#Leonard Cohen would forgive me

[madevampselle]

Do you wonder how many times Lestat had to record that song and how he came every single time? How weird it must have been inside that studio? How hard and mesmerised Danny was? (Yes, of course Lestat would invite him, he knows all about him.) How horny and crazy it made Louis and Armand to learn about the recording and then to see Lestat and hear him? How every fucking vampire cannot wait to meet Louis to see what's so special about this guy who means so much to Lestat that he's still wearing his wedding ring after all that's happened? How Lestat is literally putting on a show to divert attention away from Louis? How Lestat is basically

And may the spirit of this song, may it rise up pure* and free

May it be a shield for you, a shield against the enemy

Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover

Come back to me

So, do you?

*his spirit's pure, his body's sticky, it's his allure, he's just so freaky

[yanderecrazysie]

J.S Anon here again, you can probably tell what kind of Reader I want for this one. Anyways would I be able to request an NSFW one? Maybe Despair and Hope hating reader silently giving Chihiro a blowjob underneath the table and being walked in on if that's alright!

HI AGAIN! I had a lot of trouble working the Junko’s sister and hope/despair hate into this, but I think I got it! Also, he’s a little OOC so take that as you will.

As always, all characters are 18+.

Title: Take This Longing

Pairings: Chihiro Fujisaki x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, NSFW, NON-CON ORAL (m. receiving)

“Oh take this longing from my tongue

Whatever useless things these hands have done

Let me see your beauty broken down

Like you would do

For one you love”

From “Take This Longing” by Leonard Cohen

You blankly watched the number on the elevator’s display screen change as each floor passed you by. The numbers blinked with the same red as the light on your ankle monitor. 

Not everyone could forgive an Enoshima, after all.

The elevator stopped near the top floor of the highrise and the doors opened, revealing an office bathed in the soft glow of a hundred monitors, lining the walls and desks. There were bookshelves haphazardly placed against the windows that made up the back wall, all half-way filled with technical manuals.

At the center of a ring of monitors was Chihiro Fujisaki, whose eyes flitted between displays with an intensity that didn’t match his sweet-looking exterior. As a member of the Future Foundation, Chihiro had grown taller over the years and had begun wearing pants instead of skirts (embracing his masculine side).

As he looked up at you, his heart skipped a beat. You, the sister of Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba, yet a person that loathed both despair and hope, always brought a smile to his face.

He stood, smoothing out the front of his lab coat. You were punctual, as always, on the dot of the hour you were summoned. He admired that about you. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“You wanted to see me?” your voice was deadpan as always.

“Yes, thank you for coming,” Chihiro gestured to a chair opposite his desk, “Please, take a seat.”

“I’d rather not,” you said simply, crossing your arms.

Chihiro nodded, swallowing thickly, “Alright, well… I’ve been working on something. A project for hope. Of course, you already knew that…”

You didn’t respond, just stood there blankly staring at him, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s an AI, one that can learn and evolve beyond the programming constraints of binary thinking. It’s designed to understand and feel, without falling into the traps that…” he swallowed again, not wanting to bring up the past that had led to you becoming an unwilling member of the Future Foundation, “...well, you know.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?” you sounded wary.

Chihiro’s fingers twitched nervously, “Because, you can help me test it. With your rejection of both hope and despair, we can make sure the AI can run without biases if needed.”

You shrugged, “I’m not allowed to turn down anything you guys ask, but what do you even get out of this?”

Chihiro’s heart hammered in his chest, “I… I admire you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, “Everything about you.”

You gave him a disgusted look, “I’m not interested in any of you hope-filled tree-huggers. Fuck off with that mushy-gushy shit.”

Chihiro’s heart shattered into a million pieces and tears filled his eyes. He felt a surge of anger, “Why can’t you just like hope? It’s such a good thing, how can you hate it?”

You shrugged again and turned away, “If that’s all, then I’ll take my leave.”

Chihiro suddenly had a thought. One that was awful, terrible, and so tempting.

“Suck me off,” he said, voice trembling. He couldn’t believe something so inappropriate had left his mouth. It had only ever done so in daydreams of the two of you together.

Where you were a willing participant.

You clearly couldn’t believe it either, “The hell’d you say?”

“Suck me off,” Chihiro demanded, voice stronger and clearer this time, “You can’t refuse a direct order from one of us, can you?”

“I’m- I’m not a sex toy!” you snapped, blood running to your cheeks. Despite your protest, you reluctantly got on your knees and crawled under his desk. He could hardly believe it when shaking hands unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling his painfully hard cock out of his trousers.

It was bigger than you expected for such a delicate-looking man, and it was threatening-looking, with a pulsating vein down the side and pre beading at the tip. You hesitated for a moment, looking up at Chihiro’s face. He was staring down at you with a mix of desire and embarrassment, biting his lip as he watched you.

You took a deep breath and leaned forward, tentatively wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. It was warm and spongy, and very, very salty. You moved your head forward, taking as much of his impressively-sized member into your mouth as possible.

Chihiro let out a high-pitched moan as you started to move your head up and down, swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock. He grew harder and heavier in your mouth, his hips starting to thrust forward slightly as he lost himself in the sensation.

He thrust a little too hard and you gagged, pulling off the cock with a whine of pain. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he gasped, carding his hand through your hair, “I’ll be more careful- please keep going!”

You took him back into your mouth, sucking harder and beginning to bob your head up and down. Your hands reached up to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you continued to work his cock.

Chihiro let out a strangled moan as he felt the familiar tightness building in his groin. He couldn’t believe how good it felt. He felt like he’d died and gone to heaven, because having you on your knees for him, sucking his throbbing cock, was better than any fantasy he could have conjured up in that moment..

With one final thrust forward, he exploded into your mouth, cock pulsating as he filled it with his release. You swallowed it down, but the sheer volume of it spilled over onto your lips, leaving you looking more debauched than ever.

At that moment, the elevator doors opened, and Byakuya stepped into the room. “Fujisaki, I need those-” he stopped, absolutely horrified by the sight he was seeing.

Chihiro was sure he looked red-faced, with his spent cock hanging out of his pants and you, under his desk, white cum dripping down your chin.

“Disgusting,” Byakuya shuddered, shaking his head as he walked straight back into the elevator.

You looked borderline tearful until Chihiro placed his hand back in your hair, letting out a contented sigh, “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You stared at him blankly, as though you couldn’t believe what you had done, all emotion driven out of you.

Chihiro couldn’t wait until you did it again for him. 

Maybe next time, he’d make you go all the way.

[chthonion]

Hello!

Forgive me if you’ve already answered a similar question before, but regarding your shadow rising to meet you series, do you have a playlist/selection of songs that you listen to while writing, or find work well for the series and characters?

I was recently on another reread of the Harrowing and had the song “Mirror Forever” by Weyes Blood shuffle on and I thought it lyrically matched Annatar and Celebrimbor really well. I don’t know if space-y slow ballads like that are genres you enjoy, so I’m curious as to what songs you would personally put together for the series might look like. I’m tempted to make a personal playlist myself as I like to play music and read!

Have a good day! <3

Hello hello! Oh, man, that song is so much fun for Annatar/Celebrimbor, I love it. The vibes are so awesome. Thank you so much for sharing!

I listen to music constantly when I’m writing! This story has expanded so much that it has a lot of sub-playlists (including a few memorable chapters that were difficult enough to warrant their own specific playlist—In A Handful of Dust is a notable one there), but I’ll offer a sampler! There have also been a lot of incredible reader suggestions, including @kesterel's magnificent playlist here, which is honestly incredible and which I have totally gone to when I was stuck on edits.

Without further ado! Here are some music recs for Your Shadow Rising To Meet You, with youtube links!

Anastasis

Prayer--Scarlet Pimpernel musical soundtrack

No, stay—I don’t care what you’ve said or done...

Bring On the Wonder--Susan Enan

Thanks, @tathrin!

Chalk Outline--Three Days Grace

This Night--Black Lab

I know I'm not forgiven, but I need a place to sleep

(Acquired this one from a tango DJ ten years ago and finding the right version on Youtube was confusing, oh well)

Annatar's relationships in general

I'll Be Good--Jaymes Young

This one and the next one were recommendations from someone, but I cannot for the life of me remember who or find the comment. Thank you, whoever you are!

Hardest of Hearts--Florence and the Machine

If it be your will--Leonard Cohen

If it be your will, if there is a choice Let the rivers fill, let the hills rejoice Let your mercy spill on all these burning hearts in hell If it be your will to make us well

Guns for Hire--Woodkid

Kiss your perfect day goodbye Because the world is on fire Tuck your innocence goodnight You sold your friends like guns for hire

Conquest of Spaces--Woodkid

Mercy Mirror--Within Temptation

Annatar and Frodo

The Dark Of You--Breaking Benjamin

Say a prayer for the wounded heart within As I become the dark of you

Farewell Wanderlust--The Amazing Devil

I'm the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shunned All those letters unsent and that garden ungrown I'm the captain of courage that you've eternally lacked I'm the Jesus of wishing to Christ he'll come back

Annatar and Finrod

Who You Are (from Beethoven’s Last Night)--Trans-Siberian Orchestra

And who would have thought that after this time, that I’d be the one you’re saving?

Maedhros and Fingon

The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace--The Amazing Devil

You're not a coward 'cause you cower You're brave because they broke you Yet broken still you breathe

Give Me A Sign--Breaking Benjamin

There's lots more I could add, but I'll stop there so I can cook dinner XD Thanks for the ask!

[skylarbee]

alex/milex and 'a singer must die'

this song from Leonard Cohen is Alex through and through, especially the fact that he uses.... body paint, instead of showing the public his real self. of course, it also reminded me heavily of milex. i will explain in this stupidly long post:

the song is about people who criticise Leonard and his songs, but also his lovers:

"This song is for my critics and for my judges and for those who give marks to us everywhere, who evaluate our performance whether it is in the courtroom or the cloakroom or the bedroom. This is for the judges." -> we also know someone who is severely criticised by the media, right?

the songs starts with:

Now the courtroom is quiet, but who will confess? Is it true you betrayed us? The answer is Yes

-> many British people, the 'judges' are bashing Alex for 'forgetting where he comes from' and not being proud anymore of his hometown. they think he's betrayed his people (who he once made proud with his debut album) by 'pretending to be American'

// Miles and Alex have never been official, but even if they are seeing each other, they are more often than not in relationships with other people. betrayal is inevitable and constant, and the confessions before it certainly don't come easily (a betrayal, maybe the biggest yet, happened in 2018?)

Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline

-> these judges love to list the reasons why they think ill of him ('putting on a fake American accent', 'pretending to be Elvis', moving to America, etc.), and it seems like they will never get over the fact that he's changed since 2006

// during that presumably awful time for them, they both could've messed up and made mistakes - and for a while, maybe one of them couldn't forgive the other for some time. or simply, one of them asked for love again and again; the other refused and wanted to just stay friends.

And all the ladies go moist and the judge has no choice A singer must die for the lie in his voice

-> but despite the criticism, in 2013, thousands upon thousands of women went crazy for the way he sang and moved; but this didn't matter for the judges - he was still the person who was attacked and who they wanted gone, and he knew it. and as everyone knows, he sings these words in one point perspective: I suppose a singer must die

// all those love songs that Alex writes, or at least some parts of them could be about Miles - but it's no use, he always throws in a 'she', and all the ladies go crazy for the songs and the singer - so what is there to do except be ashamed in front of his real muse and himself: For a master of deception and subterfuge/ You've made yourself quite the bed to lie in/ Do your time travelling through the tanning booth/ So you don't let the sun catch you crying (There'd Better Be A Mirrorball)

And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty You keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty Your vision is right, my vision is wrong I'm sorry for smudging the air with my song

-> rather sarcastically, in Sculptures of Anything Goes, Alex also writes about knowing that the judges think his newer music is bad: Is that vague sense of longing kinda trying to cause a scene?/ Guess I'm talking to you now/ Puncturing your bubble of relatability/ With your horrible new sound/ Baby, those mixed messages ain't what they used to be/ When you said 'em out loud

// even if things aren't always right, Alex might know and is grateful for the fact that miles is there to snap him out of anything he's struggling with or to call him out when he's being dishonest; and perhaps he's ashamed for the lies he sells to the judges with his songs

Oh, the night it is thick, my defenses are hid In the clothes of a woman I would like to forgive In the rings of her silk, in the hinge of her thighs Where I have to go begging in beauty's disguise Oh, goodnight, goodnight, my night after night My night after night after night after night after night

-> despite all this, Alex continues to write and sing about what has always been the main subject of his songs: relationships and women. being in love can make you act reckless and not care about anything else: And all my pals will tell me is that I'm crazy/ You bet I'm loopy, alright/ And I just don't recognise this fool that you have made me (Sweet Dreams, TN). it could be that Alex doesn't find himself to be that attractive, as he once jokingly mentioned that his nose is too big; hence 'beauty's disguise'

// Alex doesn't have to defend himself in the arms of a woman - he goes there to escape and delay facing the painful truth, the real him, goes there because it brings less consequences than going to him. he goes to these women often... or maybe he's saying goodnight to someone else, someone who is equally his 'night after night', but only in thoughts (or maybe in secret)? I stare up to the moon/ And my lonely heart goes boom boom boom/ Once again, yeah - anyone? (One Man Band)

I am so afraid that I listen to you Your sun glass protectors they do that to you It's their ways to detain, their ways to disgrace Their knee in your balls and their fist in your face

-> another thing that funnily enough, Alex is criticised a lot for, is him wearing sunglasses everywhere; which could be another way of him hiding who he truly is, feeling safer behind a pair of sunglasses. it can also make him braver, knowing that people can't look him straight in the eyes - like this, he might dare to face the judges. but at the same time, it's these sunglasses that he gets bashed for - they're not that useful after all

// whether it's literally sunglasses or body paint - they're a way for him to protect himself, but also a way to hurt himself even more: while he's avoiding the pain of looking the truth in the face, he's facing the pain of having to hide his true feelings and what his heart truly desires

and let me not even start on the song that follows this one, I Tried To Leave You (Is This What You Wanted is from here too, which TLSP gorgeously covered). i don't have to say anything more, do i?

I tried to leave you, I don't deny I closed the book on us at least a hundred times I'd wake up every morning by your side

The years go by, you lose your pride The baby's crying, so you do not go outside And all your work it's right before your eyes

Goodnight, my darling, I hope you're satisfied The bed is kind of narrow, but my arms are open wide And here's a man still working for your smile

[foxglove03]

Songs to exist frightfully off of…songs to go through the effort of googling “how to put a song on a loop on Spotify” and fall asleep in an armchair after getting home at 8 am…songs that will most definitely kill your mood or revive and slap the shit out of you..

“Lakes of Canada” by The Innocence Mission or covered by Sufjan Stevens. Honestly, this is a dealer’s choice kinda thing but if you’re inclined to go with Sufjan, give the original a chance because it’s just as good. The song holds a very strange catharsis for me. It always brings me back to this terrible period of rejection several months ago when everything seemed very world-shattering. I think if I hadn’t listened to this song as much as I have I wouldn’t be able to look back at all.

“Famous Blue Raincoat” by Leonard Cohen was my gateway drug. “And what can I tell you, my brother, my killer, what can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you, I’m glad you stood in my way,” is not the line to be left to your own devices to interpret for the first time pissant drunk listening to records.

"Against Pollution" by The Mountain Goats is another song where I just get caught on the execution of one particular line. Just "And a guy came in," absolutely caught me. I have no idea what Mr Darnielle is doing but he's doing it completely right. I personally think the simpler songs instrumentation-wise are the best in TMG's discography.

"Roman Candle" by Elliot Smith is the titular song of his first album. So many songs in there that I wish I listened to years ago. I found out about Elliot when I saw The Scene in The Royal Tennumbaums. Then, I just sleepily waded through his music until I hit this. The song possesses a kind of anger and rawness that belongs to someone with no aim toward mainstream success. It isn't a song written for an audience.

"Sadie" by Joanna Newsom grows on you. I have a bad habit of not being able to read the vibe as far as musical accompaniment goes. I will put on my "The Milk-Eyed Mender" CD while friends are over and trying to sleep in random uncomfortable places. Apparently, this isn't a popular choice. Joanna Newsom's music has a voice that's so rough and fragile, that anyone would love it eventually. May take you a bit...

"Casimir Pulaski Day" by Sufjan Stevens is the most vivid listening experience one could ask for. Talk about sustaining, you know? It's where Sufjan shows his personal interest in the art of the short story. I don't remember when I listened to Illinois for the first time but whenever it was, I should separate my life into before and after. I also feel like I didn't really feel immersed in the album until I rode through Illinois and upstate Wisconsin (an area I feel extremely attached to 3,000 miles away from it) on a bus. The song makes me want to take a cross-country bus. They should make those things cheaper. If you get anything from this list, take a greyhound. They're terribly impractical modes of transportation, more expensive than you'd think, and the best environment for some real artistic contemplation.

[gwaedhannen]

5, 12, 13 for Elwing if you want

-@outofangband

Also got 5/14/22/25 for Elwing from another anon.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Sunblind by Fleet Foxes, thanks to The Myth Hanging Heavy Over You, of course.

For a second answer since it got asked twice, Anthem by Leonard Cohen. Bird imagery of course, and it's a very Tolkien song in general, all about finding beauty and love in a broken world.

Yeah the wars they will be fought again The holy dove she will be caught again Bought and sold and bought again The dove is never free Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That's how the light gets in

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Pulling from The Myth Hanging Heavy Over You again, she cries a lot but really didn't want Elros and Elrond to know. Hence leaving in the middle of the night to cry over (and eat) the lembas she can't give to Earendil, and the handkerchiefs hidden in every piece of furniture in their house so she can quickly dry her tears at any moment.

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

It's a wonderful day in Gillond, and you are a horrible 🪿

(that's :goose: in case it's not rendering)

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

I think she makes a point in Valinor to wear as little white as possible. Both because it reminds her of the Kinslaying and her attempted suicide, and because she's a bit miffed at how she got turned into a symbol. Turns out you can wear as technicolor an ensemble as you want, and it'll still look good in Silmaril-light.

She absolutely plays up the bird motifs for formal events though. Helps that she has an infinite source of feathers from her friends!

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

Like: giving her friends and a community in Valinor! I don't know why it seems like the default is to make her completely isolated at her tower aside from Earendil, but it bugs me.

Dislike: aside from the obvious (bashing her to make the Feanorians look better), silver-haired Elwing just irks me the wrong way for no real reason. Dark hair just seems right! Although my personal image of her does have a single streak of white-silver hair among the dark.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I first read the Silm some 15 years ago so I honestly don't remember? Probably something along the lines of "aw that's sad".

Now: must protecc. Let her be angry! Let her look at the world that failed her and twisted her into an instrument of fate and demand it do better! Let her look in the eyes of her childhood monsters who ruined her life twice and know it doesn't matter to her whether she forgives them or not, because she's healed regardless!

[ammonitetestpatterns]

Are you a Christian?

i would rather not say because it's complicated, but i resonate with the bible and take it seriously as a paradigmatic source on moral agency and life on earth as we might familially know it, the education of our psychological and social development and organization, a lurid, prophetic body crying out how to live toward common goodness from the most intimate and singular magnifying glass of faith, it needs to have everything and each word lives. i mean, without meddling in trinitarianism, jesus serves an example for everyone to enflesh god and live up to him. the power to possibly impact the unknowable, the ability to use your life, your irreplaceable position of activity in the world among other entities, to change how you might be received when you are without agency, is a deep lure, and personally i think this factors into the influence of organized religion on political violence, scapegoating (this holds for cult religions of the ancient world, the configuration of the homo sacer), and global change not to mention the fear of collapsed kinship channeled into control over reproductive labor. the unity of the church was furrowed in my psychic formation, but how real to me always was the nesting of truth through the perfect body touched by a total mind, to pull from leonard cohen. the outline of protective fantasy in that idea of an unmediated understanding is revealed to me too. i read frank samperi and jeremy halvard prynne as if they were canonized, keeping the former’s trilogy by my pillow every night. if i went to church i wouldn’t take the eucharist because i respect god enough not to consume his body, that alone should show my stance.

i think everybody has a god whether they know it or not, it could be nature or love, something like a firm routine that rewards and uplifts. i am doubtful that this is a belief consistent with christianity, even if you were to locate creative primacy in god, with the appearance of such sources of inspiration for action, taken to be good or right, as the extension of that primacy, not assigned identity apart from god. the instantiation of jesus as a person was defined by his sense of divine responsibility to the collective of sentience making up the world, weltseele in the possibility that one’s sacrifice could amount to mass forgiveness and moral alignment. jesus was one of few men in history to have actual swag. aggressively putting stock in the scientific verification of a miracle misses the point. the text should reveal by what it conceals, and i guess carrying the old testament from the torah complicates esoteric reading (though you could argue that the hope for mass christian practice and redemption that underlies most denominations is necessarily exoteric) in its creation of a new text with different, diachronic and linguistically bound standards of practice, mangling the poetics of hebrew’s rooted visuality and phonetic matrix, the same holds for the quran and arabic. gnarling the song of life. this doesn’t even begin to touch on differing views on god’s activity, status, and the believer’s relationship to this between the abrahamic religions, how these are inscribed with the body and its medium of expression. the modern relationship between science and mysticism adopts and reorients the function of more local paradigms of belief on physical law and seeming phenomenal exception, prompted by secularism and globalization, but it still has its mysteries. capital, despite attempts to elevate it as a force acting with libidinal orientation and agency, is thankfully not one of them. seeking social religiosity can easily mutate into the exploitation of spiritual emergency, not only in cults or fundamentalist community networks either.

[blaqekklesia]

A rewritten version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" with more Christian elements surrounding Good Friday performed by Heather Headley.

I’ve heard there was a secret chord That David played and it pleased the Lord You know it well before he sang it to You It goes like this, the fourth the fifth The minor fall the major lift The shepherd boy composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

The storm had raged, the ocean spoke While You were sleeping in the boat Angry and afraid I came and woke You Three words before the winds would cease Peace be still then You turned to me My child have faith to hear the Hallelujah

At dinner on that final night You broke the bread You poured the wine You said Your blood was spilling for forgiveness Well, like a slave You washed my feet And said my child I’ve made you clean Yet somehow still I’ve missed Your Hallelujah

I tried to stay awake and pray As bloody sweat ran down Your face They came and with a kiss they would betray You Then Pilate and his government They mocked You beat You crowned Your head They led You up the hill of Hallelujah

And as I watched You hanging there Your swollen face and bloody hair Your lips were barely moving, but I heard You You begged the Father to forgive And in Your wounds I saw my sin And as you died my ears could finally hear You

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

[rayroa]

Judy Collins Q&A for Creative Loafing Tampa Bay

Judy Collins returns to Tampa Bay on Jan. 28, 2024, and Creative Loafing Tampa Bay has a feature story advancing the gig, but here's our Q&A for anyone interested.

—

Merry Christmas. What's that like in your house?

It's beautiful. It has a beautiful tree, and all my favorite possessions, and my husband. It's full of beautiful plants, and beautiful lamps and lights—so it's perfect.

And this is in New York, right?

Yep.

You talked about all your possessions and things like that. We obviously catch you at a very prolific time in your career. Still heavily gigging on the road, feeling great. What does Judy Collins ask for for Christmas? And what does she get for Christmas at this point?

Oh, I got a fireman Santa Claus ornament. An ornament of a microphone. I got a beautiful scarf from my sister and one from my husband—they're beautiful, gorgeous. And I love those things. They cozy me up on the road and they help me get through things. And books, and of course wonderful little tchotchkes from my sister and my granddaughter. I got a candle in a beautiful cup that has butterflies all over it. I love butterflies.

That's awesome. Gifts are really nice when you can figure out how to attach them to warm memories of the people that give them to you.

Exactly.

I want to ask you about Leonard Cohen a little bit. Obviously the story is well told and has been told a lot. He asked you why you weren't writing your own songs. You told him he's got to sing his own songs. And then you wrote "Since You've Asked" right after that. But I haven't seen you kind of talk about what you think Leonard would say about this latest album of all originals.

I know he'd love it. He'd love the one about Thomas Merton, certainly and he'd love the one about Spellbound. He was always generous with his praise. I would send him songs since I wrote them, and he would send me notes and tell me how wonderful they were. So I was always grateful.

Was he a good songwriting collaborator in terms of...

Oh, no I never collaborated with him on anything. He was a friend, and he was a fellow artist, and he was a great inspiration to me. And I think that's really where his  friendship helps me out. Because he inspired me with that first question. He got me going. And then after that, it was up to me, of course, but I did send him everything to get his response.

Did he ever give you constructive criticism?

He always said "That was wonderful." And that's the way that's the way he rolls.

For 32 years you learned that bel canto style under Max Margulis. He's the reason you can still work like a dog and I know you picked up a lot of good practices from him..I know that today is as good as it gets, you and I are both alive—and I know you have songs on the album that talk about some bad times, thinking of Arizona and tuberculosis in 1962—what about your own New Year's resolutions what are you working on this year?

Work harder. Keep on the edge. Forgive, forgive, forgive. Delight in the present. You know, keep your weight steady. Do your exercises and your bone strengthening. And take care to think of all your relatives and friends every day. Try to pray for them in this difficult time. It's always a difficult time on this planet. I don't know how we get by, or what we're supposed to do, but hang in here and try to exist and survive. Art's the thing that helps us which is why I treasure what I do. I think about the past year—I've had, in my experience, some of the best performances of my life in the past year. When I come off the stage, and I have that feeling that I have been present in something unique and transformative, it's transformative to me as well as the audience. I am so blessed because this is what keeps me going. This ability to get out there and do what I do, and sing and sing and sing, and talk, and tell my stories. It's just such a great privilege.

Yeah to be helpful for people's lives, too.

Absolutely. And the people who follow me and who come to my shows, they know what I'm going through because I'm always honest with them, I always tell them. This whole past month-and-a-half when I've had this cold which wouldn't go away, I was still able to sing and perform and I didn't have to cancel anything, thank God. So, you know, they know you're human, and they accept what you can do. Max has taught me what to do. So that makes my life much easier. Because I know how to get around these barriers to the voice.

You've kind of alluded to the cyclical nature of things in the human condition, and how the human condition kind of asks us to have art. Art gets us through things. And obviously, throughout your career, multiple people told you things like you know, "You got me through Vietnam," and I know that for poets hope is everywhere, but as you alluded to, there's this circle—and we love to kill each other for some reason—what is some of the art that gets you through these days?

Well, it's just the fact that being able to embody something that is of the nature of the other. Of the emotional, the spiritual, of the perception. You're dealing in something that's not on a foursquare basis. It's on the basis of spirituality, understanding, hearing, learning, listening, creating, dreaming, and that's what our life on the planet really is all about. I mean, the rest is a lot of work. And as far as writing and creating, my friend who's a mystery writer says, it's like laying pipe. You have to get up and do it, and practice it and write it and paint it. And that's the work that goes into it. But the result is just this connection between the spiritual and the practical. And that's what gets us through life, I think. I don't know what we would do without art. From the beginning, the caveman was drawing pictures on the walls of the caves because it had to express their experience of nature and of the powers of nature—and they did. And that's what we do. We basically were expressing what's happening around us—the nature, the growing things, the birds, the air, the clouds, the sun, the light, the morning, the night, the stars, the moon. So we see ourselves reflected in the universe, and we try to make something out of it that can inspire us, inspire one another.

And obviously reflection and song is its own special art form. Expression in songs is its own art form. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's hard. It was interesting to hear you say that you'd like to forgive more in the new year. You're so expressive in your music. You're always also a very vivid storyteller in your music. Oftentimes, your songs can take somebody back to a year, or a moment in history, but what are some of the things that you find hard to express? Is forgiveness one of those, or what's hard for you as far as expression goes?

The hardest thing to express is my being vehemently against war, and sometimes that has to come out with a song by Pete Seeger or Woody Guthrie. I have shied away from singing "Masters of War" lately. I usually sing it in my shows, but since this disaster in the Middle East, I'm not singing it. I just can't even bear it. It's too painful. I don't want to take people to that place in the moment. I mean, "Amazing Grace" will do it. John Lennon's "Imagine" will help—a song that transcends the moment instead of leaving us to have to live in that feeling of despair and horror and hunger and human suffering. We don't have to live through that through a concert. We have to be given something to lift us over that and through that. And also, I think that helps the planet. I don't think it's important to poke people's eyes out with the information that everybody has. I can't even watch the news.

Yeah, I totally understand that. And you know, listening to you talk about not wanting to sing "Masters of War" was interesting. Because I have a four year old and they did a Christmas program a week ago, and I didn't know what they were singing. And they did "War Is Over." 

Good.

And it was so crazy to see a bunch of four year olds, you know, singing like, "War is over if you want it." And I'm in Florida, like, this is where woke goes to die, you know?

(laughs)

So I was like, really happy to see these kids like singing this song. I couldn't believe it. And you know, and it makes a lot of sense now that you wouldn't play "Masters of War." You talked about Leonard a little bit, and I was gonna ask you, you know, because he was an Orthodox Jew and I think you've played you know, in front of Jewish audiences, but I think you kind of answered the question in the previous answer. I was going to ask you how you thought your conversations about the current war would go with Leonard, but I feel like you answered that. Do you feel that way, too? Or do you feel like you have more you want to say about that?

Well, you know, he was so explicit. Also there was a point in I think '73 when one of the wars—the Six-Day Way, I think, happened—he went to Israel and sang and wrote a song…(hums it out, trying  to remember the song title)... I forget, anyway, he was always expressive. On You Want It Darker, some of his last material is so powerful and so painful, because we wanted to darker—and we're getting it darker. This free formed mental illness that's what it is, it's freeform or mental illness.

My brother in law's in town and we've been talking a lot about Martin Luther King and his quotes about how violence could change somebody but also change a country, you know. You're one of the most famous activists in American history.

I don't know about that.

I don't know, I think your career is really interesting, because you have sung activist songs and you've, I mean, you're a woman also making music and art through all those really hard years for women. And you talked about the cyclical nature of things and thinking about the song "Mama, Mama" and that brave story that you told about traveling to Nebraska when you were 23. And I think the last time I talked to you was early 2022. And since then, in the last year, we saw the right to abortion fall, and I was wondering, why are men still so obsessed with telling women what to do? You'd think we could exercise that out of our humanity.

I don't know. I mean, the fight might be there to keep our seal up and to make us aware that it's not right, and that we have to take action. Maybe that's what it's all about. I don't know. It has to be so hard. Why does it have to be so hard?

The animal kingdom is very hard and very simple. The rules are very simple. The aggression is based on hunger and predatory, land grab, and survival. And maybe that's all that it is. It's survival. It's predatory, land grabbing, and knocking off the neighbor who's annoying you. That's sort of historically what it's all about. War and fighting and anger and ferocity is part of our planet, life. Everything has a time. And then it goes, and species die out. Ours may. I mean, we're sort of forcing that on the planet to get rid of us because we're damaging it so badly. We may get retribution from the planet. And maybe war is part of that retribution? I don't know. I don't know the answer to any of these questions, except that I do know that it's one day at a time. That is getting through your own battles and your own struggles with this degree of kindness, gentleness, and understanding.

If you can't see that on the planet, you have to do it in your life. To show gentleness, to show respect, to show forgiveness, to be an even handed neighbor and friend. The kindness to one another is essential. The fact that we can learn to hold our tongue unlike some of the forces around us, people who cannot hold their tongue and have to say everything on their mind. That takes us back to mental illness.

I wanted to ask you something about your dad. I think he woke up every day, I think I remember you telling the story of him maybe singing like Dorothy Dandridge.

Yeah.

And being smiling and kind of ready to work all the time and learn something new every day. And obviously, your dad was also an alcoholic who got the job done. But then you've also described him as you know, a blinded man in a sighted world which  could be a beautiful metaphor, but also quite literal, in his life, but that joy that you talked about, that your dad brought to every day—smiling, ready to work and learn something new—what are some of those things that he taught you either directly or indirectly by example that you kind of bring to your work every day and maybe want to amplify even more this year?

Yeah, show up on time. Your work to the best of your ability. Always be present. Always be cooperative, always be enthusiastic. Always be happy. I mean, he was happy most of the time except if he was dead drunk. But, you know, that's the challenge. He overcame it. He knew how to do what he had to do. And I learned that from him. I had the benefit of discipline. In terms of my studies, I had to practice several hours a day. I had to show up. I had to do my homework. I was helpful. I was industrious, and that's part of why I do what I do. I love to be happy. I can tell you that some people in my family think I'm a cockeyed optimist. Why am I cockeyed? I have to be an optimist. You have to think there is something beyond what's going on, which is going to come out well. And I think even in chaos and the death and the destruction that's happening. The other side of that—it's like the fire burning in the forest and the next spring, all the wildflowers come bursting out dancing around in their colors and their shapes and their shifts—we have to look beyond the depths into what can be the brightness of the outcome. That's what we have to think of.

Right, I know we're getting short on time. I wanted to squeeze in a couple more questions. I think you kind of alluded to this. You've said people lose sight of everything—and you were just talking about that big picture—but you also said they watch too much television. They're on social media too much, which is not surprising but then you also said, "I'm also guilty of that sometimes but I tried to stay away from it." I don't imagine you like doomscrolling on Twitter or Instagram much. Do you?

No, I tell you, I do my due diligence. I check my email. I check my Facebook page. My Facebook is really a wonderful place because I get things that I love. Lots of paintings. A lot of scenes of herding dogs, sheep dogs—they excite me a lot—and horses. I get a lot of rivers and wind and trees and things like that. So I dip in there but I don't stay very long. And last night we watched “Christmas Carol” with Alastair Sim. That's a yearly event—we always watch that—it's the best film.

Real quick, do you still do the Canadian Air Force exercises?

Well, I do everything I can to stay healthy. I run. I walk. I have a FitBit that tells me my steps; I quite often get 2,000 a day. I try to do my stretches. I try to work out. Now I have a trainer for my weight bearing exercises so that I can increase my bone mass. The Air Force Exercises, I don't know if I could do them now, but I'm pretty fit.

And last question. I want to revisit “Arizona” again. The stories it conjures up for you, whether it's being brought to the lung doctor after the ash alley gig, the custody battle with Peter, but what about the writing of a song like that? Does it sting emotionally to have to revisit all of that over and over until you land on lyrics and an arrangement you love?

Well, it was a long-term song. I started it years ago. I worked on it on and off. I put things in it that I liked, and eventually when I was writing songs with Ari Hest, that's where the whole concept of Spellbound came because when I was writing with him, I realized that I just had to get down to start writing a poem every day, and also finish some of the things that I've been working on. He was very helpful. It’s a very mysterious process. And I'm very grateful to have it in my life.

I'm very grateful that you made a little bit of room for me in your life this morning.

It’s been wonderful talking to you. You're very inspiring.

Thank you. You're also very inspiring and I'm proud to talk to you and I'm proud to tell my parents that I get to talk to you and your music has meant a lot to my family over the years. 

Have a beautiful holiday Happy New Year to you.

Enjoy those scarves. Happy New Year.

Bye bye.

[naipan]

A Singer Must Die - Leonard Cohen (live)

A Singer Must Die

Now, the courtroom is quiet but who will confess?

Is it true you betrayed us? The answer is yes

Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine

I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline

And all the ladies go moist and the judge has no choice

A singer must die for the lie in his voice

And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty

You're keepers, you keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty

Your vision is right, my vision is wrong

I'm sorry for smudging the air with my song

Oh the night, it is thick, my defenses are hid

In the clothes of a woman I would like to forgive

In the rings of her silk, in the hinge of her thighs

Where I have to go begging in beauty's disguise

Oh goodnight, goodnight, my night after night

My night after night, after night

After night, after night

I am so afraid that I listen to you

Your sun glassed protectors they do that to you

It's their ways to detain, their ways to disgrace

Their knee in your balls and their fist in your face

Yes, and long live the state by whoever it's made

Sir, I didn't see nothing, I was just getting home late

[goudavibrations]

Story Of Isaac

Leonard Cohen

The door it opened slowly

My father he came in

I was nine years old

And he stood so tall above me

Blue eyes they were shining

And his voice was very cold

Said I've had a vision

And you know I'm strong and holy

I must do what I've been told

So we started up the mountain

I was running he was walking

And his axe was made of gold

Well the trees they got much smaller

The lake a lady's mirror

We stopped to drink some wine

Then he threw the bottle over

Broke a minute later

And he put his hand on mine

Thought I saw an eagle

But it might have been a vulture

I never could decide

Then my father built an altar

He looked once behind his shoulder

He knew I would not hide

You who build the altars now

To sacrifice these children

You must not do it anymore

A scheme is not a vision

You never have been tempted

By a demon or a god

You who stand above them now

Your hatchets blunt and bloody

You were not there before

When I lay upon a mountain

And my father's hand was trembling

With the beauty of the word

And if you call me brother now

Forgive me if I inquire

Just according to whose plan

When it all comes down to dust

I will kill you if I must

I will help you if I can

When it all comes down to dust

I will help you if I must

I will kill you if I can

Have mercy on our uniform

Man of peace or man of war

The peacock spreads his fan

[autdormiautlacta]

The Story of Isaac (from Songs from a Room by Leonard Cohen, 1969

The door it opened slowly,

my father he came in,

I was nine years old.

And he stood so tall above me,

his blue eyes they were shining

and his voice was very cold.

He said, "I've had a vision

and you know I'm strong and holy,

I must do what I've been told."

So he started up the mountain,

I was running, he was walking,

and his axe was made of gold.

Well, the trees they got much smaller,

the lake a lady's mirror,

we stopped to drink some wine.

Then he threw the bottle over.

Broke a minute later

and he put his hand on mine.

Thought I saw an eagle

but it might have been a vulture,

I never could decide.

Then my father built an altar,

he looked once behind his shoulder,

he knew I would not hide.

You who build these altars

now to sacrifice these children,

you must not do it anymore.

A scheme is not a vision

and you never have been tempted

by a demon or a god.

You who stand above them now,

your hatchets blunt and bloody,

you were not there before,

when I lay upon a mountain

and my father's hand was trembling

with the beauty of the word.

And if you call me brother now,

forgive me if I inquire,

"Just according to whose plan?"

When it all comes down to dust

I will kill you if I must,

I will help you if I can.

When it all comes down to dust

I will help you if I must,

I will kill you if I can.

And mercy on our uniform,

man of peace or man of war,

the peacock spreads his fan.

[g0dr0t]

Leonard cohen would forgive me

[pinkcupboardwitch]

Two Bros Platonically Conquering Rome: listen here

“Agrippa doesn’t want your power. He wants your love.”

-

Tracklist and selected lyrics with historical annotations below:

Holding Out for a Hero by Bonnie Tyler (Philippi and Actium)

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

-

Aventine by Agnes Obel

One step ahead, a thousand miles

A trail ablaze to the Aventine

-

Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) by Eurythmics

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

-

No Surrender by Bruce Springsteen

We made a promise we swore we'd always remember

No retreat, baby, no surrender

Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend

-

Blood Brothers by Luke Bryan

I got a scar on my cheek from a bar room brawl

Wasn't meant for me but I took the fall

It's a cowboy code, it's an unwrote law

When you mess with one you gotta take us all

-

I’m Your Man by Leonard Cohen

If you want a father for your child 

Or only want to walk with me a while 

Across the sand 

I'm your man 

-

Certain Things by James Arthur

And there's certain things that I adore

And there's certain things that I ignore

But I'm certain that I'm yours

-

Skulls by Bastille

Hold me in your arms, hold me in your arms

I'll be buried here with you

And I'll hold in these hands all that remains

-

King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men

You’re my king and I’m your lionheart.

-

The Lightning Strike by Snow Patrol

Be the lightning in me

That strikes relentless

-

Sunlight by Hozier

Know that I would gladly be

The Icarus to your certainty

Oh my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Strap the wing to me

-

Brother by Kodaline

And if we hit on troubled water

I'll be the one to keep you warm and safe

And we'll be carrying each other

Until we say goodbye on our dying day

-

I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

You call the shots babe

I just wanna be yours

-

Follow You by Bring Me The Horizon

You got me on my knees, 

I'm your one-man cult

-

Always Gold by Radical Face

And they said you were the crooked kind

And that you'd never have no worth

But you were always gold to me

-

Two Men In Love by The Irrepressibles 

See me running, running, running, running, running

Running, running, running, running, running

Running, running, running, running, running

To you, from you, to you

-

Silence by Marshmello

I found peace in your violence

-

Better Than I Know Myself by Adam Lambert

I sometimes tend to lose my temper

And I cross the line

Yeah that's the truth

I know it gets hard sometimes

But I could never leave your side

No matter what I say

-

Eric’s Song by Vienna Teng

And of course I forgive

I've seen how you live

Like a phoenix you rise from the ashes

-

New York by St. Vincent (Cassius Dio 54.28.3: When [Augustus] learned of Agrippa's illness, he set out for Italy; and found him dead.)

I have lost a hero, I have lost a friend

But for you darling I'd do it all again

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (ii)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fem!oc, alcohol consumption, cursing

series masterpost: here

a/n: part two baby! thanks for all the love on part one, it means the absolute world. i have so much love for this story and i hope people are enjoying it :))

Life is settling into a comfortable rhythm.

After spending a good chunk of her young adult life being incredibly studious, Magdalene can finally have the social life of someone in their mid-twenties. Though she’s still spending a fair amount of time by herself in the basements of the University of Denver’s library, Bette convinces her to go out more. Magdalene tries to fight, citing extra work or a good book as an excuse to stay home, but it doesn’t work very often. The pleas of her friend are how Magdalene finds herself currently lounging poolside at Erik Johnson’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

“How’s the new career treating you?” Tyson asks. “I feel like we haven’t seen you in a while.”

Magdalene laughs. “I’ve seen Bette plenty,” she says, “She thinks I won’t take a lunch break unless she shows up.”

“Would you?” the blonde girl questions with a quirked brow.

“Probably not.”

“I rest my case.”

A small crowd gathers around as Magdalene begins to detail the specifics of her job, but she doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as she once would have. In the month or so since graduating school she’s found herself slowly being incorporated into the Avalanche family. It’s almost certainly because Bette and Tyson championed her case, explaining that she doesn’t have much of a support system beyond the two of them, but she doesn’t mind. A few of the guys ask her questions about her work, curious as to why someone would want to spend their life combing through piles of old things. Everyone stays engaged in the conversation until there’s a shout from the kitchen that dinner is ready.

Magdalene shuffles in line behind André, filling her plate with various pasta salads and a hamburger. Once situated with enough food for two meals she returns to the pool deck, sitting on the edge and dipping her toes into the cool water. Bette comes and finds her a minute later and the two of them begin to eat.

She’s still relatively new to the group’s dynamic, but Magdalene can’t help but notice that Ryan is never around. In fact, Magdalene hasn’t seen him since her graduation party. Taking a casual sip of her wine cooler, she asks her friend about the man’s absence.

“Why is Ryan never at these sorts of things?”

Bette shrugs. “Isn’t a huge one for parties. He was supposed to come today, but I guess something came up.”

“I’m not huge on parties,” Magdalene huffs, “But that doesn’t stop you from dragging me to every single one.”

“Unlike you, Gravy gets enough regular social interaction that his absence is permissible. If Tyson and I didn’t take you out you’d talk to your cat more than normal.”

She wants to fight back, but knows it’s pointless. Bette has a point – if it weren’t for her the only people Magdalene would interact with are her boss and her cat. Instead, she grumbles under her breath and changes the subject to the trip Bette is in the middle of planning. It’s coming up in a few weeks, and Magdalene wants to hear a bit more about it before she commits. Despite what she thought about taking time off so close to starting work, it was encouraged by June, but she's refraining from telling Bette that. If it doesn’t sound like she'll enjoy it, Magdalene is banking on being able to use the excuse.

Bette explains that she’s renting a large lake house that is perfect for a relaxing week away from adult responsibilities. The property has kayaks and a hot tub, which pretty much ensures that Magdalene will want to be in attendance. She’ll hold onto that information for a little while longer though, if for no other reason to make Bette squirm a little. At some point Tyson comes to sweep his girlfriend away and leaves Magdalene at the party alone. She makes polite conversation with some other players for a while before heading home herself. Ryan never shows up, despite how much Magdalene hopes he will. At the very least she wants to properly thank him for doing her a favour, though her hoping to see him is much more selfish. He intrigues her and she wants to know more about the tall man with the dazzling smile and a proclivity for wearing all black.

☼☼☼☼

Barn Owl Book Company is filled to the brim when Magdalene approaches the store from the side street it annexes. She should’ve expected it – it’s the first of the month and their newest books are hitting the shelves. However, Magdalene doesn’t exactly have time to wait in line. June gave her only fifteen minutes to run and grab them coffee before they continue the massive task of digitizing a private collection that has just been donated to the university. She estimates it will take almost a month of extended hours to get everything done, and Magdalene believes it. There’s so much to wade through but she knows the end result will be satisfying.

Luckily the café line is fairly short, and Magdalene reaches the counter in a timely manner. “Hey,” she greets the barista warmly, “Could I just grab two medium iced cappuccinos?”

“Anything else?”

“No, that's everything. It’ll be on debit,” she smiles. Magdalene reaches into her backpack to grab her wallet only to find that it’s missing. Shit. The barista has already left to make the drinks, completely unaware that her customer is unable to pay.

Magdalene hears a voice from behind her say, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” She turns around to find Ryan Graves standing there with a book tucked under his right arm.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she mumbles appreciatively. “I don’t know how my boss would take it if I showed up empty handed.”

Ryan laughs shyly as he pulls his card away from the machine. “I get it, everyone needs a little caffeine this time of year.” The barista comes back with Magdalene’s drinks, which she takes with a smile and a wish for a good day. The two of them head towards the exit, and Ryan pauses once they’re on the sidewalk. “Which way are you headed?”

“Back to work,” Magdalene says, nodding her head in the direction of campus. “I’ve got approximately five minutes to get there before June rips me a new one.”

“June?”

“She’s my boss,” she explains.

Ryan nods in understanding. “I’ll see you around Magdalene,” he smiles, turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction.

In a moment of bravery, Magdalene yells at his retreating figure. “Will you? We never seem to cross paths.”

“I’ll be at Bette and Tyson’s this weekend, and I’m counting on your company.”

Magdalene finds it incredibly hard to focus the rest of the afternoon. She keeps thinking about what Ryan said, which makes her a rather lousy archivist. June sends her home just after seven even though they had plans to stay until ten, citing the fact that she’s scanned the same photo three times before noticing. Caligula’s meowing for pets when she gets home isn’t even enough to distract her from the comment. The absentmindedness continues for another day or so, and it’s becoming so bad Magdalene is worried that June is going to fire her for incompetence.

It’s only when Bette calls to invite her over for dinner and drinks that her mind levels out. “I was wondering when I was going to get the call,” she chuckles absentmindedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” is the response Magdalene receives.

“Well,” she explains, “I ran into Ryan at Barn Owl the other day and he paid for my drinks because I left my wallet on the table at work, and he said he expected to see me at your place this weekend. So if you never invited me I was just going to show up.”

Bette is smiling, that much Magdalene can infer by the lull in conversation. “I haven’t got the time to call you yet,” she concedes, “But consider this the official invitation to our house for a small party.”

“Anything we’re celebrating?”

“Nope. Have you ever needed a reason to party?”

Magdalene laughs. “Yes. Need one almost every time actually.”

The rest of the week passes fairly quickly. To make up for her blundering earlier in the week Magdalene offers to work a full day on Saturday, by herself, to get the project back on track. June accepts the proposition eagerly, and Magdalene lets Bette know she’ll be coming directly from work. Saturday rolls around and she spends most of her time getting lost in the past lives of the artefacts she’s dealing with. If someone were to ask Magdalene what her favourite part of archiving is, that’s the answer she’d give. There’s nothing more satisfying to her than holding a piece of history in her hands and imagining all the stories it would be able to tell if it could speak.

By the time she’s put in a full work day and finishes locking up the basement floor her department occupies, Magdalene is pretty sure they’re ahead of schedule on the project. She genuinely feels terrible about her misperformance and hopes June will be able to forgive her. On the way to Bette and Tyson’s Magdalene listens to the Leonard Cohen greatest hits cd that came with her car. The previous owner was presumably a big fan, and over the years Magdalene has come to appreciate the folk singer. She never got to see him in concert before his death but turns to his music when she needs to relax. Right now is the perfect time to listen to ‘Hallelujah’ on repeat because she’s seriously freaking out about the idea of spending the night talking to Ryan. Though she still wants to properly thank him and possibly become friends, something about him makes Magdalene nervous.

There’s no way for her to tell if Ryan is there when she parks in front of the house. She doesn’t know what kind of car he drives, or if he caught a ride with someone. Magdalene debates texting Bette to see if he’s there already but decides against it, knowing she’s an adult who is more than capable of pushing down nerves.

She doesn’t bother knocking and just steps into the respectably sized home. The music is loud enough that no one would have heard her anyways. It’s much more of a party than Magdalene was expecting – Bette invited her for dinner and drinks, not a gathering that could pass as a frat party. There are bodies everywhere, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever catch a glimpse of her friend.

“You seem to be dressed for the wrong kind of party,” a voice chuckles from behind her.

Magdalene turns to see Ryan leaning against the wall, eyeing her business casual attire. “I came from work,” she explains, “And didn’t know it was this kind of party to begin with. I would’ve at least brought a change of clothes.”

“You look terribly out of place,” he agrees. “Can I grab you a drink? The hosts are too busy playing beer pong to, you know, be hosts.”

A giggle escapes Magdalene’s lips at the comment. Ryan seems to have a similar sense of humor to her, which will be beneficial for passing the time if Bette is already on her way to being wasted. “A glass of red wine would be nice.”

Ryan pushes off from his perch and heads towards the kitchen. The crowd parts for the six-foot-five hockey player, and Magdalene follows in his wake quite easily. Knowing the space as well as her, Ryan grabs a wine glass from the cupboard Bette keeps them in and pours the dark red liquid into it. He waits until Magdalene has situated herself on the island before handing her the cup. She takes it with an appreciative hum and waits until he’s grabbed a beer for himself before raising her glass in toast. Ryan does the same, and their glasses clink before each of them take a sip.

“What exactly is it that you do? I bet it’s something super cool and studious, but I seriously don’t know what the hell being an archivist means.”

Magdalene explains her job to Ryan, who is extremely interested. He asks nearly a hundred follow-up questions that she answers sincerely, throwing in a few jokes that luckily crack him up. Conversation moves to his career and then life. Magdalene learns that he’s from Nova Scotia, though he stays around Denver these days, and that if he wasn’t playing professional hockey he’d like to have a career in publishing. Ryan doesn’t press too hard when Magdalene refuses to open up about her family, which she appreciates. It’s a delicate subject that she keeps guarded close to her chest, and a friend’s kitchen in the middle of a party isn’t the place for her to divulge her deepest secrets.

The two of them get refills before exiting the room. Even more people seemed to arrive since Magdalene walked through the door, and the kitchen is no longer an empty safe haven. The music is so loud she can feel the bass thumping in her chest, giving the living room a club-like atmosphere, and it’s too much. Magdalene tugs at the hem of Ryan’s sweater to catch his attention. “Want to go somewhere quiet?”

“I doubt there is such a place,” he yells over the crowd going crazy over some early 2000s hip-hop track.

“Follow me,” she says with a smile, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the staircase to the second floor.

It takes a minute for them to wade through the throngs of people, but it goes much faster once Ryan takes Magdalene’s hand and splits the crowd. A few boys, who don’t look older than twenty-one and almost certainly snuck into the party, notice where the pair are going and shout congratulations. Ryan shoots them a glare so sharp it could cut stone but doesn’t drop Magdalene’s hand. Once safely on the much quieter second floor, Magdalene makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“Are you coming or what?” she asks when there doesn’t seem to be footsteps following her.

Ryan hesitates. “I, uh, can just wait out here while you’re in there,” he stammers.

Magdalene’s laugh rings out through the empty hallway. “I’m not going to the bathroom. We’re going out the window.”

He isn’t sure how that’s any better, but Ryan follows the brown-haired girl into the room. It takes considerably more work for him to fit through the frame, but after some directions from Magdalene he makes it onto the roof. She sits down and pats the space beside her, encouraging Ryan to do the same. They stay out there, discussing anything that comes to their heads, until the party’s numbers dwindle drastically. Magdalene makes sure to properly thank him for both attending her graduation and spotting her coffee money, and she thinks Ryan might blush a little when she offers to get the next round. He asks about her love of The West Wing, and they launch into a long conversation about the show and cast. The sun fades to black and the cold sets in, and Magdalene finds herself wrapped in Ryan’s sweater without asking. It’s only when she notices it’s approaching midnight that Magdalene clues into how tired she is.

“I think I’m going to head out,” she yawns. Ryan nods in agreement and holds the window open for her to slip in through. Once downstairs, Magdalene goes to lift the sweater from her frame but Ryan stops her.

“Keep it for drive home. I’ll get it back next time we see each other.”

Still feeling bold from the alcohol that left her system hours ago, she reaches out to poke him in the chest. “And when will that be, hm? You seem to enjoy leaving our meetings up to chance.”

It’s Ryan’s turn to laugh. “Think you can swing an extended lunch break on Wednesday? I’ll be at Barn Owl all afternoon. Maybe you can join me for a coffee.”

Magdalene likes the sound of that and agrees. She leaves without seeing Bette or Tyson once, but she doesn’t mind. They’d be happy for her blooming friendship – or at least she’s pretty sure they will be once she calls to fill them in on the details.

☼☼☼☼

Wednesday rolls around without incident, and Magdalene is given a full hour to eat instead of thirty minutes. Walking time has to be accounted for, of course, but she should have nearly forty-five minutes to spend with Ryan if she plays her cards right. There’s no crowd this time, and it’s incredibly easy to spot Ryan sitting in the window she loves to claim as her own.

“Hey,” Magdalene greets, “Did Bette tell you to sit here?”

He shakes his head, perplexed at the question. “No, why?”

“It’s just my favourite seat in the store, that’s all. I thought she told you how to gain some extra brownie points.”

“Should I be concerned about the amount of points I have?” Ryan teases, sliding a cup and pastry bag across the table and into her hands.

Magdalene shakes her head, smiling widely. “You’re doing alright so far. Keep up the good work.”

They eat at a comfortable pace, taking breaks to engage in interesting topics of conversation or take sips of their drinks. Ryan insists his life is boring, but Magdalene is enthralled by the stories he tells. It’s completely different from hers and she feels as though she can live vicariously through the tales of walking through the historic downs of the east coast and swimming in the Pacific Ocean on days off in California. After squeezing every story possible from the man Magdalene shifts gears slightly.

“So, are you going on the trip in a couple of weeks?”

“It’s looking that way,” Ryan shrugs with relative indifference, “Nate doesn’t think he’ll be able to come back, something about a development camp he’s running having the dates switched. He’s asked me to take his spot.”

His neutral mood confuses her. When Bette mentioned his probable attendance months ago, it sounded like he was enthusiastic about spending a week with friends doing nothing to swimming and drinking. “You don’t want to go?” Magdalene probes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but sometimes the group parties a little harder than I like to,” he sighs, raising a hand and running it through his hair. That’s something she understands completely, having spent a few too many nights being the sober one out.

“I’ll be there.” It’s Magdalene’s turn to shrug, but the comment holds an incredible amount of hope.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

Was Ryan flirting with her? She spends the rest of lunch thinking about the possibility, and truthfully, it occupies her brain for the rest of the day. However, she keeps her focus and June is none the wiser to the butterflies in her stomach. Work finishes without much fanfare, and her dinner is silent save for the few meows of conversation Caligula offers. It’s late by the time Magdalene falls into bed, cat snuggled into the pillow beside her. On a whim she decides to check Instagram and sees a message request from none other than the man who’s smile has been replaying in her mind. A follow request accompanies it.

Thought that maybe we could quit leaving our meetings to chance and plan something next time :)

He has to be flirting. There’s no other explanation for the witty banter they’ve shared this week, or why he’s reaching out to her on social media. The butterflies in her stomach multiply tenfold as Magdalene types out a reply.

I don’t know, it’s kind of fun being shrouded in mystery. However, I now have the opportunity to stalk your profile ;)

Before she can overthink her use of the emoji, Magdalene shoves her phone in the drawer of her nightstand and rolls over. A slight smile can’t help but appear on her features as she falls asleep, already curious about what his reply will be.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds (add yourself to the taglist!)

[swordhearte]

Another unsent letter.

I would be foolish not to admit again that I am often stumped by the innate process of putting my thoughts onto paper, but I've found it’s even more difficult for me, as it has always been so, to put down in any tangible fashion my thoughts about you.

I think about that letter Leonard Cohen wrote to Mariam Ilhen, more than I should. How he wrote “You are too much in my heart to put anything down.” with such distinction the world recognizes it years later. 

And isn’t it strange how when certain words are familiar to you, when your heart identifies with a sentence so profoundly, that it is as if someone else knew the very thing imprinted on your soul and made a name for it? 

I suppose I could start where I never fail to begin these days which is: I miss you. I wonder if I’ll ever stop. There has to be an end somewhere doesn’t there? I mean with grief and longing, they can’t go on forever can they? 

Yet I see no ending in sight and partly for this, I’m glad, because without those things there might not be anything left. 

I hear a song and I think of you, I want to go some place new and you are still the first person I want to invite,. Some section of my brain, muted, so that I can’t hear it, probably never stops thinking about you because I sweep the carpet at work and I’m rehearsing inviting you to go to the art museum with me on a trip that will likely never transpire. 

The thing is I know, I know, that you probably don’t miss me as much as I do you and that’s alright. That isn’t your fault, it isn’t something that you can help, and if it does hurt me it does not do so because of those reasons. I don’t expect you to exist with the same intensity that I have but if you miss me a centimeter of the amount I’ve missed you, if you think about me a quarter of the time that I’ve thought of you, that would be enough. 

If I could be sure that you loved me still, love as minuscule as an atom even, I would feel satiated. But I can’t be sure and I’m not, which is made worse when I remember how you used to love me enough to write me. When your name would cause my phone to flicker to life multiple times a day, a quick text here and there, a weekly check-up at least, and looking back on it I could have appreciated it even more than I had. I should have cherished those moments despite there having been this unspoken assumption between both of us that more moments like that were sure to happen.

If there were any epiphanies that this chain of events has solidified in my mind is how I’ve found that love with me, is indistinguishable from tragedy. I react to it exactly the same way. 

Maybe if I could explain this to you I could make you understand why I could never love you how you wanted me to when we were fourteen, fifteen, or seventeen. Regardless, I want you to know that our friendship, make no mistake, was just as heart-felt and influential as any romance could ever be. At least it was for me and my love for you, as platonic as it was, was never-ending.

So if I miss you a little too much I hope you’ll forgive that tendency and if I’d like some kind of closure before giving up on us I hope you’ll understand why.

Your friend, O.