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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years ago

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Elizabeth Debicki - Gorgeous

A/N & WC - Back again with Elizabeth and Taylor Swift. Reputation is my favourite album currently, with evermore as a close second. Two incredible women in one yes please. Listen to 'Gorgeous' while reading for the feel of it. 2.8k exactly.

Warnings - Legal alcohol consumption, mild cursing once.

Summary - Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

“YOU'RE SO GORGEOUS…”

“What was that?” Elizabeth swiftly cuts in.

Your eyes grow wide in an instant, looking down intensely at the black table, sticky with spilt drinks, and turn your attention away.

“Nothing…” you trail off. Frankly, you hadn’t realised you were thinking aloud, but if you said what you were thinking, then tonight's girls night out with your best friend is gonna be a whole lot harder.

“So as I was saying, this guy from Bumble, he comes and he looks nothing like his profile picture, right?” Her eyes are so animated when she speaks, her jaw agog in a remembering shock, she taps at her glass with ebony painted fingernails. “Like his picture was a solid eight outta ten, but in person, not even a four. But there was something about him, you know? That little twinkle in his eye, so I gave him more of a fair shot than I do other catfishes.” You hum noncommittally, not necessarily listening to the words, but the soft undulating animation in her beautiful accent is worth listening to any day, even if just hearing about her going on a date with someone riles you up intensely. “No personality,” she gapes, smacking her lissom hands down on the table with a slight thump, causing some of her wine to spill. “Absolutely none! It was like talking to a brick wall for half an hour. Can you believe it? And he asked what part of Australia I was from, and when I said Melbourne, you know what he said? ‘Is that in New Zealand.’”

She scoffs, and downs the last of her wine. Her magnetic field is so strong, so alluring, you can’t help but feel drawn to her even more. She really should think about the consequences of her charisma or else you might snog her and ruin everything before the nights even over.

“What a dick,” you play along.

“Ugh, I know. Refill?”

“Please. Whiskey—”

“On ice. I know, hon.”

She smirks, shooting you a wink before standing up and practically gliding across the room to the bar. Your eyes twinkle with hope, with sinful want, as you watch her, and you’re sure that with your wistful expression and flushed cheeks and the way your mouth suddenly goes dry the second she says or does anything that could be construed in the least bit flirtatious that she knows how much you like her. Your whole body tingles, your words and sense swallowed up by an intense fire the second she touches you, it’s beginning to make you furious that she’s able to make you feel this way and still acts so coy about it if she even does have the first clue how utterly besotted you are with everything she does.

Over at the bar, Liz has to hunch to lean her forearms on the countertop, kicking her feet back a little, her short dress showing off her long, shapely legs with grace. She looks so sultry, with her leather jacket shrugged so casually over her pale shoulders. But your mind and illicit thoughts plummet and die the second you peer around her and capture a look at the bartender she’s talking to. Tall and that muscular build of slim that only comes from years of sport, a pinched waist and full chest, tanned skin—perhaps of Filipina descent, dark inky hair falling in tendrils from her work ponytail, no makeup and she still looks stunning. And exactly like Shay Mitchell. And she's flirting with your Elizabeth. Not that she’s yours or anything, that would be absurd, unless…

This woman is gorgeous, and you’re already jealous of her, of the attention she’s receiving from Elizabeth; the suggestive touches, the coy laughs, the revealing tug of her dress, the tentative tilt of her head, the run of her slender hand through her choppy blonde locks. But because Liz is single, it’s actually worse, because she’s been a lot more open and experimental with her sexuality recently, not labelling it but trying more out, trying more partners out. And you don’t fault her for that for even a moment, but why she can’t experiment with you, a raging queer, is beyond your grasp. It’s almost undoubted that she’s going to be taking this incredibly scorching hot bartender home at the end of the night, and if you weren’t out with Elizabeth, you’d be making the same move. But Liz… she desperately needs to think of the consequences of her touching this romans hand in a darkened room. That should be you.

You can’t get too possessive, though, as Liz has done her fair amount of touching you all night on this signature girls pub crawl, but it’s not the same, it’s not… enough. She’s been holding your hand, hooking her arm through yours to do shots, hugging you with her lithe arm around your waist as you totter down the high street in heels too high. It’s all been too friendly, though. And now it’s getting late, your final destination of the night. You’re practically the only patrons with a conscience at this point. You’ll be turning in soon, the bar will be closing soon, it’s inevitable. Liz will have a warm bed, and you’ll be left to go home alone to your cats. She’s so gorgeous, you can't blame the bartender, but she can’t blame you wither; love made you crazy.

You’re busy brooding over the ice slowly melting at the bottom of your glass, condensation forming in droplets on the rim when Liz casts a glance over her shoulder, a bright beaming smile etched upon her face, every line drawn up to match her glee. She points a long raven-painted digit at you, and prompts you to smile back, which you do—without even half as much fervour—and ensure you incline your head towards the bartender, whose dark hazel eyes are now fixed on you, before turning back, pretending to have found something of interest on the table.

“That’s y/n,” she says in a happy, furtive whisper, “my best friend.”

With her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, your mind is all scrambled, and with the intense feeling you might sink and drown and die, you know you need to get it in order before she returns, so you push your own stool out and head to stand in the doorway, fresh air hitting you like a brick wall.

The smell of the city instantly prevents it being worthwhile.

The sun set long ago, and you can see vines crawling up the building across the road from you, even in the dim street light and shadows. Even in a tucked away corner of the city, down back streets in a quiet quarter, the incessant incense of exhaust fumes and chippy food and pigeon shit never quite leaves one alone.

Everything’s winding down, quietening, muffled by an indelible blanket of night. A soft mist fills the air, an impending storm infiltrating your senses, roiling you a little. The walk home will be made worse by the rain soon to fall, ire digging at you for more reasons than one.

Elizabeth… She can make you so happy with one simple look that it turns back to sadness the moment you see the flicker of friendliness in her eyes, never anything more, never anything deeper, not once. What can you say? She’s gorgeous, she’s everyone else's for the taking, whoever she deems rakish enough to take home for the night.

The silence of the night, of your thoughts, is hewn by a sharp siren whizzing past you, so you push your pain away, and sidle back through the doors, shutting the slow drizzle of rain out as you close the door behind you.

Once you return inside, your thoughts slightly more reordered, you see her back at the table, fiddling idly with the hem of her dress, her cheeks tinted a soft red.

“So?”

“I got her number,” she confesses, barely able to bite back a smile, even as her perfect white teeth graze her lower lip. “She gets off shift in an hour.”

You were right, then.

“That’s nice. She’s hot.”

“I know,” she replies dreamily, “and looks exactly like Shay Mitchell, can you believe it? I fancied her so much when Pretty Little Liars first came out.”

“Yeah, I did too.” you admit quietly, clasping your hands around your fresh whiskey.

“You okay? It’s getting late, we can head off now.”

“Nope, absolutely fine. In fact, I think I’ll have another. Tell me something.”

“But we haven’t talked about you all night, I wanna know how your life is going. Love life too.” she protests.

What, your life with the monotonous job and the zero romantic prospects so you spend all your free time sitting at home reading and the nights with your vibrator and Liz in your head? How the hell are you supposed to tell her that.

You simply shrug, and keep a mask of cold, hard resolve in place. “You know my life. I’m interested in yours. Go on.”

So she does. And you do order another whiskey after your first, to the point where you’re verging on the highest restraints of merely tipsy and if you have another you’re heading fast for straight out drunk, which you shan’t do. But you’re merry, and Liz’s words all sound weird, slurred a little from the alcohol, her Australian accent bending to accommodate the vowel sounds she’s making with the occasional slip of a Polish or French word in there. She gets like this when she’s drinking, and it’s one of her most endearing qualities very few are able to see.

“Your voice sounds really weird,” you chuckle, leaning back in your chair, “you’re talkin’ all funny.”

“No I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Am so not!” She’s persistent, she never did back down easy.

You half heartedly shrug, knocking your glasses into one another on the table. You tug your jacket further around you, and purse your lips readying for battle.

“You know, you really should take it as a compliment that I’ve got drunk and I’m making fun of the way you talk.”

She allows her precisely plucked brows to dance over her face in surprise, though quickly schools her features into a plain mask.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Liz. I’m fine.” you say adamantly, and take another swig from your drink, savouring the tang on your tongue. Your glass makes another thud when you slam it down with unplanned and unnecessary force.

“You see, your mouth says that, but your… mouth is telling me something else?”

Before you can help it, your fingers are clutching the edge of the table, your cheeks heating softly, “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can that be?”

A chill slithers down your skin as her eyes grow wide, her pale skin blanching a shade further. “I didn’t mean, um, what? I—” she breaks off with a cough. “I ju— just meant that, um, you’re… sulking.”

“Oh.”

You can’t ignore the way your stomach plummets into the core of the earth, embarrassment taking over every other rational thought within your mind and body. Your soul is already brittle, but this? Your pride has certainly taken a knock enough for you to down the rest of your whiskey in one gulp.

“I’m gonna take off,” you say at last, across the curious blanket of silence, ignoring the way her angular face—limned with hope—falls a fraction.

“Please stay.”

You don’t think you hear her correctly, if at all. For all you know, her words could just be a whisper in the blustering breeze beating outside, the storm you predicted arriving early. In the dim bar, you’re away from it all, sage, until the bartender gets off shift and snatches Liz away for yet another night.

“Beg pardon?”

“Please stay,” she repeats, louder this time, but her blue eyes don’t meet yours across the table. “Tell me what’s up.”

She’s not backing down, so you brace yourself, allowing brazenness to fill you with courage, allowing your alcohol to eddie around you, summoning the words at long last.

“Nothing…” you say at first, because really, it is nothing, but she cocks her head at you that authoritative way. God, she should be a teacher with her assertive glances. “Just that you‘re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…” you snatch her cup across the table, and take a deep swallow before shrugging and casting your gaze outside to spare yourself the mortification of being rejected. “Sober at least.”

You’re met with a beat of silence, “Why?”

“Look at your face!” you shout, utterly exasperated. You’ve got a good mind to pull a compact mirror to remind her how drop-dead stunning she is. “I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.”

“Why, baby? What way?” she croons.

Too caught up in your momentary lapse of judgement and rant, you fail to notice her edging closer to you, moving your glasses out the way, letting her forearms rest on the sticky table just so she can watch the way you lick your lips with nerves.

“Crazy, because you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts.”

“R—really?” she stammers.

You turn back to her, all thoughts evaporating with her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, driving you insane. Her pretty lips are all parted and awaiting, how much you want to kiss her… So instead, you pout, and begin to throw a strop in your tipsy state.

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she teases, a smirk toying at her mouth, giving her cheeks subtle dimples. “Don’t leave me hanging. “Tell me what you really think. How I make you feel. I wanna hear,” her voice drops to a purr, leaning over the table to husk in your ear, “every little thing.”

“Ok then,” you concede. “You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.”

“I don’t see how,” she snorts, “but continue.”

Her attention never once fails you or turns away, enamoured with your every mere breath.

“You’re gorgeous. Your magnetic field is too strong for me to cope. Your energy draws me in. You’re all I want.”

“More.” she coaxes, a single word, but a whisper, and yet it stokes the embers of desire in the pit of your stomach, your forehead creasing to attempt to draw some concentration back from the depths of your mind where your fantasies about her saying that exact word in that exact breathy way linger.

Perhaps your adulation is excessive, but you don't miss the sparkle in her eyes at each compliment you dole. This is your final card, though, and you’re going to play it right, so you forget about the consequences of touching her hand in a darkness room, and simply intertwine your fingers, drawing your noses to meet over the table.

“You've ruined my life, by not being mine,” you profess, ensuring that your hot breath fans over her lips. You can feel her shudder. “And you know there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.”

“I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

And just like that, the world stops turning around you. Your heart lilts, your mind prattles on about all you want to say, all you want to do. But then it stops. And all of a sudden, you’re intrepid, desperate to ravish her and ruin her for all other women, eager to kiss her voraciously until you can scarcely breathe, yearning to feel her words of reassurance wrap around you, if only she agrees to your proposal over that of the hot bartender.

“Well, I’ve told you what's up, so I guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats. Alone... unless you wanna come along.”

You push away from the table and stand with a slight shrug, turning your back on her, making strides for the door and the storm bristling outside. Only, you barely make it to the door before Liz’s slender hand is wrapped around your arm, and is turning you back to her, tugging you closer, chest to chest, nose to nose.

“Fuck yes, księżniczka. After that, of course I’m coming.”

Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, a desperate battle of will, and her tongue slides over the seam of your lips. You grant her entry with an open mouth, heat skittering over your skin as she holds you tighter, closer, with a deeper urgency you don’t hesitate to match.

Her crystal eyes simmer as she withdraws, her forehead on yours. Her lips brush yours as she breathes, and she grabs your hand, heading out into the night with Liz, at long last.

“For the record, you’re gorgeous and perfect and drive me crazy too. Everything you said tonight, I echo. What can I say?”

You’re gorgeous.

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adenei · 4 years ago

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Finding My Way To You - Ch. 11

AO3 || FFN

A/N: In case something looks familiar to you, yes this does include the Day 8 prompt in this chapter with a few slight alterations to fit the rest of the chapter more accurately.

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New Endeavors

Ron woke up the following morning to Hermione’s alarm going off. He reached over to her in an attempt to coerce her into having a longer lie-in, but he pulled back when he heard her squeal.

“No, no, no, no, I’m late! This is not good!” she said frantically. She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

As much as he didn’t want to see her get moving, he could certainly get used to the sight of her walking around in just her knickers and one of his shirts. Ron closed his eyes as he heard the shower turn on and replayed the night before. After they had cleared the air and spent the rest of the afternoon exploring their new relationship, they’d gone to dinner with her parents.

Hermione had suggested she spend the day with them today, and Ron was fine with it. He knew it was important to her to reconnect, and some of that needed to be done with just the three of them. So that’s where Hermione was getting ready to head now. He heard the door open and Hermione came out wrapped only in a towel.

“I forgot to grab clothes,” she said in frustration with herself. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Not if you keep walking around in just a towel, I won’t be,” Ron said. “Are you sure you can’t come back here for a little bit?” He knew she was referring to her leaving him alone all day, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try and get a little extra time with her first.

Hermione had gathered her outfit in her arms and turned around to give him a look. “I’d love to, but I’m already late. And we both know if I crawl back in bed, I may not have the resolve to get up again.” She walked back into the bathroom. “What are you going to do all day?”

“I dunno. I’ll think of something. Don’t worry about me. Have fun with your parents.”

Hermione came out of the bathroom again and walked over to the edge of the bed. “I just feel bad.”

Ron sat up and swung his legs over the side to meet her. “Don’t. You need this time with them. That’s why we came. I’ll find something to do, and I’ll see you later tonight. Just...keep me updated, okay?” Slight worry etched across his face. He knew he was on good terms with her parents, but he still worried that she might not return.

She must have noticed his concern because she leaned over and kissed him. “I will. I’ll see you tonight.” Ron nodded as he watched her grab her bag and head out the door. He laid in bed a while longer before finally getting up.

After getting ready for the day and finishing his breakfast, Ron made his way to to look through some of the brochures from the Australian Ministry. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the phone on the wall ring. At first he wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like he answered telephones often. He reminded himself not to shout into the receiver like that awful attempt at calling Harry when he was younger.

He picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”

“Hello, Ron? Is that you? This is Graham. Graham Jacobsen. I showed you to your flat when you first arrived.”

Ron had honestly completely forgotten all about the man. Now that he thought about it, they probably should have updated the Australian Ministry days ago. “Er, yes, hi. Is everything alright?” Ron asked.

“Yes, yes, of course! I’m just checking in to see how your search has been going and if you need any assistance!”

“It’s been great, actually. We’ve managed to locate Hermione’s parents, fairly quickly actually, and she’s been spending the last few days getting reacquainted with them.”

“Excellent, excellent! So the resources the Ministry sent over with the muggle teeth cleaners and addresses of Wilkin’s in the surrounding area were no doubt helpful, then?”

“Er, yeah,” Ron said. He wasn’t about to tell Graham that they’d actually stumbled upon Jean and Hugo by accident.

“Great. So anyways, like I said, I was asked to get an update. Since you’ve located them, we were wondering how much longer you were anticipating to stay.”

“I’m not sure. I can talk to Hermione and see if we can get a clearer answer for you tomorrow or the day after if that’s okay.”

“Yes, sure! No rush. It will just help to have an idea to prepare your portkey trip back. Let’s see, let’s see, oh yes! One more thing. You received a letter here from England through the Portkey Post. Wouldn’t want to make owls travel all this way. If you’re available, you can come pick it up at the Ministry anytime.”

A letter? Is everything alright back home? “Sure, yeah, I can actually be down there in fifteen minutes.”

“Excellent, I’ll meet you in the entrance hall. See you in a jif!” Graham said before hanging up.

Ron hung up the phone and immediately began moving around the apartment to grab his things. He figured he could spend a few hours walking around and seeing what else Melbourne had to offer from the magical side of things. Before he knew it, he was apparating to the spot Graham showed them almost a week ago, and walked the short distance to the Ministry entrance.

He had barely stepped a few paces inside when he saw Graham waving frantically. “Ron! Over here!” They met in the middle as Graham said, “So good to see you again! I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay here so far.”

“Yeah, it’s been great,” Ron agreed.

“Here’s the letter that came for you. If you want to send a response, we send our international post out at 13:00 every day. The drop box is over here.”

Ron followed him over to the box that had a small slot in it. He was curious how this system worked. Whether it was his lack of knowledge about other cultures and customs or not, he always assumed the owls just traveled the distance to their destination. Though, for a continent like Australia that was so far away from other places, he supposed this system made sense. It’d be hard for an owl to travel over an ocean with no resting points.

“Thanks.”

“Absolutely. Well, I must be getting back to my obligations. Like I said, feel free to call if you ever need anything. Just press 9 on your dial pad and it will transfer your call to my office. A little magical touch so you don’t have to memorize a ten digit number. I look forward to hearing from you!”

Graham shook Ron’s hand before walking away. Ron looked at the letter in his hand. He didn’t want to return to the flat just to read it, so he decided to walk around a bit to find a place to sit and read what it said. There was a small park a few blocks away that Ron stumbled upon. He chose one of the vacant benches and sat down. The handwriting looked like Harry’s.

Hey Ron,

I hope you and Hermione are having luck finding her parents. It’s odd here without you two, but I’ve been keeping busy. Listen, I’m not trying to rush the process, but I wanted you to know that I met with Kingsley yesterday, and he said they’re looking for recruits in the Auror program. The other letter that I sent with this is from him. He’s inviting us into the program if we want. I think I’m going to go for it. We have to complete the screening process by the end of the month, so I’m hoping you’ll be back by then to start with me if that’s what you want to do. By the way, are you and Hermione sorted yet? Ginny wants to know. Well, anyways, let me know when you decide.

Harry

Ron reread Harry’s letter a few times before pulling out the second piece of parchment that he now knew to be from Kingsley. Was this actually an invitation to join the Aurors? Would he be able to achieve his dream? Did he still want to pursue that dream? He slowly peeled off the wax seal and unfolded the official Ministry parchment.

Mr. Weasley,

I hope this finds you well and that you are having success on your current mission. I am reaching out to you to personally invite you to join the Aurors. As you know, we are woefully understaffed as a result of the war, and your integral efforts make you a prime candidate for the program. Typically, the training period is an extensive three years, but given your experiences, you will have an opportunity to pass out of the training program after a year, and be promoted to Junior Auror status.

I understand that you are predisposed on a mission, but this offer is time sensitive. The Auror department has agreed to honor this offer for select people, yourself included, but they are requiring all candidates to begin on 3 August. Paperwork and a screening, however, must be completed by 1 July. I have attached the preliminary paperwork for you to set up your appointments with the Ministry, and they will be in touch should you be interested in pursuing this avenue.

Please take the time to think about this, but do not wait too long to reply. The Aurors will be lucky to have someone with your skillset in the department. Best of luck on your continued search. All my best,

Kingsley

Ron’s hands were shaking slightly at the letter. He had a personal invitation from the Minister of Magic to join the Aurors. His finger followed the application that he looked over. It seemed straightforward enough, and the prospect was certainly appealing. He knew deep down that he absolutely wanted to try, but something was preventing him from returning to the Australian Ministry to fill out the paperwork and send it back that same day.

Ron thought it through to make sure he’d have enough time to discuss with Hermione first. He reviewed the application, and it said he could return his paperwork from Australia, and it said that he could request a timeframe for his appointment. That was good. Maybe he could return next week, but his heart wrenched at the thought of having to leave Hermione here. Ron folded the contents of the two letters and tucked them in his jacket pocket for safekeeping.

He looked around the park, thinking about what to do next. It was a beautiful, crisp day, just like every other day had been since they’d arrived, even if it was colder. He smiled, thinking Hermione would be cold, but he was perfectly comfortable. The weather here differed so greatly from the weather in England, and Ron was slightly envious of how nice it seemed to be year round.

He finally decided to walk around. This part of Melbourne wasn’t as familiar to him, but Ron figured he could always apparate back to the flat if need be. A smile spread across his lips as he stood up and began walking back towards the Ministry. He’d gone from not knowing what life had in store for him now that the war was over to having a career prospect. Nothing could break his mood as he looked around at the places to explore.

About an hour later, Ron found himself wandering aimlessly around Melbourne’s streets. He’d gone in several of the shops that interested him along the way, and had just finished up a light meal he’d gotten at a cafe. The food was great, and he wished Hermione had been there to. He told her he was fine with today’s plan, but he still missed her. They’d been spending so much time together that it felt odd to be apart from her, even if it was just for the day. Even when her mum had whisked her away to shop, he still knew exactly when he’d see her next.

As he made his way down another new street, Ron stopped outside the window of a unique looking jewelry shop. He knew it was still early in their relationship, but he walked inside anyways to see what the display cases held. Most everything would probably be out of his price range, but maybe he’d gather an idea or two for Hermione.

“Good afternoon,” a bright and energetic salesperson said to him.

“Hello,” Ron said.

“Is there anything I can help you find today?”

“Oh, er, not really. Just looking,” his ears turned red.

“Not a problem at all! I’ll be around if you need anything,” she smiled and went back to her work.

As he walked around slowly, browsing the selection, he was appreciative that there seemed to be a wide variety of items and price ranges. Ron avoided the section with the rings. It was way too early for that, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up with wishful thinking. So, he found his way over to the earrings, which he was pretty sure she never wore often, though he was certain her ears were pierced, and then the necklaces. He shuddered at the recollection of Lavender giving him that horrifying ‘sweetheart locket’ back in sixth year, and swore to himself that he wouldn’t get anything like that for Hermione.

Once he’d finished circling the perimeter of glass cases, he moved to the center displays, which appeared to be bracelets. There was a small display among them that had a variety of blank bracelets and little pieces scattered all around.

Ron looked around and caught the salesperson’s attention. “Find something I can help you with?”

“Er, yes. What are these?” Ron asked her.

“Oh! Great question. These are charm bracelets! Are you familiar with them?” she asked kindly.

“No, not really,” Ron admitted.

“No matter! You see, you pick out a bracelet first, though I’m sure you would have gathered that, and then you have all of these amazing charms to choose from. We have hundreds of them on this display for you to choose from.”

“So, the charms are like symbols, then?” Ron asked for clarification.

“Precisely! They are becoming increasingly popular.”

Ron nodded as an idea was forming in his mind. He was unable to get anything for Hermione’s last birthday, and Christmas for that matter. Maybe this could be the way to make it up to her. “How much?”

“The bracelets are 50 dollars, and then the charms range anywhere between 15 and 50 depending on what you’re looking for.”

Ron thought about what the salesperson said as he felt the wallet in his pocket. Bill and George had both given him money before he’d left. He was determined not to use it unless he had to, since he felt guilty that he was taking it to begin with. Maybe he’d splurge a bit, and when they got back to England, he’d take up a part-time job at the shop with George in order to pay him back, and then earn a little spending money of his own.

In truth, he was about to use it to pay for their posh dinner the other night, but Hermione had insisted she use her parent’s card. He’d need to make it up to them, too, at some point. Focus, Ron. Okay, I could get her the bracelet, and a few charms. No more than five. He knew if he didn’t set a limit, he’d blow all his money on this one gift.

“Okay, I’d like the silver bracelet, I think. Is there a list of charms, or will I need to look through all these individually?” Not that he minded, since he had nowhere else to be today.

“We have a list right here!” There was a stack of laminated papers that she grabbed one from and handed to him. “When you’ve decided what you’d like, I can take them out for you and we can put them on the bracelet at the register.”

“Great, thanks!” Ron said as he began to work his way through the list.

She wasn’t kidding when she said there were hundreds. They were broken down into categories on the double sided sheet. He knew he definitely wanted to get her the book charm. That was without a doubt. He saw that there was also a heart with roses engraved in it. It looked fancier than the other charms, but he figured he could splurge a bit on it since it held a special meaning for them both.

As his eyes skimmed the list he noticed an assortment of animals. I wonder…, he thought. He saw there was definitely a dog, which he wasn’t surprised by, but he was even more pleased to see that there was an otter charm! “Well, they are quite cute,” he muttered to himself.

Four charms down, one more. He initially looked for an elf, but didn’t have any luck there. He wasn’t surprised, and he worried that even if he saw one, it’d be one of those Christmas looking ones. Giving up on that, Ron ended up finding a seashell charm which instantly brought him back to Shell Cottage. That was no doubt the turning point in their relationship, and it also represented the place where Dobby was buried. It could definitely serve a double meaning, for sure.

He brought the paper up to the counter and told the kind salesperson his choices, watching as she bustled around to collect everything. She rang the items up, and Ron pulled out his wallet to pay for the items. He carefully tucked the receipt away so he could keep track of his purchases.

“Would you like this wrapped up in a gift bag?” she asked him.

“Yes, please,” he said, glad to have her assistance.

He asked if the charms could be arranged the following way on the bracelet: book, otter, terrier, seashell, and heart. It represented the chronological order of the charm’s meanings to their relationship. The salesperson finished wrapping up the bracelet and handed him the gift bag when she was finished. “Thank you so much for your business, and best of luck. I’m sure your special someone is going to love this!”

“Thanks for your help,” Ron said as he exited the shop.

He figured he should probably head back before he spent any more money that day. Ron could watch the telly, and there was enough food for him to make something at the flat. There was an alley nearby that he decided to turn into, so he could apparate back to the flat. Better to be safe than sorry, since he really had no idea where he was. He turned on the spot and appeared at the apparition point nearby. He approached the building, typed in the code and let himself into the foyer.

When he made it up the stairs, he unlocked the door and walked into the main living area, just as a silvery ball floated toward him. At first, his heart constricted and he immediately became on edge. He was even more worried for Hermione’s safety when the ball transformed into Hermione’s otter patronus.

A moment later he could hear Hermione’s nervous voice. “Hi! I hope this works. It’s the first time I’ve tried to send a patronus message. Anyways, I’m having dinner with my parents and will be back after. Most likely between seven and eight. I hope you don’t mind. See you soon.”

The silver otter pranced over to him and moved in a figure eight pattern around his legs before nuzzling him and disappearing into a wisp. Ron couldn’t help but smile with pride. Hermione was okay, and she’d produced her first corporeal patronus complete with a message. He checked his watch as he set the bag down on the table. Only a few hours until he could see her again.

#ROMIONE #ron x hermione #romione fanfiction #hp australia

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hobotalesaus · 4 years ago

Text

Episode 3: A Hesitating Pulse Is Good Company

I still remember the first time I came to Melbourne; I was about 18. Everything was foreign and weird and busy and sunny. ‘People are strange, when you're a stranger. Faces look ugly, when you're alone.’ I ended up in Collingwood, another planet to me back then. I found solace in a corner pub. The porch light was on and it was the closest thing to home as I could find.

Living in the big smoke isn't for everyone, but certain people just fucking thrive. Jay is one of those people. Totally sober in the spot he lives, figuratively speaking. When I first met the bloke, he showed me through his place in his moccasins (yeah I remember mate) and pointed out different pieces of art, memorabilia, just stuff. The stuff that we fill our spaces with because we love looking at it and it's a puzzle of what makes us, ‘us’. This was the shit that he loves and you could see it straight away. Outside, there was this faint buzz of the city, with a heartbeat and tyre noise and the smell of god knows what. Maybe a police siren or some shit. It reminded me of a song, with the line "A hesitating pulse is good company". If I was to sum up Collingwood, especially in that house on that day, it would be with that line. "A hesitating pulse is good company".

Firstly, Jay is a bloody good bloke. My old man would always tell me the best way to approach somebody is like this: If you think you're a good fella, I do too, until you prove me wrong. Something tells me that Jay hasn't proven anyone wrong.

Knowing this about him, we approached Jay recently about doing a story and he was more than happy to go with it, which actually sort of posed a problem; he's got so many fucking things on the go, and is equally good at all of them, that we were hard pressed to make room for it all. But we'll give it a red hot crack anyway.

Born in the early 90s, Jay spent most of his time as a young fella riding BMX like most of us did. Outside til dark, jumping kerbs, ruining your shoes by putting them in between the forks and the front tyre. Yeah we all did it. "How do you keep ruining your shoes so quickly??" the words rang out across the house and you knew you were about to get whooped. Street Sharks on the telly, poster of Matt Hoffman on the bedroom wall. How good was that? Then the natural transition (as if that isn't the best fucking pun I've ever heard) to skateboarding. "The first skate video I ever saw was a FLIP SORRY part. That got me so pumped up to go skate, the whole soundtrack and attitude was surreal! Skateboarding basically consumed my life from then all the way up til now," he says, and yeah, it fucking shows. "I tell you what, I had a few Margera decks growing up. But Geoff Rowley stood out for me, and still influences me for sure, even to this day."

There's always been this weird connection between skating and motorcycles; we're not talking your $40,000 BMW touring bike or your Hyabusa. We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look. "I got into motorcycles when I was about 21 or 22, after a trip to the US. All I'd ever wanted to do was go to the U.S and skate all the spots I'd seen in the videos. I had organized with a friend from Geroa (check a map) to head over; his old lady owned a condo in Oceanside, Cali. They were kind enough to invite me over to stay."

“We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look”

"I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay.”

"So there we are at a skate park in California, and a mate of Ray's rolled up on this bad-ass cone Shovel chopper that he built himself. I didn't grow up around parents or a cool uncle who rode motorcycles, so when I was confronted with this dirty, leaky machine, I was fascinated. No foot pegs, looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the 80s. We were in the car on highway, watching him haul ass, weaving in and out of lanes, skateboard strapped to the sissy bar. That was it for me" he says, and you know that you had the same moment at some point in your life where you went "Yep, that's what I'm all about". He continues, "I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay. Turned out the mechanism to eject the film was broken so I lost it all. Still have the memories though. I came home to Australia and maybe a month later I went and bought a 2016 Sporty 48; because what the fuck do I know about building old motorcycles?" But who the fuck cares what it is right, as long as it's not a street bike.

This leads us into another jack of all trades moment with Jay; photography. "Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes.", which is pretty much enough to sum it up. "I'm stoked with a whole bunch of photos I've taken, and that's all that fuckin' matters." Too right bloke.

"Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes."

"Sometimes I paint, sometimes I get angsty sitting there for long periods of time trying to figure out colour blending and all the rest. I did the Knucklehead painting and that's pretty much where that ends." I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room. It's a wicked, dusty, rusty painting that tells you that the motor is as old as sin. Just how we like it. "I can't draw to save my life, but I spent what felt like 3 months working on it here and there." That led us to a pretty significant point in the story, with what I guess I'm trying to capture with these interviews. "Expressing yourself is a great way to be heard; you can tell a story through an action, a photo, a drawing..whatever. And without self expression, the world is a pretty boring place."

“I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room”

So, as far as the nitty gritty, I think a lot of us have seen Jay's scoot by now. That 48 Sporty we mentioned earlier was written off "trying to pull a wheelie leaving work", which is a pretty standard outcome I reckon. So the white beast is a 72 Sporty, which was stripped down and and built back up by David at Primal Garage, with some work being done by Sean at Bar-None Moto. He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed. He also lifted the tank a little, modified the seat pan that Sean made, fit a new rear fender so it tucked nicely around the tire. He also freshened up the bike by re-painting the tins pearl white, with champagne stripes fading to silver. He also chucked the Leviathan cross on the tank at my request. He finished it all off with a set of bad ass up sweeps! Sean smashed out new bars, sissybar, license plate/ brake light bracket, and gave Dave a good start on the king/queen seat pan. Now I have a sweet ass looking bike that I’ve barely ridden this year. Covid has been a struggle", he says, and those of you in Victoria can attest to the fact that this year has been a total write off. Not being able to get out, hit some pubs, roll the swag out beside the bike and sleep in the dirt; that's our lockdown. "I’ve gone damn near everywhere on that bike, I love it to bits!"

“He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed.”

There aren’t too many ways to describe riding a motorcycle to somebody who hasn't done it. And there's a difference again between riding in total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike. I'm talking about being stripped down of all fancy equipment, burning your legs, can't hear anything, welts on your face, hot, cold, numb fingers, sore arse, no fuel left, phone is dead, you're still 50kms from where you think the camp spot is but you know what? You could keep riding for another 1000kms because fuck me, this is what it's about.

“..total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike.”

The smell of a campfire, the taste of a bug on your teeth, the spine shattering crack from a pothole on your hardtail, losing your house keys somewhere in the last 2 days riding, unpeeling yourself from the bike and finally being able to stretch your hips as the locals stare. "Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years." says Jay, as I think we all for a moment realize that from now on, whenever anyone asks "Hey, lets skip town for a night on the bikes", you're going to say yes regardless, for fear of never being able to do it again.

"Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years."

If our readers are anything like us, and I think they are, living in the city is doable if there's an escape in between the chaos. "Pre-Covid, my girlfriend (Asti) and our dog (Luna) and I would head up into the mountains every other weekend. Find a cool spot to park and just walk around for awhile, explore. We could let Luna off lead and she loved it. I like shooting photos in the forest. Nature is the best".

"Camping holds a special place in my heart. I love the smell of a campfire, endless banter between mates, NO RECEPTION. Not showering for awhile is also a guilty pleasure. We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers". I'll be honest, as long as there's water near by, that's good enough for me. Winter or not. Which reminds me, little tip for painting the town brown in the bush; dig two little holes for your heels, stick a log or the shovel in the ground, hang onto it and lean back. Opens up the bowels. (You'll thank me I reckon).

’’We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers"

Everyone has a favorite camping story. I think as time has gone on, they don’t stand out as much as they used to, they're all great. Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me.

"My favorite camp spot was something not easily forgotten. My girlfriend and I tripped out to Wilson’s Promontory one weekend. We paid to spend the night in the camp site which was basically a grass car park with no fires allowed and we decided that it just wouldn’t fly with us. We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way. We eventually decided to veer off the trail, and head down through the shrub toward the ocean. We ended up finding the most insane spot! On top of a cliff, a nice flat piece of land on some moss covered rocks. Looking over the ocean. We were even graced with a sunset, right over the water, directly in front of us. Romantic as fuck, it was amazing. Golden hour blew us away. Not a single person in sight, but us. We got a little fire going and just marveled at what we found and where we were. That was the best camp spot for sure. If it were possible to accompany that with motorcycles, shit. I could have died right there and then."

‘’Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me’’

“We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way.”

I reckon that's a pretty good image to leave this story on. I think there's something special about people who can find solace in nothing, in no-one, just being content with what's happening at that moment in time. A sunset, setting off a car alarm with your pipes, burning away from a servo with a full tank of fuel. The big picture is made up of a million little pictures.

We always ask people what their life motto is; what they stand by. Jay gave us this. "Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is.”

Thanks bloke, it's been a time and a half. First beer is on me once the wall comes down.

"Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is."

All photos by Jay except for top photo by Sean (Bar-None Moto).

#harley davidson #photography #camping #motorcycles #choppers #skateboard #skating

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rkrose · 4 years ago

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“i’ve been trying all my life to separate the time, in between the having it all and giving it up, yeah. i wonder what’s in store if i don’t love it anymore. i’m stuck between the having it all and giving it up, yeah” ━━ august 5th, 2020 . . . phone call with alice park ( big sister )

it’s been eight years. eight years since rose moved from her family’s home nestled in the suburbs of melbourne, away from her parents and her siblings to the big smoke of seoul, south korea. a country that was thousands of miles away. who knew that at age fifteen a girl could be so driven, so determined to pursue a dream? this dream of becoming a musician took rose across a whole ocean to a country she had never been to before. time had been kind, things had gotten easier. the early days were the hardest. rose’s lack of knowledge on basic customs expected of almost any korean to her clumsiness regarding the korean language and the honorifics that went with it. she recounts her first year as being vacant and lonely, and those feelings even followed her into her second year. no one reached out, and rose didn’t reach out either. it was easier to keep any and everyone at arms length. she wanted to do this by herself. she didn’t want to be a burden.

favouring hours alone playing guitar and piano, singing seventies and eighties songs she had heard on the radio back home. and when tucked away in her bed at her home stay’s apartment on the outskirts of the city, rose would call her big sister and tell her about her day. a part of her felt inclined to lie, to say that she was happy. but she wasn’t and alice . . . alice could tell. alice was off at university at this point, a first year, studying law. charlie was studying medicine and rose was . . . in south korea, at a music school. so she could pursue . . music. rose always had it a little easier in comparison to her older siblings. her father hadn’t been super enthusiastic to find out that she had applied to this music orientated school across the ocean in his place of birth, but her mom had been supportive. she saw that her daughter had a dream, so she wanted her to go and pursue it, even if meant sending her youngest to a foreign country.

favouring hours alone playing guitar or piano, singing old songs that she remembers hearing on the radio from back home. and when tucked away in the bedroom of her home stay’s apartment, located on the outskirts of the city, rose would call her big sister and try to tell her about her day, about her adventures. rose felt inclined to lie, to say that she was happy. but she wasn’t and alice could tell. she was off at university at this point, first year, studying law while their older brother studied medicine. meanwhile rose was in south korea at a music school so that she could maybe attempt to pursue music. her intentions hadn’t been to stay in south korea permanently. initially, it was her three years of high school and then maybe if things went well, a year of university. but a year after graduating and having flopped completely academic wise, and no real drive or pull to go back home to australia, rose had found herself in one of south korea’s biggest entertainment companies come winter of 2016. this was where she paved her dream, even if it wasn’t the way she had visualised it. everyone had to start somewhere, or so she figures.

rose had always had it a little easier in comparison to alice and charlie. being the youngest was probably the reason, she was used to being babied and being the favourite. her father, a branch manager of a bank chain in melbourne, had been rather disheartened to discover she had gone and applied to sopa, behind his back more or less. rose’s mother, a psychiatrist, had been much more supportive. she had saw from a young age what her daughter’s true passion was, in efforts to help rose pursue a dream she had found early on. she sent rose on her way, with no certainty of what this meant for her. and even eight years later and rose not returning as she had planned, her mother still feels the same way. uncertain but immensely proud. and even now, her dad’s a little proud too, even if he doesn’t get the whole singing dancing idol thing.

eight years on, late night phone calls still occur between rose and alice. only they’re not as often and rose lives in an apartment with her two bestfriends. rose finds herself stumbling into bed on most nights after training; life is physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting these days and the thought of talking to anyone, even alice, sounded unbearable at times. but rose always does her best to make time for the important people in her life. tonight, rose is tucked away in her bed with her long blonde hair in braids. she wears an oversized sweatshirt which rose actually thinks might belong to her boyfriend. rose stares up at the ceiling overhead with eight years of lies and it’s weight resting on her chest. the line is quiet. “something up, rosie? you don’t sound too good.” alice asks down the phone, and although chipper, she sounds concerned. “ah, it’s nothing. don’t worry, ali.” rose says, waving off her concern with a laugh. “well . . . nothing is something. what’s going on? you’re alright, aren’t you?” rose purses her lips, a clutched hand rests on her chest. would it be so awful to verbalise her feelings, what she’s felt for the past four or so years?

“i’m thinking . . . about . . . i’m thinking about moving back to australia.” rose says slowly, softly, in hopes she doesn’t draw attention. lisa and jisoo are home, and although one of two knows, she doesn’t wanna talk to them about that now. “y-you’re what? no. what? what happened?" alice’s reaction was as rose had thought: genuine surprise, shock and perhaps a little bit of disbelief. very alice. “you didn’t break up with chris, did you? i thought you were still at royal.” the mention of chris was enough to remind rose of her first real argument with her boyfriend ( of almost two years now ). “no, no. we’re still together and i’m still . . . at royal. my contract ends in december, though. i meant . . . instead of signing it again, i could just . . . come home, and be with you and charlie, and mel and charlotte, and mom . . . dad too, i guess.”

the line goes quiet again. alice must be trying to wrap her head around the suddenness of the topic. “ali, y-you there?” rose asks, pushing herself up onto her elbows. she furrows her brows. had she said something wrong? “what brought this on all of a sudden, rosie? last time we spoke you seemed so . . . so happy and certain of everything. are you okay? is there . . . something else going on?” last time they spoke. the last time rose and alice spoke was months ago. rose was still coming to terms with what this all meant, what feeling this way meant. “no,” rose mutters quietly, shaking her head. “i . . . i just . . . “ and so she starts from the beginning, all the way back when rose first landed on the tarmac in seoul, south korea as a bright eyed fifteen year old.

"i wish you had of just been honest with me, rose. about everything.” alice admits quietly. rose wishes she could of been honest from the beginning too, but thinking about the consequences of her honesty frightened her. the lies hadn’t been any better, though. “i was scared you’d tell mom and that she would force me to come home.” having to give up her dream though honesty, to be defeated because of her own feelings had been a fear of rose’s at that age. it still rings true now to some extent. trainees shouldn’t show their weaknesses, they become easy targets in the eyes of their company. “mom always wanted what’s best for you, as she does now. and charlie does, and dad . . . in his own, weird way. and i want what’s best for you.” rose bites at her lip, trying to hold the tears that well at her eye at bay. “and if you think that coming back home to australia is what that is, then so be it. but i don’t think that’s what you really want.”

i am so passionate about singing and performing. nothing makes me feel more whole than when i sing, i truly feel alive . . . as cliche as it sounds. and i was shy, so i hid behind my guitar and my company forced me to step forward and become this . . . this person. after all this time i came to love dancing, i’m actually somewhat good at it although coaches disagree. but . . . i realise that even though my dream was to debut in a band, in reality, an idol group was what i was destined for. and these past three years i’ve worked so hard, tirelessly, so i can one day debut with my friends. i’ve cried so much these past few months. i’m so tired, ali. i feel so up and down about my future. am i selfish for thinking about myself? is it selfish to stay in the company when a much better person could be in my place? i’ve never wanted something more in my life than this. i can’t believe i’m admitting that. i, roseanne park, want to be an idol. i want to debut so badly but the stagnancy makes me nauseous. is four years going to turn to six years, and will six turn to eight? i see these young idols train for a year and then debut the following year. am i not good enough? am i doing something wrong? and the fact that you all are so far away makes me wonder if all of this is worth it. i just . . . i want to go home. i mean, i think i do.

"you’re growing restless, rosie.” alice concludes rather firmly. here was the tough love rose had avoided hearing but needed, so badly. “but don’t give up on your dream because you’re restless or because you’re tired.” and by this point, the tears are running down rose’s cheeks, they’re red and warm. she wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. alice pauses and rose swears that she hears a sniffle on the other end of the line. “i know you’ve been lying to me all of these years, telling me how happy you were and how you loved korea. i know that things must of been so tough for you, rosie . . . and yet you stuck it out because you didn’t wanna disappoint mom . . or me, or charlie. that’s so . . . so you.” alice chuckles and rose mirrors, sniffling. she was right, after all. rose was too afraid of admitting that she had maybe made a mistake in going to korea so young, but she was still too prideful to give up. “you’re so stubborn, roseanne. you’ll try and make anything work.”

“and it’s because you’re so stubborn . . . that you should make this work. make this crazy, once in a life time opportunity work out, just follow it through.” rose picks at a stray thread on her pyjama pants, still listening intently to alice, hanging onto every word. “because i think . . . that if you do end up coming home, and not signing that contract again, that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” there’s another pause. “and people like you rosie, people like you need to be where they can shine. and if you can’t do this for you, then do it for me. do it for mom, and charlie and dad. do it because we believe in you and love you more than anything.” there’s more sniffles between both sisters. rose hasn’t shared a moment like this with her sister in . . . forever, perhaps ever. she’s been reminded of how she’d put on a brave face whenever duty called. “i don’t want you to give up on this dream, rosie. just keep holding on. everything will make sense soon. i know it will.”

to be continued . . .

#♡ ╎ solo ;#( this is a very long and overdue solo )#( not as eloquent as i would of liked but it's 12am and i have other replies to do )#( but this . . . this is how rose is feeling and has been feeling for the past . . . year? )

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doctoraliceharvey · 6 years ago

Note

request for ‘malice; different types of kisses’. i’m not fussed what sort of kisses are included, thank you!

I set these in the same universe as Felled by You, Held by You and Like Thunder Under Earth, and part of the “missing scenes” between the two, so while I will be publishing these snippets here on tumblr, you likely won’t see them on AO3 or FFN until I’ve written the other missing scenes in full! Thank you so much for the prompt! - Dee

—

Comforting Kiss - post 3.05

Matthew quietly closed Alice’s front door behind him. The house was dark for the middle of the day, and silent - if he hadn’t spoken to Alice earlier and if her car wasn’t in the drive, Matthew would have assumed she was out. Toeing out of his shoes, he crept through the house - beating a familiar path to her bedroom.

He made out the shape of her under her covers in the darkened room and tiptoed to her side. Kneeling beside the bed, Matthew softly tucked a stray curl behind Alice’s ear - smiling gently when she stirred.

“Hey there,” he whispered.

“Matthew?” Alice rubbed at her eyes, her voice rough with sleep. “I thought you’re supposed to be in Melbourne.”

“I am,” he nodded, “but you sounded odd over the phone… so I came to check up on you.”

Alice propped herself up on her elbow - a furrow of confusion between her brows and her eyes still bleary. “You… you drove all the way here… just to see how I was?”

“Yeah,” Matthew shrugged with a small smile.

Alice cupped his cheek with a shaking hand and he could hear her holding back tears in her voice when she spoke.

“I… thank you.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Would you… would you stay, please?”

Pressing another kiss to her forehead, Matthew cradled her face in his hands - thumbs wiping her tears as they fell. “Yeah, I can stay.”

She watched him silently as he quickly stripped down to his shorts and slid into bed behind her. Pulling his arm tight around her waist, Alice let out a shuddering - yet relieved - sigh.

“Who told you what happened?” Alice finally asked - relaxing into his comforting warmth.

Matthew kissed the back of her shoulder, “Jean did. I called Blake to see if he knew what happened and she answered.”

“So… she knows about us.”

“Yeah, she figured it out, sweetheart. Are you okay with that?”

Alice sighed and turned in his arms, “I think so.”

“Don’t worry, I had her promise not to tell Lucien.”

Her body shook with silent laughter and Matthew smiled. He took in the darkening bruises on her throat and smoothed his hands up and down her back.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Alice’s lower lip trembled and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I was… scared, Matthew. It- I’d been in that kind of situation before, but this… this scared me.”

Matthew pressed a kiss to her forehead as more tears fell from those beautiful blue-grey eyes he loved. He soothed her as she wept in his arms - finally letting it all out now that it was just the two of them.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here,” Matthew tipped her chin up and brushed his lips against hers. Alice clung to him and deepened the kiss - seeking the comfort he brought her and melting into his arms. Her fingers dug into his back as she pressed her body against his - not leaving the tiniest sliver of space between them; Matthew obliged her - hoisting her leg up over his hip to pull her even closer as they traded kisses (hers tearful, his warm and gentle).

“Promise me.”

“Anything,” he whispered.

“Promise me, Matthew, that I’ll always feel safe with you.”

“I promise.” Matthew kissed her - once, twice - and held her close. “I promise, Alice.”

—

Interrupted Kiss - post Like Thunder Under Earth

Matthew fell back on Alice’s bed with a laugh. She crawled onto his lap - his hands immediately landing on her hips as she kissed him. Trailing his lips down her neck, Matthew sucked at her pulse point until she gasped and pulled at his hair.

Their days off finally coincided and both planned on spending the rare long weekend together - only venturing forth from Alice’s home if they absolutely had to; Jean knew where to reach Matthew if he was needed for a case.

“I missed you,” he whispered against her neck - his hands lifting the skirt of her nightgown higher with each kiss to her skin.

Alice laughed as she leaned into him, “You see me almost everyday, Matthew.”

“Yeah, but I can’t do this when we’re working together,” he nipped at the tendons of her throat, soothing them with his tongue as Alice gasped.

“That didn’t stop you in the morgue last week.”

Matthew rolled them on the bed so she lay beneath him - Alice sighing into the kiss as he pressed her into the mattress. He hitched one of her legs higher on his hip as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I couldn’t help it,” he kissed her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. “You looked very kissable last week.”

“Just last week?”

She squealed when he tickled her sides and Matthew chuckled in her ear as he kept her pinned beneath him. Alice squirmed even as she laughed - she loved moments like this with Matthew, they were few and far between these days with Munro breathing down their necks.

Pulling him down for another kiss, Alice barely brushed his lips when someone knocked on her front door. They froze - wondering if the intruder would just go away. But when they knocked again, Alice let out a frustrated sigh as Matthew rested his forehead against hers.

“The sooner you go deal with it, sweetheart, the sooner we can get back to this.”

“I’m going to kill them,” she muttered darkly.

Matthew sat up with a bark of a laugh, “Is that something you want to admit in front of a policeman?”

“Why do you think I’m sleeping with a policeman?” Alice teased as she got up from the bed. “Let me go see who it is.”

“Alice!” He called out and followed her as she stalked from the room - in only her nightgown. When she whirled around, Matthew held up the robe and barely managed to conceal his smirk as she felt her cheeks grow warm.

Snatching the robe from his hands (and feeling her ears burn), Alice quickly pulled it on and tightly tied it close before answering the door.

“Someone better be dead,” she glared at the offender.

One Dr. Lucien Blake.

(She was going to absolutely eviscerate him)

—

Shoulder Kiss - season 4

He jolted awake when the bed dipped behind him. A bleary glance at the clock told him it was very late - almost the middle of the night - as a surprisingly warm arm wrapped around his waist and someone curled around him with a sigh even as he stiffened in bed. A light, clean scent - antiseptic and lemon mixed with a faint floral - informed him of who it was that disturbed his uneasy slumber.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come,” Matthew finally admitted to the dark.

The arm around his waist tightened and thin fingers carded through his hair. “I told you that I would visit, Matthew.”

“I know… it’s just…”

“Saying something is different from doing it, I know,” Alice leaned up and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

He relaxed back into her arms as she kissed his cheek again, “I’m glad you’re here though, sweetheart.”

He felt her smile against his skin, her lips briefly leaving his cheek to brush against his neck, and trailed down to the back of his shoulder - warmth spreading throughout his body from wherever her lips touched.

“I’ll be here as much as I can, dearest,” Alice whispered - running her hand up and down his side as she kissed the back of his shoulder again. “We’ll get through this together.”

Matthew grunted - his thoughts turning dark as they always did these days when he ruminated over his leg, but a large part of him believed Alice.

“I know.”

Alice curled further around him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled in the dark of his bedroom when Alice kissed his shoulder - her hand continuing to comfort and soothe him back to sleep.

“Sleep,” she whispered. “Sleep, my dearest Matthew.”

And he did.

—

Lap kiss - season 5

Alice smiled when Matthew looked up from his paperwork and saw her standing in front of his desk. It was a slow day at the station - Charlie and Hobart out chasing leads, Lucien at home for his surgery, and Constable Simmons manned the front desk. Not many people were around and Matthew smiled - beckoning her closer with a small crook of his hand.

“I’m just dropping off some toxicology results for the Kirk case,” Alice lifted the folder in her hands.

“Ah, well, you can come explain them to me,” he smiled and offered his hand - pulling her around the desk to stand between his legs as he leaned back in his chair and kept their fingers intertwined.

“You don’t need me to explain them, Superintendent Lawson, that’s what Dr. Blake is supposed to do.”

“Oh, but as you can see, Dr. Harvey, he’s nowhere to be found,” he raised his eyebrows at her. “I suppose I could make do with you.”

Matthew grinned and laughed when she swatted at his shoulder with her free hand. She narrowed her eyes at him, even when he pulled on their joined hands - trying to cajole her closer.

“I’m teasing, sweetheart,” Matthew told her softly. “I have been paying attention whenever you talk to me about science. While I don’t need you to explain the results… I like it when you do.”

“You do, do you?”

“Mm-hm, you look adorable whenever you’re on a tangent about science. It lights up your whole face.”

Alice ducked her head with a smile - catching his boyish grin out of the corner of her eye. He tugged on her hand again and this time, Alice willingly followed. Matthew’s grin grew wider when she settled on his lap - her weight resting on his good leg, her arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders. One of his hands cupped her cheek - the other curling around her waist - and he pulled her in for a soft kiss.

Her cheeks warmed and she drew back from the kiss. “Matthew, it’s the middle of the work day.”

“It’s a slow day and I need a break.”

She giggled as he pressed fleeting, teasing kisses to her neck. “Nice to see that the Ballarat Police are such tireless workers.”

“Hey,” Matthew pouted as Alice’s giggles grew. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been hard at it with the paperwork since I got here this morning. I’ve been reading so much I think my eyes are going crossed.”

Alice smothered her laughter in her hand as he intentionally crossed his eyes - just to amuse her. She leaned down and kissed him with a smile. “Forgive me, Superintendent, I’ve been proven wrong about my original assumption.”

“All is forgiven… if I receive payment in a kiss.”

Alice rolled her eyes at his grin, but kissed him nonetheless - nipping at his lower lip as a promise of what was to come later once they were home and off duty. Matthew wrapped his arms further around her and kissed her back. Their kiss tapered off into several, smaller ones - ending in the barest brush of their lips together as her thumb caressed his cheek.

“Thank you, sweetheart, for the break.” Matthew whispered.

Alice leaned her forehead against his with a smile, “Anytime.”

#alice harvey #matthew lawson #matthew x alice #tdbm fic #writing of dee #matthew.alice #the doctor blake mysteries #comin' in just underrrr the wire to have it on Valentine's day lmao #I'd planned more but eh they can wait #these four felt cute and felt like enough for now (and I tried to include some that you liked anon!)#Anonymous #au: nfwmb

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linernotesandseasons · 6 years ago

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My 18 Favorite Albums of 2018

Well...Here it is again! 2018 was a...YEAR. One of the toughest I’ve had so far. But full of hard work, growth, challenges, & little victories. Here are some of the albums that soundtracked it. 18 releases that I loved & supported. Songs that helped me make it through. For the seventh year in a row...My favorite albums. Listed here in no particular order (unless you know/enjoy the english alphabet). Top 5 are probably Monae, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Field Report, McEntire, & Liza Anne, in that order. Music marks time & space. These are the ones for this year. Enjoy!

AMERICAN TRAPPIST / Tentanda Via

We start our 2018 journey in a comfortingly familiar place with the second official full length album from Toms River, New Jersey’s American Trappist. His self-titled debut made my 2016 favs list and his old band River City Extension (top 5 reunion tour wish list for sure!) were second to Fun. on my list way back in 2012. Safe to say Joe Michelini is one my favorite songwriters of the last 10 years. Lucky for us, 2018 found Michelini writing equal parts depressing & uplifting boardwalk rock & roll for/from the underdog/underground. Tentanda Via (Latin for “the way must be tried”) is a blast of an album; full of horns, drums (both jazzy & rock & roll-y!), inspired piano, & Michelini at the helm sounding altogether confident in his existential breakdowns. To me this reads like a coming-of-age album at heart (the way must be tried!), but a deeper, wiser sort of unraveling. A mid-30′s rock opus about learning to live with yourself. Learning how to make yourself better. These songs are inspiring and mix more than a little Springsteen ethos (maybe it’s the horns?!) with some late 90′s/early 2000′s emo/indie/alternative etc...

The straightforward rockers “Death Wish” & “Nobody’s Gonna Get My Soul” bookend the nine track album with surprisingly nimble & crunchy electric riffs and off-the-charts energy! In between, the mid tempo drive of “Getting Even” & “Don’t Get In” lets Michelini’s emotional writing really shine. The words jump out of the songs, full of passion, desperation, & an urgency that makes me glad people are still making records like this. There’s also a unholy, weird interlude that you have to hear to believe called “Unfresh Dirtwolf.” American Trappist is a band that came from the ashes of another band. A band that seems reluctant to tour West of...Ohio. A band that stays under the radar. Michelini has been writing some of my favorite songs for awhile & it feels good growing older together. Here’s hoping for a new one of these every other (or just every?!) year for me to belt along to with the windows down in my Subaru. Joe, if you’re listening out East, don’t stop. This is why I love music.

“Driving through my hometown I feel the peace of the Lord / Ride up behind me on a blind dream from my childhood / Looking back again, it’s hard to understand / Getting older, I guess I do / Waiting on some waking dream like it might find you...”

BLACK BELT EAGLE SCOUT / Mother of My Children

I bought Black Belt Eagle Scout’s debut album at Twist & Shout Records the day it came out. I think I loved the cover art and the idea of Katherine Paul’s solemnly solo rock album, recorded in the dead of Winter in rural Washington, sounding like just what I wanted in my headphones to face the Fall. Then (as so often happens) I got a text a month later from my partner at 12:27am that read simply...

“I’m okay. Going to bed meow. Listen to Black Belt Eagle Scout.”

From there we took Mother of My Children on a snowy road trip to Durango, Colorado. Crisscrossing mountain passes through snowstorms, & visiting Mesa Verde National Park, we let Paul’s earnest, determined, & emotional songs, sweep us into the gray. All this to say that this album has already marked some pretty specific time & place for me. There is a starkness to these songs, a simplicity that makes the songwriting stand alone. Where lesser lyricists would be revealed as phonies (or simply bad) Katherine Paul’s stark, powerful words are illuminated by her minimalist production. With a rhythmically mournful 80′s/90′s emo touch (for more modern emo fans I might even hear a little Manchester Orchestra) Paul doesn’t pull any punches. The guitar gets delightfully heavy on the outro to six minute epic opener “Soft Stud” and then twirls & spirals with the drums in the entrancingly sad “I Don’t Have You in My Life.” This is an important album for Paul to have written and there is a great power in her words. Oh also... she plays every instrument on the album!?! Guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, keyboard, organ, various percussion, & all vocals. Very Vagabon. Very Caroline Rose (spoiler alert!)! With our world on fire, and full of threats (from our own government) to native lands & native people, it’s increasingly important to listen to and hear/heed the words and writings of people like Paul; a radical, indigenous, queer, feminist from Oregon. Thanks for speaking out KP. Listen to Black Belt Eagle Scout.

“Do you ever notice what surrounds you? When it’s all bright & tucked under / Do you ever notice what’s around you? When it’s all right under our skin...”

CAMP COPE / How To Socialise & Make Friends

Camp Cope is a GREAT band name. Camp Cope is a REALLY GREAT band. Camp Cope has a wit & an attitude that is so punk rock, so genuine, & How To Socialise & Make Friends is a powerful album. Hailing from Melbourne, Australia, Camp Cope rides a practiced garage-y sound and lead singer & lyricist Georgia Mac’s passionate howl and impressive writing. As someone who grew up on early 2000′s pop-punk, emo, & alternative (something I guess I probably regret more often than celebrate. Because toxic masculinity & white male fragility) there is something so bittersweetly nostalgic in these chord progressions, the earnest electric strums, the yell-sing vocals, that takes me back to high school. Georgia Mac has a way with words, sliding them in & out, over cascading, steady strums, & then sometimes building them up to a frantic yelling. These are songs that sound as if they had to come out, had to be sung this way, like no one else could write or sing them. With an equally muscular rhythm section, “The Opener” attacks music industry sexism head on (if you haven’t seen Camp Cope live, it is chill inducing hearing a whole room belt along to every word) with a bass riff that could fly a jetliner. The three members interact so well together musically and everything from the driving “UFO Lighter” to the lilting “Sagan, Indiana” sounds tightly rehearsed. Equally passionate in their social media presence and their willingness to engage and fight for social justice issues, Camp Cope represents the future. Bands like this are changing the game right now and it’s exciting to hear it in real time.

When I close my eyes for a second, as the title tracks rings out and the gorgeously, lightly sad “The Face of God” ambles in, I’m 17 again. I’m driving for the first time, crying at the moon by myself or laughing with my friends. I’m a freshman in college, skipping my Friday classes (and braving mountain passes!) headed west, headed home. Then I snap awake and I’m 32, it’s Winter here and Georgia bellows “Just get it all out, put it in a song. Just get it all out, write another song!” Thanks Camp Cope. This album is special.

“It’s another all-male tour preaching equality / It’s another straight, cis man who knows more about this than me / It’s another man telling us we’re missing a frequency / SHOW ‘EM KELLY / It’s another man telling us we can’t fill up the room / It’s another man telling us to book a smaller venue / Nah, hey, cmon girls we’re only thinking about you / Well, see how far we’ve come not listening to you / ‘Yeah just get a female opener, that’ll fill the quota’...”

CAROLINE ROSE / Loner

It took Caroline Rose four years from her weirdly rootsy-riffy debut album to find her true self, but Loner sounds every bit like an artist comfortable in their own skin & confident in their craft. Dialing up the synths, fuzz, and brilliantly tongue-in-cheek lyrics, Rose touches on all the big topics: drugs, death, sex (ism), and money! with a casual, conversational songwriting maturity that belies her 28 year old sophomore-ness. Favorites include “Jeannie Becomes a Mom” (check out that bouncy organ!), the steady build & twisty, head-turning songwriting of “Getting To Me,” & the electro warp & wend of “To Die Today.” I was finally convinced into falling for this album when my partner played it three times (or was it six?) back-to-back-to-back on a rainy Summer Sunday afternoon drive from Granby, CO back into Denver. Something about the pacing; the complex, yet immediate song structures that leave you wanting more. These are songs of tested confidence. But shining through it all, Rose is a wild card. A red clad rockstar with a palpable spirit, not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve & laugh a little along the way. Loner is full of dance jams for the cool kids & the loners. At its core it preaches acceptance, and teaches us to love ourselves & love each other for who we are. Go Caroline! See you in a month in LA!

“Waitress sets the tables, two & four & six / Laying placemats, knife, fork, spoon, upon napkin / All the counter people, she knows us all by name / A counter people fission, everywhere we are the same... / & so you line ‘em up, a single cell, another one gone / Ostracon vase with your name on the line...”

FIELD REPORT / Summertime Songs

At some point during this year I begin to realize how important beloved songwriters releasing new works is always going to be to me, I was falling (& re-falling) for new works from long time favs Calexico, Gregory Alan Isakov, Florence & The Machine, & of course Phosphorescent. But somehow it was Field Report’s third release Summertime Songs that stuck and became perhaps the most meaningful of all. I fell in love with Field Report in the midst of a hard, hard winter (2012 I think). Their sophomore album Marigolden has been a constant companion since 2014. I first heard this set of songs (the ones that comprise Summertime) in the June of 2017, sweating in the familiar Eau Claire, Wisconsin heat. Hearing a set of 100% new, unreleased material is exciting and also kind of a risk. After the set I wrote that the new tunes “Sound like June. Like wet cement & flash floods. Like swollen rivers & mosquitos full of hard fought human blood. Like growing older & having kids. Intimate details stretched over skittery, percussive thunderclouds. Like grabbing an electric fence. Digging in &...replanting.” I was 100% in it. On a high in Wisconsin & falling deeper in love with music. Then Field Report went mostly silent & we had to wait till early 2018 to get the recorded versions. Adding even more drums (Shane Leonard deserves a shout-out here as a killer pocket player!) some electronic effects, and ramping up on the arm-out-the-rolled-down-window singalongs definitely serves Chris Porterfield (did you know the name Field Report is just an anagram of his last name?!) well. Whoever it was who asked him “why don’t you try Summertime songs” was on the right track. His songwriting is as electric as always on this set of heartbreakers & as usual he follows a lot the same threads. His lyrics here are visceral, wordy, & wise, & i can feel the songs growing up with me. Sometimes I lead, sometimes they lead me, but we always seem to find each other exactly when we need to.

“Time is a bird with a mean, hooked beak / & he’s just waiting around to work on you & on me... / Shotgun wedding, black on blue / The river’s swelling like a bruise...”

H.C. McENTIRE / Lionheart

Heather McEntire has been carving out a name for herself in the North Carolina music scene for years fronting old-school punk band Bellefea & more recently, the much loved Mount Moriah. But way way back in January, Lionheart roared in under her own name; all ferocious & tender, confident & wild. A true southern record, Lionheart is vocal & lyric forward. From the Sunday morning hymn swell of opener “A Lamb, A Dove,” to the driving swing of “Baby’s Got the Blues,” & the late night, red wine country of “When You Come For Me.” McEntire enlists all her talented musical friends on this effort. There are co-writes with the legendary Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill (whom McEntire credits with helping her find her individual voice), bgvs from Amy Ray (Indigo Girls), Angel Olsen, & Tift Merrit, & inspired guitar work from William Tyler & Durham favorite Phil Cook!

Through it all, McEntire stays true to the thread that made Mount Moriah’s “How To Dance” one of my 2016 favs. Lionheart exudes the smells & scenery of North Carolina and reads like a map at times, referencing points from Stoney Creek to the Green River Gorge. Some of my favorite songs written over the last five years (or ever) have a very strong (& often specific) idea of place. If country music is going to representative of the country that I want to live in, it’s going to be sung by people like Heather McEntire. A powerful queer southern woman; vulnerable & brave, a true Lionheart.

“You’ll find me in the hollow, dosing anything that might / Make the map look any smaller, give me a dog in the fight / So call it off or call it God, call it anything you like / Do you see it in my eyes? / A levee on the rise, do you see it? / The tellin’ ain’t told gently, so pay your tab & pay your dues / The dogwood & the chicory & a silent wood stove flue / Your baby’s got the blues just like you...”

iZCALLi / IV

I was late to the party on Izcalli (a band from my own city!) and when I found them, it was magical, I think they were playing an opening set for Jessica Hernandez & The Deltas at Lost Lake and I probably stumbled in late from PS Lounge or Tommy’s Thai to shredding electric guitar & ska, latin funk, & pure Led Zepplin Rock & Roll. Frontman Miguel Avina was howling & stomping in Freddy Mercury-meets-Mariachi white pants, his long curly hair everywhere, all energy. I was immediately hooked. Calling them my favorite local band and finally getting to put them on this end of the year list. Izcalli joins some pretty good “local band” company here on linernotes&seasons. From Nina De Freitas’ EP last year; Yawpers, Covenhoven, & Rateliff in 2015, to Isakov & Covenhoven in 2013 & The Lumineers all the way back in 2012! Izcalli has been playing around Denver for 13 years and have slowly built up enough of a following to headline the Bluebird Theater last year. Their fourth album (aptly titled IV) comes out swinging and showcases plenty of heavy power chord riffs, violin, horn, & songs in both English & Spanish. Their heavier, more classic rock influenced songs (”Lightning Red” & “Eso Velocidad”) absolutely explode with fiery lead guitar and inspired drumming. When they dial it back and let their Mexican influences show through, like on the eerily crunchy, violin led “Quite de Mas” and the woozy saxophone breakdown of “Solo Se Morir,” they showcase depth and a real songwriting ability. There is an almost Muse-like thunder to the monstrous organ riff of “A New Lie” and closer “Si Estoy Contigo” sends everybody out dancing. With influences from all over (most notably their homeland Mexico City) & a live show that’s not to be missed, Izcalli embodies everything I think of when I think of a true Denver band.

“A frozen heart in me turned out to be my one way home / I swear I’ll leave, I’ll drive myself down to Mexico...”

JANELLE MONAE / Dirty Computer

Dirty Computer is my favorite album of 2018. Much like my favorite album last year (Lorde’s Melodrama) no one was as simultaneously honest & excavating in their personal songwriting; while still writing such absolutely shredding club bangers, as Janelle Monae. Dirty Computer acts as a coming out party of sorts for the 32 year Kansas City-ian, although, to be fair, her first two albums had already scored her Grammy nominations and the stamp of approval from Prince, Eryakah Badu, & Michelle Obama. Her debut The ArchAndroid and her followup The Electric Lady, found her creating elaborate alter egos, protest songs, and complex, critically acclaimed song cycles about life as a black woman in America. With Dirty Computer she is able to hold multiple titles at once. Schizophrenically on top of her game, tying all her alter egos together with stellar production, monster vocals, and some of the best, most interesting pop songs since...well...maybe since Prince. From the Brian Wilson assisted eerie sci-fi sweetness of stage setting opener “Dirty Computer,” she lets loose on some of her most fun, live-a-little anthems “Crazy, Classic Life,” and “Take a Byte.” Deeply personal, political, & inspiring “Django Jane” is stunning, & sets the stage for mega back-to-back singles “Pynk” & “Make You Feel.” Songs of my (and everybody else’s) Summer for sure. “I Got The Juice,” is light & bouncy, & personal favorite “I Like That” is rebellious & rides an immediately memorable instrumental into one helluva vocal take from Monae. She makes a political statement in closing with the anthem “Americans,” (anybody else think this one especially sounds like a lost Prince track?) but her strength is her ability to be both personal & political; a true diva with a purpose. These songs are Janelle creating and sounding exactly how she wants, pushing the limits of what a superstar can do, Her show at the Paramount in July was a highlight for me, and Dirty Computer is hands down my album of the year.

“Box office numbers & they doin’ outstanding, running out of space in my damn bandwagon / Remember when they use to said I look too mannish? / Black girl magic yall can’t stand it...”

LIZA ANNE / Fine But Dying

In a year where I seemed to gravitate to albums & songs about living in, and growing through, mental health issues; Liza Anne’s blistering (and epically titled!) Fine But Dying was definitely a top five album for me. A gifted songwriter, Dying finds Anne finally letting it out with a heavy band, a light touch, & a deep dive into the insecurities & struggles that seemed to be (gulp) some of the same ones I was going through this year. Songs about conversations, relationships (both romantic & platonic), and most importantly, about examining & improving yourself. No one on this list unpacks, observes, and mines their own heart & mind as well or as deeply as Anne does across these 11 tracks. When she really cuts loose, like in the ballistic breakdown of “Kid Gloves,” the fuzzy crunch of “Get By,” or the spiraling, swirling (& also epically titled!) “I Love You, But I Need Another Year” she shines. Fine But Dying is wise beyond its years and a no-holds-barred, place-in-time look at mental health & how we should all be addressing our issues & working things out. Her show at Globe Hall here in Denver back in April was cathartic, thoughtful, & one of my favorite of this year for sure. Yay for fearless songwriters, Yay for rock & roll. Fuck yeah Liza Anne!

“I ran once, took my flight across the ocean / I thought if I could make my way across the sea I’d find a place / Now I’m swallowed up by a city that doesn’t give a fuck / To whether I am up on time / Or whether if I am, well...alive / & I’m so good - getting too good at hiding / Too good at keeping to myself that I’m spiraling...”

MESHELL NDEGEOCELLO / Ventriloquism

I think it was “Atomic Dog 2017″ that first caught my ear at some point last year. I didn’t know Meshell Ndegeocello, but I knew that what I was hearing was classic. The off-kilter guitar strums slithering into that bass drop, finally settling into a steady groove, that melody appearing (seemingly out of nowhere) into a rolling, & instantly recognizable chorus. Next thing I know I’m googling George Clinton and off into an 80′s funk youtube rabbit hole. A covers album to stand up to any other covers album, Ndegeocello has a masterpiece on her hands in both song selection & creativity. In a year where she turned 50, the sneakily titled Ventriloquism is her 12th studio album, Inspired by listening to oldies radio on car rides to her childhood home, influenced by Prince & Neil Young; Ventriloquism is a super smooth revamp of 80s & 90s R&B. What Ndegeocello does so seamlessly on Ventriloquism is take these songs and make them flow as a part of a whole. There is light in the darkness here. There are threads of continuation here. An appreciation for those who came before, those who paved the way. Ndegeocello is a true artist and these reinterpretations not only nod to classic songs & artists, but dig out their own little important niche in 2019.

“Sometimes it snows in April / Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad / Sometimes I wish life was never ending / & all the good things they say, never last / Springtime was always my favorite time of year / A time for lovers holding hands in the rain...”

MIYA FOLICK / Premonitions

Every year I wait till the last minute (and beyond!) to finish this list. I write it up in November & December, agonizing & filling out what I think are my favorite albums (18 this time!) of the year. I enjoy whittling the list down to a manageable number, but I also enjoy reading everyone else’s lists; finding new finds & hearing what other people liked. Then, sometime in the middle of December, I am knocked out by something I missed over all the year of listening & reading. This year it is MIYA FOLICK! I was given a wintry new year’s mix of goodbye 2018 (and F*** you!) tunes from my partner (which I will probably post & write about sometime as soon as I finish posting this because it is goooood), and track 9 of that spotify mix. Bouncy horns, a killer beat, & lyrics that cut right to me but leave me smiling. Rhyming “self home” with “cellphone”?! Singing about leaving the party?! Yesssss!. This is for me! On deeper listens, Premonitions is a goddamn masterpiece. Starting slowly & melodically, openers “Thingamajig” and the title track are captivating, then it unexpectedly explodes into 80′s dance bangers about half way through. Most of the album is deeply personal and self examining, finding Folick digging into to her own weaknesses & fears, without always settling on answers. She is vulnerable yet grand; part Lorde, part Florence, part Stevie NIcks, part Regina Spektor...All Miya. At its core, Premonitions celebrates life, celebrates the little victories. If you want to know/hear what that sounds like, maybe I should let you read from Miya’s bandcamp page...

“Premonitions begins with ‘Thingamajig’ -- something you can't quite recall the name of, but you know exactly what it means and what it feels like. Like the pull of desire that comes with not quite remembering fully. The magnetism of something just on the tip of your tongue. I wanted the album to feel like that thing.

I think a lot about about memory-making as an act of creation, the words we use to describe a memory give shape to and sometimes mutate the memory itself. I believe that the way we choose to describe the events of our lives is not only a means of creative fulfillment, but an absolutely vital part of creating the world we want to live in. When we are dishonest in the present, we create a dishonest future. When we are honest in the present, we create a more honest future. I wanted this album to be the vehicle for a hopeful, truthful, generous, and loving world. I tried not to posture or pretend. I wrote about my life as I've seen it and how I'd like to see it, as both memory and premonition.

The producers, Justin Raisen and Yves Rothman, and I spent months collecting organic sounds to fill the world of this record. We threw away everything that felt false and tried to keep the soul of each song alive. I hope Premonitions gives you comfort and joy. I hope it feels like all the mysterious details of your lives, all your massive and mundane glories. I hope it reminds you that there is beauty in the details. Rainbows in your sprinklers. Drinking water from a hose. The way it felt to make a friend for the first time. Locking yourself in a bathroom to avoid everyone. Dancing until your shins burn. Leaving your phone in an Uber and making your best friend drive you an hour away to knock on a stranger's door after locating it on Find My Phone. Losing a friend. Losing yourself. Remembering...”

MT. JOY / Mt. Joy

I had almost finished making this list and nearly forgot about an album that marked a month-plus in the Spring when I listened to almost nothing else! Philly by way of LA’s Mt. Joy debut with an album that blends sunny California folk & smoothed out east coast pop-emo, into easy listening, easy singing indie rock. Named after a mountain in Valley Forge National Park (SE Pennsylvania); Mt. Joy’s songs similarly find geographic touch points across the US, making this a true road trip record. Multiple California references (San Fran, Mulholland, Hollywood, the ocean), make their way down to New Orleans, and end up on the east coast (”blood on the streets in Baltimore” & “the beaches of Chincoteague”). Without breaking any new musical ground, Mt. Joy sounds comfortable & confident, and their songs play bigger & stickier than your average radio friendly pop-saturated-folk. When the title track hits its festival ready build (”you can’t stop us, feel like Ziggy Stardust”) you’ll have a hard time not rolling down your window and singing along. “Way up over Mt, Joy. Where everyone’s free now. To move how they feel now.”

“Your life will change straight out of the blue / The clouds in your mind just passing through / Image the horses when you set ‘em free / Go tear down the beaches of Chincoteague...”

NONAME / Room 25 (& Song 31)

Room 25 kicks in innocently enough: smoothly humming wordless voices, steady drums, & jazzy piano flourishes. Like a lazy Sunday morning. Noname (Chicago’s 27 year old Fatimah Warner) introduces herself with a laid back, matter-of-fact, stream of consciousness “maybe this is the album you listen to in your car when you’re driving home late at night, really questioning every god, religion...” But then she says something that should make you pay attention.

“Nah. Actually this is for me.”

That creative confidence. That freedom, defines the rest of her album. No matter how much critical acclaim Room 25 racks up (I saw this album on a ton of end of the year lists!), no matter how downright fun & laugh out loud funny her breakneck rhymes are, this one is for Noname. I mean, you can still download (aka OWN...like for your ipod!) the whole album on bandcamp FOR FREE! Following in Chance’s footsteps, it’s free mp3s for people like meeee! Raised in Chicago’s slam poetry scene, she dabbles here in downtempo, smoothed out, futuristic jazz & soul. All the while she is unapologetically herself. Her words tripping over each other, too many thoughts, too much energy, too much passion to hold in. A clear blockbuster talent. One of my favorite new finds from last year’s Eaux Claires festival, her late afternoon set up on the hill was radiant & joyful. The artwork I used here is from her early 2019 single “Song 31,” as she has pledged to change the official Room 25 cover art, due to assault charges leveled in October against the artist who did the original cover. “I do not and will not support abusers, and I will always stand up for victims & believe their stories.” Noname said, and she has been proven to be as vocal in her personal life as she is on tape. As she says in the uplifting “Ace...”

“Globalization is scary, and fuckin’ is fantastic” And yall still thought a bitch couldn’t rap huh?...

“When labels ask me to sign, say ‘my name don’t exist’ / So many names don’t exist / Moved into Inglewood & the trauma came with the rent / Only worldly possession I have is life / Only room that I died in was 25...

Medicine’s overtaxed, no name look like you / No name for private corporations to send emails to / Cuz when we walk into heaven, nobody’s name gonna’ exist / Just boundless movement for joy, nakedness, radiance...”

RAINBOW KITTEN SURPRISE / How To: Friend, Love, Freefall

Rainbow Kitten Surprise made one of my five favorite albums this year (and probably the one that I sang along to in the car more than any other!) Imagine Modest Mouse growing up in North Carolina, in the 2010′s, writing smart, anti-lumineers-imagine dragons tunes, and going on to play arenas & rock clubs alike. This Boone, NC (pop. 17,000) five piece crank out catchy pop rock tunes; equal parts funky basslines, ooohs & ahhhs, and deceptively clever lyrics about religion, the south, and relationships both platonic & romantic. Huge single “Fever Pitch” rides rolling drums, background whoops, and finds charismatic frontman Sam Melo languidly recounting his religious upbringing and sing-rapping about getting to know you better. Other standouts include the acoustic blues (and Aha-Shake-era-Kings of Leon reminiscent!) “Painkillers,” the “Moon & Antarctica” rattletrap sing-song of “Possum Queen,” and the laugh-out-loud funny breakneck alternative pace of “Matchbox.” But it is song of the year contender “Hide” where Melo lays bare his feelings about growing up gay in a deeply religious south, when you get a peek at what Surprises these Rainbow Kittens are capable of. What starts as a bouncy love number takes a turn into some deep songwriting with “I’m running from a place where they don’t make people like me, I keep the car running, I keep my bags packed. I don’t wanna’ leave, just don’t wanna’ leave last.” This is Fruit Bats’ “Soon-to-be Ghost Town” written by someone who’s lived it. RKS packages it all up as emotional anthems, dancey-catchy choruse that stick, & an album that-while serious, is so damn fun to sing along to. They’ll be at Red Rocks next Summer so come hop on the bandwagon and get to know your new favorite band!

“You’re a master of passive-aggressive magic tricks like “that’s not the card that I would’ve picked, but it’s your life to live like how you’d like to live...’”

SUN JUNE / Years

Sun June’s debut record Years is an album that I never expected to be on this list, but one that pushed its way into my heart, ears, and mind a lot over the early Summer. I kept comparing it to Leif Vollebekk’s gorgeously haunting 2017 release Twin Solitude that made it on last year's list in that it managed to be rhythmically funky & interesting while being mostly SO quiet. Even the more “upbeat” numbers; from the gorgeously, golden swing of “Young,” to the steady backbeat of “Baby Blue” keep their composure meticulously. The writing is transfixing on Years and the band is so tight, with every member adding just the right amount of soft sound. I tried to explain it to somebody as music you have to “squint to hear.” It sounds good in the background, all sweet & rolling. But better up close, turned up in headphones. All together & bright. This is an album I would listen to sleepily, on my way home from work, driving Colfax in the first light of dawn at 5 in the morning. Sun June’s lack of an internet presence is refreshing (is there ANYWHERE I can find the lyrics for this album??!!), I think they’re from Texas, and I don’t think they’ve even played a show in Colorado yet! Regardless, Years is tied together with a quietly tight rhythm section, and Laura Colwell’s wispy vocals, grabbing at the edges of my brain, calmy insisting “Four in the morning, I could get used to this...”

“I was almost always leaving / Looking for the reason / Bedside hospital daylight / I go with the Southern mountains / Down the 405, I’m coming tell me you don’t deserve this / I was young...”

TIERRA WHACK / Whack World

I love me a good concept album, but even I would’ve thought that the idea of 15 one minute songs(complete with video accompaniment) making up an entire album, would be a tough sell. Whack World makes good on an innovative concept, delivering something breezy, catchy, & lasting, and making Tierra Whack one of my favorite new finds of 2018! My little sister showed her to me on a “Get-your-ass-to-the-gym” playlist and “Fruit Salad” was immediately stuck in my head for weeks. Mostly down-tempo, Whack is clearly a witty lyricist and creative mind, and at 23, a game changer in the music scene. Also an effortlessly cool, musical, badass. With almost no choruses, this is an album you can listen to over and over (and throw any tracks in mixes) without any clear singles. The bouncy gospel-tinged “Pet Cemetery” has hand claps & dog barks, and is followed immediately by the laugh-out-loud vocals of “Fuck Off.” Whack never takes herself too seriously (so many off the wall and laugh out loud funny vocals!) and the Philly native shows that one minute songs can turn a lot of heads and end up on a lot of end of the year best album lists! Whack World!

“Crispy clean and crisp & clean / For the dough I go nuts like Krispy Kreme / Music is in my Billie genes / Can’t no one ever come between yeah / Don’t worry about me I’m doing good, I’m doing great, alright...”

TYPHOON / Offerings

It seemed like a lifetime since Typhoon released their sophomore knockout, masterpiece album White Lighter back in 2013. I’ve grown a lifetime since, experienced everything since. In the first few weeks of January 2018, out of the darkness, out of the silence: came something darker, weirder, but still magical and at its core, celebratory. Typhoon is one of my all-time favorite bands, one of my favorite live shows, and frontman Kyle Morton writes about memory & loss, life & death, better than anybody in the game. With Offerings they have dropped the peppy horns, slimmed down to (only!) seven members, and zeroed in on the heavy, spiraling folk-rock that hearkens back a little to Bright Eyes or The Decemberists, Broken Social Scene or Arcade Fire. As a loose concept album, Offerings explores in four movements (Floodplans, Flood, Reckoning, & Afterparty) what happens to a mind stripped of memory. Or (side quest/plot/twist) a world willfully forgetting its history. From the hushed chanting that explodes into huge string swells, drums, and shouts of opener “Wake” to the rhythmic, glowing build of the 8 minute “Empricist,” to the mystical picking and ruminating of “Algernon” the first movement could almost stand as an album of its own. The rest of the album unravels at equal parts slow reflection (”Mansion” & “Beachtowel”) and sweeping indie rock (”Remember” & “Darker”). Although a lengthy (and at times not easy) listen, I think Offerings will go down as one of the most ambitious rock records of the last few years.

“& so the light fades / It’s still your birthday / So blow out your past lives like they’re candles on a cake...”

VALLEY MAKER / Rhododendron

There is a mysticism buried somewhere in the emotive vocals & break-in-the-clouds writing of North Carolina by way of Washington State’s Valley Maker. Austin Crane is the singular voice behind the Valley Maker project, painting time & space on a dark, slippery canvas, and hiding complex truths in the rhythmic tides of Rhododendron. This ground has been tread before; by countless folk singers & prophets, wailing of death, dark magic, & the myriad mysteries of time, but Valley Maker understand their place in the linear and bring a modern take to ancient stories. Part War on Drugs-highway-drone (check the double yellow rattle of “Light on the Ground”), part Ben Howard’s-foggy-British-countryside (”Beautiful Birds Flying”), Crane writes songs that stick. They claw and seep their way into skin, into veins, and haunt in a way that echoes of the past. This is songwriting as a conduit. These stories are Crane’s, but they are older; tales told since religion begin. From the first lines of the roiling, dark sky opener (”time is just a game I play / it’s written on the ocean’s waves / circling beyond my brain / something I could not contain.”) to the uncertain give & take of the earthy “Seven Signs” (”I’m cutting in line but I haven’t decided...”) the writing is equal to the musicianship Crane and his backing band clearly have in spades. With Chaz Bear (Toro Y Moi) providing stellar percussion and Amy FItchette (who I was lucky enough to see sing with VM at the Doug Fir in Portland) lending absolutely haunting, otherworldly harmonies, Crane has depth beyond his strange tunings and bleep & bloop electric forests. Through it all there is a steady rhythm to the darkness and like in “Baby, In Your Kingdom” when he tops a wonderfully simple, acoustic walk-down with “Baby are you satisfied? Take a decade, take a lifetime, I know we’re always on a one way street...” there is a timeless beauty even in the mystery. Oh, and saxophone. Rhododendron has some great saxophone.

“Baby in the next life / I can touch you, I can ride the light / Goddamn I wan’t where I thought I’d be / 29. Burn the world around me & I hide / Baby in your kingdom / Sink my roots in, I’m a tall tree / I know, wind is gonna blow again / I know, when I am with you...I am known...”

#black belt eagle scout #camp cope #caroline rose #field report #janelle monae #liza anne #meshell ndegeocello #miya folick #mt joy #noname #rainbow kitten surprise #sun june #tierra whack #typhoon #valley maker #izcalli #american trappist #h.c. mcentire

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castellankurze · 6 years ago

Note

FSF: Someone (or multiple someones?) takes a bubble bath.

fanfic for Completely Normal RPG, run by @lordcaliginous. Also tagging @mystictheurge and @tamsynspeaks as per what is now standard procedure.

Takes place sometime in the month of December.

A Completely Normal Week

Monday

The motorcycle’s engine throbbed as its rider took the final turn into the driveway and slowed to a stop. Shouko dismounted and unlocked the carport before walking the bike inside, pulling her helmet and hanging it off one of the handlebars. The interior of the carport was a disaster, with her mom’s car tucked snugly up against the left side where it had accumulated a fine layer of dust while the rest of the available area was full of tools and spare parts. Some had been left behind by her father, and Shouko had added to the motley collection over the years until the back wall of the carport was hardly accessible, but it wasn’t like they ever used the decorations stored back there.

“Hi mom, I’m home,” she announced as she stepped through the front door, tossing her keys into the nearby basket with a jingle. The Kogawa household was a snug, two-story place with a pair of bedrooms and a bathroom on the upper level with everything else downstairs, and the only response to the girl’s voice was the slow churning of the ceiling fan she’d left on last night.

Once she’d stripped off her riding leathers, Shouko settled down at the table in the family room to do her homework. This consisted of a block of time lasting no more than one solid hour, subjects broken up by use of an egg timer. Over the years she’d gotten pretty good at judging how to mostly finish any given piece of homework in the time allotted, and if she was off, well, partial credit was better than none. She answered questions as fast as she drove her bike, though with considerably more guesswork. 'You could be an A-rank student if you wanted it,’ more than one of her teachers had groused at her. Shouko had come up with any number of excuses over time, but by and large as long as she maintained a D most had learned to live and let live.

At the conclusion of her hour, Shouko packed away her school stuff and left it by the door, there to be grabbed tomorrow morning. That done, she ran upstairs to change her clothes into a set of gym shorts and a plain white shirt, stuffing her earbuds in her ears before heading off to the treadmill.

Most of Shouko’s teachers had guessed at her athletic ability, but those who dismissed the girl as a slacker would have been shocked to see the utter concentration on her face as she sprinted at top speed on her mother’s treadmill, a dumbbell clutched in each hand, stopping only for the occasional drink of water. There once was a time when she would have been soaked with sweat at the end of the workout, but an hour’s run nowadays was little more than maintenance.

When all was said and done Shouko retired to her bedroom, a cavern of rebellious rock music and video game posters from both Japan and America and a battlestation that looked like something that might have been ripped from a NASA installation. Shouko spent her stipends on two things: her bike, and her computer. Lately Saika had been a third, but both longstanding habits were things that that she’d dove into headfirst until she could take apart either and put them both back together blindfolded.

“Oh great, a Genji,” someone complained almost as soon as she’d locked her Overwatch character in. "Nice match everyone, better luck next time.“ Thirty-nine kills and two deaths later Shouko wished everyone a nice day. Quickplay was so damn stupid, and on the next match she chose Roadhog just to mix it up. Someone else whined about multiple tanks and Shouko rolled her eyes. 60% of team damage taken. It wasn’t her fault nobody else could find the point.

"I’m going back to TF2,” she growled aloud, grabbing for her pack of cigs. Of late she’d taped a warning to the front in black capital letters: TWO A DAY. Miyumi always got squirrely when she lit up and Saika always winced. Since she couldn’t avoid the former and felt bad about the latter she’d been cutting down. Given her life lately, it wasn’t like she was gonna live long enough to die of cancer.

She showered and collapsed in bed, lit by the soft red glow of her electronics.

Tuesday

The motorcycle thrummed and growled as she cut the engine and stowed it.

“Hi mom, I’m home.” The keys jingled as they landed in the basket.

An hour for homework. She finished all of it this time.

Today was arm day, and Shouko spent her workout hour doing curls and lifts while Netflix ran some anime she barely payed attention to.

“Hey Eowyn,” someone said as soon as she logged into FFXIV. "Can you craft me a thing?“

"Sure.”

Ten mintues later. "hey are you up for a Castrum Abania run"

“Patch is in like three weeks,” she said with a bit of a sigh in meatspace.

“ya but I really want that sword for glamour plate its ok if you dont wanna go”

“It’s fine I can blow it up with you.”

“thx youre the best blm”

“Hey, Eowyn.” She blinked. That last one had been a whisper instead of guild chat.

“What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say, you don’t seem yourself lately,” her guildmaster said. "Just wanted to check and make sure you’re alright.“

"Yeah I’m good. Just been super busy with all the schoolwork lately.”

“I know the feeling. Are you gonna be full-time again in January?”

Shouko frowned. "I’ll try.“

"Just take care of yourself. Game comes after real life.”

“:) I will.”

She showered and slept a little fitfully that night.

Wednesday

A series of whispers alerted her to the attention of several classmates glancing her way. "Hey, Shouko, can you…“ one of them asked with a blush, curling one arm.

With a grin, she pulled up her sleeve and flexed, to a flutter of giggles. Shouko was never gonna be as strong as Erika, but her daily regimen was having noticeable effects, like leaving her look cut as hell. She was probably down to 15% body fat by now, looking lean and mean.

"Hey, Shouko?” Saika asked at the end of the day. "Would you like to do something Saturday?“

"Sure,” she said, hefting her bike helmet and making sure Saika clipped the spare’s chinstrap in place. "What did you have in mind?“

"Nothing much, just…dinner somewhere?”

Shouko turned the ignition and revved the throttle. "Sounds great.“

After she dropped Saika off she made for the gym, where she could get the type of workout that wasn’t so easy at home. Balance beam, rings, parallel bars - it all came back as easily as breathing. Shouko could spin rings around any of the other girls there. When she wanted to, she could sprint down the balance beam and leap to the vault and from there catch herself on the rings in a split-second one-two-three move that sometimes provoked gasps from newbies.

As little as three years ago, Shouko had been doing this kind of thing pretty much daily. She wondered, sometimes, what her old teammates were up to these days. She didn’t wonder enough to come in on any day but Wednesday, thought sometimes it was extremely tempting to show up jsut to show the lot of them what she could pull off nowadays. She’d never been a Simone Biles, and probably never would be - in fact now that it crossed her mind she wondered if Simone had had an awakening of her own? - but she could have thrashed the regionals nowadays. Funny how things worked out.

She swam a few laps in the pool to cool down and showered before heading home.

"Hi mom.” Jingle.

An hour for homework.

She played a little Mortal Kombat and crushed some jackass who made fun of her tag.

Thursday

The Honda thrummed as she pulled into the drive.

“Hi mom.” Jingle.

Her phone buzzed while she was doing her homework and she didn’t bother looking up until she was done.

“Hi Shouko, they asked me to visit our office in Melbourne while I’m down here, so I’ll be hopping a plane tomorrow. I’ll be a few more days. Have my phone if you need me. Love you!” read her mom’s text.

Shouko stared at it for a minute and texted back “k lu2

Her feet slapped hard against the treadmill. She needed to replace the damn thing when nobody was looking. She was getting to the point where she really needed a higher top speed.

Her Star Wars RPG group canceled again, so instead of playing her Jedi she just spent some more time in CoD blowing holes in people while Fullmetal Alchemist played in the background.

“How are you even watching that,” someone complained in voice chat at one point.

“Listen,” she growled around a cigarette, “don’t hate because Olivier Mira Armstrong has my back.”

He responded with an insinuation that technically wasn’t wrong, but still got him blown to smithereens several times before he finally ragequit.

Shouko stayed up until almost three in the morning before she slumped into bed.

Friday

“A 99. Excellent as always, Ms. Aratani,” the teacher said as she handed out papers. Shouko could see the way Miyumi’s lip trembled as she took the proffered test like it was about to bite her hand off.

“87. Good step up, Shouko,” the teacher said when she reached her.

“Thanks,” she said as she took the paper.

“I mean it,” the woman said, leaning closer. "When you put your mind to a subject you really show your potential.“

Shouko was silent as the teacher moved on. "Thanks,” she grumbled under her breath. The paper crinkled as her hand crushed it.

“Um…excuse me, Kogawa?” the voice caught her as she was walking to her bike.

“Yo?” she said, turning with a blink of her eyes to see a semi-familiar face. One of the girls who’d been looking at her the other day.

“Do you mind if I ask you for a piece of advice?”

Shouko blinked again. "Uh?“

"It’s just…you and Saika…” The girl was blushing hard. "How did you. Um?“

Shouko couldn’t help a chuckle, and she pulled out her customary after-school cig and lit it with a snap of flame from her dagger. The girl didn’t even double-take. Normal people saw what they expected to see. Shouko didn’t even bother carrying her lighter anymore. "Look. You want my advice? Just go talk to her,” she said as she straddled her bike and pulled out her favorite wraparound shades. "Life’s too fucking short and we gotta make time with the people we got before we get left in the dust, you know what I mean?“

"Um…I guess?” the other girl said, rubbing her cheek.

“Trust me. Jump on it,” she said before she revved the throttle.

“Hi mom.” Jingle.

She did her homework so fast her handwriting looked like the fevered sprinting of a deranged chicken.

Her fingertips ached with so many push-ups.

She ended up mostly just browsing the net that night and went to bed.

Saturday

She came out of the bathroom that morning to the sound of her phone buzzing insistently.

“Saika?!” she asked sharply, heart racing.

In the little mirror on the opposite wall, she could see the way her own face dropped.

“Oh. Hi dad.”

She did the math. It was eight in Hitachinaka, which meant it was ten in Ontario. PM.

“It’s super late. You should get some sleep. The plant won’t want their engineer showing up super tired. No, not her, I haven’t seen her in months. Saika’s nice. Yeah, bike’s running great. School’s fine. Mom’s in Australia now, they called her down from Jakarta. I’m fine. Dad, I dropped gymnastics like two years ago. Yeah, tell Karen I said hi. Maybe in a year. Yeah. Bye. …love you too.”She threw the phone against the pillow and did her daily run outdoors. It was cold as hell and overcast besides, but sweatpants and a sweatshirt were all she needed with the way her heart was pumping.

She was gone two hours. When she got back she had a missed call and another text. Saika.

“Hi Shouko, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can go out tonight. I think I must have eaten something bad. x.X I feel like crap. Call me when you can.”

“Want me to bring over some soup?” she asked when the phone picked up.

“No,” said a mewling voice. "I just want to curl up under ten blankets.“

"I’m sorry,” Shouko said.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave you hanging. Promise we’ll make it up, k?”

“You know it. Get some rest. L- …later.”

She looked at herself in the mirror.

The flame daggers hissed as they glanced off Shizuka’s katana. Shouko was fast, but the Eventide rep was more experienced and fast as hell for her own part. The open field was about the only place where the pair of them - any of the girls - could really throw down and get a workout in the most important manner. Dojo masters tended to take it bad if you blew up a wall.

“Your concentration is bad today,” Shizuka observed when they finally broke in the late afternoon.

“Yeah. Hey, Shizuka, got a question for you,” she said around the butt of a cigarette. Typical for her, Shizuka didn’t reply verbally, but only raised an eyebrow. “You ever heard of anyone who stayed friends if one went Eventide and one went Radiant?”

Shizuka glowered.

“Didn’t think so."

The Honda chugged as she parked it in one of the narrow bike-only, and she didn’t bother taking off her leathers since it wasn’t like she was going mallratting. She stopped off at the pharmacy and bought some soda, some beer, some chocolate, and some soap.

"Rough day?” the attendant asked in a sympathetic tone. She barely even glanced at Shouko’s ID.

“Uh huh,” she confirmed. In the parking lot, she slid the candy bar she’d palmed out of her jacket sleeve and munched it.

Once home, she dumped the soap in the tub and ran hot water until the foam threatened to spill over. Then she lit a cigarette and slipped in, groaning slightly as it almost scalded her. She let her phone play American synthwave until the battery ran low and the water was cold and she was prune-fingered.

She looked at the battlestation and threw herself into bed, wrapped around her spare pillow. The wind blew hard that night.

Sunday

Two hours for homework instead of one. Weekends.

There was no meeting of the study group this week and so the day was uneventful, except for one instant when she was flipping channels and there was a news report on the ongoing decommissioning of Fukushima which caused her to mash the power button. Natural disasters were not something she wanted to think about right now.

She ordered pizza and spent the evening playing Brutal Doom and listening to Rage Against the Machine.

Tomorrow was a brand new week.

#kurze writes #asked and answered #fanservice friday #Shouko #completely normal RPG #:)#starcunning

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ohhowpeculiar · 6 years ago

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Who Murdered Margaret and Seana Tapp?

On August 8, 1984, Jim Rollins arrived at a home in Ferntree Gully, a suburb of Melbourne, Australia, to pick up his date for the opera. When no one answered the door and Jim realized that all of the lights were out, he became concerned and entered the home through an unlocked back door.

He found his date, Margaret Tapp, tucked into bed. When Jim went to wake her, he noticed a strangulation mark around her neck and realized she wasn’t sleeping. Margaret had been killed the night before.

After phoning the police and Margaret’s sister, Jim suddenly remembered that Margaret’s 9-year-old daughter, Seana, was supposed to be home as well. He entered her bedroom to find the little girl also strangled in her bed. She had been the victim of what investigators have called “a very sickening sexual attack.” Both Margaret and Seana were neatly tucked into bed by the killer so as to look like they were asleep. The killer had used a rope to strangle them and it was not found at the scene.

Investigators found no evidence of forced entry or a struggle, nor did they find any unidentifiable fingerprints. Footprints from a pair of Dunlop Volley sneakers, a popular shoe at the time, were left on the floor of the home and were never identified. DNA was retrieved from semen on Seana’s clothing, but a decent sample would not be extracted for several years.

A neighbor reported having heard a muffled cry at around 11 PM on the night of the 7th. Their dog had also barked at something outside the home at around midnight, perhaps the killer making their escape from the Tapp home. Between this witness testimony and the fact that both victims were wearing nightdresses, police determined that the murders had taken place either very late on the 7th or in the early hours of the 8th of August.

In addition, neighbors had reported seeing a red Ford utility vehicle parked near the house not long before the murders. The owner of the car has never been identified.

Margaret had worked as a nurse for many years and was also attending law school part-time at the time of the murders, bringing her into contact with many people. She also had a very active social life and was known to have dated multiple men, including men who were married.

In fact, the home where the murders took place had been bought for her by a doctor named John Bradtke she had a long-term relationship with. When Dr. Bradtke died in a car accident a year before the murders, Margaret fought the doctor’s widow for ownership of the home and was ultimately awarded half-ownership, after which she bought the second half. Whether she continued to have an acrimonious relationship with Mrs. Bradtke is uncertain.

In 2008, a man named Russell John Gesah was charged with the murders based on a DNA match. Two weeks later, the charges were withdrawn when it was discovered that the DNA sample had been contaminated in the lab. This revelation brought to light many issues with the handling of DNA evidence and called into question the efforts police had made in previous years to use DNA to rule out other suspects in the case.

"I am now not satisfied, because DNA in the case was contaminated, that those previously eliminated on DNA evidence were correctly eliminated," said Det-Sen-Sgt Ron Iddles

Suspects

In this case, the problem really isn’t a lack of suspects. With little physical evidence to go on and the sheer number of people Margaret and Seana both came into contact with, police have had a difficult time narrowing the list of potential perpetrators.

An angry wife: It’s often theorized that a wife of one of the men Margaret dated might have gotten angry enough to commit the murders. Mrs. Bradtke is the most obvious choice in this scenario. However, this theory doesn’t really match the facts. Besides there being no evidence to implicate anyone in arranging a murder-for-hire, the sexual assault of Seana points to a sexually-motivated predator.

A rejected man or spurned lover: Ian Cook was a family friend who had stayed with Margaret at the house once and had reportedly made unwanted romantic/sexual advances toward her. She later said that he had “come on strong” and she’d told him she wasn’t interested.

Margaret was also said to be taking driving lessons at the time, and her driving instructor was apparently attracted to her. When the police questioned him, he lied about having ever been in the Tapp home, where his fingerprints were found.

Since Margaret dated several men and wasn’t committed at the time to any one of them, the idea of a jealous lover or rejected man committing the crimes has been one of the top theories in the case.

A troubled neighbor: Suspicions in the neighborhood quickly fell on a family that lived across the street from the Tapp home. The family was generally avoided in the community and regarded as troublesome. Margaret, however, had hired one of the teenaged sons to do some yard work for her, despite warnings from concerned neighbors that the boy had a habit of making sexually suggestive comments to older women.

Sources

The Herald Sun: Sex tape clue in double murder of Margaret and Seana Tapp in Cold Case Files

The Age: A mother, her daughter and a murder case that got away from all

The Sydney Morning Herald: DNA blunder sinks kill trial

News.com.au: Family in shock over DNA mix-up

Million Dollar Cold Case: The Murders of Margaret and Seana Tapp (youtube video of Australian true crime documentary series)

h/t to @kannaophelia for requesting this case

#Australia #unsolved deaths #true crime #tc original #homicide

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h20pressurecleaning · 3 years ago

Text

Clean your House Exteriors through Pressure Washing Melbourne

It is not enough to simply clean your house interiors. As a homeowner, you must also make sure that the exteriors of your house is properly cleaned and maintained as well. Unlike the interiors of your house, the outside areas are exposed to various elements and weather condition. Additionally, it also takes more time to clean it. For this reason, your home's exterior needs to be cleaned periodically through pressure washing.

Pressure washing, as a cleaning technique, is becoming more popular as the years go by. However, before you start cleaning your decks, porch, or your siding using this method; it is best to be educated with regards to how this method works.

Understanding How It Works

Pressure Washing Melbourne is a cleaning method that uses high-pressure water to get rid of dirt, grime, and other unsavory substances. The high-pressure water will help separate the dirt and grime from the exterior surfaces of your home. With this method, you can also use detergents or cleaning products to help make the process a success.

So, how does this cleaning method work? If you want to perform this method, you will need a pressure washer. The garden hose will supply water to the pressure washer, where pressure is added using a small water pump. You can add detergent or other forms of cleaning products to the water; however, you must be careful in doing so.

-Use chemicals that are recommended for the kind of pressure washer you're using to avoid damages

-Learn what types of surfaces are recommended for this cleaning technique

Areas You Can Clean Using a Pressure Washer

House Exteriors: These areas must be cleaned periodically to get rid of dirt, grime, rust, mold, and mildew on your sidings.

Decks and Porches: These can be cleaned more frequently. Composite decks must also be pressure washed and inspected to find any damages that needs repair. If you have wooden decks that need to be stained and re-sealed, remember to let it dry first.

Roofs: You can also wash your roof, but you must be careful in doing so. You must not let the water be driven under the shingles. Pressure washing your roof is beneficial since it can get rid of mold and debris.

If you are planning to do pressure washing, Brick Cleaning Melbourne, Lead Paint Removal Melbourne, steam cleaning and paint stripping in Melbourne, Victoria according to your needs and requirements, then H2O pressure cleaning offers you perfect cleaning service in an affordable price. Contact them at 0419 392 575 or visit their website at https://www.h2opressurecleaning.com.au/for more details.

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tkmedia · 3 years ago

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Thanks for the memories, Clarko

After 17 years as coach and 390 games at the helm for 228 wins and four flags, the curtain has fallen on the Alastair Clarkson era at Hawthorn. The super-coach leaves Glenferrie Oval in a much better state than when he found it, having arrived when the club was on its knees. At the time of his appointment as head coach in September 2004, the Hawks had just endured their worst season ever, finishing second-last on the ladder with just four wins, after previous coach Peter Schwab declared during the pre-season that the club could win the flag. Elsewhere, the Brisbane Lions were the most dominant side in the AFL having won the previous three flags, John Howard was prime minister, Steve Bracks was premier of Victoria, and Australia had just won 17 gold medals at the Athens Olympics. More AFL AFL Clarkson arrived at Hawthorn with a clear mission – to make the club great again, and that’s exactly what he would do in the ensuing 17 years. The Hawks went into the post-season draft armed with three of the first seven picks, including a priority pick, which they would use on Jarryd Roughead. The other two players they selected with those high picks were Lance Franklin and Jordan Lewis. Advertisement They joined previous draftees Luke Hodge and Sam Mitchell, who both arrived at the club in 2001. Four of these players would later go on to play in each of the club’s 2008, 2013, 2014 and 2015 flags, with Franklin missing out on the latter two flags. More on that later, but let’s take the time to look back at how Alastair Clarkson turned a basket case into a powerhouse club. His first match in charge of the Hawks ended in a 63-point loss to the Sydney Swans at the SCG, which also doubled as the debut match for Lance Franklin, who ironically now calls the Harbour City home, following his stunning transfer north at the end of the 2013 season. But it would not take long for Clarkson to register his first win as coach, when the Hawks upset recent triple-premiers the Brisbane Lions by 46 points at the MCG in Round 4. The match saw breakthrough performances for third-year midfielder, and now-coach Sam Mitchell, who racked up 36 disposals, and fourth-gamer Franklin, who earned an AFL Rising Star nomination after kicking one major. Roughead and Lewis had made the AFL debuts in the previous week’s match against Essendon, which the Hawks lost by two points. Ultimately, the Hawks would win just five matches for the season, with their only top-eight win being against Melbourne in Round 8, while there were also notable victories over Fremantle (in Perth) and Essendon in Rounds 9 and 20 respectively. Advertisement The following draft saw another future multiple premiership player in Grant Birchall, and former St Kilda forward Brent Guerra, arrive at the club. While another season without finals followed, the club finished 2006 strongly, winning their final four games, including a 61-point thrashing of future powerhouse the Geelong Cats at Marvel Stadium, to finish 11th with nine wins from 22 matches. The 2007 season saw the club return to the finals for the first time since 2001, finishing fifth on the ladder with a 13-9 record as the crop of the draftees started to gel together. In their elimination final they would face the Adelaide Crows, who had reached the preliminary final in the previous two seasons but would only finish eighth on the ladder, at Docklands. The Hawks trailed at quarter, half and three-quarter time, but a stunning final quarter, capped by a clutch goal from Franklin at the death, saw them win by three points before bowing out in the semi-final stage against the Kangaroos. That would only be the beginning of better times ahead at Hawthorn. After drafting Cyril Rioli and luring Stuart Dew out of retirement in the post-season draft, the club started the 2008 season with a bang, winning their first nine matches including a 104-point thrashing of Melbourne at the MCG in Round 1. Advertisement They would finish each round no lower than third on the ladder, and eventually finished second only behind the reigning premiers, the Geelong Cats. In the final round against Carlton, Franklin became the first man since Tony Lockett in 1998 to kick over 100 goals in a regular season, sparking the most recent in-game pitch invasion in AFL history. Wins over the Western Bulldogs and St Kilda, to whom the Hawks lost their only regular season matches against, saw them advance to the grand final where they’d face the Cats, who were going for back-to-back flags. The Hawks went into the match as massive underdogs, but they would pull off a major upset to win their tenth premiership, and first since 1991, in front of a grand final crowd of 100,012 – the biggest since 1986. Mark Williams booted three majors, while Luke Hodge won the Norm Smith Medal as the best-on-ground as the Hawks forced the Cats into several uncharacteristic errors, including a large number of rushed behinds, which forced the AFL to introduce a new rule in that regard the following season. It was also the 305th and final game for club veteran Shane Crawford, who famously hijacked the microphone and yelled out the words “that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” during the post-match celebrations. Advertisement The club entered the 2009 season underdone with injuries, and after an inconsistent season it all came down to a final-round clash against Essendon to determine whether they would play finals or not. In that match, the Hawks led by 22 points at halftime before things took an ugly turn early in the third quarter when Brad Sewell was KO’d in a contentious bump from Bombers captain Matthew Lloyd. This left the Hawks one man down for the rest of the match and they would ultimately lose by 17 points, becoming the first defending premier since the Adelaide Crows in 1998-99 to miss the finals 12 months after winning the flag. Port Adelaide midfielder Shaun Burgoyne would join the club in the off-season that followed, but he would not make his Hawthorn debut until Round 8, to which point the Hawks had lost six of their first seven matches. The Hawks would beat Richmond by just three points in the match best known for Sam Mitchell’s last-gasp tackle on the late Shane Tuck, which also single-handedly saved the coaching career of Alastair Clarkson. If it wasn’t for Mitchell’s heroics, Clarkson would’ve been sacked the next day and the Hawks would not have evolved into the powerhouse club that they were to become. Advertisement The club recovered from their poor start to the 2010 season to finish seventh, but would lose to Fremantle by five goals in their elimination final at the since-demolished Domain Stadium to see their season ended three weeks before the grand final. A much-improved 2011 season followed, with the club losing just four matches en route to finishing third on the ladder, with the losses being against the Geelong Cats (twice), Adelaide (Round 1) and Collingwood (Round 15). They would ultimately fall just short of reaching the decider after losing a classic preliminary final against the Pies. Even then, it was a remarkable result given where they were after seven rounds in the previous season. After adding Jack Gunston to their playing list during the off-season, the club started the 2012 season poorly, losing four of their first nine matches, but would then go on to finish first on the ladder with a 17-5 record despite losing one more game than in the previous season. During the season, Franklin famously booted 13 goals in the match against North Melbourne in Launceston, while he also booted his 500th career goal in the Round 15 match against the fledgling GWS Giants which the Hawks won by a near-record 162 points. Sam Mitchell initially finished as joint-runner-up to Trent Cotchin in the Brownlow Medal count, only for the two to retrospectively be awarded the medal in 2016 after Jobe Watson was ruled ineligible due to the Essendon supplements scandal. Wins over Collingwood and the Adelaide Crows in the qualifying and preliminary finals, respectively, saw the Hawks advance to the grand final for the first time since 2008, where they’d face the Sydney Swans, who had finished third on the ladder with the league’s best defence. The Hawks, which ranked number one in attack, went into the match as hot favourites, but after a dominant first quarter they would succumb to the tackling pressure applied by the Swans to trail by as much as 28 points in the third quarter. They would manage to get the margin back to a point at three-quarter-time, and after leading by 12 points early in the final quarter they would concede the final four goals to lose by ten points, suffering their first loss in a grand final since 1987. It was a disappointing end to a season that promised so much, but it would only fuel the fire for the club to succeed in 2013. As dominant as they were in the 2012 regular season, the 2013 season saw the club compile a 19-3 win-loss record (with the three losses being to the Geelong Cats twice, and to Richmond in Round 19) as they again finished on top of the ladder. After outlasting the Cats in the preliminary final, ending the so-called Kennett curse in the process, the club went on to defeat Fremantle in the grand final, with off-season import Brian Lake winning the Norm Smith Medal for his efforts in shutting down the Freo forward line. In the days following their 11th premiership win, the club was rocked by the bombshell news that Lance ‘Buddy’ Franklin had signed a mega nine-year contact with the Sydney Swans, raising fears about the Hawks’ immediate future. But, like the Geelong Cats did when their superstar midfielder Gary Ablett Jr left for the Gold Coast Suns at the end of the 2010 season, the Hawks would continue to go about their business, beating Franklin and the Swans by 63 points in the 2014 decider to win their 12th flag. Exactly six years after first winning the Norm Smith Medal, Luke Hodge won it for the second time, in his 250th game, as the Hawks claimed consecutive flags for the first time since 1988-89. They would then go on to make it a hat trick, and a 13th flag overall, by thrashing the West Coast Eagles by 46 points in hot conditions in the 2015 decider, with off-season import James Frawley keeping Josh Kennedy goalless and Cyril Rioli winning the Norm Smith Medal as the best on ground. This saw Alastair Clarkson become the first coach since Leigh Matthews (with the Brisbane Lions between 2001-03) to coach a side to three consecutive flags, and also the most successful coach in Hawthorn’s history, with four flags. Entering the 2016 season, many questioned whether the Hawks could join the Collingwood class of 1927-30 as the only side to ever win four flags in a row, but after finishing third on the ladder, they would bow out of the finals in straight sets with losses to the Geelong Cats and Western Bulldogs. Hawks fans were left to ponder what could’ve been after watching the Bulldogs, under second-year coach Luke Beveridge (who had worked under Clarkson at Hawthorn), go all the way for the first time since 1954. Then came the departures of two club veterans, with Sam Mitchell and Jordan Lewis offloaded to the West Coast Eagles and Melbourne respectively as Clarkson sought to reshape his playing list. Into the club came Tom Mitchell and Jaeger O’Meara, as the club looked to remain in premiership contention. With their premiership success starting to wear off, the club finished 12th at the end of the 2017 season, meaning they would miss the finals for the first time since 2009. They were, however, able to send Luke Hodge off a winner with a nine-point win over the Western Bulldogs in the final round of the regular season, only for the two-time Norm Smith Medallist to backflip on retirement and join ex-assistant coach Chris Fagan at the Brisbane Lions. Without Hodge and Sam Mitchell on their list for the first time since 2001, the club surprised many by again finishing in the top four in 2018, only to crash out of September in straight sets for the second time in three years with losses to Richmond and Melbourne. The club would promptly drop down the ladder in 2019, only to finish the season strongly with wins over finals teams the GWS Giants and West Coast Eagles, on either side of beating the Gold Coast Suns at a packed Marvel Stadium in Jarryd Roughead’s final game. His retirement, as well as the departure of Grant Birchall to the Brisbane Lions at season’s end, meant that there were no players left from the 2008 premiership side at the club by the time the 2020 season began. It proved to be the most challenging season of all, with the global COVID-19 pandemic wreaking havoc on not just the AFL, but also the Australian sporting calendar. After beating the Brisbane Lions by 28 points at the MCG in Round 1, the season was put on hold for nearly three months, and a new rolling fixture was released replacing the original fixture that was released in October 2019. The club evacuated Victoria after Round 5, shortly before the state went into lockdown to tackle a massive second wave of coronavirus infections, setting up short-term hubs in Sydney and Perth before finishing the season by playing home games at the Adelaide Oval. Ultimately, they would win only five games, finishing 15th as they suffered their worst season of the Clarkson era. A win over the Suns in Ben Stratton and Paul Puopolo’s final games, though, saved them from what would’ve been their lowest ever finish (16th). Then, as late as Round 19 this year, the club appeared headed for their lowest ever finish when they languished in 17th place on the ladder with only four wins and a draw. But when it was announced that the handover from Alastair Clarkson to Sam Mitchell would take place 12 months earlier than planned, the club finished the season strongly, beating the Brisbane Lions, Collingwood and Western Bulldogs to finish 14th with a 7-2-13 record. History tells us that Clarkson’s final game in charge ended in a 12.11 (83)-all draw against Richmond. In that game, the Hawks led by as much as 31 points before five straight Tigers goals, including one to Jack Riewoldt right at the death, saw the match end with the scores tied.

(Photo by Cameron Spencer/AFL Photos/via Getty Images) Not only that, it was also the final game for veteran Shaun Burgoyne, who was playing in his 407th AFL game and 250th for the Hawks. With his retirement, it means Joel Selwood has become the newest oldest premiership player. The current Geelong Cats captain is the only player remaining from the club’s 2007 premiership team still playing in the AFL today. Another three further premiership winners from the noughties – Grant Birchall, Lance Franklin and Tom Hawkins – also remain. Back on topic now, and Alastair Clarkson will depart the Hawthorn Football Club as their most successful coach, coaching the most games (390), wins (228) and flags (four) in the club’s history. In addition, he has also acted as a mentor to several past and current AFL coaches, including: • Damien Hardwick, who first joined Clarkson on the Hawthorn coaching panel in 2005 and was an assistant in the 2008 premiership victory before taking on the Richmond coaching role in 2010 and leading them to three flags in 2017, 2019 and 2020. • Todd Viney, who coached Melbourne for the final five games of the 2011 season after the late Dean Bailey was sacked after their near-record 186-point loss to the Geelong Cats at Kardinia Park. • Leon Cameron, who has coached the GWS Giants since 2014 and, against all odds, coached them to the 2019 grand final where Hardwick’s Tigers won in a landslide by 89 points. • Adam Simpson, who was an assistant in the Hawks’ 2013 premiership victory before taking on the West Coast Eagles coaching role in 2014 and leading them to a flag in 2018. • Luke Beveridge, who was player development manager at Collingwood when they won the flag in 2010, and was an assistant in the Hawks’ 2013 premiership victory before taking on the Western Bulldogs coaching role in 2015 and leading them to a flag in 2016. • John Barker, who coached Carlton in the second half of the 2015 season after Mick Malthouse was sacked following Round 8. • Brendon Bolton, who coached the Hawks for five matches midway through the 2014 season when Clarkson was sidelined due to illness, than coached Carlton between 2016-19 before returning to Hawthorn in 2020. • Chris Fagan, who has coached the Brisbane Lions since 2017 and led them from wooden spooners to consistent finalists. • Brett Ratten, who has coached St Kilda since mid-2019. He had previously coached Carlton between 2007 and 2012 before joining the Hawks as an assistant coach in 2013 and being part of the club’s hat trick of flags between 2013-15. • And finally, Sam Mitchell, who has now succeeded Clarkson as head coach and will coach the club in his own right for the first time in Round 1 next season.

(Photo by Cameron Grimes/AFL Photos via Getty Images) Additionally, Don Pyke acted as an assistant under Simpson at the West Coast Eagles between 2014-15 before being selected to replace the late Phil Walsh as Adelaide Crows head coach in 2016. With Clarkson’s time at Hawthorn officially finished, it means Sam Mitchell, the club’s 2008 premiership captain, has officially taken the reins as head coach, and he will not have long before he starts stamping his authority on the playing list. He becomes the third premiership captain since the turn of the century, after James Hird (2000) and Michael Voss (2001-03), to later coach their clubs. He also joins Brett Ratten (Carlton), Matthew Primus (Port Adelaide) and Nathan Buckley (Collingwood) as those to captain and coach their clubs in the same time period. Though Hird and Voss won five flags between them as players (and also shared the Brownlow Medal in 1996), neither enjoyed the same success they did as coaches. Read the full article

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