#this ask can be redeemed multiple times for more songs and lyrics

[greatandquestionablecontent]

17 ❤️

What songs did I listen to!!! So many!!!

I’ve selected three big Conviction vibes that made my top 100 most listened to this year and that I want to share some lyrics from

For those interested, here’s my extremely long playlist for Conviction that I’ve been adding to for several years 😊😅🔥🥰

MMMMMHMMMMM by Four Fists (this has made my top 100 several years in a row!)

No calm, no hesitation

No alarms, no self-preservation

Just nerves and ashtrays and on and on

No sleep without assistance

Gotta bash the brain into submission, yeah

Just close the windows and lock the doors

From Here til Utopia (Song for the Desperate) by Ramshackle Glory

Because I’m afraid to look the world in the eye

If nothing’s gonna change, well, then I’d rather die

And I’m too unemployed to organize a union

I’m too intoxicated to tear down a building

I’m too hopeless to look for a solution, I’m afraid that if I found one

I’d be out of excuses for the way

I waste away in the gutters that I chose

What If We Could by Blue October

What if we could

Put our lives on

Hold and meet some

Where inside of the world

I would meet you

Would you meet me?

On a park bench

On a skyscrape

On a mountain

Oh yeah, whatever it takes

I would meet you

Would you meet me?

I'm glad to say that we've met

But I'm sad to say that the circumstances weren't

On our side

[tachiguin]

hi, english is not my native language, so sorry for any mistakes... you know about the songs of bsd characters? I really love your analyzes and theories, it seems like there was nothing about songs among them, maybe there are any thoughts about them?

Hello there, Anon! I'm happy to hear that you like my posts :) And thank you so much for asking; as it happens, I do know about the songs. Though if I'm being honest, the only one I listen to semi-regularly is Tanizaki's "Bewitching Screens" (usually when I'm roleplaying/writing fanfiction with him and need the inspiration).

I do have some thoughts, though I think the reason I never posted anything about the song is because I feel like the lyrics are kind of self-explanatory anyhow, but they do reinforce my interpretation/meta of Tanizaki.

Rambles under the cut :)

His song has a very low key, chill vibe, but only at first. It goes from carefree and casual, to something with a darker, more aggressive undertone, then finally, the ending, (which I will touch on later in this post). It's representative of who Tanizaki is as a character-- the deceptive "softboy" energy he has normally, which belies his proclivity towards violence and darker psyche.

Also, it's worth noting that the lyrics kinda just come out and confirm that Tanizaki has "secrets [he doesn't] want to tell anyone", particularly in regards to "[his] existence". The song is essentially him singing about himself, repeating the usual narrative:

Maybe that’s why miscellaneous odd jobs is sort of my specialty My social status is so-so Even getting carried away is fine,

My redeeming quality is probably my diligence I don’t even want to shed blood As far as myself is concerned

But these verses always end on a darker note:

But there is only one thing I cannot forgive

But don’t cross over the forbidden territory.

Of course, I think the other reason why I never really talked much about the character songs is because I wasn't sure how much of an input Asagiri actually had in their lyrics/composition. Like sure, there's definitely some reading between the lines to be done, but at the end of the day, I felt like it didn't really tell me anything new about Tanizaki, it's just a song about what can already be deduced based on his actions in the series.

BUT! One thing I always found interesting was that his character song ends with "Sayonara" (goodbye), WHICH could be interpreted as just a melodramatic thing thrown in there for the aesthetic, but… I guess it wouldn't be me if I didn't read too deeply into things that probably aren't that deep. I do recall reading a comment once (which I cannot find atm, if you think you're the person who originally made this connection then lmk and I'll mention you if you want) that Dazai and Tanizaki's character songs both end on the "goodbye", though now that I'm actually looking into it, it's completely different, because Dazai says "goodbye" in English (a.k.a. its another "Guddo Bai" reference, which is a completely different meta that I'm certain someone else has already written)

The thing is that there's multiple different ways to say "bye" in Japanese, and "sayonara" has a certain sentimental connotation, therefore, its really awkward and a dead giveaway that you're not a native speaker if you use it in casual conversation. The correct way to say 'goodbye' to a friend would be some variant of "Jaa mata ne" (see you later then), though notably this is pretty informal and should not be used with a coworker or teacher or senior-- but I digress! The point is that "sayonara" has the implication that you may not see the other party for a long time, possibly forever.

Okay the other element here is that, assumably, he's singing to Naomi, due to this verse:

I want to protect you (I want to be here) I want to protect you (I cannot forgive this) I want to protect (the incorruptible) everything “you” are –

Which, combined with the "sayonara", really kinda makes me wonder. I think the easy interpretation to get out of this is further reinforcement of the "Naomi is actually an ability construct and her real self died in Middle School" theory, which is valid, but also, consider that the rest of the song is about who Tanizaki is. In the chorus, he asks the listener:

Slowly…look, at the illusionary screen Tell me, what do you see?

To me, it sounds like Tanizaki is asking "do you see the real me, hidden behind this facade of ordinariness?". And when he wants "to protect the incorruptible"-- he doesn't want "you" (Naomi?) to know about this darker side to him. Again, that's just what I'm getting from the song lyrics, which weren't necessarily written with Asagiri's manga canon in mind (still unsure?). But, this interpretation is supported by the fact that Tanizaki only ever snaps when Naomi is in danger, therefore unconscious, and ignorant to Tanizaki's actions following her being harmed.

Personally, I think it's a disservice to Naomi's character to think she's completely unaware of Tanizaki's darker psyche, the side of him who would literally burn the world down if it meant keeping Naomi safe, but… BSD never claimed to write women with agency :,) On the other hand, as much as Naomi acts airheaded and oblivious, we also frequently see a much more perceptive side of her, usually, when Tanizaki isn't in the picture. It's canonically stated that Naomi is, in fact, smarter and more observant than her brother, but, just like Tanizaki, this "hidden" side of her only emerges when Tanizaki isn't around to witness it.

Anyway, that was kind of off topic from the character song, but what I was getting at was that the "sayonara" means that Tanizaki has revealed his "true self" to "you"/Naomi, therefore, he's saying farewell to the peaceful illusion he had built between them— of himself, as just a "normal guy", and of their relationship, just an innocent sibling pair that used to be high-schoolers.

Hopefully my rambles satisfied your curiosity, Anon! It's a good song, and it's pretty validating for my headcanons/metas.

[something-tofightfor]

why do you still consider yourself a fan of bb if you are just blasting him all the time

Why couldn't you ask this off anon if you're so curious and want to play the Ben Barnes Fan Police with someone that's been a fan of him for almost a decade?

You don't have to like or agree with all of the career or personal choices that someone you're a fan of makes. People taking on shitty, beneath them roles or making subpar music or dating sleeping with associating with vapid idiots doesn't make me any less a fan of their previous (or potential future) work.

I'm excited for this GDT show episode. I am very curious about why he needed to be cleanshaven because I think it makes him look like a child, and I'm leery because Netflix is behind it ... but I'm excited to see what he does with horror and with a script written by someone that I KNOW has some serious horror-creating talent.

I've "blasted" him for taking on a role as a manipulative villain that emotionally abuses and physically maims a teenager, and talking about it like there's any actual redeeming qualities to the character. I am too old for poorly written YA that is nothing but tropes. I am DEFINITELY too old for multiple seasons of overacting and shitty, low budget special effects.

Shadow and Bone wasn't the first of Ben's projects that I've side eyed when it comes to quality, either. Locked In was a goddamn dumpster fire. By The Gun was AWFUL. We don't need to pretend like everyone liked them.

I've blasted him about his COVID travel and his association with Julianne Hough for good reasons that I've gone into in detail before and won't do it again. But I know too many people that lost loved ones to COVID to ignore him blatantly disregarding the things that he used his IG to promote for MONTHS and to flat out deny personal involvement with another person that never once took it seriously.

If they'd admitted that they were actually together and didn't play up the "we're just friends!" angle, it would have been a different story. It's hard to fault someone for doing the types of things he did with her with someone that they're in an actual relationship with, but anyone that had fuckbuddies or hookups with strangers during COVID is going to get seriously judged by me - especially when you go out of your way to hide it by blocking people and deleting comments.

I've blasted his music, because I do not like it. I think the lyrics are juvenile for the most part, and the fact that he's spent so much time talking about how "from the heart" and "deep" and "introspective" they are ... and then he releases fucking songs about Tinkerbell and 11:11 and using word salad just to make things rhyme and then making two music videos where all he does is stare at the camera and look sad because women left him or he never even had them in the first place... I'm gonna question it.

If it's so meaningful to him and such a labor of love, give us more than thinly veiled "well it's not about anyone specific, it's about the things I've felt over the years". Don't spend 3 months as a 40 year old man playing emoji tag on IG and then get defensive when people assume that the songs are about one person - without ever outright denying that it's about them.

It's great that he was finally able to create and release music of his own. I'm happy that he's doing something that makes him happy, but when you release things like this - or take on "difficult" roles or date problematic people ... you open yourself up to criticism from the press and from fans. I've NEVER just blindly liked everything someone does because I'm overall a fan. My favorite band has made a few CDs that I don't like. I skip over a lot of songs on them and even on the albums that I love, too, but that doesn't mean that I like their other body of work any less. There are movies and shows that other actresses and actors that I follow have made that are flat out HORRIBLE, and I've never not admitted that. (We Can Be Heroes and Wonder Woman 84, I mean YOU specifically).

Ben has a great voice and some serious musical talent, but it's not showcased with this EP very well, and I prefer his covers to his original content.

You can be criticial of actors and musicians and artists and friends and family when they do things you don't like or approve of without turning away from them.

It's healthy to be critical of the things and people you enjoy. I have a lot of opinions and thoughts and if you've followed my blog for any period of time, you know that I've never been shy about that. I do not sugarcoat things unless there is an absolute NEED to do so - and Ben Barnes is a 40 year old man (and a public figure!) and should be able to handle some criticism when it's legitimate.

[respectablesentiment]

It’s Tuesday afternoon and like clockwork, Ellie Williams and Abigail Anderson are in the arcade. Every Tuesday and Thursday they arrive within minutes of Dina starting her shift. They don’t come on Mondays as Abby has swim practice, Wednesdays are out cause they both have soccer, and on Fridays Ellie has baseball. Week in and week out, they are here. Bickering and jeering at each other as they bounce between machines, hogging Street Fighter and stuffing ribbons of tickets into their bags. -- prompt: redemption, day 6 of elliedina week small town 90s AU one-shot, Dina works in an arcade and her best customers are Ellie and her meathead cousin

(day 1: ache) | (day 2: dawn) | (day 3: trouble) | (day 4: family) | (day 5: abandonment)

or you can read ‘crushes’ here if you prefer:

crushes 

It’s Tuesday afternoon and like clockwork, Ellie Williams and Abigail Anderson are in the arcade.

Every Tuesday and Thursday they arrive within minutes of Dina starting her shift. They don’t come on Mondays as Abby has swim practice, Wednesdays are out cause they both have soccer, and on Fridays Ellie has baseball.

Week in and week out, they are here. Bickering and jeering at each other as they bounce between machines, hogging Street Fighter and stuffing ribbons of tickets into their bags.

Dina reckons they’d come before school if they didn’t have track multiple times a week.

She doesn’t know how they do it, feeling mildly out of breath just rushing from school to her shift. But they’re gorgeous and sun kissed and athletic and it shows. Strong arms, built shoulders, trim waists, handsome and freckled and gay.

So gay.

She’s unsure if she’s ever seen Abby wearing sleeves outside of her soccer uniform, and every other shirt she owns looks as though she’s ripped the sleeves off haphazardly.

Ellie’s hair is shaggy, still lingering in the awkward stages of a mullet as it grows from a shorter cut, sticking out at old angles under a baseball cap and often half stuck in the collar of one of Ellie’s flannel shirts.

Dina loses too much time each week thinking about it. Ellie’s hair looks soft, her smile is lopsided, her voice scratchy and she just does it for Dina.

There’s something about Ellie that just works.

It’s always worked.

Dina had moved to Jackson when she was fifteen; she sat behind Ellie in math for two years and she barely learnt a thing. Awestruck and stupid at the slope of her neck and the flex of her arms.

She was better now, her tongue no longer heavy in her mouth and the urge to flee was long abandoned.

Dina had worked in the arcade for almost two years, since she was sixteen, and she’d spent many shifts sitting at the prize counter studying for exams, trying and struggling to learn what she’d missed in math that day.

“Hey Dina,” Ellie says warmly, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Hi Ellie,” Dina greets, wiping her face and hoping she wasn’t drooling as she forces a smile.

Their friendship was new and tentative. Dina still mildly nervous at times after crushing on Ellie from a distance all through middle school. She likes to believe at times that her crush was gone but over the last few months of short conversations, she knew she was slipping.

“Did you have a good day today?” Ellie asks easily.

“Yeah, it was alright,” Dina shrugs, fidgeting with her pen and looking down at her homework. “We got that history essay today though, so I think another wave of assignments is incoming.”

Ellie grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not looking forward to it,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck and Dina feels two years of her life peel away as she watches Ellie’s bicep bulge in the movement. “I’m not the best with writing.”

“I- I thought you wrote all the time?” Dina asks, swallowing thickly. “You’ve always got that notebook of yours out at lunch.”

Ellie’s cheeks turn a little pink and she glances away. “Don’t tell anyone,” Ellie says, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “But it’s all just song lyrics and bad poetry.”

Dina grins, butterflies almost violent in her stomach, her gaze lingering on the slight touch of hazel in Ellie’s green eyes.

“Essays on the other hand,” Ellie smiles crookedly. “Not my thing.”

Dina nods jerkily. “Yeah, yeah I get that.” She blinks, registering her words. “I mean- I’ll pick an essay over math any day but-” She shrugs. “Everyone is different.”

“I’d prefer math,” Ellie says, resting her hands on the counter. “It’s my favourite subject.”

“It’s my worst,” Dina admits.

“If you ever want to study together,” Ellie offers bashfully, waving a hand in the air. “Let me know?”

“I- yeah, yeah I will,” Dina says awkwardly, thinking about how entirely unhelpful that would be and how desperately she’d want that.

“Ellie!” Abby’s booming voice calls across the room. “You gettin’ change or what, dude?”

Ellie sighs. “I’m sorry about her,” she says, rolling her eyes. “She was dropped on her head as a baby.”

Dina laughs, holding out a hand to take some bills from Ellie. “It’s all good,” she smiles, opening the till. “She doesn’t really have an inside voice, does she?”

“Nup,” Ellie grins.

Dina exchanging the money without question, forty bucks in quarters is excessive but they both know it’s nothing new. Both Ellie and Abby worked weekends at their family business Miller Construction to fund it. Neither of the last names are Miller but Dina didn’t question it, always stuck on the image of Ellie in a toolbelt more than anything else. Sometimes they wrap up early on Sundays and come in covered in sawdust and sweat, ready to spend their entire pay and leave Dina breathless.

“We’re getting close,” Ellie says, looking up at the water gun on the top shelf behind Dina.

“I feel like you’d be a lot closer if you just bought one outright,” Dina says teasingly.

“We could never find a beauty like that in the wild,” Ellie says dramatically, accepting the rolls of quarters as Dina hands them over.

She’s not entirely wrong. Jackson was a small town and there certainly wasn’t another place around where they’d find it outside of actually driving to a city.

Dina doesn’t get the appeal, but she admires the dedication.

--

In the following weeks, Ellie and Abby start to come in on days after practice with wet hair and eager expressions.  

“We’re getting really close,” Ellie says again one Monday afternoon. The first time she’s shown up without Abby in tow. “Abby thinks we might hit it tonight,” she continues.

They’d been chatting for a handful of hours, Ellie had come up to get change and lingered to chat until she eventually just sat on the counter. The conversation was easy, Ellie’s smile was bright, and Dina didn’t want it to end.

So of course, Abby finally arrives.

She narrows her eyes questioningly when she sees Ellie at the counter and Ellie is almost immediately pink as she hops off the counter.

“How’d you go so far?” Abby asks.

“I, uh,” Ellie runs a hand through her hair sheepishly. “I haven’t started.”

“Dude,” Abby groans, punching Ellie in the shoulder. “Come on, get your head in the game!”

Ellie winces at the punch. “That was hard!” She protests as she shoves Abby. Abby grabs her and they begin to attempt to wrestle each other, their legs twisting as they both attempt the same move to trip the other over.

“Hey!” Dina yells incredulously. “No roughhousing!”

“Sorry, Dina,” Ellie apologises as they break apart, elbowing Abby when the other girl doesn’t speak.

“I’m sorry too,” Abby says lamely.

“Excuse my cousin,” Ellie says. “She doesn’t have any manners ’cause she was raised in a barn.”

“Hey!” Abby frowns. “That’s not true and we’re not cousins.”

“We are cousins,” Ellie says rolling her eyes.

“No, we’re not,” Abby protests.

“We are too!”  

“We are not,” Abby says exasperatedly. “You’re the adopted kid of my dad’s sister’s husband’s brother.”

“Exactly!” Ellie agrees brightly, turning back to Dina with a smile. “So, we’re cousins.”

Dina tries and fails to hide her laughter.

“Your aunt is my aunt but we’re not each other’s aunt’s children,” Abby tries to argue, looking mildly confused. “So we’re like distantly connected but not related and therefore not cousins.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Ellie says shaking her head. “If my dad is the brother of your aunt’s husband then we’re cousins.”

“We don’t share any grandparents though,” Abby says, scratching her head. “So, we can’t be cousins.”

“Dude, I’m adopted,” Ellie says with a laugh. “It makes no difference if I’m your aunt’s child or your dad’s brother-in-law’s brother’s child, because either way there’s no blood there.”

Abby frowns. “I don’t- I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Dina interjects. “I don’t think I followed any of that.”

“Anyway,” Ellie says. “We’re cousins and we need some more quarters, please and thank you.”

“We just need 217 more tickets,” Abby says, looking up at the water gun.

Dina looks up at the water gun, dust settled on grey and purple body of it. “I don’t know if it’s worth the tickets,” she says apologetically, looking at the small sign reading ‘Redeem for 15,000’ in front of it. “I have no idea much money you’ve spent so far, but you’ve spent a lot.”

“It’s the 1996 CPS 2000 Mk 1 Super Soaker,” Abby says, as though it means something to Dina. “It’s priceless.”

“Is it?” Dina asks.

“It’s the first elastic pressure Super Soaker ever made,” Ellie adds.

The addition doesn’t clarify anything for Dina and her blank expression must tell them as much.

“It was discontinued last year for the 1998 CPS 2500,” Abby frowns. “The 2500 has an even smaller nozzle than the CPS 2000 Mk 2.”

“Is that- is that what this one is?” Dina asks.

“This is the first release,” Ellie says. “The Mk 2 has 25% less capacity cause they shortened the pressure gauge and most of them have a different pump with a visible pin…” Her voice trails off, seemingly a little embarrassed.

“The Mk2 and the 2500 are shit compared to this,” Abby says. “This is the most powerful Super Soaker ever produced, better than the 300!”

“Oh wow,” Dina says politely, trying to force enthusiasm into her voice.

“It’s got the best time, output and range,” Abby continues. “I heard that someone once shot a kid in the eye with one and it removed the eye.”

“I really really doubt that,” Dina says. “Regardless, when you do get it, please do not shoot each other in the face.”

“We won’t,” Ellie smiles.

“Redemption will never be as sweet,” Abby whispers to herself, still gazing up at the water gun.

--

They get it by the Thursday, lugging in several backpacks of tickets for Dina to look at.

“We’ve come for redemption,” Abby says in a gravelly voice, her expression only serious for a moment before it cracks and she’s grinning dopily.

Counting the tickets was a chore and Dina didn’t do it as closely as she probably should have, trusting Abby’s count considering how meticulously ordered and bound the tickets were in sets of 250.

When Dina finally hands it over, Abby hugs the gun tightly to her chest. Dina’s mildly concern that Abby might kiss it.

Ellie and Abby’s jaws drop when Dina takes another identical water gun out from under the counter and places it back on the top shelf.

“There’s another-” Ellie says, eyes wide.

“I want it,” Abby whispers.

“Abby, we can’t-” Ellie tries.

“I want it,” Abby says wistfully. “We can totally get it.”

“We cannot,” Ellie protests.

“Think of how powerful we’ll be,” Abby says, bouncing on her feet a little like she’s torn between running off to play with the water gun or to go back to one of the arcade machines.

“I just don’t get it,” Dina mutters to herself.

--

It takes a week until they show up again; she talks to Ellie at times at school, but they don’t share lunch period and it’s not the same.

Her shifts feel longer, the kids seem more annoying and her homework seems to make less sense.

Their arrival makes her disproportionately happy, beaming at them as they come over to the counter to make change.

“I see you still have both eyes, Abby,” Dina says almost affectionately. “Did it live up to all your hopes and dreams?”

“It really did,” Abby says giddily, her eyes sparkling. “We’re gonna get his brother now, I think.”

Dina grins. “By the way, we just got in Mortal Kombat 4.”

“Finally!” Abby yells, smacking the counter before stalking away.

“I like her,” Dina says to Ellie.

“She’s pretty great,” Ellie sighs. There’s a beat of silence before them before Ellie’s peers over the counter. “How’s your homework treating you?”

Dina groans.

“That bad?” Ellie asks, looking apologetic for asking.

“Math is just not my thing,” Dina says, dropping her face into her hands.

“Can I help?” Ellie asks earnestly.

--

It’s later that night when it happens.

They spend an hour looking through the work, Ellie sitting with Dina behind the counter as she works through a handful of example questions in a crooked handwriting.

And it slowly clicks.

Dina’s almost giddy with relief as she understands. “God, I’m so glad we’re friends now,” Dina says honestly.

“Me too,” Ellie smiles softly, her eyes crinkling.

“You know what’s funny?” Dina asks, unable to stop herself.

“What?”  

“It’s funny but I had a huge crush on you like two years ago,” she admits.

Ellie’s jaw drops. “Really?”

Dina nods sheepishly.

“Wait, really? Two years ago?” Ellie asks pressingly.

“Yeah,” Dina flushes.

Ellie swears, smacking the table in front of her and pacing in the small space.

“What?”

“I had a crush on you two years ago,” Ellie groans, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Dina curses, her head in her hands.

“I know,” Ellie sighs.

“Fuuuuck.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Dina asks, looking up to question Ellie.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ellie repeats anxiously.

They stare at each other almost angrily in their frustration, tense and regretful. Dina can’t blame her for not saying anything and she knows it.

Two years of what ifs between them.

“You good?”

They both startle, jumping in their skin to turn and find Abby on the other side of the counter, glancing between them and chewing gum lazily.

“She had a crush on me two years ago,” Ellie laments, the words rushing out all at once.

“Okay,” Abby says, blowing a bubble and popping it before continuing. “But like, she still likes you, so what’s the issue?”

Dina has never hated her more.

“I- Abby you-” Ellie stammers, looking angrily at Abby before turning to Dina. “I- I mean, do you?”

Dina swallows before nodding awkwardly.

Ellie looks elated, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly with restless energy like Abby the week prior. “Do you, uh, do you wanna go on a-?” She clears her throat. “Can I take- Can I please take you on a date? Would you-”

Dina reaches out to stop her, taking Ellie’s hand gently in hers. “I would love to go on a date with you,” she says sincerely, her cheeks are burning, and she knows she’s probably blushing just as much as Ellie.

They smile at each other eagerly, thrumming with excitement and giddy with affection.

“So like,” Abby interrupts. “Can I get some more quarters, though?”

 (Ellie has baseball practice after school the next day. Dina has the night off work, so she sits in the stands, her homework open and ignored in her lap. They go to a diner for burgers and fries afterwards, holding hands across the table, and they have their first kiss that night at Dina’s front door.)

:)

[pumpkinofthedale]

So the first chapter is taking me longer than expected bc life is just being.... stressful and busy, but here is another smidge of my cronus fanfic.

He opened another door and turned on the lights.

It… looked like a sound booth with a few instruments and microphones.

“This is my music studio.” A giant, toothy smile was on his face when you looked at him. “Pops really doesn’t like my music so I do it all down here where he can’t hear it.” He looked a little sheepish, sitting down in the lone chair in the room next to a keyboard and a piano. “But this is where the Cronus Ampora magic happens… or where it would happen if magic wasn’t fake as shit. Where- Where the Cronus Ampora music happens. There we go, that’s what I meant to say.”

“Cool.” You nodded appreciatively. “Very cool.”

You were a goddamn word smith.

“Did you check out my soundcloud?” He asked hopefully.

Oh crap….

“Yes, yes I did check out your soundcloud.” You said with what you hoped was a straight face.

“What’d you think?” He looked excited, but let out a nervous chuckle. “No one I know takes the time out to actually listen to it so I don’t get to ask much.”

“Uhhhh….” You racked your brain for something to say about it other than, “It was very sexual.” Shit… you really said that out loud didn’t you.

Cronus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the point. Popular music is usually about love or sex, something like ninety-ish percent of the top billboard songs are about sex. Sex sells. People like sex. And let’s be real… that’s kind of my whole deal, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”  

You honestly didn’t know how to respond to that. Sure… a lot of songs on the radio had sexual themes… but…. “Did you… Did you actually research that? Is that an actual fact or like… something you’re guessing at?”

“No, it’s featured in about sixty percent of top hits on Alternia, but if you look at the whole quadrant system, that’s in about ninety five percent of top hits. And I wanted to see what sort of musical themes made up human music too…. You guys are at about ninety percent about erotic love themes in your most popular music.” He sort of shrugged, but waggled his eyebrows when your eyes met. “What can I say… It’s a compelling subject. And if you ever want a course in alien anatomy, kitten, you know I’m willin’ to tea–”

“What did I say about dialing the horniness back.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Fiiine. But even you have to admit you basically set yourself up for that one.”

“Committed and happy relationship.” You leaned against the wall, noting that there was still some eggnog in your mug (and here you had thought that it’d all spilled on you when you fell). “So, I see a keyboard, a piano, a guitar… how many instruments can you play?”

Cronus began mumbling, counting on his fingers, “Including the human ones I learned, like five? I think? Six if you count the synth.”

Holy shit.

“Holy shit. So you’re like… actually talented. I suppose you had to have some redeeming qualities other than just being pretty.” He squinted, and you amended, “Wow, that sounded a lot ruder than intended. I meant that that’s baller dude. That’s a lot of instruments and I’m very impressed.”

He flushed a little bit more, pleased grin showing off those shark teeth. He set the hot toddy on the top of the piano as he situated himself at his keyboard. “Do you wanna hear what I’m currently working on?”

Oh yay…. More alien sex music…. Fantastic.

But he was being so tolerable and open and crushing his music dreams on Christmas felt so wrong that you couldn’t help but manage a “sure, why the hell not?”

Cronus positively beamed, and his voice was so pretty, and the composition was decent, but the lyrics were just such garbage…. You made a game for yourself by counting the use of the word bulge… He’d said it over twenty times in a four minute period.

“And then the end is gonna go like this: Bulge, bulge, yank my bulge like you mean it.” He finished, looking over at you expectantly. Twenty three.

You tried to give him an encouraging smile, but you were pretty sure it looked like a grimace…. “How married are you to those lyrics?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Like… how attached to those lyrics are you? They’re kind of….” You racked your brain for a good way to word it. “Sub-optimal.”

His face fell. “Oh….”

“It just didn’t feel… genuine? Like it felt performative even for a song.” Geez, you were really doing this weren’t you. Your department head had accused you of being too blunt on multiple occasions, and here you were proving him right. “Music wise, it was fun, and your voice is very nice…. But the lyrics seem forced. You already have a bajillion songs about sex, isn’t there anything else you want to sing about? Maybe express a genuine emotion? Like when you look at a flower or something, how does that make you feel? Or like when you’re staring up at the stars at night contemplating existence, or even- even your favorite food. Haven’t you ever tried to sing about those things instead? Or to tell a story?”

“Like… music can be such a magical medium. It’s so versatile, and you have so much potential if you’d just… I dunno, explore some more of that versatility, and get yourself out of that sexual lyrics only mindset.”  

Cronus regarded you with a mixture of concern, disbelief, and what you really hoped was thoughtfulness. “Magic is fake as shit…. But I’ll… I’ll think about it. Maybe.”

He leaned back, expression relatively neutral as he looked you up and down (making you feel less uncomfortable than usual). “So, got any requests? More of that crispmas music?”

You shrugged, “I guess whatever you feel like playing? Although I’m really not feeling the whole eros thing right now so like…. I dunno.”

You were so fucking eloquent.

“C’mon, you always have strong opinions. Always.”  

“Damn, B, that’s a lot of pressure to put on a bitch.” You replied, sliding down the wall to the floor. “Play me your prettiest non-sexual song.”

He just laughed. “Babe, all songs are sexual. Even if they don’t sound like they are, I can guarantee they’re about sex. Everything people do is about sex.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded by the coldest take you’d ever heard spoken aloud. Sure, you’d heard the argument before (usually by crusty old white authors), but you never thought anyone ever believed them.

“Is it though? Like this, right here. I’m here trying to be your friend in a non-sexual capacity, and my following you down here was not motivated by sex other than maybe the desire not to have sex with you… because I don’t know if you’ve picked up on many of the incredibly subtle hints I’ve been leaving for you like a little crumb trail, I don’t want to have sex with you. Period.”

Cronus pouted a little. “Okay, valid. Mean, but valid.”

You snorted, “That’s hardly the meanest thing I’ve said to you even tonight.”

“That’s very true. You’re very mean to me.” He batted his eyelashes at you.

[julilentille]

Hi everyone,

It seems like HS2 will be soon upon us, so I though it would be a good time to reflect on all of those HS1 songs that accompanied me for 2 years now. So here are my thoughts on each songs under the cut. UO and all. (Please don’t kill me 😝)

MMITHW: It’s how you open an album and make a splash with the first track of your first solo record. One of my favorite songs of the album. I like the « not quite there» quality of the vocal track. It seems like it was recorded under water and give MMITHW a floaty, old but still modern spin to the song. It’s a « listen to it on vinyl and lay on the floor » sort of song for me. My favorite kind 😊. It would probably be higher in my inner HS1 ranking with a more predominant bass. I never give the lyrics too much thoughts if I’m quite honest. 

SOTT: You never forget your first time. And I will never forget the first time I heard Harry and SOTT. How can I be objective? But I will try. Quite a shocker on first listen. Perfect intro and perfect finish that redeem the lengthy middle. It’s a slow burn that one and the gift of Harry’s high note at the end makes me forget about me waiting for it. It should be said I love that song 💕. She is perfect when listening to the album as a whole and live she becomes alive thank to Harry’s energy. It just cancels what was said about the lengthy middle.

Carolina: Oh Carolina I liked you once upon a time, before the lyrics « she’s a good girl » got in my little French brain. Fun tune. I just can’t go pass the good girl. Sorry 🤷‍♀️. I would castrate any men who would call me a good girl, even H.

Two ghosts: I like the studio version. But I absolutely love all live versions with a fiery passion. The spotify single, the Late Late performance (Oh my god that falsetto part 😭 And its fragility).

But above all the Late Late London roof one. («We don’t say what we really mean» part). Anyway, please send my way any live performances of two ghosts.

Sweet creature: It’s pretty simple song but who says you can’t find beauty in simplicity. Blackbird anyone? I love the song’s lyrics. They always make me think of my sister. I really hope she still be on next tour setlist. It’s a song that makes me emotional and those are always the best ones.

Only Angel: Perfect beginning. We can find again the atmosphere of MMITHW in here. The question I would want to ask to Harry would be: Was he thinking about vinyl listeners that would need an intro to face B? And then, I’m pretty indifferent to the rest. Some cliché lyrics that I don’t care about but I’m still listening to it a lot because my nephew loves the hoo hoo and we sing and dance on this tunes together.

Kiwi: Ahh kiwi kiwi kiwi. Still cliché lyrics but the most important for me is the music. The fun of the song just prevails. I want to jump when listening to it. I want to shout it live. Harry has the time of his life performing it and I have the time of my life listening to it. «Best arctic monkeys’ song of the last few years » 😬

ESNY: Most underrated song on HS1 if you ask me. She never cited as anyone favorite but it’s definitely one of mine. I love the lyrics so much. I will not quote one part because I would want to quote the entire song. I love this song.

Women: quack 🤷‍♀️

FTDT: 😔 My favorite because the song is beautiful but also because it’s quite a personal song for me. It’s a very intimate song in the lyrics and in its delivery. You can hear every breaths Harry takes. You can almost imagine him whispering that song in your ears. The multiple track voices are perfect (it is how it’s called?). You can also hear the guitar breathing and by that I mean you can hear the fingers working on the strings and the neck of the guitar. And my favorite part: the hope soaring in his voice and the strings in the «maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too» moment. And it being destroyed with the «but you never do». All of this being mirrored in the music.

[notbang]

that cat’s something i can’t explain

read on ao3

1.

“Rebecca,” Nathaniel says in surprise when he spots his girlfriend weaving through the Mountaintop lobby, flour-dusted apron and all, making a very determined beeline in his general direction. “What’s going on?”

As soon as he says the words, he expects her haughtiness—an affronted why can’t a humble pretzel maker visit her lawyer lover on the top floor, perhaps, or something equally colourful. The closer she gets, though, he can see she’s vibrating with something other than deliberately cloying indignation.

“What’s going on,” she says emphatically, dropping her phone on the front desk with enough force that its momentum slides it towards him, “is that if I had to be subjected to this monstrosity, then so you do you.”

He stops the phone before it can ricochet off the edge of the counter, eyebrows raised as he unlocks the screen.

“Now that we know a love of the theatrical arts is something which we both share—”

“Wouldn’t say ‘love’,” Nathaniel interjects.

“—we can have these very important cultural discussions together.”

He makes it approximately twenty seconds into the video before he turns it off.

This isn’t the first time he’s found himself completely miffed by one of Rebecca’s outbursts, but even in his bemusement it’d be disingenuous of him to paint it as one of her qualities he considers skewed towards the negative. There’s always been something so captivating in the way her feelings tend to command the entirety of her tiny frame, expressing endlessly outwards, always making her seem so much more than what she is.

Still, he’s at a loss for what to offer her in return for her obvious discontent, and he settles for stating the obvious, well aware she’ll hand him precisely the response she was looking for soon enough.

“Don’t see it?” he offers, tone tentative and polite.

Predictably, she scoffs at him, jabbing two accusing pointer fingers in his direction. “Ha. Don’t see it. I wasn’t planning on it, was I? But then they had to go and make it terrible, which is how they reel you in! And not just plain old terrible, either—it’s, like, the uncanny valley, haunt-your-dreams kind of terrible that cancels out how terrible the source material already is, because that’s how negative integers work, for some reason, and now it’s like this… furry train wreck I can’t look away from,” she finishes, gesticulating wildly and scrunching up her hands into frustrated little cat claws.

“Did Nathaniel finally admit he’s a furry?” Maya whispers with conspiratorial glee, popping up unannounced on Rebecca’s immediate left.

“Ugh, Maya, go away,” she groans.

“You don’t work here anymore—you can’t just boss people around,” Nathaniel says, before straightening his shoulders and adding pointedly, “Maya, go away. Please.”

Rebecca raises her eyebrows as the office assistant pushes her glasses up her nose, pouts and scampers away. She leans across the desk to give him a blatant up-and-down. “Wow, look at you—dolling out pleases like you’re Oprah or something. So cordial, yet commanding. It’s kind of sexy, in a Miss Manners kind of way.”

“Don’t you have a storefront you should be manning?”

“I’d be able to hear the fire alarm from here,” she defends, then pushes up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his right cheek. Nathaniel pauses in his photocopying, ears pinking, then reciprocates with a brief press of his open palm to the small of her back.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he calls after her, but he’s certain she doesn’t hear him, already having summoned Maya back, strangely intent on correcting her opinions on something involving, if he’s heard correctly, Taylor Swift.

2.

When he makes his way down the hall back to her bedroom, still towelling his hair, there’s a message notification waiting on his phone from Rebecca.

“What is this?” he asks, waving his screen at her.

She doesn’t even glance up from the novel she’s reading, a stray lock of her hair looping around her finger in an absent spiral. He watches the movement for a moment, transfixed, until she disengages the curl to flick the page over and finally responds. “It’s Hermione after she messes up her Polyjuice potion in Chamber of Secrets. Obviously.”

“Okay.” Then, after a beat, “Why am I looking at it?”

“Because Paula doesn’t understand musicals or Harry Potter or memes, so it had to go to you by default.”

“Do you understand memes?”

“Plus,” she says, ignoring him, “you’re, like, romantically obligated to find every message I send you entertaining.”

He plugs his phone into charge before joining her on the bed, shuffling as high up on the pillows as he can manage to keep his toes from skimming the end of the mattress when he stretches out. It’s not entirely successful, but if he bends at the knees a little and curls on his side, he knows from past experience he can make it work.

“Am I, just. Even the ones composed entirely of emojis?”

She grins. “Especially the ones composed entirely of emojis.”

Rebecca ditches her paperback in favour of wriggling into his warmth, murmuring her contentment when he slips an arm around her waist to draw her close and drop a chaste kiss onto the crown of her head. Her hair’s still damp and smells vaguely floral, like her shampoo, and he lets his lips linger there, breathing her in.

His phone vibrates twice on the nightstand.

When pulls back to peer down his nose at her, she’s not-so-subtle in her attempt to conceal what she’s cradling innocently between their chests. He sighs, feigning exasperation. “You just sent me a cat emoji, didn’t you?”

“I absolutely did not,” she says solemnly, then, dissolving into laughter under his scrutiny, confesses, “It was more like five. And I think maybe a llama by mistake?”

3.

“It’s like they didn’t even try,” Rebecca announces loudly in the vicinity of Nathaniel’s ear, rudely jerking him back from the precipice of sleep.

“Oh good,” he sighs, blinking his eyebrows higher up his forehead in the darkness. “This again.”

He grunts out his disapproval as the bedside lamp clicks back on, casting half the apartment in dramatic shadow as it burns his retinas with its unexpected blinding light.

“And I’m just saying,” Rebecca continues, oblivious or in the very least unconcerned with his state of obvious discomfort, apparently immune to any such adjustment period of her own, “did anyone consult TS Eliot before reinventing his heartfelt poetry as a vaginal yeast infection in musical form?”

Nathaniel’s nose wrinkles to match the pre-existing scrunch of his face. “What?”

“Never mind, it was a whole a thing. My point is, no film is an island unto itself. People signed off on this. Multiple people looked at those designs and said, you know what’s gonna add a layer of appeal to a musical that already has no plot? Stripping it of its one redeeming feature—AKA the crazy 80s hair—and replacing it with horrifying, humanoid heads that somehow manage to look furry and bald at the same time.”

Even if Nathaniel felt remotely qualified to comment on the topic—which, for the record, oddly flattered though he is at Rebecca’s pervasive belief that he might be, he decidedly is not—it’s late, it’s a weeknight, and he really just wants to sleep.

“If you hate it so much, rewrite it,” he says before pointedly rolling away from her with a yawn and yanking the covers up over his shoulders.

She follows him, flicking him hard in the back of the neck where his nape’s still exposed above the blanket. “Not cute, dude. You don’t get points for that one anymore. And you can’t ‘rewrite’ CGI. Even if you could, a thousand rewrites isn’t gonna change the eyesore that I—nay, humankind—have been subjected to.”

Nathaniel buries his face in the pillow and groans something that resembles her name before it gets jumbled in its muffled pass through the cotton.

“Rebecca,” he says once he’s resurfaced, trying again, tone still undeniably clipped as he scrubs a palm across his face. “I have a deposition first thing tomorrow. Do we really need to have this conversation now?”

She wilts visibly, chagrined, eyes flicking to the clock at his bedside that may as well have ABSURDLY LATE splashed across its interface in red LEDs. “Sorry,” she says meekly, officially rebuked, sinking back into the sheets and switching off the lamp.

The room is blissfully silent save for the collective electronic hum of his appliances, but despite the stillness, Nathaniel finds himself unable to drift back off. Without opening his eyes he pats around beside him until his fingers connect with the phone he’d known with every fibre of his being she was still holding, confiscating and discarding on his nightstand, out of reach.

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“I was just—”

“Sleep,” he repeats, voice gruff with exhaustion, enfolding her firmly in his arms as a preventative measure, practically able to hear her calculating the device’s retrieval in the dark.

4.

“What are we dealing with, here? Minor song lyric alteration? Beloved song exclusion? Reinforced misogyny? Racially insensitive miscast?”

Nathaniel startles at the sound of the door opening, Paula spilling into Rebecca’s house like she lives there and depositing her bags in the entryway with a dramatic thud.

Rebecca, by comparison, is unperturbed by the intrusion, swivelling on a breakfast stool to look at her friend and shake her head. “We’re not talking misdemeanours here, Paula. We’re talking big league. Like, DEFCON-5.”

“Oh,” Paula says. She clucks in feigned sympathy and shoots a knowing glance in Nathaniel’s direction. “This is about the singing cats, huh.”

Even focused as he is on rinsing out her blender, he doesn’t miss the way Rebecca shrinks guiltily away from him in his periphery.

“Did you call an early morning emergency meeting of your girl mob to discuss a movie trailer you didn’t like?” he asks, careful to keep his tone light.

“It’s gurl group, but you know that, and no—Valencia is in town for her sister’s birthday and Heather’s working at this Home Base today and Paula’s new job means she has to like, actually do work now, so breakfast is the only time all of us were free.”

As if on cue, Heather and Valencia sidle through the open doorway.

“Oh, he’s here?” Heather drawls with an exaggerated grimace when she spots Nathaniel. “Looks like you’ve already found someone to rant about your dumb movie to, so I’m gonna just—”

Her attempt to pivot on the spot and leave is thwarted by the arm Valencia loops through her own, catching her before she can re-cross the threshold.

Nathaniel wastes no time in whipping his head around to aim an aha look in Rebecca’s direction, and she’s just as quick to defend, “Yeah, okay, so it’s on the agenda. Amongst other things.”

“Is that so. Like what?”

“Like… topics I don’t know about yet because nobody ever responds to my requests to send me their items for the agenda.”

“God, no more agendas,” Paula grouches, reaching for a mug from the overhead cabinet. “Or meetings. My entire life is meetings and agendas and scheduling conflicts. Can’t we just have a good old fashioned rendezvous? I feel like nobody ever rendezvouses anymore.”

“Ooh, or how about a tryst,” Rebecca suggests, waggling her eyebrows.

“Girl, you know I love you,” Valencia says, “but I’m not trysting with you. I have a fiancée.”

Heather hums, drumming her fingers against the countertop as she hoists herself up onto a stool. “So full disclosure, Hector and I saw the Cats revival with his mom last year, and I liked it. I think the lack of plot worked in Hector’s favour.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Rebecca says, wistful.

“You liked The Lion King,” Nathaniel feels obligated to point out. “That’s technically about digitally rendered singing cats.”

“I tolerated The Lion King because of my deep fondness of the original and because I knew I could bully you into seeing it with me because of its zoological themes,” she corrects. “Anyway, that remake’s issue was that it had no soul. This remake’s issue is that it’s, like, demonically possessed, or something. Which, to be fair, cats, as a species, generally are.”

“Rebecca,” Valencia begins, voice all saccharine and scathing, “need I remind you of one of the many occasions you broke up with this one—” She jabs a thumb in Nathaniel’s face, making him frown. “—with the intention of adopting an entire shelter’s worth of felines?”

“That was a different time,” Rebecca dismisses. “I was punishing a version of myself I wasn’t proud of by resigning her to the fate I believed she deserved.”

Nathaniel tilts his head, bemused. “Huh?”

“Oh, she wanted to be a crazy cat lady,” Heather translates, enunciating loudly, “because she couldn’t bone you in the stationery closet without feeling bummed about it anymore. Just, like. While we’re on the subject of trysts.”

“Heath-er,” Rebecca hisses, kicking her ex-housemate in the shin.

Parsing their less than stellar communal romantic track record with a group of women all too happy to gang up on him afforded the slightest opportunity isn’t high on Nathaniel’s to-do list for the morning, and a flick of his wrist to check his smart watch is all the excuse he needs to make a timely escape.

“On that note,” Nathaniel says, snatching his car keys off the counter, “I’m going to leave you ladies be.”

The conversation barely dips as he sees himself out.

5.

“So in between your being typecast as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, you didn’t happen to don, say, a unitard and leg warmers, did you?”

“What?”

He knows he should be used to this by now—this tendency towards unexpected tack-changing that he’d liken to a dog with a bone, if the cliche didn’t feel somewhat inapt, considering. It’s not like he’s unaccustomed, after all this this time, to Rebecca’s one track mind. It’s just that up until this point, most of the tracks she’s been fixated on treading have usually, admittedly, served his own interests as easily as her own.

“Just checking, because for the record, it’s kind of a massive deal breaker for me.”

She flops into his side, not entirely-unpleasantly sticky, or in the very least, skin virtually indistinguishable from the slick of his own. Rebecca’s ability to pick up intelligible conversation immediately post-coitus is a talent he does not share, and as the golden fog of afterglow suffuses through his bloodstream he takes his time meandering back towards the realm where articulation is possible, content in the knowledge his bedmate will happily barrel on without him until he catches up.

“Just kidding,” she seems to feel the need to clarify, even in the absence of any protest on his behalf. “The knowledge that you were a theatre kid is such an aphrodisiac to me that it well and truly trumps any potential feline faux pas.”

“Wasn’t a theatre kid,” he corrects, the response so automatic he’s not sure it counts as cognitive function.

“Agree to disagree,” Rebecca says, earning herself an exasperated sigh.

Once the drumbeat of his pulse has slowed in his ears, he cracks an eyelid, suspicious of the lack of movement and sudden cease in chatter from the woman sprawled out across his upper torso. Rebecca’s gazing up at him as if she’s been patiently awaiting his full attention, chin resting on her stacked hands, a lazy, satisfied smile stretched across her features.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate Cats,” Nathaniel tells her with amusement after stretching to peck her on the mouth, “you kind of talk about Cats a lot. Some might even describe you as off-puttingly passionate on the subject. Not me,” he backtracks at her incredulous glare, tucking her hair behind her ear with affection. “I find your aggressive diatribe charming.”

Suitably placated, she drops her head back down against his shoulder. “They do say there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

He skates his hand down the bare expanse of her back, letting it settle in the dip between her hips. She undulates with the caress, thighs parting and sliding to bracket one of his. If she’s gunning for a second round he’s still got his refractory period to contend with, but there’s always other ways to keep her occupied, his loose-limbed lack of focus notwithstanding.

She doesn’t push it any further, though, apparently content for now in her own come-down, and he’s just about to give in to the pull towards sleep when it occurs to him what he’s neglected to ask.

“Did you?”

Rebecca’s even breaths, which up until now have been fanning rhythmically across the damp of his throat, catch and falter enough that he takes note of their telling absence.

“Hmm? Did I what?” she deflects, and his eyes narrow at the way she doubles down on the suggestive patterns she seems intent on tracing across his pectorals.

Determined not to be swayed, he shifts beneath her, laughter rumbling through him and muscle mass quaking like tectonic plates beneath the surface of his skin. “Oh, you so did,” he grins, pleased to have been on the money with his flicker of suspicion, eager to bask, as always, in any correct insight he’s managed to garner into his girlfriend’s endlessly multi-faceted brain. “This whole time there’s been incriminating photos of you somewhere wearing tacky fake-fur and an unseemly wig. There’s no hiding your shameful history, now—the cat is out of the bag.”

Rebecca smacks him on the chest, unimpressed, and he can see every telltale corner of her mouth at which the scowl fails to conceal the twitches of her laughter. “So what if my vendetta is somewhat rooted in past trauma? It doesn’t change basic fact, which is that the mere existence of Cats—animal, musical or movie—is a plague against mankind. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t need the wig—my early adolescent frizz was unseemly enough all on its own.”

Where late-night exhaustion-fuelled irritation existed only a few evenings prior, Nathaniel finds himself suddenly capable of only overwhelming fondness. “I think you would have made a very fearsome cat,” he tells her seriously. “All feisty, and nimble.”

He takes two locks of her hair, twisting them up into faux-ears on the top of her head until she bats his hands away, failing miserably at stifling her giggles.

“Stop that. You’re one adjective away from me adding myself back into the Mountaintop text chain just so I can make Maya’s week.”

“Uh-huh. Because I’m the one between us whose levels of preoccupation are concerning.”

He rolls her beneath him, nuzzling his nose against hers in an exaggerated way he can tell irritates her to no end given the context, but muscle memory wins out and she melts into it, the frown lines easing from her forehead as she moulds her mouth against his.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s pressing insistently against him, appetite predictably reawakened, and every sordid pun he could torture her with right now tingles at the ready on the tip of his tongue. But then she sighs into him with a kind of giddiness that sends his mind shattering into static, and as he nips and noses his way down past her belly every teasing thought disintegrates into the ether as he touches her until she’s arching, unraveling, drawing out his name in what can only be described as a delighted purr.

[jefferyryanlong]

Fresh Listen - Lovehandles, Seafoam on Speakerphone (2010) 

(Some pieces of recorded music operate more like organisms than records. They live, they breathe, they reproduce. Fresh Listen is a periodic review of recently and not-so-recently released albums that crawl among us like radioactive spiders, gifting us with superpowers from their stingers.)

Sometimes the best songs say less about the convictions of the singer, and more about the secret wish that burns in the singer’s heart.

I think of Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s a Gonna Fall.” If you pierce through the trappings of the hoary soothsayer, the prophecy he raps, and yodels for emphasis, is meant to be instructive, not necessarily foretold. “I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it”; “I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it”; “I saw a roomful of men with their hammers a-bleedin’.” Throughout the song, you can hear the naked hope that events might lead to a more promising outcome if we pay attention, apply the symbology to the reality. “Hard Rain” is a warning, but it isn’t meant as a death sentence.

You can hear the same wish in the first track of Lovehandles’s first and only collection of songs arranged as a full-length record, Seafoam on Speakerphone. Under the auspices of his musical alter-ego, Tommy Yasuhara sings, on “Do What’s Natural,” “if you hold my hand you’ll understand / it’s all part of a plan.” At first listen, it may seem that Tommy is attributing the mostly misremembered episodes of a life to a predestined narrative conceived by a higher power. As a songwriter, though, Tommy is too interested in the ambiguity of existence to propose thoughtlessly surrendering to ideology. “Do What’s Natural” is surely a leap of faith, but, in very elemental terms, it simply illustrates the minor miracles inherent in living: fresh fruit flesh, hot cocoa in a warm room while the snow builds up on the windowpane. What’s important is that conscious action is required of us—the exercise of agency—to complement any experience. To live requires participation, not surrender.

“Do What’s Natural” initiates a kind of sonic continuity on Seafoam on Speakerphone. Reminiscent of Smog’s A River Ain’t Too Much to Love in the minimalism of its arrangements—mostly an exuberantly strummed baritone ukulele with ad hoc percussion (drums and machines, handclaps) and the occasional keyboard, kazoo, or recorder for coloring. Seafoam also carries forward Smog / Bill Callahan’s penchant for humor and deep reflections with an economy of words—some of which may first seem superficial—conveying big messages.

Contrasted to Callahan’s deep-earth baritone is Tommy’s equally resonant tenor, one of the sweetest set of pipes ever to be downloaded onto MySpace. Tommy effortlessly activates his vocal cords toward yearning soulfulness, deadpan bemusement, and punk-rock outrage, sometimes within the same song.

But one of the greatest songs on Seafoam is the record’s last track (also on the SoftSpots bandcamp sampler), an instrumental called “Lost Dog.” Tommy’s voice here is replaced by a four-note whistle, which appears only at the beginning and the end of the song. In-between is a finger-picked odyssey of masterful repetition and subtle variation. These snuck-in notes may be calculated in the abstract, but they come across on “Lost Dog” as improvisatory and inspired. At the risk of overstatement, the song is a compositional and technical achievement, not only in the context of Seafoam, but the as part of the entire Lovehandles catalog (of which there are literally hundreds of songs, most of them criminally unavailable). “Lost Dog” is a Fahey-esque guitar piece that doesn’t simply ape the master—it expands the emotional potentialities of the form.

Age and growth are the subjects of “Holiday on the Holodeck,” in which Tommy imagines the perfect celebration with friends and family across multiple time periods and places, getting nearer to the essence of the past as he moves farther away from it. Unfortunately, he’s unable to successfully replicate his idealized surroundings, nor the people that inhabit his fantasy space: “I couldn’t program it,” he chants at the end, coming to grips with the impossibility of his wish.

Instrumentally, “Asian Superstore” is the fullest track on Seafoam, with busy bongos competing with a syncopated marimba, and a single maraca holding the beat together. True to its title, the song is a celebration of the family-owned food mart and its superiority over the supermarkets and price clubs that are in a constant state of being built in every neighborhood. This kind of subject matter is exactly Tommy’s cup of meat. As an artist, his point is to ensure listeners take notice of the normally overlooked treasures of our American lives.

“Ladder on Wheels” is a pointless thought experiment, partially redeemed by a brief recorder solo near the end. Tommy goes toward raw Impressionism in “Hot Water,” a meditative sketch on the potential end of a relationship. The gentle rap of the cymbals recreates the stream of water and doubt that can fall upon one in isolation.

“My Little Cuckoo” is the first of Seafoam’s “avian trilogy.” A trifle of a song, “My Little Cuckoo” describes how a kind of strangeness can be the defining characteristic of an object of affection. Rockabilly punk, accented by an energetic and open hi-hat, fuels “Chicks Through the Grinder,” a commentary on the industrialized food sourcing that devalues the animals we eat and dehumanizes us as consumers in the process. Despite the heaviness of the lyrics, “Chicks Through the Grinder” is a fast, fun song—I can’t recall the numbers “six” and “seven” being expressed with such significance and intensity, since Black Francis laid down his vocal in the Pixies’s “Monkey Gone to Heaven.”

Closing out the “avian trilogy” is “No One’s Ever Innocent,” a contemplation of human capitalizing and exploiting, in seemingly harmless ways, the environment. In this case, a hummingbird feeder when winter hardens the sugar water: “Everything that we’re doin’ / somehow causes ruin / even when it’s not what we meant.” Over the course of just a few minutes, the song evolves into a metaphor on relationships, the harm we do to others when we attract them and try to keep them around. By eliminating the freedom that drew us to someone in the first place, we end up killing the core of the inspiration for our love.

On its surface, “Stay Home,” near the end of the record, espouses domestic tranquility. In the context of “Hot Water,” though, (a repeated “am I leaving you?”) and “No One’s Ever Innocent’s” zen-like expression of human-animal and human-human relationships, “Stay Home” resounds more like a deep-seated hope than a literal depiction, somewhat too rosy, of things as they truly are.

Which reinforces the strongest message of Seafoam on Speakerphone: that hopes, desires, and all the things around us that are in our possession and are forever beyond our possession require our attention, and with that, care, effort, and struggle, so that they can glow with true worth and possibility. These small components that sum up to a life—to make them real, Tommy, or Lovehandles, asks us to open our hearts. When we work at these moments of realization and visceral pleasure and doubt and confusion and pain, we might, despite falling short at times, have a short glimpse at meaning. And maybe even make it through okay.    

[stardustmovement]

I HEAR YOU'RE ACCEPTING ASKS (Strong power thank you) IF SOOOOOOOO How would all of the second year Starmyu boys be like as Kpop idols?

STRONG POWER THANK YOU TO YOU TOO BEAUTIFUL PERSON

Thank you for sending in the ask~ AND YES I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO ANSWER THIS SO BAD. Take note, the use of “rude” and “disrespectful” is a term for most Kpop fans to relate when the idol does something sexily provoking. 

So here’s a list of what I think:

Hoshitani YutaThe boy is more of a main dancer if you ask me, but he’s a singer with a unique voice that’s always recognizable no matter what even if he’s lacking of lines. The mood maker of the group and the clumsy one off-stage, but is a very charismatic and energetic DISRESPECFUL AS HECK dancer with sharp movements on-stage. Ocassionally raps in some songs. IS A GODDAMN HAPPY GOOFBALL WHO BEFRIENDS EVERYONE–

Nayuki Toru

A PRECIOUS SMOL. Nayuki’s fluffy appearance and soft features makes him one of the more stunning visuals of the group, plus Ono Kensho’s cuter voice suits him so much! He would be one of the vocalists, with a good range from soft and sweet to a harder tone of voice. The mom of the group who takes care and cooks for his members. THE FLUFFIEST HUMAN ALIVE, PERIOD. Also A SECRETLY SAVAGE SMOL–

Tengenji Kakeru

He may not look it (or does he–), but Tengenji is a rapper. Oh yes, our kabuki king is the kind of rapper who hypes up the song to give it momentum. HAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL RICH SINGING VOICE FITE ME and is the type to be the center of a lot of songs. And can we talk about his VISUALS? Out of the world. Is the dorkiest fluffball off-stage, but his on-stage persona is the danger zone if you know what I mean WELP–

Tsukigami Kaito

My best boy right here is a main dancer, hands down. Like, HAVE YOU SEEN HOW FLEXIBLE HE IS IN THE ANIME? Kaito is also the type to participate in making choreography and song composing, mostly choreo but still contributes a lot to composing. A vocalist who can sing complex ranges no problem, overall an all-rounder. Also the sassy member of the group and laughs at lame jokes. A PART OF MANY SHIPS.

Kuga Shuu

Definitely a rapper, a lead rapper at that. A rapper who raps from his heart with passion. Owns a notebook containing rap lyric drafts. Kuga also has a distinctive voice that stands out no matter what AND A DEEPASS VOICE AT THAT WOWIE– Very much like his anime self, Kuga is the quiet member of the group who’s usually in his own world (and the center of emo memes ahem–) but IS SOFT FOR HIS MEMBERS. Also has a soothing singing voice (auditioned to be a vocalist before he became a rapper).

Tatsumi Rui

The beauty and grace of the group, a.k.a VISUAL PRINCE. A graceful lead dancer whose movements are ABSOLUTELY magical, almost like a ballerina but not at the same time (am I making sense? Nope–). Has a voice of a LITERAL ANGEL. Those who were graced with Tatsumi Rui’s presence are said to have died peacefully to his shining beauty, but there are those who lived and survived THIS DISRESPECTFUL ordeal to tell this story (that’s me). HOWEVER, when the situation calls for it, this mofo can flip his switch if yanno what I mean *wink wonk*

Sawatari Eigo

If “elegance” was a person, it would be Sawatari Eigo. Believe it or not, THIS BOY IS A MAIN VOCALIST. MAIN. VOCALIST. A tenor, has the best vocals in regards to technique but he tends to hold back a lot due to not wanting to overpower his own members (mainly Tatsumi). HIGH NOTE KING and participates a lot in lyrics. Looks and dresses like he’s going to meet your parents, but is actually very adventurous and indulges in good humor, making terrible puns (which Kaito actually laughs at). Also WHERE ARE THE GODDAMN EIGO GIFS–

Ugawa Akira

He’s smol and cute but is an angery smol who can kick your ass when provoked (Tengenji watch your ass–). Ugawa is surprisingly an all-rounder who is mainly a lead vocalist with a nice timbre, kinda calm and jazzy. A TALENTED SMOL who does most of the composing and lyric writing and LOVES HIS JOB IT MAKES HIM FEEL IMPORTANT. Maintains a cute and sassy image on-stage but is A STRAIGHT-OUT SAVAGE off-stage, Will beat up his members with a guitar if he needs to and tag teams ocassionally with Nayuki.

Toraishi Izumi

HO BOI. WHERE DO I EVEN START. First things first, Toraishi is the main rapper of he group with a very versatile flow which he made his own. Inserts quite A LOT of English (or Gibberish) in his raps, mainly just to sound cool (which actually works). Like all the rappers in the group, he owns a rap lyrics notebook AND HE SLEEPS WITH IT AWWWW– His on-stage persona is a confident and fiery rapper whose “fans are his girlfriends”, but off-stage HE’S SOFT AND EMOTIONAL AND CRIES EASILY WHAT A PRECIOUS DORK–

Inumine Seishirou

Practically useless in everyday situations like his anime self, but DAMN BOI HE’S THE ULTIMATE PERFORMER. Is mainly a dancer but he raps and sings AND CAN EVEN ACT WHAT IS INUMINE EVEN– so basically, the boy is a monster in the entertainment. Also known for hyping songs up along with Tengenji. The loud and noisy ULTIMATE GOOFBALL who always randomly breaks into a song off-stage, but beware of his on-stage charisma. You might regret calling Inumine the man’s best friend.

Ageha Riku

Was once an edgy singer with multiple Linkin Park covers stored away somewhere down the darkest pit of his old social media accounts (never talk about them again). But as of now, Ageha is pretty much still a vocalist, but less edgy AND IS AN EXCELLENT FREESTYLE DANCER. One minute being beauty and grace, another minute BEING VERY DISRESPECFUL LIKE CALM DOWN BOI. Ageha may look disinterested 24/7 of the time, but inside he’s the SOFTEST KINDEST SOUL EVER AND HAS THE CUTEST SMILE SAVE ME– Also part of the smol and savage group along with Nayuki and Ugawa.

Hachiya So

A beautiful AND UNDERRATED HUMAN BEING. Often overlooked, BUT HAS THE MOST GORGEOUS VOICE YOU HAVE EVER HEARD YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE. Maybe it’s because Hachiya is a kind and humble soul BUT HE’S THE OTHER MAIN VOCALIST. High Note King part 2 and is PLENTY attractive in terms of visuals. A man with various talents such as interior design FRENCH STYLE. Only downside about him, and a trait that unfortunately most people remember about is that the boy is CLUMSY AF. Ageha often has to be there for him but he does redeem himself on-stage with the RICHEST OF VOCALS. ALSO WHERE ARE THE GODDAMN HACHIYA GIFS–

Kitahara Ren

A LEGIT MODEL. A VERY stunning visual with incredible stage presence who is a singer-rapper. Has a smooth baritone voice regardless on whether he sings or raps AND HAS THE AUDACITY TO SMIRK LIKE HE’S OWNED THE WORLD– Is the member who always receives modeling requests first and flaunts any style HECK HE CAN EVEN WEAR A POTATO SACK AN STILL LOOK GOOD. Is a cocky asshole off-stage, but a good kind. Hangs out with the rapper group everytime.

Nanjo Koki

FINALLY. I would like to present to you THE RUDEST, MOST DISRESPECTFUL MOFO OF THE GROUP, NANJO FUCKING KOKI. This bizarrely beautiful mofo right here is also a singer-rapper but leans more to being a tenor. HOWEVER, his GODLY visuals stand out more if anything else and stylists always put him in low-cut outfits for this very reason (much to Ren and Tengenji’s dismay). Like Kuga, he originally auditioned to be a vocalist but got to play both positions, and MAN, HE DOES IT SO DAMN WELL. Off-stage, the boy is a smug and amused individual, always indulging in Ren and Toraishi’s catfights. AND GODDAMIT THERE AREN’T ANY NANJO GIFS OML–

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Restoration

Set Me Free - Chapter 3 (Previous Chapters)

Rated: T

Pairing: Johnny x Ash (Jash)

Chapter Summary: (Sing 2016) Ash finishes her song and begins to push forward after the painful breakup. Yet, will she ever get a chance to sing it?

Fanfiction.net

A03

"Ooh…You set it all free…" Ash finished; voice a bit raspy and heavy in her raw throat as she sang out the final words of the song. The slight echo of her apartment causing her vocalization to bounce nicely off the walls.

With the last few strums of notes played before her fingers went lax over the vibrating strings. Stretching out her hand, she sighed as she looked down at her abused paw. Digits were painfully sore; tender, reddened, and deeply indented by the metal guitar strings caused by playing almost constantly for two straight days - perhaps even longer.

Time didn't really seem to be a factor as she lost herself to her music. Spending countless hours wording and re-wording the lyrics, playing and re-playing certain chord progressions, bass lines, and adding notes that fit and removing others that didn't. Going back over it time and time again, wanting it to be just perfect; a song befitting her struggles and now her overcoming them.

The process was painfully long and arduous and frequently during the process, Ash was tempted to pull out her quills one by one and fling them into the walls to ease her frustrations. Because if she was at all honest with herself, writing her own song was much more difficult than she ever expected. Never fully realizing how certain words just didn't fit in context, not exactly rhyming but it was much more cohesive when they did. Choruses needing power and presence to not be overdone by the verses. There were aspects she never expected to tackle such as timing and figuring out a rhythm that would correlate with the message she wanted to convey.

Long story short, it was ridiculously challenging - yet, now that the hardest part was over, there was only one thing for certain -

Ash had actually written a song.

It was still in its infancy in some regards. Flitting through different scales and wordings she was still trying to work out - but it was her song.

Staring down at her red electric guitar, her mind wandered; the sensation of realizing it began washing over her like gentle, comforting waves upon a beach. A deep and satisfying sense of accomplishment she swore she never experienced before. She'd actually written a song - the feat itself was shocking and astounding and Ash was still trying to come to grips with it all. She thought of these past few days, her own emotional state faltering between anger, resentment and bouts of uncontrollable sobbing, she made it happen; precisely where it came from - she couldn't tell you.

Whether it was from sitting among the remains of her and Lance's tattered relationship in the form of multiple pictures ripped to bits and pieces at her feet or a few of his discarded clothes which she attacked with a pair of scissors and sorely tempted to char with a match if she wasn't afraid of setting her apartment building ablaze. Destroying his entire collection of guitar magazines and lame band posters stabbed with her quills, or whether the words originated from the emotional turmoil she felt toward the entire situation - she wasn't sure.

Most likely all of the above.

Creating the music was simple enough; the words were another.

At first, she tried to purposefully write them out but when that failed spectacularly, she just sat. Staring and contemplating for hours at the remains of her and Lance's relationship scattered around her. Tired of ripping up his stuff to appease her own vengeful urges, she just opened her mouth and words began filing out as if words to a song. His betrayal, her anger and pain at the unfairness of it all - they all just spilled forth and she was lucky enough to get most of them written onto her laptop before they disappeared into the abyss.

Final draft nearly completed, it began to dawn on her. Using his betrayal that was still far too fresh, the wasted time and effort for not noticing it before and how she wasn't going to let it hold her back anymore. Wasn't allotting this jerk the satisfaction of ruining her life anymore than he already accomplished.

This was her chance at redemption; to make a name for herself without him. To push through life and her future career of her own volition and talents rather than relying on his supposed musical genius.

Ash couldn't help but snort and roll her eyes at the thought.

To think how she defended Lance's "artistry" to Buster Moon; how it was everyone else who didn't understand his genius and under-appreciated talents. To realize and come to terms that for all this time how SHE was ultimately the biggest fool. The one who couldn't see him for who he really was - a smug entitled asshole who thought the world should be served to him on a silver platter.

In his own deluded mind at least.

She had been so blind to his own flaws and shortcomings and instead of trying to improve himself, he just pushed his own insecurities onto her already overburdened shoulders.

Annoyed at the sudden thoughts of him plaguing her mind, she put her guitar down to rub at her face. Exhaustion and anxiety boiling in her stomach and mind as she let out a deep breath to cleanse herself. A few rays of sunshine began prickling at the edges of her quills and fur and within seconds, she jumped as if electrocuted. Leaping for her charging cell phone and stared at the screen. Ignoring all of the missed calls and texts, she honed in on the date and time in utter panic.

"I'll see you on Friday." Buster's voice suddenly filled into her mind; body suddenly thrust into complete overdrive.

Time was running short and she needed to hurry. This was her big chance to redeem and prove herself worthy of a second chance and she did not plan on letting it slip through her fingers this time around…

Trampling through the front doors of Moon Theater, Ash ran into the last thing she expected - construction.

The center and front of the theater completely blocked off with barriers as Buster Moon, Meena, and an unfamiliar sheep were working tirelessly to set up this new stage. A vast assemblage of multiple glass panels set into the stage to create almost an aquarium effect - complete with water filling it up slowly from what she could see from her vantage point.

Frankly, it looked fairly impressive but there was no conceivable way for her to go backstage with the barriers blocking her way. The small crew looked as if the renovations were nearing its completion but the clean-up had yet to be tackled.

So lost in staring at the scene, Ash scarcely noticed when Meena meekly approached.

"H-Hey, Ash." the elephant was barely audible amongst the hammering and rushing water but she met her eyes anyway.

"What's going on here?" Ash asked; gesturing loosely to all of the construction.

"M-Mr. Moon is having a special guest so wanted a nicer backdrop for you guys to perform on. Actually, w-we've been working on it for days."

"That's cool, I guess. So,um - any idea how to get back there so I can change and practice for a bit or…?"

"Oh! Y-Yeah! Mr. Moon said he left a sign outside for you guys. F-For you to use the back entrance - you know, that one over by his office?" the elephant's hands folding nervously in front of her as she answered.

"I think I know where that door is. Uh - Thanks." Ash muttered, feeling a bit peeved at having to go the long way around, but as she turned to leave, Meena spoke out again.

"I-I don't mean to pry, b-but, are you okay? …I-I mean the other day, you just seemed really sad. N-N-Not that I noticed or anything!" large hands rose up in a placating manner and the elephant's face was slowly being engulfed by her own ears. "I-I just wanted to make sure you're alright." Meena stuttered through her sentences and eyes mostly staying on her feet as she spoke.

Clenching her teeth at the sudden inquiry, Ash pushed through her answer as politely as she could warrant right now. Lance and her breakup was a touchy subject and moreover was her dealings with it but she also didn't want to be rude to the meek girl either.

"...Yeah. I'm fine." Ash replied with a slight nod, which Meena accepted with a nervous smile.

Back outside, she walked all the way around the building until she found the camouflaged door between some poles covered in chipped yellow paint. The dusty air from construction was almost immediately intoxicating as she opened the door and shut it behind her; conditions expected from such an old building but was bothersome nonetheless.

A slight spring in her step as she gripped her guitar case tighter; determined to practice it at least a few more times before Buster called them on stage. Her own lyrics and chords going through her head as she made it up the stairs. Eyes subconsciously glancing to a couple of the pictures and posters lining the walls throughout the hallway. Majority of them weathered, cracked with dusty frames; the subjects portrayed were mostly deceased stars that graced the theater once upon a time.

Temporarily passing by Buster's office, she froze mid-step.

The door was ajar and the piano music pouring forth was seemingly pleasant enough to warrant a quick listen. Not seeing a radio or anything of the sort, she was confused as to where exactly it could be coming from.

Allowing her curiosity taking over, she peered into the door crack and saw Johnny over in the far right corner of the room. The gorilla, sans leather jacket, was sitting at the tattered old piano, playing a song she swore she heard before; perhaps from one of her father's records. It wasn't the one he'd played last time and that was about the extent she cared to give it any further thought. Gaze wandering over the strange scene, she took in Ms. Crawley, the ancient iguana fast asleep on the chair a few feet behind him. It was hard to tell she was sleeping at first since her glass eye was peeled wide open; that sight caused Ash's lips to quirk up slightly.

Icy blue eyes flicked back over to Johnny who was lost in his own world. Arms and shoulders swaying, foot tapping, head bobbing along with the beat he was playing. Humming out the up-tempo melody; a few sung words escaping every now and again as he played but it was apparently more to keep his place in the music rather than performing the lyrical aspect.

Ash had to admit that he'd vastly improved - and in such a ridiculously short time.

Her own guitar playing took months for her to attempt more intricate pieces without screwing up and this guy picked it up in more or less than a week! It was nothing compared to the awful plinking and missed notes from the other day; now it was smooth and fluid as his hands tickled the ivories in confidence. Any hint of stubborn jealousy fell to the wayside as she marveled in her own victory; being able to write her own song in two days and if he was able to learn a song on the piano in the same amount of time, well, perhaps miracles did happen…

A missed note abruptly rang out and an instantaneous groan of frustration filled her ears.

Perhaps she'd spoken too soon.

"Ugh! I almost had it…." Johnny exclaimed; accented voice muffled from stuffing his face into his hands. Ms. Crawley didn't so much as twitch as the gorilla stubbornly hit the keys with clenched fists. "Bugger!" he grumbled; forehead pressed on the keys and the piano groaned loudly under his weight.

The almost curse, if you could call that, had a slight chuckle tickling Ash's throat when she heard it because it was surprising to see the gorilla acting as such. Yet, what surprised her more was how quickly he picked himself up; almost immediately, he took a deep breath and gave himself a quick pep talk before the song started again from the top.

Ash had to give Johnny credit where it was due - the guy didn't give up…

A sudden slam of a door down the hall had her flinch and realize she'd been standing here far too long already. Own career and chance at the money on the line was far more important than checking out the competition…

Not like that, dammit!…she grumbled internally while shaking her head of any further pesky thoughts; chalking their escape up to her incredible exhaustion. Refusing to spare Johnny another glance, she disappeared down the stairs to the practice rooms.

Roughly an hour later, Meena had told them to meet Buster Moon backstage.

For no apparent reason, Ash was tense and beside herself. Reluctantly dressed in the atrocious outfit Buster had chosen; a sudden bundle of nerves caused by her exhaustion and wariness weighing down on her. Realizing she was about to perform something so personal in front of everyone; essentially airing out her dirty laundry among these random acquaintances. Sure, alone and lost in her own thoughts, the song came out but did it warrant her singing her own struggles with her ex to them?!

"Alright. I'll be calling you back one by one! Johnny, you're up first, so get ready." Buster announced, the koala bounding through the backstage and looking over each of them.

"Yes, sir." the gorilla replied politely as Buster moved closer to the stage.

"Good. Everyone else know their numbers?"

"Ya!" Gunter announced with an exuberant flourish but the rest of the crew just gave the koala a stiff nod.

"Alright! Break a leg, everybody!" Buster encouraged before he was gone with a flick of the curtain.

Ash was only somewhat aware of anything that was happening around her or on stage; even largely trying to ignore the other performers surrounding her. But as the time ticked on, Ash's icy blue eyes flicked up for only a second to take in her surroundings.

Rosita still seemed less than optimistic about performing but it was a relief to see the kindly pig here considering what had occurred just days ago. Gunter was his normal self; strutting around, jogging in place and adjusting the sequin tracksuit in the mirror that Johnny just vacated. Speaking of whom, the gorilla was leaning against a wall, fingers loosely drumming on his thighs like he was at the piano. Admittedly, less jittery than last time, there was still an almost panic to his motions. The last contestant, Mike, was nowhere to be seen and for that, Ash was rather thankful… Almost as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the mouse rubbed her the wrong way. Smug superiority lacing every single word coming out of his mouth reminded her far too much of a certain cheating bastard…

Tearing her eyes back to her lap, she took a calming breath. Refusing to give Lance a thought right now. This was her moment, her time to shine and he shouldn't get the pleasure of being on her mind during any of this. Putting her hand atop her guitar case as if for comfort, she closed her eyes and relaxed if only for a moment.

Buster's muffled announcements in introducing their show was barely registering to her as she got lost in her own meditations. Lyrics and chords going over and over again in her head as she mentally prepared herself. Still experiencing slight trepidation, she was ready to prove herself in front of Buster Moon and even the special guest he acquired, the famous ex-Broadway performer, Nana Noodleman.

There was so much she wanted to prove to them, the world, Lance, and mostly to herself. To demonstrate that she could do this of her own volition. Take pride in her accomplishment - her song and knew singing it today would be the right choice…

A slam of the front doors followed soon by voices bellowing through the theater had the entire group flinch and rise to their feet. Angry, muffled demands were not exactly what any of the performers were expecting. Giving each other curious glances and wondering what to do next was considered for them when the voices turned from demanding to downright furious.

Gunter, Rosita, Johnny, and Ash emerged onstage, with Meena following behind, ran out onto the stage and saw what no one was expecting.

The missing contestant, Mike, was currently being crushed inside the hand of a massive bear with two more, who looked almost identical, standing just inches behind. Before anyone could even mutter a single word, the newcomers beat them to it.

"Where's da money?!" The largest bear growled out; razor sharp teeth bared as he stared down at a very confused Buster Moon.

The koala, seemingly not very intimidated, replied, "Uh - What are you talking about?" Buster was not exactly subtle as he backed up closer to a very pretentious looking chest on stage.

The bears were not amused.

"Please, Moon!" Mike squeaked pathetically as the bear tightened his grip. "They're gonna fuckin' kill me!"

"Alright, alright, alright!" Buster stuttered, small hands up in a placating manner as to try and appease the suddenly tense situation. "S-S-Sure. The chest. I-It's all yours, boys. Take it and please vacate my theater."

"Yau op'n eet furst." one of the bears behind the leader spoke up; accent even thicker than the first. As if it wasn't hard enough to understand them…

"Oops. I uh, seemed to have misplaced the key," Buster made a rather convincing show of patting down his pockets, "I think it may be in my office but wouldn't you rather just take the whole thing? It should weigh nothing compared to what you strong gentlemen are probably used to carrying."

The bears answered by squeezing Mike tighter to which the mouse let out a painful squeal and everyone swore they heard an almost muted crack.

"Oh, look! There it is! Who would've thought? I found it! Silly me, I keep forgetting about that pocket." Buster chuckled nervously; a single drip of perspiration slipping down his face as he offered the small key to the towering bears.

Suffice to say, they weren't interested in taking it.

"You open it." the leader growled deep in his throat and Buster swallowed thickly.

"S-Sure."

You could hear a pin drop as Buster Moon made his way to the chest and popped open the lock. Suddenly, Mike was thrown to the ground and the bears had trampled over to the chest and pushed Buster aside. The koala hitting the stage with a painful thud as the monstrous bears ripped open the wooden box and to the horror of everyone watching…

There was nothing but junk stuffed inside.

"What is dis?" the leader asked the question on everyone's mind.

"T-The uh, prize…" Buster replied with a chuckle.

The contestants watching on were in complete shock at the implications of what Buster was saying. The broken radio and random trash piled inside the now open box…this was the $100,000 they were promised…?

Yet before anyone could even form the ability to speak or demand an explanation, a roar broke out through the theater. The bears stomped angrily toward the downed Buster Moon with their fists raised. The largest slamming his foot right near Buster's skull and the sound that accompanied prickled the hair on every one of their bodies.

It was almost muted at first. The barest breath of wind before a deafening cracking dissonance infiltrated Moon Theater; the group peering up at the hairline cracked that formed before the glass wall exploded in a thundering boom.

[35mmvinylmonster-blog]

Blue Velvet (1986)

David Lynch is a mystery to me. He consistently makes film that captures my attention even though his directing style seems to scream at the audience that they are watching a movie and that everything is artificial. I’ve been meaning to get around to Blue Velvet for sometime now and after viewing my opinion on Lynch is only strengthened. Roger Ebert gave this film one star. With all of his quirky, character molding dialogue and confusing plot turns he crafts another fantastically weird piece that I feel will be better understood on multiple viewings. Kyle MacLachlan is the perfect curiosity killed the cat character that would go on to inspire his role in Lynch’s Twin Peaks, a required viewing. Jack Nance even makes an appearance as Paul. His boyish charm is matched by Laura Dern’s Sandy who acts as a partner in solving crime. The film focuses on uncovering the darkness that hides behind the sunny, picket fences of the suburbs; something Lynch loves to uncover. When I watch a Lynch film or TV show I’ve learned not to trust anyone because often those who can be trusted most end up being quite the opposite. This film builds its characters in this way and it only gets more twisted the farther into the film one goes. The imagery of the robins from Sandy’s dream feel unnatural when they appear at the end of the movie. One clutches a bug in its beak signifying the dead evil that was once alive and represented by the bugs earlier in the film in the opening scene. A line that stands out to me is from Sarah saying whether she is unsure if Jeffrey is a Detective or a Pervert, a question which is heavily challenged throughout the film. The Debbie Harry-esque Dorothy is possibly the films most fascinating character because of what a mystery her life is. She is emotionally damaged from her torment making her actions seem unexplainable at times. Frank is one of the worst antagonists in any film I’ve seen and goes on to represent a concept of pure evil. He has no redeemable qualities and he thrives in this gilded suburban community. Jeffrey says that this case interests him because it’s something he’s never seen before. So much so that he’s willing to risk his own life to dig deeper. He’s seeking a thrill which asks the question again if he is doing this because of his perverted nature. In the end I don’t know and the film’s ending is too storybook to just be taken at face value. 

One qualm with the film I have is that there is a serious argument to be made about using rape as a plot device in film. It shouldn’t unless there is reason. There is an explicit rape scene in this film that will make you uncomfortable. I could argue that because of Frank’s pure evil nature that this fits in with his character but I’m not in any position to make arguments in this debate. When taking feminist film theory into account in this film it does not come close to fitting. It doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test and most of the women aren’t really portrayed as strong characters.

David Lynch loves his Roy Orbison and Dream Pop. The use of In Dreams by Roy Orbison completely changes the way I view that song now. Orbison knew this and originally denied Lynch the rights only to see it later when catching the movie in a theater. He would forgive Lynch later and even make a music video for the song with clips from the movie. “I find it hard to verbalise why, but Blue Velvet really succeeded in making my music contemporary again.” - Orbison. The songs creepy lyrics give Frank an edge to his words especially in the scene where he recites the words after kissing Jeffrey. The lip-synching scene brings to mind the Spanish version of Crying from Mulholland Dr. Another way Lynch loves to fool his viewers into an artificial reality. Mysteries Of Love by Julee Cruise is another example of Lynch’s love of dream pop and brings the Twin Peaks vibes to the dancing scene. Funny enough Cruise’s other songs would be used in the television series and would become iconic through that. A dream of a song for a dream-like movie and scene.