by Rrill Bell ////// aka The Preterite

One of the challenges of early electronic music was its labor intensity; it could take months of recording, processing, card-punching and pondering to come up with a few minutes of music. But tools change, and with them, opportunities for access open up. The music of Rrill Bell, a German-based American musician, makes that lengthy process shake hands with instant performance. Originally trained as a percussionist, he works mainly with tapes, which he records, uses in performance, and in the course of performance, records over and re-uses again. But in concert, he tends to improvise with these materials, making split-second decisions that occasionally get preserved for potential re-visiting.  

If that sounds like a recipe for frenetic sonic action, it’s not. Mr. Bell’s tastes in original sounds tend towards bells and environmental captures, and he rarely crowds the mix. Tones squiggle and unspool, unidentifiable bumps appear and disappear, and birds chirp at the periphery. It’s easy to characterize this as ambient music, since a low-volume listen is pleasant but undemanding. But keep in mind that successful ambient music must be interesting as well as ignorable, and the dream-like sound walk of Ballad of the External Life still delivers.  

Bill Meyer

Black Country, New Road — For the First Time (Ninja Tune)

For the first time by Black Country, New Road

“Sunglasses” erupts out of a blare of feedback, a roar of guitar noise that splinters and disintegrates as you trace its melody. Synths sound like police sirens. It’s all very slow and ominous, and for a minute, all those Slint comparisons make sense. And then it resolves into something like an indie rock song, spoke-sung over thunderous drums by one Isaac Wood, he of the tremulous voice and the unreliable narrative, whose art song proclivities may bring bands like Wild Beasts to mind, though without the fey falsetto. The song is a marvel of bravado and doubt, working the soft seam between ordinary male adolescence and mental illness, and the sunglasses play a key part. Says Wood, “I am looking at you with my best eyes and I wish you could tell/I wish all my kids would stop dressing up like Richard Hell/I am locked away in a high-tech/Wraparound, translucent, blue-tinted fortress/And you cannot touch me.” (Also, later, “I am more than adequate/Leave Kanye out of it,” which strikes me as brilliant for reasons I can’t fathom.) The point is that there are startling, riveting lyrics here, of the sort that you could make a case for leaving it unadorned, but Black Country, New Road is not interested in simplicity. The rather large ensemble includes not just the regular rock instruments but saxophone, violin and synths, all knotted up in proggy complexities and paced by a drummer (Charlie Wayne) good enough to give Black Midi’s Morgan Simpson a run for his money (the two bands are aligned and friends and Black Midi gets a name check in one of the songs). Indeed, the opening track of this six-cut collection is aptly titled “Instrumental,” a whirling gypsy klezmer cubist fantasy that is, if anything, nervier and more complicated than the vocal tracks. This is exciting, volatile stuff that could go anywhere from here.

Jennifer Kelly

 Deniz Cuylan — No Such Thing As Free Will (Hush Hush)

No Such Thing As Free Will by Deniz Cuylan

Everything about Deniz Cuylan’s solo debut is understated. Six instrumental tracks running to just 27 minutes, released on the fittingly named Hush Hush Records, No Such Thing As Free Will seeks to evoke something subtle and universal out of minimal ingredients. There’s a robust architecture to this music, generating a sober, contemplative mood. Arpeggios on nylon-string classical guitar cycle around in precise arcs, gently bolstered by piano, clarinet and cello. The space in opener “Clearing” shyly invites the listener in; the record reaches a modest peak in the bright harmonics of “She Was Always Here” and the almost joyful elegance of “Flaneurs in Hakone”; then the music recedes into a melancholic fog on the closing title track. It’s telling, therefore, that Cuylan has worked as a soundtrack composer — his music feels complementary, receding modestly into life’s scenery rather than commanding the spotlight. 

Tim Clarke

 Arnold de Boer — Minimal Guitar (Makkum) 

MINIMAL GUITAR by arnolddeboer

Somedays you just don’t do what you’re supposed to do. At the end of the last summer, Arnold de Boer decided to extend his holiday by a day and take a walk around town. When he got back home, he sat down, picked up an instrument and listened to the music that came out of his fingers. The music was no more expected than the activity that preceded it. Instead of the rough, voltage-enhanced intricacy of the music he plays with The Ex or his one-man band, Zea, de Boer played a set of acoustic guitar solos. Neither ostentatious nor self-consciously rustic, de Boer’s playing tends to zero in on an idea and see where it wants to go. Each rhythmic pattern, decaying harmonic, or rap on the body proposes an idea, which de Boer either explores or restates with minimal variation. Ah, there’s that word. This isn’t a study in minimalism, but an appreciation of how little you need to do if the original idea is sound. 

Bill Meyer

Dusk + Blackdown — Rinse FM Mix January 28, 2021 (Rinse FM)

Rinse FM · Keysound (100% Keysound Production Mix) - 28 January 2021

I’m not sure there’s a place left on the internet better suited to explaining the rise of grime, dubstep and its attendant mutations than Martin Clark’s aging Blogspot under his Blackdown alias. From ground zero in London, Clark has been documenter, eyewitness and participant alike, a true lifer fully evidenced by his longtime partnership with Dan Frampton, aka Dusk, showcasing new music on their monthly Rinse radio show and Keysound Recordings record label. They’re an essential part of the culture, so it’s especially pleasant when they serve up some of their own riches. After the traditional December year-end roundup show, Dusk and Blackdown came roaring out of the gates in January with an all-Keysound broadcast in the middle of the night that features gobs of unreleased rollage over its two hours. It’s a nice reminder that though time may pass, URLs may cut out and memories may dim, some are still putting in the work one release, one radio show, one listen at a time. The sound is the key is right.

Patrick Masterson   

 EKG — 200 Years Of Electricals (Bandcamp) 

200 Years of Electricals by EKG (Ernst Karel & Kyle Bruckmann)

Most things don’t hold their value. Why should time be any different? So, if Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote 100 Years of Solitude in the 1960s, EKG might as well proclaim 200 Years Of Electricals in 2021. EKG is Kyle Bruckmann (double reeds, analog electronics, organ) and Ernst Karel (analog electronics, microphones). The duo first convened in the mid-1990s, when both men lived in Chicago, and Karel was mainly known as a trumpeter. They’ve carried on in sporadic fashion ever since, playing increasingly rare concerts as each man moved away from his original home base. They’ve turned snippets from these shows into subdued musical constructions, which they’ve issued on a number of compact discs over the years. For their first release in over a decade, the duo, who currently both live in the Bay area, have ditched the trumpet and the physical album format, and incorporated some of the field recordings that have become Karel’s main sound material in his solo work. But in other respects, this effort is every bit as concerned with iteration and inevitability as Marquez’ book. When you flip a switch, something hums. When you layer quiet sounds, they don’t necessarily get louder, but they do exert a stronger magnetism upon your ear. And you when spread your quietness over a vast stretch of silence, efforts to follow the sound inevitably do strange things to your sense of time. Wait, how many years have we been listening to that crackle? Why stop now?

Bill Meyer  

 Michael Feuerstack — Harmonize the Moon (Forward Music Group)

Harmonize the Moon by Michael Feuerstack

Montreal-based singer-songwriter Michael Feuerstack sweeps aside all extraneous fluff on his new album, Harmonize the Moon, zeroing in on precise finger-picked guitar parts, vivid lyrical imagery and a stark, affecting tone. He has a knack for smuggling blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments of understated wonder into traditional-sounding folk songs you’ll imagine you’ve heard somewhere before. Indeed, he wryly admits to recycling the past in the opening song: “I used to be a singer, bumping around in the astral plane / Picking up astral trash, to polish it up again.” Though the foundation of guitar and vocals carries most of the weight, there’s tasteful reinforcement from vocal harmonies, electric guitar, lap steel, bass and drums. Amid these clean, spare arrangements, some of the lines stop you in your tracks, like the following from “Too Kind”: “The world is broken mirrors, traps and triggers / And cold blood pools in the kindest eyes.” With 10 finely honed songs running to just over half an hour, everything is measured and rather lovely. (Beautiful cover art, too.) 

Tim Clarke

Michael and Peter Formanek — Dyads (Out Of Your Head Records) 

Dyads by Michael and Peter Formanek

Virtuoso bassist, stalwart sideman, solid bandleader, fearless improviser, intriguing composer — Michael Formanek is all of those things, but he’s also a cool dad. At least that’s what it looks like from the outside. Not only did he include his son, Peter, in his musical activities from an early age, giving the youngster a chance to sit in with the likes of Tim Berne and Jim Black. Upon Peter’s return home from college, he joined him in a working duo. Dyads is their first recording, and it is testimony to the merits of giving the kid first-hand experience in the family business. Peter, who plays tenor saxophone and clarinet, has learned the merits of having a bold tone, a flexible improvisational approach and a way with a tune. Their performances unfold with a combination of patience and pith, which permits the listener to savor the elegance with which each musician supports the other. 

Bill Meyer

 Chris Forsyth & the Solar Motel Band — Rare Dreams: Solar Live 2.27.18 (No Quarter)

Rare Dreams: Solar Live 2.27.18 by Chris Forsyth & The Solar Motel Band

Chris Forsyth teams with Sunwatchers Peter Kerlin and Jason Robira at London’s Café OTO for expansive, incendiary jams that will remind you like a physical ache of what you’ve been missing in live music this awful year. “Dream in the Non-Dream” is a wide-horizon, endless vamp, driven ever forward by Kerlin and Robira in lock-sync, while Forsyth ratchets up tension with a car jack, then spins it off in wreckless, fiery abandon. “The First Ten Minutes of Cocksucker Blues” similarly balances rigor and open-ended-ness, marking off the measures with a hammering, repetitive cadence that becomes a mantra over time. There are also two Neil Young covers, both tending towards the electrified, Crazy Horse side of things, a slow by blistering “Don’t Be Denied” and a raucous “Barstool Blues” from Zuma. It’s all great stuff, and it might hold you for a month or two until we can all crowd up to the stage again.

Jennifer Kelly

 Alexander Hawkins — Togetherness Music (Intakt)

Togetherness Music by Alexander Hawkins

Whether you listen to him in duos with Evan Parker or Tomeka Reid, small bands like the Chicago/London Underground or Decoy, or leading his own ensembles, English keyboardist Alexander Hawkins accompanies and improvises with an astute perception of the situation’s requirements. The title Togetherness Music can be taken several ways. The six-part suite combines parts from two different commissioned pieces, and it brings together elements of free and conducted improvisation, scored chamber music, and some discrete electronic interventions. Passages showcasing Evan Parker’s intricate soprano saxophone lines and Mark Sanders’ kinetic percussion contrast and coexist with rich and patiently evolving string passages executed by the Riot Ensemble. This music feels less like a sum of differing approaches than the expression of a cohesive in which all Hawkins’ good ideas fit together. 

Bill Meyer

Russell Hoke — The Melancholy Traveller (Round Bale Recordings)

The Melancholy Traveler by Russell Hoke

This release follows up on the archival compilation A Voice From the Lonesome Playground from 2016 of Hoke’s material from small run releases of the 1980’s. With the new material here, Hoke delves into the unadulterated sound of voice and guitar or banjo, with mainly his own songs of loneliness and also the singularly bittersweet moments of existing as yourself, free and detached from society. Also covering two beautiful takes on Sandy Denny songs, which fit into the UK/US traditional direction of the rest. The album rests in the same delicate territory as other folkies such as Connie Converse, Jackson C. Frank, or even the more sedate songs of Daniel Johnston. What brings the album together is the expressiveness in any given moment of a song. The tact and execution consistently bring the emotion of the songwriting home.

Arthur Krumins  

 In Layers — Pliable (FMR) 

Pliable by In Layers

In Layers puts up a middle finger against anyone who thinks that European unity is a passed fancy. The quartet’s members come from Portugal, Iceland and Holland, and their collective experience encompasses Nordic music theatre, lyric free jazz and the tooth-powderingly loud trio, Cactus Truck. But the music they make doesn’t really sound like any of that. Guitarist Marcelo Dos Reis, drummer Onno Govaert, pianist Kristján Martinsson and trumpeter Luís Vicente improvise music that is spacious enough to frustrate viral transmission, but composed of elements hefty enough to tip a scale. There’s plenty of bravura playing, but the displays are subordinate to the music’s abstract cohesion. You won’t hum it, but you won’t forget it, either. 

Bill Meyer

 Just For the Record: Conversations With and About “Blue” Gene Tyranny

Composer, writer and pianist Robert Sheff, better known as “Blue” Gene Tyranny, collaborator with everyone from Iggy Pop to Robert Ashley, passed away at the end of 2020. Just before that, David Bernabo’s documentary about Tyranny’s life and work, and more generally about the avant garde world Tyranny was a vital part of, how much of it almost vanished and the ways it continues to be vibrant even today, was released. For a while Just For the Record was available to rent, but this year Bernabo made it available for free on UbuWeb Film. It’s a wonderful watch for anyone who’s a fan of “Blue” Gene’s work, for sure. The conversations with him are near the end of his life, but his evident joy in music and art and people shines through, and the conversations with Joan La Barbara, David Grubbs, Kyle Gann and others cast new light on both his history and work and importance and the group of artists that he worked with and around. There’s so much here you almost wish for a miniseries instead (one episode on reissue labels and blogs, one on Robert Ashley’s operas, one on Tyranny’s time as a Stooge…), but given how overlooked artists like “Blue” Gene Tyranny often are, it still feels like a gift to have what’s here.

Ian Mathers

Kariu Kenji — Sekai (Bruit Direct Disques) 

Sekai is a COVID-era exercise in circumstantial lemonade-making. Kariu Kenji’s band, OWKMJ, executes intricate, quick-changing jazz rock with aplomb. Stuck alone at home, he has made a solo record that never betrays his prodigious dexterity as a guitarist. Instead, Kenji has fashioned an album of low-key, keyboard-heavy bedroom pop. It is low key, almost to a fault, since you could easily miss the subtle fault lines between clean and distorted sounds, let alone the moments when he unobtrusively pulls the rhythmic rug out from under a song. The songs poetically render small memories and quietly absurd scenarios, which are considerately translated for the benefit of people who won’t understand Kenji’s all-Japanese crooning. 

Bill Meyer

 Kid Congo and the Pink Monkeybirds — Swing from the Sean Delear (In the Red)

Kid Congo Powers has been in more great bands than anyone I can think of — The Cramps and The Gun Club to start with, but also Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds, Divine Horsemen and, just last year, the Wolfmanhattan Project with Mick Collins and Bob Bert. That’s exalted company all round, and his latest, with Pink Monkeybirds, is no slouch alongside any of them. It begins with a vamping, churning, soul-funk-psychedelic “Sean DeLear,” which commemorates the recently deceased Bay Area punk-fashion icon in exultant, chandelier-swinging style.  All three side one cuts are bangers, spinning out Sam & Dave bass-and-drum foundations into dayglow garage extravaganzas, but the 14-minute b-side “He Walked In” takes things in another direction, slowing the pace down and letting the music smoulder, a trippy hippy flute weaving through heat-shimmered desert psychedelia. Like the opener, it’s an elegy, this time to Gun Club front man, Jeffrey Lee Pierce, a haunted surf rock dreamscape where spirits dwell.

Jennifer Kelly

 Katy Kirby — Cool Dry Place (Keeled Scales)

Cool Dry Place by Katy Kirby

Katy Kirby makes a stripped down, lofi pop that aspires to bigger things. Even low-key, acoustic strummed, bedroom ballads like “Eyelids” are always on the verge of busting out into flute-y, melismatic diva choruses. Even the tender “Cool Dry Place,” dreams of a big pop payoff and gets there in the end. And the single “Traffic!” is strung through with the tension between its muted, all-natural melody and the crescendoing climax that waits at the end. Here Kirby’s plain, wholesome voice gets threaded with fluttering autotune, not because she can’t hit the notes, but because that’s how big pop songs sound. This is the opposite of Katy Perry doing carpool karaoke. It’s acoustic, unadorned versions of songs that long for mainstream gloss and glamor.

Jennifer Kelly

 The Koreatown Oddity — “Breastmilk” b/w “My Name Is Dominique” (Stones Throw)

Breastmilk by The Koreatown Oddity

“I got the hook-up from my baby mama / While you fetish freaks get it off the black market.” If the cover art left any room for doubt, the lyrics soon make it clear that Dominique Purdy’s approach to the subject of his latest single is every bit as literal as it is cartoonish. While albums like last year’s Little Dominiques Nosebleed put the Koreatown Oddity’s powers as a storyteller on full display, the rapper’s rhetorical mode here is ostensibly argumentative, with appeals to the all-naturalness — and deliciousness — of his preferred “regimen”:“You looking at me like I’m a strange human / But you drinking cow’s milk — fuck is you doing?” In the space of just two and a half minutes, he also achieves a hilarious upending of a range of hip-hop tropes, from the objectification of women to the glorification of illicit substances, not to mention MC braggadocio. There may even be a comment on fatherhood in there, too, for anyone who really wants to go looking.  

The b-side of the 7” offers something different altogether, a stiff-legged but hypnotic beat beset by periodic electronic splatters and the somewhat manic refrain: “My name is Dominique and I’m a fresh musician.” Indeed.  

Eric McDowell

Bobby Lee — Origin Myths (Tompkins Square)

Origin Myths by Bobby Lee

A swamp-gassed shimmer hangs over Bobby Lee’s electric blues, as notes bloom and waver and subside like ghostly lights in a humid dusk. Bobby Lee, the man, lives in Sheffield, England, but his music dwells in some lysergic delta, in the south but not entirely of it or anywhere else. Listen to the way that notes flicker in the steady runs of “Broken Prayer Stick,” a regular cadence of them left to warp and wander in steamy sunshine. Or the way that sustained tones drift like seaweed in “Looking for Pine and Obsidian,” losing themselves in thickets of overtone and echo. Bobby Lee would likely find a kindred spirit in Tarotplane’s PJ Dorsey or in William Tyler in a transcendental mood. Like them, his blues drift towards revelation but very, very slowly.

Jennifer Kelly  

 Nashville Ambient Ensemble — Cerulean (Centripetal Force)

Thinking of Nashville doesn't typically bring to mind ambient music, nor does the image of pedal steel guitar typically suggest the work of an electronic composer. Nashville Ambient Ensemble, though, mixes those elements. What makes the group's debut album Cerulean feel special isn't its oddness — other acts, of course, do this sort of dreamy work — but that the Nashville elements remain so present. Pedal steel player Luke Schneider does much of the work to create that feel. The instrument itself has long since moved out of its traditional settings (a quick dip into the music of Susan Alcorn, for example, can prompt a fun rabbit trail of the guitar far removed from Western swing), but composer Michael Hix and this group enjoyably maintain the country signifiers even while moving into far spacier terrain. Some of the album pushes toward psychedelic swirls, but the ensemble restrains these gestures. As they head west out of Nashville, they resist simply playing a given genre with a gimmick. Cerulean isn't spaced out country, and it isn't twanged-up ambient. Instead, the group develops its own curious space.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Neutrals — "Personal Computing” b/w “In the Future” (Slumberland)

Personal Computing by neutrals

The clever punk lifers in Neutrals upload two incisive songs about technology here. The a-side, “Personal Technology,” bashes antically through a tale of a young man with an, ahem, very committed relationship with computer paraphernalia, amid crashing, Clash-like chords and rumbling bass and drums. As noted when Neutrals’ 2020 EP Rent/Your House pried Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw away from black metal mid-last year, the front-person Allan McNaughton retains a Glaswegian accent, despite decades stateside, which gives these two cuts a rough Northern post-punk glamor. But the obsession with last year’s state-of-the-art, the excruciating torture of “loading,” is all Silicon Valley, enjoying BDSM with its peripherals. The b-side takes a somewhat more expansive view of technology, asking a la Dan Melchior what happened to the flying cars we were promised. Both are sharp and stinging and utterly catchy. I’d call it old school except for its fascination with the new.

Jennifer Kelly

 Nun Gun — Mondo Decay (Algiers Recordings/Witty Books)

Mondo Decay is the audio component of a recent collaboration between Algiers’ multi-instrumentalist Lee Tesche and visual artist Brad Feuerheim (who drums on four of the tracks). The two bonded over a mutual love of 1970s Italian cannibal zombie films and their soundtracks. Joined by fellow Algiers member Ryan Mahan and a roster of guest vocalists including Mark Stewart (The Pop Group), ONO and Mourning [A] BLKstar, Tesche reconfigures the soundtracks to make explicit the connections between present conditions and the socio-political turmoil that informed the original films. Musically that means claustrophobic dub inflected industrial grind, hip-hop influenced cut-ups, mutant disco and plenty of noirish saxophone. Nun Gun emphasizes atmospheric atrophy and deliberate decay with great and pointed effect to create a terrifically dark soundtrack to accompany the book of Feuerheim’s bleak photographs of post-industrial malaise.

Andrew Forell  

 Oui Ennui — Virga​/​Recrudescence (self-released)

Virga/Recrudescence by Oui Ennui

In the words that accompany the release of Jonn Wallen’s second album of 2021, he says that “when rationalizing yet another synthesizer purchase, I've often remarked to myself, ‘Well why wouldn't I want that color? I'll have it.’” It’s that attachment to messing around with new toys, a mass of streaks of rain appearing to hang under a cloud and evaporating before reaching the ground (“Virga”), the recurrence of an undesirable condition (“Recrudescence”), and what seems to be a whole lot of Brian Eno (“Oblique Strategies”) that informs these two extended avant-garde digressions. “Virga” is a roaring 24-minute star birth that veers into plinking helicopter rotaries without warning at one point, while “Recrudescence” covers more ground both literal (it’s 39 minutes) and figurative (woodland creatures, Space Age percolations and various rhythms sprout up throughout). Likely better experienced at high volume in a small club setting, we’ll have to settle instead for our headphones barely handling another intriguing development in the ongoing Oui Ennui experiment. How long before DFA co-founder Jonathan Galkin stops lurking in his Bandcamp buys and starts offering him a deal, I wonder? 

Patrick Masterson 

 Payroll Giovanni \ Cardo — Another Day Another Dollar (BYLUG Entertainment)

At some point in his career, Payroll Giovanni switched from worker to boss. His new album with the producer Cardo is another chapter in the Boss of All Bosses saga. Songs on the CD approximate the language of business manuals and the cheap sloganeering of workers union reps. Work harder, save more, invest, save again — the usual tips handed down to the unfortunate few who didn’t make it like Payroll did. By the middle of the album, you start to feel like you are at a stakeholders meeting where the CEO went for rapping instead of a PowerPoint presentation. When the rapper fails, it’s hardly the producer’s fault, so Cardo just plays up to Payroll with lazy, muzak-ish beats. 

Ray Garraty

 Rio da Yung Og \ Nuez — Life of a Yung Og (Southern Giants/Ghetto Boyz)

Rio da Yung Og has been working with a lot of producers (and quite a few of them later got their fame because of it), but up until now he hasn’t released a collaboration with a single producer. His EP with Nuez came out of nowhere but it is a nice change of beats. Up to now, Rio has mostly recorded his raps with very bassy beats. Nuez provides a Southern vibe, more relaxed and less heavy on the bass, which allows to Rio shine. At this point it’s evident that Rio da Yung Og saves his best lines for his solo work (just compare this EP with simultaneously released Heatcheck EP, a collaborative work with artists of varying degrees of talent). In fact, the whole 21 minutes seem to be recorded in one single sleepless studio session with Rio freestyling his way through under the heavy influence of lean. This is Rio at his most desperate, just before his five-year bid in the federal pen. On “Whatchu Need” and “Last Call” (thanks to Nuez’s production) he sounds close to the early Scarface in a paranoid mode. 

Ray Garraty 

 Ben Roidl-Ward and Zachary Good — arb (Carrier) 

arb by Zachary Good and Ben Roidl-Ward

A decade back, bassoonist Ben Roidl-Ward and clarinetist Zachary Good were students at Oberlin College. The two friends formed a duo, The Arboretum, which performed new works. Nowadays they teach and perform separately, but share an apartment in Chicago. When the city got locked down and their gigs dried up, they revived the band, after a fashion. The six pieces on arb (named after that first project), which clocks in at just under half an hour, focus on a single musical phenomenon. Each musician plays sustained multiphonics (a technique whereby a horn player sings or hums a note while playing another) that are pitched close enough that their sounds interfere as well as blend with one another. The interactions can be dramatic; on “Guby,” the clarinet sounds like it is keying morse code into the fabric of the bassoon’s timbres. Listening to this music is a bit like staring at a heat mirage; the harder and longer you focus, the less certain you are of your own perceptions. 

Bill Meyer.

 Rotura — Estamos Fracasando (Self-released)

Estamos fracasando by Rotura

This new EP of melodic anarcho-punk from Barcelona is deceptively breezy stuff. Rotura’s guitars have some crunch and the rhythm section is tight — think Subhumans c. Rats meets Orange County in 1982. But the alto vocals of Silvia (no last names provided) are clean and tuneful, and there are seductive hooks galore. All the musical excitements and pleasures contrast with the intense reports of misery and struggle in the lyrics. “Pisadas (Confinament)” sounds like a COVID-period song, documenting the sound of footsteps resounding through a network of deserted streets and abandoned shops; “Sobrevivir”engages the manifold alienations and inhumanities that attend the refugee crisis in Europe’s Mediterranean nations. Upbeats subjects, those ain’t. But the music keeps your hips shaking and your head nodding. Rotura constructs lively sonic spaces in which to encounter some sharply political punk discourse. One of the EP’s best songs is “Palabras,” which sets to music a poem included in Svetlana Alexandrovna Alexievich’s The Unwomanly Face of War (1987); like much of that book, “Palabras” speaks in the voice of a female combat veteran of the Soviet Army, one who served in World War II. It’s a terrific song, from a very good punk record.

Jonathan Shaw

 Sahara — The Curse (Regain Records)

The Curse by Sahara

Argentine miscreants Sahara bill themselves as a “stoner doom” band, and one wonders why anybody would willingly self-apply a label so surpassingly stupid to music they made and presumably care about. The middle-schooler-with-a-magic-marker degree of technical polish on the art for the cassette’s j-card doubles down on the crispy-fried semiotics — but sort of lovably so. This reviewer was rather charmed. If you can penetrate the choking layers of weed smoke and unironic hesherdom to press play, you may be pleasantly surprised. Sahara’s songs don’t evoke Kyuss or Acid Witch nearly so much as Blue Cheer, and that’s a really good thing. It’s power-trio, bluesy-boogie music, played by dudes who cut their teeth on Master of Reality and No Sleep ‘til Hammersmith (with just a little Physical Graffiti in the mix, for the boogie). While no wheels are being reinvented (or competently balanced, for that matter), there’s a winning rawker quality to the enterprise, kicked up a notch or three by the unambiguously great time these guys are having playing the tunes. It won’t be for everyone: it sounds like it was recorded in someone’s Dad’s garage, and the songs have titles like “Altar of Sacrifice” and “The Curse (instrumental).” But if you love the fact that they included “(instrumental)” in parens, it could be for you. Buyer beware: when listening, you may find yourself suddenly craving a sheet of brownies. The entire sheet.  

Jonathan Shaw

 Bernard Santacruz / Michael Zerang — Cardinal Point (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Cardinal Point by Bernard Santacruz & Michael Zerang

French bassist Bernard Santacruz and Assyrian-American percussionist Michael Zerang have encountered each other in larger ensembles on either side of the ocean since the turn of the century, but it took them until the autumn of 2019 to record a distillation of their musical concord. Beyond their shared history, they are matched in depth of experience. Both were born in the latter half of the 1950s, and each has passed through a myriad of improvisational settings on their way to developing their respective styles. Santacruz is an economical player with a beautiful, rounded tone. Zerang can supply whatever rhythm you need, but whenever freed from time-keeping requirements, he gravitates to sounds that project the movement and friction required to make them. So, while this is a record made with drums and a double bass, it’s by no means a groove-bound affair; melodic fragments confront seething ruptures, and strings and skins knot together into thickets of texture. Each man maintains his individuality while they jointly solve the problems of collaborative music-making.

Bill Meyer   

 Ignaz Schick & Oliver Steidle — ILOG2 (Zarek)

ILOG2 by Ignaz Schick & Oliver Steidle

 These two German gentlemen lay down a bizarre yet intriguing hybrid of free jazz, hip hop and musique concrète on their sophomore effort as a duo. Schick is a serial collaborator who divides his time between turntablism and saxophone skronk. Steidle, on the other hand, is rooted in the free jazz world as a drummer. Together they conjure two distinct modes: ADHD-inspired percussion-and-noise workouts and atmospheric electronics-forward soundscapes. Between these two disparate personalities, the more aggressive one tends to dominate. It’s in this high-energy state that the duo dwells in the worlds of hip hop, jungle and free jazz. Steidle’s drumming is out in front, as he deftly throws himself around the kit with the enthusiasm of Lightning Bolt’s Brian Chippendale. Schick takes an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach to noise-making. His Bomb Squad-meets-Pierre Schaeffer method of weaving snippets of speech, instrumental passages, drones, and blasts of noise is the perfect foil for Steidle’s frenetic skin-pounding. Schick and Steidle tug at the outer limits of beat-making with their unusual blend of electro-acoustic sound, and while they let a slight touch of the ethereal temper their blaze, the sparks still fly. 

Bryon Hayes 

 John Tejada — Year Of The Living Dead (Kompakt)

Year Of The Living Dead by John Tejada

On Year Of The Living Dead, John Tejada chases the human through machines, seeking the traces of connection and shadows of loss blurred by the conditions we continue to live through. His minimal dub-inflected techno is immaculately produced and composed rather than constructed. Suffused with warmth and emotional depth, Tejada employs a sonic palette the elasticity of which makes his music generously expansive and resonant. Melancholy chord progressions, heartbeat percussion, a bottom end in turns ominous and cocooning.  The 4X4 structure provides a framework in which Tejada is free to focus on the granular aspects of tone, pitch, ebb and flow so that while on the surface his brand of microhouse may sound “all the same” there is both plenty of interest for home listeners and danceable beats for the more active. There’s no abrasion here, no confrontation, little to challenge but Tejada’s music moves along with the relentless soft power of molten molasses.

Andrew Forell

 Tree — Soul Trap (self-released)

SOUL TRAP by TREE

Tremaine Johnson is one of those heads who’s been around the block. He’s gotten that MTV airtime, he’s done records with Chris Crack and Vic Spencer, he’s outlasted a car company that sponsored one of his EPs, he’s performed at Pitchfork. But maybe more than anything, the Chicago rapper and producer wants to make sure he doesn’t forget his roots as the father of “soul trap” — and you don’t, either. Following steadily on from 2020’s abbreviated The Blue Tape and nearly two years on from his last proper full-length We Grown Now, Tree has lost none of his step as he rounds 40 years aboard this tainted orb exuding the confidence of a relaxed auteur rowing through verses and songs at his own pace; his sandpaper vocals sound at ease with his beats as he addresses negotiating parenthood, bills, the creation and maintenance of his art. Though these tracks had reportedly been sitting around for years before Soul Trap’s release, listening to this album only goes to serve the greater point that the man has a style out of step and time with his contemporaries. That’s worth more than remembering; it’s worth celebrating.

Patrick Masterson

 Dave Tucker / Pat Thomas / Thurston Moore / Mark Sanders — Educated Guess (577 Records) 

Hale, hearty, and steeped in the lore of a multitude of American underground art movements, Thurston Moore always seemed like a guy who was creatively rooted in his native soil. But he seems to have found solid footing since moving to England. On this record, he fits right into an improvising ensemble that is composed of Café Oto regulars. Keyboardist Pat Thomas, drummer Mark Sanders and guitarist and electronic musician Dave Tucker, who convened the quartet, are all long-standing members of London’s improvised music scene. But Moore, a punk from way back when, was probably quite tickled that Tucker played with the Fall for a brief spell in 1981. The sound they develop over the course of this set is pleasingly unbounded, with fragments of monster movie sound design and some jungle-style drum machine beats that could have been pulled from a pirate radio broadcast in 1994 sharing space with cavernous prepared piano, restless percussive exploration, and Moore sounding just like himself, but respectfully restrained when the moment demands. 

Bill Meyer

 Karima Walker — Waking the Dreaming Body (Keeled Scales)

Waking the Dreaming Body by Karima Walker

Karima Walker’s second album considers the full-ness of empty space. Her songs, if that’s what they are, arise out of soft, slow drones that fluctuate in a natural way, like tides or winds or aurora borealis. They incorporate natural desert sounds captured from near at hand as she locked down in Arizona, and they unfold in a sublimely gradual way as if, like the growth of plants, the movement of continents, the melting of snow, they cannot be rushed but must proceed on their own terms. She sings, a bit, in brief, dream-haunted phrases that seem as distant and unknowable as the organ tones that swell around her. “Reconstellated” best represents her eerie blend of human and electronic sounds, internal dialogue and the wide spaces of the natural world. She murmurs, “Sonoran sky plays a movie/Draw a line to the stars inside of me/Write it down, tell your friends/I know where I am but I can’t tell where I started,” against a blipping, percolating atmosphere. The title track is, by contrast, several orders folkier and more conventional, a gentle conjunction of acoustic guitar and Walker’s clear, trilling soprano, as she considers the way the ineffable intersects with the mundane. “Seems every morning starts the same way, waking the dreaming body,” she croons in this track near the end of the album, coming up into the daylight after a long nocturnal exploration.

Jennifer Kelly

 Whisker — Moon Mood (Husky Pants)

Moon Mood by Whisker

Bassist Andrew Scott Young and multi-instrumentalist Ben Billington are luminaries of Chicago’s experimental jazz and electronic scenes as members of Tiger Hatchery, soloists and collaborators with a range of local groups. In Moon Mood  the duo performs two lengthy improvisations for double bass and electronics. Young’s bass is to the fore, and his bow work is particularly expressive as he explores the registers of his instrument. Billington works a number of patches to interpolate all nature of blips and plinks and squelchy runs that respond to and interrogate the bass. The workouts are as much an investigation of sonic limits as a demonstration of the sympathetic interaction between natural and artificial sounds, if that is even a worthwhile dichotomy these days. Moon Mood is a fascinating conversation well worth eavesdropping on.  

Andrew Forell  

 Wode — Burn in Many Mirrors (20 Buck Spin)

Burn In Many Mirrors by Wode

The guys in Manchester-based band Wode play black metal, but they don’t wear corpsepaint or futz around with severed goat’s heads and candelabras. That’s a good thing, because their music has bombast aplenty. Any additional theatrics might send the project over into a species of irritating kitsch. When Wode’s music works — as it does on “Lunar Madness,” the first track on the band’s latest LP, Burn in Many Mirrors — it’s muscular stuff, with terrific momentum and gut-thudding energy. Throughout the song, vocalist Michael Czerwoniuk does his usual stuff, chewing the sonic scenery, plentiful groans and gurgles punctuating all his shouting. Even in the maximalist context of black metal vocals, he’s a handful. But on “Lunar Madness,” there’s enough interest and excitement generated by the rhythms and riffs to offset his histrionics. A couple songs on the record are shaped by oft-handled forms, and rely overmuch on Czerwoniuk’s outsized presence; upon listening to “Fire in the Hills,” you may find yourself flashing on the self-parodic antics of Jim Dandy Mangrum, or on metal heroics that were already tired on records like Bark at the Moon. That’s too bad. When Wode clicks as a unit, they can make compelling sounds. “Sulphuric Glow” moves at a dead run for nearly the entirety of its five minutes, and while Czerwoniuk’s vocal stylings are still a bit much, the riffs are fluid and furious. If he could just dial stuff back to 11, folks might be able hear the rest of the band. They’re pretty good.  

Jonathan Shaw

[d6official]

DAY6: ‘We’ve Always Wanted to Go to India’

The South Korean rock band open about their songwriting process, their aspirations for future records, the definition of authenticity in a world that often dismisses artistry in K-pop and India

I caught up with DAY6 a few months ago via Skype–I’m told the quintet are in the middle of shooting new content for their fans and are dressed in their looks for a video, so it has to be an audio call. I can’t see them and they can’t see me, so of course there’s a lot of giggling, whispering, and moments of ominous silence that then have us all breaking into laughter together. It’s awkward, hilarious and everything you’d imagine a call with DAY6 to be. 

It’s towards the end of the year so there’s a lot going on in the band’s schedule, but they’re an unstoppable force, flying across the globe to complete performances in the U.S. and in Australia. It’s a pretty rare thing to have all five members be able to join in on a single call, so I’m happy to hear all their voices greet me. “We’ve just been on tour and we’re having a good tour so far,” says vocalist and guitarist Jae. “Everyone’s been really welcoming in their countries and really just turning up for us, so we’re happy.” 

DAY6 debuted in September 2015 with leader and guitarist Sungjin, bassist Young K, guitarist Jae, keyboardist Wonpil and drummer Dowoon. All members are trained vocalists, with Young K also doubling as main rapper, and every member contributes to songwriting and production. (The group did have a sixth member, a keyboardist named Junhyeok, but he left in 2016.) Young K also leads the songwriting process, with lyrical contribution in every single track on most of DAY6’s albums. 

The beauty of DAY6’s artistry lies in how versatile they are able to make each track within a single album–in one moment you’re listening to a stadium anthem that’s reminiscent of a young U2, and in the next there’s a segue into Killers-esque post-punk revival. If you’ve been a long-time fan, you probably already know this thanks to their genius ‘Every DAY6’ project through 2017, which saw the band release two songs on the sixth day of almost every month. The result? An expansive, experimentative discography which built two powerful albums– Sunrise and Moonrise–with B-sides that shine just as much as a lead single. Jae explains that there usually isn’t a set idea when they begin an album–a lot of the music is born through songwriting sessions with various producers, where each member gets to go explore any genre they want on their own. It’s a power they’re exercising more and more, especially all through the Book of Us series. “We didn’t really discuss a direction when we started,” Jae says. “Everyone just kind of did what we wanted, which is why the album is a jumble of this and that from everywhere.” In fact songs have a tendency to switch genres in between verses–a great example of this is DAY6’s 2017 single “I Wait.”

The group also credit the genius of JYP Entertainment producer Hong Jisang as a key factor in their creative process. “I think definitely one of our main influences is probably gonna be one of our main producers and that’s Hong Jisang,” says Jae when I ask the band about their musical influences. “He’s a writer that works with us very frequently. For most of our title tracks–actually all of them I think so far. But yeah, he’s definitely one of the main influences because he’s always been kind of our mentor since the beginning of our debut dates… even before that. So he’s been teaching us about songwriting, you know, tracking or melody writing. We have a little bit of a flow just because we’ve grown so close to him as a group.”

“Just one of the reasons why we try any kind of genre or any music is because people do have different tastes in music,” explains Young K. “So if they like at least one of them, then it’s a success for us. Another reason is because we do get to play almost all of them, almost all [their songs] at the concert. So, we do have a chance to show it to the MyDays and the crowd and you get a chance to have fun with it. And I guess it’s just what we aim for as a group.” They’ve stood strong and stuck to their guns when it comes to this process of songwriting and it’s the fuel that expands their creative process, ensuring they don’t stick to one particular sound or vibe.  

I remember back in 2016 when DAY6 began to get more popular, a lot of the attention around them was built of curiosity. As the first band under JYP Entertainment and the one of the first in the third generation of K-pop, both fans and industry professionals were curious to see where the Hallyu Wave would take them. The idea of an ‘idol rock band’ was new to the thousands of fans who had discovered K-pop after the 2016 boom of the genre, and DAY6 didn’t fit any existing stereotype–idol or band. They still don’t, and it’s a powerful statement.

This particular artistic evolution that we’ve seen with DAY6 isn’t easy to achieve in the K-pop idol-sphere of it all; our discussion about artistry in the glittering world of idol culture brings us to the topic of what it’s like to exist as what people believe to be a ‘traditional’ band in the middle of the ‘boy band narrative.’ I ask because it’s something I see often even in India–there’s this idea of authenticity always being tied to the more ‘conventional’ format of a band: artists with their instruments are deemed more ‘legit’ than pop acts. There is an unfortunate tendency among the general public to dismiss artistry created by pop stars and K-pop idols. DAY6 walk the line between the two worlds, and their path to finding that balance often demands a seesaw from one side to another. Have they ever faced a dismissal of their artistry because they’re idols who are also a band? 

“That’s a very deep question,” says Sungjin. There’s a long pause as he gathers his words and then continues, “I personally haven’t seen that big of a difference. We, as a team that emphasizes on writing songs and writing music to appeal to other people, feel that everyone who writes songs or does music has the same objective and goal, therefore [artistry] is the same thing [for every musician.] So we’re not trying to focus on those kinds of factors but just try to focus instead on our music and our creation process so that we could become more authentic artists that appeal to more people.” 

And what is DAY6’s definition of authenticity? 

“When the person who’s creating the music legitimately feels like it’s good music,” says Sungjin firmly.

Right now the authenticity in their songwriting comes from the ordinary. Lead lyricist Young K explains the members draw from everyday experiences and conversations to write songs that are relatable, raw and honest. “Lyrics wise, I could say, we got very cleaned up and very neat. During the times of Every DAY6 project, we were out of time all the time throughout the year,” he says with a laugh. “So, it gave me the lesson of like, always being prepared to write lyrics so that I could pick out a way to find motivation or inspiration. I don’t wait for that inspiration, I gotta always go look for it. For example during everyday conversation, if there’s something or if there’s a word if there’s a phrase that I like, I write it down on my phone.” He pauses for a moment and then sheepishly admits, “To be really honest, I haven’t been doing that for months now. I need to get back on it.” He also says rather than listening to new music, skimming through lyrics is always his go-to move when it comes to evolving his style of storytelling. “So I guess it’s just continuous experiences that helped me to grow and, like you said, evolve.”

I ask the band which of their songs they would recommend to a new listener to help them understand DAY6’s artistry, and there’s a collective hum as they contemplate. “That’s a really difficult question,” says Wonpil. “Maybe ‘You Were Beautiful?’” The rest of the band agree wholeheartedly, and feel the 2017 rock ballad does a great job of summing up who DAY6 are. It’s certainly a fantastic example of the band’s powerful songwriting and their uncanny ability to to delve into topics that are at times a little too real, a little too familiar. 

DAY6’s complex Book of Us series of albums have dealt mainly with the various levels of human interactions, emotions and relationships, each volume diving deeper into the complexities of what makes us who we are. The ‘Us’ in the titles can refer to DAY6 themselves, the relationship between them and their fandom MyDay as well as various other relationships the members might have in their lives. It’s also a general reference to the relationships we as human beings cultivate in our lives. The first album in the series The Book of Us: Gravity was one of their brightest releases, exploring youth and young love. The Book of Us: Entropy was a little heavier, a little more mature, exploring the beginning and end of relationships and how it changes a person. 

The band’s upcoming release of The Book of Us: The Demon is perhaps their most anticipated release yet. Set to drop tomorrow, May 11th, the eight-track EP already hints at a slightly darker route than its predecessors with its title, promising a deeper look into the core meaning of the series. The teaser for the lead single “Zombie” which dropped on May 8th shows the band wandering dazed through crowds while the track itself seems to build on angsty alt rock. DAY6 also dropped an album sampler that hints The Demon cruises through pop rock (“Day and Night”), blues (“Tick Tock”), post-punk revival (“Stop”), acoustic pop (“Afraid”) and more.

In true DAY6 style however, the tracks can change direction in-between, crossing genres from one verse to another. It’s all a surprise right up until we hear the record, which is one of the best things about listening to a new release from this band. While I’m not told any specifics, I’m assured that DAY6 plan to go bigger than ever before when it comes to future releases.  “We want to go to space!” exclaims Dowoon and the band agree enthusiastically. How does space translate sonically? “We want to go for a larger scale of music,” he explains. It’s about dreaming bigger and looking at ways to elevate DAY6’s musicianship. Jae adds, “Yeah, maybe going from just one acoustic guitar to like a full brass band or something.” We discuss possibilities of DAY6 working with an orchestra someday and it’s a pretty fantastic vision. 

Speaking of future plans, I decide to put them on the spot and ask about when we’re getting an India tour. “Whenever you guys call us, we are definitely there!” Jae assures me immediately. Young K and Wonpil explain they are familiar with Bollywood and eager to learn more about it. “I am aware it’s huge there. And recently Katy Perry did something with Bollywood?” asks Young K. We realize he’s referring to the pop diva’s massive November concert in Mumbai with Dua Lipa and he shares that it’s one of the reasons DAY6 are more eager to check out India’s concert scene. “Yeah, I actually heard it from my friend. They were telling me, ‘Yo, you should go to India’ and like wherever it is, we always want to go. If there are people who are willing to listen to us and enjoy with us at the concert, we want to go.” Jae adds, “You guys have a lot of people and for us it’s a new culture and we are always interested in going to different places and seeing new things, trying different foods… naturally the food! So yes, we’ve always wanted to go to India, so call us!” 

We spend the rest of our allotted time together talking planning a show in India for 2020 and although COVID-19 has postponed these plans for now, it’s something the band believe needs to happen. “We definitely wanna see you guys,” says Young K. “It’s always great to go to new places. Until the time that we meet, we want you guys to stay healthy and happy.”

By Riddhi Chakraborty

©️Rolling Stone India

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 73

~*~Sebastian~*~

The group of us walked the edge of the room to the stairs. Bar tables were in a line and following the other's lead I helped push them against the wall, leaving an open area for us to stand. Emma led me to stand up front with Angie right as the house lights went out. Kirk came running and I moved behind Emma to give him room. Put me in a better position to feel up Emma anyway.

A bank of speakers over the stage was on the level and aimed right at us. My ears would be ringing all night. Nothing would beat the acoustic living room show from a few weeks ago. Still, the music and energy were fun. I was sucked in, like everyone else. Unlike with volleyball, Emma didn't ignore me. While I was behind her I ran an occasional hand over her hip. Each time Emma would do something: reach behind to lay a hand on my leg, turn her head to kiss me, or lean back into me. Several songs in the music slowed. I invaded Emma's personal space, moving up on her, and wrapping an arm around her my hand was seated on her ribcage, my thumb stroking the underside of her breast. My other hand held onto her hip, keeping her close where the pressure from her relieved a little of the ache in my jeans. She cupped the back of my head and turned to nuzzle against my neck. We stayed close and moved to the beat. The feel and smell of her did things to me.

When the tempo picked up again Emma turned to the side and pulled me between her and Angie. I stayed a half step back so they could talk and react together, but I was included. There were songs they had choreography too. Not the band, Emma, Angie, and Kirk. I played along as best I could, more than once we fell together laughing. The shot of tequila layered with the edible had me happily baked. Not enough tequila to be drunk or knock down the high. This was a good buzz I wanted to maintain. I drank half of Emma’s tequila, afraid her lower body mass would make it too much and she'd get sleepy. I'm sure she has experience with what she can mix, but I'm confident my knowledge is better.

By the end, I felt like I was herding cats. Emma, Angie and Kirk being the cats. Nobody was functioning optimally, but at least I didn’t have the same level of emotional attachment to the stage. My attachment was next to me and I kept the three in front of me. We screamed the loudest when Eli’s part was over.

I leaned close to Emma’s ear to ask what happened next. She led me to the edge closest to stage and pointed. “Everyone will pack up their shit fast as they can and stow it in the corner, then head to the dressing room to cool down, wipe the sweat away, and likely have another joint while Keaton sets up. When the lights go down Eli and all will join us up here. Angie and Kirk will go backstage to meet their husbands."

I raised my eyebrows, "Are we?"

"We can or we can stay up here where it's relatively empty."

I looked around at all the people, "Lots up here."

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head no, "Not on our side. I’d rather stay here. Unless you need a hit."

I shook my head, “I'm good.” I lowered my head and got close "You ok. I don't know how long it’s been or your tolerance. You level?"

Her head bobbed, "I gotta tell you, these nights with just friends and the music. This is when I want cocaine. The boost it gives."

"I bet Keaton has some in his little bag." I snickered. I was sure he did.

"I don't think so. I don't want the crash tomorrow. I'd rather see what we get into." She met my eyes, "You being horny and all.”

She really had no idea what was going on with me right now. Very very bad thoughts that covered everything and I mean everything. I have no idea where I’m going to land. Aggressive, romantic, pleading. Any combination and anywhere in between.  "Coke makes me loud and overly friendly. Worst of all it makes me sweat. Look at pics and you can tell when I’m doing coke. So I don't. Rarely. Special occasions."

True to what Emma had said, Kirk and Angie took off as soon as the crowd noise died down a little. They would have had to fight through the sea of people if they left before the music ended. Everyone with Keaton’s group left too.  I looked around us and found, um, no one. Talk about feeling exposed. We were in a roped off side of a U. Alone, but the other three sides were crowded. Being high doesn’t generally make me paranoid, but the two of us standing in an open pasture was making my Spidey senses tingle. I pushed her back closer to the wall, using my body to block her. If anyone was paying attention to us all they’d see was my back. I was banking on being far enough in the shadows. I was pretty sure this good idea wouldn’t seem so good tomorrow when I was sober, but right now it was brilliant.

Emma sat her hands on my hips. I could barely feel them. I like that. I like the way her touch can be this barely there pressure. My body seems to register it differently. The light touch makes more nerves fire. There’s more of a psychological part. It’s intimate. Her hands on me are the only part of us touching. I can’t touch her. I want to, but I can’t. I’m not in control.

While everyone who saw her in this dress knew her every curve, my knowledge was more detailed. I risked giving myself a taste and bent to kiss her bare shoulder. “What’s Keaton’s band like?”

Her thumb moved on my side. “They’re more eclectic. They’ve been together a long time and their sound has evolved. They opened for some big names on big tours and made the jump to headliner. Things fell apart while they were doing their next CD. The concessions the record company wanted were too much. Keaton wouldn’t give up the control. They decided they’d rather stay doing their music their way. They tour a lot and have a very devoted fan base. There’s a mix of rock and indie stuff. Keaton’s lyrics are amazing and he is crazy passionate. He writes him. It’s all personal. And a big chunk is Mia.”

I nodded, still trying to ignore her thumb. “I like him. Before the show . . . there’s something about him.”

“He’s a good guy.”

Jealousy flared. Not real, the fake bullshit kind.

Emma laughed, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I laughed too. No idea what about.

“That pretend jealous look on your face. Don’t make me prove why you’re a good guy. It’ll start with words and end up my hand in your pants.”

“Ooof.” I looked behind us, just to check that there were people around. Dammit. I laid my forehead against hers. “You realize this is the first time we’ve been alone since we got here and you went shopping. We haven’t been alone since we left your place almost twelve hours ago.” That sounded much more desperate when said out loud than it had in my head.

She giggled at me.  I deserved it. “I wouldn’t say we’re alone, Bastian.”

“More or less. I need to talk to you about something important.” I tried my best to keep a straight face. Unclear if I succeeded. “Your dress.”

Emma pressed her shoulders into the wall, pushing her hips forward. “Is this not the one you wanted me to wear?”

“It most certainly is the one I wanted you to wear.” I didn’t move, my hips keeping her from stretching out more. “It’s better than imagined. But I have problems.”

“I can tell.”

I bet she could with her hips pressed into mine. “You look amazing. Every time I look at you I can’t help but think about all the things no one but me can see.” Her eyebrow lifted and her head tilted a little.

"Even when you're not smiling, I can see the dimple in your left cheek." Almost instantly she smiled. I kissed her dimple. "Right there.” I looked down at her breasts, “The black hides them, but I can see your nipples perfectly." I touched her side under her ribs. "Three freckles here and one under the curve of your ass. From the pool picture I know your twin doesn't have one, so I'll always be able to tell you apart. Don't get me started about what you hide between your legs." I traced the collar of fabric at her neck. "This is what I knew would drive me crazy all night, because this is the only place I could get away with kissing. I love kissing your neck as much as you do. How easy is it to get off?"

"Two buttons with elastic loops."

Sounded like more fine motor control than I was likely to have. "Can I rip it?"

Her eyes went wide, "No!" She started laughing and hugged me. Her laughter went on and became contagious, infecting me. Emma pushed my shoulders, looked at my face, and kept on laughing. My seduction was not going as planned. Emma patted my face, "Sebastian, I love you and want you more than anything. But right now, I'm too stoned for that seriousness."

I yelled, "Fuck!" and we started laughing again. "I worked really really hard." I buried my face against her neck, pulling at the collar with my teeth, then running my tongue around the shell of her ear. Emma squirmed away laughing. I glared at her playfully and huffed out a breath, "Horny."

"My poor baby." Emma whispered against my mouth, "Don't worry. You'll get laid tonight." She kissed me before sucking on my bottom lip.

I said, "Yay." Best as I could with her attached to my lip. I wonder if it’s too soon to leave? It is. I know it is. I don’t really want to leave. I’m having too much fun.

We stayed pressed against the wall laughing and kissing until Eli was beside us, his arms went around both of us. "Are you having sex?" He looked down between our bodies.

I blew a raspberry, "No ", and pulled my hips back to prove it. We most definitely were not connected.

"Because it looks like you're having sex against the wall."

The three of us started laughing. I looked at Eli with a smug expression, "This is your show. Do you really think I would fuck your best friend into the wall at your show?"

Emma punched the hell out of my arm.

"Ouch, Why did you... oh shit." I'd said the four letter word that begins with W.

Luckily Eli was looking at me, his eyes narrowed. "Yes. I think you would if you were pretty sure you wouldn't get caught."

My face went blank, "You're not wrong."

Mia came zipping by and grabbed Emma's arm, "Come with me." Angie was with her and the three women moved to the railing.

Eli and I watched them go then turned to each other with a shrug. We'd been deserted. I hugged him, "I like you, Eli. You're right about a lot of things." I kept my arm around him. “You were right about the wall thing tonight. You were right about her parents being asses."

Eli put his hand on my shoulder and his face was serious, "My friend, I would not lie about her parents. They do not have Emma's best interests. We... you, me, and Ed. Don't trust them." He poked me in my chest. "Protect her."

I put my hand over his mouth, "No more words. Last time we were drunk together we got in trouble."

Eli laughed, "No shit. You went and told her everything."

"Was it a test?" That had crossed my mind many times. Had Eli told me to keep a secret from Emma to see if I would?

"You're giving me too much credit. I was drunk and talking out of my ass." He held up a finger, "Had it been a test, you would have passed."

We've entered the "I love you, man." part of the night. "You're a good friend, Eli."

He inclined his head, "And you're a good boyfriend, Seb."

The house lights went down and the music started. Watching Emma, Mia, and Angie hang onto each other was what I imagined partners at a concert being like. They'd been on tour together and been through good and bad times together. I felt that connection with other actors on set, but this was different. This was the behind the scenes support system. Not just support to their “famous” partner, but support to each other. I didn't know this, but I wanted it. I wanted Emma on a set or an event with me, there for me but also with friends behind the scenes. This felt like family.

Eli and I pulled a table from the wall and sat. Boone, Travis, and Dan joined us. Kirk went up with the  support group. I felt part of the group, not an outsider. They'd taken me in as they'd taken in Emma years ago. I wanted this.

I didn't understand Emma's explanation of the differences between Keaton and Eli’s music. Maybe she wasn't clear and maybe I just didn't understand. A couple of songs in I did. At the party, I'd been blown away by Eli’s voice and expression. He could sing anything. Tonight, had been mostly original music, and while good, it lacked the emotional connection for me. The most honest reason would be the songwriting wasn't consistently as strong. They were good, but lacking that something that made them great.

Keaton was great. He had the confidence, command of the stage, and over the audience that Eli just didn’t have. Music and lyrics were next level too. I don’t know the words to explain. It was the difference between an A and B list actor. There’s something more than just talent that feeds the higher level. Keaton had it. He should be out there in stadiums and the top ten on Spotify. I understand how he didn't want to sell himself to get to the next level. I'm not sure if I'm willing to do that either.

Remembering what Emma said about Keaton writing his life and a lot of Mia, I paid close attention to lyrics. I loved them too. I could see what he was writing, feel it. After the song about her dad telling him stay away, I crept up behind Emma, hugging her from behind and kissing her shoulder to get her attention. I didn’t think Ed would try to chase me off, but the song had resonated  because she has a protective dad. When Emma turned her head toward me, I kissed her and made sure she was watching when I mouthed, "I love you." She did the same. We kissed again and I went back to the table.

For the encore, I returned to Emma. I stayed just behind her with a hand on her ass. I'd heard the final song, a strong guitar driven song about sex at the end of the world. Pretty sure I had it on a playlist somewhere. It wasn’t over when Mia grabbed my hand and I grabbed Emma. Mia led us to the backstage area. Not surprisingly she knew exactly when to leave to beat Keaton backstage. Can't say I wasn't happy to avoid going in the opposite direction of the crowd.

Keaton was the first one through the door. He immediately went to Mia for a short and breathless kiss before leading her to the couch. Mia sat at the end, Keaton laid down with his head in her lap, and Mia combed her fingers through his hair. He looked tired, but with her touch, he relaxed. I smiled and nodded in their direction, "What's the story there?"

Kevin had heard, "Aftershow ritual since they were sixteen."

"They've been together since they were sixteen?"

Kevin said, "Yes."

Keaton yelled, "No."

I cut my eyes toward the couch then back to Kevin. He shrugged, heading to the other side of the room. I pulled Emma with me to the couch where I could see the couple.

Keaton opened one eye, "Not really."

"It's a binary choice."

The rest of the room laughed.

Emma moved to the far end of the couch and pushed Keaton's feet off. "I told him you like to tell your story."

Keaton smiled, "I do."

I sat where he pointed and, happily, Emma sat in my lap with her arm around my shoulder, playing in my hair. The rest of the room started talking amongst themselves. They'd heard the story.

"We met in kindergarten. I tried to scare her with a worm."

Mia laughed, "I kick him in the shin and put the worm under a bush."

They traded off telling their story with smiles and laughter.

While they went through school together, they weren’t friends until middle school when Mia tutored his brother in math. Keaton was playing guitar in his room and Mia went to listen. From that night on they were inseparable. They would meet up after cheerleading and guitar practice. His band’s first concert was a New Year’s party in her basement. Keaton taught her to kiss before her first real date and beat the guy up when he was mean to her. Both stuck to the story they weren't a couple even after they chose to lose their virginity together at their prom. They lost touch when Mia went away to college and Keaton stayed in New York to tour and make music. Mia became an architect and was over restoration in her father's firm. They didn't see each other until almost eight years later when Mia's mother died. Keaton helped her pack up her mother's house in the neighborhood in which his parents still lived. After dinner they went to the country club where they spent their summers. Both had been married and divorced. They'd wanted so much more for each other. Neither wanted this new start to end and they exchanged phone numbers. Keaton walked her to the house and what started as a hug lacing many years together turned into a kiss. One they discussed days later and decided to move past.

They kept in touch, talking or texting daily. Keaton had been signed and was touring new music. He had insisted on two nights in Savannah where Mia lived. They stayed with her in the home she’d restored. The boy who haunted her house hadn’t been as accepting of the new people, running the halls, slamming doors, moving things, and turning out lights. After the show, Keaton liked to hang out and meet fans. Mia came over, only to be surprised by her ex-husband and his new wife. Mia had taken Keaton’s hand, hoping he'd follow along. He had and when the ex called her a groupie Keaton explained they’d know each other since elementary school. He took her out on the dance floor, positioning them to make sure he'd see Keaton kissing her like a lover.

They still said they were just friends. When Mia joined them on tour, they’d get drunk after the show and find any reason to make out and make up every reason why it meant nothing. On the last night of a break in Aspen, Mia had emergency surgery. Keaton stayed with her. Something changed in the single room they shared. Mia slept, Keaton played, and when Mia woke Keaton would care for her. Over the years they'd shared many beds, but not like this. This wasn't drunk collapse after a show. This was tender and Mia being safe in his arms with Keaton waking up to her face, laying together talking in a quiet morning.

Keaton went back to tour and wrote a song about falling in love with your best friend. Mia wouldn’t hear it until their ten year high school reunion. When Keaton wasn’t on stage he was with Mia pushing the boundaries of their friendship and testing the waters for more. He held too many scars to make the first step. Mia could. They crossed the friendship line for the last time.

Keaton kissed Mia's engagement and wedding ring, "Six months later we compulsively married after not dating for about twenty years.”

While we'd been talking another joint had made its way around the room. I was feeling giddy. I let out a happy sigh, "That's a fantastic story and a fairytale ending.”  I looked at Emma then back to Keaton, “I think I’m in love."

Keaton smiled, "With more than just Emma?"

"Not more than Emma, but I love your story and the soundtrack you wrote for it. You should get a writer to put it down and sell the movie rights. Hard to beat a good, friends to lover’ story. I’ve started writing. I'll write it. You'll help and do the music."

Emma joined in, smiling at Keaton, "You've left out the best bit."

Keaton's knowing smile asked, "What part would that be, Ms. Vedder."

Emma grinned, "The first song Mia ever heard you play. The one that started it all.”

Mia took Emma's hand, "Pearl Jam, Black."

Keaton starting laughing, "I will never forget the first time I met you."

I clapped my hands, rubbing them together in front of Emma, "Alright, let's hear this!"

Emma stood up, "I'm going over there." She pointed somewhere I couldn't see and walked away.

I watched her walk away with a smile on my face before turning my attention back to Keaton. "Where were we?"

The three of us laughed. Keaton remembered. "We were playing a club in Seattle and Ed came to check us out for the opening gig job. I was so anxious I was afraid I wouldn't be able to sing. I was expecting Eddie fucking Vedder. Larger than life rock god."  He put his hand on his chest while he laughed. “Then this dad guy showed up with Emma. I thought I was going to have to call child protection services. He never took his arm from around her and she looked terrified"

"How long had she been in Seattle?" I was assuming they knew at least that part of the story. Since they were kind of there and Ed had trust Keaton with her.

Mia made a face, "Maybe two days.”

Keaton picked back up, "Thank fuck he introduced her as his daughter and I didn't have to report him for child trafficking. She was sixteen, but looked like a homeless thirteen-year-old."

That got me laughing, "I looked like a homeless drug addict when we met."

Mia snorted, "I doubt it, but ok."

I didn't want to talk about me. I waved Keaton on. He smiled, "She was a completely different girl the next summer. Confident. Beautiful." He cringed, "Seventeen."

I winced, "Best not to think about."

He nodded, "That whole tour Ed didn't let her out of his sight."

Mia shoved her husband, "Because of pervs like you looking at his almost eighteen-year-old daughter. It was sweet. Ed was very sweet with her." She got off the couch and headed over to where my Emma was.

Keaton yelled after her, "I was a perv when you fell in love with me.”

Mia spoke over her shoulder, "I have questionable taste in men."

Kevin dropped onto the space Mia had left, "She's right." Keaton shoved him over onto me. "Just because you shove me doesn't make me wrong. Who are you perving on?"

Keaton rolled his eyes, "No one."

I shoved Kevin off me, "We were avoiding perving on my girlfriend"

"Why?" Kevin pointed to her, "Look at her."

"The night we met her," Keaton said in a dead tone.

Kevin hissed in a breath through clenched teeth, "Oh, no. She looked like she'd just gotten out of rehab."

I snickered, "Because she had just gotten out of rehab."

"There is that."

We sat talking and laughing until my face and sides ached, reaching the point where we switched from laughter to leftover quiet snickering. I looked around to find Emma. I felt my eyes crinkle as my head tilted to the side.

The other two said, "What?" simultaneously.

I pursed my lips and held a finger out," Do either of you see panty lines?" I didn’t wait for an answer, "I don't think she has on panties."

"Surely," Keaton began, "this isn't a new experience for you."

"No, but I'm very high and very horny."

[swanqiu]

A PLAYLIST FOR CHO x ERIC. @ericbrandonrp — quote from this thread.

1. latch (cover) - kodaline

and how did you do it? you got me losing all my breath. what did you give me to have my heart beat out my chest?

2. sex on fire - kings of leon

soft lips are open, them knuckles are pale— feels like you’re dyin’.

3. sigh no more - mumford and sons

my heart was never pure, you know me, you know me.

4. you (acoustic) - benny blanco ft. marshmello & vance joy

there were times when you would reach out for a little more of me, now i can see how much you hurt when i stood still.

5. to the sea - seafret ft. rosie carney

do you think of me when you look to the sea? darling, we will never break.

ess commentary: a lot of these songs center around touch and being aware of the effect that another person has on you, whether it’s a physical reaction or an emotional reaction or a desire to be better because of what this other person encourages in you. i didn’t intend for so many of these to have angsty undertones, but the messages in these songs all seemed to fit this ship really well! (and anyway, it was kind of inevitable; this ship has angst potential written all over it, tbh. it’s just a waiting game now for when we reach that part in the current thread...)

“latch” focuses a lot on the initial stages of curiosity that i think eric and cho have toward one another, especially with the way their presence or their hands can communicate a lot. it’s a lot of that desire to attach yourself to someone who gives you those feelings of comfort, and then wanting to explore more of those feelings.

“sigh no more” takes a lot of quotes from shakespeare’s much ado about nothing. the idea of eric, torn between this 1. possibility of love and 2. internalization that he’s not worthy of it or whatever, is a really interesting internal dilemma to me. it’s almost like he self-sabotages his chance at happiness because of this view he has of himself and his past, and the lyrics are almost as if he’s apologizing to cho, in a way (...like maybe when she eventually finds out about his past? 👀). in the same song, we get a resolution of yes, love is difficult and yes, the people you love might do things that hurt you or themselves and yes, we often are vulnerable and give love without knowing if it will ever be returned... but then there’s this sort of promise that these sacrifices and compromises and experiences can be worth it. and i think that’s a promise that i see cho making to eric, even after she finds out about his past. especially after she finds out about his past.

"you” is more about the reflection part of their relationship, after they’ve experienced the big conflicts and revelations about one another. even after all of this, i see eric just thinking about this relationship, looking back to when he might have been more closed off about his past and how that, ultimately, hurt the growth of their relationship at the time (considering that cho tries, as an adult, to be as honest as possible with her emotions and who she is). there was always this looming fear that she would hate him for who he used to be, and these lyrics reflect eric thinking about those types of thoughts. but ultimately, now, in hindsight, rather than hiding these parts of himself, or just straight up running and leaving, he stays. he chooses, at the end of the day, at the end of the night, to be with her. and it’s a conscious and monumental effort, but— the payoff is so, so sweet. (side note: very important that you listen to the acoustic version and not the original! the acoustic just evokes a lot more of that softness that i think gets lost in the original! ❤)

“to the sea” can be summed up with a lot of the same sentiments above, but at its simplest form, it’s about a relationship where the people in it persist despite the difficulties and the passing of time, because of how confident they are in this bond they’ve created. and i’d like to think that’s how eric and cho would be, later on down the road. just looking out over the sea and reflecting on all of the things they’ve gone through and all of the ways they’ve grown and all of the love and appreciation they have for each other— like the sea, constant and deep and there. :)

and finally, the most non-angst song here, “sex on fire” is literally exactly that lol; their sex would probably be very hot! very amazing! very satisfying! 10/10!  

honorable mentions: “stormy weather” by kings of leon; “you’re somebody else” by flora cash; and “all i want” by kodaline ;)

[maiaphaelsource]

I was the anon who sent you the trans Raphael headcanons ask on your other blog, do you have any more? With some trans Maia thrown in too🥺 like Magnus being the best trans dad to his son and the love of his sons life and being supportive and loving. Raphael kissing Maia on the forehead and telling her how beautiful she is, you know? Cute shit like that

yes!!! hello!!! i hope you know i love you and you're my favorite person in the world!! thank you so much for this ask!

okay so i’ll begin with the specifics... magnus is absolutely THE trans dad to both of them. not only with practical stuff like offering to help them with glamours, magical transitioning, stuff like that, but just... being so supportive and understanding. he’s always there, and he has so many stories to share, so many people he’s met who had happy lives. he was there for stonewall, he’s met Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, and it’s just so heartwarming for the both of them to talk to him about that, you know? that feeling of not being alone in history, of knowing that there are and were other people like you, that you’ve always existed.... it’s just great

also in maia’s case since she also lives a partially mundane life he just solves all her documentation problems like deadname? gone forever. no registers. you’re welcome. the first time maia sees her document with her name she almost cries and she throws herself in magnus’ arms and magnus is so touched and moved and shocked you know? like the gratitude and the affection and she’s just thanking him and he’s so moved and raphael just watches with a little smile in his face because he knows that magnus is moved by the display, even if he won’t say it. and maybe he tells magnus that later? like, “your kindness means more to others than you imagine,” and of course magnus isn’t important just because he’s kind but he’s used to not being recognized for his services (ahem especially by CERTAIN people) and it’s nice to see that being appreciated, you know?

plus, maia makes it a point to pay him and magnus is all like “i couldn’t possibly take payment for something like that. it’s the least you deserve” so instead maia teaches him her secret sangria recipe. magnus is super pleased but he also jokes that now he has one less excuse for inviting them over. and raphael goes, super seriously, “you never need an excuse” and magnus just melts 

raphael kissing her forehead! yes! tbh i think they both love forehead kisses (as well as hand kisses and shoulder kisses) and sometimes when she’s feeling dysphoric or upset for any reason she likes just... lying down on raphael’s chest and letting him pet her hair and kiss her forehead and tell her that it’s alright, bella, te quiero

and YES he just makes it a point to talk about how beautiful she is constantly and kiss down her whole body (not sexually of course, just sweetly?) and she giggles and it’s fun :’) sometimes things get to her, especially after jordan’s constant transphobic/racist rethoric, and it’s nice that raphael always makes it a point to tell her she’s beautiful and amazing and he loves her. and he always does it in such a matter of fact way, but also intense, you know? he has her close and he says shit like “you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever met” and she melts

as for general headcanons!

maia figured out she was trans relatively early in life, and it’s the reason she always knew she’d have to run away from her parents’ house. she was basically only planning until she had enough to be able to survive without them. but also, jordan and wanting to be able to “be with her already” rushed her out of home when she was finishing high school 

raphael and maia are absolutely willing to throw down for each other if someone’s transphobic and that’s that on that. someone being transphobic to raphael? fine, he can handle his own, he’ll end them with his words and do it with a pleasant smile. someone being transphobic to maia? they’ll be met with the usual cutting sarcasm until they back down. but if the other catches you doing that? you’ll be thrown against the wall and threatened/punched in the face so fast you won’t even know what the fuck happened 

a lot of baby trans downworlders start coming to them! they’re already an iconic couple for many reasons, what with being a werewolf/vampire couple, a black/latino couple (we need more black/latino couples okay! desperately! and black/native and native/latino too! i want more poc solidarity and romance!), and an iconique trans couple. people just feel comfortable going to them because they’ve brought so much change and are so accepting you know? 

it still surprises raphael, even after years on end, that so many people come to him for help with that. he never thought that he would be seen as the kind of person people can go to, and yet here he is. after being told for most of his life that he was cold/unfeeling/threatening/weird... it’s nice to be valued like that, to be seen as someone who can be soft and provide comfort and love, too

same goes for maia, who’s also used to be seen as agressive/violent for just defending herself and her people, and just generally reduced to being a “threat”. it’s nice to know that many, many people see her as someone they can look up to, and who they feel safe it

that is not to say obviously that they just love doing emotional labor for other people but like... having other trans downworlders, especially trans downworlders of color, come to them, feels nice. especially people who are trying to figure themselves out and approach them with so much hope and admiration in their eyes you know? the way they always come with a “sorry to bother, but..” ready in their lips and look at them like they are heroes... it’s really something

taki’s slowly becomes a place for trans downworlders to hang out, especially those who don’t enjoy clubs and stuff like pandemonium (which is totally a queer club as well bite me. including for mundanes. with taki’s that’s trickier of course since they have like, blood on their menu lmao but a few trans minors have hung out there and it was cool) for whatever reason. it’s just a cool queer-inclusive space for people who want to hang out, you know? and they love that

the first time maia saw raphael lose his cool was when a shadowhunter made a gross comment about how it’s lucky he didn’t want sex, so she wouldn’t have to deal with that. he almost tore their throat off

raphael just.... loves maia’s shoulders. she was a little self conscious of them, she always made a point to have them covered, but raphael just loves peppering kisses on her shoulders and making her chuckle 

magnus gives maia a bunch of fashion tips similar to the ones he gave raphael, just how to better protect herself and figure out how people are reading her gender and stuff like that, you know?

they do the thing where they show each other pre-transition pics (once they’re comfortable with that of course) just to hear each other be like “*outraged gasp* i don’t recognize you at all” and “oh, look how much happier you are now”, and my personal favorite, “i can’t see a boy/girl in there, i just can’t” (like personally whenever i see pictures of my partners/friends pre-transition i’m just like... i realize this is pre-transition and that you’ve changed a lot but also i’m unable to see an [assigned gender] in this photo). it’s all like “how did people not notice you were a girl? unbelievable” you know. just that sweet sweet trans couple validation ritual

together they have like. all the insufferable pun-happy sexualities (bi[romantic], pan, ace, trans) and you will be hit with those constantly in conversation if you’re a friend of them. raphael in particular greatly enjoys making those puns with the most blase, straight face as he looks straight into your eyes and watches as your soul slowly leaves your body. magnus is so proud and also afraid he created a monster

raphael is that bitch who’s like. “i heard that broccoli has a substance that’s similar to testosterone so i’m now eating 5 bowls of it” and maia wants to tear her hair out because it doesn’t work like that and he’s like “can’t hurt to try. also i’m finally able to eat let me have this” 

maia never got to like... celebrate those small transition moments because she was all alone and felt like she was transitioning in such a rush, you know? and raphael makes it a point to point out the small changes that are still going on with her body, to take her shopping and encourage her to be as giddy about it as she wants to, you know? and it’s nice and fun and he also gets to relive those small gender reaffirming moments and it’s really nice

maia is a huge against me fan!!! like not to project but it’s just... their songs are so great and relatable even when they’re not about being trans at all and laura jane grace’s voice is so beautiful and maia for sure absolutely loves punk, so like. it’s one of her fave bands for sure

she liked them since before laura came out and when she did it was like. oh. oh. so that’s why i always related so hard to her songs. it just... makes sense

while punk is not as much raphael’s style he likes true trans rebel, especially the acoustic version, where her voice just sounds mwaaahhh imo and he can listen to the recording for hours because her voice in there is just... sensorial heaven and maia feels all giddy that raphael genuinely loves a trans woman’s voice so much 

raphael always makes a point to say that he loves her voice just as much, too :)

they are just very trans and really love each other the end