#and for dad I’m going to look up orchestra concerts as usual and see if there are any of the symphonies/composers he likes
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Ticket fees are absolutely atrocious bullshit BUT I got the tx for sister’s birthday show :)
#my ramblings#YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS WITH THIS THAT’S ADDING ON ALMOST A THIRD OF THE TICKET PRICE I’M GOING TO THROTTLE YOU#the thing is last year it was easy to get mom’s bday present because we just got her NICE tickets to sweeney todd#but this year it’ll be hard :/#well actually#false#for her birthday I can always set up a photo shoot situation I just have to look up scenic things we haven’t gone to yet#and for dad I’m going to look up orchestra concerts as usual and see if there are any of the symphonies/composers he likes
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This cured my boredom for a little bit. Was making a few new music playlists and thought.. hmm. I wonder what kind of music the RFA listens to? So, I made this. For no reason at all.
What Kind of Music the RFA + V/Saeran Listen To:
Saeyoung/707:
- (I always see people writing that he’d listen to all star or other cringe meme songs because that’s what seems to be his entire personality, but I like to think he has more substance than that and listens to songs that don’t have to do with memes.)
- He definitely listens to rap/hip-hop.
- Can you not imagine him driving down the road in his cars, windows down, music blasting?
- He listens to his music uber loud in his headphones while working.
- His favorite artist is probably Tyler the creator, i mean, how could you not love him.
- Listens to Mac Miller when he’s sad :(
PLAYLIST:
Who Dat Boy - Tyler the Creator
Stutter - Freddie Dredd
Evil Fantasy - Freddie Dredd
Sweatpants - Childish Gambino
Bounce - Logic
Dead Wrong - Notorious B.I.G.
Movement - Oliver Tree
Stick to Your Guns - Watsky
Both - Gucci Mane
No Sleep Till Brooklyn - Beastie Boys
Can I Kick It - A Tribe Called Quest
No Limit - G Easy
Circles - Mac Miller
Broke Bitch - TMG (lol)
Bonfire - Childish Gambino
I THINK - Tyler the Creator
Good News - Mac Miller
I - Kendrick Lamar
FACE - Brockhampton
King Kunta - Kendrick Lamar
Lovely Things Suite: Knots - Watsky
Zen:
- (Similar to Saeyoung, I don’t believe Zens entire personality revolves around musicals, he probably doesn’t listen to them that often imo.)
- I like to think he’s a... well rounded individual when it comes to music
- Listens to anything and everything.
- I could see him listening to the same music as Seven, but is also very into 70s-90s rock like the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the like.
- He runs listening to all of his music on shuffle and doesn’t have a specific playlist so there’s never a certain vibe to it— it really is all over the place.
- In addition to Seven’s playlist, here’s Zen’s
PLAYLIST:
Funny Face - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Santeria - Sublime
Badfish - Sublime
The Luck You Got - The High Strung
Dedicated to the One I Love - The Mamas and the Papas
Heart of Glass - Blondie
Come as You Are - Nirvana
Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison
Machu Picchu - The Strokes
Dirty Harry - Gorillaz
Love of Your Life - Red Hot Chili Peppers
The Adults Are Talking - The Strokes
Bailee - The Licks
Where is my Mind - Pixies
Hurt Like Mine - The Black Keys
Gap - The Kooks
Give it Away - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
Hoops - The Rubens
Conquest - The White Stripes
Ten Cent Pistol - The Black Keys
Yoosung:
- Yoosung likes more upbeat music, maybe more new age/alternative pop
- Listens to music every time he tries to study, but usually get distracted by it and starts to sing along instead of actually doing his work
- Is probably trying to branch out of his style, Seven and Zen try to convince him to listen to their favorite genres
- The three of them always argue about who has the best taste in music lol
- He’s constantly wondering if his music is “manly” enough (it’s okay yoosung it’s just music)
- If this dude gets drunk and hears any of this music he goes absolutely wild and dances all over the place
PLAYLIST:
Bambi - Hippocampus
Turn - the Wombats
Paris - Magic Man
Chronic Sunshine - Cosmo Pike
Death of a Bachelor - Panic! At the Disco
Silvertongue - Young the Giant
Brazil - Declan McKenna
Unbelievers - Vampire Weekend
Baseball - Hippocampus
Australia - The Shins
Prune, You Talk Funny - Gus Dapperton
Honeypie - JAWNY
Alien Boy - Oliver Tree
Satellite - Guster
So Young - Portugal. The Man
Blinding Lights - The Weeknd
Circles - Post Malone
Unbearably White - Vampire Weekend
Tiny Umbrella - Coast Modern
Way it Goes - Hippocampus
Electric Feel - MGMT
Jumin:
- this guy has 2 modes and that’s it: classical bitch or music that has words
- He appreciates the fine art of classical music and listens to it when he has work to get done or when he’s trying to relax.
- If he’s in a good mood he’ll put on a playlist that includes “music with actual lyrics!”
- It’s a dad playlist. Billy Joel, Billy Joel, Billy Joel, Elton John, The Beatles, Billy Joel.
- He likes Billy Joel. Jumin has a dad personality you can’t convince me otherwise lol
- He tried to branch out but can get very picky in his interests. “I don’t like this guitar riff— change it”
- Either way his 2 modes are apparent in his playlists
PLAYLIST:
Dreams - Fleetwood Mac
California Dreamin’ - The Mamas and the Papas
Don’t Ask Me Why - Billy Joel
Starman - David Bowie
Miss You - The Rolling Stones
Dancing in the Moonlight - King Harvest
Come and Get Your Love - Redbone
It’s Too Late - Carole King
Movin’ Out - Billy Joel
A Horse With No Name - America
I Want to Hold Your Hand - The Beatles
Honky Cat - Elton John
Vienna - Billy Joel
The Stranger - Billy Joel
Waltz in A Minor - Chopin
Hungarian Dance No. 5 in G Minor - Brahms
Waltz No. 7 in C Sharp Minor, Op. 64, No. 2 - Chopin
Souvenir de Paganini - Chopin
Solfeggietto in C Minor - Bach
Prelude in B Minor, Op. 32, No. 10 - Rachmaninoff
IV. Allegro Molto From Quartet - Yo-Yo Ma
La Fille Aux Cheveux de Lin - Debussy
Porz Goret - Yann Tiersen
Carnival of the Animals: VII. Aquarium - Camille Saint-Saëns
Carnival of the Animals: XIII. The Swan - Camille Saint-Saëns
Jaehee:
- We all know her obsession with Musicals (specifically zens)
- Other than this she listens to...well honestly I don’t know
- Her music doubles as something she can get hyped up with and something she can listen to to relax.
- She loves to dance, so a lot of her songs and just songs that she’ll never be able to refuse to move her feet to!
- She likes the old classics and then she likes Doja Cat. Lizzo? Queen.
- She’s a barb let’s be real please. you can never convince me that she’s not
PLAYLIST:
Adore You - Harry Styles
She - Harry Styles
Call Me - Blondie
Starships - Nicki Minaj
Hey Mickey - Toni Basil
Juice - Lizzo
Say So - Doja Cat
Voulez-Vous - ABBA
Waterloo - ABBA
Cuz I Love You - Lizzo
Killing Me Softly With His Song - Roberta Flack (LOL the memories associated with this song after Killing Stalking..... hahahaha BUT ITS STILL A GREAT SONG!)
Only - Nicki Minaj
Boss Bitch - Doja Cat
Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac
Beez in the Trap - Nicki Minaj
Woman - Harry Styles
9 to 5 - Dolly Parton
Blame it on the Boogie - Michael Jackson
One Way or Another - Blondie
Tia Tamera - Doja Cat
Truth Hurts - Lizzo
V:
- indie boy indie boy indie boy indie boy
- Cmon just look at him he’s an indie boy
- If you’ve ever met a film student that gatekeeps music, they have the same exact taste but V won’t say shit to make you feel stupid. It’s just music bruv
- If you’ve ever been to an indie concert you know the fuckin dance you know what I’m talking about. he does that.
- Rolls a joint, pops the music off and he paints, does photography, whatever. Either way he straight vibes every single time the tunes come on.
- Low key thinks he has the best music taste. that’s just how dem indie kids roll let’s be real here.
- For some reason knows everything about every type of music. will spew facts about artists and songs at random
PLAYLIST:
Shuggie - Foxygen
Necessary Evil - Unknown Mortal Orchestra
Homage - Mild High Club
Another One - Mac DeMarco
Plants - Crumb
What Once Was - Her’s
Heart and My Car - Summer Salt
Cottage Roads - The Walters
Moonlight on the River - Mac DeMarco
Work This Time - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard
Like Yesterday - Paul Cherry
Call it Fate, Call it Karma - The Strokes
Knowhere - Nick DeLaurentis
Escargot Blues - Guantánamo Bay Surf Club
A Side / B Side - Tipling Rock
Dark Red - Steve Lacy
That I Miss You - Vansire
Top Tier Love - Lonely Benson
Driving to Hawaii - Summer Salt
Taking Up Space - Mustard Service
She’s the Only One - King Guru
Saeran:
- emo boy emo boy emo boy
- We all know it
- As much as I’d love to say he listens to heavy death metal, there’s a part of my mind saying NO he’s not like that.
- Well he is, but he’s got more than a few single interest
- Probably listens to Nirvana, Cage the Elephant, anything similar
- Is always trying to listen to new music
- Kind of sick of Seven blasting his music all the time and listens to the opposite of hip hop whenever possible
- Honestly enjoys all types of music, but sticks to his favorites
PLAYLIST:
- All Apologies - Nirvana
- Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - Hozier
- Soma - The Strokes
- Black Madonna - Cage the Elephant
- Hysteria - Muse
- Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High - Arctic Monkeys
- I Got Mine - The Black Keys
- Supermassive Black Hole - Muse
- Under the Bridge - Red Hot Chili Peppers
- Back Against the Wall - Cage the Elephant
- Creep - Radiohead
- Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana
- Demon Days - Gorillaz
- Bulls on Parade - Rage Against The Machine
- Matador - The Buttertones
- Holiday - Green Day
- RIP - The Licks
- London Calling - The Clash
- Loser - Beck
- What I Got - Sublime
#mysme imagine#mystic messenger headcanon#mystic messenger#mysme#zen#hyun ryu#zen mysme#zen mystic messenger#jumin han#saeyoung choi#saeran choi#unknown mysme#ray mysme#yoosung kim#jihyun kim#v mysme#jaehee kang#saeyoung x mc#v x mc#jumin x mc#zen x mc#yoosung x mc#jaehee x mc#saeran x mc#music
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Jon Lord, Deep Purple
Original article by Lee Marlow which was first printed in the Leicester Mercury in July, 2000.
-
You join us in the hallway of Jon Lord's sprawling Henley-on-Thames home.
Him, Leicester born, millionaire keyboard maestro with rock legends Deep Purple and Whitesnake; me, Leicester-born over-eager hack with a headful of daft questions he's answered a thousand times before.
Holding out a hand, Mr Lord, the David Niven of rock 'n' roll, greets me like a long-lost friend.
Grey stubble frames his face and a head full of slate grey hair is tied neatly in a pony tail.
"Good to see you... find it all right?... blah... terrible weather again isn't it... blah... Yes, it is nice round here isn't it... George Harrison lives just down the road... blah... we're touring in August... blah... on the road in South America..."
He hardly stops to draw breath as we settle in the cream lounge.
I can't help but notice the luxurious off-white carpet is so plush that I can trace my footsteps from the oak door to the immense sofa and, in the corner, a small cinema screen masquerades as a TV.
Life has been kind to Jon Lord.
He's sold millions of records and, erm, "rocked" the biggest audiences the world over – from the 200,000 fans at the California Jam in the mid-1970s to last year's hybrid Royal Albert Hall gig featuring Deep Purple and the London Symphony Orchestra.
Purple, his mainstay band of the past four decades, are about to hit the road again.
Lord admits that after all this time it's hard to resist.
"I don't need to do this anymore," he says, "but it is immense fun.
''I do see a time when we'll have to call it a day, of course, but when? I know I can't do it when I'm 90, but..."
It's all a long way from life at 120 Averill Road, where Mr Lord senior packed socks by day and played sax by night and where the young Lord enjoyed "a perfect childhood," roaming through the nearby countryside with his grubby-faced pals.
An after-school diet of piano lessons, homework and bike riding, however, left a teenage Lord facing an extra year at Wyggeston School.
"I just wanted to play with my friends," he says. "But it was always homework and piano lessons. Something had to give – and it was usually homework."
After being sacked from his first two jobs in Leicester, Lord left for London to study acting and played roll-out-the-barrel-style standards in smoky pubs to pay his rent.
Despite his best intentions, Lord's hopes of becoming an actor were overtaken by his desire to play rock 'n' roll and by the mid-60s, he'd been roped in to play keyboards on The Kinks' You Really Got Me.
"All I did was plink, plink, plink," he laughs. "It wasn't hard."
But from there, Lord and his trusty Hammond organ didn't look back.
He had a top 10 hit with Let's Go To San Francisco with The Flowerpot Men and was pocketing the princely sum of £60 a week.
Lord's future was bright. In fact, his future was Purple.
The group formed in 1968 and had a smash hit in the US with Hush at the end of the year. Three decades later, Kula Shaker took the same song to No 1 in the UK charts. ("Good version as well," says Jon, "if a bit too fast.'')
Purple opened for Eric Clapton's Cream in the States, but after five storming gigs they were taken off the tour as the energised Purple boys blew Slowhand's shambolic drug-addled trio off stage.
"We got on well with them. They had no idea we were to be taken off the tour – they were too stoned!" recalls Jon.
Back home, Purple instigated the first of many line-up changes, welcoming new singer Ian Gillan and bass player Roger Glover – a switch which heralded a new era for Purple and, with it, British rock.
"We knew we had something. It was just so exciting. We used to practice every afternoon and then gig every night."
Gillan brought more than great vocals to the band – his jet-black long hair and charisma attracted the ladies as well.
"There were plenty of groupies at that stage," smiles Lord.
And?
"Well, let's just say if you give a young lad a bit of money and untroubled access to nubile young women – it's not a bad life is it?"
Even at the wrong side of 50, Gillan, it appears, still has a certain charm with the opposite sex. Lord and Gillan were recently interviewed by former Watchdog beauty Alice Beer for the BBC1 religious show H&E.
"I might as well not have been there," smiles Lord. "She was completely taken by Gillan. And after the show they left together and went for a drink. No, I don't know what happened!"
The first five years of the 1970s saw Deep Purple trapped in a perpetual album-tour-album loop. The shows were sold out and the albums – In Rock, Fireball, Machine Head, Made In Japan, Who Do We Think We Are? – all went platinum.
They made a wodge of money, concedes Jon, but their managers made more.
Yet despite the excess (they also had their own plane, naturally), Lord steered clear of drugs.
"I can say hand-on-heart we were never really a drug band. My Dad bought me my first pint and I was still very much a lad from Leicester, you know.
"I experimented with drugs, of course I did. I smoked grass, but it left me sitting in a corner, introspective and giggling to myself.
"I had a brief flirtation with cocaine in the late 1970s but, to be honest, I don't really like being out of control."
The drugs came later. American Tommy Bolin, drafted in to replace the increasingly moody and erratic guitarist Ritchie Blackmore, succumbed to a long-term heroin habit in 1976 and Lord still recalls the time a cocaine dealer chased bassist Glenn Hughes on to the band's private plane, demanding $3,000.
By 1976, the writing was on the wall for Purple and its elaborate brand of rock music. Punk was the new king.
Lord retreated to the States for two years. But former Purple leader David Coverdale was looking for someone to become the new ivory tinkler in his new outfit, Whitesnake, and Lord fitted the bill.
"He wouldn't take no for an answer. I harboured no ambition to be Whitesnake's keyboard player, but he was very, very insistent."
Persuasive Coverdale might have been, but financially generous he certainly wasn't.
"I was in Whitesnake from 1978 to 1983 and he paid me abysmally! I complained regularly and he'd say 'Ok, leave it with me', but it never changed.
"It was a good laugh – that was the main reason I stayed in the band. It was ironic that in the middle of this punk revolution we were playing white R&B and selling out tours."
Strangely, considering the times, Whitesnake's brand of sexist crab-paced rock was a hit.
They were the biggest-grossing tour band in Europe by 1981. But Coverdale – secretly nicknamed Elsie by the band because of his louche on-stage antics and some of his cheesy lyrics – wanted success in America. At all costs.
"It was all style over substance towards the end," sighs Lord. "The band lost its heart. It was just about posing."
The music might have lost its soul, but Whitesnake – complete with a new band of poodle-permed hired hands in black spandex and glitter jackets – went on to sell 17 million albums in 1987.
Lord, meanwhile, had answered the call to reform Deep Purple.
"The critics said Purple getting back together was about money. It was never about money," says Lord. "It was exciting for us and the fans when we got back together."
And that's where he's been ever since. In truth, the reformed band never quite graced the same artistic heights they reached in their heyday, but on the concert circuit they're still capable of selling out a Wembley Arena or NEC.
"I don't enjoy touring in the way I used to, but those two hours on stage make up for it.
''The day I can't open that door and look forward to it is the day I say, 'Thank you very much and goodnight'."
And that's about it. Interview over. I've got more daft questions but, crikey, I've been here for more than three hours and he needs to finish a musical extravaganza he's writing for the local church. Phew, rock 'n'roll.
"Take care driving back," he says, "and give my love to Leicester."
#brb im crying#that jon composed and performed songs for his local church has always been my fav#those church grannies must have been jamming like crazy#jon lord#deep purple
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Red Queen Secret Santa 2019
A fanfiction for @redqueen-marecal-lover
I hope you’ll enjoy it! It’s a next generation story <3
A Melody and A Flame
Coriane
My life began to take a turn downward with that cursed party. Before, I was a girl just like any other, no one special, who only wanted to improve on the violin and whose biggest problem was jealousy of her pampered baby brother.
I could’ve guessed, I suppose, paid more attention, listened to my parents discussing matters going beyond the concerns of a 12-year-old. In hindsight, everything is possible and foreseeable, when in truth, I don’t think it would’ve changed anything. It wasn’t my fault.
Furthermore, I had no reason to anticipate anything. I was a child, and everyone in my family, everyone who cared about me and who I cared for in return, wanted me to do anything but be a child. For them, this simple thing had been a luxury they happily granted me.
Unfortunately, there were people who didn’t care about me, but my pedigree.
I have to confess I was the most excited about the party myself. It was to be an event much grander than the usual school concerts I played at; a soirée of guests from all over Norta and even from beyond her borders where several groups of young musicians could present their skills. Weeks before I was listed in the string orchestra, I’d had been eyeing a dress in a Summerton boutique. I’d tried it on a few times, sneaking behind the vendors, and fell in love with the deep green gown with its high lace cleavage, dreaming of myself on the stage in the ballroom of the Summerton town hall, the former palace.
The day I received the news that I would play at the party, I’d also saved enough of my own money to go and buy the dress. No longer the awkward 12-year-old in the exquisite shop, I entered the boutique with determination and pride, trying on the dress for a final time and lifting my violin out of its case to test its feel against the fabric as well.
The vendors listened intently to the handful of notes that spread through the shop, smiling at me with utmost politeness when we finished the trade. I beamed as well, obviously, and did so the rest of the day and when I stormed home, full of joy.
My parents weren’t at home, so I couldn’t tell them yet. Instead I took care of Shade, my little brother. Years ago, our parents had been worried if it worked out, my violin lessons and a lively toddler, yet that had never become a problem. When he was a baby, I’d been ambitious to get good enough to play him lullabies he’d sleep to, and as he grew, he still loved to listen to my exercises – no matter how repetitive – while he’d play quietly with his own toys.
Even at mere five years, he knew to congratulate me as I told him about the party concert and after I showed him the piece I was to perform, I played games with him in turn.
It was one of the best days of my life, altogether. Maybe because that night, I went to bed full of happiness and self-confidence as well as naiveté, for the last time.
My parents heard the news at breakfast. Mom squealed when she learned of it, kissing and hugging and maybe even a little shocking me. I was so happy she was happy for me. Dad was like always, proud of everything I did like I was his own kind of princess, but Mom’s excited outbursts were rare, and thus more precious. It wasn’t just the one concert, it was the perspective coming with it – me becoming a musician, a person living her dream. All Mom could want for her children.
The high mood soured in the afternoon when I presented the dress I loved so much. They still smiled, and I with them, but something had changed. I couldn’t read their faces, didn’t want to either. Finally, Dad pulled me over, sitting down with me. “Coriane, I’m not sure,” he said. “We can’t … we aren’t …”
It was the first of many times I heard these half sentences, buzzing with implications.
We can’t. We aren’t. A code of rules I hadn’t known of caged our lives.
My hands fidgeted and I had to look away. Of course I was pissed, too. How dared they deny me my dream dress?
Dad squeezed my hand and when I pulled away, Mom came over and looked in my eyes.
“It’s green like Montfort,” she said, and Dad nodded. She sighed. “Coriane, see, we can’t … it’s better if we don’t show any allegiances.”
I was bewildered. Montfort was an ally of Norta; Mom’s family lived there and we visited them twice a year. Of course we had ties to Montfort, so why should that ban wearing a colour?
Calmly, they told me that Montfort and Norta kept a careful distance to avoid shedding suspicions of unduly influences – or imperialism – from Montfort’s side. Especially the Barrow-Calore family, once we’d settled back in Norta, had to stay neutral.
M parents were soldiers. Since the last years had been peaceful, I hadn’t watched for signs of political unrest. I hadn’t seen reason to. Life was good. But while my parents weren’t politicians themselves, they were enwrapped with friends high up who provided them with intelligence. In turn, Mom and Dad weren’t to show their personal opinions. Which, I had to realize, extended to their children.
Irked, I tried to take it lightly and proposed in jest several other colours for me to wear – which were all discouraged, a lakelands blue being the last of those. “What? I’d offend everyone equally,” I snapped.
“White is neutral, it’s all colours,” Dad offered eventually. Technically, the same applied to black but even I knew that was the real taboo. Black was the colour of the royal house Calore and its loyalists.
Mom gave me a wry smile. “I have a surprise for you,” she said compassionately and got up. Left waiting, I stared in a mirror. Would the rest of my life be like this, forbidden to wear a certain colour in a certain place, or only when important people could see me?
Coriane Barrow-Calore, that name had never been a problem before. In Summerton, everyone had family or friends who had history with each other, reaching a long way back, rarely nicely. I was one of many. You didn’t see a princess when you met me. My blood was obviously Red, and with my small though not delicate figure, brown skin and brown eyes, I resembled Mom more than Dad. Apart from my long black falling down my back in shiny waves. I loved my hair. Would soon people appear and claim how “Calore” it made me look?
What else did I inherit from him?
Mom returned with another gown, a wholly different one she held up with fanfare. Dad smiled, gestured for me to take it.
I got up slowly. The dress was white, high-waisted and would look rather plain if not for its exquisite materials and tailoring. It was soft cotton and lush silk with intricate embroidery shimmering pearly. It was obviously more expensive than anything I could’ve bought myself.
Mom gazed at the gown with affection. “My sister Gisa made it and sent it as a present for you,” she explained. “It would make her proud if you wore it on the occasion.”
My hand trailed over its skirts. “Sure,” I agreed quietly to make peace. I swallowed my annoyance since the gown was so beautiful. Maybe my parents had really only wanted me to wear this dress. Maybe nothing was actually this dramatic. I realized I couldn’t ignore my royal descent as before but, well, I thought being aware it was a part of growing up.
My parents’ concerns were quickly forgotten as I returned to exercising my music for the concert, returning to what was really important to me.
The evening of the party I put on Gisa’s creation with awe, watching its skirts swing as I pirouetted. Dad seemed similarly amazed. He pinned up half my hair and let the other fall down in curls. Gold and copper make-up shimmered on my cheeks and eyelids, letting my brown eyes sparkle. I hugged Shade before we left and, full of anticipation, played my piece for him one last time. He was still too little for such a party; Mom said he’d be bored. She glanced at me then. I blinked but we said nothing else.
My parents both wore dress uniforms, as usual for events like this.
I understood Mom’s thoughtful look later at the party. The decorated ballroom was impressing, the students playing before me were passionate. So was I. My group was scheduled to play in the middle and my heart beat so fast, I didn’t know if it was excitement or the sensual onslaught of the party. A surprise were the animal decorations of butterflies and birds on the ceilings, corners and pillars. I felt watched and with nervousness, I rushed behind the stage for last preparations. I don’t remember much of the actual concert; it was only about 15 minutes long. My anxiety changed to concentration as I held up my violin and sunk into the music in harmony with my fellow musicians. Pleasant warmth spread through my body. I’d been so glad to receive this spot at all; I didn’t mind not having a solo part. I loved perfecting my skills more than being special. I was no one special during my performance, rather someone talented, and it was good.
This emotion of content was lost afterward. I still brimmed with its lingering presence but the party itself became a drag for me. I didn’t know the guests besides my fellow musicians, didn’t know who to talk to or what to say. The ever-present noise bothered me too much to even try to follow a conversation and I abhorred dancing (and with who, furthermore?). Unlike my parents, who, after praising and congratulating me, left me alone to refresh old contacts. I found a seat close to the stage and defended it by staying seated, only to be even more bored after the youth concerts ended. I wanted good music to listen to instead of the droning voices, or at least something to read. I itched to get my violin back from the cloakroom, if only to get comfort by holding and touching it and occupying my fingers.
Instead, I passed the evening with eating. I couldn’t figure out many of the dishes, so I was hesitant at first, but after I’d found a favourite, I piled a large portion of it on my plate and rushed back to my place. At least nothing bad could be said about the potatoes.
Sometimes, I thought I heard my name whispered behind me and startled. Had someone noticed I was one of the artists? Yet I dreaded being spoken to and was relieved when nothing followed up. My unsettlement stayed though and the animal decorations only turned weirder. From the corners of my eyes, I believed they were moving, but how could that be? In my growing confusion, I looked around the ballroom and glimpsed my parents in the distance. I jumped up. It was getting late enough to leave.
Give it a good end, I said to myself, find Mom and Dad and say goodbye to your music partners. I strove for them, careful not to bump into people. I was relieved when I reached the empty dancefloor yet something was odd about it. I’d intended to dash across it, to the alcove where Dad was, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I footed further, goose bumps rising on my skin. My eyes moved as I gasped: This time, I was certain the birds moved.
And then they flew toward me.
I screamed.
I lifted my arms to protect myself. I was so hot. Butterflies joined the birds and I stepped back. The heat was a comfort. My hand jerked forward and with it, a flame.
I’d felt the heat for months. It rose sometimes when I was anxious yet instead of making me sweat in stress, it coursed my body pleasantly and erased my discomforts. For a moment, it did this at the party too. I’d burned a few of the animals to ashes and bones that dropped to the ground, the rest retreated. I fell to my knees. I stared at my hands that brought forth fire. I didn’t know I could but I wasn’t surprised. Not at all. I smiled faintly. The fire was within me and I could call it back whenever I wanted.
The murmurs returned to the room and with it, my peace vanished. I froze. The master of ceremonies ran toward me and patted my shoulder carefully, as if afraid I’d burn him.
“Madame,” he urged quietly. I blinked; I hadn’t liked his touch. He swallowed, his lips moving before he repeated, “madame…!” and prompted me to rise.
He took my hand by the fingertips in an odd mix of firm and light which I only realized later as reverence, as well as that he’d wanted to call me by my name first. Fortunately, he didn’t, or I wouldn’t have made it to my parents and back home before the guests figured out who I was by themselves.
That was bound to happen soon enough.
I didn’t go to school the days after the party. We didn’t know what to do when the letters started to arrive. The morning after the event, my parents pretended normalcy. They were good at it, at least in front of Shade and me. Mom played with Shade and Dad was his usual talkative self. I considered he liked that I was a burner like him. No one could guess what kind of ability I’d have and I’d imagined how Mom and Dad would joke with each other once we found out.
I wanted to find that in the way he smiled but I saw no genuine joy. I knew when he asked me if there’d been a spark.
“A spark?”
He sighed. “Did you need a source to … make fire?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, looking away. I did know. He asked because he wondered if my ability was like a Silver’s or a Newblood’s. I had to be Newblood, didn’t I? I was a Red with an ability, but could one be sure when I was half Silver?
Sure was I that the fire came from within me, no need for a spark. It was mine. While Dad was merely curious about my ability, the letters told another story: Of people who believed my fire a beacon of rebirth – the rebirth of the burning crown.
I read every one of the letters; my parents soon ceasing to try to talk me out of it. I had to know what concerned me. None of the letters was straight-forwardly royalist. None addressed me as “highness” or “princess”. The master of ceremonies had only been the beginning of an endless line of “madames” and “my ladies”, used so often it turned into something deeper than politeness. It was blatant. Some even dared to reduce my name to “Coriane Calore”, dropping Mom’s last name like they wanted to remove her heritage from me and Norta herself.
Beyond the addresses, the contents were artworks of suggestive insinuations. What a pleasure to see a burner in the Hall of the Sun, they wrote, using the old name of the building that was outdated though not forbidden.
Your flame gave me hope for Norta, said another.
My family rejoiced at the memories you woke, said the letter sent by Carol Viper, probably the most disturbing one. The Vipers were the important, most dangerous of the royalists and seceders and likely those responsible for the bird assault causing my outburst. It’d be investigated. The Vipers liked to deny accusations of animal spies or attacks and so Carol Viper was barely tolerated in Norta only for her insistence of distance to her traitorous relatives.
I figured which memories she wrote about – my mother falling into Summerton’s Queenstrial 23 years ago and revealing her Newblood ability. I suppose, while I was a burner like Dad, Mom and I would always share the way our abilities showed themselves in public.
The letters were a slap in the face that came back again and again. After two days and a dozen of them, I expected Prince Arthur of the Lakelands – who had been one of the foreign guests – to ask for my hand in marriage. I thought that my childhood was over, that a girl is only allowed to be a child until someone notices she is useful for them. Now I was some kind of fire goddess. I stared at the walls of my room when I didn’t read the letters. For once, I didn’t yearn for my violin, didn’t itch to occupy my mind and fingers by creating music. I thought … I thought my dream of a music career had ended, that I was no longer free to pursuit it when I was under the threat of being turned a reactionary’s political tool. The fear of losing the music pained me.
Mom came for me every day, joining me on the bed with her face full of care and worry and love. She understood how strange this was. A Red girl with an ability, a child of a Red and a Silver, no one would’ve cared for me 20 years ago. I would’ve been reviled at best; now the royalists probably thought themselves progressive by “championing” me.
Mom waited until I asked her to hug me and after years, I wanted it again. I hadn’t enjoyed touches since I was little. With her arms around me, I cried, craving to be a little kid again, when I was my parents’ greatest treasure. Their firstborn child, born of Mom’s first pregnancy ever without any of the complications that came after. Mom and Dad had held me for comfort after her miscarriages; happy that while having a second child turned out to be so difficult, they’d always have me.
I was jealous of baby Shade because everything had become different by then, in the seven years that lay between us. I was the strong and healthy big girl while he was little, frail and to be protected. No matter that he grew up as strong as me, Mom and Dad pampered Shade for the losses we’d suffered.
My jealousy was so meaningless now.
“Can’t we go back to Montfort, Mom?” I asked. “To that lonely cottage in the mountains?”
Mom stayed silent like she was considering it. Then she shrugged. “You have a guest,” she said instead, stroking my hair one last time. I groaned, she smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s family,” she reassured me. She rose and left and the door didn’t open before Clara, my cousin, entered the room.
I yelped because she still enjoyed startling people by teleporting.
It made for very good distraction, though.
Clara grinned, falling on the bed beside me. Her amusement waned a little as she noticed my blotchy, tear-stained face. “It’s good to see you,” I said to avoid her pity.
“I hurried to come here but I couldn’t make it to your concert,” Clara replied.
“Too short notice,” I agreed. Her teleporting made it easier to see Clara than my other relatives who lived in Montfort. As her assistant, Clara also accompanied her mother the general on her travels that often meant my parents and Aunt Diana met frequently.
I remembered when Clara and Diana had glared at each other one time when they spoke of Clara’s choice to became a soldier. They hadn’t needed many words, and even I understood them.
You could be anything, Diana’s frown said.
But I choose this, Clara’s lifted chin retorted.
Today, Clara still wore her uniform as we chatted. Usually, she changed into frilly dresses as fast as possible. She’d really hurried and I felt a pang of love for her. My tall and beautiful cousin of 22 was so cool.
She blew a curl out of her face. “You haven’t heard the best yet,” she said. “You know that Ada Wallace left the Harbor Bay government?”
“After like … 20 years?” Ada was – had been – the senator of the region and the partner of Clara’s mom.
Clara nodded. “It was quite hard for Mama and Ada to have a distance relationship but they made it work.” Her serious tone shifted into a wide smile. “We dined together two days ago, to celebrate Ada’s resign – or so I thought.” Clara beamed now. “But then, Ada proposed.”
“No!” I exclaimed.
“Sure! It was the most romantic thing. ‘We served freedom and our countries all this time, you there, me here. Now I’ve done all I could for Harbor Bay, I want to be with you. Always.’ Aww. I cried. Mama cried! And Ada was beyond elated, you should’ve seen her.”
“Damn,” I whispered. “I’ll have to congratulate them.”
Clara tilted her head. “You will, you will. At the wedding the latest.”
“Sure,” I said quietly, again rather uncertain of my future.
Clara played with a tress of my hair. “I expect you to play the waltz, Coriane.”
I took a deep breath. I knew where this was going. My life would continue no matter what.
I’d keep playing the violin. And wearing my lovely green dress, I’d celebrate the hell out of my aunt’s private wedding feast.
“Absolutely,” I promised.
I chose for what I burned.
A/N: The story should speak for itself, but if any of you tag this with “coriane calore”, please don’t ever read one of my stories again.
@merrymareshmallow @farleydiana @lilyharvord @goldfincheli @avid-author-activist @redqueenfandom @petergrantkavinsky @elliemarchetti @redqueenetwork @blairistired @inopinion @maudthebookeater @scxrletguardsdawn @loveverygalaxybouquetstuff
#red queen#red queen secret santa#marecal#coriane barrow-calore#shade barrow-calore#cal calore#mare barrow#victoria aveyard#rqss19#redqueenetwork#redqueennet#a melody and a flame#red queen one-shots#red queen one-shot#clara farley-barrow#diana farley#fada#ada wallace#i imagined coriane as autistic and gave her many of my feelings
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I’m Glad You’re Okay
I’m just going to post my Wattpad imagines here one by one...
You and (C/N) both play in an orchestra here. I put (C/N)'s instrument as oboe and you play a string instrument, if that's not the case feel free to change it!
Word count: 1823
(C/N) = crush's name
(Y/N) = your name
(C/E/C) = crush's eye color
(Co/N) = conductor's name
You let out a sigh of relief, walking out of the classroom of your third musical activity today. You didn't understand why they all had to be on the same day. Theory, instrument and orchestra. It was Saturday, and you just had a one hour theory class, one hour instrument class and a three hour orchestra rehearsal, and in two hours you had a concert. Thankfully you had breaks of half an hour each in between, else you don't think you would have survived the first time.
You zoned out while walking, thinking about your day when you heard a pained cry. Without a second thought you walked as quickly as you could over to where you thought the cry came from. You heard footsteps running away, probably because they heard you coming. Your black heels clicked as you walked, and soon you found out who was in trouble. You gasped at the sight.
A boy sat on the floor, head leaning against the wall behind him as if he didn't have any energy left. His eyes were closed, and you noticed bruises beginning to form on his face. Then you realized; it was (C/N), your crush from orchestra. His chest was rising up and down, which was a relief, he was alive. What worried you however, was not only the sight of those bruises, which you were sure he had all over his body by now, but also the small specks of red dotting his white dress shirt. You tried to stay levelheaded, not wanting to panic, but you were sure that it was blood, his blood.
You knelt down next to him, heart beating faster. Whether it was out of concern for him or simply being near him, you didn't know and you didn't care. You placed your hand on his cheek, your touch light as a feather, but he still flinched away from your touch.
'No more- please, I'm sorry...' His voice came out barely more than a whisper. You could almost feel your heart shatter at his tone. At least he was conscious, but still, he probably needed medical attention...
'Hey, (C/N), it's me, (Y/N).' You spoke softly, not wanting to scare him. His (C/E/C) eyes flew open at your voice.
'(Y/N), what are you doing here?' Your chest hurt physically at hearing his defeated tone, as if he didn't expect anyone to come help him. 'How long was he suffering?' You wondered. 'And what happened to him? As far as I know, he doesn't get bullied...'
'Shhh, I'm here to help. Do you want to see (Co/N)?' He shook his head slightly, wincing at the pain shooting through his neck. You let out a worried sigh. You had two siblings, so you knew more or less how to handle small accidents, but firstly you didn't know how serious it was, and secondly you didn't want to leave him alone in case they came back.
'Look, (C/N), I have to go get some things to help you. Do you think they're gonna come back?' You asked him.
He shook his head again weakly, saying, 'You know them, they were just in a bad mood and I was unlucky enough to run into them. They would have taken it out on anyone, I'm not usually their victim.'
'Alright then, stay here. I'm going to see if I can get some supplies to take care of you. I'll leave my things here, hopefully that'll deter them from coming back.' You smiled at him reassuringly before standing and walking off as fast as you could in your heels. You looked for (Co/N), relief washing over you when you found them. A quick explanation sufficed to enlighten them about the situation, and they immediately left, coming back in less than two minutes with an ice pack and a first aid kit. You thanked them before making your way back to (C/N).
Approaching the spot where you left the boy, you heard angry voices, and it sounded like they were in a bit of a skirmish. You walked down the hall faster in alarm, and the sight you saw upon turning the corner this time made you even angrier. The four bullies- three boys and a girl- who had gained a notorious reputation for themselves in your neighborhood stood over him, mocking him, punctuating each insult with a punch or a kick. They all had some scratches or bruises on themselves, which meant that (C/N) must have defended himself before they overwhelmed him.
'Hey, you there! What are you doing?' You called, placing everything you were holding down and announcing your presence. All heads turned towards you. You wore a ticked off expression, crossing your arms. The girl came to stand before you, leaning over so that you could feel her breath.
'Now listen honey, this isn't any of your business. So how about you get outta here and don't tell anyone about this.' You knew she wanted to intimidate you, so you steeled yourself, keeping your expression neutral.
'No thanks, honey. You see, I would much rather you leave him alone.' You were surprised at how your voice didn't quiver, but you didn't let your expression waver. The males in their little clique stepped forward, not afraid to make you leave forcefully if they had to.
'I'll give you two options. One. You all leave calmly this very instant and leave (C/N) alone. The alternative is that I call (Co/N). Or on second thought, maybe the police. I'm not sure how lightly they take physical assault.' You grabbed your phone, pretending to enter the number of your local police station.
The girl growled, shoving you aside while passing. The others did the same, the last one taking it a step further and shoving you against the wall, growling, 'We're gonna get you for this.'
You didn't know how to react, but kept your face stoic. He let you go, rejoining his companions. Only then did you dare breathe a sigh of relief.
'Did they hurt you?' You asked gently, helping (C/N) sit against the wall once more. He flinched involuntarily at your touch, grunting softly.
'Don't worry, (Y/N).' Well, that's what he said, but you could see it in his eyes, and your heart broke a little more at the thought of them hurting him even more than they already had. It made you want to wrap him up in a blanket, keep him safe and never let anyone else near him again.
You pressed the ice pack against his cheek. He winced at the cold temperature but didn't protest. He held it against his face himself while you unbuttoned his shirt. With his permission, of course.
Thankfully other than a few cuts and a lot of bruises he was fine, and you buttoned up his shirt again, though you were adamant on his not participating in the concert. Thankfully he didn't mind missing it. You decided to stay with him, partly to take care of him and partly to enforce your threat.
'But (Y/N), you've been looking forward to the concert for months. You love concerts,' (C/N) protested.
'I know, but you're more important. It's okay, really. There'll always be other concerts.' You reassured him. You grabbed your phone. 'I'll call (Co/N) now and tell him we're not coming.'
You dialed the number, standing a short distance away to call. (Co/N) expected it, already having found a replacement for (C/N), since he was the lead oboist. Since you sat among the string instruments, there was no need for a replacement for you.
'There, all settled. Do you want to stay here or would you rather go somewhere more comfortable?' You asked, taking the ice pack from him so you could check if it was swollen.
'I'd rather stay here.' He mumbled.
'Okay.' You rummaged in your bag for a moment, pulling out a pack of cookies, handing them to (C/N). 'Here, you should eat.'
'Thanks, (Y/N).' He smiled at you, taking a cookie. You wondered if you should call his parents to inform them of the incident. You voiced the question to (C/N) and he shook his head.
'They'll come later for the concert anyway. We can tell them then.'
You agreed, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence, you occasionally checking on his bruises and holding the ice pack for him, while he laughed, insisting he could do it himself. You talked about random things, telling stories, and having fun, to the point that you lost track of time. When you next glanced down at your watch, you noticed that the concert had nearly ended, so you helped (C/N) up and you two made your way to the reception hall to wait for his parents.
Soon enough the doors opened and people came flooding out. You and (C/N) waited to see if anyone would recognize him and approach you two. After a while of watching people pass by, (C/N) pointed out a couple worriedly talking among themselves, so you made your way towards them.
'(C/N), honey, what happened?' The woman, his mother, asked, her hand flying to her mouth. You explained the incident that took place, and by the time you were finished, his dad was practically fuming.
'I swear, I'm going to call their parents right this instant! I've got half a mind to press charges, too!' He walked off to stand a bit further away, pacing back and forth while holding his phone to his ear. His mother inspected the bruises on his face, and you could almost see the concern growing in her eyes.
'Come, honey, as soon as your dad has finished yelling at those parents, we're going home. You need rest and a new ice pack.'
(C/N) proceeded to tell her about how you had helped him, and how you stood up to the infamous bullies in order for them to leave him alone. You blushed, in your opinion he was exaggerating, though deep down you knew that it was not such a little thing. His mother thanked you for taking care of him, and you replied that you didn't even consider leaving him there. You almost told her exactly how much you cared for him, but you caught yourself at the last moment.
The dad returned, and the family turned to leave when you spoke up.
'(C/N)?'
He turned back towards you, and before you knew it you were hugging him, mindful of his bruises.
'I'm glad you're okay.' You said. He hugged you back, smiling softly.
'Thanks to you I am.' He replied, pulling away when his mom called him. 'I'll see you next week, okay?'
'Okay, see ya, (C/N).' You waved after him as he left before going to look for your own parents.
I honestly don't know where this idea came from. I put (C/N)'s instrument as oboe because my crush plays lead oboe in my orchestra, while I'm just another girl in the sea of violins..
I hope you enjoyed!
#crushes#crushimagines#crushxreader#crushxyou#femalereader#xreader#hurt#crush fluff#crush oneshot#love#romance#oneshot
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Dino Rant (Nov 27 + Other Side Tales)
My siblings are currently mad at me. Here’s what went down. Tagging: @akaskira @ce-la @caratheillustrious Who are all practically my spiritual online older sister/sage advice givers and @lizard-in-the-rain who can be an idiot along with me.
For context: Ate = Sister Kuya = Brother * My dad and I have a rocky past because he’s very old-fashioned, hasn’t been always supportive about my mental health, and is really old and out of date (especially about LGBTQ, feminism, HK protests, etc.) * My sister also has a rocky past with me but has since calmed down a little thanks to old age (she’s 23) * My brother is constantly busy with school (and stressed), is still mourning his breakup after a few months which continues to salt his wounds (not because his ex is crappy but she’s really nice. He’s having a bit of trouble still.), and is a very sensitive person (more sensitive than my sister)
Further in, you can see what happened at the orchestra concert on Saturday. For context, you can check out a previous rant.
Me: Dad got some bad oil burns. I was in the family room as he was yelling “[MOM NAME x 3] WHAT DO I DO WITH OIL BURNS?” Mom was upstairs and didn’t hear They are kinda big He’s upset
Ate: What the why didn't you help him call mom???? did you??? yike oil burns are no joke bc they hurt for longer bc water just steams away but oil sticks and keeps burning and the scars are worse
Me: Uh... I was scrolling on tumblr? I don’t know. I thought he already put ice.
Ate: smh
Me: But looking back, I heard the water running for less than a minute.
Ate: LOL
Me: And never heard the freezer open
Ate: water won't help unless you use soap anyways
Me: So I thought he did that but he was really just yelling for mom He didn’t even ice it. He said he ran some water over it.
Ate: make sure you help if someone yells for help next time even if you think it's handled bc if a person is panicking/in pain they're likely not thinking straight to help themselves speaking from experience
Me: Mom tried to give him advice now and he just walked away going “uh huh”
Ate: even I know to put my hand under cold running water and ice it but I've definitely not done that when I've burnt myself before I would be pretty choked too if there were 2 other people in the house and neither of them came to help me when I got oil burns
Me: Mom was upstairs and couldn’t hear. I thought he was crying wolf as usual.He yells for mom around three times on a daily basis
Ate: fair but fr next time take the 5 seconds to check bc sometimes bad things happenesp if all you hear is a thud
Me: “[Mom Name x 3 again] I CANT FIND THE [blank]!!!” Mom: it’s been in the same spot for over a decade. Look with your eyes.
Me: Mom does that once every other day (has a big thud) usually because something broke. When I heard the yell this time, I thought it was because he knocked something over. Dad is always yelling He even asked mom how to make the rice And didn’t make it because she didn’t answer fast enough Dad is a drama queen. That’s where we all get it from.
Ate: I mean
Kuya: Tf is this situation How can you ignore someone in need of help Regardless of who it is Doesn't it hurt to see someone suffering
Me: I didn’t see anything
Kuya: Unless you hold extreme animosity Like they killed your mom or something I have to hand something in by 10 But I find this quite upsetting
Me: I didn’t see anything, and the last thing he yelled was an oil burn, and the only advice I had was water and ice which I thought he already did.
Me (in response to animosity): Not extreme, but living with him with only me as the child has screwed a lot of things up.It has taken a toll on my sympathy for people (or whatever is left)
Ate: Same but he's still our dad?
Me: Eh, I honestly thought it was a small thing until I saw it.
Ate: I have only shreds of respect for him left but idk if I would go as far as to just overlook "oil burn" and figure "oh, I can't help so I'll ignore him" like that's a lil funny
Me: Again, when someone is constantly yelling, there’s a point where you don’t listen fully to what they’re saying. It only registered later that his burns might actually be serious and more than putting your fingertip on a hot pan. I also have little sympathy due to how he’s treated me during my past situations so honestly, I’ve little tolerance.
Afterwards, my mom called my sister who was absolutely hysterical and screaming on the other line to the point where my mom had to pull the phone away from her ear.
________________
Some Stupid Orchestra Stories:
Things I have said to my orchestra cohorts that might’ve scared them:
*sees me bump my instrument* Trumpet: Ouch Me (walking away): Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches, and dead men tell no tales. Doug: What?
*sees me bump my bow* Doug: Ouch Me (tired because I was just excluded from the conversation today because no one would listen to what I had to say): I’m going to stab you Doug: Pat, protect me!
Me: *tells anything about school* Everyone: MAJOR CONCERN (Examples: Kid said that this guy could have sex with his friend before she turned 21 by slipping a drug into her drink, kid saying he was going to hit a girl with a metal bar from the desk, kids smoking out back, kids make noise downstairs which causes the room I work in to shake, kids throwing stuff out car windows, kids brawling, my science teacher from regular school failing me for practically no reason)
More of an annoying incident from me: Hannah: Who’re you messaging? Your girlfriend? Sean: Yeah Me: YOU’RE STILL TOGETHER?! Sean: (sheepishly) yeah
To be fair, I get weirded out whenever they flash their privilege as semi-well off rich kids. “Remember those special trips you get to take with your school to learn more about science? // Remember those international trips you take with your school club?” Me: ...no?! I’m not poor, I just dropped out of school before I could even go to my nearest McDonalds for a field trip.
But Doug is a little dumb sometimes. He doesn’t get my sense of humour (understandable), but he’s a little ignorant towards not-privileged people.
He literally said he goes to sleep at 9:30pm, got into university (this is a semi-prestigious one) first try with 90s in all of his classes (at least), has a girlfriend, has friends, and doesn’t understand why anyone would stay later than that unless they had poor time management. His words, not mine. My brother stays there until around 12am studying. He was not happy to hear that. Doug is first year so my siblings are making fun of him saying he will perish in a year’s time. My parents saw him stealing kisses from his girlfriend in a parking lot during the day of our last concert. I seriously though the girl in his profile picture was his sister and not his girlfriend because they were both seriously white. Whiter than a bowl of milk I tell you.
He also doesn’t know what a period app would be for. I was a little annoyed. My brother knows about this well enough because we all know my sister and mom would not let anyone in this family live if they did not know the ins-and-outs of a period. Doug was like, “Why would you need to track that?” I responded, “Because they’re irregular.” He looked a little puzzled and I said, “Douglas, you’re a science major. There’s sex ed in school.” He responded that he is going into research (not sure what that has to do with menstrual ignorance) and never paid attention during sex ed (since it’s never for marks). I then got a little more pushy and said, “Well, if you ever want a girlfriend, maybe you should learn.” To which he said, “I have a girlfriend”. To which I gave him a look of:
Stories from the orchestra concert:
I did tell the bass instructor about this so maybe it’ll get sorted out but I did this “tell the teacher” thing twice where it backfired terribly. Let’s hope university kids are a little more grown up.
My messages from that night: Pat told me it was cute when I played in the wrong spots. It was genuine like she said it was cute. But it was like ??? I was having a panic attack. My brain left my body. I don’t want to play anymore. Then she put up her bow to make sure I wouldn’t flip the page Then she hit her bow on her bass. I really don’t want to play anymore. (She also repeated the same thing twice knowing from a previous talk that I have bad anxiety. She has anxiety as well.)
Me: Then Hannah and Patricia were commenting on my shoes. I like wearing my orthotics. They make my feet feel not in pain. Ate: tell them that Me: I did They told me to take off my shoes “They can’t even see my feet” I’m all the way in the back behind people “Then take off your shoes” “But then I’ll be in pain” “But you sit” (I have one foot on the ground) “So take them off. It’s for dress code. People can see you” Ate: but it's literally a medical thing Tell them to actually fuck off hoh my god it's like asking a blind person to put their stick away bc people will trip on it or that you can't have your service dog with you like????
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209.
Are you a mean drunk? >> Not unless I also happen to have sensory overload or something else that overrides my ability to be sanguine.
Do you listen to a lot of mainstream music? >> Sure, I suppose. To be honest, I’m not sure what qualifies as “mainstream” anymore; I feel like it used to be a lot easier to make that divide.
Do you think you're pretty? >> That’s not the word I’d use, personally.
Have you ever been in a long distance relationship? >> Yes.
Do you go clubbing? >> No.
Are you a hopeless romantic? >> Not unless it’s on behalf of fictional characters.
When do you have to wake up tomorrow? >> Whenever I damn well please.
Do you think Ludacris is ugly? >> No.
Do you fit any stereotype? >> Yeah, probably. Shoving people into stereotypes is kind of an art form amongst us as people, so I imagine it wouldn’t be difficult to do it to me.
Do you associate songs with memories? >> Yeah, the things I remember best usually have songs attached to them to help the memory persist.
What's the weather like where you live? >> Right now? Snowy. :|
What's your opinion of Lady Gaga? >> I like her music.
Do you appreciate raunchy humor? >> Sometimes.
Do you ever listen to Lily Allen? >> No.
Have you ever been racist? >> I’m sure I have.
Have you ever added someone you don't know on Facebook? >> No.
Do you make playlists? >> I have a couple on Spotify but I rarely do anything with them. Except for the Shower playlist, because obviously I use that when I shower.
What's your worst feature? >> *shrug*
Have you ever kept a diary? >> I’ve kept quite a few.
Do you actually use your calendar? >> I don’t have a [paper] calendar.
Do you have dirty pictures in your phone? >> No.
Have you ever looked up porn on the internet? >> Yes.
Are you an angry person? >> Yeah, I’m pretty angry about some things. Mostly it manifests as depression, because I’m not really aggressive by nature.
Are you close with your family? >> ---
What kind of music do you listen to when you're sad? >> Usually just stuff I like. I don’t necessarily gravitate towards sad-sounding music.
Do you like hippie jewlery? >> Uh.
Have you ever used the word "groovy"? >> Probably.
What are your grades like? >> ---
Have you ever watched the original british skins? >> No.
Do you like oreos? >> No. I do like crushed-up Oreo (the cookie part) in like McFlurries and shit. I like the texture.
Have you ever had a sex dream about someone you barely know? >> Most of my sex dreams have been about either celebrities or some NPC my brain made up for the purpose of the dream.
Were you a cute baby? >> I don’t know, probably.
Do you ever listen to angry girl music? >> Uh...
Would you ever shoot someone right in the face? >> Probably not.
Have you ever sold drugs? >> No. I mean, let’s be real, even if I had I probably wouldn’t tell the internet.
What color are your headphones? >> Black.
What are you like first thing in the morning? >> It depends on how I woke up.
Do you get crazy sex hair? >> No.
Do you download your music illegaly? >> Not anymore, I just use Spotify now. It’s easier.
Have you ever crashed a wedding? >> No.
Were you a blink 182 fan back in the day? >> No, I just liked a couple of songs.
Were you ugly in middle school? >> To me, I was.
Have you ever been to Boulder Colorado? >> No.
Do you rage against conformity? >> Not necessarily.
Have you ever yelled at a self check out machine? >> No. Sparrow does that sometimes, but they don’t really frustrate me.
Have you ever been shot? >> No.
Is everything going to be okay? >> I mean, yeah. Eventually we’ll be dead, which automatically means we’ll not have anything else to worry about, so.
Are you stoned right now? >> No.
Do you listen to Sublime? >> I listen to two Sublime songs.
Has someone ever understood you more than your understood yourself? >> I don’t think so.
Are you on good terms with your parents? >> ---
Have you ever written a letter to Santa just for kicks? >> No.
What's your opinion on border control? >> I avoid forming yes/no opinions about complicated issues that I know I don’t understand the full extent of.
Do some people have way too much time on their hands? >> I don’t know, maybe. Depends on how they feel about it.
Do you ever drink 5 hour energy shots? >> I drank this ONCE and it was the most disgusting thing I’d ever tasted. ...It did work, though, I’ll say that much. But it really ain’t worth it for me.
Does country music ever make you cry? >> I don’t listen to enough of it to have had that experience.
Have you ever had a moment so wonderful it felt like magic? >> Yeah.
Have you ever snorted pixie sticks? >> Yeah, lmao.
Are you okay on your own? >> I am, generally.
Does your face twitch when you're about to cry? >> I don’t think so.
If heaven and hell are real, which one are you going to? >> Well, I don’t know. Because some doctrine says that if you’ve ever at all said the words “I accept Christ as lord and saviour”, then you’re perma-covered like some divinely good health insurance, and all your sins past present and future are forgiven and so on. And I did say those words as a child, because I was raised Christian... so even though I don’t consider myself Christian now, I wonder if there’s like a “no-takebacksies” kind of thing going on and St Peter would have to let me in the pearly gates regardless because of what I said when I was like eight. Or maybe another sect is right, and I’m going to Hell because [I’m a heathen/I’m queer/I don’t go to church/I say “goddamn” and “fuck” a lot]. Seems to me like it’s a crapshoot regardless.
Have you ever had a premonition? >> I don’t know, maybe.
Did you ever try cutting yourself? >> Yeah. Succeeded, too.
Do empty streets creep you out? >> Sometimes.
Have you ever seen your dad cry? >> No.
What's the last concert you went to? >> Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
Have you ever gotten sick of taking about yourself? >> No. Hence why I’m still taking these 10+ years later.
Could you ever be a therapist? >> No.
Have you ever made yourself throw up? >> Yeah.
Do you know someone who looks like one of the beach boys? >> I don’t know, I’m not sure what the Beach Boys even look like.
Are your nails currently painted pink or purple? >> No.
Do you adore mini sticky notes? >> Uh, no. I mean, they’re convenient and all, but I’m not in love with them or anything.
Do you have bad short term memory? >> Not spectacularly.
What's a song that will always give you the chills? >> I don’t know.
Have you had any major tragedies in your life? >> No.
What do you think of open casket funerals? >> I think they’re creepy as all hell-- not the “looking at a dead body” part, that makes sense to me, it’s just the painting-up of the dead body so they look... like they’re sleeping??? How does that help? I thought the point of viewing the body was to come to terms with the fact that said person is in fact dead and aid the grieving process. What purpose does the makeup serve? (I’m not terribly fond of the funeral industry in general, if that’s any indication.)
Are you bad at spelling? >> No.
Have you ever had a pet rat? >> No.
What do you binge on? >> Uh... nothing? I guess?
Do you want a cigarette right now? >> Nope.
Can you shake your ass? >> A bit.
Do you know someone named Dick? >> No.
Do you have a childish sense of humor? >> I don’t think so? I mean, maybe. I would laugh at silly things kids laugh at, but I don’t think that makes my humour childish, per se.
Do you like free samples? >> I mean, sure.
Are you a coupon fiend? >> No.
Who would you love to be with right now? >> Hm.
Could you go a year without sex? >> Yes, and longer besides.
Are you wearing any rings? >> No.
Are you homophobic? >> No, but I’ve done things that would be considered homophobic because I didn’t know any better at the time.
Do spiders make you jump around and squeal like a little girl? >> No.
Are you a sexist pig? >> No, but see the homophobia answer.
Have you screamed at anyone in the past week? >> No.
Do you have road rage? >> No.
Have you ever made yourself look like a fool for love? >> I don’t know, probably.
Did you ever see the harry potter movies on opening night? >> No.
Could you ever eat a worm? >> If I had a compelling enough reason to, sure.
Do you have low self esteem? >> Sometimes.
When you hang out with someone a lot do you start to pick up their habits? >> Some of them, yeah. It’s part of the whole masking thing-- mirroring is a masking cheat code.
Have you ever called your mom a bitch? >> ---
Do you have a cute laugh? >> I don’t know???
Do you write on your arms/hands? >> I used to, but I don’t have much reason to anymore.
Do you believe that you can get ink poisoning from that? >> No.
Do you think you're gonna sleep okay tonight? >> All one can do is hope.
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The Silence Between
A/n -- Partially based on this girl who’s learning to play violin. And also my daughter’s orchestra director (and at whose butt I have stared a number of times.)
“Hey, can I borrow you for a second?”
Tony dodged an oncoming woman, offspring in tow, and ended up flattened against the puke-green wall of Peter’s middle school hallway. “Oh, god, please don’t ask me to join the PTA.” Tony had managed to dodge that particular bullet for most of the year.
The man laughed, and it was such a bright, good humored sound that Tony actually looked at him.
He was, in a word, stunning. From the waves of rich brown hair to the storm-cloud eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and a mouth made for sin. He was also missing an arm.
Well, technically, not missing it, since he was holding up his prosthetic with the other hand. It wasn’t one of those mannequin-looking things, either, made for filling a sleeve and keeping people from noticing him. No, this prosthetic was made from high-carbon polymer, probably printed out on a 3D printer. It was almost the same grey as his eyes, except for the red star on the shoulder. Instead of a hand, there was a set of grippers.
Tony resisted the urge to put his hands on it, the thing was gorgeously done, and Tony recognized it. Stark Industries had made the code for dozens of different functional prosthetics and then made them available for free to anyone who had a printer.
And if someone didn’t have access to a printer, SI had a whole library of them where people could print whatever they wanted for the price of the ink.
“What happened?” Tony wondered if the man knew who he was. They’d managed to keep his adoption of Peter on the downlow, and he kept his original surname, so no one expected Tony Stark to be the father of Peter Parker.
“Just had a bump,” the man said. “The velcro came undone and I cain’t reach back there. Usually my care-- er, my assistant helps me with that sort of thing, but he had another commitment.”
“Oh, sure,” Tony said. The man was wearing a sleeveless shirt and the harness straps were easily visible. “Here, hold it in place.” He knew what to do, he’d designed the damn thing, and had the locking straps tugged into place and tightened in only a few minutes. “You need a snugger fit then that? You’ve got some good muscle tone here.” Tony ran a hand over the man’s shoulder. “Trapezoids are good, deltoids are good. Could use a little work here -- the dorsii? Try some twists, with the prosthetic elevated, like this?”
Tony started to demonstrate and discovered the man was staring at him. “Wow, what are you, a doctor?”
“Technically, I have three doctorates,” Tony said, “but none of them are in the medical field. I’m an engineer. Tony’s my name.” He offered the man his hand. The guy shifted and Tony could see the muscle in his jaw working as he operated the prosthetic. He only had about an inch or two past the armpit, so he was obviously using the muscles in his neck for the gross motor control.
“Bucky Barnes,” he said, clasping Tony’s hand in his right. The fingers were rough, almost as calloused as Tony’s.
“Dad! Dad-- oh, there you are!” Peter skidded up to him, throwing his backpack at Tony. “Hold my stuff, wouldja? I gotta get ready. Hi, Mr. Barnes. Bye, Mr. Barnes.”
“Parker, no running in the--” Peter was already around the corner.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Tony said.
“Good kid,” Mr. Barnes said. He’d introduced himself with a first name, but he was obviously one of Peter’s teachers, and Tony had a hard time thinking about teachers -- even completely hot ones -- by their first names.
“He’s getting by,” Tony said. Which was true. For as young as the kid was, Peter’d been through hell. First he’d lost his parents when he was a toddler, then his uncle when he was eight, and his aunt May three years ago.
“Anyway, thanks for the help,” Mr. Barnes said. “I need to--”
“Nice to meet you,” Tony said. “I’ve gotta--”
They managed to both talk at the same time, and then Barnes cracked a huge, glorious smile. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, clapped Tony on the shoulder, and walked off.
Tony shifted Peter’s stuff around and headed to the auditorium. He found a seat -- they were tiny, uncomfortable seats that squeaked like someone farting when he sat down -- and waited for the orchestra to come in. Peter was finishing his second year on the cello, and this was the school’s spring concert.
It was, in fact, soon, when Tony saw Mr. Barnes again. Barnes was the conductor.
He walked up onto a box in the center of the pit -- and really, was a teacher allowed to wear such tight pants that hugged every curve of his ass and thighs like a lover -- bowed to the audience, and then presented that glorious backside for Tony’s minute study.
For almost half an hour.
Toward the end of the show, one of the students brought out a case to Mr. Barnes. “And for our last number-- some of you may have noticed that I’m missing an arm. This kinda made it a little difficult for me to pursue my chosen profession as a concert violinist. And well, what they say is, those who can’t do… teach.”
Mr. Barnes waited for a laugh from the audience. Behind him, the kids were scrambling to pull out glowsticks? And attaching them to their bows?
“But this year, from some advanced technology given out for free by Stark Industries, I just wanted to add my instrument to the students’ orchestra. So, with my first chair violinist, Mary Jane Watson guest conducting… I give you, Star Wars.”
Mr. Barnes had his violin reversed, bow in his prosthetic hand, flowing a pretty red color, hand curled on the fingerboard. The lights dimmed and each kid had a glowing “lightsaber” for a bow.
And they began to play.
And it was beautiful.
When the music came to its final notes, Tony was not the only parent leaping to his feet to applaud. Mr. Barnes was quite talented, and he’d taught a whole group of eleven year olds to sound like they were born on Tatooine.
When Tony finally found Peter in the crowded hallway in the front of the building-- “That was so good, kid,” he told Peter. “You all sounded fantastic!”
“Thanks,” Peter said. “It’s my favorite song.”
“Mine, too.” And Tony found himself looking at Mr. Barnes. “I… I wanted to thank you,” Mr. Barnes continued.
“For the help? No problem.”
“No, I meant--” Mr. Barnes wiggled his arm around, displaying the gripper and how it rotated. “I… might have recognized you. You’ve got… no idea what you’ve done for me.”
“Mr. Barnes is going back to the orchestra next year,” Peter told Tony. “Not all the time, he’s still going to teach, but--”
“I can play, again,” Mr. Barnes said. “You’ve got no idea what that means. I’d… I’d like to buy you dinner, if you… if that’d be okay?”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Dinner as thank you, or--”
Mr. Barnes shrugged one shoulder, an endearing, lopsided gesture. “Or a date. But--”
“Yes, I’d love to.”
Just out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Peter giving Mr. Barnes the double thumbs up. Or, Bucky, as the case may be. Tony might have had trouble calling teachers by their first names, but he was pretty good at being informal with his dates.
#winteriron#tony x bucky#musicteacher!Bucky#parent!Tony#peter parker#violinist#parent teacher conferences takes on a whole new meaning#peter lowkey ships it#disabled fic
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Project: Labor Day 2018 — Melody of Raindrops
Melody of Raindrops
Author: @misfireezreal | TWITTER
Beta: @krzed
Word Count: 2292
Summary: Adrien heads to work with cold fingers, but by the time he gets home, they’re itching to play a song on the piano.
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Tags: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien Agreste, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Romance, Labor Day, Mylene, Chloe, Married!AU, Music Teacher!AU
It is a cold winter day when Adrien sets out for work. He leaves quietly, petting the kitten that follows him curiously to the door. He wears a simple coat, and warm clothing beneath it. His fingers are like ice because he forgot to bring gloves; he shoves his hands into his coat pockets, and gratefully takes a hand warmer from a woman handing them out on a corner street. Despite the cold, there is no snow: the sky is cloudy, but the sun peeks through as it rises to the east, showering Paris in pockets of golden light.
Adrien takes the metro, like everyone else, and the descent into the subway only makes the cold harsher. It is crowded, as usual at this hour, but Adrien doesn’t mind. He makes small talk with a middle-aged gentleman in a suit, talking about the chilly weather and the large morning crowd. Adrien ends the conversation to get onto his train, and offers his spot to a young girl dressed for school. He stands instead, enjoying the turns the train takes that make him strain his muscles to stay upright, to not tilt or fall. When he reaches his stop, he gets off and hurries to the surface, eager to escape the cold.
He reaches the building and sighs gratefully, and pulls his coat off when he reaches his office, hanging it on his chair. He hurries to the break room and grabs a warm cup of ginger tea. Tea, not coffee, because Mylène is pregnant and is always craving tea, and everyone wants to support her. She is chipper and bubbly this morning, and she and Adrien share stories about the students they share. They’re a small staff, these teachers at Collège Françoise Dupont, but Adrien loves them all, and he loves being a teacher.
When class starts, Adrien stands on a podium, looking across at his students. He reminds them of the concert they have in a week, and then he gives them a page and measure number and lifts his baton. For the rest of the class, he corrects the mistakes he hears and offers praise to the instrument sections who do well. They talk briefly about the upcoming concert, but Adrien gets side-tracked and tells them a story of his own band experience in lycée. Then the bell rings, and he bids his students farewell, reminding them to practice.
Adrien heads to the music theory room next to teach the students new to music, and he gives them a quiz on modal scales. The students are grumbly after, but Adrien has a way with words, and his smile is contagious, and by the end of class they are sad to see him leave.
His next class is with the advanced music theory students, and they all groan when he makes music puns. He hands back their homework and review the material they struggled with. Then he tells them to write the chords they hear, and plays a meme-y song. The kids nearly lose their minds, but when he leaves, Adrien knows the kids are wearing bright grins.
He has a free period now, and takes the time to grade as many of the quizzes as possible before the lunch break.
He heads outside, and Mylène, with a knowing smile, tells him to bring her back a melon tart. Adrien walks across the street and enters the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Tom and Sabine already have lunch waiting, and offer it on the house, as usual. Adrien sneakily slides the money into the tip jar anyways, and then takes the food upstairs, but not before asking Tom to set a melon tart aside for him.
Marinette is late arriving, and when she breezes into the kitchen, it is with a winded apology and an explanation on the tip of her lips. Adrien silences her with kisses to both of her cheeks, and leads her to sit with him. Nonetheless, she still feels the need to give a reason to her late timing.
“Chloe’s father came in to tailor his new tuxedo, and he’s always so talkative, so it took longer than it should have.” Marinette helps herself to the raspberry terrine, and Adrien moves to join her.
“It reminds you of where Chloe gets it from, doesn’t it?” he asks her with a grin, and Marinette smiles back.
“Chloe is tame in comparison.” Marinette picks out a slice of raspberry and eats it slowly. “Even she was getting frustrated with him.”
Adrien laughs. “I’m surprised she didn’t bully him into leaving earlier.”
“Oh, believe me, she tried.” Marinette shrugs. “But something came up in public relations, so she had to go deal with that. Leaving me with her dad for another half-hour.”
Adrien shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “What’s the tux for, anyways?”
Marinette let’s out an “mm” as she finishes off the terrine. Adrien polishes off the rest of his food as she answers. “It’s for the Achu consulate’s fifteen year anniversary.”
Adrien’s eyes grow wide. “Fifteen?” He groans. “We’re getting old, Marinette.”
“Growing old is fine when you’re doing what you love,” she replies. “Speaking of which… how did the students do on the quiz?” Marinette asks. Adrien smiles in spite of himself. She always remembers the little details he mentions off-handedly about his classes. It’s such a classic Marinette trait, but he never fails to be impressed or surprised by it. He shrugs.
“They weren’t happy, but from what I’ve graded, they’re doing well.”
“Of course they weren’t happy, kids never like quizzes.” Marinette laughs lightly. “I remember Madame Mendeleiev’s quizzes were brutal.”
“Especially when we spent the whole night before chasing down akuma,” Adrien says teasingly.
“I was chasing down akuma,” Marinette corrects, reaching across the table to shove playfully at his shoulder. His heartbeat picks up just a bit, and his grin grows slightly wider. “You were busy chasing after Ladybug.”
Ladybug. He thinks of summer nights, wind rushing through his hair, the way the city’s lights glow from a skyscraper’s roof. Deep black hair and sky blue eyes. It’s been over a decade since he first met Plagg, since his life changed forever. The kwami are long gone now, having fulfilled their duties and then some.
The only constant in the years since has been Marinette.
“Cats like to chase bugs,” he responds. “You’ve seen little Bugaboo when she catches a fly, haven’t you?”
Marinette makes a face, shaking her head. “I wish I could un-see it.”
They talk more through the rest of their lunch, sharing bits of their day so far and plans for the rest of it. They clean up and move to the couch, sitting comfortably side-by-side, and settle into contented silence while resting.
Then they hear hurried steps coming up the stairs. Marinette, drowsy, uncurls herself from the sofa arm, and Adrien turns his gaze away from gazing at her. Sabine ascends into view and steps towards her daughter.
“Have you lost track of time again, Marinette?” she asks, her tone warm and light and full of mirth, as though she’d been laughing before she reached them. “You’re going to be late back to the studio if you don’t leave now.”
Marinette gasps, and Adrien reaches across the table to place his hand reassuringly atop hers. “See you later,” he tells her. She squeezes his hand back, then nods to her mother.
“Thank you, Maman, and Adrien,” she says, and then Adrien feels her hand slip away as she hurries down the stairs. He watches until her high ponytail disappears from his sight, and then he sighs.
“She’s still exactly the same as she was when she was little,” Sabine says, fondness dripping in her words like honey. “All that’s changed is her hair!”
“And her signature is branded now,” Adrien adds. “Seeing her name on clothing tags always reminds me of the hat she made back in lycée.” He stands, stretching, and smiles at Sabine. “I should head back too.”
“Don’t forget the tart,” Sabine tells him. He nods, gathers his things, shoves his hands back into his coat pockets and against the hand warmers, and treks back across the street to the Collège Françoise Dupont. He delivers the tart to Mylène, who happily takes it from him, no doubt to indulge in on her free period. Adrien drops his coat off in his office, and then gathers his sheet music and heads to the music room.
His choral students are giggling about something or other when he arrives, and he joins in, obnoxiously tittering until they’ve dissolved into full-blown laughter. They go through their warm-ups, and then Adrien passes out the new scores of music they’ll perform at the next concert. They practice for a bit, then switch to their more familiar songs, and then back. It keeps the students on their toes, and Adrien is more than satisfied with their progress by the time class ends.
He bids them adieu and heads to the last class he’ll teach that day: band class. His students are bubbly, excited for the nearing end of the school day, but he reels them back in. They practice La Marseillaise and then move on to their concert pieces. They share the upcoming concert with the orchestra, and Adrien goes over the same __ details he did with the other class. They are halfway through perfecting a rhythmic issue when Adrien decides to give them a bit of a break. He stops them for a short rest, and eventually, the class discussion turns to him.
“Monsieur Agreste,” one student asks, “How old are you?” Adrien grins back.
“Too old,” he replies, eliciting chuckles from the students. “I was just talking about that earlier at lunch.”
“You’re not calling your wife old, are you?” One student called from behind a french horn.
Adrien faked a gasp. “Oh, no, I’ve committed a social gaffe!” He winks at them. “Don’t tell her. This is our little secret.” The students laugh and play along, and then Adrien calls them back to assemble. They finally nail the difficult rhythm section, and when the bell rings, Adrien proudly assures them that they’re almost concert-ready.
The next few hours are spent quietly in his office, sorting through homework assignments and grading quizzes and searching for new repertoire. Once he’s had enough of the paperwork, he puts the rest in his briefcase and dresses again for the cold. He heads out after dropping by the staff break room to say goodbye, and sinks into his shoulders as the cold hits him hard. He takes the metro, and walks briskly to his home, a condo tucked into a quieter part of the city.
Bugaboo greets Adrien as the door closes behind him, meowing loudly, and he picks her up to nuzzle with her. He puts her down to take his scarf and coat off, and grumbles a bit to himself as he sees his gloves discarded on the shelf by the coat rack. He makes a beeline for the comfortable lounge chair set by the window, and practically throws himself onto it, sighing loudly as he settles down. He isn’t Chat anymore, but he’s still just as much the cat, and he decides to bask in the evening sunlight streaming through the window. He only moves to make room for Bugaboo beside him.
Even when Marinette arrives an hour later, he’s still lounging there.
“Ooh, kittens, how cute!” She calls from the entryway. “Can I join you?”
“Sure,” Adrien replies, voice lazy. But he doesn’t scoot over, and so Marinette sits on him, giggling as he yelps. He concedes defeat after she threatens to lay down entirely, and relinquishes the spot to her. Bugaboo chirps at Marinette, purring and kneading her jeans. Adrien settles down at the piano bench, watching as Marinette pulls the cat to her chest to pet her.
His fingers start to tickle with an old memory, watching her there, and he turns to face the piano. He plunks out a few chords, tentatively, and then plays a cascading melody, sweet and gentle. It swells into something intimate, then turns to soft and beautiful, receding tenderly to its end. Adrien holds the last chord for just a bit, until he hears the overtones fall into place, and then he lifts his foot from the pedal.
For a few moments, the memory of the last chord echoes in the silence of the room. Then, Marinette speaks, breathlessly.
“That was gorgeous.”
Adrien turns back to look at her.
“Not as gorgeous as you,” he tells her. She holds her arms out to him, and he falls into her embrace. They hold each other close, and then Adrien pulls back to meet her eyes. “I remembered when we became friends, and this just… came to me, I guess.”
“It sounded like raindrops,” Marinette says. “I thought about it, too, when you were playing it.”
They hold each other for a little while longer, but then Bugaboo interrupts them with a whiny meowl, demanding dinner. Giggling, Marinette rises to grab her food, and Adrien stretches, then heads to the kitchen.
His first job, he thinks, was being a superhero. His career now is music, and teaching it to others. But they are both connected by this constant, the anchor to his world, the bridge to his past and present, and she is unspeakably captivating. She’s more than that, but he doesn’t have the words for it. He just knows Marinette is amazing, and her passion for her own career motivates him in his. They are meant for each other, in the same way melodies drip like raindrops, in the same way yin meets yang.
In the same way a cat likes to chase bugs.
#miraculous ladybug#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#adrienette#adrinette#project: labor day 2018#themlgroup
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It’s been a while since I last posted here, and for good reason. Musical took up most of my free time over the last couple of months, and then we had four fantastic shows - so many people have told us it was the best show in years. That was two weeks ago now. I’m only just about coming out from the post-show blues - it was worst the week after when I still had some medicine to do, but now I’ve had a week off uni (plus a spontaneous adventure on a Scottish island), I’ve been able to process all that’s happened.
My last long post was after weekend away in February. Since then, the intensity ramped up significantly. As well as having all-day rehearsals every Sunday, we had more arranging to do (I had to learn how to write drum and guitar parts, as well as doing scene-change music), as well as band rehearsals starting on top of everything else. It was hectic and stressful for a while, but it was honestly so, so worth it. We managed to make a great show, and we definitely pulled off what we were trying to achieve.
One of the most special moments was collaborating on the overture with MD. We decided to use music from the film of our show rather than a classic overture which would spoil all our tunes. I wrote the first part, which was a ‘straighter’, more classical version, and MD wrote the second part which was a jazz version of the same themes. It was a lot of work, but incredibly satisfying when it came together. We’re both so proud of it - it was a true collaboration and each of us had creative input into the other’s work: he gave me advice about the style of my parts while I helped him with the strings and some harmonies in his part. I’ll always cherish that score, with both our names side by side as the composers/arrangers.
MD and I got really close over the past few weeks. In the run-up to the show, we were seeing each other 3-4 times per week, and then every day in the last two weeks. We relied on each other, and we made such a brilliant team. I feel truly lucky to have worked with him. It’s rare that a creative partnership works so well - none of the previous MD teams in the time since we’ve been here has functioned quite as well as we did. Our strengths and weaknesses balance each other out, and we’re able to communicate so well, and give and receive constructive criticism and encouragement in a way the other person can hear. It’s been pretty special.
And, musically, we complemented each other so well. With him coming from a jazz background and me from a more classical one, we managed to get a great balance of tunes in the show: he was great at writing the jazzy tunes, and I made a decent effort at the more musical-y ones and the bits of film music we used for scene changes. We can confidently say that all instruments had their chance to shine and play interesting parts. Plus, with our contacts from both jazz and classical circles, we managed to assemble an epic set of people for our band. All our brass and rhythm played in the uni jazz band, and most of our string players played in the uni orchestras. We sounded so freaking good.
I know I mostly talk about music here (because that’s where I was involved), but I’ve got to give full credit to our directors, choreographers, writers, editors, stage managers, tech managers, producers, set design, and amazing cast for all their work. It was truly a team effort, and everyone brought their best to the project. I am so in awe of how talented my year is. Just the fact that we have so many strong singers - we had a great ensemble cast - blows my mind, and I don’t think there’s been a year while I’ve been here with so many great voices. Our script was also spot on and hilarious - our editors were ruthless, and it meant that each scene was paced right, and each joke landed. Our plot actually made sense. And, the dances were incredible. MD and I worked closest with the choreographers during rehearsals, and we saw how much effort they put into teaching and drilling chorus with their moves. But it looked so professional and fun by the end - hats off to them.
And now we have to return to real life. My next rotation is Urology. But we have a screening of the show next week to look forward to, at least. I think the thing I’ll miss most is regularly seeing all these wonderful people from my year, who I wouldn’t necessarily interact with otherwise. The musical really brought us all together.
As for MD and I, it’s been interesting, and I’m not quite sure what to think at this stage. We’ve built up a lot of mutual trust and respect over the past few weeks and months. He’s more open and vulnerable with me than he used to be, and I feel safe being myself with him. He encouraged and complimented my work regularly, and said how much he admired and appreciated me. I was able to be his rock and provide the support he needed over the last few weeks, picking up his slack and letting him do his thing. So, there’s definitely a deep friendship there and I hope that, at least, continues.
Is there anything more? It’s so hard to tell. There are certain things he’s said and done which gave me hope, but still nothing is concrete - he hasn’t explicitly asked me out yet.
- We’ve had lots of coffee together, and often had lunch together during rehearsals. Sometimes he would ask me to join him, sometimes I would ask him. Sometimes he would pay for me when I didn’t have cash and sometimes I paid for him (although he was always a bit uncomfortable with that, and said he would pay me back).
- One time when we went to get lunch together, a friend invited himself along. He had bought food at a different place, and so when MD and I went to pay, when the cashier asked if it was together or separately and I said separately, the other friend said ‘Oooh, is this the first date or second date?’ jokingly - and MD said ‘more like 500′.
- He always checked my opinion about things, whether it was on his song arrangements, or his conducting, or how best to plan rehearsals. Even during the shows, he would sometimes look at me to confirm that we weren’t supposed to play that song yet, or if he was going too slow etc. During the intervals, he would ask me for my comments on how it was going, or if there was anything he could do better.
- On the second night, his parents were there, and his mum came up to me and told me well done for all my work - when he saw me talking to his mother, he introduced me to both his mum and dad, saying that I wrote more of the music than he did, and anything beautiful/technically difficult was written by me.
- He started hugging me a lot. In all our time working together, the only time he hugged me was after he was on a high from his final jazz concert of the year. But, from the second show night onwards, he’s hugged me every time I saw him. Most of those were understandable in context - after our fabulous second show, after hugging his other (guy) friend to say goodbye when he was leaving, after the last show, after get-out when our time as an MD team had ended. But our final hug is what makes me feel like something changed - it was just after a casual lunch (I’ll elaborate later) and it was on a street corner where we had parted ways many times previously without hugging. Although maybe it was because we wouldn’t see each other for a couple weeks. But still - I had more hugs from him in the last week or so than in the entire previous year.
- One of my best friends (the only one who knows I like him) saw us interact together after the third show and texted me later ‘He definitely likes you! I can tell’.
- He always introduces me by my name and ‘position’, as in this is [symphony] who co-MD’d the musical. He’s never explicitly referred to me as just his ‘friend’. I think that’s a good thing?
- But perhaps the thing that gives me the most hope/is the most confusing is the gift he gave me on the last night. For context, my instrument case has slowly been falling apart over the last few months, but I didn’t have time to replace it. Now, at the final show, we were in a bit of a rush to get ready because we had a band meal beforehand. I went to get changed after warm-up and when I got back, my case had disappeared - one of the band members said MD had put it away backstage. Bit strange, because cases usually went in the cupboard under the seats in the auditorium, but I didn’t think too much of it. At the end of the final show, I had to put my instrument away. After saying bye to my family who had come, I went to find MD and asked where he had put my case. He said he would take me there. It took a while because we both kept being waylaid by cast/friends who wanted to say congratulations and how much they had enjoyed the show. All the while I was awkwardly holding my instrument, but praise is always nice and we were all on such a high so it was okay. Eventually MD and I reached the place where my case was. It was on some chairs, and I was about to grab it and put my instrument in, when he stopped me. Then, he reached under the chairs and pulled out a brand new case, much nicer than my old one. He told me, ‘someone as good as you shouldn’t have to carry that old thing’. I didn’t know how to react, and there was this odd look in his eyes. He was so serious, and it felt like a goodbye. I thought it was over at that point. I shoved down the feels for a while, and took the cases downstairs, but when I was putting my instrument away, I just had waves of emotion coming over me, thinking, ‘it’s over, it’s really over’. My feelings about the musical and MD were so intermingled, and I was overwhelmed. Some people from the cast/crew spotted me, and I told them that MD had just given me a new case. I don’t think they quite understood what it meant - they said he was very kind, but I deserved it after all the work I’d put in. But I was still processing it. I opened the case and it was so beautiful inside - I was still staring at it in a state of shock when MD returned. He asked if I liked it, and I said yeah, it was so much better than my old one. He could see the look on my face, and said ‘Come here...’ - I rather unceremoniously dumped the case on the ground and stood up, and he gave me a big hug. It just felt so final. From the way he was looking at me, he seemed to feel the same. I sat back down, slowly putting my instrument away, still overwhelmed, and he left me alone, to go talk to his family, and so I could gather myself. Later, I looked up the cost of the case, to see if I could get him a present (I hadn’t got him anything, to my embarrassment - it just didn’t cross my mind, with everything else going on). The case cost him £60, and this from a guy who chooses the cheaper lunch to save money. It is the most expensive present anyone who’s not family has ever given me. And, it was so thoughtful - it’s exactly what I needed, and so practical - he knows what I would appreciate. And now every time I play my violin it will remind me of him.
But, it did feel so final. It felt like a goodbye. Even at the afterparty, we didn’t spend much time talking one-on-one. There was sadness in his eyes when he looked at me, whenever we were on the brink of talking, but there were so many other people there, and music for dancing, and a mood of celebration with everyone else. Plus, his ex was there. And, one of the choreos who had a crush on him was always there when I was near him, so I didn’t get a chance to say much. But it did feel like he was more closed off than previously. I saw him glance at me a few times while I was dancing and he was talking to his best female friend (who’s good friends with his ex, so nothing can happen there). He looked kinda sad, and she was comforting him. But still, when I left the afterparty at 6am, it was with a heavy heart, feeling like it was over - both the musical, and my hopes with MD.
At get-out the next day, I tried to stay light. I was with my other friends - MD didn’t arrive until fairly late. When he did arrive, we finally got a chance to chat, briefly. We divided the scores - he had printed 2 copies of the overture we had collaborated on, then we each took the songs we had arranged. We had a little time to reflect on our time as the MD team, but his friends arrived too soon and it was over. He helped me put some of the lighting equipment into my car. There were a lot of emotions bubbling under the surface. But, his friends were there, so we couldn’t be as open as we had been. Finally, it was time to say goodbye. His best friend was standing by us at the time - we had a quick hug, and his friend commented that goodbyes were always a bit underwhelming. We were both feeling down and weary - I could see the sadness in his eyes again. But we were already a bit distant. I got into my car and left.
That evening, I had serious post-show blues, and I spent about an hour bed, crying. Emotional messages were flooding my phone from the production/rehearsal team and cast. I contributed one of my own. Eventually, I got up, and decided to give MD a proper thanks and goodbye, if only to give myself some closure. I sent him a very long message, saying how much I enjoyed working with him, how great a job we had done, how much fun I’d had, how great a team we were, and how much I’d miss it, and him specifically. He replied later that night, saying he agreed, and he didn’t know how to express how much he admired and appreciated me, commenting on my musicianship, commitment and enthusiasm. But it still felt weirdly formal. The one thing which kept a spark of hope for me was the last line - he said that we should make sure to keep in touch, beyond the screening and rehearsal team reunion dinner - he said we both liked coffee and talking about music so we should do that too. I still don’t quite know what to make of that. He clearly still wants to stay friends, at least, beyond the friendships formed with the other people on the team, which is something.
But he was about to leave to stay with his family, and then on a holiday abroad for a week, so I didn’t expect to see him for almost 3 weeks - a big shift from seeing each other almost every day previously. I was prepared to shut myself down again. Back at class with other people from the show, we all reminisced about how great it was, all processing together. When my friend asked ‘There wasn’t anything between you and MD, was there?’, I replied, ‘I don’t think so...’, and he said ‘...Just ‘cause you spent a lot of time together’. I think I was honest at the moment. There was what I was hoping, but also what I feared I was projecting. I’ve always been wrong about this sort of stuff in the past, so it’s safer for me to always assume there’s nothing there. But I couldn’t help but hold onto a tiny shred of hope. There was a photo of us as the MD team uploaded to Facebook, and it got more likes than any of the other photos of MD with other people, and it felt as though it validated who MD and I were with each other - someone commented ‘#dreamteam’. And that we certainly were. We always have that. And we’ll aways have those memories. Even if nothing more comes of it.
But.
But. On Friday, the last day before the holidays, MD put up a post saying that he was in the library for people to collect band shirts, if they were around. He had returned from his few days at home, and was in town just for the day before heading off on his holiday. Now, I happened to be on placement 5 minutes walk from the library, and it was on the way to my bus stop. We finished before lunch, and I found myself walking to the library. I needed an excuse to go in - then suddenly I remembered, of course, I need holiday reading! That’s something I had not done for a while because of musical - just reading books for fun. So I decided to grab some books, and it also gave me an excuse to go into the library. I gathered the courage (after 15 minutes of arguing with myself) to ask if he was still there, and he replied and said which floor he was on. So, I went and found him, and asked him if he wanted to come for lunch. I was weirdly nervous, and fumbled my words a bit, but he was gracious enough to let me recover my pride and explain my excuse for why I was in the library. Once we were outside, he asked where I wanted to go, and I realised I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But he was quick to suggest a place, and I let him take it from there.
And the funny thing is, we were so chill. After the first couple minutes, I relaxed. Conversation flowed easily between us, and he spoke openly to me again. He spoke about the work he was doing, about his relaxing time back home, and about what he wanted to do musically in the future. We did indeed have that music chat. (Now all we need is coffee...). And we barely even spoke about the musical. It did inevitably come up, but I think both of us were still a bit raw. But it was a relief that we still had stuff to talk about even when we weren’t talking about the musical. We spent about 45 minutes together, and it was relaxed. It settled my heart again. We felt open with each other again, which was what I was most worried about - in the past, people have cut me off suddenly. I was worried that once we didn’t have musical in common, our friendship/whatever this is would dissolve. But now, it looks like it won’t have to. I guess we’ll see, and that lunch replenished my hope. I could feel the undercurrent of caring had returned - we are two people who’ve gone through a lot together and built something great, and that’s a bond that’s not easily broken, wherever this thing goes. And I could feel that had returned. Perhaps it was the time he had spent at home, or perhaps he had made a decision about where he wants us to go, but whatever it is, we felt more settled. The sadness in his eyes had gone.
So, when we parted for a final time before the holiday week, it was with a sense of hope and new beginnings. We wished each other a good break, and knew we would see each other in 2 weeks. It didn’t have the sense of finality and loss of our last departure. It was more ‘til we meet again. There was a moment when we looked at each other before parting, unsure whether to hug, but then he stepped closer and went for it. Seems like we’re huggers now. Which I’m fine with. I hug like I mean it.
And then we parted.
And he looked back over his shoulder as he was walking away. He smiled at me, and I waved at him. It’s funny how the smallest of things keep the candle of hope burning.
I’ll see if he follows through on that coffee.
I hope he does.
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I wish you'd write a fic where...Bernard. Just Bernard. (and maybe a tongue-tied Clive who forgets how to human because he's in the presence of a beautiful chess goddess :)
Apparently I can’t even write a drabble without turning it into a 2000+ word fic. But thanks, friendo~ I had way too much fun with this.
Bernard and Clive have their first ever heart-to-heart.
Finally.
Bernard shut his Maths textbook with a satisfying whumph. Now that homework was out of theway, it was time for a bit of leisure reading before bedtime. He turned to hisbookshelf, scanning the top right corner where all his current reads were shelved.Gibson’s The Perception of the Visual World, a shorter work by Bandura onaggression and social cognitive theory, and a few of his father’s old issues ofthe Journal of the Chemical Society (nothis favorite subject, but several of the articles had caught his interest).
He stroked his chin, considering each in turn. It was adifficult choice, but he finally decided on Gibson. There was one chapter inparticular that had given him trouble the other day and he wanted to see ifcouldn’t straighten out what the old bloke was going on about.
Settling in the small crevice between his desk and hisdresser (a new reading spot that was surprisingly comfortable), he cracked openthe musty hard-cover to the page his tattered bookmark had saved.
He had just broken into the first sentence when anexcruciating sound flailed his ears.
Thud, thud.
Bernard swore. Never failed. At least it wasn’t coming fromthe ceiling this time.
“I heard that,” came the unruffled reply.
“Good.”
Bernard squeezed himself out from hisreading spot and opened the door. Clive was waiting for him on the other side.He wore casual clothes, layered, suitable for an evening made cool by the spring shower that had let up only that afternoon.
“What.”
“Are you ready?”
Bernard gazed blankly at him.
Clive’s eyelids dropped, hooding his eyes in apatheticannoyance.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
Forgot… A terrible dread writhed in Bernard’s stomach. Hispeaceful evening. Ruined. What had he forgotten? A meeting in the “secrethideout”? Some plan to break into a restricted area of the school? Spying onthe Patrol whilst they performed ridiculous rituals?
“The London Symphony Orchestra?”
Bernard shut his eyes. Even worse then he’d expected. But heremembered now. It had all been Gemma’s idea, of course. The London SymphonyOrchestra was holding a free concert in a park near the school that evening.Dreycott’s choir director had arranged for a bus to take any pupils who wereinterested in attending. When Gemma had found out, she had insisted they all gotogether. Something about doing more “fun” things together besides working onexposing the school’s layers of corruption and secrets. As if that wasn’tenough.
“Oh, that,” Bernard crossed his arms, “No. I changed mymind. I’m not going. I’ll weather Gemma’s wrath tomorrow.”
Despite the lingering threat of facing Gemma, he allowedhimself a small, smug smile. Nothing quite so satisfying as canceling one’splans and remaining a recluse for the evening.
“Gemma dropped out,” Clive said, “Emergency drama practice.”
“Oh? Good. Let’s all drop out, then.”
Clive hesitated, his hand moving to fiddle with his collar.Bernard prepared for the worst.
“It’s just…Amelia is rather keen on going now, I think.”
“Okay. Then you two go together. Problem solved.”
A look of panic crossed Clive’s face, as if a train wasbarreling down at him and his foot was caught in the track.
“Are you sure youdon’t want to come? You like the orchestra, don’t you?”
“Not especially.”
Why that pleading look in his eyes? Bernard had known Clivefor almost two years now, but he had never seen his friend look so desperately miserableas he did now.
“I know Amelia wanted you to come.”
Amelia. Clive’s eyes had darted to the side when he’d spokenher name and his collar-fiddling had increased slightly. He knew how to concealhis emotions well, but Bernard prided himself in his ability to read even themost guarded of persons. When he felt like it, anyway.
So. That was it. He was just needed as a sort of third wheelto keep the outing from becoming awkward. Or something. Which was ridiculous.Weren’t the two always off playing chess alone together? Why was cramming intothe back of a sweaty bus in order to cram into the back of a sweaty crowd tolisten to some strains of Mozart by musicians who knew they weren’t gettingpaid any different?
Bernard sighed. Clive was still looking at him with thoseoncoming-train eyes. If he wanted to keep his evening to himself, he’d either have to convincehis friend to stay or convince him to go. He would undoubtedly think it ungentlemanly tolet Amelia go by herself, so that left the other option.
“Come in,” Bernard said, turning on his heel.
“But what – ”
“Shut up and come in or I’ll charge double for my services.”
Clive followed him into the room and sat down on the edge ofhis bed, raising his eyebrows skeptically.
“Your services.”
“Yes. I’m going to diagnose your problem and offer suitablerecommendations for solving it.”
Bernard sat down at his desk, retrieving a notepad and pencil. If hewas honest, he and Clive mainly communicated through quips, insults,and their shared interests in reading and sarcasm. As muchas he hated to admit it, Clive was the closest thing he had to a brother, arather paltry wish he had given up on years ago. But they rarely talked about any problemsthey had. Not seriously anyway. Bernard wasn’t even sure he could carry on aconversation like that…what did they call it? A heart-to-heart. He shuddered.It sounded like some type of high-risk surgery.
Still. Clive was his friend and it was evident he need a bitof encouragement. Bernard had a feeling that even if he did decide to tagalong, Clive would remain miserable. There had been something between him and Amelia for awhile now. Something neither seemed capable or willing to properly address. Perhaps there was a way to save hisevening of leisure reading and ease Clive’s anxiety without sacrificing eitherof their dignity…or at least his own. He had to have a bit of fun along theway, after all.
“The bus leaves in five minutes,” Clive said, “And I don’t have a problem.”
“That’s all the time I need. And you do have a problem. Myanalysis of your sorry face tells me everything.”
Clive closed his eyes.
“Why do you do this?”
“To torture you. Also, to help you using the latest in clinical psychology. Now, what are your symptoms? Particularly when you’re around Amelia.”
“I don’t know. This is ridiculous.”
“Answer the question or I’ll have to pry it out of you usingunethical methods.”
“Unethical methods,” Clive cocked an eyebrow, “You’re threatening my life, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Now answer the question. You’ll feel better. Maybe. Probably not, but answer it anyway.”
Clive rubbed his forehead.
“I don’t know,” he sighed, “Sometimes nothing. I just feelnormal around her. But other times, it’s as if all the air is being sucked out of me,as if I’m screaming inside. Into the void of space. Or I wish I could besucked into space. One of the two.”
“Hm. Yes,” Bernard looked up with a professional frown, “It’s most definitely infatuation. Textbookexample. A horrible disease, really. But not without known treatment options.”
Clive’s furious blushing was all the evidence he needed.
“What? No. I – ”
“Shut up, please,” Bernard scribbled in his notebook. “Nowthe preferred treatment option is to become a hermit and avoid all humancontact for the remainder of your life.”
“Bernard – ”
“Or to remind yourself daily of the crushing weight of your own fragile and meaningless existence.”
“Okay, I get it.”
Clive sighed again, his creased brow and slash of a frown revealinga mixture of irritation and impatience.
Bernard stopped writing. Perhaps he really was no good atthis sort of thing.
“I’m kidding,” he rolled his pencil between his fingers.
What to say? Hisdiagnosis was only half the story. It wasn’t just a matter of infatuation.Clive and Amelia were friends. They’d been through a lot together this pastyear. Cared a great deal for one another.
He racked his brain for suitable words. Words that wouldn’tcome out biting and sharp as they usually did. Advice that could help and not simplyadd salt.
Think.
He’d fancied a girl in primary school once. But then she’dstuck gum in his hair when he tried teaching her what the word photosynthesismeant. No good. He continued to pick through the last fourteen years. Lookingfor something useful.
And then, out of countless gray memories, one took form that didn’t seem to relate to Clive’s problem at all. Old, but strangely luminous.
It was of when he and his parents had lived in that housenear the empty lot, overgrown with trees and sagging bushes. It had been abusy, and stressful, time for his parents, he recalled, when both had beenworking long days and longer nights at one of London’s biggest hospitals. Theyweren’t around much, but when he did see them they still smiled and talked andpoked fun at the other. And sometimes they would shove everything aside, allthe bills and paperwork and to-do-lists and go to that empty lot. His dad wouldlight a small fire in a homemade fire-pit, as if they were out in the middle ofthe woods, instead of the middle of London. It was most likely illegal, but noone was ever around to care. And then they would take turns reading to him, ashe was still too small to quite know how to do it himself.
Sometimes he would end up nearly asleep, curled up in the lap of oneor the other, but still alert enough to listen to their conversations.Sometimes they’d argue. Quietly. But other times they’d simply talk about howthe other’s day went. And that was enough to reassure him for the time being.
Clive stood.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll just tell her that – ”
“That you’ll go,” Bernard said, “I think you two should go. And I’m not just saying that because I want you to leave me alone.”
Clive’s brow creased, but he waited. Bernard shrugged, stillturning the memory in his mind. “Tomorrow we’ll all be back to being busy. Dry lectures. Bland food. Four-page essays. Exposing evil livingstatues. Better take a break while you can and, I don’t know, it’s good to gosomewhere for a while with someone. To check-up on each other and sharebeing miserable, even. To remind yourself that even though you hate most everyone, there’s still one or two or three people you can stand to be with.”
He was rambling. Why was he rambling? What was he evensaying? “I guess what I’m trying to say is, maybe you’ll look back and regret notspending more time with certain people if you’re only ever worried about things. And by the time you realize it – well…” He shruggedagain, “That’s it, then.”
Clive remained silent, rubbing his chin. Considering.
Bernard looked away. He never usually wished to take backwhat he said, but he did now. Because itwas stupid or because it was true? And if it was true, what did that make him?
There was a long pause before Clive finally spoke again, his voice quiet and thoughtful.
“I’d better go find her then, before the bus leaves.”
Bernard stood, feeling a bit disoriented.
“I’ll go with you. Make sure you don’t run away.”
Amelia was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps to the girls’dormitories. She wore a jumper with a white pawn stitched across the front, rain-boots, anda peach ribbon in her hair.
Bernard noticed Clive looked ready to pass out. He placed asteadying hand on his back.
Amelia smiled teasingly when she saw them.
“There you two are. Thought you might have gotten lost.Ready to go?”
“Yes, but Bernard’s decided to stay and read in his darkenedroom,” Clive said.
“Oh, so – ”
“Yes, just, er, just me and you, if that’s alright?”
“Oh, um – alright. I’m mean, yes, if it’s alrightwith you…”
Bernard looked between the two of them, blushing andstammering and fiddling with collars and hair, and wished he were blind anddeaf and living in Antarctica.
“Alright. Time to go. Get out of here now,” he said, shooingthem along.
Amelia waved.
“See you, Bernard.”
“Thanks, mate,” Clive said. He smiled, but his eyes were solemn.
Bernard nodded.
His friend’s smile shifted to a cheeky grin, “You know, you make a pretty good therapist.“
“I’m glad you think so,” he grumbled, “I expect my fees by tomorrow. One hundred quid per minute, so, that’ll be five-hundred, altogether.”
Clive’s grin faded.
Returning to his room, Bernard watched the two out the windowas they made their way towards the long drive where the bus stood idling in the pale dusk. They were laughing at something or other, dodging puddles, shoulders brushingnow and then. The bus honked and Amelia grabbed Clive’s hand, pulling him alongso he nearly tripped over his own clownish feet.
A tolerable match, Bernard decided, allowing a faint smile.He gave himself a mental pat on the back. His good deed was done for the week. Maybe it would make up for being a hypocrite.
Then again, he thought, as the stars came out, sometimes it’s necessary to be miserable alone, too.
With this in mind, he slipped back into his dark, dusty creviceand cracked open his book once more.
#professor layton#the lamplight letters#bernard trewinkle#clive dove#gemma mudget#amelia ruth#my art#ask
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It’s funny yesterday I told my sister that I was thinking about going to see more shows as I asked if she was thinking about going to see Christina Aguilera this weekend at the Hollywood Bowl, she said she was going to ask me the same thing so now we’re going.
I was thinking about it going back home because on the podcast I was listening to they were talking about concerts and live shows a bit and after I see Christina, I’ll have seen pretty much all the biggie female popstars (okay except the Spice Girls) of my teenage era of the late 90′s/early 00′s.
I briefly got to see Avril do “Complicated” when she opened for the Backstreet Boys. That was show was ridiculous, I think she played at the dot of 7:30 or not too long after because when we got into the Forum we could hear “I’m with You” almost ending and then I think her saying she was gonna do one last one. And we weren’t super late either. She was still great though.
I’ve seen Mandy Moore twice, should’ve went thrice when she was doing a residency like two or three years ago at some small venue in LA. But anyway, I saw at a TV taping after her third album came out in like 2001 or 2002, the one with In My Pocket. It’s still one of my favorite albums, legit it’s pop goodness. It has Cry, Turn the Clock Around, Crush and a bunch of other bangers. Then I went to see her at Amoeba in 2009, when she was promoting Amanda Leigh, it has “I Could Break Your Heart Any Day of the Week”. It’s more a singer/songwriter-y album, haven’t heard it in a while but I remember liking it. I got her autograph and it was cool meeting her. I forget what I said to her, it was either thanks (for the autograph) or thanks and that was great (something I usually say if I get an autograph after a show at Amoeba).
I’ve seen Jessica Simpson at a music venue but she didn’t perform, she was there watching Ashley Simpson (!), but I saw her in the back with Nick Lachey at I think the old Knitting Factory in Hollywood which doesn’t exist now and is probably a store or something. I think it was Ashley’s first show ever possibly, pretty sure it was briefly mentioned on their reality show back in the day.
Lastly, I’ve saw Britney at the height of when “older” people were like oh she’s lip syncing at her shows and stuff, I think even my dad was wondering why me and a dude friend of mine were going to see her since it was on the news that she lip-synced. I think I was like I bet she doesn’t lip sync the whole show plus me and my buddy liked the two albums she did at the time like from front to back, her first album, Baby One More Time and second album, Oops I Did It Again. Also, at the Forum! It was the best time to see her if you liked those albums because that’s all she did and I remember the crowd ate it up. I think that’s what I mostly remember because we were up high, not quite nosebleeds but a notch better than nosebleeds. The crowd was loud as hell, mostly because there were screaming girls like it was a Beatles show, and I remember having lots of fun, singing and bopping to all her songs. And she did I think a remix of Baby One More Time and then the lights went out and I’d never been to a show before so I was naively like is that it? And then like maybe ten minutes later, she shout up from below the stage and she was like “Oops I did it again” and went right into that song. And that’s when I went deaf prolly lol. I think me and my dude friend went nuts and screamed too. Pretty great way to go deaf though.
Anyways, that’s my little trip down music show memory lane, I’m so looking forward to Christina Aguilera at the Hollywood Bowl this Friday, she’s singing with an orchestra (!). Admittedly, I don’t really know her newer songs like I do her older ones I grew up with, I know that first album really well especially like the first six tracks, I’d love it if she’d do all those songs but she’s done a bunch of albums since then. I’ll be happy if she does Come On Over, I Turn to You, and Fighter. I figure she’ll do Genie in a Bottle, Reflections, probably not Dirrty but who knows, either way it should be fun!
#music memories#what im doing this friday#like idk any of her songs I think#and I'm fighting the urge to check em out on spotty so I can hear em fresh live#do it live
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To follow @auro-cyanide‘s excellent example, a year in review thing.
2017 hasn't been bad per se, but it's been grating for me personally and looking back at it now it's hard to remember that anything particularly positive happened. I gave up on a lot of things, both consciously and unconsciously, and the unconscious giving up has been kind of worrying. Anyway this is like that name-a-good-thing-that-happened-today exorcise, but for the whole year.
3 things I am proud of in 2017
I wrote/finished 250 pages of comic script to end my webcomic that way. It made me remember how fun writing is and gave me some newfound confidence in my ability to construct stories. Ending Rebound was sad, but ultimately good I think. Like, I'm at peace with it now and don't feel like I failed because I had to give up.
I actually made an effort to get better at talking to people and be more open about how I'm feeling even though social contact has been extremely difficult for me throughout most of the year.
I have been very frank about calling people out on their shitty behavior and multiple times it actually helped. Even got a couple of apologies, I can't remember the last time that happened.
3 challenges I faced in 2017
I had the worst mental breakdown I've had in years, had to go on sick leave for a month and I'm still dealing with the consequences of being unable to do much of anything for longer than that. However, afterwards my brain has been getting better than it has in years. Unfiltered by constant depression and/or light mania, being able to feel real emotions again is tough, though. I don't know if I have ever felt so lonely and aimless in my life. But.. it's okay I guess, real emotions are there for a reason and usually helpful.
I spent all year fighting the psychiatric sector and ultimately just gave up. I still haven't found a new psychiatrist. I... have talked about this enough.
I have been generally frustrated with my job, my own engagement and ability to keep up with things and focus. This isn't a story for the public internet.
3 things I experienced in 2017
I found out I had been slightly over-medicated for years and that was what was destroying my ability to think creatively. It's a relief to be back to something that resembles normalcy on that front.
I went on a bunch of excursions with @journeyofbell - Thanks, it's nice to have someone who's interested in the same weird things as me and you're one of those rare people I find it incredibly easy to talk to. You're cool and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!
I went to quite a lot of concerts which is something I love to do. Even got to see Oxbow play live, one of my favorite bands ever. Hans Zimmer + orchestra were amazing too! And AquaSonic!! Wow I almost forgot them.
3 things I’m considering for 2018
I just want to get started on the creative projects I've had in mind and hope I can kick my own ass in gear. Mini-comic, that game I've talked about, continuing to figure out not!Hellwalk...
Now that my foot isn't busted anymore I want to go to Iceland. If no one wants to come with me, maybe I should just go on my own.
I probably really should see about talking to a therapist again...
3 things I’m looking forward to in 2018
As sad as it is I don't have any plans whatsoever and nothing specific to look forward to. Uhh, I'll try...
I guess I'll finish paying off my student loan!
I hope I can do some more from-scratch taxidermy. My dad promised me a dead rat if they find any more at his workplace, ha. I still have that pigeon head in my freezer too...
Not a very personal thing, but wow I am so hyped for Pathologic 2.
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How to Outsmart Your Boss on best beginner piano
“THE more you dig right into a piece of Ives, the greater pleasure you receive from it,” the pianist Jeremy Denk said recently, sitting down at a piano inside of a rehearsal Area on the Juilliard University. “It’s like solving a puzzle.”
Then he enthusiastically deconstructed Ives’s “Concord” Sonata, untangling and conveying the themes and motifs embedded in the complex textures of this interesting rating.
Mr. Denk is about to launch a disc, “Jeremy Denk Performs Ives” (Believe Denk Media), showcasing two piano sonatas, an esoteric decision of repertory for just a debut solo album. But then, there's nothing generic relating to this adventurous musician. His vivacious intellect is manifest the two in his taking part in and on his blog site, Imagine Denk, an outlet for astute musical observations and witty musings, whether a lament about inedible meatballs or simply a spoof interview with Sarah Palin.
Mr. Denk will reveal his much more mainstream qualifications when he performs Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. one with Charles Dutoit and the Philadelphia Orchestra commencing on Thursday within the Kimmel Heart in Philadelphia and on Oct. twelve at Carnegie Hall.
Mr. Denk argues which the Ives sonatas, composed early inside the 20th century, are mistakenly categorized as avant-garde works rather then “epic Passionate sonatas with Lisztian thematic transformations.” Towards the casual listener, the music that Mr. Denk describes within the CD booklet as “fantastic, creative, tender, edgy, wild, first, witty, haunting” can definitely audio avant-garde. Ives, who designed his living in the insurance plan organization, integrated jazz, riffs on Beethoven and American hymns, marches and people songs into his daringly experimental piano sonatas, full of polytonality, thematic layering and rhythmic complexity.
“It’s so wonderfully in-your-facial area,” Mr. Denk explained, demonstrating a particularly maniacal passage inside the “Concord” Sonata. “It’s also fairly surprisingly unsightly. There is a thing maddening about his humorousness. Ives is repeatedly thumbing his nose at you in a means.”
But Mr. Denk suggests that Ives’s tenderness, which he illuminates fantastically Within this recording, is underappreciated. “Ives is usually about things recalled,” he claimed, “or Reminiscences or visions fetched outside of some complicated place.”
He performed the harmonically misty passages in the second motion with the “Concord,” exactly where Ives directs that a bit of Wooden be pressed over the higher keys to supply a cluster chord. “It doesn’t truly feel gimmicky in the least to me,” Mr. Denk said. “It’s all blues in the bottom. Ives understood the way to use All those minimal clichéd bits of Americana in a means that suddenly receives your intestine. You could’t consider how touching it is.”
Mr. Denk, 40, has actually been keen about Ives considering that his undergraduate times at Oberlin in Ohio, the place he carried a double significant in piano effectiveness and chemistry. “My entire double degree encounter was considerably of the continuous freakout of 1 type of A different,” he said.
He had been a “definitely nerdy highschool college student” with a confined social daily life, he reported. “At any time given that I had been a kid I wanted to head to Oberlin and required the liberal arts. Definitely I actually get intense enjoyment from drawing connections between parts and poems and literature and ideas.”
Mr. Denk described himself as a “practice maniac,” but his horizons have extended considerably past the observe place considering that Oberlin. Whilst nibbling an unlimited bit of chocolate product pie at an Upper West Facet diner close to the apartment he has rented since all around 1999, Mr. Denk referred to his site, contacting it “an surprisingly superior outlet to release tensions of 1 form or A further.” He said it experienced drawn new listeners to his concert events. An avid reader of liberal political blogs, Mr. Denk goals of creating a classical tunes Model of Wonkette, he mentioned, but that would be challenging to do with no offending persons. And he tries to prevent offending folks, he added, even though he did not long ago write-up a rant about plan notes.
Mr. Denk, who calls himself “an actual Francophile,” is soft-spoken but extreme, his discussion peppered with references to varied “obsessions”: coffee, Ives, Bach, Proust, Baudelaire and Emerson.
He went off on “a Balzac mania” a couple of years ago, he said.
“That was a dangerous time, and every little thing in everyday life seemed drawn outside of a Balzac novel,” he included. “I missing about 3 many years of my everyday living to Proust. I’m positive it transformed anything, which includes my participating in.
“At some point my manager was like, ‘Dude, You must deal with your occupation and getting your things collectively.’ ” At that time, Mr. Denk said, “I had been bringing Proust to conferences.” He additional: “I’m undecided I really had a profession route. I had been just carrying out my Strange point, which almost certainly gave the look of a disastrous nonroute to lots of the individuals who ended up viewing about me. I bear in mind some exasperated conferences with my administration, However they were being really patient and devoted, which I’m insanely grateful for.”
Mr. Denk grew up in Las Cruces, N.M., amongst two brothers, a son of songs-loving nonmusician dad and mom. His father, who has a doctorate in chemistry, continues to be (at unique periods) a Roman Catholic monk in addition to a director of computer science at New Mexico Point out University.
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Mr. Denk stays hooked on the chili peppers of Las Cruces, he claimed, seemingly only half joking: “The purple and also the green and The full spirituality of chili peppers. It’s continue to a massive Element of my daily life. After i go household I visit this real dive and obsess over their eco-friendly meat burrito.”
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When not on tour, Mr. Denk spends time with his boyfriend, Patrick Posey, a saxophonist and the director of orchestral things to do and setting up at Juilliard, wherever Mr. Denk obtained his doctorate, studying with Herbert Stessin. Mr. Stessin remembers getting been impressed by “the maturity and depth” of Mr. Denk’s enjoying and remembers him as “a unprecedented college student who absorbed items quite promptly.”
Mr. Denk claimed he “was at school endlessly” till “at some point I made a decision to belief my own instincts.” Now he teaches double-degree undergraduates at the Bard Higher education Conservatory of Tunes. The pianist Allegra Chapman, who researched with him, reported he was “worried about quite a bit a lot more than the notes to the site, usually citing literary and historical references.”
“Now I make an effort to approach songs inside of a extra holistic perspective,” she additional. “He is incredibly passionate. He accustomed to leap across the home and bounce about and wave his arms. It had been actually enjoyable. He tried to get me to look at the songs with a humorousness.”
This combination of passion, humor and intellect, so lively in both equally Mr. Denk’s participating in and his creating, is exactly what distinguishes him, in accordance with the violinist Joshua Bell. The two are standard duo partners since 2004, whenever they carried out for the Spoleto Competition USA.
“You obtain the mental musicians or people that use their coronary heart on their sleeve with out a great deal of musical believed,” Mr. Bell stated, “but Jeremy manages to accomplish equally, Which’s best. We have plenty of arguments in rehearsal, that's the enjoyable aspect at the same time. The fact we don’t generally see eye to eye keeps factors refreshing and can make me concern all the things I do.”
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Mr. Bell, whose decisions of repertory tend to be more typical than those of his extra adventurous colleague, mentioned he wasn’t usually an Ives fan: “With a good deal of recent music I’m just a little cautious. In spite of Ives, until finally I listened to Jeremy. He just brings it alive. He has this kind of an excellent imagination, and very little is done randomly.”
Ives’s piano sonatas, Mr. Denk said, “are in a means like animals that don’t want to be tamed.”
“Each functionality ought to be so various,” he added, just one explanation he was originally hesitant to document them. Like Bach, he said, Ives leaves lots for the performer’s creativity.
A great interpretation of your “Goldberg” Variations at Symphony Room in 2008 discovered Mr. Denk’s profound affinity with Bach. Mr. Denk will conduct the perform and Textbooks one and a pair of of Ligeti’s Études at Zankel Hall on Feb. sixteen.
To help keep the “Goldberg” Versions contemporary, Mr. Denk is incorporating new fingerings, he claimed, “to reactivate the connection concerning my brain and my fingers Once i’m actively playing it.”
“I believe it’s an actual magical position If you have the muscle memory,” he added, “even so the Mind is forward on the fingers.”
Shifting the fingerings is one way to stay away from schedule, he stated. “I get real enjoyment from creating in a really very good fingering. It's like relearning the piece, and it makes you not take any Notice with no consideration.”
The musical philosophy Mr. Denk applies to Bach, Ives together with other repertory is maybe very best summed up in that blog submit on application notes: “I’ve hardly ever been a huge fan from the ‘Think about how groundbreaking this piece was when it had been published’ faculty of inspiration. For my cash, it ought to be groundbreaking now. (And it really is.) Whatever else the composer might have meant, he / she didn’t want you to definitely Consider, ‘Boy, that must have already been awesome back then.’ The most simple compositional intent, absolutely the ur-intent, is that you Enjoy it now, you enable it to be materialize now.”
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please please do 66 with galaxy girls :0
66: “Is that a new perfume?”
i changed the prompt a little but oh well its basically the same
word count: 975
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Alana was certain that she was supposed to be doing some project right now, or some homework, or hell, even working on her resume, but she couldn’t drag her attention away from the entrancing girl that sat on her bed, strumming away at an well-worn guitar. She was humming, matching pitch with her guitar, and Alana found the melody gorgeous, wishing she could listen to it on repeat for the rest of her life. Jazz band, which Alana often stopped to listen to after debate club, ended early today, and that’s how Alana- in her own roundabout way of speaking- had invited none other than Zoe Murphy to come to her house until she could get a ride home.
Alana’s bike was used to extra weight, but she was very grateful it hadn’t collapsed under the weight of Zoe Murphy and her guitar case. It had taken some convincing to get Zoe to sit on her handlebars: she had almost called her dad and asked him to pick her up. Zoe almost fell multiple times, but they had made it too Alana’s house mostly unharmed, although the guitar was at risk of falling when Alana took a second look at the tethers.
“Why’d jazz band end early?” Alana asked, trying to pretend that she’d been doing homework instead of watching Zoe strum away at her guitar. Zoe looked up, her melody stopping.
“There was all-county band auditions today, and the director forgot to cancel jazz. Since I don’t play in the concert band, I didn’t audition, which meant that only me and a handful of kids who didn’t want to audition were there.” Zoe explained simply, her hands returned to her guitar, fingering a silent melody on the strings. Alana watched as she ran the music in her head, her tongue gently parting her lips in concentration. It was silent, and Alana hated the silence.
“That’s cool,” Alana cringed, not entirely sure where she was going with her sentence, “I mean, I was in all-county and all-district orchestra in freshman year, and I auditioned for all-state but never made it, and then I dropped out of orchestra because it conflicted with my Calculus class, and I was already arguing with the principal and trying to talk him into letting me test out of P.E., and I didn’t want another debate on my hands, and…” Alana stopped herself before she could continuing rambling, wondering just how many complete sentences her run-on phrase could be split into. She hated when she rambled, but something about Zoe Murphy made all of her anxious habits even worse.
“Oh,” Zoe replied, and Alana immediately knew she had blew it. Damn, she just wanted to hang out like a normal person and here she was, confusing the prettiest girl she had seen in awhile with her whirlwind of thoughts. “what’d you play?”
“Violin, and uh, piano on the side. I haven’t played in about two years though.” Alana admitted, pulling the hair tie out of her braided hair and letting the loose strands fall around her shoulders. Zoe smiled brightly, taking her hands off the neck of the guitar.
“Guitar and violin aren’t that different, y’know,” she paused, cocking her head and studying Alana with intense hazel eyes. Alana wondered what she was thinking, what gears were turning behind those beautiful eyes. “I’m pretty sure you could play if you knew how to finger notes.”
“Could you show me?” Alana asked. She hoped beyond hope that Zoe would nod, motion her over, put her hands on top of hers.
“Of course.” Zoe said without hesitation, patting the spot beside her on Alana’s bed. Alana would be embarrassed to admit it, but she lept alongside her heart at Zoe’s words. She restrained herself, carefully moving over and sitting next to Zoe. Zoe handed her the guitar hesitantly, and Alana held it the way she’d seen in photos, making a logical guess based on the more worn parts of the guitar from Zoe’s handling.
“Am I anywhere near correct?” she asked. A faint giggle escaped Zoe’s lips and she shook her head and positioned Alana’s hand’s on the guitar. Alana could barely breathe- Zoe Murphy’s hands, on top of her’s, gently guiding them to rest on certain strings. Alana couldn’t get over Zoe Murphy, the way her light brown hair hung loosely around her face, the way her eyes shimmered in the light, and mostly, the smell of Zoe Murphy, light and flowery and beautiful. It was different than what Alana was used to, for Zoe usually had more of a fruity perfume, although Alana couldn’t quite tell. She was embarrassed that she had even noticed in the first place.
“Now,” Zoe began, studying her hand position, “If you strum, it’ll make a chord.” Alana hesitantly ran her fingers over the strings, eliciting a noise from the guitar that slightly resembled what Zoe had tried to get her to play. Zoe nodded, smiling, before once again moving to reposition her fingers. Alana breathed deeply, trying to memorize every one of Zoe’s features.
“Did you get a new perfume?” the question slid between Alana’s lips before she could stop and censor herself. Zoe looked up at her, surprised.
“It is, actually. I ran out of my old one and had to use another.” Zoe stood abruptly, suddenly self conscious, “I can’t believe you actually noticed.” Alana laughed nervously, her heart fluttering. Zoe pulled her guitar away from Alana, sitting beside her and leaning the instrument carefully against the bed. Alana had to act now, she didn’t know if there would be another moment, another still in the conversation.
“Zoe?” Alana asked. Zoe looked at her, light eyes meeting rich dark ones, and nodded. “Wanna grab coffee sometime?”
“I’d love too.” Zoe smiled without hesitation, and Alana wished she could see that smile forever.
I
#i love my gay daughters#zolana#galaxy girls#zoe murphy#alana beck#dear evan hansen#evan hansen#connor murphy#jared kleinman#kleinsen#sincerely three#tree bros#the bird answers#hockendrabbles
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There are too many interesting things in the concert ask that I wanna answer so I’m doing them all. :^D
How many concerts have you been to? 28 so far.
Have you been to any festivals? Not any proper ones. I guess Paganfest was technically a festival, and same with Heavy Metal Heart, but they were small and indoors so idk.
Which artist/band have you seen the most live? Korpiklaani.
First concert you went to? My Chemical Romance.
Last concert you went to? Heavy Metal Heart 11 Day 2 (Winterthroned, Brymir, and Korpiklaani)
What is your next concert? Ensiferum.
Which artists/bands would you love to see live? Bands I wanna see again: Children of Bodom, Wintersun, Ensiferum, Korpiklaani (always), ALESTORM, BILLY TALENT, Iron Maiden, Nightwish, Arkona. Bands/Musicians I wanna see, period: AC/DC, Lady Gaga, Blackpink, Dalriada, Marina and the Diamonds, Nicki Minaj, The Pretty Reckless, WARMEN, That Poppy. And as I’ve said, I would have loved to see Michael Jackson, 2NE1, My Chemical Romance, Norther with Petri, Enska with Jari, and Tokio Hotel in the Scream or Humanoid era. Actually even Zimmer 483 era woulda been awesome.
The farthest you’ve traveled to go to a concert? Ehh... idk whether Guelph to Toronto or my current home town to Helsinki is a longer trip. The former took longer, but that could be coz of the bus route. I’m too lazy to look it up. Point is, I haven’t traveled very far at all for a concert.
Best opening act you’ve seen? Winterthroned wasn’t technically an opening act but they’re the only ones who come to mind. Eluveitie was pretty good, I guess. I liked them better live than I do otherwise (they opened for Bodom the first time I saw them).
Worst opening act you’ve seen? Whatever bands opened for Billy Talent the first time I saw them. I’ve never been a screamo fan, my dudes, and those headache-enducers did not help that fact.
Have you met any bands/artists at a concert? Not AT the concert, but afterwards, I’ve met all of Korpiklaani, Chris from Alestorm, Olli and Tuomas from Turisas, Masha and Vladimir from Arkona, and, if we’re counting the listening party, Teemu and Jukka from Wintersun.
What’s one thing you have to bring to a concert? Money to buy merch.
What’s the most you’ve paid for a ticket? $78 (Canadian) for the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. (Side note: I looked through my tickets for this question and I’m dying @ the prices I’ve paid for shows there holy fuck metal bands have spoiled me..........)
Best concert you’ve been to? Most concerts I’ve been to have been AWESOME, but my first show will always stand out because it was the first, and it was my favourite band, and it was at the height of my love for them, and I still refer to it as a spiritual experience coz, well, that’s what it felt like. I’ve never felt such a connection to a crowd since, I’ve never had music touch my heart that way since, I’ve never felt that passion and whirlwind of emotion and sheer awe since.
Worst concert you’ve been to? Honestly, probably the first time I saw Children of Bodom. Not because the band or set-up was bad or anything, but because I got pulled down into the pit,grabbed by assorted people, a drunk man put practically all his weight on me and tried to kiss me??? and I had to punch him to get away, I got separated from the people I was with, and I ended up having to spend the whole show near the back, not even able to see the band. And this is literally all I remember from the show!! What songs did they play? What antics did they get up to? HELL IF I KNOW!!
Have you been in a social media post an artist posted after a show? YEAH, since moving back to Finland and making sure to be in the front as often as possible I’ve found myself in loads of after-show pics on Facebook. :D Also, when I saw Ensiferum and Finntroll in Canada, I was mentioned in a Finnish newspaper in Toronto coz they could see my Finnish flag. B) Not social media, but still cool.
Funniest concert memory? The singer of Winterthroned asked if we wanted to hear a joke and we were like YEAH and he was like it’s a bad one and I yelled EVEN BETTER and he applauded me and told the joke: “What does it say at the bottom of a Swedish swimming pool? ... Smoking Prohibited.” ... which I found hilarious for some reason. And the whole thing was so random I was just like lolwat. There are probably funnier things I’ve seen but this is so recent it’s the first thing that came to mind.
Do you buy your tickets as soon as they go on sale, after, or the day of? As soon as possible if it’s a band I love, maybe later if I’m not sure whether I want to/can go, but I never the day of, I don’t wanna risk it being sold out.
Have you ever been noticed by an artist at a concert? Hahaa, yeah. The Finnish flag got me noticed at the Ensiferum and Finntroll show by almost everyone in both bands. I was also front-and-center the first time I saw Korpiklaani at a tiny club in Toronto, so it was kinda hard not to get noticed. I also kinda tugged on Jonne’s hair to get his attention, whoops. I apologized after the show, though. :^D And at Paganfest I was also front-and-center and when Alestorm was setting up I got a fist-bump from Chris!
Have you met any internet friends at a concert? Not yet... :0c
Which concert that you’ve been to has had the best stage setup/production? Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s set-up was pretty boss. MCR’s was definitely impressive when they were touring for the Black Parade, too. I don’t usually pay that much attention to that, since it’s rarely a big deal at the shows I go to. :P
Have you ever caught a guitar pick, drumstick, got a setlist, etc.? I got Finntroll’s setlist when I saw them, and I’ve got picks from Korpiklaani, My Chemical Romance, and Wintersun. Also, when I saw Billy Talent in Finland, I CAUGHT AARON’S DRUMSTICK, but so did the 3 girls to my left, and since they were all there together, they won the tug-of-war. :(
Favorite concert venue? The Opera House in Toronto became a fast fave, and in Helsinki it’s Nosturi, followed by Virgin Oil Co., followed by The Circus.
Least favorite concert venue? The Sound Academy in Toronto annoys me for some reason. Also don’t really like Kaapelitehdas in Helsinki, but I’ve only been there once. I think it’s coz they’re both kinda inconveniently situated, and something about the layout, especially Kaapelitehdas.
Which do you prefer: indoor or outdoor concerts? Indoor.
Which do you prefer: clubs, theaters, arenas, or stadiums? Clubs.
Have you ever missed school or work to go to a concert? LMAO YES. Or, well, when I worked, I’d make sure to book that day or weekend off well in advance, but school? Lol, I was an excellent student, I can miss a day or an afternoon no problem.
Have you ever been surprised with tickets from someone? My mom got me a Billy Talent ticket for my 17th(?) birthday, but other than that, nope, I’m usually the one surprising others with tickets.
Who do you enjoy going to concerts with? Ehh, I’m used to going to concerts alone, so it kinda throws me off when I’ve gone with someone. It’s not bad, it’s just weird. Different. I haven’t gone to shows with anyone one person enough to answer this.
General admission or seated concerts? General admission.
Have you been to multiple dates for one tour? No. :(
Have you been to concerts 2 or more days in a row? No. :(
Have you ever received free tickets from a contest or an artist’s crew? Nope.
Have you been front row and/or back row for a concert? I always strive to be at the front, though sometimes (first time seeing Bodom, last time seeing MCR, only time seeing Stam1na) I started out in the front and either got forced to the back or had to shove my way there lest I have a panic attack and die or something.
Have you ever gotten sick, bruised, or broken a bone after a concert? I’ve probably caught a cold from waiting outside in below-zero temperatures wearing jeans, a tshirt, and a hoodie (ain’t nobody got time for coat check). And of course I’ve found mystery bruises. No broken bones, though.
Have you ever had surprise guests at a concert you attended? Jon Gallant from Billy Talent appeared on stage during the opening band’s set the last time I saw MCR. That was awesome. I knew the bands were friends, but I never saw that coming. :D
Did you start listening to an opening act after you saw them in concert? I really liked what little I heard of Valkeat, who opened for Wintersun. I also liked Winterthroned, though as I said, they weren’t technically an opening act. Both are on my “listen to more of” list.
What’s the latest you’ve got home from a concert? Whenever I went to concerts in Toronto, I’d have to crash at my dad’s place in Richmond Hill and then get home a.s.a.p. the next day if I had school or work, so... latest getting to my dad’s was probably 6:30 to 7:00 in the morning, and if we’re counting actually getting home then like... 11:00 to noon the next day? Haha.
When is the earliest you’ve arrived to a venue for a concert? 8 hours before doors.
Have you seen your favorite artist in concert? Yep, but I’d love to see them more!! Alas, I cannot, as they have broken up.
Longest you’ve waited in line for a concert? 8 hours. In rain and snow. Without a jacket or gloves. #YOLO
Have you ever attended a concert alone? Almost exclusively.
What’s the best part of a concert in your opinion?
Have you ever heard/seen an artist soundcheck before their show? Nope.
What’s the biggest venue you’ve been to a concert at? The Air Canada Center or the Molson Amphitheater. Not sure which one’s bigger.
What’s the smallest venue you’ve been to a concert at? Mod Club, the place in Toronto where I first saw Korpiklaani.
Have you ever had side stage seats? No.
Which venue have you been to the most concerts at? Nosturi, maybe?
Do you post a lot about a concert you’ve attended on social media or very little? I post pictures and might tell a story or two. :^D
Has a concert or tour you were planning on going to got cancelled? No.
Have you seen a band in concert before a member left the band / they broke up? My Chemical Romance for BOTH -- I saw them before Bob Bryar left and after, and obvs before they broke up altogether. Saw C.o.B twice before the Roope debacle, too. And I’m not sure about this, but is Aaron not touring with Billy Talent anymore? Oh, and I’ve seen Ensiferum before Emmi left. Well, other than that I’m not sure about line-up changes and whatnot.
Favorite song you’ve heard live? Probably “Famous Last Words” and “It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Fucking Deathwish” by MCR.
Have you ever seen an artist/band play an album in full? My Chemical Romance played The Black Parade in full and came back and did a bunch of songs from the previous two albums.
Which artist would you refuse to see in concert? Uh. Anyone I don’t like?? Idk, there are some artists where I probably wouldn’t buy a ticket myself, but if someone wanted to take me, I’d go. It’s hard to think of specific bands/artists I would refuse to see. You couldn’t pay me enough to go to, like, a grindcore show or some screamo shit or techno/DM/whatever you call that nonsense my brother listens to. Oh, and obviously NSBM is completely out of the question.
What’s the craziest thing a fan has done at a concert you’ve been to? Crowd-surfing/stage-diving. I remember at Paganfest while Turisas was on security barely had to do anything, Warlord had that shit under control, he’d just toss bitches back into the crowd.
Which venue(s) would you love to go to for a concert? My favourites...? There aren’t really any special venues I’m dying to see, lmao.
Have you ever been to a concert at a venue that no longer exists? Not that I know of.
Have you ever lost something/got something stolen at a concert? I lost my bus ticket home at an MCR show which fucking sucked coz I was super low on money to begin with and I had to buy a new one using my Finland Fund. >.>
Have people made fun of you or laughed because of how you were acting at a concert? Ehh, one time I covered my nose coz someone behind me was smoking weed and the smell makes me nauseous and I kinda didn’t wanna throw up or pass out, and my boyfriend at the time got all huffy and annoyed and was like “grow up” and I said “you grow up” and rushed off and people laughed a bit, but more like in a “daaamn u fucked up” way imo.
Have you ever been kicked out of a concert? Nope.
Has an artist thrown or spit water on you? Nope.
Have you ever seen a security guard dance to a song at a concert? No.
Have you seen any acts you don’t like at a concert? Huntress and Ex Deo at Paganfest. -_-
Have you ever passed out or thrown up at a concert? No, thank the gods.
Have you seen any artists in concerts that you don’t like anymore? Nope!
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