#There's a longer compilation somewhere hidden in my folders...

[anniflamma]

Found this old forgotten gem in my friend's Discord chat. That time when I was studying 3D animation, got bored, started spinning around in my chair, and then hit my head on a freaking concrete pillar. I deserved it.

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[fluidsf]

A Polar Visions / Polar Visions Amplitude review of -

Francisco López - a bunch of stuff (1980-2020)

Release date - July 2020

Reviewed format - Francisco López self-released (under the Nowhere Worldwide banner) USB business card, as kindly sent to me as a review copy by Francisco López

Note - you can purchase this release in digital format directly from Francisco López' Bandcamp page here: https://franciscolopez.bandcamp.com/album/a-bunch-of-stuff-1980-2020-40-years-of-sonogenic-composition

Welcome to the first review on Fluid Sonic Fluctuations review in 2021! Today I’m discussing Francisco López’s very large multi-part anniversary compilation a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) which was self-released by Francisco both as a neat USB business card and later reissued as download through Bandcamp in 2020. With this compilation Francisco is celebrating the 40 years he’s been creating immersive sonic compositions in the experimental and underground music scene, practicing his own coined way of sonogenic composition. a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) presents an excellent thematic overview of Francisco López’ discography through a large number of excerpts from his ever-growing universe of untitled compositions as well as titled pieces. The excerpts are organised into 15 parts which Francisco has tagged with his own invented genre names, which both point at his own personal sound philosophy but also have a subtle comic touch to them. Besides the excerpts, Francisco has also included several full-length (as well as almost full-length) as well as rare, unreleased and at the time of the original release still unreleased compositions making the compilations a great mixture of both showcase and rarities compilation. Whilst Francisco’s full-length compositions are often quite expansive in length making them suitable for a full-on immersion in the sonic universe created, the way every chronologically ordered part of a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) flows makes for a different yet equally intriguing and immersive listening experience with creative usage of both fades and hard cuts connecting the tracks together making every part that the full 12 hours worth of listening this compilation consists of a very rewarding listening experience. Francisco’s philosophy on both listening itself as well as his way of composing always originates first and foremost from the experience of listening in a very immersive sense which goes beyond source recognition or surface-level emotions but is very much settled in immersion within the sound world itself leaving the often cathartic, subconscious effects to the listeners themselves to feel and thereby completing the composition. Francisco himself reminds us of his philosophy but also shares some new insights on 40 years of sonogenic compositions in this mini-interview I did with him over email:

Orlando Laman - Over the last 40 years you've released a large number of your compositions, the selection on a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) is organized using your own invented genres. Regarding bringing together selections of compositions as collections through series (like recently, Two Head Snake) or by listeners themselves discovering certain connections between releases, how do you view your full collection of works as a whole, especially in the way all this shaped sonic matter is forming a sonic universe completed by the listener?

Francisco López - Well, as a whole I guess I see it as my way of having a more meaningful and richer interaction with the world. Not through representation (as in canonical so-called 'field recordings') but rather through penetration into sonic matter and its ontology.

OL - From listening to your compositions and interviews with you it's clear that most of the time you create compositions without planning things ahead, creating a system or trying to execute creative ideas through manipulated sound matter. It's a matter of composition that is both improvisatory based on the sounds themselves yet also very refined and perfectionist, which makes the compositions feel very natural but also unpredictable in captivating ways.

FL - This is what I call 'sonogenic composition', i.e., a practice of creative work with sound (and listening) in which sound themselves lead the way; not merely as 'samples' of elements to be placed in a pre-existing structure / grid / idea, but a generators of structure, pace, dynamics, texture and anything else imaginable in a sonic work. That's why I dislike the term 'manipulation'; in this context, I'd rather use 'evolution', which describes more reliably what takes place in this process.

OL -The results are more important than the tools used, however one thing that intrigued me is your manipulation and usage of low to sub-bass frequency layers of sound within many of your compositions, even those from the early 1980s, with low to sub-bass frequency sounds being an area of sonic matter that falls somewhere between the audible and felt area of sound and its direction being hard for humans to discern, how do you view this field of sonic matter relating to your compositions? Is it an area of the spectrum which you intuitively often accentuate in compositions or is this area one which you've gotten used to working with overtime to fully utilize the audible (and inaudible) spectrum of sound we can hear from sub-bass to very high frequencies?

FL - I like rich music, in all imaginable senses. That naturally includes the frequency spectrum, both audible and sensible (we do a lot of our hearing haptically in the low and sub-low ranges). As I've learned to compose largely through an intensive and extensive listening interaction with the world, those low frequencies are a 'natural' part of my sonic palette.

OL - a bunch of stuff(1980-2020) features excerpts which are often quite a bit shorter than your full compositions and releases, your full releases often feature long single compositions or a collection of shorter compositions making up one full "untitled" album release, besides these you've also released a few released a few albums which span several hour up til a full day worth of listening. In the compilation context and with the albums featuring shorter compositions the whole listening experience flows in an intriguing manner at times, with some pieces having a hard cut at the end rather than a fade-out or silence, this can have the effect at times of sudden realization of the composition's finite state within the album. Additionally, releases that span multiple hours can have the effect of the listener's listening mode moving from a focussed listening to a state in between listening and the sounds seeping into the subconscious of the listener creating certain emotions or triggering memories, What is your approach in selecting compositions for the albums and compilation releases, taking into account the listener experience? And further zooming in on time disappearing from our perception as we're fully focussed on the sounds, especially when listening to your multi-hour releases, is there a difference in terms of creating these extended-length releases to your other albums and compilation, relating to the listening experience you present?

FL - I like to be compositionally free to work with time. Traditional limitations like the length of a record or a radio show shouldn't limit our adventures in creative listening. To me, mega-long compositions (i.e., 24-hour or longer, like some of my pieces) generate micro-worlds of sonic experience that suggest a different kind of listening -one that gets closer to a form of 'inhabiting sound', which is tremendously suggestive. Different people will approach such extensions in varied ways, but I believe they always generate an unusual and fruitful potential for a very different, interesting and appealing experience of sonic matter as space and as time.

Many thanks to Francisco López for sending over the physical release as well as answering these questions and sharing such inspiring insights. Before we dive into the analyses of the separate parts as well as thoughts on my favourites tracks on this compilation I’ll mention what you can expect from the physical version of a bunch of stuff (1980-2020). Like most of Francisco’s releases the focus is all on the music and immersive sonic experience itself, so the USB business card itself features quite minimalistic design combined with a lovely photo of fire however. The content of the USB business card itself is a liner notes PDF file as well as the full compilation with 15 folders making up all the parts. Every folder contains the tracks as lossless 16-bit/44.1kHz CD quality files. While the best listening experience of Francisco Lopez’ work is by going into the compositions with a fully clear mind without knowing in advance what to expect in terms of a description or listings of sources used, the liner notes file does list the sound sources for some some of the tracks although Francisco isn’t getting specific about what these exactly consist of so beside the credits and tracklist parts not spoiling anything these source details are still staying cryptic enough to not reveal the workings behind the magic of Francisco’s compositions. Let’s now dive into a bunch of stuff (1980-2020).

a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) starts with first part All In. All In features a collection of pieces that mix various compositional approaches López takes together, with the All In being appropriate as “maximalist” pieces in terms of density of the sound matter or layering. In terms of sound matter I spotted bird and cicadas but there are also some “hidden” melodies in some of these pieces, either through certain resonances within the sound layers used or as series of tones that peek through the textures. López’ signature very low sub bass frequencies (also mentioned in my mini-interview and subtle glitches also appear within these pieces. In my favourite track 2012 - With_In [excerpt] López brings us an eerie tapestry of mysterious swirling resonant wheezing sound that flutters left and right, makes percussive shifting clicks to the left and right side and appears as this cloud of shaky sonic matter we are floating in ourselves. The perspective shifts from within (no pun intended) the sound matter to looking at this matter from a distance but the general experience is definitely very much grounded within the sound itself. The aforementioned hidden melodies appear in this piece too, in the form of hollow resonant diffuse tones that add this mysterious ambience of uncertainty to the emotional situation that might arise from our being in this environment. Whilst quick shifts do occur in some of Francisco’s compositions, the gradual continuous nature of this piece definitely helps the subtle shifting of focus within the layers of sounds as well letting the sonic matter work onto your mind in a certain meditative state. Delusional Cinematic follows, which features chopped up, at times quite abrasive collage like compositions of various sound matter including environmental sounds, movie sounds and music fragments. At times the compositions are stylistically comparable to Noise in their uncompromising more harsher edged nature. The pieces also feature rather clever transitions making for listening experiences that are as captivating as films or TV series themselves but in this case the imagery is purely mind-created.The strengths of my favourite track 2017 - untitled #360 [excerpt] are both in the silent brooding atmosphere of the composition within this longer 10:27 minutes excerpt and the way it progresses from one situation to the other. Starting from this eerie minimalist situation featuring quite a lot of shifting, rustling and clicking high pitched sonic matter there is something quite eerie about the idle space in between the sounds which creates a bit of a vacuum effect within the space and the at times wildly varying spectra and panning of the sounds themselves makes for quite some disjointed bits and pieces being scattered around this space as well, feels quite like being in a medieval village whilst sounds appear and disappear out of nowhere. In its second phase the piece moves into a battlefield of wild low frequency laden combat, helicopter whirling, a lot of (gun)shots and a further brooding mass of low frequency rumbling following up the first phase’s more resonant metallic waves of lower pitched sound. The transition from the battle to the dive underwater in which the battle can still be heard but in a more muffled state is one of my favourite aspects from this piece as it does add such a natural flow to the aural narrative this conjures up in my mind. I’d say this piece does mix Francisco’s more purely textural qualities with an inspired sense of rapid-cut composition making this one of his pieces which you can listen to through filtering and diving into its layers as well as letting your mind make up its own story through the progression from phase to phase within the composition. The next part Drone World features Drone pieces in the sense of especially hypnotic high frequency streams of sound, rhythmic sounding environmental sound matter as well as low bass frequencies and resonances. My favourite piece on this part is 1992 - Hypogeion [excerpt]. The piece is noticeably quite a bit louder than the other compositions before it on this part and whilst Francisco is clearly not trying to make a composition in a traditional manner this piece stylistically does remind me of 90’s Tribal Ambient, albeit in a more improvised manner. Featuring an array of highly resonant and bassy mallet tones as well as reverberant tribal style percussion the except of this piece showcases a particularly intense part of the composition moving into a more laid-back sustained phase. Somewhere in between mysterious factory and Egyptian pyramid sonics it features some excellent mixtures of dense tonal layers blending into each other with the overtones creating diffuse and at times dissonant interactions of sound. The percussive elements are quite high pitched throughout with quite some crystal like sounds flowing throughout the sonic space like grains of silver but overall the layers of sound flow much more like rippling shuddering waves that are often shifting from interlocking to interfering creating that always captivating element of mystery within Francisco López’ compositions. Afterwards in the Lo-Fi Broad-Band Tape Noiselationism part we have Noise oriented pieces made up of collages of sound matter of an Industrial and more organic nature as well as AM radio sourced sounds in compositions that feature some sweet droning and rhythmic sub bass frequencies. The pieces are more minimalist in terms of composition but equally captivating and showcase the more extreme side of López oldest works. My favourite track 1983 - untitled (1983) [excerpt] features most of the aforementioned elements. It’s a raw, lo-fi composition made up of various layers of electronic signals broadcast over shortwave radio with its beginning being the most recognisable in terms of source. However as always with Francisco’s compositions, the immersive experience is much more important than trying to further analyze what the actual sounds are and in this case it’s a particularly physical listening experience. The sound is grainy and often artefact laden, filled with hiss and sharp frequencies and in this fragment there is some kind of pattern of tones recognisable within its first half, as a whole however it sounds more like flying through an electric interference laden sky in which bits of metal are swirling around you in this cloud of disturbance and interference. Unlike some of the other 1980s composition excerpts on this compilation however this piece features a few hard cuts and changes to different clouds of fragile sound. Whilst being a continuous stream of hissy sound matter the piece eventually breaks up into shards of sharp irregular shaped sound movements until the fade-out. It’s definitely quite noisy in a way but I feel it’s also quite organic as all of Francisco’s works are, the sounds flow as freely as nature does and never feel artificial compared to what generally is considered as natural sounds. Following part Medium With No Message moves through various types of recording and playback medium based compositions both analogue and digital but actually does recall a lot of the crackling sounds and resonances from Francisco’s environmental sound matter based works as well. There is some recognisable glitch work in the last piece however but this again sounds more crystalline like than the at times clinical sounding works by other Glitch oriented artists. When we look at my favourite piece on this part 2002 - untitled #128 we find a piece that is minimalist in terms of its textural density. Quite like a breeze of wind subtly increasing in intensity, crackles, ticks, pops and other little grains of sound matter gradually build up a subtle rustling cloud of sound accompanied by mysterious tonal elements. Just like the diffuse spectrum of a light shower combined with how you can sense a lot of details in these sounds within quieter environments this piece offers a lot of depth, ever-changing bits of sounds within the subtly intertwined layers as the fluid qualities of the sound grip your ears and mind in a both intriguing and enjoyable manner. In the following part Mutated Locations we can find pieces based on environmental sound matter which are evolved into repeating rhythms, strange resonances as well as eerie and metallic layers of sound. The first few pieces carry Francisco’s darker Industrial like sonic approach to composition whilst pieces later on within the track list have a lighter (cleaner) sound and utilise the sub bass frequencies in a more intense manner as well as featuring less audible techniques of evolving sound matter. Whilst Francisco’s compositions aren’t really dark, I do often get a pretty eerie feeling from some pieces which I do like a lot and the more directly hitting approach of some of the compositions works better than the forced subtlety that some other sound artists would try to keep within their compositions. In my favourite track on this part, 2014 - untitled #321 [excerpt] we have a rather gripping flow of events. Just like the other tracks surrounding this one there’s quite a lot of depth in this piece and the imagery conjured up in my mind by this composition also particularly feels like looking at this sonic environment from above. As I felt this piece, it’s like a mass of clattering and shifting sounds as well as rather high pitched details quickly increasing in intensity as the layers demand more and more attention culminating into some particularly spooking train whistle like tones which keep hanging in the air at the end of this except until fade-out. The whole track feels quite like exploring one of these areas in which unused train carriages are stored, some of which rusting and degrading away until we’re suddenly transported to a used railway in which a brownish grey transport train is just about heading our way. Then on the following part Nice Noise we indeed have a collection of Noise styled compositions by Francisco which ranges from early metallic sound matter collages forming streams of layered Noise to more glitchy and granulated sounds in later tracks, cleaner hissy sounds with the last track blending these elements together in a similar way like pieces on the All In part. This last track, 2020 - untitled #380 [except] is also my favourite piece from this part. With Francisco combining various approaches from the 4 decades he is active by now within this piece he also created a very captivating mysterious sonic environment within this piece which is less abstract than other pieces but makes for a very unique listening experience with its combination of environmental sounds and brooding hypnotic tones. It’s quite like this dream about a cold dark forest you find yourself in which is “breathing” as one entity, with the animals providing soundtracks to this process of breathing through the hissy and hollow sounds they produce, the strange low thumps at the end, further thicken the surreal plot of this sonic story. Non-Representational Environmental Sound Matter is the part that follows and is in a way similar to Mutated Locations in terms of selection but inverts the compositional approach by showcasing Francisco’s environmental sound matter pieces with less extreme evolution within the sound matter itself but instead use some great layering, unpredictable structures and amplification creating immersive listening experiences in which some sounds are still recognizable at times but form elements within newly composed environments that are like the title says different from just reality. The excerpts on this part are also longer and feature more gradual progressions within which makes for more meditative like listening experiences as you shift your focus through the various layers within. My favourite piece in here is 2011 - Hyper-Rainforest [except]. It’s the longest excerpt Francisco has taken from any piece on this compilation but it’s also especially good that he’s selected a long part of it in the editing process as it’s a rather subtly enveloping composition. There’s a lot of sonic details of the rainforest you can pick up in this one, especially the many different animals within the rainforest, but also various other natural environmental sounds. One of the best things about the way this piece is composed however is the combination of shifting layers with an almost narrative like progression of sonic situations and directions, but all the while staying within the same sonic universe, giving us the ability to travel without moving, but in a different sense. I found it particularly enjoyable to shift through listening modes, at times spotting certain sounds, at other times taking in the effect of the entities within the sound matter and letting the fabric of each of this work on mind as well as sense of depth in the sonic space through listening. Indeed through the shifting layers you also start to sense the location of certain sounds within the depth of the piece as at times having a strangely reverberating acoustic distance to them whilst still sounding as being in the same sonic universe making for a quite magical listen. The progression of the piece towards the rain shower which abruptly ends into a sudden quiet section of soft chirping sounds adds a radio play like narrative element to the piece too as Francisco provides a bit of a frame for the behaviour of all sonic elements within the piece as certain changes that appear within this environment. It heightens the immersion too as not only do the changes make your part of the sonic universe, but they also point towards the deeper subconscious effects of streams of full spectrum sound matter like rain and the many layers of diffusion hidden around the centre of it. In the following part Sonic Seeds and Mega-Evolution Francisco utilises sonic seeds, which sound similar in approach to grains of sound to sculpt mostly unrecognisable sound matter into richly resonant, metallic and often glitchy forms. This part starts with an amalgamation of layers of sonic matter, after which the pieces grow ever more rhythmic and at times recognisably melodic in a way. The results of this sonic approach are somewhat similar to some pieces in the Nice Noise part but in this case the compositions are showcasing more of Francisco’s abstract Glitch like works, differing from his compositions grounded in environmental sonic matter but still bearing some similarities with the organic sound matter in terms of crackling clicks and the usage of high frequency sound. My favourite piece on this part is 2020 - untitled #383 [excerpt] and this one is a particularly glitchy composition. Following a nice gradual progression throughout this excerpt, the composition builds from a cloud of metallic crackles to a final section of glowing droning tones. All throughout we can dive into the various layers of clicky and mostly pointy sound matter that make up the framework of sonic actions that make up this composition feeling somewhere between machinery rhythms and liquid organic matter. The buzzing glitched “bass” tones make for a great ground of the framework, driving the composition forward with quite rumbling low frequencies which when combined with the glowing tones of the final section make for a quite intriguing combination of abstracted rhythmic sound and glowing diffuse sound combined within the same sonic universe. It does remind me a bit of Autechre as well in terms of approach, although in a less chaotic and more organic manner. Afterwards in the part Soundtracks With No Real Subservience we can listen to a selection of soundtrack pieces by Francisco, composed for various films, including art films and documentary. Moving from intense Noise like compositions towards less abrasive compositions featuring concrete and environmental sound matter, Francisco works with sounds within a more narrative type of fashion with the pace of the compositions being quicker and having more of an emotional edge to them. There’s also some more division in sections audible within these pieces as well as the darker qualities of environmental sound matter. In my favourite piece 2016 - Anima Ardens [excerpt] we are presented with another intriguing situation as the piece combines quite peaceful organic sound matter with layers of metallic clangs as well as a brooding diffuse tonal cloud hanging in the air. Quite like finding a mysterious wooden house which is also used as a metal workshop the juxtaposition also makes it feel quite like roaming around in the forest at night. The sharp swirls and clicking sounds, combined with the hollow tones and clangs instantly conjure up quite some magical imagery as these elements start to blend into each other as well as change or fade out whilst remaining a continuous flow of sound keeping its grip on you within the sonic universe. Next part The Ultra-Quiet, Not Conceptual features some of Francisco's quietest pieces. Indeed these are excerpts from his pieces that feature quite a lot of very quiet sound matter and silence moving from a hollow resonant flow of sound to soft rustling and clicks to some surprisingly intense sections of sub-bass frequencies in later pieces within this part. These sub-bass frequency section do also feature in my favourite piece on this part, 2013 - untitled #309 [excerpt] and in this case they’re accompanied by muffled mysterious drones that fade into soft-focus out of the silence. Like most pieces on this parts it’s a very subtle listening experience best listened to on good speakers, including a subwoofer or headphones with a good bass response to properly hear the subtle sonics Francisco builds up in her creep out of their corners. Afterwards on the next part VirtuAural Machines Francisco zooms in on his machinery based pieces. The part features a mixture of approaches to the sonic experience of machinery itself moving from relatively rough softly saturated Industrial like pieces to the usage of percussive mechanical elements to create hypnotic sonic framework as well as eerie sonic universes made up of huge halls filled with heavy clangs of equipment, siren like diffuse, distant tones and pointy and hissy sonics blending together into enveloping streams of sound around us. Whilst some of the sources on this part are at times recognisable in a way, there’s a lot of enjoyment to be had once again by the strange textural qualities of the sound matter as these entities in themselves have a particular enjoyable quality within them here, which is helped by the often spacious panning within the compositions. Favourite piece 1990 - Fango de Euriptéridos [excerpt] utilises the aforementioned spacious panning rather well and also amplifies another aspect of machinery in that it’s based a lot around shimmering tonal resonances reverberating through a large spaces rather than emphasising the (harsh) hissing and repetitive elements of machinery. It features various types of sonic actions but the general sonic focus is on this warm glowing mass of resonance that vibrates in certain ways as well, creating shifting droning tones that seem to make the floor vibrate as well. A quite “temple” like approach to an Industrial sonic universe. Following part Within The Noosphere features a rather different kind of compositions by Francisco in that most of these pieces are built up out of many layers of other music, which are evolved in various manners. Moving from pretty intense tape collages to tumbling Plunderphonics Metal barrages to the rather amusing wailing stretched tones of the old song sampled of a vinyl recorded on the last track it’s Francisco’s compositional work at its most structurally and sonically disruptive. Favourite piece 1994 - Concert for 300 Magnetic Tapes [excerpt] feels quite like a mountain landscape built out of many types of sonic matter. Most matter used within this piece is quite noisy, quirky and quite explosive too but the general fuzzy and crumbling nature of all these bits combined does still conjured up this curious imagery of a mountain landscape made up of sonic material. Recognisably musical and human sounds are at times still audible in between the cracks of the mass of sound, but in a subtle way. The following part Xeno-Instruments features a selection of Francisco’s “acoustic” pieces, in the sense that some of the compositions do feature acoustic musical instruments, at times without much audible post-production. The results are quite mysterious as can be expected from Francisco’s approach, feeling quite like the sound of the earth crust being broken open, sharp clouds of buzzing sonics, thundering percussion rhythms and wooden rumbles travelling through the room. Indeed most of the time it’s not even audible that there are actual acoustic instruments used, which is definitely the quality of Francisco’s work in that he consistently keeps evolving the sonic universes he conjures up and can find richness, “alien” new elements as well as captivating details though any method of composition and with any sound matter he finds making for a very solid but still diverse body of work. The aforementioned wooden rumbles feature in my favourite piece 2011 - untitled #275 [excerpt]. Built up out of rhythmic elements, low rumbles as well as diffused spooky tones the piece progresses in a subtle and deep manner. There’s this great metallic bell like clang that creates regular accents in the first half of this excerpt filling the room with rich resonance periodically. The rhythmically moving wooden elements form irregular patterns that do follow a certain scheme of sections in terms of there appearance and are spiky but also somewhat dampened in nature. Strangely reverberating tones almost form a diffuse melody in the second half which then moves into a brooding cloud of tonal sonic matter. It’s the kind of piece that feels somewhere in between your room starting to create its own sonic universe as well as the sonic picture of an abandoned wooden windmill’s mechanical sounds of past activity. Final part Yes, Humans features compositions that all feature recognisable human sounds or traces of these in various manners moving from amusing locally recorded environmental sound matter to layered children’s choir recordings and a further direction of ever more evolved and abstract sound matter culminating in one of Francisco's most recent compositions (from the last few years) on the final track. This final part quite nicely compiles Francisco's approaches in a way, as radio play like recordings moving in the ever more mysterious abstract and at times cinematic sonics of Francisco’s later works. My favourite track here is the rather short but sweet 1992 - Sofia [excerpt]. In nature is more straight-forward than other pieces on this part but I do find the juxtaposition and sounds themselves within this piece rather nice. It starts with a TV recording of some kind of Soviet TV commercial which sounds all cosy and sweet but afterwards cuts to this Russian Orthodox(?) church in which can hear chants. I especially do like this combination as the commercial seems to recall the memories of the Soviet Union in perhaps a bit overly rosy manner while the church sounds totally loose from anything that might conjure up bad memories and sounds much more peaceful in a way. The way you can hear Francisco walking around the church as well as all kinds of extra noises including a loud cough, footsteps and muffled talking adds to the amusing nature of this piece. The lo-fi nature of the recording also makes the chants themselves feel more like a cloud of tonal sonic matter as syllables get a bit drowned out in the recording. Francisco López’ a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) is an excellent compilation showcasing a great selection of Francisco’s rich discography of compositions which by now reach over 40 years. Full of immersive, uncompromising sonics this compilation is a rewarding listen for anyone who wants to get into Francisco’s music and wants to have a curated overview of his discography to get started diving into his full-length and shorter releases. There’s also some great material in this compilation for fans of Francisco who already have multiple of his releases as the rarer material and recent pieces offer some further sonic enjoyment and the compilation’s selection and sequencing also offers a new more mixtape style manner to enjoy Francisco’s compositions. It’s a recommended compilation for anyone who wants to get into Francisco López as well as fans of Noise, Sound Art, Tape based experimental music, Glitch as well as a uniquely personal approach to sound matter based experimental music, sonogenic composition. Definitely check this out.

You can order a copy of the physical USB business card edition here: https://www.blackhole.la/webshop/francisco-lpez-a-bunch-of-stuff-1980-2020?fbclid=IwAR3pcZfCIT-3Y7BR2M7AjTuph_3TWUm2ZHFjwmuNadir21X_imHnv9ODiZk

[ladye11e]

Deception pt 32

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Sorry for the late update peeps, Tumblr was being it's usual crappy self and wouldn't post! 😣

Tagging @geekgoddess813 @sweet-flash @ermergerd517 @i-wontgivein @imakemyownblog 💕💕

Link to the full fic so far is Here.

Pressing your hand against the stitch in your side after running down thirty eight flights of stairs, you burst through the exit and slammed it shut, leaning up against it while the others pushed up a dumpster, blocking it entirely so the dozen odd guards couldn't continue pursuing you.

"Well, that didn't exactly go as planned," Desmond panted, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "Hopefully we got what we needed though. (Name), you coming with?"

Nodding as you figured you had better tag along; so you didn't raise any suspicions, you caught his spare helmet when he chucked it at you, tugging it on and sliding onto the back of his bike. Quickly winding your arms around him, you burst out laughing and held on for dear life as he apparently thought it would be amusing to race Altaïr, when he pulled off with a wheelspin in his Camero.

Just managing to pry your white knuckles from around Desmond's waist when he pulled up to the Homestead in record time, you cursed under your breath before taking off your helmet, as you hadn't managed to nab the memory stick out of his hoodie pocket thanks to his Moto GP style riding.

"Are you sure you went fast enough Desmond? We aren't supposed to draw attention to ourselves, remember?" Altaïr chided as he got out of his car about a minute later.

"Says you who burned rubber on the way out. You're just a sore loser!"

Biting your lips so you didn't laugh at Altaïrs glaring, you followed them up to the manor and walked straight past the guards; as Desmond just waved them off, and down a corridor to the right, somewhere you had never been since the renovations.

"Can't tell at aaaall you're back, whats next, blood sample?" You scoffed, after passing the palm reader and retina scanner to the central security office.

"Given the circumstances, that might not be a bad idea (name). This way."

Taking in every little detail as you were led through the security room; that now looked somewhat similar to the facility hidden above the suit shop, your mouth dropped open in awe when you came to a large console at the end, standing behind Desmond when both the men took their seats at the desk respectively. Twelve state of the art screens were attached to the large framework in front of you, each one with a different purpose. Flight plans, a list of active members in the field, security footage of the night of the ball and suchlike, until they all went dark when Altair took the USB off Desmond and plugged it in, cracking his knuckles before typing at his usual slow and steady pace.

"Well, looks like it weren't a total loss, there's something on here at least."

You gripped the back of the chair when several folders popped up onto each of the screens; including the Warehouse 25 and video files, and they began opening them one by one, dismissing anything irrelevant like nondescript business-related matters, schedules or banking documents.

"So boys, you gonna tell me about this traitor then? I didn't have a chance to get filled in with everything going on."

Altaïr stopped what he was doing and spun his chair so he could face you; gesturing for Desmond to continue working on the files, his eyes flickering to your hands that were unconsciously on the verge of ripping off the back of Desmond's chair.

"Firstly, you can tell me why you are so, fidgety?"

Letting go and flexing your fingers when you realised what he was looking at, you scowled at the screen when Desmond had already reached the halfway point of his perusing, putting one hand on your hip while wafting the other at the monitors.

"Traaaaaaitooooor... Aren't you just a little bit pissed off?!"

"A valid point. We have noticed some wrongdoings for some time now, and the situation has become progressively obvious. The Templars always know what we are up to, and then there was the theft. I am assuming that you don't know, but after your mission in London, the money that you retrieved was stolen from the safe house mere days later?"

Raising your eyebrows and shaking your head, you glanced back at Desmond's progress and clenched your jaw to act as if you were annoyed at this information, running several scenarios in your head that would distract them enough to stop what they were doing, but none of them seemed feasible at this moment in time.

"No, I didn't. That's not all you've got to go on, surely?"

"Of course not," Altaïr grumbled irritably, leaning over the desk to pull over a thick file and flicking it open. "We had a contact at Templar headquarters, until recently. She informed one of our members that she heard Kenway and Lee conversing, well more, arguing, about the risks of having an assassin spy. That is why we were there, to see if Kenway kept any information on this defector. I'm assuming you remember Arno?"

"Vaguely, one of your friends that came over from Europe last year?" You mumbled, your attention almost entirely focused on where Desmond was one away from opening the Warehouse folder.

"Yes. He relocated to over here because he was seeing a woman, who just happened to turn out to be a Templar. Elise, I think he said her name was, one of Kenways assistants. Well, before they broke up, she was the one who told him this information, and of course, Arno contacted us straight away."

Your eyes widened when he passed you the folder; which was a dossier on the apparent informant, your gaze settling on the photograph of the redhead that you had a slight encounter with earlier today, wishing you had done more than nearly snapped her finger off now.

"Hey, there's a thought! How about I set you up with Arno? I know you like them tall, dark and foreign."

Slapping Desmond on the arm with a scoff when he spun around and wiggled his eyebrows at you, you handed the folder back to Altair and chose to reveal your 'relationship', as if anything, it would keep him distracted for just a little while longer.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I've already got someone. Thanks though."

"What? Who?! Since when? It's not that bloke from before, is it??"

"It is actually," you huffed when he frowned at you in disapproval. "Bit of crossed wires after all that, it wasn't him that was dicking about. Found out that it was actually his friend I caught doing the dirty."

"That is enough of this idle chatter you two. We came here to gather intelligence, not to discuss our personal lives."

Pulling a face behind Altaïr's back and mumbling jealous cos you haven't got one; which Desmond chuckled at before turning back around and carrying on with the computer, you lent over his shoulder when he finally opened the warehouse folder, screwing up your nose when it was nothing but list upon list of eleven digit numbers and letters.

"What the... Those look like the numbers of our shipping containers down at the docks?!"

Your eyes didn't once leave the screen as Desmond scrolled through the list, familiarity swarming through you as he went past a sectioned off block, placing where you had seen them before a split second later. They were from the message William Johnson had asked you to give to Haytham, urgently. Before you had any chance to ponder it further, all of the screens jumped about in a flash of green and yellow before going black, loud trumpet fanfare ringing through the speakers. You quickly bit your lips together, so you didn't laugh when Woody Woodpecker filled the monitors, but you failed to keep your composure when Wile E. Coyote followed, sitting on an Acme rocket with a devious grin before lighting it up and splatting himself against the screen.

"You find this amusing (name)?!"

Wincing when Altaïr glared at you as if you had just insulted his mother, you cleared your throat and lowered your head ashamed, but still grit your teeth together with a smirk when Elmer Fudd crept on the screen and pretended he had a Tommy gun and, was shooting towards you.

"No, sir. Not the situation, I was laughing at the cartoons. Don't you like them?"

"No. I do not. Only a weak mind would find these funny," he scolded while throwing Desmond a filthy look, who was now staring at the Tv's and grinning. "Didn't you run the antivirus software??"

"Hey, don't you blame me for this! Of course I did, if you don't trust me, you can do it yourself next time."

Altaïr waved his hand irritably before picking up another report; thinner this time, eyeing you up dubiously before handing it to you.

"As I was saying before this disaster, Arno contacted us straight away, and also helped us compile a theory. We believe that the person we are looking for had to be at both theft locations, which narrows the pool down significantly."

Flicking through the paperwork and reading it at your usual rapid speed, you trailed your finger down the sheet when you came across a list of the people that were in your group in London, all of the names crossed out, apart from three. Henrys, Jacobs, and your own.

"As you can see we have narrowed it down to less than a handful of people, who had the opportunity to contact the Templars, due to a, disappearance during each event. I have my own idea of who it could be."

You rolled your tongue in your cheek as you carried on reading times and dates of when you were all unaccounted for, until you glanced up through your eyelashes to him staring at you blankly.

"Y-you think it's m-"

"Henry Green."

Dropping the file on the floor and wholly gobsmacked for a moment, you fell to your knees so you could pick up all of the documents that were now scattered about, bursting out into hysterics when you snatched up several surveillance photographs from London.

"Henry?! Really? You've gotta be kidding," You blurted when you finally managed to calm yourself down slightly and catch your breath. "He's the last person I'd suspect, the man doesn't have a devious bone in his body!"

"Do you have another suggestion then?"

Shaking your head quickly as his eyes narrowed and you felt like you were under a microscope, you finished stuffing all of the papers back into the folder and handed it back, now rather eager to get out of here as soon as humanly possible.

"No, sir. But I do think you're wrong. Why him?"

"He cannot account for his whereabouts for a portion of the ball for starters, while you were dancing I believe? And then there is the fact he has access to all of our intelligence, plus numerous contacts and allies all over the world. It was also he that suggested that specific safe house in Whitechapel. All of the evidence is against him. Desmond, fix this. Now. Or so help me I'll have you scrubbing toilets for the next week."

Satisfied you were in the clear for now, you slowly began inching your way towards the door as it looked like the men were about to get into a full blown argument; and you didn't want to be caught in the middle, freezing to the spot when they both suddenly stopped mid-sentence and turned to face you as soon as you turned the door handle.

"Where are you going?!" They both chanted simultaneously, Altaïr irritably and Desmond pleading.

"Umm, home? Not exactly much I can do here as it looks like a virus has wiped what we've stolen, and it is gone three in the morning."

"I'll give you a lift."

You didn't even have a chance to reply before Desmond jumped up out of his chair and grabbed you by the arm, almost giving you whiplash as he dragged you out of the manor in his haste to get away from his boss.

As soon as you made it to your apartment, you ran inside and slammed the door behind you, slumping down it and rubbing your face in your hands vigorously. This was all going so very wrong, and there was not a chance in hell that you would let Henry take the fall for this. Pulling out your phone and seeing that it was nearly eight in the morning in London, you stared at the wall after going through your contacts list, trying to think of what you could say as the ringing continued in your ear.

This is the voicemail of Henry Green. If you would be so kind, please leave a message after the beep.

Oh for fuck's sake .... "Henry! You need to call me back asap! It's urgent!"

Hanging up your phone and dropping it down on the floor next to you, you banged your head on the door out of habit more than anything else, wincing when you jumped and did it again; harder this time, as your ringtone blared in the air.

"Henry?!"

"(Name), what's the matter? Are you in trouble??"

"I'll explain in a minute, you need to answer me something first. Achilles birthday, you ran off for a bit while I was dancing? Where did you go??"

You rubbed your temples when only silence returned, but you knew he was still there as you could hear him breathing down the line.

"Henry. Come on, this is important!"

"Okay. I was with Jacob, trying to calm him down when you went off with Sergei. His temper was through the roof, and I was afraid he was going to do something stupid. Well, more stupid than normal anyway. What does it matter?"

"Can anyone else vouch for you?"

"I don't think so, other than Jacob. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Great. The only person who could help dig Henry out of this just happened to be the one other that was being suspected of treason. You didn't care about yourself anymore, your only goal was to get Henry's name cleared as this was all of your fault in the first place.

"You're being investigated as a potential traitor, working with the Templars."

Holding your phone away from your ear when he began yelling down it; saying that was absurd and he would never betray anyone, you pressed the loudspeaker button when you couldn't get a word in edgeways, and to save your eardrum from exploding.

"Henry... Henry! HENRY! Will you shut up for one damned second!! Thank you." You grumbled when he finally stopped being hysterical.

"I know it's not you, I told them as much. It's all a big misunderstanding okay? Right, now here's what we're gonna do..."

Dragging yourself up off the floor and stomping over to your kitchen, you flicked the kettle on, to prepare yourself for yet another sleepless night.