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kkusuka · 4 years ago

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Anatomy lessons <3

ushijima wakatoshi x reader

genre: smut

synopsis: ushijima is helplessly devoted to volleyball, and his grades reflect that.

cw: anatomically fem reader, vaginal fingering, blowjob (i think that’s it, if anything seems left out let me know!)

a/n: all i could think about is that ushiwaka is canonically stupid and i love that.

based o this request: Studying anatomy and using your body as a physical map- Ushijima ((smut)) I’ve had this imagine suck in my head about Ushijima but like just picture this, Ushijima and Y/N studying together and they both like each other but Ushi doesn’t know how to act on his emotions and Y/N can’t tell if he likes them so they are just running around in circles pinning for each other, but anyways Ushi is studying for anatomy but he just can’t get the female anatomy to stick into his head and he’s getting a bit frustrated and so Y/N is like well I’m a female, you can practice on me and he’s like well shit. Y/N lays down Ushi is gliding his hands over their body as he names the muscles and whatnot, they both get a bit hot and bothered and when Ushi finishes “studying”he’s got an awkward boner and Y/N is like “now it’s my turn to study your anatomy” and they push ushi down and 🤪🤪🤪 please give this to me I’ve been thinking about it ALL DAY!!! -✨Puppy🤩

Shiratorizawa’s reputation was built upon intelligence and elegance.

The students are of the highest degree in not only book-smarts but also athletics. Only the most talented and were persons were allowed in the walls of the academy. Hell, the entrance exam resembled an AP college exam.

“I do not understand.”

Of course, there are always loopholes.

The first being an athletic scholarship. One of the more annoying ways to make it into the school, according to the students. You don't mean to sound mean but, it was blatantly obvious when someone is on athletic help.

But that wasn't what you were dealing with right now. No, it was something the students found way worse.

A recommendation.

Actually, it was an athletic recommendation.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was known before he had even appeared.

You had been the lucky one to sit next to him first, and second, and somehow third year. And through that, you’ve learned more than a few things about him.

Firstly, he was the most amazing volleyball player you have ever seen. He also had so much passion for the sport that it had seemed to rub off on you. By the end of first-year gym class, you knew how to receive a light spike of his.

Second, he was extremely easy to fall in love with. For being constantly aloof and oblivious, he had this pull to him that just roped you in. at first you weren't sure what you felt for the bot, then he had helped you with a project ending the night with a smile and you were done for.

He was also incredibly easy to stay in love with. Once he had your attention he was almost the only person you thought of. Plaguing your mind with fluffy fake dates and worries that he would never like you back.

But he hasn’t said anything for you to believe either of those situations so you sit at a constant stalemate.

And thirdly, he was not only dense but utterly stupid. How was someone so sought after so completely unaware of admiration? Not only his social unawareness, but he was also not the smartest when it came to school.

Then you swooped in, raised his grades a few points, and became his official homework helper. You thought it was a blessing, more time with the man who had your heart, but you underestimated just how much help he needed.

You had no idea how many times you would have to explain the Pythagorean theorem to someone before they understood. (you're sure now that he didn't really understand and he just didn't want to hear it again.)

And anatomy was no exception.

“That’s alright Toshi, do you want to try looking at a different diagram? That might help!”

Opening a new book, you spent another ten minutes staring at the page just looking at it, before staring back up at you. And that's your cue. No more diagrams, he was never going to learn like that.

This was what you called plan visual. somethings, namely science, were better learned but seeing and not memorization.

Letting out a sigh, you closed all of the books and told him to do the same.

“Ok, here’s what’s going to happen.” placing yourself directly in front of the cross-legged man, garnering his full attention, “I'm going to give you an arm and a leg and, let's start with the skeletal system, so just tell me all the bones you can remember.”

Lending your hand you took it in his and gave you a nod. Going up the length of your arm finishing at your shoulder blade, he moved to run a hand along your un-bending leg. Starting at your ankle he kept a constant hand on the back of your knee, keeping your leg hanging in the air.

A few mixed up bones later you finally moved on to muscles. Not only did it take far longer but you could tell he was getting frustrated, if the hand gripping your thigh as he tried to name all the muscles there was any telling.

On his fifth try, you gave him some help and just decided to move on, seeing that it wasn't needed for him to know blood vessels just yet, there was only one other thing he had to do.

Male and female anatomy.

You had tried to avoid the topic but that seemed almost impossible at the moment.

“Is something wrong Y/n?” As he spoke you became all too aware of his hand still on your thigh and how he was staring right at you like he could tell exactly what you were thinking, “the next topic is the reproductive system correct?”

“Erm, ye-yeah, but we don’t have to-”

“Don't be silly, we have to get through all the material that will be on the test. May I have the textbook to reference from?” he spoke as if he was ordering food, completely nonchalant. As if his hand wasn't reaching into your skirt and sliding your panties to the side.

“This unit does not require the breasts so you can keep your shirt on.” he continued to slide your underwear from your legs flipping your skirt, pushing you onto your back. Maneuvering you to how he wanted, you holding your legs spread open and close to your chest, he got to work.

“The outer lips, formally known as the labia majora,” he spoke as he ran a finger down, spreading them open to e your hole clench around nothing. He let out a breath and intently stared at your core.

“Labia minora, inner lips.” running another finger along your lips he collected the wetness that had collected on them, bringing it to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he licked it clean. “A woman creates a natural lubrication to aid in intercourse.”

Deliberately avoiding your clit, he moved to the urethral opening, passing it quickly. Moving to run a hand along your stomach placing where he thought your cervix and womb lay.

“The clitoris, an organ that is completely dedicated to pleasure.” his thumb rubbing small circles around your bud was the final opus for you to let out all the soft whimpers you had so desperately wanted to let out.

Eye’s shooting to meet yours his thumb moved quicker, drawing more pants and wanton moans from your throat.

“Please Toshi, I wanna-”

Your beg must've ripped him away from whatever daydream he lost himself in, roping his thumb away from your clit, a whine escaping you, he moved to his final destination.

“The vaginal hole, where a man enters a woman and makes her his own. It leads straight through the cervix into the womb.” right as he finished two fingers shoved their way into your pussy.

Reattaching his thumb to your clit, he coaxed moan after moan out of you.

Hitting a spot somewhere deep in you, cunt spasming as he rode out you high with slow strokes, “the g-spot, a small area that aids with the female orgasm.”

Taking his fingers to his mouth once more, he watched you let your legs down and close your eyes to help calm your roaring heart. In your bliss, you felt two lips connect to yours, a soft dance between new lovers.

A forehead rested on your hands and ran up and down your sides placing you back into a sitting position.

“y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“We still have one more thing to do.”

Oh right, this lesson was a two-way street.

Crawling to kneel between his crossed legs you palmed his bulge as he leaned back on the chair, bringing his hands behind his head. He watched you take his cock out of its restraints, wrapping your lips around the tip leaning his pre-cum.

He let you pace yourself, don't complain when you came up to explain what you were doing to what.

On the contrary, you could tell all he wanted to do was push your head down and keep it there until his load stuffed your throat. Realizing this was probably the last time you would have control over the boy.

But all seems worth it when he shows you the A+ on the anatomy test.

Maybe Ushijima Wakatoshi is a good student after all.

#ushijima x reader #ushjima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader smut #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader

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emma-what-son · 3 years ago

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How Sir Philip's son cast a spell on Emma Watson: The super-woke Harry Potter star and the playboy son of the disgraced Topshop tycoon - it's hard to think of a more unlikely romance, writes ALISON BOSHOFF

One can almost see her eyebrows raised in quizzical disdain. Hermione Granger would surely disapprove.

Pictures emerged this week of Emma Watson, the serious-minded Harry Potter actress and eco-warrior, hopping out of Sir Philip Green’s family helicopter in Battersea, South London. Curious, some would think, given Emma’s long-standing war against fast fashion, that she would accept a lift from the fallen King of the High Street.

More curious still, however, is that Emma, 31, has apparently been enchanted by Brandon Green, Sir Philip’s 28-year-old son, whose longest relationship to date seems to have been with a Belarusian bikini model. Could there be a more unlikely romance?

Aside from both being awash with money —Brandon is an heir to a £2 billion fortune, while Emma is said to be worth about £59 million —they appear to have almost nothing in common. Yet according to a friend, a certain magic is in the air.

‘Brandon has been wooing Emma,’ says one source. Another says: ‘They are an item, although she hasn’t met the family yet.’

Emma, who once mused about being ‘self-partnered’, has certainly had more suitors than her single status would have you believe.

At 17, an early boyfriend was rugby player Tom Ducker, but her most serious romance seems to have been with another rugby player — and fellow Oxford student — Matt Janney, with whom she broke up in 2015.

Then there was another Oxford student, Will Adamowicz. The relationship lasted from 2011 to 2013.

She was then seen out and about with actor/producer Roberto Aguire, whom she first met in 2005 on the set of Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire. She also seems to have a particularly weak spot for young tech millionaires, as she has dated at least three of them, most significantly U.S. entrepreneur William ‘Mack’ Knight, whom she split from in late 2017 following a two-year romance.

Then came a six-month love affair with handsome Glee actor Chord Overstreet. They broke up during the summer of 2018.

She was then spotted sharing cocktails with tech CEO Brendan Wallace, a New Yorker, now 38, who is co-founder of a venture capital fund. By summer 2019 she was rumoured to have moved on to another tech millionaire, Brendan Iribe, CEO of Oculus.

She most recently split from her boyfriend of two years, businessman Leo Robinton.

It’s a longer list of amours than you might expect for someone who claims to be ‘self-partnered’, but then Emma is a woman who solemnly examines her life.

‘The boyfriends or partners I’ve had have generally made me feel really cherished. They have built me up,’ she said.

Quite how Brandon — who featured in Tatler’s ‘most eligible’ list in 2014 and was once caught patting Kate Moss’s bottom — fits into Emma’s orbit of admirers, remains to be seen. Although, like Emma’s other admirers, he does have a job running a tech investments company.

So who is this handsome young man — and what does Emma see in him?

Born in 1992, he was raised in Monte Carlo with big sister Chloe. His mother, Tina, is resident in the tax haven and was the ultimate owner of the Arcadia group, which went into administration last year. He went to the principality of Monaco’s International School.

To say his was a gilded upbringing would be an understatement. A source in Monaco says: ‘All the time he was growing up, the Greens would never fly commercial, always in their private jet.

‘They have a private chauffeur and in the family penthouse at the Roccabella building in Monaco there are uniformed maids standing to attention in every room just in case someone needs something. That’s the lifestyle Brandon was born into and has always thought was completely normal.’

He and Chloe have the use of the 109ft yacht Lionchase — Sir Phil has the 295ft Lionheart —which is moored in Monaco in the winter and cruises around the Med all summer.

I’m informed that his mum will pick up ‘seven-figure’ boat bills for the pair of them at the end of the season without blanching.

Brandon’s 2005 Bar Mitzvah caused a stir. It was held at the Grand-Hotel du Cap-Ferrat, with entertainment provided by Beyonce, Destiny’s Child and Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli. There were 300 guests over three days, all hosted by Sir Phil, who was then the boss of Topshop, BHS and Dorothy Perkins, all part of the Arcadia group.

When he was younger, Brandon seemed to be happy to join Chloe in a celebrity-packed party lifestyle. Locals say he was ‘practically living in Monaco’s Sass Café and partying until dawn every morning with a bevy of models’ in his 20s.

Kate Moss — a friend of his father — spent much of her 2011 honeymoon break with Jamie Hince on board his yacht and they got on famously. In 2013 he was spotted playfully groping Moss’s bikini-clad bottom while on holiday in St Barth’s. At the time he was 21.

When she was 21, Emma Watson had been famous for a decade and had just finished making the Potter films.

While Brandon found life one long, joyful party, she was struggling introspectively with having money and acclaim. As she recently said: ‘I’ve often thought, I’m so wrong for this job because I’m too serious.’

She felt physically sick when she found out how much money she had earned from the Potter films, and considered not renewing her contract to complete them.

Following stellar A-levels, she took an English degree at Brown University in Rhode Island — over five years, due to disruption from filming.

Brandon Green doesn’t have a degree. There was some idea that he might buck the family trend and go to university, but Sir Phil told an interviewer at the time: ‘It’s up for discussion,’ and evidently it was decided that was not the right path.

Instead, he spent years learning the ropes of the fashion business with Sir Philip and working for Arcadia.

As the BHS scandal raged in 2016 — after Sir Philip sold the company to a bankrupt, with a hole in its pensions provisions — and the company went bust, Brandon was sent to host a table at the Met Gala Ball in New York in his father’s place.

For three years, he was also a regular at the Topshop show at London Fashion Week, sitting with model Jourdan Dunn and chatting to Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour.

He began to go to Cannes, again as part of Topshop’s presence at the film festival, and to attend the Amfar charity gala on the arm of girlfriend Maryna Linchuk, a Victoria’s Secret model who towered over him.

But when Chloe became more involved in the family business and started designing shoes, Brandon stepped back from the spotlight.

They are a close family, all the more so since the woes that beset the Arcadia Group and Sir Philip before it collapsed. In fact, this seems to have acted as a wake-up call for Brandon.

A source said: ‘Once Philip fell from grace so badly, all the A-list celebrities and many of the world’s elite dropped the Green family completely. It really shook them up.

‘There was a party in Monaco that a family friend threw for them in the middle of the BHS pensions scandal. Brandon looked around aghast and said to Tina, “We don’t know anyone here!”

‘They felt the world hated them. Philip would fill his days doing laps of Monaco on foot with his bodyguard and personal trainer. Tina would busy herself in her art gallery or with her interior design business. There were a lot of tears; it was an awful atmosphere for the staff and for the family.

‘Brandon could see how transient popularity is and how big A-list stars had been using them for free holidays on their yachts for years. The whole experience sparked a “woke-over” in Brandon.

‘He got very interested in biodiversity and saving the oceans. He does a lot of charity and advocacy work with both Monaco’s Prince Albert’s Foundation and Princess Charlene’s Foundation. He is a trained deep-sea diver, he is very into fitness and gets involved with galas and charities that help the planet. He does frequent beach clean-ups and whatever he can to help.

‘It’s all very low-key, as he doesn’t want to be seen to be doing charity work for PR. But he’s been getting Tina to donate a hefty amount of money to charities that help save the planet too, saying they should do some good with their huge fortune.’

A second source says it is now Brandon, rather than Chloe, who is the apple of Tina’s eye, and he who is seen as the one who will eventually turn the family’s public reputation around.

A friend says: ‘He is very disciplined, intelligent and keen on study. He reads a lot, he travels a lot. He’s polite and well-mannered. Whatever he does, he embraces it fully. His parents are proud of him.’

His hobbies include skiing, at which he excels. He trains almost daily and took part in a gruelling cycling and swimming charity event last year for Princess Charlene of Monaco’s charity, going from Corsica to Monaco.

The friend adds: ‘He eats right and doesn’t drink or party — he is a very nice young man.’

How Brandon came to meet Emma, whose woke credentials may prove challenging for his family, is somewhat unclear, although it is believed his newfound interest in charitable ventures may have steered him her way.

Last year Miss Watson joined the sustainability committee at Kering, the owner of top fashion brands such as Gucci. She was labelled ‘Hollywood’s queen of ethical dressing’ by Vogue.

She has been taking a break from acting after appearing in the 2019 film Little Women but remains an active advocate for ‘race and gender justice’ via various charities. In 2014 she became a UN Women Goodwill ambassador, and she also ran a feminist book club, Our Shared Shelf, on Twitter.

She loves writing poetry, jigsaws, cats and nights in.

Her first purchase with the Potter millions was a ‘brick-like’ Toyota Prius. She said: ‘It’s sensible and boring, like me.’

Not that Emma is as staid as she says. In conversation with Gloria Steinem at an event in London in 2016, she revealed that she subscribes to a sex education website called OMGyes.

It’s a far remove from the days when she was cast in the Harry Potter films at nine years old, having been found via the theatre club she attended. She only completed filming the last Potter when she was 20, in June 2010.

Sources who knew her in the Potter days say her father Chris’s influence was paramount, even though she lived with her mother in Oxford.

The experience of growing up on Potter was so constricting and stressful, when the cast and crew held a ‘wrap party’ at Harry’s Bar after the final set of reshoots in 2010, she didn’t attend.

She said in 2017: ‘It’s something I’ve really wrestled with. I’ve gone back and quizzed my parents. When I was younger, I just did it. I just acted, it was just there.

‘I was finding this fame thing was getting to a point of no return. I sensed that if this was something I was ever going to step away from, it was now or never.’

Post-Potter, her films have been generally low-key. It is said she turned down the La La Land role that brought Emma Stone an Oscar.

Her £3 million London home was selected after she viewed it over Skype, because she can come and go unobserved.

That’s not to say her life is in any way normal: her social circle includes fashion figures such as Antoine Arnault of the LVMH dynasty, she has been the face of Lancome perfume and launched a collection with the ethical fashion label People Tree.

The question now is, will Emma finally find lasting love with a most unlikely Green?

#news #boyfriend

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watchathon · 4 years ago

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Book 3, Chapter 17: The Ember Island Players

In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watchathon, a blog where I’m hoping to watch an episode of a TV show every weekday, with a short blog post where I write down my thoughts as I watch. Each new thought starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.

- Like so. Now that the introductions are over with, here’s my thoughts on The Ember Island Players:

- We are literally one episode away from the series finale and Katara in the theme song still says that Aang “has a lot to learn before he’s ready to save anyone.” I could’ve sworn they cut that part out by now. Not complaining, though, it’s kinda funny.

- It’s nice to see Aang and Zuko practicing Firebending. Firebending just looks awesome, even when it’s not actually a fight scene.

- Nice detail that the poster for the play is based on the box art for the Book 1 DVD.

- I never would’ve taken Zuko for the type of person who would have critiques about a specific theater group and how a play’s been “butchered.” And I’m assuming these are opinions he held when he was taken to see the Ember Island Players as a little kid, to boot.

- “This is the kind of wacky time-wasting nonsense I’ve been missing!” I like the subtle leaning on the 4th wall here, referencing how the series gradually got more and more serialized.

- Oh, I’ve got to love the absolute 180 in Katara and Sokka’s reactions just as soon as their fictional counterparts open their mouths.

- It feels kinda weird to watch this episode after having seen countless videos of the Gaang reacting to the live-action movie.

- Toph is just having a blast, ain’t she?

- I just can’t get enough of the Gaang’s reactions to their equivalents in the play.

- Now I can’t help wondering what Peter Pan’s reaction would be to the genderbent casting for him.

- Well, you know what they say, Zuko: “Art imitates life.”

- I get the feeling that the real King Bumi would have as much fun with his interpretation here as Toph is having.

- Nice detail that the Ember Island Players don’t know the Blue Spirit is Zuko. And another thing I couldn’t help but notice: Zuko here takes the place of Admiral Zhao. Zhao’s just been forgotten completely in, what, half a year? For someone as obsessed with glory and legacy as Zhao, it’s an even worse punishment than whatever the Ocean Spirit did to him.

- You can already tell the Gaang’s not gonna end up the heroes of the play when Player Katara is totally supportive of Jet wiping out that Fire Nation town.

- There’s definitely at least a bit of self-deprecation on behalf of the showrunners, with stuff like this joke on how the Great Divide was the only true filler episode.

- I like this scene of the Gaang discussing the play during the intermission.

- This play’s having a lot more luck with its rope effects than that Spider-Man musical did.

- Again, Toph is having a blast. Katara’s waiting for Toph to react the same way the rest of the Gaang did to their portrayals, but Toph is just positively delighted.

- Do you think Toph would want Dwayne Johnson to play her in the upcoming live-action reboot? ...Scratch that, of course she would.

- Added to the list of reasons to get my hands on good video editing software: replace Player Toph’s scream with the audio from the “AHHHHH” video.

- I’ve just come to a realization: this play is the theater equivalent to an abridged series.

- Seems like the audience isn’t all too enraptured by the play, or at least the drill scene.

- I get the meta gag, I think it’s hilarious, and it makes a great meme to boot, but... Jet’s death wasn’t too unclear, really. Sure, they don’t explicitly say “Jet’s dead”, but it’s so strongly implied that there’s very little room for an alternate interpretation.

- This play is hilarious, but it’s clearly bringing back some bad memories for Zuko. He almost definitely doesn’t want to be reminded of how he betrayed the best father figure he had so he could go back to the one who scarred and banished him for speaking out of turn.

- I like the bait-and-switch when Sokka asks Suki if she can get him backstage.

- It’s nice to see Toph chatting with Zuko about Iroh, complete with a callback to when she met Iroh.

- I could’ve sworn there was more mention of the scar being on the wrong side in the play before this...

- I bet Zuko wishes it had been that easy to join the Gaang.

- Y’know what, I’m just gonna say it: the ribbon-bending is also pretty cool.

- Do you think in like, a few years, the Ember Island Players are gonna revise the play to not only depict how the war actually ended, but also depict the Gaang as definitive good guys?

- You know it was a bad ending when you completely turned around the opinion of even your strongest supporter: Toph.

- You could really just replace the word “play” with “movie” and then you get the general opinion on The Last Airbender...

- I didn’t think this episode would just end there.

#TV #Avatar The Last Airbender #ATLA #Book 3: Fire #The Ember Island Players #Katara #Aang #Zuko #Toph Beifong #King Bumi #Admiral Zhao #Jet #Iroh

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doomedandstoned · 3 years ago

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Shepherds Crook Doom the Moonlit Sky in Latest LP

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album art based on a painting by Remedios Varo

I've been enamored SHEPHERDS CROOK from the moment I chanced upon 'Black Lake' (2018) some years gone, which inspired an impromptu review. Here is a band that should be, in my mind, every bit as familiar to aficionados of doom metal as Dopethrone, Bongzilla, and Cough. This opinion is founded on more than the strong emotional connection the music has made with me over the years. Every sludge lover I've had occasion to introduce the Trondheim duo to has taken to them immediately. Who can deny the appealing backwoods grit of "Uteseler" or the celebratory toke of "Smoke Diver"?

While their road game has yet to start, their track record in the studio is flawless with two stellar EPs and four highly regarded LPs notched around the belt already. The principal drivers of this project are multi-instrumentalist Ole Hell and vocalist Nestor. Together, they're a force to be reckoned with in the heavy underground, with Ole's penchant for composing dank rhythms and forlorn guitar leads that touch a nerve every time. Nestor completes the picture with characteristic gravelly crooning that carries more evil, hissing ire than a den of pissed off vipers.

Before us lay the latest long-player of the lot, 'Mat For Månen' (2021) -- or "Food For The Moon" -- which is such a brilliant title when you consider how suitable this music is for humid summer nights full of barbeque, beer, and self-loathing. If the dog's fabled bark at the moon could be rendered in relatable terms, it might end up sounding like Shepherds Crook.

"The Narrow" cracks the bottle on the recording with an irradiated strum. This becomes the song's central theme, with bass and drums joining in, followed by Nestor's gruff, caustic strains. This dirge of doom is unrelenting, with the riff simultaneously establishing the melodic core and rhythm. It's a tight track with no room for fat, not even for one of Ole Hell's trademark guitar solos -- though the woeful axeman does drop an ominous footnote during the song's closing seconds.

The titular "Mat For Månen" is next in queue and dons quite a downcast mood, with guest artist Stian Sumstad's basswork carrying the song to several emphatic moments that border on epic. The guitar has an opportunity to really shine on this one, with a melodic lead midway through that seems to be telling us secrets buried in the woods 'neath these mysterious moonlit skies.

Photograph by Magnus Olsen

Though I'm far from an angry drunk, "Barfight" has me feeling the rage that comes along with imbibing a bit too much and making enemies at the table before the night's all said and done. The song sets off a nasty blues vibe that makes me feel braver than I really am, inspiring a swing at my enemies -- real or (in this state likely) imagined.

Our four-song excursion grinds to a finish with "Ingen Morgenkvist" which does sad as only Shepherds Crook can. Though I'm uncertain of the precise meaning ("morgenkvist" has no English equivalent), my best detective work has me believing the song title could be approximated "No Morning Seen." This number has a certain weight to it -- and not merely because of its 16-minute runtime. Despite the familiar joshing about how long doom bands are prone to playing ("I just got here, what did I miss?" "Nothing yet, they're still on their first song!"), it takes strong songwriting and a steady hand of musicianship to pull off low and slow in a way that works convincingly for the listener. Here, the song has a balladic feel (it's based on a poem by poem by Jørgen Nygard) that builds gradually, layer upon layer, with Mr. Hell's guitar doing the kind of singing that defies words, yet somehow succeeds in rendering meaning.

Overall, Mat For Månen is a welcome addition to the Shepherds Crook oeuvre. It succeeds in delivering the unique sound of the band with a depth that gives it staying power. Perhaps it will find a welcome home in your playlist, to. Releasing July 2nd (at which point it will be available for purchase here), the record is presented in its world premiere courtesy of Doomed & Stoned.

Give ear...

LISTEN: · Shepherds Crook - Mat For Månen (2021)

Shepherds Crook: The Rundown

Interview with guitarist Ole Hell Photographs by Magnus Olsen

How did Shepherds Crook get its start?

It started out as some kind of experiment back in 2017 when I (Ole) rented this little studio room in a larger studio space of a friend of mine.

The first track we did was "Outlaw Speedking", based on a riff I made on the spot when I found my acoustic guitar after many many years of not playing. I got myself some new gear and just started to record.Nestor heard it and got hyped, wrote some lyrics and recorded the vocals in one take, first try. We knew that we had to do more songs and about a month later we released Black Lake. We did five releases from 2017 to 2019. I do everything from recording to mixing and mastering, so it's been a learning process for me as far as making heavy music sound good, with every release I think it sounds a little bit better.

Where did the name Shepherds Crook come from?

Actually I thought it was a fascination for walking sticks from hiking in the woods or whatever, but Nestor reminded me the other day that the name came from a dream I had years ago where I was going to make a band called Shepherds Crook. I can't really confirm that as I don't remember. Blame the beers.

How would you describe your "sound" to someone who hasn't yet listened to your records?

We're all over the place as far as I'm concerned. We started out with more of a stoner vibe and kind of mixed in elements of doom and sludge. The vocals might be weird for a lot of stoner rock fans, and the riffs might be too boring for everyone that is into "metal" but likes the vocals. This is our impression from people anyways. But back to the sound; it's heavy riffs, moody melodies and mean vocals. I think we kind of got our own thing going at this point, we care less and less about these "doom" and "stoner" labels these days to be honest.

Walk us through each track on 'Mat For Månen' and tell us about what the songs mean and/or how they originated.

We do like the idea that the listener can interpret and make up his own mind what the tracks mean. But, basically the general idea for the album is the moon and how it connects to organic life on earth. Mat For Månen is norwegian for "Food for the moon" and is based on the same concept laid out by the mystic G. I. Gurdjieff (and to some extent Ouspensky and others), I won't lay the whole thing out here, but if anybody is interested they could check that out.

The tracks touch on this topic in various ways like lunacy, the saturn connection, no dawn, wizards and shit, lol. The songs are also pretty varied on this one, from that stoner doom thing to a more heavy blues vibe, doom and stoner metal.

As a side note, we recorded the album at a place called "Månen" (the moon), the place of a buddy of ours. Cool thing is he joined on vocals for two of the tracks and It sounds awesome. He might be joining us on bass and co-vocals whenever we get our asses on stage.

Speaking of stagework, has Shepherds Crook had a chance to get out and tour much?

I mean, not really. In the beginning it was just me playing all the instruments as a studio project. Then after a while we had a couple of drummers come in and a bass player. We started rehearsing to play live then some of us couldn't make it due to different reasons, etc. We still have plans to make it happen at some point in the near future.

Give us an overview of your discography so far.

Black Lake (2018) Uteseiler (2018) Evil Magician (2018) Carved In Smoke (2019) Dauseiler (2019) Mat For Månen (2021)

Black Lake by Shepherds Crook

Uteseiler by Shepherds Crook

Evil Magician by Shepherds Crook

Carved In Smoke by Shepherds Crook

Dauseiler by Shepherds Crook

Are there any records or songs that you are especially proud of?

I know we're both pretty happy with Uteseiler as a whole and the last track of Dauseiler: "Serpent Ropes". Also, Mat For Månen is pretty decent I would say.

What does the future hold for Shepherds Crook?

I'm in the process of writing riffs for another album, but have no idea when it will be finished. It could take a while. We have other projects going as well.

Nestor (the singer) is now in this black metal band and I'm doing my other thing Vandrer (instrumental doom), you can check it out on vandrer.bandcamp.com.

We also got a new drummer: Trollhammer aka Jan Olav, an old childhood buddy. We were in a death metal band together in the early-mid 90's and he's been in many death metal bands since then.

He will be doing the drums on both Shepherds Crook and Vandrer from now on, bringing that extra punch to the face (and groin area).

What is your philosophy of life? How do you see the world, your place in it, etc.?

Well, we got all kinds of crazy renegade ideas. While we wait for that book, just insert any Lemmy quote of choice!

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#D&S Debuts #Shepherds Crook #Oslo #Norway #doom metal #sludge #metal #death doom #HeavyBest2021 #D&S Interviews #D&S Reviews #Doomed and Stoned

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donkey-hyuck · 4 years ago

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— thank you ❤︎

~ as i am writing this, i have surpassed 400 followers (now at 402)! i am thankful for everyone who has followed me and followed my passion as a writer. i started this blog somewhere last year (mayb march of 2019??) but unfortunately, i did delete my first few posts— even tho i really regret deleting it in the first place— but they were just not good so ig i had a reason??? however, thank you all for liking my shit haha

it’s kind of upsetting bc i have no asks to actually answer, but half of my followers are moots— lmao—and i’m so glad and thankful for every one of you. you all made me realize that i could be myself and even brought out a side of me i didn’t even knew i had. i’ve met so many good people that i genuinely consider friends and i’m so happy! so a big thanks for my following is all of you!!💗 (not gonna tag ppl bc ion wanna be cheesy😭)

now i have some giftes for y’all! i’ve updated my headers (of which have alr been edited and posted for the teasers), and i have some story ideas and headers alr in mind so i’m just gonna give them to you!

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (song fic; butterflies by queen naija) ↴

genre- angst (in the beginning) || fluff (pray for me)|| lil suggestive || strangers to friends to lovers|| college!au

characters/pairing- basketball player!yukhei x fem!reader || wayv/nct || (more to come..)

— in the midst of your relationship crisis, you’re set up with one of the most known basketball players in the district. though, you were more alike than you thought, yukhei made you feel some type of way; only for the feeling to be reciprocated. and you caused butterflies in each other’s tummies.

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (song fic; i.l.y. by the rose) ↴

genre- fluff || angst || idol!au

characters/pairing- idol!jisung x younger, fem!reader || nct || other sm artists

— the reality of the world hit you both in the face. he was an idol and you were just an ordinary person that attended school and just overall worked your ass off. exposed by a dispatch article, there were an abundance of people that said the two of you would never work and that you were too young. yet you and jisung proved society wrong. and after quite the buzz, sm had released a press confirmation that changed your lives; and for the better.

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (demi-god!au) ↴

genre- fluff || maybe a lil suggestive || also maybe a bit angst??? || demi-god! au || college freshman! au || e2l! au

characters/pairing- demi-god!donghyuck x fem, mortal!reader || nct || (more to come..)

— his secret was out, but no one cared. in fact, it made them love him even more. the son of nike, goddess of victory. he excelled at everything, only he was the exact opposite of his mother, and you hated him for that.

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (criminal!au) ↴

genre- princess! au || criminal! au || angst || fluff ||suggestive

characters/pairing- criminal!hyuck X princess!reader || nct || (more to come..)

— born and raised in the castle, you never really got to experience life out of it. everything you did and learned had to be within the castle walls. yet, you were soon to be the queen, and have barely seen the people living in your kingdom. it was a shame, truly. but one night, whilst tossing and turning in your sleep, the bustle of rope on your balcony had instinctively told you to rise. slowly, opening the balcony doors, you’re met with criminal mastermind, lee donghyuck. you felt attracted to him the minute he spoke. and he promised you freedom from your own people. but he lied about who he was and his past, and when you later found out, you felt so damn naive.

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (tv show inspired) ↴

genre- fluff || a lot of action (bc I’m a nerd)

characters/pairing- not a lot of pairing (even tho aang and katara highkey had a thing) avatar!mark x fem, waterbender!reader || nct || (more to come..)

— after accidentally coming across the last air bender with your brother, he is faced with the reality of the world a hundred years later. the fire nation had taken over almost all the villages across the globe. you and your brother had been destined to help out the avatar. and it was the avatar’s destiny to restore peace in the world. now it was time for the avatar to master all elements to defeat the fire nation and end the hundred year war; all while having the smallest crush on said water bender.

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (pirate!au) ↴

genre- angst || fluff-ish lol || maybe a bit suggestive??

characters/pairing- pirate!hendery x runaway bride!reader || wayv/nct || (more to come..)

— you were arranged to be engaged to some snobby hero. but he was no hero, he was an impulsive liar. the man only got away with things because of his charm. everyone in the whole town believed what he said, no matter how false it was. the only true thing about him was that he loved you yet you didn’t have the guts to love him back. and on the day of your wedding, things didn’t go as planned and you were stolen as a victim. aboard the pirate ship, famous for its savages, wong kunhang is the captain of the boat and has a huge debt to pay.

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (prince!au) ↴

genre- maleficent! au || dark fey! au || prince! au || angst || fantasy || suggestive

characters/pairing- prince!jaemin X fey, fem!reader || nct || (more to come..)

— the boy, na jaemin. ever since he had been born, stories of the fey’s had been the main talk within the kingdom for centuries. and na jaemin was an inquisitive person. so when one of his knights had told him a story about his experience with a fey, his curiosity only grew more. he was a very young boy when he first snuck out of the kingdom walls, out into the forest surrounding it. the rustling of the trees and branches only filled his ears as the moonlight cascaded onto his pale skin. until it was completely covered. since then, years had passed by, and na jaemin finds himself venturing past the walls once more. to find the fey that drew him into the mystical world behind it.

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (from this point on, these fics i just haven’t written down yet) ↴

genre- prince/king!au || fluff || angst

characters/pairing- prince!taeil x seamstress!reader || nct || (more to come..)

— prince moon taeil, now, king. he’d first met you when you were both twelve. living at the orphanage at the time, taeil was amazed at how beautifully skilled you were at your music abilities. his mother and father had always thrived off of the sound and calmness music had brought them. but when he introduced you as a musician, they had refused to acknowledge you and expelled you from ever getting near their son and the castle ever again. but taeil would not give up, because after all those years of listening to you, he’d developed feelings. you were the music notes to his own song; the pauper and the prince. (rough-draft summary)

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (song fic; when night falls [긴밤이오면 OST] by eddy kim) ↴

genre- post breakup!au (if that makes sense) || long distance relationship!au || ghost!au || angst :’)

characters/pairing- ghost!jungwoo x fem!reader || nct || (more to come..)

— they said long distance relationships weren’t easy. but after five whole years, you and jungwoo had proved the hypothesis wrong. there was the occasional meeting while you were in seoul but other than that, it was all screens and pixelated lovers. however, when you got moved to a new job, farther than what you had expected, your path was solely based on your career and so you broke up with the man. three years had then gone by with little communication until the second year came and jungwoo completely cut contact with you. but when you came back to visit friends, kim jungwoo’s spirit— who now roams the streets of seoul, korea— notices you’re back; but you never noticed that he was gone. (rough-draft summary)

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

— (high school! au) ↴

genre- high school (musical)!au || lots of fluff || a lil angst

characters/pairing- troy bolton esque! chenle, gabriella montez esque!reader || nct || (more to come..)

— after moving across the country, your father was granted an internship. so once you moved to the place you didn’t call home, there was someone that brought it all back. who knew after one interaction would make you feel this way? (rough-draft summary)

— release date: to be determined

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

thank you all again!! please look forward to these! i love you to the universe and back!💗

#i think i have like 1 or 2 more but it won’t fit bc tumblr is dumb :(#thank you all!💗💗#i love you so much :’(#vy’s milestones #vy’s spoiling you ;)

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fretened · 4 years ago

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Celeste (2018) - pushing game design to new heights (Developed by Matt Makes Games)

Reviewed on PS4, playable on:

Steam

Itch.io

Epic Games store

Nintendo Switch

PlayStation 4

Xbox One

Introduction

Celeste is a game about a girl called Madeline who decides to climb a mountain to overcome her depression and anxiety, as well as the other characters she meets along the way. Little does she know that Celeste mountain is more than what it seems and, in order to confront the challenges she will face along the way, Madeline will have to come face to face with a part of her that she would have much rather avoided. Celeste uses mostly linear 2D platforming across groundbreakingly designed levels, all with a gorgeous 16-bit art style which, along with a cast of charming characters and wonderfully written dialogue, delivers a truly moving story about self-reflection and overcoming anxieties despite all the odds. Here are my thoughts and feelings on the 2018 critically acclaimed ‘best independent game’ and ‘games for impact’ Game Award winner, Celeste.

Level design

Celeste’s fundamental mechanic is Madeline’s dash ability which propels her in a straight line in a chosen direction for a set distance. The dash can only be interrupted by objects in the environment and it can only be used once in mid air - it recharges as soon as Madeline touches the ground; this is represented intuitively on screen by Madeline’s hair turning blue when her dash is used up and turning back to orange when the dash becomes available. This core mechanic is explored in a different direction in each of Celeste’s 8 chapters. If you explore these levels you can gain access to the far more challenging B and C side versions of the levels which push the exploration further in it’s respective directions, however, you may not even feel inclined to touch these levels as Celeste’s main game alone is likely challenging enough for a lot of players.

Celeste’s side-scrolling levels are broken up into stages/sections that you have to pass to progress through the game. I felt as though each section was designed to push and improve my ability at the game and make me practice and experiment with my approach to each section’s unique challenges.

Each screen/section would have maybe 2-5 challenges you had to pass, one after another, and the game’s instant deaths, fast respawn times and the ability to save anytime meant that there was no repercussion for my trial and error and I could keep trying and trying until I would find faster and faster ways of progressing and, often, hidden shortcuts that I hadn’t seen the first few times round. The gameplay promotes developing a mastery of it’s mechanics. These shortcuts are often found by thinking outside the box and playing around with levels’ systems and mechanics. For players looking for a challenge, as well as cassette tapes with B and C side levels, Celeste’s 8 main chapters are full of collectible strawberries which present a whole load of extra examples of really clever game design. For example, some of these collectible strawberries have wings and will fly straight up and out of the level if you use Madeline’s dash and so you have to think outside of the box and grab the strawberry without using the dash which is usually vital for getting from A to B. It’s this kind of design that stops the game from ever feeling dry or formulaic. Celeste’s levels constantly feel fresh, well paced and engaging.

I’d also like to note that at the start of each level in the loading screen, Madeline receives a different postcard with useful information on it. Two stood out to me: one saying that you should be proud of your death count because it shows that you’re making mistakes and you’re learning; I found this message incredibly uplifting because at times frequent deaths had made me feel a little embarrassed or made me wonder if I was getting something seriously wrong. The other was that the collectible strawberries are entirely optional and only for showing off to your friends if you really want to. I think this was a brilliant move because it gives the player a little more control over the game’s pacing. You get to decide whether you’ll spend some time trying to grab this tricky strawberry or whether you’ll push on with the game and move into the next section.

Accessibility

Celeste is rightfully celebrated for it’s range of accessibility options, from it’s tactful and unobtrusive assist mode - for players who need to fine tune the game to their specific needs in order to get the same enjoyment out of the game, to it’s picture settings that reduce flashing and particle effects for people with photosensitive epilepsy or motion sickness. For more on Celeste’s assist mode, check out Game Maker’s Tool kit’s video on ‘What Makes Celeste’s Assist Mode Special’, you can find the link to that at the end of this post.

Soundtrack

Lena Raine’s soundtrack to Celeste is an audio marvel. Whether it’s daunting, uplifting, mysterious or moving; the soundtrack made me feel tied and invested to every moment. The music was just as much a journey as every second of gameplay. The soundtrack plays to the gameplay perfectly and occasionally leads to some really incredible moments. As well as Lena Raine’s marvellous score, Celeste’s B and C sides have a range of tracks and features by other artists like lo-fi artist ‘In Love With a Ghost’.

Narrative

Celeste deals with heavy subjects like depression and anxiety without ever being tasteless or insensitive but simultaneously the game manages to deal with these subjects in an uplifting way, much in line with the game’s core message. Each level feels rich with meaning and the games narrative is tightly interwound with it’s settings, characters and mechanics in a way that feels seamless and engaging.

Celeste uses profound metaphors to deliver it’s story and discuss mental health in each chapter of the main game. One of my favourite’s was Chapter three - ‘Celestial Resort’ - which had you help skittish spectral maître d’ clean away the clutter in his abandoned hotel. As you tidy away the hotel you find him seeming less anxious than the last time because you’re helping him order the clutter in his mind so he can finally have some peace. This also happens to be what Madeline needs at this point in her story and helping the maître d’ provides her with th clarity she needs to move on. This is one of the ways the game deals with heavier subject matter without dampening the player’s experience of the game and keeping an ‘upward momentum’.

The game’s narrrative, characters, environments and soundtrack all made me feel engrossed in my ascent of Celeste mountain. The mountain has a real sense of place, mystery and history that unveils itself to you as the story unfolds. I felt fully engaged in every setting because it felt like I’d come across something that nobody had seen in a long time. Even with Celeste’s generally fast paced gameplay, it never felt like I was ‘just passing through’ a location because the drive to explore and overcome challenges kept me searching every corner and taking time to explore when I wanted to.

Everything about Celeste contributes to it’s narrative. It’s gameplay pushes you to reflect and overcome challenges. Lena Raine’s soundtrack fits every scene like a glove and fills each moment with emotion in a constantly moving way. Characters will climb out of their Dialogue boxes in some scenes as if they’re really coming to life. Even the ‘chapter complete’ screens, at the end of each level, push the story forward and tell you where Madeline is going next. Celeste is a beautiful and important story,told in an ingenious way, unlike any other game I’ve played.

Is this game for you?

I would suggest Celeste to anyone looking for a new and different gaming experience and an uplifting story. It feels consistently fresh with perpetually ingenious level design and a really wonderful story. I’ve had more fun on Celeste than any triple A game I’ve played in a long time. I’d recommend Celeste to people looking for a hopeful story in what feels like quite a hopeless time because this is a story about never losing sight against all odds, friendship and support, and self-acceptance. It’s clever, inventive, charming and moving and I just love it and I’m pretty damn sure that you will too. Celeste is a permanent fixture of my PS4 library.

Can’t afford it?

I completely understand that lots of people may not have the funds right now or in the foreseeable future to get this game and if you choose to engage in piracy or any kind of swashbuckling then I’ll reserve my judgement but personally I would always rather support the developers so I’ve put togther some links to some ‘let’s-play’ series and videos about the game so you don’t have to pirate the game if you want to get the closest thing to the experience without having to take it illegally and get into legal trouble, damage your computer/console or promote activities typically detrimental to the developers.

Watchlist & sources

Here I’ve put together a semi-curated list of videos, articles and other resources about the game as well as some ‘Let’s Play’s and speed-runs:

GMTK - Mark Brown from Game Makers Tool Kit made two videos about Celeste which were really useful resources for writing this review. It was actually these videos which introduced me to the game in the first place so it’s only fair that I recommend them to you.

Why Does Celeste Feel So Good to Play? https://youtu.be/yorTG9at90g - This video talks about the design of Madeline’s controls and what makes Celeste such a satisfying to play.

What Makes Celeste’s Assist Mode Special https://youtu.be/NInNVEHj_G4 - This video looks at how the developers have confronted a fundamental problem in game design: balancing the design intentions and accessibility as well as player preferences.

More videos - Here are some more videos about this game that I love. The first two are a lot more focussed on the level design and how the game showed you the ropes and guides you to mastery and they’re both really well produced and written and really entertaining. The last one is a short and sweet documentary about Celeste’s development from pre-game to the design and how the story started to fall together.

How Celeste Teaches You It’s Mechanics - Good Game Design (Snoman Gaming) https://youtu.be/lZoQ9a7oPvo

Celeste: Breaking Down Level Design (OK Beast) https://youtu.be/w_aWMxcHrgw

The Story of Celeste’s Development (Noclip) https://youtu.be/c3mbELVqAmo

Let’s plays and speedruns

Celeste: Fruit Brute - PART 1 (Game Grumps) https://youtu.be/iB4KG2wABPA - This series by Game Grumps is really funny but it only covers the earlier parts of the game so if you’re only looking for a bit of gameplay then this is for you!

Celeste Let’s Play [Playlist] (TenMoreMinutes) https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLn5okaoIT7P5KvGs25IWmGPcM5kvowqqh - This series covers pretty much the whole game so if you’re just looking for something to watch then here it is!

Celeste Any% Speedrun in 27:31.4 (TGH) https://youtu.be/g2KqMYWviYk - A really impressive speedrun. This guy’s just trying to finish the game as fast as possible without worrying about the strawberries or the B and C sides.

Celeste All B Sides Speedrun in 26:46 (TGH) https://youtu.be/I76TcmlsRIk - This is another complete marvel by the same guy. This time he’s doing all the B side levels; the B sides really are substantially harder than the main game.

The Celeste Speedrun That Wasn’t Humanly Possible (IGN) https://youtu.be/yEKku8S5-fo - This is a short video about an AI designed to Speedrun games that did a super human run of Celeste.

Links

Celeste game accessibility guide http://gameaccessibilityguidelines.com/celeste-assist-mode/ - This is a great website if you’re interested in accessibility in games, I used it for the accessibility section of this review.

Notes

I may eventually write a piece in more detail about aspects of the game design that I really enjoyed but in the interest of keeping things spoiler free - this is all for my Review of Celeste. This is my first game review and there will be things I’ve done well and, in greater likelihood, things I’ve done not so well and I’d love to do better in future so share your thoughts with me! I’m on Instagram under @Fretened or you can contact me here on Tumblr, I’d love to hear what you think.

If you got this far, thanks for reading Xx

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magic-mitchell · 5 years ago

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Okay, since you offered, hi, I'm curious about the basic plot, characters, and context for the memes? IDK, I adore other people's campaigns.

HELLO THERE I’m glad you asked!!!

We are an all-drow party hired by the Archivists (a group of wizards, scientists, scholars and researchers) to look into a deadly magical plague that’s been sweeping the land. We’ve discovered that drow specifically are immune due to the nature of its origins, and long story short we’re on our way to commit regicide in the name of ending the plague.

The party consists of

* Theodore (@novasiri), a tiny snarky alchemist who keeps his cards very close, whose beloved homunculus of thirty years was recently obliterated, and he’s not been in a good mood because of it.

* Reloneth (@agent-underdark), a cleric, formerly a fiend warlock, doing his best to turn it all around and do some good. He dads everyone in the party (except the paladin, kind of, because, in a delightfully gay turn of events, they are dating). He recently talked to his god for the first time since learning said god was indirectly responsible for the plague and directly for the creation of the Princes of Chaos, which he regrets. Relon is still processing that the gods aren’t perfect and can have regrets.

* Rhylaonar (@leidensygdom), a paladin, and an unlikely one. He’s seen a lot of character development from being a thief stuck with a holy sword to an actual missionary of justice, and he’s dating Relon.

* Cato (@sleebyfrogs, that’s me), a warlock roped into a pact to try and get rid of a terrible curse (though the pact was just... kind of like a second curse on top of that). He and his patron have had a rollercoaster of a relationship in which he was eventually freed from service, his patron turned mortal, and they may or may not be very, very obviously crushing on each other. He recently nearly died and then got frostbite as a direct result of his own stubbornness and pride.

* Athaso (@athaso, formerly, as his player unfortunately had to drop out), a mysterious flirty rogue with a history as an assassin. Last we saw of him, he threw his evil mother out a window to her death, took Cato to bed with him and disappeared off the radar completely.

Uhhhhh oh man my memory is a disaster if any one of the above players wants to add to this post with some of the best moments and dialogue you are more than welcome and encouraged to do so

Meme context (in reference to this post):

* “Are ya sciencing/withholding information son?” - We have tons of these Relon dad memes for every occasion. Literally any time he asks a dadly question it’s a race to apply it to the template, I’ve got it saved to my desktop for easiest possible access

* “How to break ass” - I don’t remember the exact context for this but breaking ass is what Rhyl does most often and best, for the most part. I think his player needed some placeholder book titles for a 3D model assignment XD

* Tide pod diagram - Rhyl and Relon could not for the life of them roll high enough intelligence to understand how our new Stones of Farspeech worked (Rhyl has negative int and Relon is like a grandpa with technology). Someone said the stones looked like tide pods and now it’s just canon. The one with the teeth is our employer, whom we have one line to (our DM @messyjester’s poor Credence, who is a lot more handsome and lovely than our shitpost doodles will ever give him credit for) and the other is Rhyl’s nephew Velanzus, whom we have another line to. Rhyl often calls him just to check in, it’s very sweet.

* Team Rocket - we have some NPCs who lowkey have this dynamic (Cato’s sister Malcice and Jess’ Kazimir). This file is saved on my computer as theWorst.png

* Rhyl Astley - “Rhyl make a roll” “a Rhylroll, if you will. Or maybe a RickRhyl”

* “I am 225 so drinking is yes” - I have no idea where the original image comes from was but Rhyl likes to drink a little too much and he 100% would do this

* “Relon fucked a dragonborn” - early one so I’m not sure I totally remember the context but I think Relon said something that got badly miscommunicated and quickly out of hand. For the record Relon insists he has not

* “I am a dumb bitch with expensive tastes” - this one kind of speaks for itself, Cato likes finery and will complain incessantly whenever we have to camp outside/be somewhere cold/be somewhere hot/watch our budget instead of buying new clothes and rich sweet foods

* “Rhyl’s fucking himboness” - we forgot to factor in Rhyl’s paladin aura into a Frightened save and when we retrospectively remembered it brought Relon’s roll up to the required DC

* “It’s free Rhyl estate” - we went back to the guild he used to be a part of and he asked if his room was still there and if he could stay in it again and I had the perfect joke

* “Cohen has cursed me for my hubris and my neurological function is never good” - Cato’s former accomplice stabbed him in the back by walking him into the trap that got him cursed (and then directing him into a pact when he asked for help). The curse affects his memory and specifically his ability to remember instructions and anything he’s read, or draw conclusions on how to learn from his mistakes (he’ll remember the event and understand the logical next step if it’s brought to his attention, but he won’t be able to connect the two no matter the explanation). And it’s getting worse.

HKSVIGSGSKHLSJOHS that’s a hell of a lot but I love this campaign so dearly and I’ve missed it so much, thank you for asking!

#D&D #Drowsquad #Memes #RBtalks #Long post #Answers #Thank you!!!

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monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my · 5 years ago

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What We Lost and What We Have

I decided to also post the fic on Tumblr since I’m desperate for feedback, and I’m really excited for this AU and I want to know if other people are too... because I really want to know if there’s an audience for it... (also on AO3)

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May 18, 2000, the night Sam learned 3 things.

John had cheated on Mary. Kelly Kline was dead. And his younger half brother Jack was born…

Nearly 17 years later their family never really recovered. But after a panicked phone call from Jack’s uncle Castiel, their family will never be the same.

“It’s Jack, there’s something wrong with Jack…”

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Chapter 1: Exes, siblings, and drunken mistakes

May 18, 2000

Sam had just turned 16 two weeks earlier.

Up until that point, the worst thing that had happened to him was being dumped at his sophomore winter formal and having his CD player stolen out of his locker by Bela, the opportunistic klepto of a foreign exchange student from Pre-Cal the same night.

They were celebrating Dean moving into his first solo apartment the night they got the call.

Sam had gone upstairs to get a head start on his summer reading list but he could hear the rest of his family laughing and talking over the game through his cracked bedroom door.

He'd barely even heard the phone ring and his mother getting up to answer it, only taking note after he heard the volume on the television being lowered dramatically.

"What'd you say Mary?" his dad asked, the smile still in his voice.

"I said, do you know a Castiel?" Mary repeated.

"Castiel? I don't think so, maybe someone from the shop, Dean?"

Dean must have shaken his head because he never heard a response.

"Well whoever he is he sounds really upset," Mary sounded concerned.

He couldn't make out what his mother asked the man on the phone but then…

"Castiel Kline?"

There was a deathly silence, curiosity got the better of Sam, he closed his book and went down the stairs. John had gone white as a sheet.

"He says you knew his sister…" Mary turned to look at John, eyebrows raised, "and he really needs to speak to you."

John had nearly snatched the phone from Mary in his haste apologizing profusely.

Sam had stayed hidden by the stairs his entire family looking on as John walked quickly to the kitchen.

Dean looked confused, Mary looked shell shocked. Neither moved.

But Sam did he tiptoed quietly to the kitchen door staying just outside it eavesdropping on one side of John's phone conversation."

"What do you mean she…? Calm down, I can't understand what you’re saying, slow down. What happened?"

John was pacing the room, running a hand through his hair panic in his tone and posture bent like everything teetered on the voice on the other end of the line.

"How can you be sure it's… he's… Kid, I didn't even know she was... I met her once... she never told me!"

Sam heard footsteps and jumped, his mom had finally unfrozen and moved towards the kitchen. She was shaking slightly, her mouth set tightly, eyes watering, he stepped guiltily out of her way.

"John… what's going on?"

The screaming started less than a minute later. Dean eventually pulling him away back toward the living room.

And that night Sam had learned 3 things.

John had cheated on Mary.

Kelly Kline was dead.

And his younger half brother had been born…

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April 21, 2007

Another night he'd never forget.

Dean had said John had gotten in a car accident when he called him at Stanford, a stupid little fender bender.

The other driver had come around to John’s driver side window pissed off ready to give John a piece of his mind only to find him slumped over, pronounced dead by paramedics on the scene five minutes later, an apparent heart attack behind the wheel.

"I know you don't give a shit about him anymore, but at least come to his fucking funeral."

The years had not been kind to the brother's relationship, but even Sam thought that was uncalled for. He wasn't going to leave Dean alone to deal with the aftermath.

He'd been in the middle of preparing for finals but he’d still come.

Dean hadn’t been big on lawyers ever since the bozo divorce lawyer who’d drawn up John and Mary’s papers had cheated them out of 6k.

He'd missed John’s service but not the burial. Listening to some preacher go on about what a great guy his dad was would only have brought up inappropriate angry thoughts. He knew Dean would be angry he didn’t show up, he would have been angrier if he’d laughed.

So he'd sat in his car until everyone started to leave. One or two great aunts and uncles he’d never met, guys who worked at the auto shop, sundry friends and neighbors. Mary had spotted him and came over knocking softly on the window and giving her son a silent hug before leaving.

When he finally got out there were only three people left.

Jack was six-years-old and tow-head then, - like he’d seen Dean in pictures at that age - hiding on the far side of Castiel, watching them nervously as he was led away from the graveside hand in hand with his uncle.

It had been a weekday so the boy had thankfully been with Castiel at the time of John's death.

His brother was standing at the graveside when Sam approached him, hands stuffed in his pockets swaying side to side. Like he was getting ready to fill in the hole himself if the gravediggers didn’t get there soon. Because it was something he could do with his hands and emotions, taking out his grief on the dirt.

It made Sam a little wary to approach him but he barely looked up and over when Sam came up beside him.

“Hey.”

They’d stood there in silence Sam mentally stumbling over a thousand things to say in his head.

"Well, dad’s... dead.”

He imagined Dean was probably silently seething.

“Maybe I should have asked dad to die at a better time so it fit into your busy schedule.”

Emotions neither one was ready to confront kept them from moving.

“Same time next year?”

Dean had said it sarcastically, and looking back Sam wished they’d had a better story but that was how their little tradition began.

Outside of major holidays or birthdays, it was one of the few times they made an active effort to see each other. Sometimes catching up, other times just visiting the site. Rain or shine, just the two of them.

Until today.

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April 21st, 2017

“It’s almost fucking summer,” Dean muttered, his breath puffing in the early evening air. He rubbed his hands together before handing Sam an even colder beer. Sam huffed and took it, and making no comment about how that would do next to nothing to help, or about how it was a trashy brand he hadn’t seen since pre-law.

“If it makes you feel better the weather channel says it’s the coldest spring in over a decade..” Sam sipped his beer and grimaced, it reminded him why he’d never been much of party-er in college.

But as Dean once put it “our family were salt of the earth people,” and he wore that fact like an aesthetic badge, like hipsters and the wannabe actors in Cali. Sam grinned a little at the thought.

Dean poured out 79 cents worth of beer for John before cracking open another bottle to drink himself.

“Happy ten years dad,” Dean smiled humorlessly. “Still managed not to burn your shop to the ground…”

He’d been waiting when Sam got there standing and looking down in the exact same way he did ten years previously. Rocking back and forth, processing, contemplating. Sam searched Dean’s back for something to say. A navy canvas covered back.

“You got a new jacket…”

“Huh?” Dean sipped his beer like he hadn’t heard him.

“I’ve always seen you wear Dad’s old leather one,” Sam insisted.

It took a ridiculously long time for him to respond, like Dean had settled on an unspoken rule that he had to wait until Sam's breath completely dissipated into the cool morning air before he could reply.

“Yeah well, maybe it’s too cold today, like you said ‘coldest spring of the decade,’ ever think of that Sammy?”

“It’s just a cool front, it’ll be in the seventies by tomorrow Dean,” Sam said flatly.

Dean fell silent again for a long moment.

“It’s been ten years… it got old, I got a new one, do you need me to psychoanalyze your henley now?”

Sam rolled his eyes in defeat letting the subject drop with another swing of dishwater beer.

If Sam remembered one thing about growing up with his brother it was that Dean was a creature of habit. Dean had never been big on school but he’d insisted on using the same backpack all throughout middle and high school, and one look at the parking lot told Sam he still drove dad’s old Impala, he’d repaired both items multiple times. Dean didn’t get rid of things because “it got old.”

“ It’s been ten years… ”

Maybe it was time for a change.

Sam swallowed in the charged silence, “ change... ” he’d been putting off talking to Dean about that.

He’d done something on impulse. He’d been roped into going out for drinks with his fellow junior partners in his firm after winning a case. Sorting out some accounting error that got at least three people fired. He hated those cases, making sure that companies weren’t liable for random bullshit that meant nothing in the long run. They’d had three like that in the same month. So... after a few drinks… he’d gotten sentimental, started thinking about his life choices, thinking about all the things he hadn’t done yet, the things he regretted.

Sam really should have asked Brady to stash his phone before they got to the bar.

But the secret he’d been keeping reared it’s deceivingly unassuming head before he had a chance to open his mouth..

The silence was broken by a distant but harsh sounding cough.

Dean glanced over his shoulder posture immediately stiffening, eyebrows raising, “What the hell…”

Sam at least had the good grace to look guilty.

Castiel looked about the same as Sam remembered him save for a few lines on his face. The same constant vaguely worried look was made more prominent by whatever he was talking to Jack about.

Jack, on the other hand, had changed a lot. He’d maybe been eleven the last time Sam had seen him. Since then his hair had considerably darkened with age from blond to sandy brown and he’d shot up half a foot. There wasn’t much of John visible in Jack’s face and if his resemblance to his uncle was anything to go by the Kline genetics were strong in him.

He looked a little washed out, blowing his nose in a tissue as they approached, a small bouquet of yellow flowers in his free hand, looking up from his conversation with his uncle to give Sam a cautious smile. Sam looked quickly away.

“I was uh… meaning to talk to you about... this…” Sam looked sheepish.

“Oh you were going to talk to me,” Dean scoffed, “Sam what are Jack and and and… saint Castiel doing here!?”

“I invited them?” Sam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Dean looked lost for words mouthing silently for a moment, "Okay Sam so explain this to me."

Sam huffed now he distinctly didn't want to answer him, "Dean could you just…"

"No no no please tell me," Dean seemed to puff up with indignation and betrayal, "what exactly possessed you to think that was in any possible way a good idea? because it's beyond me!"

“Six beers that did not taste like piss ,” he didn’t say.

"Is there a problem here?" Castiel and Jack had finally reached the grave. He kept himself a little in front of the teenager, protective. It was painfully familiar, even the look of nervous confusion on Jack's face.

"No, not all," Dean snorted, "I just thought… some things were sacred."

"He's dad's kid too, he has as much right to be here as we do!" Sam raised his voice done with his brother's verbal assault.

Said kid just coughed awkwardly.

Dean didn't even glance his way, "yeah sure, any other day he can have a goddamn picnic here if he wants, but not today… he's never come to-day…"

"I’m right here you know," Jack piped up annoyed.

"Dean, you're acting like a child," Sam was beginning to get pissed off. Dean was embarrassing him in front of people with one of his stupid hissy fits.

"Yeah well, maybe I am," Dean reached down to pick up what was left of the six pack, the remaining bottles rattling ominously.

"You see I thought… I thought maybe this meant something to you, that I still somehow knew you," Dean shrugged, "but you're right Sam, we're not kids anymore…"

And with that Dean left, returning the wary look he got from Castiel with a sarcastic smile.

Sam just sighed not following, instead turning his attention to Castiel and Jack.

Any of the anxious hope Jack’s face had held when they first walked up had gone, replaced with an unreadable expression.

Castiel looked shaken.

"I'm really sorry about him, he's just…" Sam trailed off he didn't have an honest excuse.

"No it's fine," Castiel sighed looking harassed, feathers ruffled so to speak by Dean's tirade.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come," he gave Jack a significant look that rubbed Sam the wrong way. He felt like he had to defend his brother.

"He's not usually like that it's just…" Sam trailed off feeling lost. He didn't even know why he was doing this, he'd invited them on a stupid drunken whim, and he barely spoke to Dean anymore. He was basically defending two strangers from one another. He didn’t feel like explaining his brother’s temper tantrum. He should have stayed in California at least there the people made sense.

“I’m sorry you drove all this way from…” Sam pulled up a blank.

“Indiana, Midway, Indiana,” Cas huffed, crossing his arms and looking colder than it was possible to actually be wearing at least three layers.

“Right,” Sam awkwardly swung his arms at his side, examining the freshly pruned grass for weeds.

He had cases he needed to get back to, they were barely two month’s out from a major merger and the firm had yet to finish writing out the paperwork. He spared a glance toward Jack.

Jack seemed to shrink into himself still half hidden behind his uncle’s coat, coughing quietly into his sleeve.

“You okay?” Sam tried.

“Hotel AC…” the kid muttered not looking him in the eye. “We um… we got in late last night, been hanging around there all day.” His free hand was tucked into his patterned jacket pocket, the one with the flowers tensed into a shaking fist, crinkling the plastic, biting his lip, like he was trying not to cry.

Sam felt bad for him, wanted to say something reassuring, but he knew if he looked over an inch he’d see Castiel, glaring at him like he’d just stabbed the kid.

“I um… I’m supposed to meet Mary at six…” Sam said lamely.

He heard no objections, "good to see you again," he sighed before walking away.

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Dean stared down into his glass, swirling the amber middle shelf spirit; he’d tossed the cheap beer in the fridge before going out in search of something stronger.

He didn’t want to be alone and sober in that house… not tonight.

He took a long swallow from the glass then knocked it back against the bar counter, “fuck you Sam.”

“You got a ride home tonight Dean-o?” a familiar voice prodded sounding amused.

“You offering Gabe,” Dean gave the bar owner a thin smile.

Gabe chuckled topping off his glass, “just asking, I’d hate to have to sick the big guy on you for your keys…”

Dean glanced over his shoulder spotting the glum musclebound bartender. He was scrubbing at a table in harsh rapid spirals, treating sticky beer and peanut bits with all the intensity of someone cleaning up blood from a murder they committed.

“Where’d you find that anyway,” Dean snorted taking another mouthful of whiskey, “haven’t seen him around before.”

“Gadreel is just one of my many, many, siblings,” Gabe leaning back against the bar and shrugging, looking pleased with himself - though that was likely just his resting face -.

Dean squinted, besides brown hair, he didn’t see the resemblance.

“Gadreel?” Dean huffed into his glass, “ I get Gabriel, there’s tons of Gabriel’s, but where do you get a name like Gadreel?”

Gabe pretended to busy himself scrubbing out a lowball glass surreptitiously, “Our Dad was a religious nut, and his name started with G so he decided all his kids should have G names too. Actually, now that I think about it…” he paused to examine his reflection in the glass, “he may have just been an overall nutbag”

Dean opened his mouth to say something snide, then remembering he was named after his grandmother he decided to mind his own damn business and went back to his drink.

“Mom would have killed me if I didn’t get little bro the job,” Gabe paused eyeing Dean like he wanted him to ask why.

Dean let him hang for a long minute draining the rest of his glass and wiping his mouth before asking.

“Yeah, why?”

“Gadreel used to be a security guard for some big designer store downtown,” Gabe poured a drink for himself in the glass he’d just cleaned coming around the counter with the bottle to join Dean, - the bar was emptying out for the evening - .

“He let the wrong person in, the store got robbed, and he copped accessory charges for shit he didn’t do, ended up doing a stint in prison for it, it’s hard to get a job after that.”

Dean snorted, that sounded about right. The world was like that. You thought you knew how things worked one minute and then one friendly gesture later it spit in your face.

And Dean was beginning to think Sam was one of the most worldly people he knew.

“So how's that going for you, working with your brother,” Dean snorted at the concept, imagining Sam working at the shop was like imagining hiring a dog as a bailiff for one of Sam’s courtrooms, a terrible yappy one with a penchant for biting you in the ass.

“It’s fine, he’s a little stiff, ee-mmedially kills the mood if anyone tries to ya’know actually talk to him, but one look from him is all it takes to keep a hot-headed drunk in line so,” Gabe shrugged, “all things considered it’s a good trade-off.”

“Hmm…” Dean gave an unconvinced huff of a laugh.

“You ever work with family Deano?”

You could never completely tell with Gabriel, whether the man was actually trying to be a friend or just trying to get his patrons to buy more drinks. Dean hadn’t been in the mood to talk when he’d arrived but after four whiskeys the sun was burning low on his inhibitions.

“My dad…” Dean threw Gabe a bone tapping his glass in his general direction, “we uh… we worked together at his auto shop from when I was sixteen until a few years ago.”

Gabe poured him another glass, “Last call… I knew you worked at an auto shop, didn’t know it was your dad’s…”

“Yeah… he left it to me when he passed, it’s not like Sam would even know what to do with it even if he actually wanted it.”

The bar owner had the good graces not to comment on his dad’s death.

“Sibling problems Dean?” but apparently not the good sense not to ask about his brother.

“My brother’s a lawyer out in California, kid works in some big corporate firm and yet can’t breathe without letting me know how much more righteous he is, how that works I’ll never fucking know.”

Gabe snorted, “I got an older brother like that, Michael, real piece of work.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose.

“He goes by his middle name, first name is actually Gary,” Gabe quickly explained.

Very biblical name Gary...

“Yeah, well one idiot brother is enough for me,” Dean muttered darkly.

Today had been about six steps to far, Sam had never been as close as Dean was with their dad even before the divorce and after… he barely spoke to John from the time he moved out of the house until John’s eventual death.

Still Dean thought that even if John meant nothing to the man anymore that maybe this… thing they did... that it was their thing, meeting and going to pay respects at John’s grave. That they could just go there and deal with whatever shit they had about what had happened and just not be alone.

But inviting a kid, THAT kid… clearly what Dean thought and what Sam thought was very different.

He had no idea what their yearly meeting meant to Sam, if anything, and that terrified him.

Dean sat not saying another word clutching his glass so hard he was afraid it would shatter. Gabe seemed to lose interest after a while getting up and moving away to chastise his own brother.

“Hey, man go easy on the tables you’re gonna wear thru the varnish…”

Dean quietly got up, peeling a wad of cash out of his billfold and laying it on the counter, he was done talking for tonight. He headed out of the bar weaving slightly to call a cab.

The house was just as dead quiet as when he left it, he flicked on the lights, it didn’t really help anything, just threw the closed doors of his parents and Sam’s empty rooms into sharp contrast as he stumbled up to bed.

It was two in the morning when his cell rang a few hours later, bringing his throbbing head back into the land of the living, he saw Sam’s name and shut it off annoyed going straight back to sleep.

Only minutes later, the landline rang.

Dean kicked off the covers swearing under his breath before stomping downstairs to snatch up the old yellowed relic, ready to unleash a tirade at Sam.

“Do you having any fucking clue what time it is!?”

“Dean?”

It wasn’t Sam but the voice was vaguely familiar, “who’s this?”

“It’s… Cas… Castiel…” the man sounded shaken, “Samuel gave me your number.”

Dean’s still half drunk brain was at a loss, there were strange unidentifiable sounds in the background. He stayed silent in bewilderment.

“I um… I’m at the hospital... It’s Jack,” his voice cracked.

“There’s something wrong with Jack…”

#Supernatural #SPN #fanfiction #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Jack Kline #Castiel #family drama #father death #car accident mention #heart attack #sickfic #kinda #whump #emotional whump #Gabriel #Gadreel

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fantom-noise · 6 years ago

Text

Hell is Empty

Part 2: Happy birthday, Jay!! @breathofmine @happybirthdaytsundanire

Pairings: Harry/Blaise, Harry/Draco

Word Count: 2,743

Rated: M (sexy time) (also language)

Warnings/Content: Light bondage, rimming, oral sex, anal sex, porn with feelings, porn without plot

"As sinful as Harry's mouth was, Blaise could defrock the devil with his tongue."

Summary: Draco needs Blaise to get close to Harry to see if his feelings might be reciprocated. But Blaise gets too close and things get complicated.

It started as some good old fashioned espionage. A touch of flair and elegance, of course, as Blaise was never one to half-arse anything, even a tryst. He had to know what all the hype was about. Between the rumors in the papers and the whisper-shrieked conversation he'd overheard in an abandoned Ministry corridor, Blaise had formed quite the impression of the precious savior that had Draco wrapped around his golden finger. All he intended to do was get to know the bloke, to find what made him tick. To see what Draco saw in him. To snuff out the truth of his bedroom shenanigans.

"He could take the whole Wizengamot to bed for all I care," Draco announced in that stubbornly light-hearted way that told Blaise he was in real pain. "So long as he gives me a chance."

"To fuck?" he pressed.

Draco looked away. Ugh, it was pitiful.

They were all on friendly enough terms these days, nine years after the war. Star Auror Potter had quit the Ministry three years ago to fly for Puddlemere United, and he'd just won his first World Cup this summer. Blaise saw an opportunity to invite him over for a modest celebration, saw an opportunity to forget to invite anyone else, saw an opportunity to serve him a single glass of his very finest whisky and pick his brain. That conversation outlasted the fire, outlasted the night and Blaise's morning shift at the Department of Mysteries. But this was a mystery worth his attention.

As a teenager and, later, an Auror, Harry Potter was an arsehole. Short-tempered, perpetually stressed, only able to see in black-and-white terms. He followed his gut, which was twisted and starved by trauma and high stakes. Blaise couldn't be bothered with all that rot. It wasn't his style. But this Harry - the Quidditch star, the young man whose chief complaints were early practices and a strict diet that only allowed one glass of whisky - was a delight. Soft at times, then wickedly sharp at the drop of a hat. Openly enthused or utterly lost in his daydreams...Blaise delighted in learning to read his expressions.

"He gets this look on his face when he's peeved," Draco recalled fondly, the stupid cupid-struck git. "I've never seen anyone else who could turn their brows that sharply!"

Blaise laughed along, knowing he himself could calculate the exact angle of Harry's downturned brows.

A few weeks passed. They went for coffee in Italy (Harry drank water, the cad), shopping in Paris (he was a fashion disaster and Blaise was his only hope), flying with wild phoenixes in Japan (not a word was spoken that day and yet Blaise learned more than ever about his target). It was all going according to plan.

What was not in the plan was this...this reciprocation of interest. Blaise didn't quite know how to play it off when he arrived to work last Tuesday to find his favorite Italian espresso order waiting on his desk, charmed to keep hot.

Lost the match but still worth the trip, -H read the note.

Blaise was stunned when Harry recommended an obscure seminar in Hungary on Ancient Aramaic rituals - when exactly had he let slip that he knew Hungarian? The seminar was incredibly enlightening and Blaise locked himself away at his mother's estate for four days straight to research further. When he finally returned to his circle of friends, he tried to play off Harry's smug smirk with a quip about his hair. Because despite his charming sincerity and devotion to his friends, Harry Potter was still a fashion disaster and Blaise would cling to that desperately.

He would not fall for Harry Potter...except, perhaps, into bed.

They hadn't talked about it properly, but then he hadn't expected to. Gryffindors were brash like that sometimes - they either laid it all out on the table for frank discussion or they just laid themselves out on the table to take it up the arse, no qualms about it. When Harry invited him to Grimmauld Place, he conveniently forgot to invite anyone else. He poured Blaise a glass of his favorite whisky and they kissed chastely over the bar cart.

That didn't last long - their chastity, that is.

Harry didn't just kiss with his mouth, he kissed with his whole being. His body writhed in Blaise's grip, his soul moaned out of his stubbled throat, his fingers sparked with random flares of magic as he tore off their clothes. Blaise would mourn his bespoke robe later, when he didn't have an armful of savior to wield for his pleasure.

With unblinking eye contact, Harry dropped to his knees and didn't so much as glance down until Blaise nodded. Harry flicked his gaze to Blaise's rapidly hardening cock like it was the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen, because of course, it was. Harry pressed a soft kiss to the head, then another just below, and another on the shaft, then another and another and another. Random and without sense, just fond, teasing little kisses, until he pushed his lips against the end of his cock and let the head slip through into a gorgeously warm place of sin.

Blaise heaved a great sigh he didn't even know he had in him while Harry drooled over him happily, as if he'd been born to suck this cock. Slurping obscenely, Harry finally deemed him slick enough and fell into a rhythm. Blaise leaned back against the wall and lifted his own arms, crooking them at the elbow and draping them over his head. He closed his eyes, pushing away the image of that bobbing head of black hair, and allowed himself to simply feel. Harry's hands dug into his bare thighs, moving slightly with his motions, his nails catching and pulling on the hairs there to add just that bit of pain that Blaise needed to heighten the pleasure. And oh, that throat - Harry charged forward, taking him in to the hilt, again and again and -

"We can do better than a blowjob," he gasped, dropping an arm to tilt Harry's chin away from his dripping cock. A line of saliva connected them still, even more spittle dripping onto the floor, and Blaise nearly came at the sight. Harry looked quite pleased with himself, the sloppy fiend. "Got a bed to rest that mouth?"

The loud witch at the Ministry had gone on and on about her time in Harry Potter's bed, and perhaps it had really just been about the bed itself. It was well made, for certain. The heavy oak frame didn't even flinch when he threw Harry on it. Harry grinned up at him with such savagery, it pulled a growl from Blaise. Like a panther, snarling and naked, he pounced.

Blaise knew he was in trouble when Harry bound himself to the headboard with a practiced flick of his wrists. Silk rope held him firmly in place, leaving him open to Blaise's heated gaze...open and eager. No fear in his eyes, no timidity, no bashfulness. Harry glared at him in challenge and Blaise was never one to back down from a challenge.

"I reckon he'd like being tied up," Draco was babbling now and turning pinker with every word. "Aurors are kinky like that. Quidditch players, too, they like the adrenaline."

"Shagged a lot of Aurors and Quidditch players, have you?"

"No," Draco grumbled. "But you have..." His eyes lit up with one of his plans and Blaise's fate was sealed.

Harry's skin was soft in some places, scarred and calloused in others. Blaise ran his hands down either flank, basking in how vulnerable the ribs under his palms were. Harry rolled his hips up, his cock half-hard, and Blaise pressed him back down. He smirked.

"I'm going to wreck you, Potter," he promised.

True to his damned reputation, Harry gave as good as he got, and it was all the more impressive and infuriating when he was tied up. When Blaise yanked him down, Harry wrapped his legs around him. When he ravished a nipple, Harry arched into it and used his bastard elbows to hold Blaise against him. Every push was met with a pull and every pull was answered by a smart lip. This was absurd. Blaise gripped his hips and lifted him up into an inverted, vertical trap. That filthy mouth was pressed shut against his chest, his shoulders took his weight on the mattress, and his arse faced the heavens from which it came.

Blaise ghosted a breath across his exposed arsehole and thought he heard a tinge of unease in Harry's surprised squawk. Blaise froze.

"Alright down there?" he asked.

"Kiss my arse," Harry laughed, awkward and strained with his chin on his chest.

He did. As sinful as Harry's mouth was, Blaise could defrock the devil with his tongue. (And in fact, he was working on just that - his latest research project would summon an ancient sex demon if all went to plan.) There was no easing into it; he set his standards high and kept them there. His tongue plunged into Harry's arse without mercy, soon joined by a lubed finger, and then another. He reached around and under Harry's free-hanging legs to stroke him erratically, adding to the torture. Every lick, every stroke, every prod was without rhythm, leaving Harry squirming and unable to build towards an orgasm until he was a twitching, quivering mess of a man.

"Fuck - fuck me!" Harry cried.

Blaise obliged. He dropped Harry from his inverted position and he finally lay flat on his back, legs splayed open without an ounce of fight left. Just pure, carnal desperation for Blaise's cock between them. Slathering on some lube, he lined up and pushed in, and watched Harry's brows reach new heights with every inch.

"Gyah…!" Harry gasped nonsensically as Blaise buried himself completely. He pulled out to slick more lube over his cock and it was just enough time for Harry to regain some of his fire. Blaise snorted inelegantly as Harry coyly hooked a leg around him, pulling him back in.

"Devil," he accused with a hard little thrust. Harry grunted blissfully, closing his eyes and losing himself as Blaise set a punishing pace.

"I wonder what his face looks like when he comes," Draco mused. Blaise thought it would look like the face he'd made when his diet allowed a rare slice of treacle tart.

He mimicked it for Draco, pulling gales of laughter from his long-time friend. Even in childhood, Draco had always been one to laugh with him, not at him.

Harry tensed tellingly and Blaise closed his eyes. Harry came and Blaise missed the expression on his face, choosing to focus instead on chasing his own orgasm. He sped up, throwing himself to the sensations, and then felt his climax tumble out of him in hot, pulsing bursts.

He pulled out and collapsed beside Harry. Reaching blindly overhead, he undid the restraints, though he was certain Harry could undo them himself. Harry draped a hand over his back, cradling him against his side.

"Are you..." Draco broke off, looking slightly ill.

"We're friends, Draco," he assured him.

Blaise hated himself for what he had to do, but he'd hate himself more if he didn't do it.

"Not my style, Harry," he sighed dramatically, trying in vain to mask how out of breath he was.

Harry jerked, tilting his chin down to look at him with a bewildered smile. "What?"

"Bit earnest for my tastes," he went on. He focused on meticulously cleaning his come-covered hand on the bedsheet. "Far too much eye contact."

Harry huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes, and Blaise went in for the kill. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He'd have to traipse down to the ground level in the buff - their clothes were still in the parlor - but first:

"You're too earnest," he said again, turning to face Harry again. He sat up on the bed, staring at him with uncertainty and even a bit of fear - at least more fear than he'd shown when he was tied up. "Nothing wrong with it, per se, but it's not my style. All that moaning and gasping, I can't stomach it."

"But that's...that's sex." Harry's brows turned at the slight angle that meant he was confused, not angry. Blaise hoped he wouldn't hate him after this, but he was on a mission.

"I should've kept you on the blowjob," he said. Harry's face fell into an all new expression, one he hadn't seen before, and Blaise felt his heart sink. He was the lowest of the low here, but it was all for a greater cause. Harry blathered on about Draco just as much as Draco pined for him, and Blaise didn't share...not with Draco, anyway.

"Why didn't you." It wasn't a question, the way he said it. More of a recrimination.

"Too much mess," he answered simply. Harry frowned - a small, analytical frown that he thought Harry may have picked up from him - and wiped his chin self-consciously. "You may not have a gag reflex, but I do." He pulled a face and Harry glared at him, brows turning down at that dreaded angle.

"You could've said something!" he shot back. "I'm not a mind-reader, I don't - "

"I wouldn't have you change who you are just to shag me," Blaise said. "It's just a shag, Harry." He kept his voice gentle, praying that's all this was. For both of them.

Harry looked unconvinced, but more confused than peeved. "The last two months, then, that's all just been for a shag?"

"Six weeks."

"What?"

Blaise sighed, furious with himself. Of course he'd kept careful track of time for this of all things, when he couldn't even keep track of how long he'd hidden away in his mother's estate researching demon sex rituals.

"We've been...crossing paths, as it were, for six weeks now. Not two months."

"Crossing paths."

"Yes."

"Not dating."

“Don't shag him,” Draco told him firmly after laying out the plan. “Don't - don't muck about with his mind or anything.”

“Not sure he could afford it,” Blaise agreed. This was Potter they were talking about. What was Draco worried about?

“Just get to know him,” were his orders. “See if you can't get him to give me a chance. But don't - ”

“Circe’s tits, Draco, I've got it! Your precious savior's safe with me, don't worry.”

Blaise blinked politely. "Did I give you any indication we were dating, Harry?"

Harry flushed bright red, snatching the small pot of lube Blaise had left on the mattress and aiming for his head. Blaise ducked just in time, raising his arms to protect his beautiful face.

"I'm sorry!" he offered before Harry could find his wand and do some real damage. "That was shit of me, I'm sorry, I - yes, I led you on!" He lowered his arms cautiously. Harry was standing now, clutching a pillow like a weapon.

"I thought we were..." Harry trailed off, seeming unsure what to say. "I mean, I know we never discussed it and we weren't exclusive or anything, but I thought we were something." He stared hard at Blaise. "More than just a bad shag."

Blaise straightened up, feeling ridiculous as he stood there in the nude, discussing their feelings and pretending he wasn't lying.

"So we have no sexual chemistry," he said with a shrug. "It's hardly the tragedy of the century, you know." Harry laughed without humor in that dark way he had sometimes that piqued Blaise's interest. "I still like Italian coffee. And I suppose I could still like you in an Italian coffee house," he sighed, sounding highly put-upon. "Given enough time to recover from this experience, of course."

"Get the fuck out of my house, Zabini," Harry snorted, tossing the pillow half-heartedly at him. He caught it and offered a small smile back.

"You know who likes loud, messy, earnest sex?" He only just managed to keep mind-blowing off the list.

Harry raised his brows indifferently.

"Draco." Blaise grinned like a cheshire cat while his heart screamed at him to take everything back and keep Harry for himself.

Harry tilted his head and squinted, considering… Blaise held his breath.

"Right then - I've got a mission for you, Blaise," he said, his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Some good old fashioned espionage."

All credit for the Blaise (and Blaise/Harry) headcanons that are in this go to the birthday girl! I just put it into writing since she’s busy creating other amazing content. <3

#harry/blaise #harry potter #blaise zabini #drarry #pre drarry #draco malfoy #smutty smut smut #my desk #my writing #but entirely jay's hc

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empressxmachina · 6 years ago

Photo

Endgame - 1. Played

(on Wattpad) | (on DeviantArt) Cover made with Adobe Spark. No relation to the Avengers movie.

"It was like when you make a move in chess and just as you take your finger off the piece, you see the mistake you've made, and there's this panic because you don't know yet the scale of disaster you've left yourself open to." ― Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

"I've got to say, Freya. For someone who has only learned how to play this game fairly recently, you sure do put up quite a fight."

"Yeah... How about no, Ren? I don't think 'fight' is the word if I can never win... or even get past a certain point *gasp* like I've just done again. Damn it!"

Ren, Freya's current game opponent and best friend for a handful of years, couldn't help but chuckle at her repeated rookie mistake on the game board and her frustration. As routine as the failures were, he also couldn't help but be proud of her for finally realizing that at a certain point – the only he always somehow got her to reach – there was only one way for the game to go from there. It allowed him to win every time they played that game of rivaling kingdoms. Lucky for him, it was just a game because Ren was sure Freya would win in a battle of blood.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Frey," he tried to comfort her. "You're technically still learning. Besides, up to this terrible move of yours, you took some stances that I have never seen before. Quite impressive."

"Yeah, yeah,” she huffed. “But it's no fun if I can never win."

"Maybe one day, girl," he replied, making his next move toward victory. “Maybe one day.”

"At this rate, I'm seriously doubting that idea. I just play along until you lock me in, and I lose... again.”

Ren could empathize with her, remembering the years it took for him to win his first game legitimately. In fact, it was about the same number as Freya had been learning from him. So, it was only a matter of time before shit got real. But for now, he enjoyed his moments of awaiting victory and sympathizing for his favorite friend in her laments, like the antagonizing question she threw after groaning to herself,

“How did you even learn about this game?"

"I told you," he said, patiently waiting for a move from his lady friend, who seemed like she wasn't going to cooperate at all. “My family taught me, mostly my father. Everyone in the family is trained from the start to become a master Caissa player."

"Sure, they were," Freya responded, disbelieving. "But, how did they learn it? Did your ancestors or whatever get it from traveling somewhere, or what?” Ren hadn’t a clue how to react to the inquiry. It was nothing deep in his eyes – just a game – yet she made it sound like a crime. “No matter how many times you say it, I'm not going to believe that you just learned it from 'family back in Lucia.'"

Ren fought back, hand over his heart. "But... but I did! That's where they're from; it’s where I live!"

"Oh, is it? Is it really? That's not what anyone over there said."

"’Anyone over there?’ What does that—?” A simple pause was enough to get all of Ren’s mental cogs running on overdrive, and they weren’t powering anything good. “You went to Lucia? Alone!?"

Ren couldn't believe that. Her going to his hometown without some kind of entry permit would be, well, knowing his 'neighbors', probably fatal for someone like her. Anyone at all going in uninvited is bad. But if he questioned her ways in, he'd look suspicious, and he knew it. He was just glad that she wasn't killed or something.

"Well, yeah,” Freya casually confirmed. “You always talk about the ups and downs of your family, and you’ve met mine. I wanted to meet yours, so I searched, whether you wanted me to or not."

Hearing such statements sent a chill up Ren's spine. While it may have been his family she was looking for and not some real adversary, even he was still intimidated by them, from time to time. He couldn’t imagine bringing a girl like her home, as just a friend or otherwise.

His apprehension and general discomfort toward her seemingly unwelcome visit didn’t go unnoticed by Freya. Ren was naïve or simply brought up differently, especially if his Caissa knowledge proved anything. But being secretive, all the while fearful about the withheld, was new. It was all in his face, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like not learning about his home more, but at least she could sort of kill two birds with one stone.

"Luckily for you, I wasn’t so lucky,” she detailed, hoping to relax him back to cockiness. “When I went over there one day after work and asked around, no one had even heard of you. I only found, like, three girls of a similar name, but none of them knew of a 'young adult male named Ren with an R.'"

Her anecdote didn’t end there, as much as it could have. She continued, telling different tactics and pathways she took to try and mark every Lucian citizen in her sight. Meanwhile, Ren absorbed her story, growing more in confusion with every word. Such logic, despite being brilliantly thorough, made no sense to him. It wouldn’t have been necessary in order to lock him down. Though, with him being pinned, she probably would’ve been, too, magnifying his worries.

It just wasn’t right, and it didn’t take long for him how true that was. He remembered the kind of person Freya was, in more ways than one. She may have done things differently than him with different looks and upbringing, but, with the exception of Caissa, she was rarely wrong.

She couldn't possibly have been speaking of his Lucia.

Using bits and pieces of his geography lessons from days of old, he figured out what her Lucia was: a quaint district not too far from where they were. He had surprisingly completely disregarded the possibility of cities and towns sharing names across regions, disappointing himself. However, he didn't sulk about it for too long, both understanding that he couldn't leave Freya hanging in silence any longer without looking strange and relieved of the reality.

"Uh, I guess they were all being protective of me or something," he lied, feigning a confident chuckle. "My family does try to be as private as possible."

As bad as he has felt, keeping such a large part of his life away from her, he knew that his family would have to come at a later date. He just couldn't do it himself, not yet. Though, with the latter half of his reply technically being a fact, his conscience could rest slightly easier.

"I guess that's understandable," Freya answered back, trying to be fair about the situation yet still cautious. "Though, I would like to meet them one day. Can you promise me that?"

Ren relaxed at her calmness and nodded, guaranteeing it.

"Good,” Freya smiled. A deep breath followed, dispensing all bad vibes into the air before getting walloped by the inevitable laid out in front of her. “This isn’t though, except for you,” she sighed, referring back to the pending game. “I might as well finish this before I—”

"Um, Freya?" someone called from a distance, stopping her hovering hand from moving the game piece now in it. She and Ren looked to their sides through the nighttime darkness outside to eventually find the almost blinding source: Freya's mother Miriam calling on top of the hill behind her home, with only her silhouette being visible in a nearby lantern's light. "C-Can you come here for a second?"

"Coming, Mother," Freya called back with a sigh. "Sorry, Ren. Mother calls. I'll be right back."

"Do what you've got to do, girl," Ren smiled back. "I have to rub this win in your face, so don't take too long.” Freya playfully stuck her tongue out in response, before running off to her mother.

Ren watched her disappear and waited for her return, breathing in the crisp, sweet air that he still wasn’t used to experiencing. It wasn’t like he was a hermit or homebody; he spent more than enough time out of the house. In fact, he wouldn’t dare put money on guessing whether he spent more time with Freya and her big family or his own. Not that it really mattered since both made him happy and he had reached adult age a while ago, the suspected truth, whatever it was, would probably make him sad in some way or another. In an attempt to prevent troublesome calculations, Ren inhaled deeply, clearing his mind and lungs for sweeter sensations.

The Müller lands, the property that Freya’s namesake family owned, was as vast as they were numerous. Considering that matriarch Miriam managed to pop out nine over several decades and not look it, there was more than enough space for multiplying a multitude. Bordered by trees on side and back. A crisp water source deeper in the woods. Solid cropland and beautiful garden stretched further down and at the foot of the hill past Ren’s feet. It was beautiful to observe.

The roads, though invisible from his view, were empty most of the time whenever he was around. The fields beyond seemed to be clear most days, too. However, with both of their vastness, it was more than obvious that he and the family weren’t the only souls to traverse them. If one didn’t look to the width of the road for proof, then one could look to the current Caissa table. A table that looked a lot like a spool for yarn. Sure, it could’ve been for rope – the animals not too far away gave a reason for rope – but it definitely looked more like yarn that’d be way too thick for humans to wear comfortably.

Yet, at this place, it was always just him and the family that practically adopted him and no one to suggest anything else.

Despite the different appearances and names of places, the skies, grounds, and air were the same, no matter where across the bounds of Zronis or all around Eylea he walked, swam, etc. Eylea was still that same rock just distant enough from the sun to give him life. The moon and stars, including said sun, above still shined on its surface. The oceans still ebbed and flowed along the coasts. Yet, even with those constants, there was something about being there compared to Ren’s home that was different. Different but special, comforting, and so many other good things. It brought a smile to his face. He didn’t want to leave.

He didn’t want to leave until he saw something out the corner of his eye, and that wish of less homey loneliness vanished.

A shadowy figure began to appear through the bordering forestry. Ren slowly turned his head toward the shape to see two glowing beacons appear near its top, staring right at him. At first, he figured it was just an animal that he could easily fight off. A night fight would put him at less of an advantage than usual, but it should’ve been fine. It would’ve been fine. However, as the shadow then grew to unfathomable heights above the darkened greenery and began to charge for him, his confidence dropped.

Rumbles in the ground grew as the being quickly approached, definitely going for him rather than his best friend or her mother, just as quickly letting Ren know that continuing to sit there was probably going to be a mistake. Before any other instincts could tell him otherwise, he was jumping off his wooden stool and sprinting off to anywhere but the house, with adrenaline and escaping being his only focuses. Them and whatever the Müller women were doing in, hopefully, more safety than him.

***

After a longer time than necessary – leaving Ren proved more unwanted than imagined – Freya finally reached her mother who looked beyond frazzled out of her skin.

"Mother?” she worried, curling her arms into herself like she didn’t know what to do. A fitting move, it was, considering she really didn’t. “What's wrong?"

"There is, um... a man at the door," she replied in a forceful whisper, still shaken up, pulling her daughter around the side of the house to the front area.

The statement injected Freya with a flurry of confusion. The words. The delivery. The suddenness. It all was obvious in her response back. “Oh, really?” A single but strong nod was the reply: a sign of stress. Her mother never got that flustered unless she thought about one thing, and Freya, being the only one who could empathize the most if not more with her, had to ask. “Did you finally find a special someone?”

Freya went in with risk, with most of the odds out of her favor, but the look Miriam returned could kill her, making her regret the move immediately.

“Uh, I-I’ll take that… a-as a no?”

Miriam’s look was fierce, but, as usual, her heart was soft, and she couldn’t hold such hardness for too long. Not when her baby looked so close to bursting to tears at her nearly burst a vein.

"I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she apologized, shaking the anger out her system and working out her kinks. Her cherry of a face blanched to his normally pale porcelain as she finger-combed her blonde locks. Some of their flaxen hues were definitely passed to her daughter, culminating into Freya’s semi-brown tresses, but she couldn’t claim much else about the rest of her hair qualities. The occasional fits she had with others about their blood connection being legitimate due to their other visual differences, too - Freya's tan skin and big lips, to name a few - weren’t fun, but she’d deal with those troubles any day. For her. For any of her spawn. They were more than worth the fight.

As for this, maybe it wasn’t.

“I just—” Miriam struggled to find the words. “Now’s really not the time to get in that kind of headspace, not with… him here.” She wouldn’t be able to handle losing again.

Freya sighed in disbelief. “Damn, Mother. What the fuck did he do to you?”

“He…” Miriam quickly ran her hands down her face before continuing. “He asked me some things that, well, seem quite nonsensical. But I am not going to be the one to combat his queries… or anything else about him."

"Oh, come on. There shouldn't be any guy to make you afraid to speak your mi—” As her frame entered the light of the home’s front lanterns, Freya’s previously confident self instantly went quiet at the sight of their house guest.

Her eyes slowly ascended to meet the man's eerily glistening, glass-shielded ones that shifted to look down at them from high above, each one appearing almost as large as her head. Their high altitude was enough to describe his immense size, compared to their own. But with the glows from light by the door shining onto him, illuminating his fancy uniform and his kneeling position on some kind of regal towel, they knew he was even larger than how he currently appeared, in both size and status.

If that wasn't enough, then the large horse-drawn carriage with gold detailing, flags, and a volume that dwarfed their stone cottage was. Though, since his sizeable, slightly wrinkled, salt and pepper self basically did that, too, on his own, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.

Obviously, he wasn’t human. Not even close.

Freya flashed a flurry of questions to herself in her head before shaking it off. As much as she didn’t want to, it was time for hostile hospitality. Upon finally speaking to induce it, however, appearing even more like a necessity than a choice, she couldn’t help but wheeze.

"G-Good evening, sir,” she politely greeted the enormous official with a slight curtsy. “What brings you to our little village at such an hour?" Freya never liked using such wording to describe human things to 'those of larger life', considering how they tended to interpret them. But it was better for her to say it rather than someone else to laugh it out at her... again.

Or, worse.

"Greetings, ladies," the Drac greeted back, tipping his head politely to both women. Directing himself toward Miriam, he then inferred, "May I assume that this is your daughter, ma’am?"

She slowly nodded in agreement – a look Freya was sure hid intense fear – to which the giant responded with a soft smile,

"Splendid, and she looks around his age, too."

The catalog of queries never stopped running in Freya’s head, but that comment brought it to a brief halt. "Uh, his?" she called up to him.

"Why, yes, 'his'. His Royal Highness. You see, I am Arden Gilliam, Lord-in-Waiting to His Royal Majesty." The mother-daughter duo looked at each other, shrugging in confusion before he continued. "Really? You, humans, aren't even a bit aware of the Drachian kingdom through these woods? Surely, neither of you are field hands, but I can understand if traversing through these woodlands to the wall would be a treacherous feat for you..."

The ladies listened to the lord's mumbles with hidden annoyance, though it was a more difficult task for Freya than her 'more experienced' mother. They had no authority to clarify or talk to a Drac, according to law, above all one in the royal circle, which the younger human hated with a passion. So, they just waited until there was a bit of silence before continuing the conversation.

"Sir... Arden, is it?" Freya started, making note of his lord status. "We are quite knowledgeable of the royals; however, your point to these descriptions is fleeting. We are nothing close to House Maddox, King Ruben, the prince, and the like. Why are you here?"

Arden was taken aback by the miniature miss’s sharp tone and questionable phrasing. Miriam was, too, but she chose to bite her tongue until they were alone. If they didn’t die by Arden’s hand first. Or, foot. Anything of his, really. It wouldn’t be difficult to do if they didn’t see it coming.

The Drachian lord had half of a mind to curse the little young lady’s lips and her moves to freely flap them, but he put the thoughts aside, figuring that she was attempting to speak professionally to him: a breath of fresh air, compared to the usual silence from humans he received... in the cases when he didn't order for it, that is.

"Right. Well, excuse me for causing a tangent," he apologized somewhat flatly. "Coming out to Sresa, let alone anywhere in the Outer Crescent, was the last thing I expected to do, but here I am, and, to anyone else, here is where my being here will stay.”

In the brief duration Arden took to pause, Freya looked passed him and his carriage down the road into the forests and toward mainland Zronis. Technically, she in Sresa was on the mainland, too, not even close to the shore. But, as they were in the Outer Crescent, there were still those two incomprehensible walls that kept her and any human as far as she knew distant from the capital and kingdom. Mille in the center and Olla that edged the Crescent, then the colossal coppice that stretched to the Müllers’ door and beyond. There was so much space, both to Olla alone and to the capital where Arden presumably lived. It was more than flustering to wonder why any Drac would be here.

To elsewhere in the Crescent, sure. At other times of day, sure. But here and now, specifically, was a conundrum to solve.

With a clearing of his throat, Arden regained Freya’s focus and commenced that explanation,

“I and others of the Royal Household are here in search for the prince. While he’s generally given free roam that he may spend in his lonesome, those durations in solitude usually end before sundown every day. As we all can see, the moon has risen, and we’ve grown tired of being unaware, no matter the time. This is something of which we do not approve."

"It is fairly late out, sir," Miriam agreed, looking up to the indigo-to-black gradient skies, more so to stay on the large lord's good side. "However, does His Royal Majesty not have trust in his son's return?"

"His return is not the concern," he hissed tersely before composing his pop of fury with more slow breathing.

As he calmed, Arden moved back slightly in order to lean down and look his watchers directly in the eye at their level. Of course, they defensively retreated, too, and the lord noticed in turn. But they, as people, were not his focus at the moment. If they were, then Freya’s hang-up on his usage of ‘we’, despite him being alone, would’ve been obvious.

On the other hand, they could see the lord's face in clear light now, showing how he had to be near middle-aged if not already there or over, not far in age from Miriam, if at all. Being overpowered by a possibly younger soul sent a quick splash of sickness down the mother’s throat.

Once he settled into his new pose, like a child examining a new set of figures with their heads to his irises, he resumed. "It is a thankfully assured fact that Prince Silas always returns back to the Palace when he’s needed. It is his ways of leaving and this repeated routine of his that bother us. We are unsure of his destinations with every travel, on top of how he has been drifting out of sight like this for years on end."

"Aren't you all supposed to have eyes on His Royal Highness at all time?" Freya assumed with crossed arms, intrigued by the prince's stealth. "How do you just lose him, and why would he be here, of all places?"

"Little girl, we do not 'just lose him!'" Arden jeered through grating teeth. Freya was really starting to rub him the wrong way, and everyone there knew it. While Miriam nudged her daughter's side to try to put her back in check, Freya was pleased with the man-mountain's obvious bother. "Thanks to some frequenting to an alchemist under our noses, he’s purchased elixirs that make him hidden to any device that we have, including a certain 'diminishing' type."

Freya challenged the thought. "’Diminishing’, like what?"

"’Diminishing’, as in reducing his size to assimilate and disappear within the human population, as if he was one of their own." With that, the human duo gasped in shock. That was greatly unexpected, even for a rebellious royal. Their expressions lightened the giant's mood. "As for being here, this is just where we're looking tonight. So, not only is our arrival right now a survey of the area, but it is also a warning. In case our search comes up short, we may have to pass through here to go forward in the future."

With all of his repeated first-person plurals and plural possessives, Freya was almost at her wit’s end, trying to understand who else this noble behemoth was referencing aside from himself. As much as she knew her mother would be against it, Freya didn’t feel like she had much to lose from asking. However, the question was answered for itself before she could manage a mutter.

"Arden!" another masculine but even huskier voice soon barked from afar. A bark that bellowed through both humans’ cores, despite being out of sight. The heavens knew what it did to Ren and his usually off-kilter self. "The Royal Runt has been obtained."

The sounds of crushing dirt and grass increased as Arden rose to face the approaching giant – a much girthier and hairier man whose look screamed machismo encased in uniformed elegance – with a palm out ready to receive something.

"Luckily, you two and no one else in the vicinity will have to worry about that," he regarded, now towering above the diminutive twosome. "Ah. Thank you, Bertram,” he then acknowledged his peer. “I'm sure that retrieving our little boy couldn't have been too hard. In fact, I believe that this is a new catching record for you, even if the other times were with pets and pests."

"Hey, I’m caught up in tenser situations on the inside than you are," Bertram Wintsch, representative voice of the king, spoke, almost defensively. "Whenever I can do some sporting in the fresh air, especially if it’s for work, I will not pass it up. I never thought I would ever be doing it for our boy, though. Literally." The Drachian duo shared a laugh as the marshal, Bertram’s technical title, retrieved the relatively tiny, supposed Prince from a coat pocket to pass him along to his cohort in the Royal Court. "He did pretty well to constantly slip in and out of the capital for five years,” Bertram snickered, both fatherly humored and enraged to no bound. “Many adventures were definitely had, huh, boy?"

The bitty boy gained his balance on top of Arden’s gloved palm, looking quite doll-like in comparison. However, unlike his high status, he stood unconfidently in silence, head down with face out of sight of everyone. The humans below had heard rumors of the Royals being highly blessed in the aesthetics department, so they were very curious to take a look at the prince.

Looking past the appalling appearance of relative weakness, they were already surprised at how plainly he was dressed, even if it was just a costume. It looked like something the men in their family would wear. Yet, it looked even more familiar than that.

Almost too familiar.

“Your Highness,” Arden sighed, sharply cutting the silence. “You are going to have to deal with this, sooner or later, so you might as well deal with it now.” But the prince stayed sheepish, aggravating his court. Freya was shocked to find how that also included other Dracs she hadn’t considered: those that were returning from their searches in other directions to re-enter the carriage. Miriam’s silence on that subject certainly wasn’t So, Arden increased the passion, using both voice and an outstretched battering ram of a finger to his ribs. “Silas Lauren Maddox, you will answer me at once!”

The voice shook many of the flora in close proximity and nearly knocked Freya and Miriam to the ground, but they all kept their bearings. The prince, in fear, rapidly shot up his head to face the giants, and Freya could immediately see a familiar face and body in the moonlight. She knew that fair-skinned, dark-eyed brunette with the toned physique anywhere.

“What? What!? What am I supposed to say!?” the puny prince cried out, sending an equally familiar voice to Freya’s ears as well. She could not believe this. It had to be a dream.

“Do you know how dangerous this is?” Bertram interrogated. “Do you have any idea how the kingdom would look if anyone found out about your antics – how detrimental this would be, knowing the prince is trying to mix in with the humans?”

“I wasn’t trying to—!”

“And, don’t even get me started with the legality of the situation!”

“Easy, Bertram,” Arden cooed. “Let’s not forget about the risks toward his safety as well. I’m pretty positive that if His Majesty found his son in harm, he’d be sent in a tizzy that would knock the whole Kingdom off its course.” The young royal bit his lower lip, cringing at how true that would be. “Silas, what were you thinking?” Arden expressed, genuinely concerned. “Was all of this really necessary for freedom?”

“I… I…” He turned his head down toward Freya, hoping for support, and he couldn’t take the disappointed, testing expression on her face. He didn’t know what to say. He was simply defeated. “I don’t know.”

The two Dracs, on the other hand, saw his look toward the ladies and began making assumptions.

“Did either of you two know of His Highness’ travels out here?” Bertram inquired with force. Miriam immediately denied the idea, but Freya stayed stoic, with mouth agape. “What about you, young one?” he then directed toward her. “Have you encountered Prince Silas out here at any time before today?”

Freya looked at the two living towers before taking a glance at Ren. As much as he was Silas, it was going to take a lot of work for him to not be the Ren she knew. Or, thought she knew. But that process had already started upon realizing the truth, thus she blankly responded to the marshal,

“No, sir. I had never seen him before in my life.”

The prince’s eyes widened at her words, confused, shocked, and brutally disheartened at her answer. But he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to get her in trouble, so he played along. Her addendums to keep up that façade didn’t make it any easier, though.

“I don’t believe he should have any reason to be out here at all,” Freya determined, almost too defensively to not be offensive at the same time. However, the prince knew she had a way with words, and with her crossed arms and low-key scowl, who knows how unlikely the latter really was? “After all, we are still kept apart for a reason, yes?”

Just like the prince, the giants couldn’t believe what they were hearing. But, unlike him, they couldn’t have been more pleased with her perspectives.

“Now, that is something you don’t see every day: a human sharing our point of view,” Bertram said with a smirk. “Isn’t that right, Arden?”

Arden wholeheartedly agreed, adjusting his glasses to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating it. “You’re very right, Bertram. You are certainly one in a million, young miss. We need more ladies as intelligent as you—no, more people as intelligent as you.”

Freya responded to their comments with a seemingly appreciative curtsy, but their words still stung deeply. All of their high class and high height couldn’t hide their smugness.

“Thank you, sirs,” the feisty female returned, maintaining her feigned appreciation. But she couldn’t and wasn’t going to do it for long. “Now, as you’ve already mentioned, the moon has risen, and I believe that it is time for us to retire for the evening and to put…” She quickly shot a look at her liar of a ‘friend’. “…everything behind us. I’m glad that my mother and I could be of assistance, but I’d say our time together is quickly coming to a close. Wouldn’t you?”

Ren had so much he wanted to say to her, to explain why he concealed so much of himself; however, no words would escape his lips, and his sadness went unnoticed.

“I could not agree more,” Arden smiled. “And with that, we all of the kingdom wish you many thanks for your hospitality during our recovery of our sweet Silas. Take care, ladies.”

With a shared bow of the head from all except His Royal Highness, the prince was repacked into a pocket, and the Dracs retreated to their carriage, shaking the ground as it turned and took off on its way, presumably back to the palace. As it went, it dragged Ren’s lingering look of panic – the rapid one from his involuntary re-pouching and the ongoing one from Freya’s ultimate denial of him.

Well, Freya felt it lingering. She couldn’t say the same for her mother.

The diminutive damsels stayed outside watching the vehicle shrink into the distance until it popped out of view. Miriam was the first to comment on the evening, surprisingly cheery, given her first impression of the guests.

“Oh, Freya, can you believe it!?” she fawned. “The Drachian prince… hidden as a human out here? Oh, it’s a fairy tale in the making!”

Overcome with too many emotions to count, her daughter spat back. “Fairy tales are nothing but lies.”

“Freya Tove, I know you have your… opinions of the taller personas, as you absolutely should, but you did not have to be so obvious about it. You’re lucky they didn’t… k-kill you on the spot!” The waver, in its silence, brought more meaning to Miriam’s reasonable warning. She had every right to be paranoid. Freya knew that too well.

The flashbacks were too real.

“I just can’t believe this! He’s—!” To say Freya was mad would’ve been the understatement of the century if not the millennium. “Fuck, that fucking liar! He’s not from local Lucia. He’s from big ass Lucia!” Lucia: the fittingly ginormous Drachian capital kingdom city in the central, even bigger district of Acrya. Lucia: past Olla and entrapped by Mille, wherein lied the head courthouses that rarely if ever tested her fate, the top legislative buildings that always did, and the main palace that held the royal family. Those of Ren’s blood. Ren himself.

Silas Lauren Maddox. Ren. Lauren. Lauren. It was right in front of her. His face and his title were rarely joined together in her neck of the woods, but he looked enough like his father that she could definitively recognize on sight for a relation to be questioned. It was so obvious all this time that it wasn’t at all.

“God damn it, why didn’t I figure this out earlier!? UGH!”

Miriam, while highly experienced with childish tantrums, had never seen such fury ignite from her only daughter, let alone any of her children. Yes, she was surprised to learn such a truth, but it didn’t hit her as hard. Not much did anymore. Nonetheless, watching Freya as she stormed into the house and flopped onto her bed, slamming every door along the way, still broke her heart.

“Freya, please,” she pleaded outside her door, trying to knock it open. “You’re upset, yes, but locking yourself up won’t help anything.”

“It’ll keep me farther from the problem. That’s for sure!” she fought, with her head stuck in the bed covers.

“But… But you haven’t even had any dinner! We can talk about this over a nice stew, a salad… or even a cake. We’ll just skip dinner altogether and go right to dessert! Sugar to sweeten the soul, okay?” Miriam pressed her ear to the door for a response. Only huffing got back to her, but that wasn’t a no. “It’ll just be an hour or so, and the boys will be back by then. Promise me that you’ll come.”

Freya knew her mother wouldn’t give up until she complied. Plus, having some cake would be a nice temporary pillow for her problems. It surely would solve her issue with her now ex-friend, but it would be better than talking. So, it was to no one’s surprise when she replied,

“That cake better be fucking amazing.”

Miriam laughed at her daughter, pleased to be able to poke one joke out of her for the time being. She knew that it wouldn’t be the end, and that mouth of hers would need some tweaking, but a chat over treats would be a soft start to the finish.

#g/t #my writing #giant male #sm #sw #endgame #no relation to the avengers #it'll basically be cinderella but bad

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Stewart Copeland on How The Police Found Synchronicity Under the Volcano

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Gracie Otto’s documentary Under the Volcano tells the story of a rock star paradise which became a modern Atlantis. Air Studios Montserrat, the recording studio built by The Beatles’ producer George Martin in 1979, captured the truest sounds of the biggest musical acts of the 1980s before it succumbed to the island’s natural disasters. Custom-built in the shadow of the active Soufrière Hills volcano, AIR generated its own heat. Songs recorded at the studio burned up the charts, and reinvigorated burnt out artists.

Paul McCartney retreated to the remote musical getaway shortly after receiving the devastating news about the murder of John Lennon. Paul recorded Tug of War, one of his best post-Beatle works there, as well as Pipes of Peace. He flew in Stevie Wonder, who jammed at a local club until the early hours, for harmonic collaboration. The Rolling Stones reunited to record Steel Wheels, bringing Keith Richards together with Mick Jagger for the first time since their respective solo recordings. The Police took a different direction.

Formed in London in 1977, The Police rode the punk wave to international fame and the pressures of delivering on their musical promise. With Sting on lead vocals and bass guitar, Andy Summers on guitar, and Stewart Copeland on drums, this was not a three-chord, minimalist-mode trio. Merging rock changes, reggae-downbeats, and jazz-chord augmentations, they needed space to expand their reach.

To record Ghost in the Machine, they also wanted to be out of reach of record company suits. They went to Montserrat for the isolation, not only from the pop world, but for each individual track recorded. The studio afforded amazing separation. The band didn’t even have to be in the same room while recording at the same time. Stewart wound up playing drums in a dining room.

The Police was Copeland’s band, Sting was just in it. Much like the era’s tabloids would’ve had us believe it was Sting’s world and we just lived here. Stewart founded the band, wrote its manifesto, and is still deranging its sonic possibilities. He spoke with Den of Geek about the documentary Under the Volcano, and how The Police lost and found Synchronicity at George Martin’s AIR Studios Montserrat,

Den of Geek: I was just talking to a drummer friend who left a band we were in to play in a Police cover band. He wanted me to ask about how you approach the drums.

Stewart Copeland: Usually from behind, which sounds really weird, actually. Let me rephrase that.

Did George Martin ever actually say anything about Andy dancing on the soundboard?

Not that I ever heard. In fact, I did a concert with him many years later and it didn’t come up. In fact, I did a television interview with him, a documentary about music that he was making and it didn’t come up. By the way, no damage was done. Those things are built to withstand heavy metal bands. And Andy’s only little. He had very sure footing. Didn’t break anything. And by the way, I’ve seen that console, that exact same console. I’ve seen it at the A&M #1 studio in Los Angeles. I’ve seen it in several other studios that claim that “that is the Neve [Electronics, which made the mixing console] upon which Andy danced.”

I also watched Jools Holland’s short film on the Police at Montserrat film from ’81. I wanted to know about “underwater golfing” and all the other non-musical pastimes that were available.

Sting and Andy probably went underwater golfing a lot, but they never invited me, damn it.

Was Montserrat really the ultimate in rockstar privilege?

Yes, you could say that. Absolutely. There were a lot of rock and roll diversions that are available in Cleveland that are not available on the island. But as far as the paradisiacal environment, absolutely; and being waited on hand and foot. Great food, great situation. I think in the documentary, they mentioned how some bands kind of just hit the swimming pool deck chairs and never woke up and were half asleep. We weren’t because we tormented each other so fiercely that we were fully awake.

I know that you sent Andy Summers to ask George Martin about producing, but did he ever pop in while you were in the studio?

No. He popped over once or twice for dinner, studiously avoiding any moments that we might be working so that he wouldn’t be roped in.

I guess maybe he learned a thing or two in producing all the music that he produced. And one of the things he learned is to not get between rabid dogs who are trying to tear each other’s throats out.

Would Synchronicity have sounded any different if you weren’t at odds with each other at the time?

It’s hard to say. If we had arrived at our decision points or the forks in the road, should we do this or should we do that? You know, saxophone solo or guitar solo? Punk version or reggae version? Other stuff, you know. If we had approached these debates more congenially, would we have arrived at a different result? Probably not. And I guess we’re all happy at the end of the day. The experience of making those records was very rigorous, but at the end of the day, we all appreciate the result.

You worked with George Martin on the ’99 Hollywood Bowl Orchestra Beatles show. What was he like to work with?

Excellent. It mainly was working with his son [Giles Martin], his consiglieri, who’s also interviewed in the documentary. But working with him, he’s just a profoundly musical man. Music is what he knows, does, and he makes it very clear what’s needed, what everybody should do.

It was a strange thing. He rehearsed for three days for that show and the first day the word went out and I was the only person who showed up, me and my bass player buddy, Armand [Sabal-Lecco]. So, we learned the material. By the third day, everybody had showed up. Every guitarist in town, everybody, but I was already planted on the drums so everyone else can piss off.

But on guitar, all these session guys had every- who doesn’t know exactly the patch and the fingering of every single Beatles lick? And it was kind of interesting to hear everybody completely nail it in their different kinds of ways. And also on the drums, I was never that big a Beatles fan, but when I sort of made my own tape of the proposed songs. He sent a set list and I started playing [Sings opening of “I Want To Hold Your Hand”].

I mean, I knew it. My hands knew it. My body knew the song without my brain ever thinking about how the song goes. You just know when the chorus is coming. Yep, this is the chorus. [Sings]. But you know, it’s musical muscle memory, and don’t even get me started on the connection between memory and music.

I recently did a piece on the Concert for Bangladesh and I watched Ringo and Jim Keltner double up and play in unison. I watched the video of you and Ginger Baker playing off each other. Have you ever played in unison with another drummer and who would you like to do that with?

It’s a very strange exercise. Non-drummers seem to think it’s a good idea, and I won’t mention any names, I don’t get it. Guitarists hate to have another guitarist plugged in, God damn it, you know.

Drummers love other percussion. Bongos, shakers, tambourines, you name it, bring it on. Let’s have everybody smacking something. But two drum sets? That don’t make it sound fatter. They don’t really complement each other. My preference would be a drummer, but not in a drum set, doing something else. Like the contrast that fulfills a different function. I don’t really get the two-drummer thing.

Do you still consciously count when you’re drumming?

Yes. When learning something, I count it out, figure out what it is, but then once I’ve learned it, I don’t count it anymore. I just know it. But yes, sometimes when things are tricky and you actually need to hit a certain hit because that’s what everything else is doing. Yes. It helps to count it out. “Ah, that’s where it is. It’s the end of three,” you know? And then once you’ve got that, you don’t need to refer to the numbers anymore. That’s just to find it.

I subscribe to you on YouTube, and just this morning got an email blast about Police Deranged for Orchestra.

That is going to be a blast. That is going to be the most fun show ever. I’ve got Armand Sabal-Lecco on bass, Rusty Anderson on guitar. His day job is playing with Paul McCartney as it happens. He’s been doing that for 20 years or so. Armand from Cameroon, the Prince of Cameroon is a monster.

Moving up the hierarchy, the three singers, they’ve got three soul sisters on the mic singing the songs, but behind us is the mighty San Diego Symphony in San Diego. And when we get to Cleveland, it’s a mighty Cleveland Orchestra.

And then we’re playing in Atlanta, Buffalo, Nashville, L.A., and it’s really, it’s pretty exciting. I spent a lot of time creating the orchestral arrangements or derangements and some of the songs are quite faithful with the form, but others, I deranged.

There are two things. Why orchestra? I’m the drummer in a rock band? What am I doing in the orchestra? That’s a long story. With 20 years as the film composer, I had a forced education in orchestration. But why deranged is because back in the day I had a Super 8 camera, a film camera, and I shot all the stuff, the whole rise, and then put it in shoe boxes and forgot about it until they invented computers and hard drives and Final Cut Pro.

And I had a moment, I was busy making little movies of my children and I thought, “Wait a minute. I’ve got boxes and boxes of really cool stuff of the rollercoaster ride, the rocket ship of The Police.”

So, I dug it all out, 52 hours, and made a movie. And it was kind of the home movie from hell. But somebody persuaded me to send it to the Sundance and the Sundance was, “Whoa, bring it on over.” And they invited me to participate in the festival. Oh, darn. I had to finish it and make it.

It ends up I sold it to Showtime and it became a feature film for which I needed music, preferably Police music. However, what I learned in film in my 20 years before the masters, the hired gun, is that music must serve the picture. And if the picture takes a left, so must the music.

However, those original Police recordings didn’t take a left. They carried right on because they had some other agenda, mainly being a song. So, I had to cut the stuff up and I had to go back into the masters. But once the scalpel was out, this is fun. I got all the masters of those recordings, as well as live recordings. I found long lost guitar solos, other lyrics.

And I found that Sting’s songwriting was quite modular, so I could take the lyrics of this song, put them on the riff of that song. And I went a little batshit crazy on the whole enterprise and kind of overdid it. And when my colleagues heard, “What is Stewart doing? He’s over there taking our master tapes and cutting entirely new music?”

“Calm down guys. It’s just for the movie.” And so, they calmed down and I think they actually kind of appreciated the result at the end of the day, as long as I’m not trying to make a record and rewrite Police history. But now I am rewriting Police history. By taking those derangements, those weird arrangements where I found all these different melodies and guitar lines and put them in the orchestra, that’s what we’re doing.

About half the material is the original song, and I did make the orchestra do very cool stuff with it. But the other half are these different versions of songs, different melodies and so on. With the three women singing, I get to get all of the Sting harmonies that he did in the studio, as well as the improvisations he did on stage, and the same with Andy.

This exercise has really reminded me, in fact, even more than reminded me: it’s really woken me up to the genius of both of those two guys, the stuff they came up with. I was busy banging shit. I hardly even noticed what Andy was doing, but now I’m deep into what Andy was doing with a much higher degree of appreciation.

As you’re developing all of this for orchestration and ripping it apart, and also with the benefit of knowing how each of you developed post-Police, where do you think the band might’ve gone musically as a continuing unit?

Just the other day, pursuant to flogging the Police Deranged orchestra shows, and I’m sort of looking for images to use for posters, I came across the orchestral performance that I did in Germany, where I’m actually on the podium conducting. We did do “The Equalizer” theme and I’m conducting with a drumstick. The orchestra are all totally, you can see in the picture, they’re all leaning forward. They’re really into it, it’s a really intense thing. And I’m up there waving my stick and it’s this big ass orchestra.

I sent it to Sting a couple of days ago. And I said, “This is how we should have run The Police.” And he wrote back and he said, “So I’m second fiddle?” To which I responded, “Stingo, you will always be first fiddle.”

Also, knowing all this stuff from the inside out with the notation and all that, how do you think The Police would go forward now as a creative unit moving into new territory?

Not so much because we know what we’re doing. And my humble estimation is we got two more albums out of Sting than we deserved. So, he actually was the reason I was overcome by homicidal rage and I felt the urgent necessity of throttling him was because he would come over and say, “Hey, do this or that with the drums.” “Fuck off.” You know?

What made it so urgent was that he wasn’t wrong. He sort of does actually know how to arrange a song and arrange the band and his ideas are pretty good. That doesn’t mean I listened because I was a young prick myself and I had my own ideas, which would prevail. But he’s really good at that stuff.

We, today, if we tried to recreate that, are too independently minded and we have continued to grow in the 30 years since our last collaboration and in a different direction. And at this point in our lives, music has a different function for us. For me, it’s this. The reason I make music is for these reasons, and this is what I like to achieve with music. And for others, they have a completely different agenda of what music is for and what it’s supposed to do and how it’s supposed to be made.

It requires more patience. I’m actually more patient. I would say that for me, there is not one musical truth, because I got beat up. For 20 years, I was told exactly what emotion is required. And I had to learn to create exactly that for my boss, the director who is actually the artist. I’m just a craftsman.

So, I learned to be very malleable but also didn’t really understand how to work different emotions very specifically. Other members of the band who have never suffered under the lash of cruel employment are unrestrained, and have a strange idea that there is only one musical truth and no experience in life has ever shaken that core belief. Which means that when I’ve got to deal with that mindset, it’s unrewarding.

And by the way, I say this with love and admiration in my heart, this is not a gripe, believe me. I’m just explaining why we enjoy each other’s company over dinner and really have a deep abiding admiration and love. But just we get into the studio together and we’re not copacetic.

Going on stage, by the way, playing those songs. That’s a different thing. That’s really exciting because of the emotional charge that it has on an 80,000 people stadium, well, that’s exciting. For the audience, that’s exciting. Never mind my ideas about what music is for. Who cares? Look at that audience going like that. That’s why I’m here on the planet.

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Under The Volcano is available On Demand and Digital now.

The post Stewart Copeland on How The Police Found Synchronicity Under the Volcano appeared first on Den of Geek.

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topherxhummel · 4 years ago

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we’re going to be friends → a self para

Who: Topher Hummel and with special guest appearances from some NPCs

Where: Multiple locations in Lima, Ohio or surrounding areas

When: This is over the course of a couple years. So. many. timeskips.

What: Just a bunch of friendship fluff with sprinkles of angst ‘cause why the hell not?

Warnings: Trigger warning for internalized homophobia, general warning for Topher rambling his ass off.

Junior Year at William McKinley - December

“Sup fuckers?” Topher called out in greeting as he entered the dressing room area through the door that opened into the student parking lot. “You’re late!” one of his drama club friends - Allison - responded as she carried props over to a table near the stage so they would be ready to go. “What the audience and Ms. Johnson don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he fired back with a laugh as he ducked into the boys’ dressing room to get changed. His costume rested on the nearest rack with ‘Topher Hummel - Fred’ written in Ms. Johnson’s neat handwriting. In a matter of minutes, he changed and reemerged in the main area, only to see the drama teacher herself walk in with someone he’d only seen a handful of times and only rarely interacted with, yet apparently never learned the name of. She cleared her throat to grab everyone’s attention and in a matter of moments, all eyes were on her. Well, her and the guy she’d brought along.

“For those who don’t know him, this is Shane. He’s going to help out with stage makeup tonight and tomorrow because I know there are plenty of first-timers among us who might be a little confused,” she introduced him as a couple of cheers rose up. Probably from relieved crew members or people who knew Shane way better than Topher did. “Okay, female first-timers to stage makeup go with Allison. Male first-timers go with Shane.” Just like that, she disappeared to go attend to some more last-minute business and chaos descended again as people started to file into the dressing rooms once more.

It took a few minutes before Topher got to the front of the line, but once he did, recognition seemed to flicker on Shane’s face. “Holy shit,” he laughed as Topher settled in one of the chairs that had been pulled up to the mirrors. “Topher, right?” “That’s me. And you must be Shane. Nice to finally put a name to the face.” When a quizzical look appeared on the other’s face, it served as his cue to explain, “I’ve seen you with some of my friends at games and pep rallies over the years. Plus, Ms. Johnson literally just introduced you.“ Shane fondly rolled his eyes at the smartassery as he removed a clean brush from his bag of supplies then remarked, “Well, it’s nice that I’m the one who gets to put makeup all over the star soccer player’s face.” That got a chuckle out of Topher and in turn, Shane couldn’t help but chuckle along at his own (admittedly lame) quip. They shared a few more moments of banter as the latter worked his magic and told him what he was doing as well as what to use, just in case Topher returned to the drama club for another production.

Eventually, Topher had to leave so the sophomore playing Jacob Marley could be shown the ropes. But by then, they’d already exchanged phone numbers. Or to be more accurate used a Sharpie to write their respective numbers on the other’s arm. Thankfully, the Victorian-style clothing that Topher wore as his costume covered Shane’s number so it wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. What mattered most is that he knew it was there, that he had someone else in his life who was just a phone call or text away. A new potential friend.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Summer between Junior and Senior Year - June

He glanced up from his phone just in time to see Maia’s car pull up outside of Hummel Tires and Lube. Topher gave a slight wave to show that he saw her before he went to go find Burt. “Hey dad, I’m going to Columbus. Maia and company just pulled up.”

“Alright, call me when you get there and when you’re on your way back,” the elder Hummel replied before he pulled his youngest in for a hug. “Say hi to Maia and your friends for me.” “Will do,” Topher promised before he jogged outside to hop in the car. “Hey there beautiful,” he greeted Maia with a kiss as he set his backpack between his legs and tried to ignore the sour taste that lingered in his mouth, a reminder that he should have felt something, but didn’t.

“Hey babe,” Maia answered with a soft smile just before someone’s rolled up straw wrapper got tossed at the back of her head from the backseat. She and Topher both turned to look at Allison and Shane, who had ducked down just in time to pretend like they were immersed in their phones all along. “Which one of you threw that?” Just like that, the two pointed at each other. “I forgot that when they’re in the car, there’s a no kissing my boyfriend policy,” she chuckled.

“You’re making us singles feel like shit,” Allison fired back with a laugh, clearly just wanting to joke around. Laughter and equally light-hearted apologies filled the car as Maia got them on the road that would take them towards Columbus. “Okay, so you three have been holding out on me all week with where the everloving fuck we’re going,” Topher started. “Columbus,” the trio answered at the same time which made him shake his head in mock exasperation. If there was anything that all of his friends had in common no matter what, it was a smartass sense of humor. Just another bond that held them together like drama united himself and Allison or dance brought him and Maia together. Hell, he’d known of Shane, but officially met him through drama. “Look around, see if you can find any context clues,” the aforementioned male piped up.

So Topher glanced over at Maia to notice that she was wearing a tie-dyed dress colored with blue, purple, and pink. Allison’s shirt said something about how she didn’t come out of the closet, she came out of the cabinets like all of the other pans. Then Shane was wearing a simple white tank top that featured a rainbow in the center and that same rainbow was painted on both of his cheeks. (”A toned down look for a make up artist,” he’d say later. “But a look all the same.”) “Wow, I don’t know guys,” Topher joked even though he’d figured it out after he read Allison’s shirt a couple of times and was now just trying to swallow his panic. “Seems like we’re going to the pride thing in Columbus.”

Cheers rose up and he fondly shook his head at the trio. “He finally figured it out!” Shane proclaimed. “But we can always do something else, okay?” Maia offered. “Hell no. I’m going to be the most badass ally and there’s no place I’d rather be,” Topher promised. He could do that, be supportive of his girlfriend and friends. But all the same, the younger Hummel got wrapped up in his own train of thought during the rest of the ride. Even when someone put on a playlist full of songs to get the quartet pumped up for pride, even as he sang along, Topher’s mind always returned to the same old reminders. You’re not gay and even if you were, you can’t be. You’re supposed to marry Maia or some other equally great girl. Sure, the evidence is fucking overwhelming, but dude, you. are. not. really. gay.

Eventually - thankfully - they arrived in Columbus and by some miracle, managed to find a great parking spot. “Okay, so Toph, I’m going to steal your girlfriend,” Allison started as the group slipped out of Maia’s car. “We’re going to look around for cool stuff on one side then you and Shane can tackle the other side? We can sound off in the group chat if we see something awesome.” Topher nodded slightly as he answered, “That’s cool. Just let us get a goodbye kiss in real quick.” They kissed and the sour taste reentered when there was no spark of love, passion, or anything. “See you, boys, later,” Maia called over her shoulder before she departed with Allison. And with that, Shane and Topher were left to their own devices.

As they wandered around after Topher called Burt to tell him about the group’s safe arrival, some idle chit-chat was made between them, but the duo remained silent for the most part. Until Shane decided to break the silence as a concerned look appeared on his face. “Hey, Topher, you okay?” he questioned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Topher responded while he tried to not look like a deer caught in the headlights. He could only hope that he hadn’t had a wistful look on his face or that he hadn’t given himself away in some other fashion. Hell, he hoped that Shane couldn’t see anything that reminded him of himself back when he was in the closet.

Shane replied, “It’s just you’re normally way more chatty. Always talking our ears off about a new story or script idea or some shit and you’ve been quiet since we left Lima.” Topher waved him off as he tried to not look relieved that the other male still seemed clueless to the younger Hummel’s mental turmoil. “I’m alright, I promise. Just stayed up too late last night.” That wasn’t a complete lie nor was it the whole truth. Ever since he’d realized he wasn’t straight and all of this internalized homophobia bullshit started, Topher had become a master at telling half-truths.

What he hadn’t told Shane was why he stayed up too late last night. During the day, it was easy to keep everything at bay by keeping himself busy. But the night was a whole different story. Unless he had something, anything else to focus on other than his own thoughts then Topher was usually treated to the same mental invasion that he’d experienced during the ride here. He mustered up his most confident look as he looked back at Shane then aimed to pull him in for a side hug. “You guys would be the first to know what the fuck is up with me, I promise.”

“Good, I’m holding you to that on behalf of everyone. Now, I smell something fucking delicious and it’s barbecue. Text the girls, tell them what we found,” Shane responded as his own arm wrapped around Topher. As Topher pulled his phone out to do just that, he found himself torn between what he should feel. Guilt at the fact that he’d just lied to one of his best friends or relief that his secret was safe for another day?

That same question was one he would go on to ask himself many more times down the road. But thankfully, more often than not, Topher found a distraction pretty quickly. And this time? It was enjoying delicious barbecue with the trio of his closest friends. Everything else could simply be worried about later.

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Senior Year at William McKinley - October

“C’mon Topher,” all three of his friends pouted as they followed him out of the building and towards the soccer field. While they made their way out, they passed by plenty of posters that advertised tryouts for the Lima Theatre Guild’s winter play. Dog Sees God: Confessions of Teenage Blockhead, also known as the very same play that they were trying to convince him to audition for.

(Apparently Ms. Johnson had tried to petition the school board to let the drama club perform it and the whole thing fell on deaf ears, despite her best efforts to prove the pros would far outweigh the cons. So, she took her case to the local theatre guild and rumor had it they were eating out of her hand by the time the meeting was over. Just further proof to the drama kids that their faculty advisor slash teacher was an utter badass.)

“Guys, I told you that drama was gonna be a two-time thing. Christmas Carol and Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Topher gently reminded the trio as he turned around to walk backward so he could talk to them. Benefits of knowing the way to the soccer field like the back of his hand. Of course, the only thing they did was glance between each other in unspoken communication. Clearly they were trying to figure out who had the best shot at getting through to him.

Allison soon started, “You heard Ms. Johnson after the winter and spring plays, Toph.” He had in fact heard what she’d said when she was talking to his dad. “Your son, he just comes alive when he’s on stage. And then he breathes new life into the character in a way that’s just incredible,” Topher recited. “Exactly. You know what you’re doing. Plus, I’ll admit that I’m being a bit selfish when I say that I want someone to keep me from losing my sanity thanks to boredom.”

That made Topher snort in amusement while Maia picked up where Allison left off. “It does look great on a college application. I know that you’re practically guaranteed a soccer scholarship, but it never hurt to show off that you’re well-rounded.” Another valid point. After all, Topher had been rambling his head off earlier in the day about college applications. His attention then turned to Shane as he questioned, “Alright, what’ve you got?”

“It’s senior year, man,” Shane replied. “Plus, I’ve already read over the script and I think you’d be a shoo-in for Beethoven.” They’d arrived at the soccer field at this point, but practice didn’t start for another few minutes. “You’ve got the tortured artist vibe down pat,” he continued which made Topher nearly fall down laughing. “I’m gonna audition too. Been awhile since the last time I was on stage. Now, don’t get me wrong. I fucking love doing the make up, but it’s just been too long. I got to get back out there.”

All of that did make a return to the drama club sound very tempting, enough so that it made Topher visibly deflate. “Alright, looks like I’m auditioning for Dog Sees God,” he stated and as soon as the words left his mouth, the trio pulled him in for a group hug.

The next day saw the two of them remain true to their respective words when they auditioned. And when they got reprimanded for cheering in the library after Ms. Johnson gave them the good news the day after? That was totally worth it.

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Senior Year at William McKinley - December

Even though Topher was far from an expert in parties, he had enough experience to know that there were no parties like drama club parties. Especially when it was two events combined into one. A late celebration of his 18th birthday, plus the cast and crew wanted to pat themselves on the back for jobs well done with their weekend performances. From what he saw, there hadn’t been a dry eye in the house and Topher couldn’t have been prouder of all the hard work they’d all put in.

So, they’d naturally piled into the living room of Allison’s house for the party after the Saturday show and they’d been properly showered with praises from loved ones. Topher had installed himself on the couch, sandwiched in between some of his other friends as they tried to take each other down in Mario Kart. Just as the race started to wind down, Maia called, “Topher, cake’s ready!” “Be right there!”

He lost the race, but the grin never faded from Topher’s face as he walked into the dining room then took a seat at the head of the table. As he pulled himself closer, his friends started to sing Happy Birthday while Maia carefully carried the cake in from the kitchen with Shane at her side, empty plates stacked up and at the ready. There was a piano along with music notes on the cake - a tribute to the character he’d brought to life in the play - and eighteen lit candles stuck in the upper right corner.

The song ended which served as Topher’s cue to blow out the candles. “Our boy’s another year older! Or he has been for a few days, but now it’s official!” Shane proclaimed before he pressed a kiss to his best friend’s cheek. Everyone clambered around in bids to get one of the first slices while Topher couldn’t help but reflect on how his cheeks no longer burned whenever he and Shane were in close quarters together.

It had started during the rehearsals because they were playing love interests, so naturally that called for plenty of close quarters moments. But apparently the universe really wanted to put him through the ringer. There had been no shortage of days where they were the only two members of their friend group who were available to hang out.

There had also been no shortage of days where Shane decided to recruit Topher to be his canvas for one reason or another. This in turn translated into plenty of time where only inches separated them. Which also meant plenty of time where Topher hoped his rapid heartbeat couldn’t be heard and when he lied about why he was so pink - sometimes red - in the face as his partner in crime worked his make up artist magic.

However, as time passed, Topher slowly got used to Shane invading his personal space on the regular. When his heart stopped racing at the mere thought of being close to him, that was when he knew the crush had fizzled out. Things had gone back to normal just like that. Sure, it had taken a couple of months, but there had been no need to worry after all. He didn’t have to dread the idea of telling him and no reason to tip the dominos.

Everything would be just fine, Topher reassured himself as he dug into the slice of cake that Maia had plated for him. He’d eventually have to revisit all of this, he knew that much. But for now, he was going to celebrate with his friends and just be a teenager. Everything else that demanded his attention - from his sexuality to reminders about studying for finals and preparing for college - could wait until tomorrow or even later. The present - where all of his friends were - was so much more important right now.

The party ended a few hours later and left the quartet to clean up followed by the construction of a blanket fort. (Sure, the couch was cozy enough for their movie marathon, but was it really the comfiest place to sleep?) So they naturally bundled up in blankets as the first Harry Potter movie started playing. With all of the warmth, it was only a matter of time before someone fell asleep and Topher had a pretty good feeling he’d be the first one. In true introvert fashion, the party had worn him out, except it was in the pleasant ‘I had a great time’ and deep in your bones way. His trio of friends had really outdone themselves, so he figured that his presents for the upcoming holidays should reflect how much he appreciated it.

But that would just have to be added to his agenda for tomorrow because all of the blankets and warmth from his friends were doing nothing to help him stay awake. “Night guys,” Topher whispered. “Goodnight birthday boy,” the three of them chorused. A tired laugh escaped as he shook his head then proceeded to fall asleep, surrounded by his three closest friends.

#para: we're going to be friends #internalized homophobia tw #//If I don't post this now then I'll just keep adding to it and making it unnecessarily long

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davewakeman · 4 years ago

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Talking Tickets 5 June 2020--Brokers! Baseball! Australia! And, More!

Hey There!

Thanks for being here again this week. If you are enjoying this newsletter, tell your friends and colleagues to sign up by visiting this link.

How’s everyone holding up?

Come join our Slack Channel if you are looking to connect with folks from around the world to talk tickets, marketing, sales, and more.

I’m hosting a happy hour with Ken Troupe this afternoon at 5 PM EDT. And, Ken will have some sort of fancy beer that his buddy’s brewery brews and I’m totally jealous!

Two things I saw this week talk about youth sports which I think is such a valuable tool to grow sports business over time and also has such a powerful impact on kids:

One from the Aspen Institute talks about communities, another pet topic of mine.

The second from IUPUI is about how the changes that youth sports need to implement to protect kids in the face of the coronavirus are being perceived by parents.

The thing about both of these is if you look, you can see some ideas that are helpful in your business as well.

To the tickets!

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1. Brokers may be on the ropes due to a liquidity crisis:

My opinion was always that the ticket industry was going to see a pretty radical shift the first time the economy in the States hit any sort of bump in the road.

We were at the end of a long-running upward cycle in the economy, the longest in history. There was so much money floating in the market that the prices and valuations on a lot of deals were ridiculous. And, despite the relative “success” of the industry, we were seeing so many venues, events, and organizations struggle with real, turnstile attendance that it is amazing that folks were pretty consistently just going along like everything was normal and fine. Don’t even get me started…I have more.

If you never had a chance to listen to my podcast with Patrick Ryan back in the day, some of it may not be reflective of our current environment, but the key thing is value.

Corey Leff writes about liquidity and social distancing in his piece and his piece is accurate. I asked a few colleagues and they suggested that the credit card companies might be a little more willing to work with the secondary market than anticipated because it would be a big hunk of business if they didn’t, but that was the only thing the people took exception with.

For me, I’d actually look at a Venn Diagram of three specific areas going forward: (I’m not artistic enough to do a Venn Diagram in this newsletter so imagine one)

* Access to tickets * Access to money * Relationships

While I believe events will come back because we’ve had events for thousands of years, I don’t think that the business is going to work the same way. Again, trends like consumer spending power, amount of competition, and others will meet up with things specifically brought on by the pandemic like social distancing, psychological factors that we don’t know how they will impact folks yet, and the economy.

This combination is going to be important, especially the relationships part because folks have been burned in a lot of cases by the refund policies of the platforms and I’m not sure that folks are going to just rush back to the platforms right away. You’ll also have to consider when they do, will they just wait until the last minute and buy or not buy on a whim? And, again, the financial situation.

Three ideas to run with here:

1. Where are your relationships on both sides of the aisle? Do you have folks on the ticket side, sure. But do you have customers as well? I think the folks that have and maintained a book of business are going to be in a really strong spot.

2. The person with the money is going to be able to control the conversations. There is still private equity money floating around right now, but I’m not sure we’ve seen the end of a lot of the challenges the economy is going to hit. So if you are thinking you can put together deals and find the money, that may not be the case when tickets start becoming available. So hold onto your money.

3. If your business overlaps with the secondary market at all, you have to plan your going forward strategy: *What is your value going to be? * Who are you going to work with?

It will be different than it was before and if you aren’t prepared, you can lose to other competitors in your market because the competition will be even more intense than ever before.

I’m going to think through this a little more and I’ll probably have some stuff to post to DaveWakeman.com later this week.

2. Games are coming back:

We have the NBA and MLS announcing plans to come back this week and we have MLB, which I will get to in a bit, not announcing!

The Premier League is on its way back with only one player testing positive in the last round of test, he is a member of Tottenham Hotspur and no one wanted to say Serge Aurier, but everyone was joking around his name since he was busted breaking the UK’s quarantine order 3x.

While there won’t be fans at the Premier League games, there will be refunds and lots of them.

The Champions League looks like an 8 team tournament in Portugal. I’m a little torn about scrapping the second leg of the semi-finals because of how exciting the semi-finals were last year. 95:01.

There are a lot of things still to be worked out and everyone has to balance safety, science, and more. It is good to hear Mark Cuban talk about having a vaccine sooner rather than later, but we also need to consider where the vaccine will be developed and how quickly it will be rolled out to various countries.

That out of the way, we also need to beware of a lot of these articles and ideas that are floating around that say the virus is going to change everything for all time. There is no evidence that any of this stuff will come to pass from previous financial or medical crises.

Let’s keep in mind a few things:

* Many of these social distancing plans in arenas are going to be unworkable logistically.

* Let’s figure out how exactly pricing is going to work and where folks fall on that could hamstring the success or failure of these ideas.

* We still really don’t know what is going to really happen with the virus or the economy. From day-to-day, we can get one idea offered up as the key takeaway and the next it is something new. So until we have a clear plan with some clear guidelines and expectations, it is going to be a bit of a two-steps-forward and one-step-back situation on having fans at the events, even outdoors.

Though I do like the lessons that Andrew Lloyd Weber is offering up from Seoul and now working to try out in London.

3. Recovery from the coronavirus may look like the recovery from war and less like recovery from an average recession:

I’m allowed on non-ticket related dense document a week to make a point, right?

This one from Les Binet is pretty great to read through and think about. All of the suggestions in the summary are things we should be thinking about and asking ourselves how we can do them.

Will we? That’s another story.

Look, I’ve said it a few times already, but the competition coming out of this crisis is going to be intense and it will be every organization for itself so you have to be able to be agile in your strategy and adapt your marketing and sales techniques much more quickly than you ever have before.

In New Zealand, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern, announced a number of new programs to help the arts and creative sectors in NZ. This is great and in the UK, there have been calls to do something similar for the arts and entertainment sector.

There have also been a number of different efforts in the US to try and push towards some form of bailout or support for the world of live entertainment. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that despite it being a completely relevant thought, the likelihood of something like that happening in the States anytime soon isn’t great.

What does this mean for all of us?

* Focus on telling stories about the impact of attending live events. That’s not something that has been done very well in a lot of places in the past, there is no time like now to rethink the way that shows and events and games are marketed and advertised.

* Make sure that you are helping folks buy tickets, merchandise, and other items as quickly and simply as possible.

* Be creative in what you offer, how you sell, and what you create to share with your customers.

4. Australia is urging a spring 2021 reopening with no social distancing:

While their neighbors in New Zealand are potentially going to be able to go back to normal with events by the next newsletter.

Across Australia, we are seeing a lot of organizations and codes struggling to recover coming out of the coronavirus. The A-League is hanging on for survival. Rugby is hurting.

And, as the battle between the AFL and NRL points to, the competition for market share and attention is going to be huge as well.

The road to recovery for Australia will be difficult, but they are also dealing with their first recession in around 3 decades…so they likely have some ideas or some ways of dealing with things that are going to look unique to all of us.

Let’s think about a couple of things here that apply to everyone:

* We need to recognize what New Zealand has done well and where we can learn and take ideas to help us all. I recognize that they are in a really unique situation, but there are still a tremendous number of lessons there. We will also learn a lot from how their opening up goes.

* The battle over sports dollars is going to be interesting because Australia is sports mad and the AFL has always had a pretty big lead in fandom. Over the past year, I’ve noticed some challenges to that crown from the NRL and many of my friends and colleagues are giving me the “you got to get to rugby, mate.” And, heading out of the pandemic, it is good to see AFL clubs like Port pushing their revenue-generating activities…because you know how I feel about marketing, “I got into it because that’s where the money is.”

Here the thing is, the Australians and the New Zealanders do have a history of being advanced in their membership and partnership schemes and I’ve met some of the best arts marketers that I know when I’ve been in Australia. So I think they are going to come out of this fine, but I will be interested in seeing how they experiment with their steps out of the coronavirus.

5. Is baseball trying to throw itself into a Great Depression of its own making?

Ahhh…baseball.

I think I’ve spent far too much time writing about baseball here, but it is Friday and we still don’t have a deal for a baseball season.

And, the easy answer to throw out there is money.

That’s also likely to correct answer, but you could pick different adjectives to spell it out if you’d like. Fill in your best adjective here and send it to me_________.

Many teams have used the coronavirus and negotiations about the baseball season to push through cuts to their minor league systems, leaving over 1,000 players looking at the end of their baseball careers.

With as much as 70% of their revenue coming from having fans in the stadium, there isn’t as big of an incentive to start up the baseball season as there may be for other sports.

Scott Boras sent out an email last week telling his clients not to “bailout” the owners that made a lot of debt-fueled deals and acquisitions over the last few years.

This seems like an acceleration of the labor negotiations and what was already being predicted to be challenging negotiations between baseball and their player’s union, but here is the thing, if baseball doesn’t find a way to pull their act together…I’m not sure that baseball finds a way back.

After the 1994 strike, it seems like baseball went from a 30-year cold war between players and owners to a 25 or so year cold war that is now coming to a head.

I understand that baseball is going to parade out this number that they are making more money than ever. And, there are many examples of businesses throughout history that were doing well, until they weren’t.

Baseball used to dominate the American sports consciousness.

Now, I’d put baseball behind the NFL, the NBA, and the Premier League…and I’d say the gap between those top 3 and MLB ain’t close.

I’ve written a lot about baseball in the past because I love it. But the game has to do a few things better, starting with getting whatever kind of season they can together.

After that, I have 3 specific ideas that I’d suggest:

* Get your marketing together. Like a lot of places I talk with and work with, we have to keep our eyes on the prize. The object of marketing is to make money. All the other funny metrics are secondary to whether or not folks are coming into the ballpark and spending money.

Deals with brokers, partnerships, and all the other things are great but they are going to start losing their appeal if folks aren’t in the ballpark and your partners can’t achieve an ROI on their investment.

* Work on your pricing. Baseball has far too many games and seats to try and price everything at a premium. If everything is a premium, nothing is a premium. Or, you are teaching people something worse, they just don’t want me at the game.

* Be creative. The average baseball fan has been getting one year older every year for as long as I’ve been paying attention. The graying of the fan base is a killer. But more importantly, you need to be rejuvenating your fan base because from year to year or phase to phase in folks’ lives, they are going to have a different need or want for attending your games. So you have to have more fans than you can ever serve always cycling through.

This means you’ll need to be creative with your marketing, with your in-game experience, with the way you engage your fans and more.

The key is that coming out of the pandemic, baseball can either have a creative rejuvenation or it can stick its head in the sand and struggle.

I’m cheering for baseball because I’d like to see another Mets’ World Series win!

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What am I up to this week?

I didn’t get nearly as much done this week as I wanted to because living in the District was stressful this week.

I am loading up podcast and webinar replays for y’all.

I’ve got a feeling folks are having a little webinar fatigue, am I right? If y’all have the stomach for a few webinars, let me know. If not, I may try and do some sort of conference call type thing.

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Talking Tickets 5 June 2020–Brokers! Baseball! Australia! And, More! was originally published on Wakeman Consulting Group

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