#RECORD IT IN THE STUDIO AND POST IT YOU COWARDS ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

poetic-emptiness-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

When the Sun Goes Out (Echoes of the Past 13: Aftermath)

I’m a little late with this (that’s what you get, when you leave your school work for the last minute), but here it is! I hope you like it!

Characters: Hande Kuura, Helena Kuura, Sardar Gul, Asra Alnazar, Julian Devorak, Muriel, Nadia Satrinava, Azita Torkan (mentioned) & Sargon Hakimi (mentioned)

Content warnings: mention of blood & hallucinations

Words: ~2 550

@arcana-echoes

Hande is sitting at her writing desk. She can feel the nausea creeping in and her red eyes keep staring at the piece of parchment in front of her. How to tell a person that you're dying, especially when he's probably going to blame himself for it? It doesn't help, that the person has become so close, so dear to her... She doesn't want to hurt him, but it'd hurt more if she didn't inform him. Trying not to cough blood on the paper, she carefully writes, corrects and writes again. Finally, she's satisfied and transcribes the final version. But then, how to end the letter?

”Remember not to give up” – no, too demanding...

”I will never forget you” – ugh, too cheesy and depressing...

Hande becomes frustrated – she doesn't have much time and there's still so much to do. Without thinking, she writes a sentence she had kept close to her chest for months: ”I love you.”

Hande stares at the sentence. What is she thinking? She can't just blurt that out to her teacher! Especially not in a letter where she confesses, that she's going to die! Way to go, Hande: you failed at your promise not to give your heart to anyone and now you're going to die, how great... And why should she embarrass Julian, he surely isn't feeling the same – why would he? Hande rises from her chair, takes the letter and goes to the kitchenette. She opens the stove and puts the letter in it. ”Azar, I need you to burn it,” she whispers. The stove salamander does as told and flames start eating the parchment. Hande watches it burn and then returns to her desk. She starts over again, now knowing a proper ending for her letter...

Julian is standing in front of his office desk, reading a letter with a familiar handwriting. His hands are trembling slightly, but he doesn't seem to realise it.

-- It's been an honour to get to know you; I will warmly recall your kindheartedness, your fascinating stories and your harebrained jokes.

Thank you for everything and be well!

Yours truly,

Hande

No. No. Not Hande... Julian reads the letter again, but it's not dated – so unusual for Hande. Well, if she thinks he's going to leave her just die alone at the Lazaret, she's wrong. Julian grasps his coat and mask and heads to the docks. Since he's a doctor, he doesn't need to persuade an oarsman to take him with the patients to the Lazaret. Without hesitation he strides inside the main building and notices a nurse serving as an attendant. ”Good afternoon. How can I help you?” greets the nurse. Julian gulps and approaches them, trying to sound like a person with authority, ”Good afternoon. May I inquire about one of your patients, Hande Kuura? I'd like to see her, if you will?” The nurse then opens a big journal and starts to leaf through it. Well, at least they keep records of their patients... Julian thinks. After a while the nurse's finger stop at a certain point of a page and she stares it for a moment. Julian doesn't like the fact he's not able to read the nurse's face because of the mask they're wearing.

Suddenly the nurse breaks the silence, ”I'm sorry... I triple-checked it, but there isn't but one Hande Kuura in our records. She has died, almost a month ago. The exact date is 18th of January.” Julian freezes to his place, speechless. No, no, no... This isn't real, this is just a bad dream and he will soon wake up. He actually pinches himself, but he feels the pain... Shit... ”Oh... uhm... Okay. Well... I must get going, thank you for informing me,” and with that he turns on his heels and leaves the building. He takes the first boat that goes back to Vesuvia and then wanders to the Palace like a zombie. The doctor doesn't see, hear or feel anything. Suddenly he notices he's in a library, at his desk. He sits down, takes of his mask and starts to fiddle his fingers, staring at the wood and papers laying around on it.

”Doctor Devorak? Are you alright?” a silky voice asks. Julian startles and raises his gaze. ”C-countess Nadia! I didn't notice you are here!” he exclaims and stands up hastily. Countess Nadia watches him with worried expression on her face, ”Please, you don't need to stand up for me.” Julian tumbles back to his seat and starts to tremble slightly. Nadia repeats her question about Julian's well-being, to which he just waves, ”I'm fine, really. I'm having the time of my life...” He sounds way too cheerful – almost hysterical – and Countess Nadia notices it. ”Please, doctor... I can see you are not fine. I know we haven't talked a lot, but unlike my husband, I hope you find me trustworthy. I have seen, how hard you're working to find a cure for this disease.” Julian's trembling gets worse and he clenches his hands into fists. He doesn't dare to meet the Countess' gaze, but mumbles, ”She... Hande... My apprentice... She... She's dead...” Julian sniffs and without a warning tears start to flow along his cheeks. ”My... Hande is dead, she's dead... My gods, SHE'S DEAD!” Now he covers his face with his hands and the only word his outburst could be described, is bawling.

The Countess remembers Hande. Wasn't she the daughter of that architect who designed her bedroom and contemplation tower? Her parents clearly loved her very much, and it seemed she was their only child. Nadia covers her mouth with her hand – she really feels sorry for Hande, her parents and the doctor here. He clearly cared about her, too. Nadia isn't sure what to do – she doesn't know Julian very well – so she puts her other hand on his shoulder and pats it comfortingly. ”I'm so sorry... She really was a remarkable young woman...” Nadia whispers. Julian just keeps trembling and crying, unable to stop. Hande is dead, and it's your fault. She died alone in that horrible place and you didn't even bother to check on her sooner! The woman you claimed to love is dead, and you kept it all to yourself! She died abandoned, thinking no one cared for her, although she meant the whole world to you! Much of a catch you are, ditching the people you claim to care for... Why are you alive, while she died, although it should be the other way round? You pathetic coward, you didn't deserve her and now she's dead because of you! My darling, dear Hande... I'm so sorry...

***

Days are still quite cold in Karnassos, but little by little the weather is warming up. Both Sardar and Helena have taken a day off and try to relax. There hasn't been any letters from Vesuvia for a few months, but Sardar and Helena have assumed, that their daughter is so busy with apprenticing that she hasn't any time to write. Knock on the door, it must be the post. Maybe this time there will be a letter from Hande. Sardar goes to open, thanks the mailman and goes back to the living room. Just a couple of letters from work and then probably some commission for Helena... Oh. And a letter in a handwriting he doesn't recognise. He sits on a pillow, opens the letter and starts to read.

15th February 836, Vesuvia

Dear Mrs. Kuura & Mr. Gul,

It is my deepest sorrow to inform you, that your daughter, Hande Kuura, has passed away on 18th of January 836. She came down with the Red Plague without anyone knowing, and traveled to the Lazaret, Vesuvia's quarantine island for the sick, by herself. Her body was cremated and buried on the island.

My deepest condolences to you. I can only imagine how great your suffering is, and I must admit, I hoped I didn't need to contact you to give you bad news – Hande always spoke so highly of you. I was her teacher at medicine, and I'm devastated to lose such a radiant person.

The reason I write to you this late, is that I only found about her passing yesterday. I was asked to go working to the Palace a few months ago, and then Hande took care of my clinic near the South End. I'm ashamed to admit, that I was so busy with my work, I didn't have time to check on her, and when I finally was able, it was too late. I'm so sorry for not taking good enough care of your daughter, my apprentice – that is one of my greatest regrets.

During her time as my apprentice, Hande was hardworking and compassionate – my patients grew very fond of her, and she proved to be a magnificent colleague. Over time she also became a good friend of mine. I know this isn't going to replace your loss, but your daughter fought bravely to help the others until the end. I'll send her belongings to you later – I hope they'll bring you even a bit of comfort.

I promise I'm doing my best to find a cure for this disease and to prevent it spreading outside of Vesuvia. I'm so sorry I couldn't save your daughter.

Yours respectfully,

Dr. Julian Devorak

Sardar just stares at the letter. Hande, her brave firstborn... Gone? His hands start to tremble and tears to flow down his cheeks. ”Na¹... NA!” he cries desperately. What has he done wrong to lose his children, both of his darling little girls? ”Darling, what's wrong?” Helena asks and comes to the living room to see her husband in tears. Sardar can't answer, but raises his hand a little to show the letter. A bad feeling takes over Helena's body. Hesitantly she takes the letter and reads. The letter drops from her hands. At first she just stares at the floor where the letter lies, but then she walks to her studio and closes the door behind her.

Helena leans on the door, trying to process what she just had read. Hande. Dead. All of her children gone, because of that cursed city and its incompetent leader... She had somehow managed to keep herself together, when Salma died, but now they're both dead and that's just more than Helena can bear. She slides down the door until she slumps onto the floor. She starts rocking herself and grabs her hair with her hands, almost tugging. Helena feels like she's a 6-year-old girl again, when his father had to tell her and her siblings that her mother is never going to wake up again. Helplessness... Tears start to flow down and she can't stop them. A howl escapes from her mouth and when the heaviness inside her starts to feel overwhelming, she shouts, ”PERKELE²!!!” Tugging her hair and cursing she bawls, only her clothes as her company.

After a while Helena hears a knock on the door. ”My love? Please, can I come in?” Sardar asks, sounding unsure. He has heard Helena's outburst and has never experienced her acting like that. It breaks his heart, and he doesn't want her to grieve alone. After a moment he hears Helena move and then the door opens. Helena looks horrible, but Sardar surely isn't any better with his swollen eyes. Carefully Sardar steps in, looking at his wife. Helena looks back, and they both can sense the desperation from one another. Sardar manages to give Helena a lopsided smile and opens his arms to her. Slowly Helena goes to her husband and hugs him back. They both start to cry again and slide onto the floor. ”Let it come out, my love,” Sardar sniffs, ”The world is testing us, but we'll survive this, together...”

***

2 weeks later

The home of Sardar Gul and Helena Kuura is filled with people, but instead of happy chattering, the atmosphere is quite grim. Everyone wears black and talk very quietly. Since Sardar and Helena didn't have a body to bury, they decided to organise a memorial service so that everyone who knew Hande could have an opportunity to bid her farewell. The couple had answered to Julian's letter and sincerely thanked him for informing them and for his kind words. They had also invited him to the memorial service, but unfortunately Julian couldn't attend – his work kept him extremely busy and the whole Vesuvia was closed, so no one could leave the city. Still, he sent Hande's parents a bouquet of sunflowers, Hande's favourites. When they opened the package, the sight of the flowers made Sardar cry from affection, and now the flowers are displayed next to a painting of Hande Sardar had made himself.

Many of their neighbours, Hande's former teacher, Azita and Helena's whole family has come to the event. All of them were shocked to learn Hande had died trying to save the plague-ridden city. Even Sargon asked if he can attend and Hande's parents agreed – although Sargon and Hande hadn't talked to each others in years, Sargon still had been Hande's friend before their break-up. Sardar and Helena are serving halva, Forestian pasties³, gravlax and sandwich cake. People are taking turns, sharing some memories of Hande – especially Azita's speech is very moving. The ceremony is very beautiful and respectful, but still, all who have been close to Hande, are wondering the same thing: how can they carry on without Hande, now that soon they will all have time to concentrate on their grief, and nothing else?

***

It is so strange. With her gone. She was like a sun, warming and radiating to even darkest of places. And still she just wilted away... Just like the others... Bleeding and hallucinating... And I saw it. She didn't even recognise me. It never happened before. She recognised me even after all those years... She was always so kind to me. Not afraid of me even as kid. Don't know why. She healed my wounds and gave me food, although I was a scary gladiator. After she became friends with Asra... Still, she didn't shut me out. And I still was jealous... I was so stupid... Even when Asra left, she took time to visit me. Even when she was exhausted, she came and brought food... I didn't deserve it... I had to dig her grave... See how her remains were just dumped there... It felt so wrong. She deserved better. I think I miss her, but I can't show it... Must stay strong. I can't inform Asra, I don't know where he is. His heart will break when he finds out...

***

March 836

”Thank you, my friend,” Asra smiles to the Beast and gives it water chestnuts. He's in the field and the familiar silhouette of Vesuvia looms in the distance. Home. Asra's been gone for over a year, but now he's ready to return. Return to Hande. Hopefully she's forgiven him... He needs to visit the shop first – Muriel can wait a little longer. He takes a deep breath of the fresh air and starts to walk to the town determination in his steps. I'm sorry I ran away, Hande. Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again.

TRANSLATIONS:

¹ ”No”

² A curse word in Hongas, usually translated as ”damn it”

³ a fantasy version of Karelian pasty

If you want to read Azita’s speech, it can be found here.

My AO3

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #Hande the Apprentice #Asra Alnazar #Julian Devorak #Muriel #Nadia Satrinava #fanfic #my writing #my work #angst #arcana eotp

6 notes · View notes

darawonplease · 5 years ago

Text

trauma. ch3 - it could’ve been anyone.

The more Jiwon avoids getting involved, the more he’s captured by the woman he considered just a bubbly hoobae.

characters. Eun Jiwon x Sandara Park

warnings. swearing

a.n. I’ve been working on this chapter as soon as I finished posting the previous one and I seriously had too much going on so I heavily edited it to make it more manageable.

Thanks to another poll on twitter I finally decided the title for this chapter!

“it could’ve been anyone” was the most popular choice.

chapter 3, it could’ve been anyone.

[dara pov]

The tent bar in the distance started blurring out, my vision started to spin before my very eyes. I tried hard to walk straight in front of me, in the attempt to reach Jiwon-oppa who was distanced himself to have a call with my phone.

“P-please don’t call Wonjun-ssi…”. I pleaded him, tugging the fabric on his sleeve to catch his attention.

“Wonjun-ssi? Who is he?”.

“M-mana-".

“Is he your manager?”.

“N-ne..my manager-nim… I’ll be in t-trouble and I don’t want to bother him, it’s late”.

He glanced at me, furrowing his brows. It felt as if he was debating whether to help me hide this unscheduled night outing or just call Wonjun-ssi and get over it.

Lately I started to avoid riding the company’s car, I had proof they monitored me 24/7 and it bothered me so much. I was already locked up in my flat and having them control my every movement just made me feel suffocated.

“I’ll call a cab for you then, is that okay?”.

My heart overflowed with gratitude; I couldn’t believe he’d accept to do that so readily, even going to the lengths of calling himself when I could’ve done that myself.

oppa is so kind...

He probably felt pity for me, knowing how much my manager would scold me for bothering him at this hour because I was drunk.

i’m such a bad girl huhu~

sneaking out from wonjun-ssi kekeke~

chaerin-ah, look out for the new gizibe in town!

I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on Jiwon-oppa’s figure.

“Yes, we’re in the street in front of the market”. He gave instructions on the phone.

why is everything moving in front of me?

I could swear I was standing perfectly still but, If I closed my eyes, I’d be almost sure to be the passenger on a rocky boat ride.

“A-ah!”. I tripped onto seemingly nothing and crashed against Jiwon-oppa, who immediately held onto me.

My face slammed onto his chest; I couldn’t help but inhale the musky cologne he wore, as I buried my face in his hoodie.

♥ kung kung kung kung kung kung ♥

His heart beat incredibly fast, I could hear it pounding in my ears. Anything else muted as I focused on the sound hammering in his chest.

omo? what am I doing?

why am I being like this?

i shouldn’t fall for him

don't fall for him dara.

just don’t.

I swallowed up, the soju still intoxicating my body. I knew that the liquor gave me the courage I honestly didn’t want to possess.

I hated falling so hard for him when he didn’t even look at me.

I hated the fact that he gave me courage.

don't be a fool.

The guilt I felt for making him feel uncomfortable because of my stupid feelings. But then again, why did he invite me out if he wanted to avoid me so bad?

What if he was yet another man to play with my innocence?

Guilt, sadness, rage and soju mixed up inside my stomach, coming out of my mouth as incomprehensible murmurs as I tugged on his hoodie.

I’m so foolish, please forgive me.

I’m so foolish for falling for someone who doesn’t even look at me.

“I-I’m sorry Jiwon-oppa…”. The words I locked deep down came out as I thought of them.

“W-what do you mean?”. His husky voice lurked in my ears because of our bodies being so close together.

“I’m sorry for liking you this much”.

My entire being was invested in discomfort, dizzy and dazed, my mouth moved by itself.

“I-If you don’t like me back just say it!”. I tried screaming at the top of my lungs, but the dryness in my throat prevented me from doing so. A croaky whisper came out of my lips instead, as I buried my face in his clothes even deeper, to hide my tears.

“I…”.

I slammed my fist onto his chest, one time, two times, stronger after every attempt; he did not move an inch.

“D-DON��T PLAY ME, JUST BECAUSE I LIKE YOU!”.

My fist flew in the air once again, ready to hit him out of frustration, but he swiftly blocked my arm with his right hand, holding my wrist firmly.

“w-why’d you bother me if you don’t want me...?”. I muttered under my breath.

“Stop it”.

I looked up at him, trying to find his face in the blurry mess I saw through my eyes.

“y-you s-stop playing with me…”.

My pleading was blocked by the urge to cry, tears were already spilling from my eyes, not matter how hard I tried to keep them locked away.

“That’s not it”. He stated, still holding my arm.

“THEN WHY, S-STUPID EUN CHODING! WHY WOULD-“.

Jiwon-oppa suddenly let go of my hand, pulling me into a tight embrace instead.

I could hear it again, his heart pounding like crazy, even if he looked perfectly calm.

“m-mwo…?”.

He rested his chin onto my head, caressing my back slowly, like a father that is trying to calm down his own kid.

“I’m not”. He repeated.

I broke the embrace and stepped back, still uncertain of his sincerity.

He stepped towards me, slowly, before looking away for a second and biting his lips.

what is he doing?

His hand gently cupped my cheek, his gaze slowly moving from my eyes to my scrubbed lips.

No matter how chilly that night was, his skin against mine felt feverish.

He bent down slightly, never diverting his gaze from me. His face became closer and closer towards me, I could feel his slow breathing.

[jiwon pov]

~ H O N K ~

The taxi driver honked, startling Sandara, who stepped back with her wobbly legs.

way to ruin the moment, huh?

It was fascinating how that girl made me lose control over my actions.

first, she makes me flee from the studio and then she brings me to kiss her when really, I wanted to reject her?

this girl is really something else.

I was debating myself whether it was the soju in my bloodstream moving my body or the hormones. Deep down I knew those were just petty excuses.

No matter how lonely and drunk I was, I never managed to do those sorts of things, even when beautiful women tempted me. I just couldn’t.

All I could see was Sooyeon’s face. Even quickly peeking at other women made me feel unfaithful, even after years and years had passed from our divorce, the moment our love withered.

That was the first time the memory I had of her didn’t interrupt me from getting closer to another women.

no way.

i'm fucking tipsy.

It may have been for the best. It would’ve been wrong to do anything since she was so wasted, I didn’t want to take advantage of Dara in that way.

I shook my head and walked towards the car while the driver slowly rolled down his window. Dara closely followed me, stumbling on her feet.

“Ok so this is the address-…”.

I instructed the taxi driver to take care of her until she arrived home safely, he nodded after I handed him a decent amount of money for the ride, he really couldn’t hide the joy on his face as soon as he reached for the bills.

“T-thank you… -“. Dara mumbled, looking at me with watery eyes.

“I trust you to go back home safely, can you do that?”.

“N-ne oppa”.

“Take care”.

The driver got out of the taxi to help her get into the backseat as I waved them goodbye. It was for the best, separating prevented me from doing anything I could regret tomorrow morning.

was I really going to kiss her?

what's gotten into me?

i must be crazy.

With the task at hand handled I started walking the other direction, wondering what time I’d be home.

I knew I had another day of recording ahead of me and drinking and smoking weren’t exactly the best preparations for that, added to the fact I was still in the centre of Seoul, 30 minutes away from my apartment.

I sighed as I headed towards the main street; I could stop a taxi from the side of the road because calling one wasn’t a choice. My phone was dead, that’s why I lent dara’s to call her a cab.

~ parararing parararing ~

“What?”.

I reached inside the pocket of my coat, grabbing the phone that was vibrating in it.

Manager-nim ~

7 missed calls.

this must be Dara’s phone.

sandara's phone.

ack- what a fool, I haven’t returned it yet.

“Aish- how could I forget that?!”. I panicked on the spot.

I was so focused calming her down that I totally forgot to give her back the phone.

I rushed back, hoping with all my being for the cab to still be there.

“AAAAAAAAH!”.

A terrorizing scream almost made me shit in my pants, stopping me in my tracks.

“What the hell is going on today?”. I thought to myself.

“STOP IT!”.

I quickly scanned the street for the source of noise, the sidewalk was deserted, all I could see were two figures in the distance.

oh no.

“DON’T TOUCH ME YOU PIG”.

It was Dara who was struggling, trying to take the driver’s disgusting hands off of her with all of her force.

I immediately bolted towards the piece of shit, my blood boiling with rage as I witnessed him wrapping his arms around her small figure.

“SON OF A BITCH, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?!”.

“I-I didn’t do a thing”. He excused himself, removing his claws from the poor girl after seeing me come back with such speed.

“PERVERT!”.

I was ready to make the fool spit his own blood, ignoring all of the consequences that would’ve come with that but Dara stepped back as soon as he released his grip on her body and slapped him so hard that the sound reverberated in all of the plaza, leaving a red mark on his cheek.

yeah.

i should remind myself not to make her angry.

The driver fell on his ass, his face badly distorted by the pain.

Shocked by the whole situation the coward crawled to his seat, starting the engine of his car and quickly leaving the scene, still holding his cheek in pain.

“GET LOST YOU BASTARD!”. I yelled like a crazy person, in the middle of the road, as the car drove away.

I turned my attention back to Dara, her body trembled as she hugged herself.

how could I leave her alone with that dirty ajhussi?

how could I do that?

I felt sorry for letting her go so easily, for letting her become a prey of the night. Had she been assaulted? Had she been molested? I wouldn’t had forgiven myself for being so reckless.

Dara dropped to the floor, crying her eyes out. Her sobbing only increased the guilt I felt.

“W-why do I always have to be men’s prey?...” she sniffled, uselessly trying to dry the tears that were cascading down her face.

She probably experienced that kind of harassment quite often. I could see why wolves would prey on such an innocent bunny. The fact she wasn’t great at drinking being another reason why she probably looked so appetizing to those animals.

had I payed attention…

had I been more careful.

i’ll become a lion and protect you.

no.

It’s not my business.

but it’s my fault…

I knelt to the ground to approach her, hesitating in patting her back. I sucked at comforting people.

I couldn’t believe I almost gave her away to a dirty bastard. I couldn’t forgive myself after seeing her break down like that.

“A-are you okay?!”.

She ignored my questions and rubbed her eyes only to get back up, wobbling towards the bus stop.

what is she trying to do?

“Hold up, I’ll call another taxi”.

“D-don’t, oppa”. Her voice was still so croaky for crying so much, both times being my fault.

“W-wait!”. I yelled, following her as she stumbled around.

She tripped on her feet, landing on her ass.

“I’ll go call another taxi, stay here, ok?”. I signaled her to stay where she was with my hand while I walked the opposite way.

She simply nodded.

I rushed to the main street, hoping that she’d be okay for the few seconds I felt her alone. A taxi approached me as I called one at the end of the sidewalk.

I instructed the cab driver to drive into the inner venue as he stopped his car near me to listen.

I then sprinted back to Dara, who was still sitting in the same spot I left her. I heaved a sigh of relief as she wasn’t kidnapped in that small window of time I didn’t check up on her.

“Come on up, grab my hand”. She extended her arm and grasped my palm, helping herself stand up again.

“What if it happens again?”, she whispered in my ear.

“That won’t happen”.

“H-how can you be so sure?”.

She looked at me with her swollen eyes.

“Because I’ll be right here”.

[…]

I kept attentive all the way, I couldn’t let any other accident happen. I was focused on the road, making sure we were going in the right direction when her head dropped on my shoulder suddenly.

I turned to look at her who fell asleep peacefully. I couldn’t wrap my head around how pretty she looked in such a vulnerable state. People usually look their worst when sleeping. The night lights illuminated her small and delicate face.

I spent the entire way trying to stay perfectly still, not to interfere with her nap, no matter how incredibly uncomfortable I felt in that position. That was the least I could do for her after making her experience such a terrible night.

[…]

A couple of turns and I saw the arcade on my left; that was the sign we were near her flat.

I looked back at her, it was so hard to bring myself to interrupt her serene slumber.

“…hey…we’re here”, I gently whispered while tapping on her shoulder to help her wake up.

[…]

The condo she lived in was a tall building, certainly fit to a celebrity. I lived in a similar structure too.

I fished out the keys out of her bag and opened the gate to the building, she held my arm tightly, trying hard to walk at my speed.

A tall guard stood by the door. He glared at me as he recognized Dara by my side.

The lobby looked like the entrance of a hotel: it wasn’t pretentious or decorated with statues and gold chandeliers, however I could tell each and every piece of furniture was very expensive. How? Just trust me.

If I leave her here, she’d be capable to sleep in the hallway.

She barely stood up by herself, i just couldn’t shake the guilt out of my body. I needed to take her to her bed myself. I wasn’t going to leave her alone again.

“32th floor”. She mumbled as we got into the elevator.

She kept resting her head on the wall; I could tell how exhausted she was. It was a miracle she was still standing on her own two feet. Or kind of.

The floor we landed on had a long-ass beige carpet running all through the hallway. I looked around, not sure If we were in an actual hotel or something.

my condo doesn’t look as nice as this tho.

Dara pointed at the last door on the right. She was so tired she barely opened her mouth since we hopped on the taxi.

I opened the door to her flat with the keys still in my hands.

She crawled inside, only to flop onto the floor. Carefully removing my shoes, I entered the apartment too, remembering to lock the door after me.

An herbal smell filled my nose, she probably had an aroma diffuser somewhere in the living room.

maybe I should get one too.

I turned on the lampstand beside her couch and helped her take off her sneakers, they were those kicks GD customized.

they sure are close, without a doubt.

I quietly looked around; somehow the interior of her flat perfectly suited dara’s bubbly personality. There were many cute displays and colorful frames all over the walls.

~ meeeow ~

A cat approached me, it looked more like a miniature tiger.

“You must be… what was your name again?”.

I paused, scratching my head and trying hard to remember her pet’s name.

“Dadoong-i? Was it Dadoong-i?”.

I knelt to the ground to scratch his head as he kept circling my leg, purring and meowing.

“I stole your owner for a couple of hours, aren’t you mad at me?”.

He kept purring, ignoring the conversation I was trying to have with him.

“You don’t understand me, right? It’s okay”. I chuckled by myself.

I knew it was incredibly rude of me to explore her house without her consent, but I couldn’t restrain myself from giving in to the curiosity.

What struck me the most was the presence of multiple frames which contained old photos of 2NE1. I could recognize some of the live performances they were taken at. I remember bumping into them on music show back in the day, when I still used to do the MC.

she probably misses those days.

“S-so hot…”. I heard her whining and turned my attention towards her. She was removing her jacket; the warmth of the alcohol probably giving her a hard time.

“Let me help you”.

I grabbed her jacket and laid it onto the side of her couch.

I looked back at her as she struggled to remove her sweater, the shirt underneath stuck to it revealed her fit belly and chest.

“W-WAIT!”. I stuttered, covering my eyes to give her privacy.

“I’m still here- don’t remove all of your clothes yet!”. I reminded her before she could actually strip.

She crawled towards me and started tugging on the sleeve of my coat. “… p-please bring me clothes”.

“E-eh? How am I supposed to find those?!”.

She slumped back onto the floor, ignoring my questions.

Resigned at my caretaker role I opened various doors in search for her bedroom or closet.

bingo.

I quietly entered the bedroom and scanned it thoroughly to find her dresser. I couldn’t help but notice the rabbit plushie laid on her bed.

“What was his name again?”.

I remembered from watching a couple 2NE1TV episodes on the tv back in the day, that bunny plushie was Dara’s favorite one.

I started opening every drawer one by one until I stumbled on some cute pink panties with a cartoon hippo on the front.

“Cute…”, I giggled.

I opened the next one only to find some red lace panties.

“U-urgh...”.

I felt my cheeks become red like tomatoes. I closed shut the drawer and brought my hands to my face to contain my embarrassment.

“W-what am I doing?”. I mumbled.

she’s a grown-ass woman, it shouldn’t be surprising if she wore stuff like this. right?!

does she wear this on a daily basis or for special occasions?

can it be that she-…?

I removed the coat and hoodie I wore as I felt sweat dribble from my forehead, my body was getting hot at those less than holy thoughts.

whoo.

what am I thinking?

I resumed my mission and opened the next drawer to find a bunch of t-shirts folded up neatly. I took a random one and immediately rushed back to the living room.

She extended her arm to grab the shirt.

“P-please turn around …".

I quickly faced the wall to give her the privacy to undress. I could hear her fumbling with her hoodie, her bracelets clinking as they touched the ground while she was removing her clothes sitting on the floor.

“Are you okay?”- I slowly turned around, still covering my face with my palms.

With the corner of my eyes I noticed the sexy line running down her slim back, as she was inserting her head in the large white tee I threw her a couple of seconds before.

I swallowed my saliva and shook my head to remove those thoughts from my head. It wasn’t right for me to have those kinds of thoughts. I was just tipsy. That was all.

“Are you good?”. I faced her again

She started shivering while staring at the slightly open window; the curtain was flowing because of the small breeze that the small gap let in.

I got up and calmly walked towards the window, closing it after checking the view of Seoul’s night that was hidden behind the white curtain.

so that’s what she admires every night before going to sleep…

“I shall go then-“. I hurriedly tried to get to the door.

“p-please…”.

She tugged on the leg on my pants, signaling to stay.

Taking care of others when they were drunk wasn’t my forte, it was usually the other way around. I was the heavy drinker of the bunch. I refused to take on the role of the sober friend who takes everyone home. It wasn’t my style at all.

what am I going to do?

The guilt for the taxi driver accident motivated me enough to stay and take care of her. I felt like it was all my fault: the sudden date, her getting too drunk, the disgusting pig driver. It was only right to check up on her for a while but part of me wanted to run out of the door as soon as possible.

i’m a wolf too.

this sudden urge to put my claws around you…

aren’t you scared?

can I really take care of you?

Dara kept shivering; her small figure trembled under the dim lampshade light.

I rushed to her room again, keeping my feet light not to disturb her, and grabbed the blanket at the end of her bed, kidnapping the bunny plushie in the process too.

Meanwhile, she climbed on the leather couch, struggling a bit. She curled up as I put the blanket over her. I decided to place the rabbit by her side, which she immediately hugged.

A slight smile appeared on her face as she snuggled up in her new sleeping spot. I sat at the end of the couch, right beside her. I couldn’t help but stare at the sleeping beauty, expecting her to come up with some ugly expression.

It was unreal, she was indeed too pretty to be sleeping so peacefully after drinking so many glasses of soju.

I peeked out of the window, wondering what I was going to do.

Was I supposed to spend the night there to look after her? Did I need to cook some hungover soup? We were barely friends, yet I entered her house. Wasn’t that so inappropriate?

I thought of Suwon, Jaeduck and Jaijin’s faces and immediately wanted to smash them for putting me in such a hard spot. They were the masterminds of that disastrous night.

fucking idiots.

It suddenly struck me.

“I don’t really like drinking”.

She mentioned it that day we ate tteobokki together on our YouTube date. I felt so dumb for remembering that statement a little too late.

she could’ve stopped me tho.

She never once refused a drink I poured her.

impossible.

can it be?

“Dara-yah, you didn’t have to do that…”.

I moved a rogue strand of hair that was dangling in front of her face out of the way, admiring how incredibly tranquil her expression was.

It looked as if she had no problems in the world.

That’s what I used to think before that night. A bubbly and carefree girl.

Who knew that a couple of drops of soju were able to unlock her worries and unexplored thoughts? In a night I had discovered the same things others found out in a year. She was a reserved person, just like me.

That night she made me hop a rollercoaster of mixed emotions.

what is even this girl?

I thought I had figured her out already.

She was just a talented hoobae, nothing more nothing less. I told myself not to get involved but there I was.

In her flat.

I brought both of my hand to my face, trying to make out the situation I was in.

“Ayt...”.

A deep sigh left my mouth, yet again.

i’m here just because she’s drunk.

what kind of man leaves a poor girl drunk on the streets?

It’s because she’s a girl, not because she’s dara.

of course. that’s why I’m here.

i’m not a heartless bastard.

It could’ve been anyone.

“Stop playing with me!”.

I could not remove her cries and pleading from my head. That’s why I wanted to avoid her in the first place. Not to disappoint her. I blamed those three pricks for trapping me in that situation.

She was begging me not to play with her feelings and yet I was so close to kissing her, even if I my purpose all night was to reject her.

really...what had gotten into me?

maybe i’m a bastard after all.

[...]

A ray of light shyly invaded the darkness of the living room, hitting my eyes.

I woke up, startled.

i must’ve passed out on the couch.

I rubbed my eyes, refusing to believe I had spent the entire night at my hoobae’s place.

fuck. what time is it?

I turned to my left; Dara was still sleeping peacefully.

I still had a hard time believing that the same girl who was yelling at me the night before was the same one sleeping so peacefully on the couch.

Ack-

The hangover was always the worst part of every drinking experience. My head felt a thousand pounds heavier just resting on my shoulder.

~ bzzzz bzzzzz bzzzzz ~

The loud buzzing of the doorbell ringed in my head like a tennis balls bouncing in an empty room.

I stood up and dragged my whole body to the entrance.

“DARA-SSI DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I’VE CALLED YOU? HOW COME YOU DIDN’T REPLY TO NONE OF MY CALLS-…”.

huh?

A man appeared right behind the door, his brows furrowed, creating a multitude of wrinkles on his forehead.

“And who the hell are you?!”. He shouted, expecting someone else to open the door.

I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, not wanting his yells to wake up the hungover girl still sleeping on the couch.

“Why the hell are you yelling at this hour of the day?”. I whined while checking if the hallway was empty, pretty annoyed by his sudden presence.

“I’m her manager. What are you doing in her apartment?!”.

I tilted my head at the man, who kept stomping his feet. Everything sounded muffled, as if a mine had just exploded right beside me. His words came out of my ears without being registered.

“W-what are you talking about all of a sudden?”. I blurted out.

He ignored me and proceeded to quietly opened the door; probably spying on the inside of the flat only to find Dara passed out on the couch.

“What have you done to her?”. He struck me again with a fulminating gaze but all I could do was raise my eyebrow, ignoring his banters.

He got closer to me, probably sniffing my stink of alcohol mixed with Dara’s scent, it was so strong I could smell it too.

“I KNEW IT! YOU DISGUSTING ANIMALS ALWAYS LURE HER LIKE THIS!”.

“What-“.

He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and slammed me against the door with full force.

“YOU’RE A DISGUSTING ANIMAL, LEAVE HER BE”.

“I BROUGHT HER HERE SAFELY, WHAT NON-SENSE ARE YOU SPOUTING?!”. – I defended myself.

“YOU BROUGHT HER HERE TO SATISFY YOUR DISGUSTING EGO”. The dude clenched his teeth, as the rage inside him boiled up to the limit.

“I BROUGHT HER HERE BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T WANT TO CALL YOU!”.

He slowly released his grip.

His eyes opening wide at the sudden revelation.

“W-what?”.

A look of disbelief appeared on his face as he stepped back from me.

“That’s right, why are you getting so worked up for?”.

He remained silent, still processing the information I gave him.

“Why do you care about her private life so much, anyway? Just focus on your work”.

I rolled my eyes at him, who felt betrayed by his own confidence.

“Tsk- Stay away from her”.

He shoved me aside, with his hand, making me crash against the wall on the other side.

this bastard-

He didn’t lose a second and quickly got inside the flat, locking me out of it.

this did not just happen.

for fuck’s sake.

“MY JACKET YOU BASTARD!”.

I smashed my fist onto the door repeatedly, the blood going to my head.

I dropped onto the ground as the door opened and smashed against my nose.

My coat and hoodie were thrown away out of the door.

“NOW GET LOST!”.

His annoying voice came out from behind the door before closing shut again.

p.s. this chapter is so short compared to the other ones because of me being indecisive over the plot. because of uni i’m hella busy but i’ll try to update as much as I can. thank you for being so patient, kind and also interested in my work! It’s not much but it’s fun to create something that can be enjoyable for all of you dara/jiwon/darawon stans ~

feedback is always welcome!

thanks for tuning in!

previous chapter. ⋆ next chapter. ⋆ masterlist.

#SECHSKIES #EUNJIWON #SANDARAPARK #2NE1 #FANFICTION #IMAGINE #DARAWON #YG #YGFAMILY

14 notes · View notes

francisbaconguy · 5 years ago

Text

To anyone who wants to commission VivziePop for a full scale drawing according to this tweet: https://twitter.com/VivziePop/status/1261016646853902336

My advice: STOP AT ONCE!!!!

DO NOT!!! I REPEAT, DO NOT DO IT!!!! STAY AWAY FROM THAT TRASH OF A POST!!! Your just going to end up getting your money stolen for years on end! Why? Because Viv is not mature enough to handle it! She is not READY AND NEVER WILL BE!!!!

Viv, your fans aren’t your damn welfare check! It’s not there responsibility to clean up after your shit! It’s called a JOB!!! A job that you don’t hand! Being a producer and showrunner is a career only for professionals who are responsible and can actually do proper management!

If you want to pay a bill, get off your ass and work for it! Do freelance, an office job, even a yard sale! But WORK!

Don’t sit back on your ass and use their money to pay people to do cartoons for you!

If you want to animate too for your cartoons, be my guest! But there’s gotta be some money coming from that too!

A problem with Viv is that she makes a lot of hollow promises and tries to bite off more than she can chew. She wants to make Hazbin a reality, wants to make a Helluva series, wants to animate Zoophobia, Tinder, a series of comics; but she can’t get off her lazy ass to even work on these commissions.

If you ask me, she shouldn’t have done them; PERIOD!

Because they are a huge responsibility and God knows how many she has taken. And Patreons also have to get a fucking’ speedraw with their purchase. A FUCKING SPEEDRAW!!! Her priority should’ve went to the Patreons and Patreons alone because it’s all done on a monthly basis and God knows how much money stashed was given to her.

For the production or no, that’s still a lot of bacon they gave. Not to mention that merch sales are also padded to the pile for budget, even if contributors have been given a cut.

Viv is just not good with managing money from the looks of it. I have half the mind to believe that some portions of the commission money also pile to the budget too. And maybe it would’ve been wise for her to actually make a decent and appropriate budget and work within the limitations (such as animating yourself or maybe heaven forbid; cut corners like rigging) instead of overly-expensive stuff like using a union voice record for Helluva Boss and getting big time people like Parry Gripp and Weird Al Yankovic involved.

I compare Viv’s strategy between two artists that she worked with; Nico Colaleo and Maxwell Atoms; one whom was more strategical and one that had a complete flop.

Nico was the creator of Ollie and Scoops (Viv voiced in the show). He did everything he was suppose to do before tackling on a big production he created. He pitched it first, worked on his own show for Dreamworks, and was able to build connections, save a bundle by STILL WORKING (Netflix) and was able to assemble a crew that were far more into consistency and expressive than Hazbin. And that show is gonna get a hell lot of celebrities; I’m talking Matilda from the movie, Angry Video Game Nerd and Kevin “Batman” Conroy. I’m shocked Weird Al turned the show down. Could’ve had potential.

Maxwell created Billy and Mandy and had a film that he Kickstarted called Dead Meat (Viv volunteered for it). Maxwell did not do his research and while he made a great working environment and a unique concept, had to spend a large portion of the budget on the actors alone because it was union, and he didn’t do his paperwork / research correctly which makes him legally unable to complete it without making major changes that would’ve made the project different. Most of what he can do is figure out a way to properly refund the backers because it has been 10 years. At least he learned from his mistakes and had to officially explain it instead of hiding like a coward.

What does this have to do with commissions? Because not only do I sense that the commission money is going to clean up any messes she made for production, but I also think that it’s a primary example of her falling into a flop category as Maxwell is.

I fear that people who commission with Viv are just gonna end up with no money in their pocket while Viv tries to find someone who can clean up her spilled milk.

Also, I saw a lot of posts saying that animators at Hazbin aren’t paid at all or paid enough. Most of their justifications come from using Viv’s Patreon goal of “full time paid” or Animator Guilds’ union rates to justify the claim. I will say that unless someone who literally worked for Viv immediately justifies the claim, I wouldn’t listen to it.

Rates are gonna vary from studio to studio, artist to artist, job to job; there’s no such thing as a set pay-rate. Some are paid hourly, some are paid bi weekly or weekly, some follow a “per second” / “per minute” guideline. Pencilmation, Skynamic Studios, Hobbykids and most indie productions follow the same guideline, which is a good tactic to get cheap and fair work while dangling the creative freedom carrot around. From what’s to speculate and from people who work on productions similar to Viv, her productions pay a “per second” system.

Again, rates and numbers are gonna vary from duty and artist but that’s the same system used in many independent productions. Is it common? Yes. Is it the same benefit as union rates? No. But it doesn’t necessarily support the not paying enough theory when you don’t even know the living conditions of said artists who work for Viv in the first place. For all you know, Viv’s job saved their unemployment.

However that doesn’t mean not all artists were comfortable working with Viv. There was a voice actor who was initially gonna sing as one of the main characters in one of Viv’s projects but was mysteriously replaced without his knowledge. According to him, working with Viv was stressful. Another storyboard artist was annoyed drawing her characters and was wanted to get the “damn” thing over with because they were awful. This shows that Viv can’t please everyone she works with.

All of this attributes on how Viv wants to overdo her creative urges by creating MORE and MORE. It’s okay to create outlets of materials such as cartoons and comics to keep your creativity alive, but doing too much will burn you out, which is what happened to her. She burns out too much which makes her unable to complete what she owed.

Hence why I say; DO NOT COMMISSION HER AGAIN!!! LET VIV FEND FOR HERSELF! LET HER USE HER CREATIVE VIBE ON ACTUAL WORK TO GET PAID! LET HER WORK HER ASS OFF!!!

If you wanna do it out of her own free will, go ahead. But I will advise to think it through. If you let her goat you to donate, what would you possibly have to gain from it? What’s in it for you; for the long year wait of a simple drawing?

Which btw, has a lot of questioning onto the price. While some artists do have high prices worth for their time, her room for improvement on her own artwork (anatomy, perspective) mixed with her inability to make deadlines kinda makes the price skeptical to worth that large amount.

So again, those who donate, what’s in it for you?

And if you want to donate just for the sake of the art, Don’t. Just don’t. Save your money and let her earn hers. She will be fine financially working on her own.

UPDATE: It came to my attention that Hazbin has officially been picked up for a TV show deal. Well I’m proud of Viv for making her dream a reality. However, unless I see an update on Viv on how she wants to handle the process of commissions owed or were in the Patreon, this post is still staying up. But now that she’s gonna be playing in the big leagues, please don’t commission her until she cleans up her mess. It’s better for her sake and yours!

#vivziepop

12 notes · View notes

dustedmagazine · 5 years ago

Text

Dust Volume 6, Number 5

Courtney Marie Andrews

The lockdown continues, and live music has disappeared, replaced by a somewhat antiseptic and unsatisfying spate of live streamed shows mostly one person with a guitar on the couch in their living room. We salute the courage and the effort but miss bands and audiences and even the chatter drifting in from the bar area. In the meantime, at least for now, there are still lots of new records vying for our attention. We present this Dust to catch up with some of them. It’s an ecletic survey of contemporary classical, vengeful hip hop, psyche, jazz, folk and metal artists, all continuing to try to navigate a very difficult period. Our writers this time include many of the usual suspects, Bill Meyer, Ray Garraty, Jonathan Shaw, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Tobias Carroll and Patrick Masterson.

a•pe•ri•od•ic—For (New Focus Recordings)

for a•pe•ri•od•ic by a•pe•ri•od•ic

Silence is a rhythm, too, and a•pe•ri•od•ic dances to it repeatedly throughout their second recording. The Chicago-based ensemble has traversed the new music continuum, performing music by composers from Peter Ablinger to Christian Wolff. Sometimes that silence isn’t quite what you want to hear — the COVID-19 pandemic cut short its tenth anniversary spring season one concert too soon — but it proves to be rich loam from which to grow music on this CD. All four of its pieces were composed specifically for the group by individuals who recognize the merit of non-imposing sounds. That knowledge derives in part from the fact that three of the composers also perform with the group, but also from their long-standing engagement with post-Cage-ian and Wandelweiser material. Director and pianist Nomi Epstein’s descriptively entitled “Combine, Juxtapose, Delayed Overlap” feels like a ceremony intermittently perceived through an opening and closing door. Billie Howard’s “Roll” tucks the composer’s whispering violin behind muted French horn and voice, wringing intensity from the effort one must apply to following its retreating sonorities. Vocalist Kenn Klumpf’s “Triadic Expansions (2)” moves in the other direction, sprouting ivy-like from the slenderest branches of sound. By comparison, Michael Pisaro’s stately “festhalten/loslassen” is a veritable riot of unwinding tonal colors. As the decade ticks towards year eleven, rest assured that a•pe•ri•od•ic is searching for the next promising idea.

Bill Meyer

Agallah — Fuck You The Album (Propain Campain)

Fuck You The Album by Agallah

This is a personal vendetta album. After more than 25 years in the game, Agallah has got to settle the score against the whole world. To say he just has a chip on his shoulder would an understatement. Thirteen songs of pure hate with the title quite properly reflecting its content. In his fight, the rapper strips down all the artistry, including the production. Known for making beats for other hip hop acts, Agallah here not only uses barely serviceable beats, he doesn’t even makes pretense he needs beats. Almost all the tracks work as a capellas. His gruffy voice and arrogant flow don’t need sonic support. And what support can you expect from the world full of phonies, liars, actors, pretenders, cowards and fair weather friends? “Stop pretending, my career is not ending,” he almost screams on “Telling Lies To Me.” If this CD feels like a dinosaur in 2020, then it says that it is not something wrong with this album but with the world.

Ray Garraty

Courtney Marie Andrews — “Burlap String” single (Fat Possum)

Old Flowers by Courtney Marie Andrews

As the eponymous song of 2018’s May Your Kindness Remain amply demonstrated, Courtney Marie Andrews’ pipes are not to be fucked with. But while that was perhaps the most vivid depiction yet of her abilities, the Phoenix native’s delivery can be just as powerful on a muzzle. Such has been her approach thus far with what we’ve heard from Old Flowers, originally slated for an early June release but since pushed back to July (or beyond, who knows). The post-breakup lyrical territory was initially revealed with first single “If I Told,” but it’s the gently loping “Burlap String” I’ve had on repeat for much of the past month. Ever ended a relationship with someone and regretted it? Lush piano and a sighing slide guitar tell you Courtney has without her ever having to utter a word, and much of the song is an illustration of the internal conflict that lingers long after you’ve made the call. I’m inclined to write out the whole second verse here, but it’s the end of the third that lingers as Andrews evokes barely holding back tears: There’s no replacing someone like you. That ensuing pause runs bone-deep, its implication clear — no amount of Mary Oliver can save you from yourself.

Patrick Masterson

Dennis Callaci — The Dead of the Day (Shrimper Records)

youtube

Some albums could be said to hum. In the case of the latest from Dennis Callaci, that’s meant literally: many of the songs on his new album The Dead of the Day feature warm clouds of feedback or droning organ notes. It’s a companion piece to his recent book 100 Cassettes, which features thoughts on musical icons throughout the year. This album’s focus is more insular: some of the songs have a drifting, improvised feel to them. But Callaci also taps into some terrifically subdued songwriting veins here — “Broadway Blues Pt. II” recalls the haunted dub-folk of Souled American, and Franklin Bruno’s piano lends a propulsive dimension to the ruminative title track. And on “Scoreless,” Callaci teams with his Refrigerator bandmate (and brother) Allen Callaci for a song that slowly builds from acoustic foundations to something modestly grandiose. Contrary to what its title might suggest, this album feels very much like a document of one man’s life.

Tobias Carroll

Cameron / Carter / Håker Flaten — Tau Ceti (Astral Spirits)

Tau Ceti by Cameron / Carter / Håker Flaten

Tau Ceti is a planet that is hypothesized to be similar enough to Earth that it could potentially support similar life forms. The three musicians that recorded this tape may come not come from the same system, but they fall into a harmonious orbit around a common circumstance — they were all in the same swanky studio, Halversonics, on a particular winter day in early 2019. One supposes that whatever they were rotating, they move towards the source of heat, since Tau Ceti builds slowly from chill acoustic exploration to a fuzzed-out solar flare. As they progress, abstraction burns away and velocity increases. It’s a gas to hear Ingebrigt Håker Flaten and Lisa Cameron lock in behind Tom Carter’s increasingly gritty sound-bursts.

Bill Meyer

Tim Daisy — Sereno (Relay)

Tim Daisy - Sereno :: music for marimba, turntables and percussion (relay 028) by Tim Daisy

Sometimes the timing of even the most tuned-in drummer is foiled by external circumstances. Sereno was supposed to signal the end of an intense phase of solo practice by Tim Daisy. His intentions for 2020 included making an album of duets and writing music for two ensembles. But at press time he, like everyone else, is hunkered down with his family, and everything he had planned is on hold.

Daisy’s stint as a primarily solo artist coincided with a reconsideration of identity; he wasn’t just a drummer, but a multi-instrumentalist and an orchestrator of electro-acoustic sound. Sereno is split between three elegiac marimba solos that showcase Daisy’s instinct for deliberate melodic development and five much denser constructions for imprecisely tuned radios, playing and skipping records, and Daisy’s strategically reflective drumming. If this record is the only new music that Daisy puts out this year, it leaves us with plenty to think about.

Bill Meyer

Kaja Draksler & Terrie Ex — The Swim (Terp)

On the surface, this looks like quite the odd couple. Terrie Ex Is a Dutch electric guitarist in his mid-60s who still goes by his punk rock name. He’s a ferocious improviser whose scrabbling instrumental attack incurs intensity from any ensemble that doesn’t want to get bowled over, and he knows more Ethiopian tunes by heart than anyone on your block. Kaja Draksler is a Slovenian pianist exactly half his age whose recent projects include a fast-paced, idiosyncratically balanced trio with Petter Eldh and Christian Lillinger, and an octet for which she sets Robert Frost poems to a combination of chanson, Baroque chamber music, and thorny free improvisation. But neither got where they are by letting fear deter them from a musical challenge, and both of them have a fine awareness that one way of understanding their respective instruments is that they are pieces of wood with wires attached. Given that common understanding of music as a combination of coexisting textures and assertive actions, they work together quite well on this CD, which documents a performance that took place at London’s Café Oto in 2018. Scrape meets sigh, jagged fish-hook pluck meets sparse wire-damped drizzle, instinct meets intuition, and when the disc is done, it’ll seem quite sensible to dive back in and swim the whole length in reverse.

Bill Meyer

Errant — S/T EP (Manatee Rampage Recordings)

errant by errant

Errant is the one-woman project of Rae Amitay. Some listeners of metal music may be familiar with Amitay’s work, as vocalist for death-grind-hybridists Immortal Bird and as drummer for the folk-metal act Thrawsunblat. For Errant, Amitay has created songs and sounds that have little in common with those other bands’ aesthetic extremities. “The Amorphic Burden” may prompt you to recall the melodic black metal that Ludicra was making toward the end of that band’s storied run, or the sludgy drama of Agrimonia’s most recent record. In any case, Errant’s sound skews toward more luminescent atmospheres. Production values are largely pristine; Amitay wants you to hear clearly every string and cymbal strike. It makes sense. She plays a bunch of instruments well, and that’s part of the point: that one woman is producing all the sounds, and all the affect. She ends the EP with a cover of Failure’s “Saturday Savior,” and it’s the least interesting thing on the record. But even there, she presents the listener with something worth hearing. Her clean vocals are lovely, disarmingly so. What may be most impressive about this early iteration of Errant is the extent of Amitay’s talents, and how those talents allow her to encroach on the hyper-masculine territory of the “one-man” act.

Jonathan Shaw

Field Works — Ultrasonic (Temporary Residence)

Ultrasonic by Field Works

Stuart Hyatt’s latest compilation in the Field Works series is an absolute beauty — and timely given it’s being released during a pandemic whose origins may be linked to bats. The field recordings that the contributors used to create the music on Ultrasonic come from the echolocation of bats, and the approaches tend towards rhythmic or atmospheric. At the rhythmic end of the spectrum we have Eluvium’s majestic opener “Dusk Tempi,” akin to his work on Talk Amongst the Trees. Mary Lattimore’s glimmering harp patterns are fitting accompaniment to the chittering bat sounds on “Silver Secrets.” And Kelly Moran’s prepared piano on “Sodalis” sends the listener down a hall of mirrors, chased by gorgeous bass tones. At the more abstract, atmospheric end of the spectrum we have Jefre Cantu-Ledesma’s radiant “Night Swimming.” Christina Vantzou blurs the line between the sounds of modular synthesis and bat sonar on “Music for a Room with Vaulted Ceiling.” And on Sarah Davachi’s “Marion,” the listener is immersed in a luminous halo of nocturnal overtones. Wherever the artists venture, this is a varied yet consistently evocative collection.

Tim Clarke

FMB DZ — The Gift 3 (Fast Money Boyz / EMPIRE)

youtube

The Gift 3 was initially set to be released in December 2019 but was postponed until now. DZ’s “Merry Christmas, pussies!” on one of the tracks doesn’t sound so odd, though, because the whole world has plunged into a constant holiday. The new album continues two trends. It carries on the “ape” theme from the previous album Ape Season. “Ape Activities,” “Keep It on Me” and “No Features” are the grittiest tracks from a disc where the prevalent mood is a sick worry. DZ made it out of the hood but had to be on the lookout as the enemies are out to get him. The other trend is that The Gift 3 continues the ideas of The Gift series. The songs have a usual verse-hook structure, are poppier and more relaxed than on Ape Season. DZ, thankfully, doesn’t try to sing anymore but hires some singers on choruses. The hardest track here is “High Speed” with Rio Da Yung Og where Detroit/Flint duo spit vicious lines.

Ray Garraty

Hala — Red Herring (Cinematic)

youtube

Detroit multi-instrumentalist Ian Ruhala wears his heart dripping from his sleeve on “Red Herring” his latest record as Hala. Skipping from the yacht rock of “Making Me Nervous” to the country blues of “True Colors” via power pop, The Kinks and Tom Petty, Ruhala manages to create a thread with deceptively simple melodies and the sincerity of his delivery. There’s more than a touch of Kevin Barnes in the voice and the delight in throwing genres at the wall to see what sticks and, like Barnes, some of it fails to adhere. The pleasure here is in the sense of eavesdropping on the process and reveling in unexpected flourishes that refuse to be ignored.

Ruhala writes a smooth love song and isn’t afraid to turn up the guitar or address politics on standout “Lies” - “I’m eating breakfast with the fascists/Oh man they stand about ten feet tall/My mouth is bleeding at their proceedings/They get their courage through a plastic straw” It may not be Guthrie but he makes it work through a leavening wit and a mid-tempo vamp straight from the solar plexus. “Red Herring” suffers somewhat from its stylistic roaming but a fundamental big heartedness and willingness to reach makes it an enjoyable trip.

Andrew Forell

Las Kellies — Suck This Tangerine (Fire)

youtube

Suck This Tangerine opens with a loose groove and a grime smeared highlife guitar line, the voice enters with ironic invitations over choppy Gang of Four chords. In the new one from Las Kellies, Argentinian duo Cecilia Kelly and Silvina Costa sling taut bass lines and slash guitars over mutant disco rhythms for 12 tracks of slinky indie dance. Drawing on elements from Leeds, London and the Bronx, Kelly and Costa add dubby space and South American humidity to their sound, to elevate the album beyond the sum of its influences.

Kelly handles guitar and bass, wielding the former like a cross between Andy Gill and Viv Albertine and unfurling loose funky serpents with the latter. Costa swings between ESG and The Bush Tetras and incorporates an array of hand drums that deepen and enliven the rhythmic pulse. There is a palpable and joyful chemistry between the two evidenced by their easy interplay and enhanced by the production that gives clarity and elbowroom to each instrument. If the lyrics can tend toward the perfunctory, they are delivered with a winking insouciance on put downs like “Close Talker” and “Rid Of You”. Suck This Tangerine is a worthy addition to the growing collection of feminist post-punk inspired albums we’ve been dancing to of late.

Andrew Forell

Mint Mile — Ambertron (Comedy Minus One)

Ambertron by Mint Mile

Silkworm, the band, may have ended in 2005 with the death of drummer Michael Dahlquist, but its legacy of slow, gut-socking heaviness, mordant wit and muscular guitar lives on, first in Bottomless Pit and now in Tim Midyett’s new band Ambertron. Midyett’s voice and clangorous baritone guitar is instantly recognizable, of course, to anyone who loved Silkworm, but the band diverges somewhat with the pedal steel played by Justin Brown of Palliard, weaving eerily though the slow buzz and moan of “Likelihood.” Jeff Panall, from Songs:Ohio, plays the hard, heavy drums that undergird these songs, giving them structure and forward motion. Other players include Matthew Barnhart from Tre Orsi and Horward Draper from Shearwater. Greg Normal of Bitter Tears contributes a mournful bit of trumpet to “Fallen Rock,” and Chicago alt-country mainstay Kelly Hogan takes the lead in “Sang.” The music is raw and morose; even dense strings can’t quite lift the gloom in “Christmas Comes and Goes,” a song as raw as late November in Chicago. And yet there’s a sort of resilience in it, a strength that comes through persistence. “If we could only find a way to bank the time we had together,” sings Midyett in “Giving Love,” his hoarse voice full of ragged loss, his guitar raging against it all and not quite beaten down even now.

Jennifer Kelly

Gard Nilssen’s Supersonic Orchestra — If You Listen Carefully the Music Is Yours (Odin)

If You Listen Carefully The Music Is Yours by Gard Nilssen´s Supersonic Orchestra

Perched atop his drum stool, Gard Nilssen sits where styles converge. He’s supplied the controlled boil that drives the free-bop combo Cortex, laid down some heavier beats with Bushman’s Revenge and exemplified long-form lucidity with his own trio, Acoustic Unity. In 2019, the Molde Jazz Festival recognized his versatility and forward perspective by anointing him the artist in residence. Besides showcasing his ongoing projects and accompanying heavy guests from abroad, most notably Bill Frisell, he got to put together a dream project. This 16-piece big band, which includes members of Cortex, Acoustic Unity, and the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra, is it. With the assistance of co-arranger André Roligheten, Nilssen has taken some of his trio’s sturdy melodies and turned them into frameworks for boisterous but subtly colored performances. With three basses and three drummers, this could have been either a mess or an uptight game of “you first,” “no sir after you.” But the rhythm crew shifts easily between swinging unisons and refractory elaborations. Roligheten often plays two saxophones at once in smaller settings, and one suspects that he has a lot to do with the rich colors that the horns paint around the featured soloists.

Bill Meyer

Matthew J. Rolin — Ohio (Garden Portal)

Ohio by Matthew J. Rolin

The ghoulish image on the j-card belies the sounds encoded upon this tape. Matthew J. Rolin is a relative newcomer to the practice of acoustic guitar performance; the earliest release on his Bandcamp page was recorded in late 2017. But he’s catching on fast. Switching between six and twelve-string guitars, he serves up equal measures of ingratiating lyricism and immersive surrender to pure sound. Opener “Red Brick” slots into the former category, with a heart-tugging melody that keeps doling out turns that’ll keep you wondering where it’s going and backtracks that’ll ensure that you never feel lost. “Brooklyn Centre,” on the other hand, grows filaments of string sound out of a pool of prayer bowl resonance centering enough to make you cancel your mindfulness app subscription due to perceived lack of need. Rolin develops ideas situated between these poles over the rest of this brief set, which runs just shy of 28 minutes and definitely leaves one wanting a bit more.

Bill Meyer

Nick Storring — My Magic Dreams Have Lost Their Spell (Orange Milk)

My Magic Dreams Have Lost Their Spell by Nick Storring

What Jim O’Rourke did for the music of Van Dyke Parks and John Fahey on Bad Timing, Nick Storring does for Roberta Flack’s on My Magic Dreams Have Lost Their Spell. The Canadian composer may not have O’Rourke’s name recognition or past membership in a very famous rock band going for him, but consider these parallels. He’s a handy with quite a few instruments, he’s an inveterate assistant to other artists across disciplinary lines, and he functions with equal commitment and fluency in a variety of genres. For this record, his first to be pressed on vinyl (albeit in miniscule numbers), Storring uses the lush string sound of Flack’s 1970s hits as a launching point for deep sonic immersions that are considerably more emotionally oblique than their inspirations’ articulations of loneliness and surrender. When he goes melodic, the cello-led tunes seem to reach for something that they never touch, and when he goes for slow-motion density, the music imparts an experience akin to watching the sort of cinematic experience where you can’t tell if you’re seeing a really slow take or the film has frozen at a single frame.

Bill Meyer

Sunn Trio — Electric Esoterica (Twenty One Eight Two Recording Company)

Electric Esoterica by Sunn Trio

Sunn Trio, from Arizona, makes sprawling, multi-ethnic psychedelia that juxtaposes the scree and groan of heavy improvisational rock with the otherly chords and rhythms of the Middle East. Opener “Alhiruiyn” slicks a trebly sheen over its surging, rampaging improvisations, more in the vein of Black Sun Ensemble than Cem Karaca. But “Majoun” layers antic percussion and tone-shifting bent notes in a limber evocation of the souk. “Roktabija The Promulgator” blasts a strident, swaggering surf riff, about as Arabic as “Miserlou” (which is, in fact, Arabic). “Khons at Karnak” buzzes with hard rock aggression, but shimmies with belly dancing syncopation. Because of the name, the preoccupation with non-Western cultures and the Phoenix mailing address, you might think that Sunn Trio is aligned somehow with Sun City Girls, but no. All kinds of weirdness lurks in the desert out there, lucky for us.

Jennifer Kelly

Turbo, Gunna & Young Thug — “Quarantine Clean” single (Playmakers)

youtube

Despite the subject matter’s potential (ahem) virality, “Quarantine Clean” slipped out almost unnoticed in early April and is the kind of muted performance Young Thug doesn’t get enough credit for (while, curiously, his followers often get too much derision for). For all of Thugger’s hyperfluorescent hijinx over the years that have produced earworms like, say, “That’s All” and “Wyclef Jean,” there’s another side that shows up in stuff like “The Blanguage” and “Freaky” where he lets the words do the work; that’s the subterranean sonic world we’re living in here as he opines on God’s role in the pandemic and why he’s lost so much money but still has to pay for his parents’ penthouse (which: welcome to the revolution, pal). Thug’s acolyte in slime Gunna, meanwhile, does most of the song’s heavy lifting with duties on the first verse and chorus, but it’s pretty hard to tell the two apart, such is the slippery restraint both opt to exercise here. The real star, then, is beatmaker Turbo, whose buoyant anchor melody is complemented by what sounds like a lilting flute. It’s a light touch from all parties, a mellow mood well suited to our time of collective party-eschewing shelter. Run that back in prudence.

Patrick Masterson

Various Artists—Ten Years Gone (A Tribute to Jack Rose) (Tompkins Square)

Ten Years Gone : A Tribute to Jack Rose by Various Artists

A decade on from the too early passing of the great American Primitive/blues/raga player Jack Rose, Arborea’s Buck Curran gathers friends, collaborators and younger artists inspired by Rose for a gorgeous tribute to the master. Mike Gangloff, who played with Rose in Pelt and Black Twig Pickers, leads off with a plaintive, sepia-toned fiddle lament (“The Other Side of Catawbwa”), while next generation experimental droner Prana Crafter closes with an expansive, space folk reverie (“High Country Dynamo”). In between, old friends like Sir Richard Bishop evoke Rose’s full-blown orchestral guitar playing (“By Any Other Name”) while young pickers like Matt Sowell take up the trail forged by Dr. Ragtime. Isasa from Spain and Paulo Laboule Novellino from Italy attest to Rose’s global appeal. It’s mostly guitar, but not entirely; Helena Espvall from Espers contributes a brooding, reverberant “Alcantara” on cello. Curran’s own “Greenfields of America (Spiritual for Jack Rose)” is slow and thoughtful, letting long bent notes ring out with liquid clarity; it’s a hymn and a prayer and a testimony to the wide influence of an artist gone too soon.

Jennifer Kelly

Emily Jane White — Immanent Fire (Talitres)

Immanent Fire by Emily Jane White

Emily Jane White gets tagged as a folk singer, but on this, her sixth full-length, the Oakland songwriter brings a fair amount of goth-tinged drama. Taut string arrangements and big booming drums lift “Infernal” well out of the woman-with-guitar category, and White sounds more like PJ Harvey or even Chelsea Wolfe than a sweet voiced strummer. Immanent Fire sticks, topically, to environmental concerns with track titles like “Washed Away,” “Drowned” and “Metamorphosis.” A foreboding creeps through the songs, pretty as they are, even piano lit “Dew” asks “Does poison drop like the dew?” Arrangements, by Anton Patzner, the composer, arranger and violinist of Foxtails Brigade and Judgment Day, give these cuts weight and heft, punctuating eerie melodies with thick swathes of strings, rumbling percussion and keyboards. The disc culminates in “Light” which begins in a whisper and climaxes in drum-shocked, orchestral swoon. Soothing background music it is not.

Jennifer Kelly

Z-Ro — Quarantine: Social Distancing (1 Deep Entertainment / EMPIRE)

youtube

An unexpected seven-track EP bears an expected title from a Dirty South legend. Z-Ro’s usual topics — trust and loneliness — gain a new meaning in the time of social distancing. To keep away women who only want his money is a necessary precaution now. To be at the corner at the party is a rule for survival. Z-Ro is on his ground counting his dough alone in the house. Earlier he did it so no ‘shife’ (the title of one of the tracks) friends could rob him, now it’s just to obey quarantine rules. The first half of this EP is a bit muddled by unnecessary intros and reggae tunes but the second one hits hard. As always with Z-Ro, the hardest content takes the gentlest form (“Niggas is Hoes” especially is almost a pop song). On the final track “Life of the Party” Boosie Badazz drops by, giving his verdict on the pandemic: “Fuck Corona!”

Ray Garraty

7 notes · View notes

dweemeister · 4 years ago

Photo

The Princess and the Pirate (1944)

Bob Hope’s mastery of quickfire one-liners and self-deprecation endeared him to American audiences listening to him over the radio or watching him in films. Those skills made him the ideal Academy Awards host (Hope still has the record hosting the most ceremonies) and frequent entertainer for the United Service Organizations (USO). By the 1940s as a contracted actor to Paramount, Hope starred in the Road to... musical comedy series with Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour. Their comedic chemistry made the films runaway hits. Road to Morocco (1942) represented the series pinnacle, but Paramount wanted to move on – loaning Hope out to Samuel Goldwyn Productions (at this time affiliated with RKO Radio Pictures as distributor) for two films in exchange for Gary Cooper’s services to make For Whom the Bell Tolls (1943).

The first Bob Hope movie with Goldwyn, They Got Me Covered (1943), made little impression. For the second film, Goldwyn lavished an A-picture budget for Hope, Virginia Mayo (an unofficial member of the Goldwyn Girls), and director David Butler. As a detour from the Road to... series, The Princess and the Pirate is filled with fourth wall-breaking references that make it impossible to recommend for anyone who has never seen a Bob Hope movie from this era. With that qualifier in mind, The Princess and the Pirate is an offbeat comedy that Hope’s fans and admirers will enjoy, though it is certainly not his finest work in motion pictures.

We open with the title screens describing a ruthless pirate named Hook. Immediately, Bob Hope breaks the fourth wall to tell the audience: “That’s not me folks, I come on later. I play a coward!” Hook (Victor McLaglen), who – shockingly – has a hook hand, has just buried a valuable treasure on a desert island when he orders an attack on a naval ship. With his buccaneers of the Avenger swindling the booty, Hook’s crew also kidnap the Princess Margaret (Mayo), who has run away from home in defiance of her father, the King (Robert Warwick), as she wanted to marry a commoner. Hook’s crew also accosts an actor, Sylvester the Great (Hope), who sleeps in the cabin across from the Princess. Sylvester escapes abduction by disguising himself as a gypsy. The Avenger’s eccentric tattooist, Featherhead (Walter Brennan), finds the disguised Sylvester attractive. Featherhead helps Sylvester and Princess Margaret escape, directing them to see find his cousin somewhere on the pirate cove named Casarouge.

Also featured in The Princess and the Pirate are the Governor of Casarouge, La Roche (Walter Slezak); Hook’s first mate, Pedro (Marc Lawrence); Hugo Haas as an ethically challenged barkeep; and a film-ending cameo that makes a ruffled Hope exclaim that this will be the last picture he makes for Goldwyn (it was).

In these days where memories of Bob Hope’s radio and USO work are waning, his wise-guy humor might not be as funny to some viewers. Without question, his comedic timing and delivery is as refined as anyone’s. Director David Butler even admitted that Hope himself did not need much direction with the screenplay by Everett Freeman (1942’s George Washington Slept Here, 1951’s Jim Thorpe – All-American); Don Hartman (1935’s The Gay Deception, Road to Morocco); and Melville Shavelson (1958’s Houseboat, 1959’s The Five Pennies. But Hope’s signature jokes about one’s own shortcomings and metatextual jabs over the ways the Hollywood Studio System worked are not sustainable for a feature film unless there is support from elsewhere in the movie.

The Princess and the Pirate does not have the broad humor one sees in the Road to… series. Instead, the film’s comedy – which still possesses Hope’s comedic hallmarks – is interwoven into the plot. On another level, The Princess and the Pirate is a swashbuckler parody that provide its supporting characters (namely, the antagonists) with more antics and jokes than the typical Bob Hope comedy. The swashbuckler genre was overdue for a parody by this point, as the genre had been popular since the silent era – The Crimson Pirate (1952) and The Court Jester (1955) would come later. As Hook, Victor McLaglen’s energetic performance – his threats to slit Sylvester’s gizzard or gullet enliven the intentionally hackneyed writing – is a joy to watch. McLaglen, a character actor often found in gritty, hypermasculine roles, looks like he is having the time of his life in this film. So too is an unhinged Walter Brennan, who had the distinction (fortunate or unfortunate depending on how one views it) of looking much older than he was. Brennan’s tattooist must have been the film censors’ worst nightmare – a slightly queer and lusty pirate. And in a role where he is more than just an old Western coot playing alongside a John Wayne or Gary Cooper, he gets to be more cartoonish than in any other performance I’ve seen him in. For The Princess and the Pirate, McLaglen and Brennan’s complement those of Hope and Mayo’s.

For Mayo, The Princess and the Pirate was her first starring role. Though she participated in singing classes with the Goldwyn Girls, Mayo herself never joined the company. Yet, she was a breakthrough star in her own right. As the film’s no-nonsense, strait-laced foil to Hope, Mayo plays off Hope’s comedic chops, but her character resists Sylvester’s raised eyebrows and naughty suggestions. That Hope and Mayo have no romantic spark subverts swashbuckler tropes, as the dynamic between their characters can best be described as friendly bickering. In Princess Margaret’s exasperation as pirates board their ship, their comedic dynamic sets the tone for the rest of the film:

PRINCESS MARGARET: Why don’t you die like a man? SYLVESTER: Because I’d rather live like a woman!

Costume designer Mary Grant (1957’s Sweet Smell of Success) gowns see Mayo go through various wardrobe changes – just how many dresses does she have on her person? – in the film’s splendid Technicolor. The remarkable production design by Ernst Fegté (1943’s Five Graves to Cairo, 1950’s Destination Moon) and Howard Bristol (1940’s Rebecca, 1959’s Anatomy of a Murder) not only encompasses the ships, but the Casarouge exteriors and La Roche’s palatial residence. The Casarouge art direction – ramshackle wooden buildings, portside materials strewn haphazardly across the docks – help make it believable as a sleazy den of inebriated, trigger-happy scalawags. As the final act transitions to La Roche’s governor’s mansion with its high ceilings, ornate furniture, and gleaming floors, the sets look like they came from some lavish musical. Despite some indifferent camerawork (as one often finds in comedies), The Princess and the Pirate’s backgrounds are always fascinating to look at. Filled with so much detail, the film almost escapes the restrictions of the soundstage that almost all of it was shot in.

According to Hope, he enjoyed making The Princess and the Pirate and his character’s ability to don various costumes to evade the villains (which reminded him of his vaudeville beginnings). But Hope’s loan to Samuel Goldwyn had expired – actors and actresses in the Old Hollywood Studio System had little leverage to oppose loan deals written up by studio executives – and he was ready to return to Paramount. With World War II raging in two theaters, he would continue to entertain American troops on various USO tours. Virginia Mayo remained with Goldwyn until 1949. With her ascension to being a leading actress, she starred in a handful of comedies opposite Danny Kaye and was cast against type in her brilliant performance for William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives (1946).

Though The Princess and the Pirate might not be the most memorable (or funniest) film its two leads starred in, it is a welcome swashbuckling comedy that defies the swashbuckling stereotypes that one comes to expect. Entertaining though it is, several references are rooted in an assumption that one knows about Bob Hope’s filmography, Samuel Goldwyn’s reputation, and other period-specific media. Feeling more like an animated short film stretched longer than it should, the movie should only be seen by those who have an interest in the cast and crew involved with the production.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#The Princess and the Pirate #David Butler #Bob Hope #Virginia Mayo #Walter Brennan #Walter Slezak #Victor McLaglen #Marc Lawrence #Hugo Haas #Samuel Goldwyn #Everett Freeman #Don Hartman #Melville Shavelson #Mary Grant #David Rose #Ernst Fegte #Howard Bristol #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

3 notes · View notes

akaashirabu · 5 years ago

Text

volleyballs and photographs • shirabu kenjirou (Pt. 9)

Back to Present Day, November 2018.

"One Iced Americano for Shirabu-san." she called from the counter.

Shirabu was awakened from his trance. So that was what happened. He was being a selfish bastard. He made her cry. He didn't got the chance to apologize to her since she avoided him even when graduation came. He gave up that fast. He was a coward.

Shirabu got up and walked at the counter to grab his drink.

"Thank you. Enjoy your drink, Shirabu-san." she says with a smile.

He just nodded at her and turned his back.

He was staring at the cup in his hands. Is he going to be a coward forever? Is he letting her go again? Is he?

Shirabu turned around and walked back at the counter.

"F/N."

She was surprised when he called her, and with her first name even.

"uhm do you need something else, Shirabu-san?"

"I'm sorry..."

She tilted her head. "uhh for what?"

"5 years ago, for making you cry..." he was looking straight to her eyes.

Her eyes widen a bit, surprised by what the boy infront of her just said.

She smiles. "Shirabu-san, don't worry about it. I already forgave you a long time ago."

"No...I--Can I talk to you? I have something to say actually..."

"Oh uhm my shift ends in 10 minutes, can you wait for a bit?" she says.

He nodded and took a seat at the nearest chair, waiting for her.

10 minutes passed and F/N was at the cafe's employee room to change her clothes and get her things.

"Hey F/N-chan, who's the guy waiting for you outside?" her cousin, the owner of the coffee shop asked.

"Oh uhm just someone I knew from high school." she says.

"Ah that's why he really looks familiar. Oh wait..." she stopped to think.

F/N looks at her cousin, waiting for what she's about to say.

"Don't tell me he's that guy you liked so much in high school, the one who has a lot of photos in your cameras..."

F/N's face turned red.

"Onee-san..." she whined.

"Oh so it's really him, since you're flustered and all..." her cousin chuckled.

F/N whines again.

"You still have that one polaroid photo with him in your wallet right? So you going out with him now, after all those years?" she teased.

"Nee-san! I-it's not like that..h-he just wanted to talk."

"Think of it, maybe it's why he wanted to talk to you."

F/N flusters more at what her cousin just said.

"Ah I'm sure it's not like that...I'm off, see you tomorrow." she says.

As soon as she walked in Shirabu got up from his seat and walked towards her.

After leaving the coffee shop, both were walking on the sidewalks, an awkward atmosphere surrounding them.

Shirabu was deep in thought about how he'd confront the girl. He was so nervous, like he was in high school again.

Meanwhile, F/N can't help but think about what her cousin said, the one where she says that the reason why Shirabu wanted to talk to her is to ask her to go out with him. Will he?

"So uhm you still take photos right?" he suddenly asks.

She looked at him and smiled a bit. "Yep, I uhh actually work for a photo studio and sometimes freelances for magazine photoshoots. I work part time at the coffeeshop to help my cousin by the way." she says.

He nods.

She was hesitating on continuing the conversation but then she asked "How about you?"

"Oh me? Still in Med School. A little bit more and I'll be a doctor I guess."

She smiled. "That's great. A doctor huh...it fits Shirabu-san really well."

"Uhm thank you..." He mumbles.

They were engulf in silence again until they stopped outside a nearby convenience store.

"so uhm what is it you want to tell me?" she finally asked.

He gulped. It's now or never.

"F/N...it's been 5 years but I...I still like you." he said.

She was surprised, to be honest she didn't know what to say.

"No...I...I love you." He continued.

Maybe a little too loud because it attracted the attention of some high school kids passing by.

F/N flusters, she still didn't know what to say.

"I can't just waste this chance again...I'm asking you to be my girlfriend, F/N."

Shirabu was taken aback when he saw tears on her eyes.

He was panicking. He just made her cry again. "Wait F/N...wait I'm I'm sorry...I"

She wiped her tears away. "No it's not...it's okay...it's just that I-I love you too but——"

"Wait, don't tell me you have a boyfriend already?!?!"

F/N bursted in laughter. "No, you idiot bowl cut boy. I love you okay? but we just saw each other again and I can't just say yes to being your girlfriend right away." she explains.

Shirabu heaved a sigh of relief. "O-okay then, but for the record, I already asked and I wouldn't take no for an answer since you already said you love me."

F/N flusters as she heard the high school kids who were eavesdropping snickering and saying things like "Oh couples these days." "They are so cute."

"O-okay...stop embarassing me!"

He chuckled and patted her head. "Come on, I'll treat you some ice cream."

She nodded.

He held her hand as they walked inside the convenience store.

"Shirabu-san..." she softly called.

"Hmmm?" He looked back at her.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too." He smiled and she smiled back.

"Oh and hey call me by my first name!" he demands.

F/N chuckles. "Okay, Kenjirou."

—

part [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] also posted in my wattpad account @akaashirabu.

#Shirabu #shirabuxreader #shirabukenjirouxreader #kenjirou #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuuxreader #Haikyu!!#haikyuu!!#shiratorizawa #pretty setter squad

3 notes · View notes

hcneymilkks · 5 years ago

Text

STRAY KIDS as business owners - HYUNG LINE

NOTE: THIS IS MY OPINION AND MY OPINION ONLY! if this sucks I deeply apologize. I also will cut it into two parts of the hyung line and maknae line.

maknae line

Let’s get started

WOOJIN

okay first of all wtf?! No no Woojin no

N E WAYS

like everyone knows that Woojin loves his chicken

so it's no surprise that he would open a chicken shop like KFC, Chicken on the way, etc.

LMAO i lowkey want him to call it "Woo's Chicken" idk it sounds cool??

"red light green light swag, bye or whats up man it's Woo's Chicken how can we help you?"

^^ wow my mind LMAo

but chicken aside, i also see him be a co-owner with Seungmin and open a bookshop/cafe.

chicken, coffee and books? great combo

he would be laid back, stern when he needs to

business conferences would go smoothly

clean and organized

although he is the owner i can also see him helping around the restaurant as well.

probably wouldn't open more than two so then he can be more involved physically rather than in paper form you know what i mean

but yes

Woo's chicken would be a hit

probably would ask Chan to help around

bring back Chan's kitchen you cowards

CHAN

yes officer this man here has stolen my heart

killing gif aside

ik it sounds boring but he probs would open a record shop

BUTbecause of his caring nature, i would see him also have an empty recording studio that aspiring singers/rappers can play around with

he would probably also help those singer/rappers if needed because he just wants to see everyone succeed

Changbin and Jisung would probably be owners as well

3racha yes

Jisung would mostly be greeting the customers, ringing up their purchases and organizing the music

Changbin would be more involved with the ordering of new technology, new music, maybe even add in a few tables and chairs idk lmao

it would just be a great time in there

the record shop would probs be called 3racha probably sell their own merch, play their music in the shop

"nOONa dO u haVE a BoYFRienD?"

LMAo

LEE KNOW/MINHO

aight time to go on a full rant about my love for Minho

JKJK (maybe another post)

I see him along with Felix and Hyunjin open up a dance company

the name? Visuals LOL

but it would hold probably 5-6 practice rooms

idk honestly if the boys would teach dance but I kinda see it

each teaching their own style or something like that

probably open 24/7

stray kids would probably use it as well

but on the side when either Hyunjin or Felix are running the building, I see him opening a cat cafe or an animal adoption center

probably having both plus a vet

so like instead of a cat cafe only its all animals or like different sections of the cafe has different animals and those animals are in need of homes and like if you need to bring ur pet to a vet, its just right there??

probably Jeongin would co-own

can he call it Lee know knows

as in he knows what everyone wants?

wait thats stupid lmao idk

CHANGBIN

we putting changbin in the hyung line so that the maknae line one isn't that long

also because why not

aside from opening a record shop with chan and jisung, i can see him open a tattoo shop

idk tattoos man i just want one lmao

> he probably wouldn't do the actual tattoos because he's not a professional yet

but i would let him do mine

i can see like Juyeon and Younghoon from THE BOYZ be staff members as well as all of ATEEZ

like Juyeon, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, San, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang are the tattoo artists

Younghoon and Jongho would work the front like the phone calls, booking appointments, some paperwork

business meetings always end in chaos and Changbin yelling because *cough* Woosan

But Changbin would probably practice his art to get better and hopefully be able to tattoo someone

plot twist: he does get to

MASTERLIST

#stray kids #business owners #ateez #the boyz #chan #jeongin #seungmin #changbin #lee know #minho #woojin #felix #hyunjin #jisung

11 notes · View notes

samuelandthewilburbots · 5 years ago

Audio

One Year in Music: Week 52

Yeahhhhh that’s right, we did it folks. The experiment I started 52 weeks ago, has completed just as our trip around the sun is about to come to a complete stop. I am finally free from this weekly burden, much like the genie in Aladdin, I have exhausted my efforts, and now I must go. The goal when I started this blog was to chronicle the writing process of each song, give a little insight into what each song was about, and then at the end of the year, destroy it all just like Ethan Hawke in First Reformed. So, as I wrap myself in barbed wire, allow me to reflect on what I’ve learned from this journey and this godforsaken decade.

I learned that writing about the writing process is hard, and more importantly not always that compelling, so I often had to pivot to memories that these songs evoked, often times divulging more than I initially intended to. After one particular post I got called “ageist” by a baby boomer on Tumblr, which made me feel bad at first, but then made me feel like I must be doing something right. I learned that if you write everyday, you will not get writer’s block. I had that sentence written down at my studio desk and looked at it everyday. “I will never get writer’s block, because I write everyday.”

I believe that is undoubtedly true. I wrote way more than 52 songs this year, not all were completed, or great, and almost every week I would have about 3 musical ideas to choose from to push over the finish line, and even though sometimes I hated all 3 of my options, I was always both surprised and satisfied with the product I put out. I know that some of the songs I created are better than others, but I believe every single one of them has something interesting to say, both lyrically and instrumentally at some point. There is at least one cool 10 second section in each song that is worthy of your ears. I learned that posting about the same project once a week on Facebook absolutely gets you buried in the algorithm to the point where close friends and family had no idea that I was putting out new music each week, Zuckerburg fight me you coward! I also learned that even those that do know what your doing, it’s very hard to get people to listen to your music. I’ve been writing music since the first day I picked up a guitar when I was 16. I am now 34 and I feel like the songs I made this year are some of the best I’ve ever written. The recording and mixing process is a slog and insanely tedious. For one song, I made 11 different versions with slight variations in levels before I got something worth posting, and even then it still wasn’t great. With these 52 songs, I am going to pick my favorites and have people who are much better at mixing than I am, make them sound even better.

Most importantly, I learned I am going to keep writing and recording music until the day I die. It is the most therapeutic and spiritual thing that I do, and it makes me feel like I have a purpose. I love the music that I make, and in my heart of hearts, I do believe I will break through into the music industry in some capacity. 89.3 The Current, I’m coming for ya! This week’s song is called Sunlight. It’s about how the sun gives us light and life, and when we don’t see it enough, we get sad. The Sun is a giant ball of gas and plasma that is over 4 billion years old. It is 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit on the surface and if our planet were any closer or further from it, we’d be in trouble. The sun is a big mood folks, Do NOT sleep on the sun! Lyrics: It's the curve of the ocean It's the horizontal line It's the moment from this moment and the moment doesn't change You got to see just where you lie I'm selling minutia I'm selling a mirage I'm selling the future I'm selling my garage Sun Light Making everybody feel so nice Oh Give me 25 years to life If I confess to the truth Oh give me something Because I must confess it to you Well someones trying to take your picture While someone's trying to hold your hand And someones feeding you your own tail with a silver spoon But I don't think that you fully understand You’re selling your future You’re buying your own lies Soon we won't have a future We are running on fumes and out of time

Sun Light Making everybody feel so nice Oh give me 25 years to life If I confess to the truth Oh give me something Because I must confess it to you Hey there, where you at I'm looking for a favor from the past I'm looking forward too I'm moving on from you I’m drowning here without you I’m drowning here without you Just give me Sun Light Making everybody feel so nice Oh Give me 25 years to life If I confess to the truth Oh give me something Because I must confess it to you

#singer/songwriter #one year in music #minneapolis

19 notes · View notes

spottedtrains-blog · 6 years ago

Text

henlo heathens ! it’s ur girl t(r)asha , [ uh did u kno ( r ) = that symbol .. cos i didn’t .. wild ] back with her dumbasses . i was around for the Og™ rp but i made some changes to my charries so yeet ! everything is under the cut and hmu if you’d like to plot , i’m v excited to rp with everyone ! i’m currently prepping to get on a train back to my hometown for reading week but if no one sits next to me i might fucc around ‘n rp a bit if not .. then i’ll be sticking to the im’s fhgjkhg <33

my son ! bobby callaghan is his name - movies , reckless driving , drugs , and befriending murderers is his game ! i have a bio HERE b/c i’m incapable of making intro posts that aren’t 100k bullet points long so in order to get away from that i’m just gonna put a few fun hc’s below !

his actual name is robert , but that’s a disgusting boring name , for boring people and he’s not gonna be that ! he thinks he’s the coolest , the bee’s knees , the lead singer . in reality he’s not , more like the drummer and the bee’s ass .

he’s actually rly smart , but u wldn’t be able to tell b/c he acts like a crackhead ( mayhaps because he’s on crack ? hm ) . he had the grades to study any the stem subjects post high school and prolly wld’ve thrived , but he chose to study cinema .. truly , braver than the us marines .

speaking of , he’s the owner of the theatre and he loves with it his whole entire ( probably ) failing heart ! if cinema is dying he’ll go down with this ship mhm . his favorite genre is horror , then pornography .. he wrote his final thesis on the benefits of pushing porn into mainstream media so fite him ! his fave director is david cronenberg /: hit him with that body horror .. also i like to hc that ownership was like passed down from the old owner who retired and bobby probably worked as like an usher or manager or something before that !!

his dicc is struggling , mayhaps he should cool it with the drugs .

he’s well aware of the gangs , fuccs with them , no. 1 murder fanboy .

WANTED CONNECTIONS

and they were roommates : listen they prolly have a kinda nice apartment which bobby makes disgusting , b/c he’s stinky . most definitely started a fire on the stove top multiple times , place always smells like weed , his room looks like urban outfitters on crack , always a movie playing in the bg ... fun !

movie skwad / film club : listen , ur chara like movies ? they in . if there’s a film club bobby can hosts screenings at the theatre .. also he screens a selection of weird finds every sunday after midnight ): it’ll be fun , they can all just chill , and discuss tarantino’s foot fetish ..

co-workers / manager : i mean ig it’s kinda hard for someone to pick up this connection if they not a new charrie but i love being dumb so .. he’s probably at the theatre 25/8 but like ,, he’s not the most organized , he relies on his trusty staff and manager so , idk !

drug dealer : even tho he’s from colorado springs i’d like to think he got into drugs after a trip down to valdez , and then he kept goin to valdez and the rest is history .. they’d probably have to be around the same age as hi m .. he’s a v loyal customer . maybe ur muse feels bad that he’s a right junkie .. maybe they don’t give a fucc ! they prolly v friendly tho : )

childhood friends : listen to sticks ’n’ stones by jamie t , and give me a friendship based on that ? basically kids who just got into a bunch of shit together , mostly this iconic lyric : and rushed back to your momma’s flat , it’s the only place but home i feel relaxed enough to crap , i know it sounds crude , but there’s something to that . iconic .

wow ! look at my daughter go - even though frances barely ever smiles . sad . click HERE for the tragic backstory , because below’s just gonna be some smexy headcanons ..

she loves electronic music and bad television .. she wouldn’t be able to tell you the name of the music ‘cos it’s always the stuff that plays at the club and she’s not technologically savvy enough to even know that shazam exist .. and she still uses like dvr , to record .. riverdale ? sweaty we wanna stan but ..

dancing’s her only reprieve in this cold , dark world ): .. she spends any days off in a rented studio at the local gym , choreographing dance after dance , it’s her favourite thing . she’s entirely self-taught , youtube & free drop in classes .. truly a blessing .

she’s painfully realistic , kinda blunt but in a rly awkward way ? she so conscientious of the way people receive her so she tries to be as direct as possible and it always comes off just so blank - she cares a lot, just doesn’t kno how to show it sometimes !

although she’s with the savages b/c she’s kinda indebted , she doesn’t rly feel that way ? girlie was rly depressed n it kinda gave her a purpose , though she does have guilt regarding her evading jail time .. b/c she thinks she deserves some kind of repercussion.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

college friends : she was literally in college for like a year .. barely .. but like maybe she found some friends ! who introduced her to the clubs ! gave her a lil bit of verve in life .. even if she spent the rest of the year drinking , clubbing and avoiding all academic responsibility ..

someone to learn that awfully cringy riverdale dance : don’t ask me why i want this, i just do and it’s VALID ok ! c’mon cowards it’ll be fun . they’ll be laughin while they do the slut drop it’ll be booty-ful

childhood friends : she’s a valdez native so like, she went to school here and grew up here and all that good stuff . up for any dynamic , maybe they grew apart , maybe they’re still just as close ? anything !

grocery store pals : even though she doesn’t work there anymore, she had been working there since she was fourteen and worked there for abt a decade give or take so suffice to say she knows her grocery store peeps ! n shops there regularly so hmu :)

lawyer : for when the thingy happened ! she probably has a strained relationship with them , grateful but also like .. shoulda just let me rot in jail kinda vibes !

#outlaw.intro #my url is so dumb dhfjgd .. i am aware .. my Mind #it's a conscious decision #anYWYAS i shld shut up and walk to the station so <3

13 notes · View notes

overlooked-tracks · 3 years ago

Text

15 Japanese Artists To Spice Up Your Playlists

The following article has been posted on July 23, 2022 at 11:18AM:

An Overlooked Tracks News Finding: Here’s an article you might have overlooked. Having a partnership with NewsAPI, we try to catch music entertainment news for you to view, read and possibly enjoy. We will continue to find what’s available in the world of music entertainment, concert information and music releases. But obviously you – the listener and reader are the biggest source for news in your area, so if you can share with us. For right now, look at what we found for you:

“From The Leo Edit (Music) Website – 15 Japanese Artists To Spice Up Your Playlists

Japan is a wellspring of crossover genres and music that hasn’t necessarily hit your ear canals yet. It’s time to change that. Here’s a glance into the incredible variety of artists and genres Japan has gifted us over the years.

BRADIO

A band who proudly waves the flag of funk and big band rock music. Formed from the ashes of the now defunct Gold End, Bradio is an acronym for “Break the Rule And Do Image On.” Certainly, their music provides positive vibes and great grooves. Singer Takaaki Shingyoji, the man with one of the best afros we’ve seen, has the ability to hit that Bruce Springsteen rock snarl just before flipping into a super clean and smooth falsetto. Their videoclips are often very silly, abusing bad green-screen for comedic effects—overall a ton of fun to watch.

Please accept YouTube cookies to play this video. By accepting you will be accessing content from YouTube, a service provided by an external third party.

YouTube privacy policy

If you accept this notice, your choice will be saved and the page will refresh. Thank you very much from the media staff of Overlooked Tracks.

Accept Overlooked Tracks & YouTube Content

MISIA

Misia is the stage name of one Misaki Ito. Famed for her five-octave vocal range, she is widely recognized as the first Japanese R&B superstar. Melancholic and soulful, her 13 studio albums have garnered a slew of Japanese Gold and Record Awards, put her among the all-time best selling Japanese music artists of all time—having sold more than 20 million records—and making her one of the top-touring artists in Japan and the first female artist to play all five of Japan’s largest stadiums. Her debut album, Mother Father Brother Sister (1998), became the seventh best-selling Japanese debut album of all time, with her single Everything (2001) becoming the best-selling single of all time in Japan and the third best selling physical single by a Japanese solo female artist of all time. That’s a helluva a lot of all-times. In other words, she was Japan’s answer to Adele before Adele was even a thing.

Please accept YouTube cookies to play this video. By accepting you will be accessing content from YouTube, a service provided by an external third party.

YouTube privacy policy

If you accept this notice, your choice will be saved and the page will refresh. Thank you very much from the media staff of Overlooked Tracks.

Accept Overlooked Tracks & YouTube Content

RADWIMPS

The indie rockers, who claim their name has several meanings, including “excellent weakling” and “superlative coward,” climbed to fame independently in their home country in 2003, before gaining a significantly larger audience following their work with animated movie genius Makoto Shinkai, scoring two of his latest movies: Your Name, one of the highest-grossing Japanese animated films, as well as the soundtrack to 2019’s Weathering With You. Best known for their 2008 singles, Order Made and Dada, their sound is the soft encouragement and tender understanding of the woes of the everyday man and woman. Sometimes accompanied by an orchestra, their sound ranges from rollicking, fast paced numbers to power ballads, with fusions of hip hop and metal weaved throughout.

Please accept YouTube cookies to play this video. By accepting you will be accessing content from YouTube, a service provided by an external third party.

YouTube privacy policy

If you accept this notice, your choice will be saved and the page will refresh. Thank you very much from the media staff of Overlooked Tracks.

Accept Overlooked Tracks & YouTube Content

B’Z

B’z is probably one of, if not the biggest band in all of Japan and one of the best-selling music artists in the world, having released 49 consecutive number one singles, 25 number one albums, three number one EPs, and have sold more than 100 million records worldwide. Their tours span hundreds of dates across eastern Asia, filling stadiums everywhere they go. In 2007, B’z even became the first musical act from Asia to have their handprints and signatures put up in the Hollywood’s RockWalk.

Guitarist Tak Matsumoto has his own signature Gibson guitar, having worked with legends like Jimmy Page and Scorpions across a variety of styles, and has released his own jazz and blues albums. The man is considered by many as one of the most underrated guitar players in the world. Singer Koshi Inaba is a powerhouse who, at 57, still puts most teenagers to shame.

Please accept YouTube cookies to play this video. By accepting you will be accessing content from YouTube, a service provided by an external third party.

YouTube privacy policy

If you accept this notice, your choice will be saved and the page will refresh. Thank you very much from the media staff of Overlooked Tracks.

Accept Overlooked Tracks & YouTube Content

ALI

ALI (acronym for Alien Liberty International) is a multinational hip hop and funk band formed in Shibuya, Tokyo and relatively new on the scene, having formed around 2016. With all members of the band of mixed race—with roots in Japan, Europe, America, Asia, and Africa—it’s no surprise that their music draws from such diverse styles from smooth vocals, jazzy interludes, and the occasional rap.

Please accept YouTube cookies to play this video. By accepting you will be accessing content from YouTube, a service provided by an external third party.

YouTube privacy policy

If you accept this notice, your choice will be saved and the page will refresh. Thank you very much from the media staff of Overlooked Tracks.

Accept Overlooked Tracks & YouTube Content