#and the song. which is really excellent. got completely lost in translation i feel

[morrithal]

Now i may sound like a prude for this. But the Alvin and the Chipmunkification of otherwise great songs to remix them into squeaky little sped up soundbites for TikTok trends is driving me up the fucking wall

[little-smartass]

THE VAMPIRE LESTAT COVER ALBUM - the legendary Vampire Lestat is back and bigger and badder than ever, this time bringing a whole album of song covers ranging from classic bangers to newer fresh takes on chart hits! get your copy now, complete with a transcript of the artist's commentary on each song!

(songs I think Lestat would cover and release as an album in an attempt to re-kickstart his career and/or make some sort of dramatic statement to Louis. tracklist and "artist commentary" under the cut)

Survival - Muse

“And I’ll reveal my strength, to the whole human race, yes I am prepared, to stay alive, and I won’t forgive, and vengeance is mine, and I won’t give in, because I choose to thrive! Yeah I’m gonna win!”

Oh, I wish this song had been around back on that opening night at the Cow Palace - how apt that would have been! What a fucking anthem! They would have been rioting all night. I mean, they already were, but, like, because of the music. Not because vampires were being immolated in the middle of the crowd. Different kind of riot.

The Bitch Is Back - Elton John

“I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, oh the bitch is back, stone cold sober as a matter of fact, I can bitch, I can bitch, ‘cause I’m better than you, it’s the way that I move, the things that I do!”

One day I want to have this play as I walk into Night Island. I’ll time it perfectly so that I throw off my coat - my denim jacket, or- oh, no, a fur! Maximum drama! - just as the chorus starts. Armand will know that I’m coming of course, but I think that’ll just make it even better. And I have good memories to this song... [muffled question] Sorry, gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, bébé. [laughter]

Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic

"Oh my, feels just like I don’t try, look so good I might die, all I know is everybody loves me, head down, swaying to my own sound, flashes in my face now, all I know is everybody loves me”

Look, do I even need to explain this one? Didn’t think so.

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

"I don't give a damn ‘bout my reputation, I've never been afraid of any deviation, and I don't really care if you think I'm strange, I ain't gonna change - and I'm never gonna care bout my bad reputation"

This one's fairly self-explanatory again. It could have been my personal anthem when I was mortal quite honestly. And it's an awful lot of fun to jump about and headbang to, don't you think? That's a new thing I've found out about, headbanging. People have been hopping about to music looking like fools for centuries but now there's a name for it. Fantastic.

bad guy - Billie Eilish

"I’m that bad type, make your mama sad time, make your girlfriend mad type, might seduce your dad time… I’m the bad guy. Duh.”

Creepy? Check. Sexy? Check. Tongue-in-cheek? Check check. This song was great and a lot of fun to cover.

Lover to Lover - Florence + the Machine

“I believe there’s no salvation for me now, no space among the clouds, and I feel I’m heading down, but that’s alright, that’s alright, that’s alright”

I don’t know, this one just felt very relevant. Also the piano was great to do. You might have noticed that I’ve picked a lot of songs with piano, and that’s because I bullied the studio into getting me a goooooorgeous grand piano for the recording space and I wanted to use it as much as possible!

Feeling Good - Muse

“Stars when you shine, you know how I feel, scent of the pine, you know how I feel, oh freedom is mine, and I know how I feel”

I just really like this song - I’ve done a cover of an excellent cover! Can- can you put emojis in this? Do people still use emojis? Well imagine I’ve put the shrug one. Wait, isn’t there- Daniel, Daniel, come here, isn’t there a shrug emoji made up of keyboard- [muffled words] yes! The shrug one! Yes, put that in the transcription. [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] I just like this song.

The Man - The Killers

“I got gas in the tank, I got money in the bank, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man, I got skin in the game, I got a household name, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man”

I feel like this one speaks for itself too. Can you put that shrug emoji thing in here again? [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] Yes!

J'ai Pas Envie - MIKA

J'ai pas envie, de faire comme si, comme les maris, qui disent oui, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie d'te faire plaisir, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, si tu m'aimes viens me le dire"

Look, I'm not going to translate the whole song for you, because it has all this clever wordplay you just totally lose in english… but the gist of it is that these two lovers are… at odds a lot. It's… it's maybe a little spiteful [laughter] but in a fun way! It's a fun song! Louis won't even be mad about it, it's MIKA.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

"When I'm not with you, think of you always (I miss those long hot summer nights), when I'm not with you, think of me always, always"

[Long pause] God, I miss Freddie.

Let 'Em Talk - Kesha

Ah, full disclosure - I put this song in purely because of the expression Louis made when I played it in the car and it got to the line “can suck my dick” and she did that popping noise… it was incredible, and I just knew I had to cover it so I could see his expression when I said that. I can’t wait to play it to him. [laughter]

So What - P!nk

"So so what, I'm still a rockstar, I got my rock moves, and I don't need you, and guess what? I'm having more fun, and now that we're done, I'm gonna show you tonight, I'm alright, I'm just fine, (and you're a tool, so)"

I'm actually a big fan of nineties and noughties female stars - all that grrrrrrrl power, it's great fun, you know? I'd say this one is fairly self-explanatory, because I am still a rockstar! This is my new album! Fuck you EMP and your sniffy little article calling me "washed up"!

Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons

"But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line, I really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear?"

This one could be self-deprecating, but it's also very vindictively angry at the same time, and that's a combination I definitely get. Like, oh, it's my fault, isn't it? It's my fucking fault again, what a surprise. Perhaps "learn from your mother or you'll spend your days biting your own neck" is a little on the nose… [muffled words] you've read my books, right? [muffled words] Good, good.

Missy - The Airbourne Toxic Event

"But I swear there's still some good in me, I think if you'd stuck around you'd see, all the botched attempts at integrity I once had"

Oh, I was feeling philosophical when I picked this one. No, philosophical isn't the right word… melancholy? Do people still use that word? "I swear I swear I swear I'll never get sad" is both furiously defiant and yet so self-defeatingly ironic. [Exasperated noise] Enough of that. Next!

Please Don't Leave Me - P!nk

"I don't know if I can yell any louder, how many times have I kicked you out of here, or said something insulting? I can be so mean when I wanna be, I am capable of nearly anything, when my heart is broken… (please, please don't leave me)"

Oh, we’re… we’re getting to this section now. [clearing throat] Well, I have to make up for that sucking dick line, don’t I? Get a bit vulnerable. Oh God, why did I decide to do this bit? [muffled words] [bad chicago accent] But why buy the cow? Because you love him, you really do. [sigh, laughter]

Next To Me - Imagine Dragons

"Oh, I always let you down, shattered on the ground, still I find you there, next to me, and oh, the stupid things I do, I'm far from good it's true, still I find you, next to me"

Why did I- I don’t remember putting so many of these ones in.

Run To You - Pentatonix

"I've been settling scores, I've been fighting so long, but I've lost your war, and our kingdom is gone... how shall I win back your heart which was mine? I have broken bones and tattered clothes, I've run out of time"

[Sigh] [clears throat] Yeah. I think we can move onto the next one.

Love of My Life - Queen

“Love of my life, don't leave me, you've stolen my love, you now desert me, love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me, because you don't know, what it means to me”

I play this one sometimes on my baby grand when we've had a fight, and it's impossible for him to stay angry. He's a sucker for this sort of… formality in romance. God, I wish I'd realised that earlier. If I'd written him a letter in fancy copperplate script with scented paper and enclosed rose petals politely requesting him to bend me over his desk back in the day, it might not have taken two centuries of mutual blue balls for us to figure our shit out. Ah well, live and learn… as it were. [muffled words] Look, I did a whole bunch of vulnerable songs! Now I get to make sex jokes! [laughter] oh fuck off.

[iwillsearchtheuniverse4u]

See You In My Dreams, Stranger

Sik-k smut | khh smut

Warnings: SMUT! ORAL! (f and m receiving) PUBLIC? (not really tho)

Preview: Meeting a stranger on my night walk down the river turns out to be one of the best nights of my life.

It was one of those restless nights that I’ve been dreading ever since I started attending university. I couldn’t sleep, the thought of not knowing where my life is headed keeping me awake every single night. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t brush my teeth or remember to drink water, I just felt like existence was so utterly useless when all my dreams have been swept under a rug somewhere because I was too afraid to act upon them. I’d been dreaming of becoming a translator but all the odds of the world were against me so I chose some apparently more ‘useful’ business degree that I hated with all that I had in me. Because of my perfectionism I had been attending all of my online classes and excelling at them but I felt empty, I felt like I had been contributing to everything I hated the most in this society. At the same time I was just too afraid to change my major because I felt like I had to do something impressive to the outside world, something that would make people respect me.

Just another night of endless tossing and turning, tears streaming down my face, wondering if life does ever get better than this. I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, took a few steps towards the light switch in the corner of my one room apartment and pressed it. The cheap yellow light bulb lit up the room. The floor next to my mattress was covered in books I was trying to study from and my notes covered in smudged ink. I had a bad habit of crying while studying, sleeping, listening to music and showering, every activity that demanded me to be alone in my little space that had never really felt like home at all. Not much else was in that room apart from a small refrigerator, a microwave oven, my mattress, a closet and a wooden bookshelf. I also had a tiny bathroom that always smelled a bit moldy if I forgot to spray the air freshener three times a day.

I decided to go for a walk along the river as it became clear I wasn’t getting a second of sleep in that night. I hastily put on my black leggings and a hoodie with my high school’s logo on it. I desperately needed to get away from my own thoughts so I grabbed my phone and my earphones that were tied into little knots as always. I couldn’t afford the wireless ones because my scholarship was kept safe in my bank account where I was saving every last cent just in case I decided to drop out and go move to...run away to a foreign country where my name sounds like a whisper of the distant wind. As I was locking my door I heard one of the neighbors flush their toilets. Most of them were students like me or people living on part-time jobs, I never really met any of them, they were just familiar faces I would probably forget in a year after moving out.

The streets were quiet, only the sounds of air conditioners and an occasional motorbike or a car passing by me. I checked my phone to see the time, the picture of my favourite singer’s face lighting up my screen: 3.30am. Of course other parts of the city were probably very much alive at this time of the night but my area was populated only by grocery stores, cafes and libraries, not a single club in sight. The only lights I could see where streetlights and some LED signs. I headed towards the river trying to untie my headphones. I put them in my ears and decided to lose myself in the beats of one of those hyped-up rap songs. I put the volume up just so it was a bit uncomfortable and let my ears adjust to the blasting music.

I finally reached the riverside and started walking along the flow of the water. I couldn’t hear it but it still resonated with my mind better than the rustling sound of the city. There was a road along the river that ended somewhere within the green forest because the are was populated with some important bird species that I could never remember the name of. I sat on the bench at the beginning of that forest, my mind still dissolved in the loud beats coming out of my earphones. Even though my ears were covered with a thick layer of my long brown hair I was sure the music could be heard by anyone standing within a 1 meter ratio. I didn't mind, it was 4 am, people were either asleep or sloppily making out in a club somewhere far away. Thinking about the things I was missing out on started to become louder than the music and I let my tears fall. I was overworked, overwhelmed and empty, I couldn't keep it in. Not that I ever tried. I had never been good at hiding my emotions.

Looking at the night view of the city on the other side reflecting on the surface of the river, getting lost in my thoughts, I felt the bench move ever so slightly under my body. I looked to the side and almost fainted at the sight of a dark shadow sitting beside me. My heart started beating and I stood up to leave in case it was a stranger trying to talk to me in the middle of the night. As I took my first step away from the bench the person lightly touched the fabric of my sleeve. I looked back at him. I was certain it was a man judging by his broad shoulders and a black cap on his head. I removed my headphones, my heart still beating as if I had been running for the last 3 hours. "Excuse me. I wasn't trying to bother you or anything. I just like to look at the city at night when my head gets all crowded and I can't think straight. Don't go just because of me." His voice was deep and raspy but had an elegant tone to it, it felt  calm but distant as if he had been lost in thought. He was looking at me and the lights of the city were playfully jumping around in his eyes but his expression was the complete opposite. He seemed broken. I couldn’t let myself leave him, partly because he seemed significantly depressed and partly because he was astonishingly beautiful. My feet were unable to move, I stood there for a moment contemplating my options but my gut feeling sat me down next to him.

As we were sitting, each on one side of the bench, looking at the sparkly surface of the river my heart calmed down and minutes passed, none of us speaking, just the sound of the river mixed with my music flowing through the night air. "You were crying." He stated with a regretful tone, almost whispering. My cheeks flushed with warmth, I looked at his profile, him still staring at the waves. "I just thought I was alo-" "Don't. Feelings aren't something to be ashamed of. They're just as much a part of you as your legs and arms are. If people feel burdened it's usually their problem because they've never been faced by their own emotions. They just don't know how to act and feel uncomfortable." He talked slowly and didn't bother looking at me. It felt like his words were directed at the universe or at himself just at the general direction he was speaking, he looked so lost. I didn't notice I was staring until he looked at my eyes and smiled. It was one of those crooked smiles, filled with a certain type of worry I couldn't identify. "You can tell me why you were crying. I probably won't remember tomorrow anyway. I can lend you my ears for tonight, maybe I'll forget all about my own problems." His gaze moved back to the view as he sat back and crossed his arms on his chest. At that moment I felt like telling him every little thing about my life. It had been so long since I had anyone who would just listen without the constant urge to solve my problems but just LISTEN. I stopped myself. "I won't let you get off the hook that easy. I have a feeling that you're the one not facing your own problems. Why don't you lean on someone for a change?" I said, determined to make him speak. He looked at me from the side and his head slowly followed his gaze, his eyebrows furrowing just so much I could notice. The anticipation of hearing his raspy voice that felt so familiar and kind made me turn off my music. This man that sat next to me just a moment ago suddenly awakened my curiosity. It took a while for him to speak as we were maintaining a really intense eye contact for what felt as hours. I was able to inspect every milimeter of his dark cat-like eyes. "You're good at reading people, I'll give you that." He smiled and turned back to face the view. "I'm just under a lot of pressure. People expect a lot from me, that's all...and sometimes it can get really frustrating when I can't really reach those expectations. Sometimes it feels like there are so many people doing my thing better than me, it scares me." He put his hands in the pockets of his black sweater still staring at something in the distance. I wasn't sure what to say but he also didn't expect me to say anything. He needed someone to listen and I was there to supply. I asked: "And what would your 'thing' be exactly?" in an effort to get to know more about this mysterious creature in front of me. "Music. I make music for a living." His eyes now focused on his shoes while he bit his lips in an effort not to smile. I finally realized why his voice sounded so familiar, it was freaking Kwon Minsik, Sik-k, Korea's best rapper, sitting next to me staring at the Han river. My hand automatically covered my mouth as I inhaled. I was trying to calm myself down. He probably heard my playlist which was full of his songs and it made me feel so embarrassed, my cheeks flushing with heat again. He tried really hard to hide his cocky smile as he turned his face away from me, looking into the woods on the other side. After a few minutes he asked: "So now are you going to tell me why you were crying?" He was facing me, looking at my eyes attentively like a little boy waiting for instructions from his teacher. I was still to shy to maintain eye contact so I looked at my hands on my lap. I told him my story about how lost and useless I felt in life. I told him about feeling lonely and scared about my future. I told him everything.

Before I knew it tears started to emerge from my eyes again and I tried really hard not to look at Minsik who was still facing me, one of his arms resting on the back of the bench. I cracked. I cracked in front of a man I respected the most. It was embarrassing but also liberating, I was done trying to impress the world. I dropped my head, defeated. Next thing I felt was his warm hand on my cheek, gently wiping the trail of my tears. I froze for a bit, my eyes widening at the sudden proximity of his body. I didn't even notice him getting closer before he put his hand on my face. He was sitting right next to me, the sides of our thighs touching ever so slightly. I could hear my heart rate getting faster and louder. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t control it. I looked at him and he removed his hand, still looking at me with his furrowed eyebrows, a concerned expression drawing on his face. "I'm sorry. You probably think I'm just being childish, crying at something as trivial as my major." I said with a shaky voice. "Don't ever say sorry for your feelings ever again, you hear me? And besides, I don't think it's stupid, I think it's just very important to you. You want to set goals for yourself but you're too afraid that you're not going to reach them so you just let them go. I would obviously tell you to go for what feels right and figure it out but that won't make you feel secure and I bet a lot of other people in your life told you this before." He replied with his deep raspy voice that I loved so much. He was so close. I could feel every breath on the surface of my cheek, his left arm was lying behind me on the back of the bench, it was almost like a hug. I couldn’t think straight anymore, my thoughts were intertwined with the smell of his cologne and the heat of his body so close to mine. He didn't feel like a stranger, he felt like someone who'd known me for years. I buried my face into my hands so I wouldn't make any thoughtless mistakes. Suddenly, he moved away from me, I couldn’t feel the proximity of his body anymore, the cold night air embracing my whole being. I peeked up from my palms. He was still looking at me with concern in his eyes, saying: "Sorry, I probably got too close for comfort, I'm not used to this kind of emotional thing, you know?" I felt a desperate need for physical touch, maybe it was the cold air, the anxiety or his perfect stature or maybe it was a mix of both but I straightened my back and looked directly into his eyes. It was so unlike me to be this bold but my body automatically moved closer to his.

He didn't move even when my face was only ten centimeters away from his. His expression changed, his forehead relaxing, his eyelids closing halfway when I suddenly felt his hand on my thigh. He grabbed onto it like he was holding on for his dear life and it made me want him more. I stopped, looking down at his lips when he pulled himself closer. His smooth lips crashing into mine made me lean back but he was only getting closer until he pinned me to the wooden bench beneath us. It was a passionate kiss, his hands didn't limit themselves to my thighs but discovered the hot surface of my skin under my hoodie. I felt a certain kind of euphoria, the kind you only get to experience when you do something completely out of character for you but turns out to be the best thing you could have possibly done.

As our kiss was getting more heated and his hands were groping my breasts for a couple of minutes the heat between my legs was getting unbearable. I could feel one of his hands roam down to my thigh and up to my ass where he got the grip to grind against me. Our lips and tounges still inseparable, I played along and grinded my heat against his growing buldge until I heard his raspy growls which sent shivers down my spine. As our tempo aligned we started breathing heavily and his lips left mine but relocated to my neck, definitely leaving more than just the incredibly pleasing pain. There was only a couple of pieces of clothing seperating us but the longing was excruciating. I started tugging on the collar of his black hoodie, trying to stop him as his lips attacked my collarbone. "Stop...I can'...I can't take it." I said with a soft voice in between my moans. His hips stopped moving immediately and he pushed himself above me so we were looking face to face, his body still on top of me. The loss of friction left me feeling needy. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to be this fast, I just thought-" I got up and laid a small kiss on his lips mid-sentence. "Come to my place." I whispered in his ear. I hadn't gotten to know this part of me before but that night felt different. Maybe it was the stream of emotions I had just shared with this stranger on top of me or the tone of his voice or the feeling of the cold night breeze but I didn't want to spend this morning alone.

When we finally arrived at my door he was standing so close to me I almost held my breath trying to get myself to collect my thoughts. I swear I could hear his heartbeat like it was my own, his lips suddenly tracing the curve of my neck as I was trying to insert the right passcode. I couldn’t even focus in my own hands as his were holding me around the waist so it took me a few moments to find the right digits. When the holy sound of the door lock unlocking echoed in the hallway he already pressed the knob in a hurry and pushed me inside. Because my one room apartment was so small it only took our intertwined bodies a solid 30 seconds to hit the mattress. He was planting sloppy kisses down my collar bone as I was tugging at his hoodie, trying to set him free of it. He stopped for a moment only to get up and remove it. The moonlight from outside my small window caressing his elegant body, lighting him up from the back like he was some beastly creature of the night taking advantage of my sadness. I couldn’t move, he was sitting on top of me, his face was covered in darkness but I knew he was watching me. "Do you have any idea how freaking beautiful you look in this light?" His raspy whisper made me quiver. I smiled and looked away while my body was hungry for his touch. I wasn't ready to show it.

He slowly got up with his hands trailing the shape of my thighs until he was holding me behind the knees, still looking at me. I felt his hands pull my leggings of as if it was the easiest thing in the whole entire world. He then proceeded to playfully pull at my panties, rubbed my knot and lowered his face to blow at my growing heat, my legs almost immediately trying to close at the sudden pleasure. He held them open while licking my folds twice, trying to see my reaction. I couldn’t hold in my moans and my spine curved in-synch with my breathing. It was something I haven't felt in forever, not like this, not this strong. I grabbed onto his hair and he seemed to read the ques as he got rid of the piece of fabric. His tounge was doing circles around my clit making me see fireworks and probably tugging at his hair with both hands so much that his scalp was in pain. He got me shaking in a matter of minutes and it was the best high I've ever experienced, sending all kinds of shivers down my skin, leaving me panting. He was far from done though.

"You taste so good, baby girl," he said unknowing of the affect it had on me. I got up to unzip his pants (which he more than willingly helped me with). I traced my fingers down his perfect abs to the hem of his boxers and lower, tracing his hard member while inspecting his face. As soon as I grabbed it through the fabric with my whole hand his eyelids shut closed and his head fell back in pleasure. I pulled him to the mattress and got on top of him trying to grind at his boxers, making them soaking wet. Then I got up to remove the rest of his clothing. I proceeded to trace my tounge along his shaft and sucking on his member, enjoying his growls. His hands were grabbing the sheets and the veins on his forearms and neck were starting to protrude. Every now and then a soft "fuck~" escaped his mouth, motivating me to keep going. Then he suddenly stopped me, saying: "I need to come inside of you, grab my wallet." Instead, I got up to open one of my drawers where I was saving a pack of condoms, praying they would fit him. I handed one to him and he was so quick about it, it got me thinking just how many girls he gets to play around with like this every night. The thought escaped my mind when he stood up to hold me around the waist, slowly pulling me back to bed with him. He undressed me, pulling my hoodie over my head only to discover I wasn't wearing a bra underneath. His dark eyes glowed with passion as he greabbed one of my nipples, tugging at it while kissing me sloppily. He threw me on the mattress and got on top of me. My body was heated up completely, I couldn’t even feel the night breeze coming from the opened window. He licked my sensitive nipples a few more times before aligning himself with my entrance and pushing inside of me. The fireworks from before were nothing compared to the utter pleasure I felt at that exact moment, Sik-k filling me up perfectly. My head fell back in moans and my back curved up again. I could have sworn I saw stars playing in the darkness of my eyelids. All I heard him say was: "Fuck..." He took his time waiting for me to adjust and started to quicken his pace while adjusting the angle. One of his hands was stroking my stomach and the other was holding onto my ass. I tried to mimic his movements, increasing the fraction of our bodies. The moans escaping our mouths felt so unholy they made it even more passionate. "I'm going to- I'm close!" I squealed throught the moans which made him go even harder and faster. My whole body tensed up and I grabbed onto the bedsheets pulling them off. His dick was starting to twitch inside of me, hitting all the right spots and I knew he was trying his best to make me come first which was a rare experience. I opened my eyes seeing him focused on me with his furrowed eyebrows, sweat dripping down the side of his jawline. My body was caught up in a wave of shivers, the walls of my pussy tightening so much it got him shaking as well. We were both just trying to ride out our highs with the last strenght we had. It was sweaty and suffocating but liberating at the same time, all of our thoughts disappearing for these unthinkable moments of pleasure. His hot body collapsed on top of me, both of us trying to catch our breaths again. "This was amazing." I told him in between breaths. He rolled over me to remove the condom and, to my surprise, came right back to lie beside me, his arms hugging me from behind. He kissed my neck and whispered in my ear: "See you in my dreams, stranger."

[luxekook]

chapter one.

⇥ pairing: jungkook x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, hickies, drinking, tatted jungkook, nipple piercings

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter One

Fall of Junior Year – 8:57am

I curse every single decision that has brought me to this very moment as I power-walk across campus, sweating under the already blistering sun. Campus in August could easily be compared to a swamp given the amount of unearthly humidity, and I'm pretty sure I currently qualified as the local swamp thing.

The only positive feature in my morning has been the table of free coffee and doughnuts staffed by Student Government. The first day of the fall semester always seems to be accompanied by frantically wide-eyed freshmen and celebratory freebies. However, air conditioning is the only thing I would be celebrating today as I finally reach Tyson Hall – the destination of my 9:00am class.

As I rush to my classroom with one minute to spare, I slump into a seat in the far corner – my preferred location for people-watching out of the large windows and for getting away with doing homework for other classes.

Familiar faces surround me, an unsurprising observation given that this is our mandatory research seminar as psychology majors. I notice my friend Jenni sitting in the opposite corner, eyes glued to her phone screen.

Opening my laptop, I shoot her a text to come sit with me. Her head whips up, black braids moving every which way as she immediately piles up her things and hustles over, “(y/n), I forgot you were in this seminar! I just switched over from quantitative research because I couldn’t take any more statistics – or Dr. Harding.”

Dr. Harding is the dean of the psychology department and has been teaching here for ages. Feared by most psychology students for his tough grading and intimidating persona, he’s actually a huge softie – something I discovered by going to his office hours and seeing all 85 pictures of his grandchildren hanging throughout the room.

“He’s not that bad, Jen.”

She scoffs, “You would say that because you got an A in statistics like some sort of wizard. Besides, Dr. Newman is so much nicer.”

Jenni has an excellent point. Dr. Newman is the main reason I chose this seminar. As one of the most respected researchers at our university, she’s known for her qualitative studies on gender across cultures. I consider Dr. Newman to be a real badass woman and I lowkey stan her.

I turn to reply, but Dr. Newman begins taking attendance and class begins.

Fifty minutes later, Jenni practically drags me out of the classroom, “I cannot believe she kept us the whole 50 minutes. Is she aware that it’s syllabus week? It’s practically law to just read over the syllabus and then dismiss class. This is outrageous– (y/n), are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” I totally had tuned her out, focusing on the number of students flooding the quad. I had missed this – the rush of students heading to class, the yells of people greeting each other from entirely too far away, the buzz of excitement over potential parties…

“Unbelievable. How did I forget you have this whole weird-ass feminist crush on her?” Jenni forges forth, “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing tonight? You’re going out with us, right? Luna and I want to go to Hannigan’s.”

Since the three of us had all turned 21 over the summer, we finally could legally go to the bars in town. Hannigan’s currently holds the top spot on the list of bars that most of the upperclassman frequent. It’s a popular Irish pub downtown known for its cheap beer and mixed drinks.

It’s also BTS’s unofficial hangout – a fact that makes me slightly uneasy. After learning who the higher-ups are in BTS, I have taken to avoiding them like the plague. It was a relatively easy thing to do since the spring semester tended to be less focused on rushing and recruiting for fraternities and sororities.

But now it’s rush season, and I’m pretty much fucked. There will be no avoiding seeing BTS’s president Kim Namjoon out recruiting with his vice president Min Yoongi and his social chair Jung Hoseok. There will also be no avoiding pledge master Taehyung leading around new BTS pledges like a mother duckling. And don’t even get me started on how Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be popping up everywhere to advertise the latest BTS bash.

Sighing, I figure that the chances of actually bumping into them at the bar will be slim, given that it will most likely be super crowded and I can easily blend in.

I turn to Jenni as we keep walking towards our next classes, “Yeah, I’ll go to Hannigan’s. Are you going to come over to get ready at our place?”

Luna and I had moved into a cute little off-campus apartment over the summer. As it turned out, it’s cheaper to live off-campus than on-campus if you look hard enough. We also had it pretty good location-wise being just a few short blocks from both campus and downtown.

“Yes!” Jenni replies, slowing to a stop out front of the science building, “I’ll be over around 8 with tequila. I’ll text you later. I’ve got to go to neuro-psych lab now,” she rolls her eyes, “Hopefully we won’t be kept the whole time.”

Waving, we part ways, and I shake my head.

Tequila never leads to anything good.

Hannigan’s – 10:54pm

Fate seems to be on my side for once in my life. As soon as Luna, Jenni and I walk into Hannigan’s, my eyes are drawn to the back table where the BTS usually sits. It’s empty.

It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one else can sit there, and even though the bar is packed with all other tables accounted for, that one remains vacant – and for good reason.

Greek life essentially has a cult following around here. The Greeks provide status for those who are into that whole exclusivity thing. They also provide the best parties because of the size of their houses and because the university will never complain about one of their best sources of revenue.

I didn’t to rush a sorority way back in freshman year because I couldn’t feasibly afford it. The dues were way out of my price range, considering I was already paying for my education on my own. Luna, on the other hand, is in Epsilon Xi Delta (EXID) and consistently makes me and Jenni tag along to different Greek parties with her.

"Come on, bitches! Let's get some drinks," Jenni drags me and Luna through the packed room towards the bar that is already encircled by a crowd of thirsty students.

Tonight’s plan is simple – stick together, have fun, scope out cute seniors. Having already taken some shots before we left (saving that coin), we’re definitely feeling ourselves, flaunting our outfits like we didn’t spend a good hour picking them out earlier.

I had settled on a black t-shirt dress with a checkered flannel tied around the waist and some black Doc Martens. Luna and Jenni had tried to convince me to wear heels with them, but I knew syllabus week was a marathon – not a sprint. My feet would thank me later, and theirs would be crying.

As the bartender slides us our beers, the opening beats of Cocky AF by our badass queen Megan Thee Stallion blast through the speakers dispersed throughout the bar. Turning immediately to each other, we clink our beers together, take a sip, and head to the makeshift dance floor.

We squeeze and push our way through the masses until we reach a spot towards the back where the crowd has thinned out a little more. Within seconds, we’re in motion, hips swaying in time to Megan saying ‘bitch, I look good and you know that’.

Shaking out my hair, I get in the zone and lose count of how many songs we dance to. Eventually, our beers empty and Luna turns to me, “Another?" She accompanies her shouted question with an unnecessary charade of shot-gunning a beer in case I couldn’t hear her. I roll my eyes, laughing while I nod in response.

“Save our spot!” Jenni yells and disappears into the crowd of dancers with Luna towards the bar.

I continue dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I decide to put my hair up to try to cool off a little in the sweltering bar. The music shifts into a new song, this one slower, more seductive, a favorite of mine – Lost in the Fire featuring The Weeknd.

As Abel’s angelic voice flows over me, a pair of hands slide over my hips from behind me. I start to pull away, but then I notice – the hands are tattooed. And for some reason, that hot little fact makes me relax into the large body behind me.

Those tattooed hands tug me back even more, bringing me flush against him as he falls into time with my movements. God, this guy can dance – a rarity these days.

His body is all hard muscle and heated skin. His mouth is hot against my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. My skin buzzes. Fuck, I haven’t felt this way since–

Turning my head slightly, I can make out the vague outline him and it confirms my sinking suspicion... He’s a BTS boy.

"Hey, noona," he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing over it as he speaks.

Fuck my life, I think as I shiver involuntarily in response. Spinning to face one of Satan’s henchmen, I toss my ponytail over my shoulder and jut a hip out in both defiance and defense. But really nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Jeon fucking Jungkook, the golden boy of BTS.

He somehow looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the last I saw him playing pong against Taehyung at that party – information that I cannot even comprehend. His left arm is completely tattooed, along with a few smaller ones dotting his hands. I glare at them, blaming those hands for throwing me off.

“Like them?” Jungkook waves his fingers in front of my narrowed eyes, “I got them this summer.” Smirking lazily, Jungkook makes his own perusal of me – taking extra time along the way.

His jaw flexes as his eyes turn molten, “You’re killing me, noona. Tae didn’t mention…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I follow his gaze. Oh fuck. I had forgotten I decided to forego a regular bra tonight because I wanted to show off my piercings. Just having a thin bralette under my dress, my pierced nipples are definitely noticeable under Jungkook’s heavy stare.

Refusing to give into him, I square my shoulders, “Yeah, I got them this summer, too. But, I don’t see how that’s either your or Taehyung’s business.”

At my words, Jungkook rips his eyes away from my tits to finally meet my own eyes again, “Oh, but it really is our business. Tae said we’d like you and I agree.”

His voice is low and rough, and I swear I can feel it washing over my body, making all of my synapses fire in response.

“We?” I choked out. In full panic mode, I spin and try to leave, but I barely make it a foot away before getting stopped by a now-familiar tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

Luckily, a crashing sound echoes from the back table where the other BTS boys must be, and Jungkook lets out a string of curses, “Fucking hell, listen I have to go make sure no one’s hurt, or Joon will kill me. Stay here, okay? I’m not done with you, (y/n).”

His hand rushes up to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. Our lips fuse together in a brutally hot kiss, his tongue slipping against my bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

And then he’s gone – disappearing rapidly through the fray to manage whatever trouble his frat has gotten into.

I stand there, shaking fingers on my lips wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Hey, sorry we took so long! This bitch cut in front of us and I swear she ordered for the entire fucking population of North America—”

Luna smacks Jenni’s arm, cutting her off, “You okay, (y/n)?” Luna peers closer at me, “Holy shit, is that a hickey?  We were only gone for 10 minutes!”

My hand flies to my neck as both Jenni and Luna grab me, dragging me to the slightly quieter back alley of the bar. As they conduct the second Spanish Inquisition, I spill the details on what happened.

After a moment of silence following my explanation, they both start talking at once:

→ Jenni: “Hell yes, girl, go off! Jeon Jungkook is fine as fuck…” → Luna: “(y/f/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), have you lost your damn mind…”

→ Jenni: “…I’d hit that in a heartbeat. I’m so proud!” → Luna: “…Do you not remember last semester? Are you high? Oh my GOD, did he drug you?!”

“Stop!” I slap a hand over each of their mouths, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you guys are impossible. I am not ‘hitting’ anything, and, no, he did not fucking drug me.”

Sighing, I continue, “It was a lapse in judgement, okay? I remember last semester more than anyone, but he’s just so powerful and I don’t seem to have any common sense around BTS.”

I take my hands away from their mouths and immediately Jenni asks, “Wait, what happened last semester?”

Luna slings an arm around my shoulder, “Come on, let’s go get pizza and a six-pack from Ralph’s. We can go out another night this week.”

“Take-out from Ralph’s?” Jenni’s eyes widen comically, “This must be major tea. Let’s go.”

Instinctively, we clink our beers together for the second time that night and chug the remainder of our bottles in true broke bitch fashion (never leave paid-for beer behind).

With that, we trek back through the door and out of the bar. We finish our night filling in Jenni with our less than savory experience with the infamous BTS fraternity last semester.

But, as I lay in bed for the night, I can’t help but wonder if Jungkook had looked for me that night after I left… Or if he told Taehyung...

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries​ @h5naaa​

[styleiswild]

Interview with Beastie Boys for Machina magazine, 07/1998

By: Rafał Bryndal

Translation: Anna Bak ( @styleiswild )

 -------------

Introduction: The party called Beastie Boys in Lisbon went on for two days. On the first day we (the journalists) were invited to the magical “Kremlin” club to listen to the new album [Hello Nasty]. I don’t think I have to explain how I felt knowing that I was possibly one of the first Polish people to listen to that phenomenal record. On the second day each of us got to meet the band in Hotel Ritz during the so-called “round-table.” It’s like a private conversation with the artists. It looks a bit like a coffee party at your aunt’s. (…) The whole meeting was just as absurd, in a positive way. The answers they gave us were often ironic, as one could expect.

R.B.: Don’t you think that being Beastie Boys is way cooler than being any other band in the world?

MCA: Unfortunately, we haven’t tried being a different band yet. So I can’t really answer your question.

Mike D: To be honest, there’s something to it. Maybe because we have so much fun working together. It’s not always fun, of course. We do work from time to time, but only sometimes.

R.B.: It seems like you work on your albums for fun and pleasure exclusively?

Mike D: I think it’s because we don’t release them that often.

Ad-Rock: Yes… Yes, you must be right, man.

Ad-Rock: Yes… Yes, you must be right, man.

MCA: Hey, we’d released Ill Communication after a two year break.

R.B.: Yeah, but this one took you four years.

MCA: Yeah, we had to level it out. It takes us three years most of the time.

R.B.: You grew up together. Are you always on such good terms with one another?

MCA: Sometimes there’ll be tripartite fights. Not sure you’ve ever seen what it looks like when three people fight each other. Each of them against the other two. That happens sometimes. Rarely, though. To be honest, we don’t really argue much.

R.B.: Your new album seems a bit like a departure from The In Sound from Way Out!

Mike D: Hello Nasty is a collection of a dozen or so songs, each of them stylistically different. That’s why you can’t really compare it to our previous releases. I guess, though, that at least two of the songs would’ve worked well as instrumentals on the previous album.

R.B.: How do you deal with the new technologies in music?

Mike D: Technology is present in all genres today and you can’t run from that. Music evolves largely thanks to the new technology. Especially hip hop music. We do it like the true rappers do, which means we start with a drum machine, then we put it on a loop, and then we use digital delay system. That’s one of the newest inventions. Technology is unpredictable, because people – who are its creators – have no clue about what the artists can do with it.

R.B.: Is it true what they say on the internet? That this album is the first one of the three that you’ve recorded lately?

MCA: You’ve really heard about that?

Mike D: Gosh, you can’t keep anything secret today.

Ad-Rock: Three? To be honest, we’ve got many more albums recorded.

Mike D: The last one of the three is a country album. The genre is so popular that you can’t really keep such a record a secret anymore. Especially when you’re in Manhattan and you walk around in a cowboy fit, it’s suspicious as hell. Because there aren’t many cowboys in Manhattan. People see a guy in a cowboy fit and assume that he has to be working on a country album.

R.B.: Is it really so important for your clothes to fit the style of your music?

MCA: You identify with your music more when you dress up. People often cheat, they wear clothes that don’t fit the music they play.

R.B.: So what kind of clothes did you guys wear when working on Hello Nasty?

MCA: I wore a bat girl costume.

Ad-Rock: I dressed up as a scared woman.

Mike D: I’d wear a bathing suit, because I wanted to go swimming all the time.

Ad-Rock: We couldn’t really find what we were looking for at first. We tried on a range of fits and finally found those that went well with our music.

R.B.: You’ve been popular with skateboarders. It’s a group of people who wear unique clothes and listen to a lot of your music, as it seems. Do you identify with this subculture?

MCA: I don’t think it’s just that one subculture. There are a few more we’d like to identify with.

Mike D: For me it’s long gone. Skateboarding isn’t much of an extreme or exclusive kind of sports discipline anymore. It’s become very popular.

R.B.: You’ve worked with Lee “Scratch” Perry on the new album. Can you tell me what kind of benefits did that bring you?

Mike D: It’s hard to say, but we’ve always been pretty impressed with his work on dub music. He’s also inspired Mario Caldato, our studio engineer. For me, Lee is an artist of science, a living fucking legend.

R.B.: Do you think that you can inspire young musicians?

MCA: Sure, but that’s a normal thing, right? If music is evolving as a part of culture, then everything and everyone inspires that process. We’re happy that we can be a part of that culture to some degree.

R.B.: A lot of white kids have gotten into rap music thanks to “Rhymin’ & Stealin’.” At least that’s what happened to me…

MCA: As a white kid… Right, it’s hard to be a black kid in Finland.

Mike D: We discovered hip hop when we were thirteen or fourteen. We’d go and see Public Enemy and bands like that. We were totally enchanted. It’s not that weird that kids who listen to us want to do the same thing.

R.B.: Some people say that you don’t like it when other artists sample your music. Some say that you’re more liberal, though.

MCA: It all depends on how the sample is used. If it’s creative, then we’re here for it. But if they go and copy our own ideas, and the whole track revolves around that idea, then we’re obviously pissed off.

R.B.: Are you as satisfied with making music as you’re with your magazine and your record label?

MCA: It’s all really about creating something new, publishing the mag, recording albums or playing gigs… We’re really into humanitarian work, too. Sure, the music is the most important thing of all. Nobody knows where it comes from, it’s hard to define the process of making music. It comes from subconsciousness.

R.B.: I’ve heard that you were to make a movie based on your “Sabotage” video?

Mike D: Unfortunately, that’s not true.

MCA: It doesn’t change the fact that we’re planning to make a movie…

R.B.: About what?

MCA: You can actually watch it in the cinema already, because Spice Girls had stolen our screenplay and made it their own.

R.B.: In the 80s there were a lot of humanitarian aids, like benefit concerts during which quite a lot of money got lost for a very simple reason. Those actions were organized on such a grand scale that it was nearly impossible to control the funds. Aren’t you scared that the same thing can happen to your organization?

MCA: Free Tibet is there to help people find out about the issue and educate them on it. The money that we get helps us organize the Tibetan Freedom Concerts. It’s not like those other actions from the past that were strictly about collecting funds.

R.B.: Do you believe that the bands you invite to play consider the gigs something more than simply another type of self-promotion?

MCA: I feel that most of those artists are really moved by the issue we’re trying to bring to people’s attention.

R.B.: You’re fighting for free Tibet, while recently it’s been 50 years since the State of Israel was formed. And Palestinians are fighting for their rights to be respected. Why have you taken on Tibet and not Palestine?

MCA: Tibetans’ fight is based on the idea of non-violence. It’s a peaceful fight. The contrast between the brutality of the Chinese government and that quiet fight of Tibetans does make an impression, and that’s why we’re popularizing the ideas behind the Tibetan struggle. We believe that the non-violent, peaceful act is the only logical way of dealing with the issue.

R.B.: Even if the peaceful fight ends up leading to the extinction of Tibetan culture?

MCA: The same thing will happen if Tibetans decide to use violence as a means to gain their freedom.

R.B.: Is it true that your music is banned in Hong Kong?

MCA: That’s right. We can’t play there. Our albums can’t be sold on their market. All of the bands playing for Milarepa are banned from performing in China.

R.B.: You’ve met Dalai Lama on several occasions. Does he like your music?

MCA: Dalai Lama doesn’t listen to pop music at all. Lots of bands give him their CDs. He takes them because he doesn’t want them to feel bad, but he won’t give them a listen.

Ad-Rock: That’s why he stores so many demos at home.

R.B. What is Dalai Lama like?

MCA: He’s fantastic. He’s a great role model, representing all of the values people associate with Tibetan culture, with Buddhism. He’s got great charisma. He oozes calmness that comes from the respect he has for everyone.

R.B. What’s his opinion on Tibetan Freedom Concert?

MCA: He thinks it’s an excellent way of spreading his word. For him, the concert is a kind of holiday.

R.B.: As far as I know, you have a slightly different view on the future of Tibet. He wants to negotiate with the Chinese government about Tibet’s legal right to autonomy in China, while you fight for total freedom for Tibet as a sovereign country. Is that true?

MCA: It’s related to his view on the type of fight. He’s so scared of any form of violence that he’s ready to negotiate with the Chinese government. He’s choosing the lesser of two evils, that’s what he’s doing. We’re in a completely different situation, though. As American citizens, we want to speak with our government about freedom for Tibet. We believe that Tibetans should be free and we want to encourage the government to take action to help Tibetans gain autonomy.

R.B.: The “Sabotage” music video was unique and quite shocking. Are your new clips going to be equally as original?

Ad-Rock: It’s gonna be some good shit.

MCA: We had lots of fun working on it. The “Sabotage” video had a lot to do with the song, though. Our new clips won’t have anything to do with the songs. They can be treated as independent short features. We plan to make a couple more totally different clips.

R.B.: You’ve been a band for so long that you must be best friends and not only, let’s say, collaborators. Can you please describe one another?

Mike D: Adam Horovitz is, to use basketball terminology, the play maker. He shows us how we’re supposed to play because he’s the one in charge of the balls. Sometimes he can’t score from a distance, though. Adam Yauch, on the other hand, is a very unusual power forward. His style is completely devoid of aggression, unlike Karl Malone’s. Or Charles Barkley’s. He can dull his opponent’s vigilance with his slow moves and get all the points.

Ad-Rock: Mike is an idiot and a thief. Yauch is a liar. I’m as cool as James Bond.

Mike D: Some people might say that we’re CSC. Crazy Sexy Cool. And that’s what we wanna be.

R.B.: Can you explain your record cover? You’re in a tin and you look like sardines.

Mike D: Doesn’t it sound pretty? “Sardine tin”? It’s almost like a big surprise. You open the tin and it turns out that people’s lives are similar to the life of sardines.

MCA: Maybe this album was recorded by sardines and you’re now talking to them? Who does know?  

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 11: Prepare For Trouble And Make It Double

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day. Which was actually what's happening. So there we were, Annabeth, Percy, Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses. Percy and I walked side by side with our hand still connected. Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once. I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better. "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything." "Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" "What did you want me to do? Let you guys get killed? I was not going to leave Y/N." "You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine." "Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine." "Shut up, goat boy," I said. Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans... a perfectly good bag of tin cans." We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry. After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to Percy. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave." "We're a team, right?" She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died... aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. Do you want to see?

Yeah that would be nice.

It was as if it was morning, I could see everything clearly. I wandered my head to make sure I could see everything. This is cool. "You okay?" Percy asked. "Yeah," Not really a fan of the current silence I turned to Annabeth. "You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I asked her. "No... only short field trips. My dad—" "The history professor." "Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice. "You're pretty good with that knife," I said. "You think so?" "Yeah maybe you can teach me some tricks. "Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me." Percy smiled. I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled. "You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you... Something funny back on the but..." Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured. "Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Seeing a tree coming up I tried to pull Percy to avoid it but Percy immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on his head. I suppressed my laugh by covering my mouth which made Percy glare at me. After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This kid needed a double cheeseburger. >We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell. It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English. To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM. "What the heck does that say?" I asked. "I don't know," Annabeth said. She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too. Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium." Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken. I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. "Hey..." Grover warned. "The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open." "Snack bar," I said wistfully. "Snack bar," Percy agreed. "Snack bar," Annabeth joined. "Are you three crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird." We ignored him. The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps. "Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!" We stopped at the warehouse door. "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters." I turned to look at my knife. It had a light glow emitting from it. Probably because it was sheathed. "I think there's monsters." I was now reluctant and sided with Grover. "Grover's nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?" "Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian." "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.. "Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are... looking at me."

"Percy, I don't think---"

"It'll be fine." Percy took my hand and went in. Be careful and don't look. Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady. >Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?" "They're... um..." Annabeth started to say. "We're orphans," I said. "Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!" "We got separated from our caravan," Percy said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?" "Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area. We thanked her and went inside. Annabeth muttered to Percy, "Circus caravan?" "Always have a strategy, right?" "Your head is full of kelp." The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. I was anxious so I tighten my grip on Percy.  It's stupid for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because we were hungry. For a child of Athena, Annabeth sure isn't making wise decisions. I mean yeah I agree, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away.  But Grover's nervous whimpers, and the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, to add the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us. Made me more cautious. Sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front. "Please, sit down," Aunty Em said "Awesome," Percy said. "Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am." Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans." "Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said. Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, I had to turn to Annabeth to check if there was something wrong with her.. Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child."  I wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves. "Percy, I want to leave..." I whispered. "Just a few bites Y/N. Don't worry." He gave me a reassuring pat. Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries. I wasn't gulfing down my food like Percy was.  Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat. Annabeth slurped her shake. "What's that hissing noise?" he asked. I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head. "Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover." "I take vitamins. For my ears." "That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax." I don't like it here. I'm scared. Be wary of all things. Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. "So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested. "Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know." "A lot of business on this road?" "Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get. My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified."Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face." "You make these statues yourself?" Percy asked. "Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?" "It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price." Annabeth gave me a look of worry. I knew she realized something. "Percy?" I shook him to get his attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting." Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything. "Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those." She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly. "We really should go." "Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!" "Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?" "A pose?" Annabeth asked warily. "A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children." Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—" "Sure we can," Percy said. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?" "Percy, I don't want to..."  "It's just a photo guys." "Indeed it is just a photo Y/N," the woman purred. "No harm." I could tell Annabeth didn't like it as well, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues. Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side." "Not much light for a photo," I remarked. But joke's on her I could see quite clearly. Don't look. "Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?" "Where's your camera?" Grover asked. Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?" Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand." "Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands. "Percy—" Annabeth said. "I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil...." "Percy, something's wrong," I insisted. "Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?" "That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped. DON'T LOOK. Annabeth turned to my direction, "Look away from her!" she then shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover and and I pulled Percy with me. We were on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet. I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. "Percy, we have to move!" I shook him. But he was too dazed to move. Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails. Percy was about to look higher then her hands and I instinctively covered his eyes. "Don't look!" More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from... from about where Aunty Em's head would be. "Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers. "Percy we have to move please!" "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she said soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up." "Percy please!" Percy pushed my hand away and looked to one side. I turned to look as well and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents. Aunty Em. Aunty "M." How did Medusa die in the myth? But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face. "The Gray-Eyed One did this to me," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this." "Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Y/N carry Percy!" "Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer. We won't even hurt, Y/N." I swung Percy's arm around my shoulder. But he was too heavy.  "No," he muttered trying to make his legs move... "Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain." "Y/N!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!" I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone. "Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!" I tackled Percy to the other side. Thwack! Then Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!" "That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back. Pulling along an out of a dazed Percy we scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass. Ker-whack! "Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting. Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Y/N! Percy!" Percy jumped so high his feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!" Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off." "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here." "Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance." "What? I can't—" "Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster. Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—" "Would you speak English?" "I am!" She tossed him the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly." "Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!" "Roooaaarrr!" "Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch. "Hurry," Annabeth told him. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash." Percy took out his pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide showed. He turned to me and gave the glass then offered a hand. "Percy you can't be seriously bring her along!?" "I'll go with him." Taking his hand, we followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I raised the glass so I could guide us. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her. Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!" Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!" We advanced on her. I had let go of Percy's hand to bring out my knife. So if she charged, I could help Percy. But she let us approach—twenty feet, ten feet. I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse. "You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't." I could tell he hesitated. From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!" Medusa cackled. "Too late." She lunged at him with her talons. I ran and raised my knife to block her talons, Percy then swung his sword, then we heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces. "Oh, yuck," Percy said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck." Annabeth came up next to us, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move." >Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice. "Are you okay?" Percy asked me, his voice trembling. "Yeah," I decided. "Why didn't... why didn't the head evaporate?" "Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you." Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head. "The Red Baron," Percy said. "Good job, man." He managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun." He snatched his shoes out of the air. "I didn't know Grover got Luke's shoes."  Percy recapped his sword. "I can't fly." He shrugged.  Together, the four of us stumbled back to the warehouse We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak. Finally Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?" Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him." "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa." Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'" "Forget it," I said. "You're impossible." "You're insufferable." "You're—" "You're both loud and stupid." I growled. "Yeah!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?" I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS! I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice. What had Medusa said? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Percy and I shared a look. We got up. "I'll be back." "Percy, Y/N," Annabeth called after me. "What are you—" We searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket. In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins.  "Found one." Percy called. We went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip: The Gods >Mount Olympus 600th Floor, >Empire State Building New York, NY With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON <3 Y/N L/N "They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent." I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop! "I am impertinent," Percy said. I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize. She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that we had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Great, well Fred and George," she muttered. "We need a new plan."

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[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty: heart of glass

"in between, what i find is pleasing and i'm feeling fine. love is so confusing, there's no peace of mind. if i fear i'm losing you it's just no good, you teasing like you do." -”heart of glass”, blondie

With the continual wall of noise from the rain outside, Joey managed to drum for a solid hour all for Sam. He pounded upon the kick drums as if the pedals had grown right out from the soles of his feet. He gave his black curls a toss back with a flick of his head every so often, but Sam thought about fetching a piece of string just to tie them back from his face.

He was tight in his rhythms and his grooves, such that he hardly moved his arms about when he pounded on the big bass drum next to him and the little tom toms up top. All the while, she pictured Frank and Dan going forth on their respective bass and lead guitar positions before him.

A little power trio for the whole world to see as far as she could see them in the future.

At one point, right as the rain outside died down a bit, he slowed down his grooves to a single tap on his snare drum and a couple of beats on his kick drum. Every other one, Sam expected to hear a tap of the snare but there was nothing.

“Interesting little bounce here,” she remarked as she took her seat on the couch to take the pressure off of her knees and her feet.

“Called a 'ghost note',” he told her. “You expect to hear something—” He tapped the snare and kicked twice, and then nothing. “—but nah. Zelda does 'em a lot, I've noticed. Like during their more atmospheric, slower songs, she'll do the ghost notes so it has kind of a swirl to it.”

He then hit one of his splash cymbals, and he returned to her with a twinkle in his eye. Drumming solid for nearly a whole entire hour and he hadn't even broken out in a sweat: instead, he had a soft rosy blush to his cheekbones and his bangs fluttered about as if he walked about a stretch of sidewalk.

“By the way, what was that song that the girls did?” he asked her. “The one where Zelda just went crazy on the drums? You know, we were in Boston and she just went completely ape shit on the whole thing?”

“Oh, that was 'Dead Witches', I think?” she recalled. “Minerva just did a crazy, like five minute solo, too.”

“And Zelda was just going faster and faster with it, too! They actually got real thrashy and metallic there. I can see them going more in that direction at some point—Zelda's got the chops and Morgan does, too.”

He hit the splash again and the rain picked up outside once more.

“I'm hearin' a little riff in my head right now,” he confessed as he hit the splash twice more and then he held it still by the edge with two fingers while he still held the stick in his hand. He then gave his black curls a toss back with a flick of his head, and he stood to his feet, and he set the drum sticks down on the stool's head. She held still as he climbed out from behind the kit and made his way over to his record collection on the other side of the room.

“You got the—” he began with a little motion of his index finger. She hesitated for a few seconds, and then she remembered. She took out the box from her purse and handed it over to him. He took the leather strap out from its hiding place and he returned to the guitar.

She watched him slip the strap onto that white flying V; she then clasped her hands together and held them close to her as he slung it over his shoulder. He reached behind his head and slipped his hair out from underneath the strap.

The guitar stayed right up close to his stomach so he couldn't reach so low with his lanky drummer's arms. He held it high against his body, just how Alex had told her that one time.

“So high up,” he complained, “high up on my body. Feels like it's choking me.”

“Alex recommends holding it that high so it's easier on your wrists and your back,” she told him, to which Joey frowned. “Joey, listen—take his word for it.”

He then pressed his hands to his hips.

“Joey—he was in Aurora's wedding for god's sake,” she insisted. “He's a good kid!”

He chewed on his bottom lip and he glanced down at the guitar with a serious look on his face.

“Still a freak,” he stated in a cold tone of voice, and he turned to the side a bit so he could strum something.

The side of his face. The straight way in which his nose was shaped.

He warranted the work of stained glass. Something of so many colors, all the colors of the rainbow. The darkest shades of blue and purple all about the crown of his head; meanwhile his head and shoulders could be all those lovely shades of golden yellow and orange and even a bit of brown if she could find it for herself. She wished for Belinda's help right then, so he could in fact hold still for her.

But all she had was her journal and the art supplies she had on hand right there. Sam reached to her right for the journal in question and she opened it to a fresh page.

She kept her eye on his lush black curls and, quickly enough before he moved at all in comparison to her, she scribbled them down with the edge of the graphite. She kept her eye on the side of his face, right on that straight nose and those deep eyes. Not nearly as deep as Alex's eyes, but deep enough to warrant an extra bit of quick shading on the page.

Indeed, that in and of itself was a pose that she could challenge herself with: Joey standing to the side with his curls pushed back from his face and the white guitar cradled in his hands. She could even bring the slightly disgruntled expression on his face along with her.

Quick strokes of the pencil and she had the bare minimum of a sketch as he kicked a riff about as if he knocked a hockey puck about the room.

She took a glimpse down the sketch. Indeed, she found it to be the perfect way to translate it over to glass as well.

His fingers moved about at a slow pace along the fret board, which in turn caused him to grunt in his throat.

“You alright?” she asked him.

“I'm tryin' to go faster,” he confessed. “Like for the new album or sump'n. I wanna be able to play those real quick and melodic riffs the way Scott always does.” Indeed, he stopped and he flexed his fingers a bit.

“Well, if you keep working it, your muscles'll get stronger,” she promised him. “It's like when you're making art, you're not sure of yourself at first. But then after a while, you keep your head down and you faze out everything around you. And the next thing you know, you're making your first masterpiece.”

He gazed on at her with a thoughtful look on his face. He clutched at his wrist and that flat piece of silver around it with his other hand. Every so often, he flexed his fingers once more in order to better get the blood flowing in there.

Sam brought her attention up to his face and the way his eyes hooded at the very sound of that.

“You think so?” He brought the tone of his voice down to a husky one.

“I know so.” She stopped and she squinted her eyes at him. “What's on your mind right now?” she asked him.

“Well, that's just—that was just really kind of you to say that to me,” he admitted to her, still with his voice down low. He ran his tongue along his dark lips and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“What's on your mind right now?” she repeated.

“A certain something of sorts,” he confessed. “I'm just looking at how your mouth is shaped, the very same mouth that gave me those kind words just now. You're always willing to get to the bottom of things, like my behavior towards what's his name. You're always willin' to compromise, too.”

She held still in her spot on the couch and she wondered where exactly he was going with this.

“And so,” he continued, “—I wanna know if you have a little ace of spades up your sleeve that you're not telling me.”

“Who's to say it's an ace of spades?” she asked him as she straightened out her spine and rested her elbows on her knees.

“Well, I just think about the accident,” he began, and then he took off the guitar from his shoulder and he leaned it against the wall right next to him. He ran his fingers through his black curls and he turned to her, still with those hooded eyelids. “The accident—and Cliff drew out an ace of spades before hand and he spared Kirk his life. The ace of spades, the dead man's hand.”

“Where are you going with this,” she whispered to him.

“I've noticed something,” he continued, still in a husky voice, “the times in which the arts die off with someone like him. Things get a little darker and little more grim, all because of something so weird like the ace of spades. You know, in Native American lore, we believe that everything is made out from an eternal river bed of black mud, and we all crawled out from that mud. Somewhere along the sides of that river bed is some kind of plant that resembles to the ace of spades. The other side of my heritage, the Italians, believe in something a little similar with the same goal in mind. The goal that we all emerged from the darkness and we came forth into the world we all know today.”

“To the earth from whence we came,” she muttered, to which he nodded.

“And it just so happens that an ace—someone utterly excellent and not of this world like Cliff—returned to the darkness of the earth, the spade itself, and we lost someone who was more than a force to be reckoned with.”

She sighed through her nose. This was another side of Joey she hadn't seen before, the side in which she wondered if he really was the hick that he claimed to be, or if that had been recycled from a mere perspective of living in New York City for a time. This young man of mixed race had far more layers than she had originally uncovered before.

“You know what else resembles to the ace of spades?” he asked her right then.

“What's that?”

He lowered his gaze to his legs, much to her confusion.

“I'm guessing—aside from me of course—you've never really given a man a little blowing below the belt before?”

To which she slowly shook her head. It was something that never really crossed her mind in the past, such that when Joey mentioned it, it almost hit her like a dead weight to the head. She remembered that there were in fact people who thought about this sort of thing quite often.

“It's alright—I'm not very experienced myself,” he confessed to her with a little shrug of his shoulders and a raise of one eyebrow. “But I do know what that looks like, though. I think to the first time I felt it from you.” Indeed, she thought back to that evening in England, there in the hotel room where she had her mouth on him right before she had to board the red eye back home. He gestured for her to come on closer to him. She sighed through her nose and she gingerly stood up from the couch.

The only sound came from the rain outside and the pounding of her own heart inside of her chest.

She thought back to what her mother had said about the man she used to know, the man who resembled to Joey himself. He showed her the tip of his tongue and he glanced down at her breasts, and then her body.

“You know, a nice comment pleases me,” he told her, “but the only other thing that pleases me more than that is if I feel a certain something. A certain something that will in fact give me more life than anyone else can imagine.” Sam then shook her head at that.

“I dunno if I'm ready to understand you yet, Joey,” she confessed.

“A lot of people don't,” he assured, still with those hooded eyes; he then slipped his thumbs into the loopholes on his jeans to put more emphasis on his hips. “But then again—it's just you and me here right now.”

She peered over her shoulder to the couch. Belinda was back home down in New York City. She returned to him as he showed her his tongue once more.

“There's a lot that I think about, too,” he admitted to her. “A lot that—most people'd call 'backwards' or something that needs to be hidden from view. I don't think so.”

She swallowed and shifted her weight right there before him.

“There's a lot that—most people would confuse, too. Not necessarily with me, but with two people such as you and me as well.”

“Like what?”

He then nibbled on his bottom lip. “Lately—and when I say lately, I mean the past month and a half since you and I made it official between us—I've been thinking about just how attracted I am to you. How much I want you, too.”

“Isn't that the same thing?” To which he shook his head.

“Attraction and desire are not the same thing, Sam. You can be attracted to a bowl of potato chips but that doesn't mean you want them, though. I just think about how much I want you, and how much I've been wanting you, too. Y'know, I think back to when we on the hockey rink together—and I just think about how good your body looked while on the ice. I think about how much I want you next to me and how much I want you on me as well.”

She swallowed again, which caused him to raise his eyebrows at her. He then reached out for her and he gently held her by the shoulders.

“It's okay, there's nothing to be afraid of,” he assured her in a gentle voice. “It's just us here. We've got all night, too. Granted I have to go tomorrow night, but for the time being, it's just us. You're all about me feeling comfortable—I give you the same mantra.”

“How do we start?” she asked him with her head bowed.

“Well—like getting prepared for a round of hockey or anything physical, we gotta warm up. So—seeing as I'm the one who knows what it looks like—I suggest we start with me. We'll move over to you and find out what makes you tick next. Remember when we were in England and you blew me while we were on the bed?”

She nodded her head.

“Well, let's do it again. Except this time around, like I said, we actually have time so you can figure things out and I can, too. I will say this, I wanna try it out while I'm standing up.”

“So you want me to get down on my knees?” she asked him, to which he nodded. She sighed through her nose again and then she dropped down to her knees right before his hips and his thighs.

“So what do I do? Do I just sit here on my knees?”

“Well—let's see—” he began, “your head is close to my hips so yeah. Just follow my lead.”

“Follow my lead says the guy who isn't a lead guitarist,” she teased him, albeit out of nervousness.

“You're good,” he pointed out as he undid his jeans for her. He slid them down his sinewy brown legs and he showed himself to her. Sam was hesitant to do anything right there; instead, she glanced up at him with baited breath and a dry feeling on the back of her throat. She realized she hadn't had much to drink for herself right then.

“Do you remember what you did while we were in England?” he asked her.

“Put my lips around it?”

“Right! We'll just take it slow—just like that—yeah! Yeah, there you go. Here—lemme help—”

He buckled his knees so she could have a bit more flesh in her mouth. She looked up at his face as he lingered right above her.

“Just like that,” he gently encouraged her, “like you're sucking on a Popsicle!”

She giggled at that, and she moved her head up a bit more so she could have more in her mouth.

“Okay, move down—there you go—that's my girl—”

He then thrust hard into her mouth, such that it took her by surprise at first. But he kept on moving, kept on going forth with it. She held still underneath him as she let him move in closer to her. Salty and taut; but she could feel nothing on her end. But she kept it at. It was to please him, and she loved seeing the smile on his face all the while.

If he was happy, then she was happy herself.

She then took her mouth off of him, and he showed her an eager grin.

“Okay—let's go upstairs—I'm gonna give you your turn now.” He then dropped his pants all the way and he took her by the hand. He led her upstairs to the loft, and he almost jumped into bed for her.

Gingerly, she took off her top and her jeans for him.

“When you say it's my turn now,” she started as she climbed onto the bed next to him, “does it mean I'm on top?”

“Yes!” he said as he lay flat on his back underneath her. He spread out his arms from his body. “Yes! Gimme what for on top.”

“It's almost like you're my canvas,” she told him.

“Nah, I'm your paint brush,” he retorted. “Like when you take your brush or your pencil and just move it about in between your fingers to paint your next masterpiece. Climb on top—just like that—how's that feel?”

“Weird,” she confessed, “like it—it hurts—ow—ow!”

“Okay, c'mere—lemme touch ya—lemme touch ya—on your tits—how's that?”

“Tickles.”

“Okay—”

She giggled at the feeling of his fingers there.

“You like that, don't ya?” he teased her with a big goofy grin on his face.

“It tickles!”

“Well, y'know when it tickles, you get a li'l sump'n else goin',” he pointed out.

“Like what?”

“Between your legs. Don't ya feel it?”

“No,” she confessed. “I don't, no.”

“Wow,” he said, taken aback, “but that does feel good, doesn't it?”

“It does, yeah. But I just—what you're telling me is a little weird, though. I can just try it willy nilly here, though.”

“You don't wanna fake it,” he told her with a shake of his head. “Last thing you wanna do is fake it. How 'bout this?”

He pressed his lips to her skin and she gasped.

“Ooh, yeah, you like that, don't ya?” he teased her with that lopsided grin on his face.

“Yes! Do it again!”

He kissed her again. “Okay—we're doin' it in the face of the epidemic—it's alright, though—I trust you.”

“And I trust you,” she blurted out.

This was something else, something new, something that she never got the chance to do with Cliff when they were together. She swore Joey was nothing more than one of her best friends and the first man she met when she first moved to New York, the first man next to Frank of course, but she took things to the next level here in the bed. She stared right into his face, right into those dark eyes, those dark eyes of venom and deadly nightshade. He was her paint brush and her body served as the canvas. Together they painted their first masterpiece.

She gasped and she slid right off of him.

“Okay, that's enough,” he pleaded, “—that's enough!”

Sam climbed off of his body and she lay down there on her back next to him. Quick and concise, but more than worth it.

Joey let out a long low whistle at the feeling: she rolled her head over the pillow for a better look at his face and his neck. It felt so strange, to lay there next to him when she didn't feel the same thing that he felt for her. But he lay there with a smile on his face and a warm soft blush inside of his dark skin: his Adam's apple poked out from his soft throat and his black curls splayed out from all around his head. She had drank up his venom and he had drank up something from her as well, something sweet and nourishing to his liking.

“You okay?” she asked him as she lay still right next to him and with her hands rested upon her bare chest.

“More than okay,” he replied to her in a broken voice. “That was just—that was just everything I ever wanted. Right there. That hit the spot more than something to eat after a long day of not eating anything. Phew.”

He rolled his head over the top of the pillow and he gazed on at her with those hooded eyes once again.

“Yeah, that was—that was something,” she remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” he added in a broken voice. “I figured—you know. We've known each other for quite a while and everything. We might as well take things a step further.”

“Makes perfect sense, oh yeah.” And for that brief pocket of time, she had forgotten the rest of the world around them. She rolled her head to the right of the bed, where she was met by the little clock there. A brief pocket of time was enough for her to realize that they were in fact running out of time.

“Been meaning to tell you this,” she began, “but—next year, for my senior project, I'm gonna have to go with my counselor out to California. For how long, I dunno.”

“California!” he repeated as he rolled his head over the top of his pillow; through the darkness, she could make out the disheartened expression on his face. “You're leavin' me?”

“Well, not right now,” she assured him as she rested her hands upon her belly, as soft and delicate as the bedsheets underneath them. “Like I said, it's next year. Way after you get home.”

“Yeah, but we'll be workin' on our new album then,” he pointed out. “At least that's what Charlie said.”

“It's tentative, though,” she continued, “so who knows? Bill might have a change of heart.”

“I hope he does.” He then paused for a few seconds. “Besides, why California of all places?”

“He didn't say. And the thing that gets me about it is if I go out to California, I won't be around to see you.” She confessed that to him in a soft voice, to which Joey's face fell.

“Well—I mean, does it actually have to be out in California?” he asked her.

“Like I said, that's according to my counselor Bill,” she said, “he told me that it's going to be way out there, but that's as far as he went with it, though. For all I know, it could be something really huge, that it just—has to take place in another state.”

“Clear on the other side of the country, too,” he added.

“Right when I got settled into a new apartment, too,” she said. “You know, I've been thinking about getting away from the mundane for a bit. But—nothing like this, though.”

“You need to stretch your legs more,” he told her. “Like you gotta get yourself out of that apartment and into the streets more. At least that's how it was for me growing up in 'Swaygo. If I had cabin fever—which was often being a kid without a way of getting over to Syracuse or Rochester—I always picked up a hockey stick or my drum sticks and just went nuts with 'em.”

“I've been thinking of getting into more physical arts,” she confessed to him. “Like what Belinda does. Glass work and leather crafting. Making things with my hands.”

“You should,” he suggested to her, complete with a raise of his eyebrows. “I just think to when you and I were in the hockey rink together and skating in particular came to you so well. It's all within you, Sam I am. It's all within—this body—” He inched closer to her and he pressed his lips onto hers once more. She kept her hands upon her chest as he ran his hands down the curves of her body, down towards her hips and her thighs. He gave her the softest groan from the back of his throat all the while, and then he lay his head back down on the pillow next to her. Even in the darkness, she could make out the look of disappointment on his face.

“Look at it this way,” he told her again, that time in a soft faraway whisper, “if you go out to California, you'll actually be closer to Metallica and Exodus and everybody out there.”

“That's true.” When he said that, she thought about Testament. She would be closer to them, too. If nothing, wherever Bill planned on taking her out there, she knew that she would be within range of them, as well as the place where James and Lars scattered Cliff's ashes.

She sighed through her nose and she lay her head back down on the pillow underneath her head. She gazed up at the ceiling overhead. She thought of falling asleep but alas she couldn't. Their whole act back there had jarred her awake despite it being late at night. Joey however fetched up a yawn.

“I'm feelin' kinda in the mood for a bit of snugglin',” he confessed to her right then. “We had a little moment and now we deserve a round of snuggly snuggles.”

“Some snuggling and some cuddles?” she teased back at him.

“Yes, yes, yes—I'm in need of some cuddles. I've been a good boy after all.”

“If you say so,” she further teased him. She then rolled over onto her side so he could have a better look at the curvature of her body.

She cuddled up right next to Joey, complete with his arms around her. The warmth of his body cradled her like the warmest feeling, like the top of her bed back at her parents' house. She could still taste him on her tongue and she knew she would be sore come the morning light, but she had crossed a new threshold with him in the meantime.

Sam lay her head on his chest so she could better hear his heartbeat. In comparison to the rain on the rooftop, his rhythm was in fact much louder and steadier, and far more soothing to relish in as well. She focused on his heart and the steady ebb and flow of his breathing.

Her eyes shuttered closed at the warm feeling the enveloped the both of them. For a second, she thought that Cliff was still right next to her. And indeed, she even pictured him next to her.

That evening over his last Christmas break at her parents' house in Reno. They had had that argument: such a distant memory at that point, but it still haunted her even with the warm feeling around them. She shook her head a little bit as she realized that she and Joey were about to part once more, but that time around, he could go over to Europe on a high note with her.

As far as she knew, she could lose Joey exactly how she lost Cliff. She could lose any one of them exactly how she lost Cliff.

She awoke the next morning to the warmth of his deep chest and his slim waist, and the smile on his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile herself, and she squeezed him a little bit before she woke him up with a kiss on the neck.

“'Morning, sleepy head,” she greeted him.

“Shall we fetch some coffee and a bite of breakfast?” he offered her.

“Please,” she insisted.

Within time, they had dressed and headed out the door all the way back to New York City. Given it was still way early, they both agreed on a cup of coffee and breakfast while down in the City together. At some point overnight, the torrential rain had turned into freezing rain, and thus all the roads were blanketed in a fine layer of slush and sleet. Sam nestled down in the passenger seat next to Joey as they began out of Camillus.

They reached the last stoplight before the onramp to the freeway and Joey rubbed his hands together to keep the warmth in. She glanced out the window and there on the sidewalk before one of those small book stores before the freeway, Sam recognized that little dark head once again with his parents: the last day they were there no less. Even in the midst of the clouds, she spotted that small plume of gray. He happened to turn around at that point.

While Joey rubbed his hands some more, Sam raised her hand and gave him a friendly little wave. Alex returned to the favor, complete with a sweet little crooked smile.

The light then turned green and they lunged forward to the freeway.

Four hours and the faintest trickle of heat from the vents before them, and that familiar skyline emerged from within the low hanging dark clouds over them. Where the lake effect had given them freezing rain, a full fledged snowfall had covered New York City in a couple of inches.

Joey took that bypass down to Hell's Kitchen once again, but instead of going to a cafe there, he kept on going to that apartment by the harbor.

“I saw a little coffee place down the block from you,” he told her. “Close by and we can give a li'l sump'n for Marla, too.”

“Good idea!”

He offered to buy them both cups of coffee, while Sam asked for a blueberry scone from the barista in there. It felt just like the first time, back when Cliff was alive: indeed, she expected to see him on the porch chatting with Alex. Joey held both cups of espresso, one for him and one for Marla, as he led Sam out of the coffee house. They then started back towards his car but Joey kept on walking up the cleared but damp sidewalk to the complex by the harbor. Sam followed him as she held her scone, which had been put inside of a little brown paper bag, in her pocket, that is until they reached the complex itself.

She pressed the buzzer outside of the door to grab Marla's attention and then she turned to Joey, who set his cup of coffee down on the post next to him.

“Happy birthday, Joey,” she told him as he put his arms around her. She rested her chin upon his shoulder, so he could press his lips to the side of her neck.

“I'll see you at Christmas,” he said right into her ear. And without another word, he let her go, and she took Marla's cup along with her back up the steps and up to the apartment, where she and Genie both awaited her. But when she reached the top step, she stopped, and she turned around for a look down at him. His black curls were still disheveled all about the crown of his head and his dark skin seemed darker in comparison to the fresh blanket snow all around them.

“Drive safe,” she called out to him, and he showed her a little smirk.

“Will do,” he vowed, and he flashed her a wink and blew her a kiss. Without another word, she stepped inside of the front lobby and she headed upstairs, where Belinda greeted her with a big beaming smile on her face.

“There she is,” Marla called out from behind her.

“The lady of the hour!” Belinda declared. Sam shut the door behind her.

“What's going on?”

“Oh, my god, Sam—you gotta get into glass,” Belinda begged her. “You've got to!”

“Well, school's already long started, Bel.” She set her cup of coffee on the kitchen table and then she handed the other one to Marla. “—I don't think I can, to be honest.”

“I'll recommend you for the winter term,” Belinda said. “You've gotta be in glass. It's so much fun, you'll love it.”

“She really just wants you in there,” Marla pointed out as she brought the cup of espresso to her lips.

“But it's true, though!” Belinda insisted. “It'll be so good for you, Sam, especially with that daunting senior project before you.”

“Did you give that suggestion about leather crafting, by the way?” Sam asked her.

“Yeah, I gave a suggestion like three times to Bill and to Mrs. Robinson, too,” Belinda replied.

“Mrs. Robinson.”

“My counselor,” she answered.

“Oh, I see. Well, of course when I was hanging out with Joey yesterday, I got the idea to do glass work with his countenance, dare I say. I mean, I have had that idea for a long time now, but I'm really feeling it now.” Sam then set down her cup of coffee on the table before her, and she reached into her purse for her journal. She plunked it open to that bare sketch she had made the day before. Marla and Belinda both nodded at the sight of him.

“He was playing drums and guitar for me,” Sam told them.

“Flexing big time,” Marla remarked before she took another sip of coffee. “Charlie did that all the time with me.”

“Sometimes that's all you need is a simple little sketch,” Belinda told her.

“Sometimes it really is,” Sam agreed with her, “sometimes it's enough to give you all the layers to work with.”

[hatari-translations]

CYBER ft. Emmsjé Gauti - Snákar (Snakes) - transcript/translation

This one was difficult to transcribe, full of very slurred lyrics, slang and references. My original transcript was total incoherent nonsense and I just kind of threw up my hands and went “maybe this is all a bunch of weird drug slang or something”. Later, though, I got my hands on the official lyrics for the song and retranscribed it, and it’s a lot easier to tell what it’s on about, though it’s still not entirely transparent.

Please do scroll down to the translation notes, I really want to tell you about this one amazing completely untranslateable pun in here. Content warning for drugs and sexuality (including a couple that are “a little bit related”, apparently).

Icelandic transcript

CYBER:

Strákarnir í fjörunni

sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa

Snákarnir í körfunni

sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara

  Liggjum og reykjum og sleikjum allt af

Tökum og neytum, þú hleypur af stað

Svíður ekki lengur, þú sleiktir allt af

Skríður undir sandi og þú stígur á það

  Blóð í sandi, blóð í sandi, blóð í sandi, á

Vatn í munni, rauður runni, blóð og landi, á

Sitja kyrr og bíða, hlusta, hlusta á sárið, á

Sleikja og stara, reykja aðra, blæða út í, á

  Stingum og gleypum, þú kremur allt af

Lemjum og drepum, við reynum á það

Aldrei fara aftur, ef þú ferð þá fer það

Finndu fyrir öllu, ég sker það allt af

  Skríður og bíður, þú stígur á það

Skríður og svíður, þú hleypur af stað

Bíður eftir merki, ég bíð og gef það

Skríður undan verki, verkið var mitt, brah

  Strákarnir í fjörunni

sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa

Snákarnir í körfunni

sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara

  Liggja og lama, liggja og lama, liggja og lamast, ah!

Reyna að fara, reyna að fara, reyna að farast, ah!

Og mig langar helst ekki að tala, mig langar helst ekki að tapa

Hugsanir hlaupa hratt í hringi og ég eltist við það að rata

 Þess vegna vildi ég helst það væri snara

Reyna að hlaða hratt en næ ekki alveg að klára

Snaran snýst í hringi, kirkjubjöllum hringi

Útlimunum slengur, últímatum kyngir

 Sæti mitt er laust (laust)

Gleymist úti og fraust (laust)

Snerti þig, þú naust (kaust)

að sýna mér traust (laugst)

Elskan, elskan, sérðu eftir því að ég faust?

Sálarlaust og selt þú kaust að svíkja mig virðingarlaust?

  Liggjum og reykjum, þú sveikst og tókst það

Störum og sleikjum, þú veist þú vilt það

Ég tek það allt aftur, skaða í þinn stað

Skara framar í öllu, því ég faust, maður

 Strákarnir í fjörunni

sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa

Snákarnir í körfunni

sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara

 EMMSJÉ GAUTI:

Ég finn það á mér, það er eitthvað sem þú vilt mér

Ég finn það á mér, þú ert eitthvað pínu villt hér

Samkvæmt bókinni þá ertu pínu skyld mér

Endum samt svo bæði úr að ofan eins og Big Ben

  Jónas í vasanum eins og heimsskáldin, fattarðu

Lífið lyginni líkast, ég er eins og námskeið í Haraldnum

Ta-talaðu, talaðu, fíla að vera hataður

en ég drep þig í letri og verð svo kallaður Arnaldur

  Moðerfokker, já, bakkaðu, ó!

Varstu á rananum, ó!

Varstu á skallanum, só!

Þú verður skallaður

 Ég tipla á tánum til að týnast ekki í tonnataki

Taktu til í tönnunum og tryggðu typpi í tonnatali

 Grafísk hönnun, alveg lógó

Tók í burtu - tók en fór þó

Forljót sál en flottir skór, þó

Seyðisfjörður, París, Tókýó

Ljótir strákar elska kókó

Ljótar stelpur hata fómó

Apalæti, klink í Bóbó

Poki af dicks sem fást í Costco

 CYBER:

Strákarnir í fjörunni

sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa, sitja og grafa

Snákarnir í körfunni

sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara, sleikja og stara

 Strákarnir (nir nir nir nir)

sitja og grafa, skrafa, skrafa, sitja og grafa

Snákarnir (nir nir nir nir)

sleikja og stara stara stara stara stara

 English translation

CYBER:

The boys on the beach

sit and dig, sit and dig, sit and dig

The snakes in the basket

lick and stare, lick and stare, lick and stare

 Let's lie and smoke and lick everything off

Take and consume, you take off running

Doesn't sting anymore, you licked it all off

Crawling under the sand and you step on it

 Blood in the sand, blood in the sand, blood in the sand, ow

Watering mouth, red bush, blood and spirit, ow

Sit still and wait, listen, listen to the wound, ow

Lick and stare, smoke another, bleed into, ow

 Stab and devour, you crush everything off

Hit and kill, we'll give it a try

Never go again, if you go it'll go away

Feel everything, I'll cut it all off

 Crawling and waiting, you step on it

Crawling and stinging, you set off running

Wait for a signal, I wait and give it

Getting out of a job, the job was mine, brah

 The boys on the beach

sit and dig, sit and dig, sit and dig

The snakes in the basket

lick and stare, lick and stare, lick and stare

 Lying and paralyzing, lying and paralyzing, lying and getting paralyzed, ah!

Trying to go, trying to go, trying to die, ah!

And I'd rather not talk about, rather not lose

Thoughts run in quick circles and I chase them down to navigate

 That's why I'd rather there was a lasso

Try to charge quickly but can't quite finish

The lasso rotates in circles, rings churchbells

Slinging limbs, swallowing the ultimatum

 My seat’s free (free)

Left outside and froze (free)

I touched you, you enjoyed (chose)

putting your trust in me (lied)

 Darling, darling, do you regret how I left?

Soulless and sold, you chose to betray me with no respect?

 We sit and smoke, you cheated and took it

We stare and make out, you know you want it

I take it all back, all harm done to you

I excel at everything because I left, man

 The boys on the beach

sit and dig, sit and dig, sit and dig

The snakes in the basket

lick and stare, lick and stare, lick and stare

 EMMSJÉ GAUTI:

I can feel it, there's something you want with me

I can feel it, you're a little bit lost here

On the books you're a little bit related to me

But we still both end up with our shirts off like Big Ben

  Jónas in my pocket like the world’s great poets, get it

Life's stranger than fiction, I'm like a crash-course in the Haraldur

Ta-talk, talk, I love to be hated

but I'll kill you in writing and then they'll call me Arnaldur

  Motherfucker, yeah, back up, oh!

Were you high, oh!

Were you wasted, so?

You'll be headbutted

 I tiptoe often so I don't get lost in superglue

Clean your teeth and you’ll get a ton of dick

 Graphic design, totally logo

Took away - took but still left

A hideous soul but cool shoes, though

Seyðisfjörður, Paris, Tokyo

Ugly boys love cocoa

Ugly girls hate FOMO

Monkey business, coins for Bóbó

Bag of dicks that’s sold at Costco

 CYBER:

The boys on the beach

sit and dig, sit and dig, sit and dig

The snakes in the basket

lick and stare, lick and stare, lick and stare

 The boys (boys boys boys boys)

sit and dig, chat, chat, sit and dig

The snakes (snakes snakes snakes snakes)

lick and stare stare stare stare stare

Translation notes

Many thanks to @rivers90hatari​ who got me the lyrics as written in a lyrics booklet, which cleared up a lot of stuff here and got this all to make a bit more sense. The written lyrics contain various off-kilter spelling etc., so I figured I’d let my transcript be more written to be more ‘correct’ for the sake of those of you who are studying Icelandic, but to be clear, the official lyrics look a little different.

The word “faust” is used twice in the written lyrics and... I have no idea what that’s supposed to be? It sounds like a middle-voice verb, but I’m drawing a blank as to what the verb is, even if I assume it’s a ‘slurred’ spelling of it. Maybe I’m just having a brainfart, but I’m not finding anything by Googling either. Just from the context it sounds like it refers to a breakup, so I translated it as “left”, but please be aware that this is a context-based guess.

“But we still both end up with our shirts off like Big Ben” sounds like the most cryptic nonsensical line ever written, but it’s actually an amazing Icelandic pun. The Icelandic line is “Endum samt svo bæði úr að ofan eins og Big Ben”. Úr að ofan, which I translated “with our shirts off”, literally means “out on top” - basically, you’re out [of your clothes] on the top half of your body. However, úr also means a watch, as in a wristwatch - so úr að ofan could also technically mean “a watch on top”. Like Big Ben, the tower with a clock on top of it. It took me a couple listens to even get it but once I did, oh my god. Obviously this is in no way translateable, so nonsense line with a translation note it is.

“Jónas” is presumably referring to early nineteenth-century poet Jónas Hallgrímsson, perhaps the most famous Icelandic poet, who played a part in the Icelandic independence movement.

Unfortunately I have no idea what the “crash-course in the Haraldur” is about; Haraldur is a common Icelandic name, and there’s no way to find out what Haraldur is being referenced here given I didn’t immediately know. If you do know, please tell me!

“but I'll kill you in writing and then they'll call me Arnaldur” is referencing beloved mystery writer Arnaldur Indriðason - presumably, by killing someone in writing, Emmsjé Gauti will be comparable to him.

Seyðisfjörður is a town in Iceland with a population of some 700ish people; putting it next to Paris and Tokyo sounds pretty absurd.

“Monkey business, coins for Bóbó” seems to be a reference to a coin-operated fortunetelling monkey named Bóbó that used to be in Eden, a flower shop slash café in Hveragerði (another Icelandic town of about 2700 inhabitants) that burned down in 2011. That’s incredibly obscure and I was not expecting to actually get a definitive result by googling ‘Bóbó’, but given the connection both to “monkey business” and coins, I can’t imagine it’s not a reference to that.

A Costco store opened in Iceland in May 2017; it would’ve been new when CYBER’s Horror album came out.

[glassandmetalwings]

Wings Talks Manga: A Year in Review, Part 1 (Completed stories)

Last year, I told myself I was going to actually really more manga and watch more anime, because despite it being my main style I hadn’t actually read much in awhile. And I actually managed to get a lot done for one year. So below is a list of stories I read/watched and a few quick thoughts on them. Despite having my list open, I’m still probably not going to get to all of them, but I can try.

Be warned for spoilers.

T.egami Bachi (manga)

I love. Anyone following this tag of mine knows this has been a long journey and that I loved every minute of it. The world is beautiful, the characters are great, the emotions run high...it’s incredibly cathartic and engaging. I will never stop lauding it.

Jiu Jiu (manga)

A short series I picked up from the library that I never really covered, but that I enjoyed. Sometimes it felt a little slow to work through, but it was cute and I got really attached to the characters over five volumes. Like the mangaka, I wish there had been more opportunity to delve deeper into some of the story elements, because especially near the end it got confusing. Also I’m assuming it ended in a poly relationship? The protag grows up and has babies but you can’t really tell which love interest is the father, if either are. They’re all together in the final picture and I support it but it also bugs me bc I am confused.

Dreamin’ Sun (manga)

Mixed feelings on this one. I honestly expected a modern fantasy involving a baku going into this based on the back cover. I was wrong. I was really cute, if not overwhelmingly emotionally frustrating/full of secondhand embarassment at some points. The characters are super well-developed and continue to evolve and grow through the series. I will forever complain about the protag falling in love and centering her life around an adult man, but there were also some very touching elements that I can’t help but remember fondly.

The Wize Wize Beasts of the the Wizarding Wizdoms (manga)

The first of a lot of BL I read this year, which is honestly very new to me. My introduction to Nagabe. I’ve mentioned there’s one story I’m not too fond of, but it could be my interpretation of it. Overall very much loved it and especially love the art style.

K.amisama Kiss (manga)

I series I kind of picked up on a whim and absolutely fell in love with. Cute, funny, touching, well-thought out. There were some elements I didn’t understand (like the end), but my enjoyment overall made up for it. The one thing I wish for was a little more development for some of the minor characters. Also I love Mizuki and his development throughout the series. He makes me emotional.

Our Dining Table (manga)

Another cute, simple love story about two guys making food. I don’t have a whole lot to say about this other than it’s cute and you should read it. Although I obviously have no issues with teenage protags, it was refreshing to have a love story about two working adults that didn’t have to involve sex. Also can totally understand one guy’s aversion to eating with others, even if my own isn’t as severe.

Love on the Other Side (manga)

More Nagabe. Really, really cute. I love the story with the bird (of course). The softness of the stories and Nagabe’s art style really have stolen my heart.

B.lack Butler: Book of Circus (anime)

We all know why I watched this. Sadly the ending is as gruesome as the manga, and the one or two scenes they added didn’t play well on the DVD. But still a delight (up until the end).

The Devil is a Part-Timer (anime)

Interesting. Funny. A good world base, but I feel they could have developed it a little more, and the last episode kind of soured it a little for me because there was no really wrap-up. But I liked the characters and had a lot of fun watching it while crocheting. Wish there was a season two.

The Bride was a Boy (manga)

A brief autobiographical manga about a trans woman, filled with lots of tidbits about transgender individuals and things like HRT. Short, sweet, cute, and full of love and joy. Again, not much to say other than I recommend it.

Fractale (anime)

A lot to process. I think I would need to watch it again to fully wrap my head around it, if not more than once. An interesting world, great character, engaging story, and beautiful animation. Plus just...kinda relevant in a way that’s hard to describe. Think ease of technology verses governmental control via tech. I really loved the episode about the mysterious photographer. Plus I just fell in love with the ending song.

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (anime)

Yes, I’d never watched this before. Gonna say, not my favorite Miazaki, but as usual an excellent story with a lot of background and development. And of course I loved the creature design. Glad to finally have it watched, after all these years, but I also can’t help but wonder what the original English release was like, knowing they cut/edited a lot. Because a lot of that violence and death was...kinda necessary to understanding character motives.

H.aibane Renmei (anime)

Again, another series that’s been at the top of my list for forever. I didn’t even have an excuse not to watch is as I own the DVDs. Excellent, and touching, if not cutting a little too close to home at times (like self-harm/BFRB). Really my introduction to ABe, and I have to say I never saw the ending coming. But would definitely watch again and again. Kinda wish I could do a cosplay for this series (I’d probably be Nemu, or one of the masked characters), but I feel like you need a group for it.

G.osick (anime)

I didn’t complete this one, I’m sorry. I think the art is great, and the arcs in concept are amazing...but it falls through in the delivery. The characters don’t really feel like they have driving motives behind their actions, and sometimes the evidence and stuff are things you can’t discern from watching (’I can tell you aren’t the daughter of a coal baron because you walk short distances before turning sharply and walking the other way, like you’re pacing in a small psych ward cell’-yes, that’s a real example). Lots of potential, but not great. Sorry.

Wolf Children (anime)

Very cute. Beautiful anime. I don’t think I can say much about this that hasn’t already been said. My favorite part is the ending where she’s saying goodbye just because of how both painfully and empoweringly emotional it is.

5 Centimeters Per Second (anime)

Not bad, but probably not my favorite. It didn’t help that the version I was watching didn’t translate all of the writing, so I feel like I missed a lot of elements. While the story is definitely a sentiment I can get behind, it was also a little bit unsatisfying for me, especially at the end. But idk, maybe I just don’t like the idea of moving on when there’s the opportunity to not.

Colorful (anime)

It was...a film. About a suicide. Looking back I don’t particularly feel strongly either way about it. I think the ending was good, and giving the protag some sort of motivation, but it took forever to really get to a point where I cared about him (or he seemed to really care about the body he was inhabiting and the person he was trying to be). Some of the stuff was just...uncomfortable. It’s probably worth watching, but overall I wasn’t wowed by it.

Ibistu (manga)

My first shrink-wrapped manga. It ties together very well in the end, and the horror and violence elements did elicit some very visceral reactions in me (particularly the threat of the iron and, later, the staples). The short stories were also good, particularly the doll factory one, but I wasn’t the most fond of the one about the mangaka. Just know there’s a reason it’s shrink-wrapped and it’s not a ‘positive’ one.

A Silent Voice (anime)

Probably one of my favorite films. While I didn’t always understand the motivations behind some of the characters or their actions, it wasn’t in a way that made me uncomfortable like some of the things in Colorful did. It felt more natural for them to be irrational. Again, there is suicide, so be warned if you don’t want to deal with that. But the story is sweet and the characters are amazing. But I also have a weakness for things involving sign language and communication.

Children Who Chase Lost Voices (anime)

Very cool. Beautiful landscapes. Gave me very strong Princess Mononoke vibes at some points, but it also stood as its own story with interesting characters there are elements I wish we could have delved deeper into, though. Also...what war did the teacher fight in? It didn’t look very modern. Also also I will forever wince at the pronunciation of ‘Quetzalcoatl’. Death is a strong theme in it, so be prepared if you watch it.

The Boy and the Beast (anime)

Excellent character design. Excellent story. Excellent animation. My one complaint would be that the climax felt kind of thrown together, even though it tied back to the beginning in a good way. But overall a beautiful world with some great humor and intense elements.

The Garden of Words (anime)

Spoiler: again a story about a kid falling in love with an adult. From a platonic standpoint, the story still feels a little weird, particularly in terms of the woman’s motivations, but looking back her not getting too involved in him missing school...kinda feels like what I would do to, especially in her situation. It’s sweet, though. Maybe it’s just me and my preferences, but some elements feel a bit incomplete, and I wish had been explored/wrapped up.

Summer Wars (anime)

Probably a favorite on the films list. Again, beautiful animation. I’m not going to get over this style. But I especially liked the design of OZ and the excess of blank space in it. Characters were many but great (although I didn’t get the one baseball player was part of the family until almost the end, but that says more about me and paying attention). Even Mom got really engaged in it when I had her watch it with me (I also had her watch Wolf Children, which I thought she would like more, but apparently not). There is a character death, but if you don’t mind that it’s definitely a watch.

Beauty and the Beast Girl (manga)

A cute little story about a blind girl and a dragon girl falling in love-what more could you want? Their histories actually tie together in a really neat way. Honestly my one complaint would be that the ending feels a little too ideal and easily wrapped-up. But sometimes we need things to be that perfect, you know?

P.andora Heart (manga)

The other big story I tackled this year. There were points that were a bit slow/disengaging to me, but overall once I got hooked I really loved it. I think I need a second read to really fully understand it (if that’s possible), but equal parts cute, intense, and bittersweet. Elliot’s whole development was probably my favorite bit.

The God and the Flightless Messenger (manga)

My last story of 2020, and a very cute one at that. Another short story, with beautiful art. I don’t...really know what to say about it. It’s cute, and the love story feels both very natural and almost...secondary? Idk how to describe that. The relationship between the two of them is obviously key, but it’s the type of story where ‘I love you’ isn’t needed. It’s already there.

So yeah, there’s the list. It’s a long list. I probably still missed some. I might try to make a second list with ‘in progress’  series but I’ll be playing that by ear. I’d love to hear some of you all’s thoughts on these stories (if you’ve read/watched them), or which you now want to read/watch!

[mocarena]

post of Chu2 rambles and predictions

i realized i actually needed to make this now that S3 is knocking me down with anticipation

blabla this thread is long as heck and incomprehensible so aha good luck if youre actually trying to read thru it. i just wanted a place to write my predictions down to see how right or how utterly wrong i am! whole thing’s under a read more cuz its a lot

spoilers for S2, the RAiSe! manga, and small spoiler for Film Live

Exhibit: Songs

I’m starting off with talking RAS’ songs because they give me a good basis to talk on several things regarding the band & Chu2.

There might be mentions of other songs, but I will focus on 2 in particular.

Takin’ My Heart

Imo, the most important piece in regards to Chu2 and her character.

That is due to Radio Riot #7 having revealed that the song is literally about Chu2’s beliefs/feelings.

It is also written by her in the Bandori canon (as all RAS songs are since she is the producer, but we know for sure with the Radio confirmation & also how the song came out past Season 2 that this is a song written with Chu2’s perspective in mind).

Raychell even said that she once cried singing the song during her own practice time.

Information source: Iviachupichu on Twitter, a faithful translator who often talks about the contents of Radio Riot episodes. Link https://twitter.com/iviachupichu/status/1106469855757164544!

TL of the song taken from http://www.rizuchan.com/bang-dream-cardfight-vanguard-takin-my-heart/ !!

Long falling down again I’m immature, building up lies and distancing myself from others I feel all torn up; I hold my heart Try to fake a smile… hey, my cheeks hurt

Cry… I hide my rusted eyes Cry… I want you to notice Oh, Come here, Please…

Takin’ my heart Does my voice Takin’ my heart Reach you now…? Takin’ my heart I don’t want to vanish pathetically Takin’ my heart Into a sea of loneliness I’ll just keep crying out to you Today, tomorrow, and for a long time after (Without giving up) I hope my feelings reach you…!

^ not the full TL, just a taste of the beginning

Clearly I don’t have to point out how heartfelt that song is, the lyrics speak for themself and aren’t very subtle (which is very much the point since she’s asking for her feelings to be reached after all).

I’m stupidly annoying when it comes to talking about Takin’ My Heart, I absolutely need to emphasize on the fact that these lyrics are Chu2’s honest feelings.

Expect parts of this song to be brought up throughout this a whole lot.

2. UNSTOPPABLE

Now this song has no confirmation on being composed with Chu2 in mind, considering it’s a very early RAS song and has been sung before we even got the reveal of the RAS characters.

However, I believe it DOES hold significance:

-I have no doubts that the introduction of RAS characters together with the band were in mind early on already, due to how early Bushiroad plans things months in advance.

-RIOT, the first RAS original, has very clear tones of it having been written by Chu2 in Bandori canon (a very arrogant sounding song, sure of its music and it almost seems like it’s directed at Yukina). Thus I wouldn’t put it past the production team having formed Chu2’s character around RIOT and UNSTOPPABLE, or they already had her type of character in mind when first composing these songs.

-It’s not far-fetched to say this song might have some ties to Chu2’s feelings since we’ve got the even more blatant song Takin’ My Heart.

I won’t copy paste all of the lyric translations, it’s simply too long, but here are several parts that stick out to me:

———————

The emptiness springs forth like I'm helplessly thirsty

My back droops... I put too much hope in each day

(Hurry up)

「Don't let me down」, I'm always told

(Hurry up)

Cornered, mouth covered, difficulty breathing

I'm caught in a trap

Please indulge in my annoying ramblings

I just won't stop seeking approval every day

Me, I'm my own accomplice,

with a fake me, dance! Dance! (Lullaby)

Doubt and worry stick their tongues out,

pointing at and ridiculing me

Are you enjoying? Are you excited?

Yes? Do you really get it?

Then that's fine

———————

Please ignore my annoying ramblings

I'll just abandon seeking approval every day

———————

My belief of UNSTOPPABLE still having an intended Chu2 connection also lies within the lyrics:

“Please indulge in my annoying ramblings, I just won't stop seeking approval every day”

From what we’ve seen in the anime, Chu2 definitely seems very attention and approval-seeking, specifically when it comes to Yukina.

I will talk about more specific parts of these songs (+ other one-liners from RAS lyrics) within the rest of this big time ramble.

————————————————

Exhibit: Chu2’s Past….?

A big emphasis on the question mark at the end, as we barely know anything about her past. One thing we know is that due to her excellent grades, she is in her first year of high school despite being only 14 & she studies/studied(?) in an international school, explaining her use of English.

However, based on RAS songs + some bits of the anime I can try to theorize on her past. It might be completely wrong, or I might just get it right, who knows, this is just for fun & speculation.

Family Situation

The anime made a point of how luxurious of a building the studio Chu2 works and has band rehearsals in, there’s even a ~50 seconds scene of Tae just staring at the building and the insides of it in awe.

Now whether or not that building entirely belongs to Chu2’s family, or only the studio, or it’s only being rented out, it still is clearly very expensive either way. The studio is often being used after all, too.

What that very glaringly hints at is that Chu2 is wealthy. Well, not Chu2, but moreso her family, who we know virtually nothing of.

Now that could mean that her family situation isn’t of significance at all like how it is with a lot of characters in Bandori. But that could also not be the case, considering that Bushiroad does dip into family stuff with a few characters (Saaya, Ran and Yukina come to mind).

Chu2 is 14 years old, so having her lyrics be based off of feelings regards her family/overall social situation isn’t that far fetched.

I’ll go ahead and say that personally I theorize that this might fall into the tropey category of “Kid of rich parents gets practically anything but barely gets attention from their parents”.

I can easily believe that Bushiroad would want to take a route different from this, but there’s a lot of freedom for theorization and I think going with the common route is a pretty safe bet for a theory.

Unlike Betadori they don’t dip into territory that is too angsty, it seems, but it’s not like they’d need to be blatant about something like that either.

「Don't let me down」, I'm always told

———

Please indulge in my annoying ramblings

I just won't stop seeking approval every day

———

Please ignore my annoying ramblings

I'll just abandon seeking approval every day

^UNSTOPPABLE lyrics

I think it’s important to point out the difference between the last two bits. The lyrics first start out as a plead for listening to her and approving of her achievings, later in the song that part changes to ‘just ignore me please’.

Those lyrics also explain Chu2’s personality pretty well, in my opinion.

Even after being rejected by Yukina she kept trying to get her to watch her band, basically asking for approval from someone whose talent she looks up to.

I also believe that Chu2 might be an unhealthy perfectionist, which seems like a thing that might rise the tension within the band, but more to that later.

————————————————

Exhibit: Chu2 in the Present

The childish child who won’t let herself be a child

Now if that ain’t a mouthful of a title, but hopefully I can explain my thoughts well enough so it’s somewhat understandable.

Chu2 clearly has a bratty personality and throws tantrums when she doesn’t get what she wants, but to me it doesn’t seem as shallow as that.

The official website describes her as a professional who is arrogant at times, but not rude.

Need I remind you that this girl’s just 14?

Here’s what I think:

Chu2 is a child at heart. But she doesn’t want to let that part of hers show too much due to how she wants to be treated: like a professional.

But she’s clearly an excitable child, as it was shown with how excited she got over the studio when she came to talk to Popipa in Arisa’s basement. For that moment she lost herself and probably could’ve gone on for a while Maya-style if Pareo hadn’t reminded her of her “official greeting”.

What I think is that Chu2, due to wanting to be treated with high respect   as a producer, doesn’t want to appear childish, so she holds herself back unless the heat of the moment gets her or she feels like she can express her excitement without it damaging her ‘professional’ manners. Like when she got pumped after a RAS live, for example.

A quote that could be overlooked but might actually have a little bit of relevance if the words were carefully chosen was the following:

“She thinks playing “band” like a bunch of kids is better than being in my group?!”

Tbh this literal child using the phrase ‘like a bunch of kids’ for something like…well, a band of friends being a band, just makes her seem like she wants to take herself incredibly seriously compared to other bands. To show that they’re not “kids” like the others.

In addition to that, she skipped a grade. In an international school. She seems to be really set on providing the best grades and world-changing music to appear worthy without letting herself indulge all that much in living a childhood. I could totally be exaggerating things, but I think it’s not too far-fetched of a thought.

Tantrums

Not a subject I’ll talk long about, but I think there’s things worth pointing out.

She’ll wait until whoever she’s angry at is out of her sight.

With Yukina she started yelling once Roselia was completely gone.

With Otae it’s a bit of a different case. This time she verbally even told her to get out of her sight before letting off steam, though Popipa weren’t completely out of hearing reach either.

2. She looks genuinely distressed.

The purpose of pointing out #2 is that she seems to have deeper reasonings as to why exactly she’s this desperate to have the perfect band/band members. Especially paired with the line of “I finally found what I’ve been looking for…”, she clearly isn’t doing this stuff just for fun and has got some sort of inner turmoil dealing with the fact that things aren’t going her way to which she responds, well, like that.

She’s not entitled to any bands or like anyone else obviously, and she needs to deal with that fact more maturely in the future.

But still, something HAS to be the root of exactly why she feels like this, to finally have found something.

It’s of importance to her, but why…?

I’d throw out the theory of seeking for approval again. She wants the perfect band that could make impact on the world. Maybe she wants the approval of someone (not Yukina, as she’s been searching for a while and clearly already felt this way before even seeing Roselia), probably someone older and personal to her. So I’d bet it on parents again, it IS the easiest answer after all, but who knows. There just seems to be someone (or more) she wants to impress.

Probably related to her bc it seems personal, if not maybe someone else she looks up to.

---------

Exhibit: I wrote all the above way before I’m writing this part

I genuinely haven’t revised the above at this point of time, the 7th of January. So some stuff might be outdated, but I kinda wanna leave it like that, to see what past me has come up with. I vaguely know and have skimmed, but I wanna write more beyond this point now without knowing the details.

Aka I might repeat a lot of things here now!

CHU2 is actually very much in tune with people’s feelings & desires...when they express them through music.

Now I’m pretty sure this is something I haven’t talked about (or at least not much). Chu2 doesn’t strike one as a very empathetic character, as one has seen with how she was still willing to get Otae back into her band, despite Popipa’s deep bond.

But hear me out. This girl actually can understand other’s feelings well, under specific circumstances. And the RAS manga “RAiSe!” proved that.

With each RAS member, it seems like she just knew their desires upon hearing them play. It’s not yet confirmed with Pareo due to Pareo’s 2nd chapter not having been published yet at this point of time, but chapter 1 already leads up to what I think is Chu2 confronting Pareo (online invitation first), and understanding that Pareo holds her true self back.

With Layer she knew she was unhappy- she knew she didn’t want to keep playing support. She knew she didn’t look very happy, especially for someone who played at Budokan. And through that knowledge she was able to persuade her to listen to her music and to imagine what it’d be like in a band together with other members who’d give it their all.

Very much the same with Masking. Masking’s drumming is intense, and she feels like she cannot express herself well outside of drumming. Her desire was to have fun in a band with others on her level, where every member gave it their all on their instruments. Once again, Chu2 was able to convince her to join her band, she let her listen to her track, and Masking did improv drumming on it, in turn also impressing the producer.

Pareo’s desire is to be accepted for who she is. Since she was small she hid her true self that loves cute things, and kept her distance from classmates, pretending to be the perfect student in the eyes of them, her teachers, her parents...and when she first saw Pasupare on TV, she cried due to seeing how much support they got, something she didn’t feel like she received. She found joy in uploading videos of her doing keyboard pasupare covers online without showing her face. The simple prediction here is that Chu2 finds her covers, meets with Pareo in one way or another, and is able to tell that she hides her true self. Somehow she convinces her to change that and embrace her true self, and that she’ll be supported by the band.

RAS songs often are about going against the norm- RIOT for example symbolizes a rebellion. Masking heard the demo song Chu2 gave her, and got the impression that it made one feel like you want to declare war against the world. That it seemed like “that girl” was trying to raise hell itself with her intense music. Even short bits like in DRIVE US CRAZY, one lyric line goes “Never Say Never Crazy”. RAS is a band about expressing your true self. And Chu2 very much could be putting those kinda desires and feelings into these songs.

A little thought here about Chu2 watching Popipa performances on two occasions with very different reactions. When Popipa played a supporting band at Roselia’s self-sponsored live, Chu2 was shown to be very disinterested in them. Whilst Popipa was great, Chu2 might’ve felt the anxiety that Popipa had in them at that point of time and thus had that disinterest. At the Popipa self-sponsored live at the end of S2 however she showed a completely different reaction, dancing happily along to Dreamers Go! and being embarrassed upon Pareo noticing. Maybe at this point she truly felt Popipa’s real confidence, and the bond that they share.

Not to mention she admitted to having felt moved by Popipa later on.

Chu2′s got something big coming. Hopefully in S3. Maybe later on. (Cough RAS in game COUGH)

There’s just a whole lot of signs pointing to that. Especially since Lock, the future RAS guitarist, really is an opposite to Chu2′s own ideals. All Lock wants to do is have fun in a band with anyone at any level of playing instruments, as long as she feels the dokidokis. Chu2 is very profession-oriented. It also has a great potential to be a little bit of a Roselia parallel, since that was the band Chu2 originally wanted to be the producer of. And Roselia had their struggles with the just-pro approach, learning that forming strong friendships within the band very much are beneficial.

A little step towards that I feel is already hinted with the Film Live, in which she appeared backstage with the rest of RAS, bringing flowers together with Pareo.

Even if she is huffy about it and it’s hard to admit for her that she does want to be nice and that she had been in the wrong regards past issues, it’s a step in the right direction.

Chu2 will have great development, and a lot of depth behind her character will be revealed.

[whereisten]

The Wedding Singer 

Summary: You are an up-and-coming singer and songwriter who is thriving in the wedding singer business. When you find yourself singing for your former best friend Samantha Perez and not-so-former crush Yuta Nakamoto, shit really hits the fan. 

Multi-part series: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Part 1

Word Count: 4,000 words 

Being a wedding singer in Miami, Florida was no simple feat, you thought to yourself. There was no one quite like a picky bride. But a picky bride and groom? That was another challenge in itself.

Especially on this specific day. April 29, 2019. You were meeting your clients in their lavish home in Brickell. Everything was very pristine but cold. You felt like you were in a homey clinic.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you!” A young woman rejoiced when she welcome you inside. “Thank you so much for seeing us on such short notice. I’m Renee Torres.” Renee was the one who contacted the agency.

“It’s nice to meet you! My manager told me this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up so here I am!” You felt a little more at ease with meeting a friendly bridesmaid. Thankfully, she wasn’t catty like other bridesmaids you’ve had to interact with. “Fantastic, if you’ll just follow me.” Renee led you into the living room.

“Sam. Yuta. This is Y/N!” Renee left you with the couple.

Your heart fell when you heard her name.

And his.

Holy mother of God. Samantha Perez.

And Yuta Nakamoto.

“Y/N!” Your former friend Samantha Perez stood up from her loveseat and hugged you. “How long has it been? Eight years?”

“Oh my God, Samantha,” You said as you lost whatever oxygen you had left in that second.

“Y/N,” Yuta said as he joined you and Samantha. “It’s so great to see you.”

And there he was. The boy of your dreams. Well, no longer a boy. But still possessed that boyish charm that wrapped everyone around his little finger. Yuta Nakamoto was a star basketball player even when he was in middle school. You always hid behind your group of friends when you all went to every one of his home games. You drew the line at traveling to his away games, unless it was a championship.

Yuta was always beautiful. A radiant smile from the very first day you met. He was always kind to you in every class you’ve ever shared. He’d lend you a pencil on the very rare occasion when you were the one asking for one. He danced with you at homecoming when no one had asked you and you were very near the point of crying all the way home, feeling sorry for yourself. He bought you a rose every year on Valentine’s Day.

Well, he did that for every one of his female friends back then. But still. He didn’t have to do that.

But that was Yuta. The nicest “could’ve been a dick because he’s hot and popular but was not” guy.

As for Samantha, she was always beautiful, too. With her flawless makeup and fantastic bone structure. Her excellent sense of fashion. Heels that could you me neatly in the heart if she kicked you to the ground . Samantha also went to every one of Yuta’s basketball games with you and your friends, you recalled. However, once sophomore year started, she dipped and started hanging out exclusively with the popular kids. She did a complete 180 with you and until this day, you never understood why.

So eventually you stopped wondering.

Until today.

Once Samantha released you from her vise-like grip, Yuta hugged you and your throat went completely dry. He smelled just as amazingly as you remembered. Woodsy mixed with his cologne that he’d used since high school.

When Yuta released you, you said, “Congratulations to you both.” Very convincing, Y/N. Hopefully, they let you leave after singing a song and decide to go in a different direction so you never have to see them again.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Samantha said as she sidehugged Yuta. She was really rubbing it in your face. Especially since she knew you were in love with him for the longest time. Even before she was. Samantha may have crushed on Yuta like the rest of your friend group had. But she had many boyfriends throughout high school. But never Yuta.

“I had no idea you sang, Y/N,” Yuta said, looking particularly interested in you.

“She was spectacular in the junior year talent show,” Samantha nearly purred in his ear. She was massaging his chest. You had to fight yourself from cringing outwardly.

That wasn’t a compliment. Samantha was toying with me. We were supposed to be having a business conversation but Samantha was talking to Yuta like she was ready to rip his clothes off. And it would increase her libido if she did it in front of me.

You shivered.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Yuta asked. For someone who was clearly getting seduced in front of a third person, he was awfully attentive.

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

He smiled. Fuck you, Nakamoto. I know you don’t know the effect you have on people, especially me. And that pisses me off.

Samantha began, “Well, Y/N. Renee sent you a list of songs that we’re interested in having performed at the ceremony as well as the reception. So I would like to hear a song from each selection.”

You gulped. You’ve always dreamed of serenading Yuta when you finally had the courage. You thought the chance passed you by. But now that you had a chance, it was too late.

Samantha and Yuta sat back down on the loveseat. Samantha motioned for you to start.

“Which song did you pick from the ceremony list?” She asked.

“Let’s Stay Together by Al Green,” you replied.

Yuta’s big smile reappeared. He really needed to quit it or else you were going to place your head under a faucet and let cold water run over your head.

Samantha said, “Begin at anytime.”

So you did. You took a deep breath. Released. Closed your eyes and gave it to them acapella.

You stopped after the first chorus. Yuta jumped out of his seat and clapped. Samantha clapped politely from her seat.

“Y/N, your voice is incredible. You’re hired!” Yuta said as he took your hands.

You tried to hold onto his praise and not the fact that he was holding your freakin’ hands.

Samantha got up from her seat. You removed yourself from Yuta’s grasp. Samantha said, “Sweetie, I would like her to sing a song from the reception playlist and then we can discuss it.”

Yuta shot her a look. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked to be in disbelief.

Enjoy being married to that, Yuta. God help you.

“Okay,” you said, “I’ll sing Yours by Ella Henderson.” As much as you detested Samantha, she had the same taste in music as you and you had to give her high praise for her song selection.

As you sang again, you felt more confident. You felt secure and powerful. You had a gift to share with the world, you told yourself. And if Samantha didn’t see that, she could fuck off. You could sing at as many weddings as you wanted. And hopefully, someday, score a recording and songwriting contract.

When you finished once again with the chorus, Yuta turned right over to Samantha. “There’s no question. She’s the one.”

Not the right choice of words, Yuta. I winced.

Samantha sighed. “Of course, she is. Y/N, you’re hired.”

;;

Jungwoo was cackling across from you at the cafe table. He couldn’t stop. Johnny cringed but you knew he was fighting the laughter that would escape him at any second.

“Jungwoo...it’s not that funny,” you groaned.

Johnny caved. “Are you kidding me? It’s hilarious. Yuta is getting married to that she-demon?”

“Yes,” you replied.

“Yuta was always smart. He took AP Physics with us!” Johnny protested.

“Booksmart doesn’t always translate to lifesmart. If that’s even a word…” You should propose it to Webster’s Dictionary.

“Dude, you must’ve felt like your heart was being RIPPED out of your chest and stomped on the ground. For hours. To the rhythm of a Cascada song. That intensely.” Jungwoo was always so profound.

And merciless.

“Well, It’s been eight years so thankfully, I only cried once since the meeting,” you answered.

Mind you, the meeting was yesterday afternoon.

“So you’re going to do it?” Jungwoo asked.

“Why not? They’re paying me a fortune.”

“Samantha has it out for you to this day,” Johnny warned.

“Oh, I know. But...the more I thought about it...she’d want me to run and hide. I mean, she’ll also want to see me squirm at her wedding. A present no one else can give her but me. My pain and suffering.”

“Why go through with it? Why are you letting her torture you-oh God, you think Yuta will change his mind and run away with you? Oh honey bunches…” Jungwoo took my hands in his. Uh oh…he only threw “honey bunches” out when I was being truly pitiful.

You smacked him. “Don’t be silly. Yuta and I are never going to happen. We were and always will be platonic. He’s an undeniable flirt and too nice for his own good. That’s something Samantha will have to deal with. But me? I’m going to sing my ass off and make everyone cry like they’ve never cried before. I’m not going to let Samantha get to me.”

Much.

Johnny frowned. “I hope you’re right…”

“Sometimes I gotta be. And this is one of those cases in which I am!”

“Alright alright...Let’s change the subject.” Jungwoo scratched his blonde coconut head.

You smiled. “How’s it going with Vanessa these days?”

He blushed while Johnny chuckled. “She’s great, Y/N. She’s the first girl who has ever laughed at my jokes without a hidden agenda.”

“And how can you tell?” Johnny asked. He gave me a knowing smile as he directed that question to our friend.

“Because I walked her to her apartment and she cooked me dinner and then sent me off.” Jungwoo had a daydreaming look on his face. He was smitten.

“And you weren’t upset about that?” You asked.

“Not at all. I want to take it slow.”

You cooed. “Our little Jungwoo is finally becoming a man.” You, Johnny, and Jungwoo befriended each other during your stint of musical theater at the University of Miami. It was yours and Johnny’s senior year and Jungwoo’s freshman year back then. Three years later, Jungwoo was a senior now. Johnny was a producer, working at DC Records, a very affluent label in the States. You were very proud of your friends.

They were still idiots, though, and that made you feel even more fond of them.

“Okay okay next topic,” Jungwoo demanded.

You sighed. “Well, Samantha is so anal that she’s choreographed her entire wedding.”

Johnny and Jungwoo frowned at each other in confusion.

“Which means I’m going to every rehearsal, even if I’m not ‘performing’ the entire time,” you said.

“You sure it’s not Yuta who enjoys a good musical number?” Johnny chuckled.

“Yuta, as perfect as he may be, is no dancer,” you answered.

“I seem to remember you raving about how Yuta was an amazing dancer after Homecoming junior year,” Johnny delivered that sucker punch.

High school you had a big mouth. “But then we saw his Cupid Shuffle senior year.”

Jungwoo begged, “Send that video my way, please. I gotta see what is so special about this Yuta Watanabe.”

You and Johnny corrected him, “Nakamoto.”

Jungwoo shrugged. “Whatever.”

;;

A week had passed since you were hired by Yuta and Samantha. Today was the first day of rehearsal for the ceremony AND the reception. The rehearsal space was at the Brickell City Centre Ballroom. The ceilings ran high with diamond chandeliers. The dance floor stretched far and wide. Although the tables were covered, you already knew you would love to have your own wedding here. It probably cost a fortune.

The irony? This wasn’t the venue for the happy couple’s wedding.

There were over 50 people present. Most likely, some of them were dancers while the rest was the wedding party. You recognized some of your high school classmates. Although you weren’t particularly chummy with any of them, you still greeted each other.

Samantha got up on the stage and spoke into the microphone. “Alright folks, we’ll get started in ten minutes. In the meantime, feel free to grab some water bottles and snacks!”

Maybe Samantha could be redeemed. You walked over to the snack table. Your heart almost stopped when you nearly tripped on your wedge. Oh for God’s sake...Please don’t let me fall.

You almost did but someone grabbed you before you kissed the floor. You awkwardly clung onto a stranger as he dipped you. You two looked like you were in a freeze frame of a tango.

You looked up into the brown eyes of your savior and your body temperature reached astronomical levels. His eyes and even his eyebrows were sharp, making his face all the more striking. His black hair tickled your right shoulder.

“Oh my God I am so sorry! Thank you for catching me.” You rambled as you regained your balance and let him go.

He asked, “Are you okay? You seem panicked.”

So much for thinking you had it together.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you reassured him.

He lifted an eyebrow and it was the most attractive thing you’d ever seen. “If you say so. I’m Taeyong, by the way. The best man.” He offered his hand.

You shook his hand a little too enthusiastically. “Oh, hi. I’m Y/N. The wedding singer.”

“Oh, so you’re the infamous Y/N.”

“Oh dear God…what did Samantha say about me?” Yeah, you were panicked.

Taeyong chuckled. “Nothing. Yuta’s the one who wouldn’t stop talking about your voice.”

You blushed at yourself for jumping to conclusions and being in the presence of this man. “Oh.”

Taeyong said, “I can’t wait to hear you for myself.”

You gulped. It was the way he said it. You didn’t know if everything that he said came off so sensually or if it was all in your head.

;;

Rehearsals were in full swing. The wedding party was practicing their ceremonial entrance. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were paired up. Maid of honor Renee was paired up with Taeyong. He had an effect on everyone, it seemed, because Renee was almost to the point of melting.

Renee told you that you would be able to leave in the next hour after your rehearsal to the ceremonial entrance. The wedding party and the others would scrutinize you, then. Including the best man. And suddenly, all of the nerves hit you.

No, Y/N. These are clients. They don’t know anything about you and if they did, they would remember your Jesse McCartney phase and that you took very meticulous notes in every class you had together. That was that. None of them cared about how you liked Yuta. Everyone liked Yuta. There was even a waitlist to ask Yuta out in high school. So what made you stand out from the other girls? You were just a nice girl from high school, okay? Now show them who you grew up to be.

You got up on the stage and stood up at the mic, having pre arranged the songs with the sound guy. You were waiting to get approval from Samantha that Johnny perform piano and guitar with you, come wedding day.

It was just you and the microphone. And surprisingly, this was the first time you weren’t anticipating Yuta’s reaction.

Samantha and Yuta approved your cover of “Let’s Stay Together” that they decided that you would perform it during the ceremonial entrance.

The instrumental began. You sang the first verse. “I’m...I’m so in love with you. Whatever you want to do...is alright with me…”

You didn’t know what it was that happened to you when you sang. You just kind of transformed into the version of yourself you wished you could always be. Jungwoo told you that you turned into a seductress when you sang. Johnny said that you should own who you were and never look back.

You liked to close your eyes when you sang so you could really get into the song. But you chose to make eye contact with Taeyong since he was a stranger and in that moment you found it easiest to interact with him. Plus, you wanted him to know that you were interested and see if you really were a seductress.

Might as well shoot your shot.

When the song ended, you were overwhelmed by the roaring applause and you smiled. They could call you Miss Colgate Optic White with how big your smile was that moment. Taeyong was grinning right at you. You only noticed that he had moved closer to the stage. There was a little girl right beside him. She had wavy blonde hair and brown eyes.

She looked a lot like Samantha.

Samantha gave you a thumbs up and motioned for you to leave the stage. That was it for today. Thank the Lord. ��You went to grab your purse and water bottle when the little girl surprised you and only stared at you.

“Hi…” You said carefully.

The little girl took this as a cue to let it all out. “Oh my God, you are amazing. You are better than Leona Lewis, Ariana Grande, Alicia Keys, and Adele combined. And you’re pretty like a princess.”

The little girl couldn’t have been more than seven years old. She was adorable and very enthusiastic. Her words warmed your heart. “Thank you. Nah, I wouldn’t say that. But I do want to be a singer like them. Someday.”

The little girl’s mouth opened. “Please. That would be awesome! I’m Sonya!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sonya. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N, will you marry my brother?” She asked.

Well, that was a shock. You laughed. “Who’s your brother?” It sounded like you were entertaining the possibility of marrying her brother.

“Taeyong!” Sonya yelled.

Wait.

Taeyong, you realized, hadn’t been that far away from you and Sonya during your little exchange. He approached you. Sonya wrapped herself around one of his legs. “This is my big brother, Taeyong.”

“We’ve met, Sonya,” Taeyong said as he smiled fondly down at his sister and met your gaze with that same expression.

“She is perfect for you,” Sonya said, “I know he’s a neat freak and very very bossy but he’s a great guy. I think his plushie collection is pretty cool, too. Do you like plushies, Y/N?”

Taeyong gaped at his sister. You giggled.

“A plushie collection, huh?” You teased.

“He has Piplup and Pikachu and Rilakkuma, too,” Sonya bragged. “He would buy you a lot of plushies, Y/N. So please marry him.”

“Sonya, why do you want me to get married so badly?” Taeyong asked.

Sonya sighed. “Because Sam is getting married. And I want you to be happy, too.”

Wait a minute. What did Samantha have to do with this?

“Wait, how do you know Samantha, Sonya?” You couldn’t hide the frown on your face.

“She’s my sister, Y/N. She is my sister from Mommy and Taeyong is my brother from Daddy,” Sonya said. She definitely said this a lot.

You couldn’t conceal your shock.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost,” Taeyong said, concerned.

“You and Samantha…” You began.

“Step-siblings. Sonya is our half-sister,” Taeyong explained.

How did you not know about this?

“Oh.” That was all you could muster.

“So what do you say, Y/N?” Sonya asked. “Will you give my brother a chance?” Sonya looked so hopeful and kind and radiant.

You started to see the resemblance to Samantha. The wide-eyed dreamy expression she used to have when you were in primary school. The giggly and teasing lilt in her voice. Her laugh most of all.

“Sonya, leave Y/N alone,” Taeyong said.

Sonya pouted. “Fine. But I’ll try again next time. And the time after that. And the time after that. You are coming to the next practice, right Y/N?”

You nodded.

“Good!” Sonya smiled. “There’s hope! Bye Y/N!” Sonya ran off to Yuta. Yuta scooped Sonya off the ground and spun her in circles.

“Y/N?” Taeyong asked cautiously.

You looked at him. “Samantha and I were friends. A long time ago.”

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“It...didn’t end well.”

“But if that were true, why are you here?” He asked.

“Good point. There’s a lot of reasons I can think of.”

“Like?” Taeyong wasn’t hiding his intrigue.

“Please don’t laugh.”

“Now you know if you start off with that...There’s a guarantee that I will laugh,” he said.

“That is so true.” You sighed and continued. “She and Yuta hired me because...I clearly don’t suck at what I do.”

“Oh, definitely not.” Taeyong gave you a deep, meaningful look. Like he had more to say.

You gulped. “And Samantha probably wanted to throw it in my face that she was marrying Yuta.”

“You know Yuta?” He asked. A trace of disappointment was on his face. It was almost as if he knew where this was going.

“We all went to school together up until high school. Samantha and I were chapter members of the Yuta Nakamoto fan club.”

He asked, “Wait, that was an actual club? I thought Yuta’s high school friends were bluffing.”

“There wasn’t an actual club. There may as well have been. The waiting list to date Yuta was very real, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Were you on the waiting list?”

You laughed. “Hell, no. I didn’t think I had the right to be.” You regretted saying that last sentence. Your low self-esteem from high school was coming back in waves.

He glared, his jawline very prominent in that second. “Is that so?”

“I...have no idea why I’m telling you all of this but...don’t look too much into it. I’m just here to do my job.” And then go home and have some green apple sangria to numb the pain.

“You...don’t still like him, do you?” Taeyong asked. “Yuta?”

You winced. “Do you want me to lie?”

“Nope.”

“I kinda still do. But it’s been years since I’ve seen Samantha and Yuta. I don’t know who they are now. I never really knew Yuta in high school, either. We weren’t that close of friends.”

Taeyong still looked annoyed.

“What’s with that look?” You asked.

“I was going to ask you out...but now with the truth out…I’m not so sure.”

Your jaw dropped. Someone was going to have to help you pick it up off the ground. “Wait, what?”

“From the moment you grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask you out. And then I caught you before you fell. And then you sang. And then it was really over for me.” Taeyong moved closer to you.

You didn’t want anyone to be suspicious of you and Taeyong. After the bomb dropped that Taeyong was Samantha’s brother, you were even more on your toes.

“Taeyong…” You didn’t know what to say. He felt a spark, just like you did. Who knew your clumsiness could work in your favor?

“If you’re still into Yuta…” Taeyong said.

You interjected. “Taeyong, I’m attracted to Yuta. But do I like him enough to really say I like him? Even love him? No.”

Taeyong put his hands in his pants pockets, waiting.

“Taeyong, we just met. I think we still need to get to know each other before we entertain the idea of a date.” You couldn’t believe you were saying this. Did the fact that Samantha was his sister now deter you at all?

His somberness faded completely. “Really?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Okay, well how about a movie tonight?” He didn’t waste anytime.

“What were you thinking of watching?” Please say horror. Please say horror. Please say horror.

“I’ve been wanting to see The Conjuring 3...Are you into scary movies?” He asked, hopeful.

It was as if the Lord smiled down upon you at that second.

Well, that day, the Lord smiled down upon you. Multiple times.

Part 2 (Coming Soon)

[happymetalgirl]

Rammstein - untitled

As soon as it was confirmed for 2019, Rammstein’s seventh studio album was always going to be one of the biggest metal releases of the year, if not the biggest, and it was actually nice to see the band use that to their advantage and give the album a worthily ceremonial roll-out. The promotion alone was a welcome return to times when big artists generally put more effort into their album promo cycles. I get that it got a little overdone in its time, and I get that not every artist has at their disposal the means to give their upcoming records the kind of red carpet treatment that Rammstein has given theirs. And sudden/short-notice, unprecedented album drops have been a cool way for artists to show their confidence in their work and reputation to build their own hype on exactly that suddenness. But in a day and age where sudden project releases carry much less surprise factor now and seem more to be symptomatic of short attention spans and capitalizing on a trend, Rammstein's more magnificent promotional phase for their first album in a decade was a nice change of pace, for me at least. From the incrementally released trailers and teasers for each song, the big broadcast of the single "Radio", to cryptic early social media messages and the delay of the very reveal of the title (or lack thereof) and cover art, Rammstein did a lot to take advantage of their ability to give their album a more committed old-school promotion when few else were doing so. Whereas the once brave, sudden nonchalant album drop has now grown dejected and taken on a possibility to be interpreted as nervousness to hype what might not live up to such hype (it can't disappoint and not live up to the hype if you don't give it any hype), a big roll-out like this has once again become a real sign of confidence in one's work, and based on their seventh album’s roll-out, Rammstein knew they had put together a hell of a comeback album. And that became incredibly clear as soon as the band released their most monumental combined visual and auditory statement to date with the music video for the first single and opening track "Deutschland".

The song itself is a sobering, grand, sorrowfully heart-wrenching cry for the band's homeland and its long, tumultuous struggle to overcome its infamously dark history. It's the kind of tough, honest, and well-timed critical look that I must give Rammstein respect for making, and the huge production and ambitious concept of the music video directed by Specter Berlin do justice to both the song and its uneasy (to say the least) subject matter. It's the kind of biting commentary that the video for Childish Gambino's "This Is America" was so revered for last year, though I honestly think that the Childish Gambino song itself has been largely overrated outside the context of the video and that "Deutschland" is an even more fearlessly convicting song and its video and even more artistically accomplished national critique (as it should have with its evidently bigger budget). But to get into the song itself since it’s on topic, “Deutschland” is a conflicted cry for the band’s homeland and the aftermath of its darkest days it is still struggling to overcome. The lyrics highlight Germany’s pride in its achievements and its unyielding ambition, but how that pride and ambition has been twisted into a kind of malignant narcissism to produce some of history’s most despicable atrocities (with the band not at all coy about the history they bring up, with the reference to Übermensch and the former national anthem line “Deutschland Deutschland über allen”). The instrumental of the song is dynamic and rides in tune with the lyrics’ heaviness perfectly all the way through, and the resounding bellow of the chant, “Deutschland”, provides the burst of sonic and poetic intensity that makes the song such a standout track. And the sorrow and sincere wish to love this complicated and slowly healing Germany is conveyed magnificently in Till Lindemann’s subtly heart-wrenching vocal performance. If it’s not already obvious from the preceding verbiage in this paragraph, “Deutschland” is undoubtedly going to be near or at the top of my song list at the end of this year.

Moving on from my favorite song of 2019 so far, the second single and second track on the album, “Radio”, which had a similarly big release, is possibly the catchiest song on the album with its groovy guitar riff, its keyboard sprinkling on top, and its fittingly infectious chorus. The song is another example of what I think is one of Rammstein’s most overlooked traits, and that is Till Lindemann’s lyricism. The song deals with an escape from life and a finding of pleasure through radio, as is pretty apparent by the title. The lyrics carry a good deal of sexual overtones, and though the line translates to putting one’s ear up to hear the radio, I’m pretty sure Lindemann chose the wording of “Mein Ohr ganz nah am” to resemble “my orgasm”. To possibly look way too deep into this and link it to German history, the band members grew up in the part of Berlin in East Germany, which was basically an impoverished hell hole under Soviet rule, and the band have expressed before their frustration with the forced insulation of the old regime. The radio referred to in the song is specified to be one the picks up international broadcasts, the wonders of which I imagine Rammstein and other Berliners in East Germany were depply inspired by and longed desperately to get any taste they could of (which the voracious appetite the women had for the radios in the music video and the revolt it led to supports).

Third in the track listing is the song “Zeig Dich”(meaning “Show Yourself), whose orthodoxical introductory chant opens the heavy quick-rhythm-driven guitar riff base of the song and its religious critique excellently. The quick calling cards the lyrics bring up to identify the subject of the song as the Christian church aren’t really much more than that, but the fact that the invocation of child abuse and the forbidding of contraception immediately brings to mind an organization meant to promote moral, Godly living is reflective of so many things wrong with the church. But the song seems to be a flustered insistence for the church to reveal its true and conflicting intentions: for its own sustenance through its authority over its followers and their passing down and around of the doctrine. The poetic technique is audibly impressive, but lost in translation, as the verses are loaded with mantras all tagged with the prefix “ver-”, which doesn’t really have an English equivalent, but serves to make more extremein some way the verbs being modified, which could be interpreted quite a few ways in the context of the song’s religious critique.

The fourth track, “Ausländer”, was a bit off-putting to me at first for its dancy beat and pitch-shifted backing vocal sample, but its lighter attitude compared to the surrounding tracks was probably a good move by the band and its cheeky fun has helped it grow on me a bit. The song is a kind of comedic suggestion to travelers to learn to speak native languages because the opposite gender loves to hear a foreigner speak their tongue, with Lindemann dropping all these overly dramatic romantic pleas in Spanish, French, and Russian. It’s kind of tongue-in-cheek, but the concept of cultures mingling and the language through which it happens is certainly something that could be read into even deeper here, but I feel I might be getting in too deep to this album’s lyrics as it is. Fun song! It strikes me as this album’s “Haifisch”.

The sixth song is called “Sex”, and it is one of those universally understood words that needs no translation. Rammstein have never been shy about putting all the raunchiest and most intentionally provocative aspects of the universal pleasure into song (Till Lindemann’s 2015 solo album also was largely about his many sexual fantasies and aspirations). But on this song, Rammstein finally tackle the queasy feelings of rising sexual attraction and the intense urge to bask in its pleasure with another. The lyrics come off, not so much as creepy or filthy, but rather as profoundly horny (a phrase I never thought I’d type, but here we are), with Lindemann singing “Wir leben bei sex”, which means “we live during sex”, which could be interpreted as an ode to the pleasure of the act of reproduction. The boisterous vocal delivery of the titular refrain gives the already heavy, groovy, and provocative song a different primal energy, and it makes the desire spoken of in the lyrics evident and real. And speaking of powerfully primal vocal performances...

The song “Puppe” has justifiably gained a lot of attention for Till Lindemann’s scathingly rough and chillingly tortured vocal delivery in its second half, which was the first thing that caught my ear too when I gave this album its first spin. Delving into the lyrics the song reveals itself to be about a child who is kept comforted (or even medicated to a degree) by a doll while this child’s sister goes off to work, which is revealed to be only in the neighboring room and is likely to be prostitution. The song eventually reveals that the child finds the sister dead at the hands of an assailant during her work, driving the child to bite the head off the doll, which could have a variety of interpretations regarding this already unhinged character’s stability, killing the assailant, destroying the comforting object and thus shedding all childhood innocence completely at the sight of such trauma, or simply a deranged, destructive breakdown. Personally, I think the lyrics suggest that the child rips the doll’s head off in an act of traumatic realization of the world’s cruelty and a refusal to accept being sheltered from it, with whatever actions following being very up in the air. Either way, how the band builds up the the climax of the child biting the head of the doll off and explodes into vibrant heaviness provides the perfect backing for Lindemann to play this character phenomenally.

The soulful metallic ballad “Was ich Liebe” is probably the most flat-out depressing song on the album, and despite the simplicity of its lyrics, its conflict with its speaker wanting to love but also feeling that doing so is futile and that all pleasure is fleeting is well expressed, and an interestingly stark contrast to “Sex”, wherein the raw, physical lust brings about divine, life-affirming pleasure and whereas “Was ich Liebe” details perhaps the comedown from the high of sexual fulfillment to a life viewed through the most hopeless lens in which all pleasure eventually rots and everything loved dies. The song itself doesn’t actually reference sex at all, but it is perhaps its very absence and the vagueness concepts the speaker laments over that suggest that perhaps the speaker doesn’t even know how to find the lasting forms of love sought through sex. Then again, I could just be reading into Rammstein’s trend of often writing about sex. Sonically it provides a break from all the extreme energy leading up to it,which is nice in the track listing, but the woeful lamentation makes it come off as a bit overly dramatic. Given the whiny, defeatist subject matter though, perhaps that was intentional.

The very next song, “Diamant”, is an even more stripped back acoustic breather track supplemented with weeping vibratto strings for an intentionally melodramatic effect. It's a somber love song in which Lindemann compares his allure to a beautiful person to that of a diamond, struggling with an infatuation that he knows is soul-sucking and something he should avoid, concluding his comparison of this beautiful person to the beautiful jewel in dejection, saying it’s only a stone.

The song “Weit Weg” is probably the album's low point both lyrically and musically, being a less tangibly performed song of unfulfilled longing for a far away woman with some juxtaposition between feeling close, but oh so far away too, which Lindemann has written about before much more convincingly. And the somewhat slow pace and minimal energy of the whole band's performance kind of just makes it drag on. It's not the worst song, but by Rammstein's standards and this album's standards, it's only distinction from the other songs on the album is its lack of much melodic or lyrical distinction.

“Tattoo” thankfully brings back the energy of the band's signature industrial metal groove for the album's last minutes. It definitely hearkens back to Reise Reise musically, and it's a fine offering of their more groovy old-school style. The song is about the literal act of tattooing a lover's name and contemplating the pain and permanence of it all to express the significance of their love in the speaker's life, ending on the somewhat tongue-in-cheek contemplation that if they ever split up, then the speaker will have to find someone else with the same name. Lyrically, it's very direct, but also colorful and a fresh angle for this topic.

The album closes on perhaps the most haunting and unsettling note (rivaled only by "Puppe") with “Halloman”, a song about the luring of a young girl by the titular "Hallomann" (who is suggested to be part of the Catholic church when the girl is revealed to be dancing while wearing a rosary) into a life of sexual servitude. It's a disturbing and genuinely mournful song, and the band handles the seriousness of the subject matter well both lyrically and musically with the pleading sorrow in Till Lindemann's performance conveying the gravity of the all too common story of childhood stolen and butchered by depraved opportunists who prey upon the vulnerable. I'm glad Tue band saved this song for the end because I can't imagine its eerie realism anywhere else in the track listing. It's an incredibly emotive, but chilling finish to the album, and it does a fantastic job bowing out for the album.

And that's it; that's Rammstein's long-awaited seventh studio album. In many ways it is Rammstein simply getting back on track after their long creative break after Liebe ist für alle da, but it does also feel like a well-rounded set of songs that take a lot from the band's whole career, and the songs do mostly seem very well nurtured. And while this album probably didn't need ten years to make, I'm certainly glad it's here now and I hope it helps Rammstein get back into a more consistent creative cycle. If there’s one thing that dampens the album’s experience, it’s perhaps the decrease in energy and the reversion to some of the band’s more typical tendencies without supplementation during the second half. But the brightest moments on the album definitely outweigh the duller ones, and the dynamic excitement of the album's experience certainly stems from Rammstein smartly placing their confidence in the progress they had made with their sound rather than trying to make a disingenuous rehash of Sehnsucht or Mutter alone (though the elements they bring in from those albums do serve to bolster this one). And through it all, Rammstein stays true to the focus on tight, efficient composition that has made every album of theirs so engaging and digestible. I'm glad they're back.

Willkommen zurück/10

[thesinglesjukebox]

LADY GAGA - STUPID LOVE

[6.42]

Far from "Shallow" now...

Brad Shoup: Thudding sixteenths and vocal chop straight out of a Todd Edwards remix... it's always great when she visits. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: It must be exhausting to be Lady Gaga. Here's a short list of her accomplishments since 2013's ARTPOP: winning a Grammy for a jazz duets album, winning a Golden Globe for her role in American Horror Story, headlining the Super Bowl, co-hosting arguably the best Met Gala in years, winning an Oscar for A Star is Born, getting a number one Billboard single from the soundtrack, launching a vegan make-up line, and starring in a Las Vegas residency. And yet, the dominant critical narrative has still essentially been: Gaga is absent from pop music. (For comparison, Katy Perry has been a judge on American Idol.) Of course, her self-mythologizing is partially to blame for this, but it's unclear what could have possibly satisfied her critics and die-hard fans outside of re-reinventing music à la 2010. So what's her move given the weight of the world's impossible expectations? To make simple, unpretentious pop music on her own terms. In a recent Billboard interview, she laughed while stating, "I would like to put out music that a big chunk of the world will hear, and it will become a part of their daily lives, and make them happy every single day." My first reaction upon reading this was: yes, we should hold Gaga to a higher standard because she's Gaga, but how can we balance that with the potentially damaging effects for her mental health and sanity? So on "Stupid Love" when she sings, "Now it's time to free me from this chain/I gotta find that peace, is it too late?" I like to hope it's meta-commentary on her rediscovering the joy in her music and being, free of expectation. Gaga tracks are often described as "huge" or "epic", but none has ever so perfectly embodied "fun." I'm definitely excited about how this track sounds -- an ebullient return to her earliest disco pop roots, at a time when radio is dominated by trap -- but "Stupid Love" stands out to me because of her embrace of radical self-love. This is the Gaga that I've always loved -- and she's always been enough. [9]

Leah Isobel: The production filters back an entire decade's worth of Stefani's influence into a three-minute Fruit Gusher burst of tang, but the lyrics are decidedly forward-looking, all declarative statements of "now is the time!" bullshit. In the middle of this past/present/future time-play, as the beat drops out beneath her, she asserts the key line: "all I ever wanted was lahv." If it's a disappointingly shallow retcon for an artist whose initial breadth and ambition was the entire point, the promise of it lingers in my brain. After all, it's not too far from a similar pop megalomaniac realizing that she "traded fame for love without a second thought" about 20 years ago. That rich vein of popstar self-examination writ large is so suited to Gaga's talents as an artist -- a provocateur, fake-deep philosopher, musical theatre nerd, and hook-writing master all at once -- that I have listened to this song five times in a row pretty much every single day since it, uh, appeared on the internet. My paws are reluctantly up, Stef. Don't fuck it up. [7]

Jessica Doyle: Fun, and otherwise unremarkable. If you've been a Gaga fan for a while -- if you're invested in the narrative of this hardworking woman, who has been through downs and ups and downs and then ups again -- I imagine the fun is enhanced by a certain comfort and relief in seeing her have fun; in imagining her feeling strong and secure enough to release a fun song that doesn't have to upend anything. But I am a heartless, acontextual consumer, for whom the marginal cost of listening to something else is zero, and I miss "Bad Romance." [5]

Tobi Tella: For an artist who at her peak overstuffed everything with too many ideas, there's really not much happening here. It's loud and upbeat, sure, but the lyrics are barely the thread of a coherent song, and the production reminds everyone who wants "pure" pop to come back to be careful what they wish for. Maybe that A Star is Born "pop music bad guitar music good" cynicism rubbed off too much? [4]

Katherine St Asaph: Just when I thought Gaga was lost to the land of Real Music™, or worse, flailing attempts to be chill by the least chill performer in pop music (yes, including Taylor Swift), she goes and releases this, 50,000 firecrackers on a Eurovision stage. The thicket of hooks is packed, with Black Midi levels of referential density. The whole thing sounds like "Born This Way," which is to say it sounds like "Express Yourself"; there's a juddering sequencer out of "Do What U Want" (reminds me more of "Weekend" by Class Actress, but which is more likely to be the actual inspiration?) and a touch of, of all things, September's "Cry For You." Gaga fills every crevice of the song with singing, throaty and belty and huge: a relief after years of songs filled only with half-assed #vibes. If it feels frivolous against much of Born This Way and The Fame Monster and some of Artpop, and far less ambitious, it at least pulls her out of the "Shallow" piano muck. [7]

Vikram Joseph: Perhaps a stupid song about making stupid choices is the Lady Gaga lead single we both need and deserve in 2020. The battering-ram synths feel like running down a hill into a gale-force wind; the best thing about "Stupid Love" is that Gaga sounds like she's having a lot of fun, and by extension so are we. [7]

Alex Clifton: "Stupid Love," much like "Born This Way" before it, is ready-made for pride parades, grown from the same mystical lab that gave Lady Gaga her incredible melodic sensibilities. Unlike its predecessor, though, it has more euphoria in it, presumably because it's not making a political point. Gaga's more focused on having fun here, and you can tell. The verses aren't my favourite, but the chorus hits as an overwhelming rush of dopamine, and now I can't stop dancing in my computer chair. Between this and Dua Lipa's album, we're in for a hell of a good time for pop music this spring, and I am extremely excited. [7]

Thomas Inskeep: She was doing this better a decade ago. A lot better. [2]

Joshua Lu: The narrative surrounding "Stupid Love" regards it a return to the Pop Gaga that's been mostly absent since 2013: A revival if you're a fan, a regression if you're not. The issue with this narrative is that "Stupid Love" lacks any key similarities to the Gaga of yesteryear; the only real sonic link is how the bassline brings to mind the since-redacted "Do What U Want" beat. Instead we have something that's somehow not a Kygo song, with vocal chirps that got old last year, serviceable but clichéd hooks (the entire pre-chorus has all the charm of a Taio Cruz album track), remarkably basic lyrics filled with platitudes, and a title that has no bearing on anything in the song -- there's nothing lyrically or aurally stupid about anything here, and Gaga has shown a deep capacity to be stupid in her past pop works. In reality, what we have here isn't a return to anything, but rather the continued flagging of Gaga's desire to develop genuinely off-beat or interesting pop music, whether intentional or not. Gaga's talents as a vocalist elevate the song beyond the usual pop pap, but it's not nearly at the level I once hoped she could remain at. [6]

Alfred Soto: Kudos to Jamieson Cox for catching an obvious forebear: the rattling sequencer recalls 2013's forgotten "Do What U Want," which was all set to do some business until radio programmers remembered R. Kelly had been a menace for years. Amiably confusing lack of affect with simplicity, "Stupid Love" flexes its pop strength with the expectation that fans will admire it. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The synths pack a punch but they never quite get me to where I should be. I wanna feel desperation, exasperation -- that love is worth looking stupid for. All I get is a familiar, quasi-stoic performance that sounds like Gaga's doing some excellent karaoke. [4]

Kayla Beardslee: Sure, it's competent, but Gaga is capable of so much more. Many other blurbs will discuss the song's aggressive datedness and bland lyrics, but what really bothers me is that the two halves of "Stupid Love" -- the dramatic vocals and the unrelenting gallop of the synths -- don't fit together. Gaga is giving her all with those signature "laahv"s, but there's just not enough empty space left for her in the production. Her performance ends up laying flat on top of the track, adding nothing except a sense of laziness from her producers and engineers. [5]

Pedro João Santos: Serviceable Max Martin bopathon scams its way into my brain again -- no matter how direly in need of an incubator this whole structure is. Gaga's weakest lead single feeds you Kygo, threatens to ascend during "All I ever wanted was love", and still can't fight the aura of afterthought. [6]

Jibril Yassin: "Stupid Love" is a giddy rush of EDM-pop fun, but it's the first time experiencing a major Gaga single entirely devoid of surprises. Bracing yourself for a twist that never arrives or a strange turn of vocals rearing its head from nowhere, "Stupid Love" makes up for its unremarkableness with a masterclass in songwriting. What Lady Gaga hasn't forgotten how to do is translate the feeling of having your initial gut feelings completely validated. "Stupid Love" makes its magic in casting the act of love as necessary and dare I say it -- radical. [7]

Jackie Powell: On "Stupid Love" Lady Gaga achieved a corollary. By trying to put her healing process into simple poetry, she also created an accompanying sound that's comparable to an analgesic. The function of the track is to heal and liberate. (Truth be told, Little Monster or not, the song has helped me get out of bed in the morning.) Gaga's latest cut is packaged into a familiar formula, and that's part of the reason why this track serves as a formidable lead single and symbol for the upcoming Chromatica. The equation is one that mirrors the "best of" Stefani Germanotta. What's brilliant about "Stupid Love" is that its visual and lyrical messaging and surrounding sonic arrangement and melody bring what Little Monsters and casual music fans with a Gaga fascination expect. And that's okay. She has told Oprah that her goal now isn't just to shock people but rather to exude authenticity. She stirs elements from all of her pop eras into the most hearty and flavourful version of Gaga soup (and that does include Joanne contrary to popular belief.) Each ingredient works and is soluble. She tossed in the elements of the The Fame that made fans want to Just Dance and sprinkled some catchy Swedish-sounding pop melodies (Max Martin, hello!) and sung onomatopoeia from The Fame Monster, à la the "hey-ah, hey-ahs." A suspenseful build, uniquely potent and soaring vocals are ounces of Born This Way. Don't worry, ARTPOP is doused on this track not only in color, but in sound. There's a reason why that sped up "Do What U Want"-esque bassline works. There's a contrast between her bright vocal performance and the electronic bass' darkness. Joanne comes across in the allegorical concept which once again can be interpreted to reflect the current American experience. Music video director Daniel Askill confirmed that Gaga wanted to portray the "warring tribes as a metaphor for the state of the world today." So, Mother Monster is on a mission to introduce the world to her new brainchild, ever-developing ideologies and honest ways to examine life. "Stupid Love" isn't the end-all but merely the beginning. Paws up and welcome to Chromatica bitches. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: NOPE! WAIT. wait. This is actually a welcome back for... the bass, who is joined by his drumming sister, his synth bros and Lady Gaga, who has come here from the Make A Wish Foundation to take him around New York. They have a wonderful day together, with the synth bros getting their percussive background vocal girlfriend an NYPD hoodie, and the experience convinces Lady Gaga to make bright, happy pop music again! (The bass, in the midst of a happy dance, got hit by her limo and had to go back to the hospital.) [8]

Scott Mildenhall: Between its hyperventilating over-excitement and ever-exciting hyper-sincerity, Gaga seems to have finally created a pop emergency. The false alarm of "Applause" was overstuffed and underpowered, but "Stupid Love" redresses that balance by going harder and clearer, like a newly thawed cut from a cryogenically frozen, course-correcting Artpop Monster edition. Time might seem to have turned in on itself, but no: the greater lyrical directness arrives in a way that feels culminatory. The plainspokenness of that indelible "all I ever wanted was love" makes it almost an epitaph, grounding it in a present in which all experience has been lived, and all realisations are realised. Undeniably, Lady Gaga is not dead, but this is what she knows. [8]

Will Adams: I defended "The Cure" and lamented the immense pressure on Gaga to make every release the Next Big Thing, however even that soured when it turned out to be part of A Star Is Born's ~superficial pop~ world. So where to next, when she's caught between turgid rock balladry and ill-fitting trop-pop? On "Stupid Love," we get the best possible outcome: whizzing past Joanne, making a brief stop at Artpop but ultimately landing on the dazzling excess of Born This Way. Like any good synthpop number, the synths display a wide range of textures: they tunnel, they drill, they poof, they gleam. Gaga is more than willing to match their energy. Noteworthy, though, is that she takes a brief pause only on the pre-chorus's "all I ever wanted was love"; even the way the title scans it almost sounds like she could be singing "I want just to be loved." This is the essence of pop: amidst the big dumb fireworks display, a human message at the core. [7]

[nonoboymusic]

Joyce Kwon For Thriving 2020

Joyce Kwon is a talented singer and gayageum player from Los Angeles. The gayageum is an incredible instrument. The craftsmanship and engineering of the wood, strings and bridges, a work of art unto itself. Joyce centers the traditional Korean instrument in her recordings which are decidedly not Korean, traditionally speaking. Her songs are written in a more singer/songwriter vein with nods to classic American popular music, but the gayageum is seamlessly placed into a mix with tasteful percussion, keys, bass and vocals, blending in but also creating a unique blend, which is sort of Joyce’s M.O. 

Here is someone who isn’t Joyce playing Hendrix’s “Voodoo Chile” on it:

That was fun.

As you can hear in “Little Bird,” Joyce’s lyrics are often located somewhere between wistful and encouraging, singing to her songs’ subjects but also to us and to herself as well. There’s some self-care marketing potential, which I mean in a good way, and have recently asked myself, why I don’t aim to do more of that. On my guitar case, I have a bumper sticker which reads “Joyce For Thriving 2020″ -- I also just saw that she has a T-shirt with that slogan which I’m hoping that after reading this nice post, she will give me one next time I see her... 

Her excellent solo album DREAM OF HOME was written during a time where she was contemplating home as a concept and searching for it as a reality. Her songs ask us what "home” means for someone who, like myself and many others, is of two places and because of that, might feel that they belong nowhere. Although it was written between Korea and the States, this album was truly authored from an in-between place, an artist’s island of sorts, a place where I’ve written most of No-No Boy from. Dream of Home sweetly and sometimes bitterly works through these core ideas of belonging, home and hope through music, blending her Korean Gayageum with her American musical self.

As one of her many album adjacent projects, she took her “Little Bird” video and set out to include lyrical translations by friends who speak many different languages and who she notes are “American.” If you click on the settings in youtube for the video, you can choose to see the captions in any number of languages, including my 12 year old level French. By including these translations, she is obviously gesturing towards inclusiveness and solidarity, but also making a move off of that in-between cultural place and making a case for Americans and America broadly defined by its many sounds, including Joyce music and her friends’ languages.

I met Joyce at the DisOrient Film Festival in Eugene, OR in late winter of 2019. She was showing a music video for the song “Dream of Home” and performed a house concert. I was going through a really tough period in my life, maybe the toughest. I had come off two months of touring the world’s most depressing songs and having panic attacks during and after almost every concert. My long term relationship fell ended and many other important relationships fell apart. I was in the midst of personally reckoning with some deep, ancient personal stuff. I felt really exiled and depressed, completely lost. 

At this house concert, Joyce’s stripped down performance, just her and her gayageum, really touched me. I got to hang out with her a bunch that weekend at the film festival, along with a whole bunch of awesome film makers and actors. We ended up talking a lot at the staff party and not doing karaoke together despite my urgings. A couple days later, Joyce even helped me make field recordings of objects at the Japanese American museum in Portland, old suitcases and trunks, nic nacs, bells, stoves, objects which were at the Minidoka WWII internment camp and which I turned into percussion instruments for my next album. She was one of the first new friends I made after this really dark period.

After we parted ways and I went back to Providence to wait for summer. I’ll write candidly, not because I like sharing, but in case you the reader has been dealing with any kind of depression, anxiety or mental illness. Sometimes it’s nice to know you’re not alone in that... Anyways, my depression deepened that spring until the summer allowed me to make a life-saving change of scene. But one thing that kept me going during that cold New England thaw, aside from the couple of true friends I had in town, was Joyce’s song “Why-Go-Round.” Give it a listen, especially if you’re having a rough time, or are just feeling extra human, which is to say messy, sad, and really down. Put this song on your phone and walk through a park or to a nice cafe you like, or just look out a good window. Let Joyce Kwon remind you that, even on your worst days, there’s a pretty green field around the corner, or a good friend to meet you at the corner bar. At the very least, there is a beautiful song to lift you up, dust you off and say, hey “you deserve to be happy.” Because you do. We all do. Thanks, Joyce. 

http://www.joycekwon.com

[eurosong]

ESC 2018 vs 2019 - Semi-final 2

Good afternoon, folks! A few days ago, I took a look at the songs of Eurovision 2019’s first semi-final, comparing them with songs from the same countries in 2018 and sharing my verdict on which year was better and why. Now it’s the turn of semi-final 2! Again, I try to see as much good as possible in each song and I mean no offence to anyone who disagrees with these opinions. 

·        Albania – 2018 – Albania had always been a bit of a bête noire for me at this contest, because they would so often pick fabulous songs at their long-running Festival i këngës national final, only then to completely mutilate them musically and (with the help of Bing translator, lyrically) in the revamp. Last year, that trend hopefully came to an end in the most glorious fashion when Eugent Bushpepa didn’t make any major change to Mall, one of the songs that most impressed me in this era, a soaring, moving, poëtic cri de cœur of a song. This year, they have also opted to neither translate nor musically mutate. I like their 2019 song a lot, but it’s a Scafell Pike to last year’s mighty Everest.

·        Armenia – 2019 – as a glossophile who always advocates the use of national languages over English, I have some respect for Qami, the only song Armenia ever sent entirely in their language. Respect, but no love, because I found it merely ok and rather repetitive. I thought this would be a second year in a row that I’d be underwhelmed by Hayastan, but whilst this year’s offering cannot shape up to the majestic Fly with me, it’s become an earworm and I enjoy the fiery defiance of Srbuk’s lyrics and the incorporation of traditional instrumentation into something otherwise decidedly contemporary.

·        Austria – 2018 – I seem to be one of very few people rating this year’s gentle, stripped-back but impassioned Austrian entry. It more than tilts its cap in the direction of Kate Bush, but I am down with that. However, it would really take some doing to beat last year’s Austrian song, Nobody but you, in my estimations – a worthy winner of the jury vote and probably the ESC’s best ever gospel-infused song for my money.

·        Azerbaijan – 2019 – I’m not as won over by this Azeri effort as many people that I know. I was expected something rather different from their snippet (a word I wish I will never hear again given the amount of them this year). It’s not bad by usual standards though, and is certainly a class above Delete My Heart and its bizarre computer-generated lyrics last year.

·        Croatia – 2018 – Last year’s Croatian song was a rather lame reimagining of Sam Brown’s Stop. I didn’t like the original and I sure didn’t fancy the semi-skimmed version that much either. Having said that, Franka, all is forgiven. Your song is a delight compared to the demonic screeching of this young budding ego ironically wearing (fluffy) angel wings. I thought Jacques Houdek had unleashed enough hell with his Maa fwenn/Moy frennddd but it was nothing compared to this abomination. It’s so bad that it almost scares me how bad it is.

·        Denmark – 2019 – Another one where I go against the grain is Denmark. I never got the hype for Rasmussen, whose song sounded like a soundtrack for some 90s direct-to-video movie about Vikings. The only thing is that they managed to make even Vikings feel lame. It all seemed a little OTT and gimmicky to me, and the amount of repetition and the cliché pitch shift both annoyed me. On paper, this hyper-sweet Danish song should also grind my gears, but in a subpar year, I’ve actually grown a fondness for it. Maybe the Frenchness of it all was what won me over. I hope they’re not actually going to sway side to side on a big chair in the actual final, though.

·        Ireland – 2018 – Two decent songs in a row from Ireland and it’s difficult to choose between them, even though neither set my world alight. I still think the staging of last year was rather cynical – two enamoured lads who had little to with the song about heartbreak, but did seem to win over some folk who otherwise would have dismissed it as a boring ballad. Seeing it live, it was quite moving, and I was able to put this incongruousness out of mind. This year’s entry has rather less artifice and a low-key charm, but I have to go for ’18 as having more depth as a composition.      

·        Latvia – 2018 – Despite never having reached the heights of Aminata who pulled them up from the non-qualification doldrums, I’ve enjoyed every subsequent song from Latvia, even though the standards of Supernova have dropped since the Riga Beaver stopped delighting us in the ad breaks. This year’s Latvian song is delightfully low-key, the kind of thing I imagine hearing on the radio late at night, driving in the rain. At the minute, though, I have to say I still prefer the sultry, tempestuous Funny Girl – though Esam­iba would have topped both.

·        Macedonia – 2018 – Macedonia, perhaps the country at the contest who least has received their dues despite some excellent songs, is a perfect illustration of how difficult these 2018 vs 2019 choices can be. Their entry this year, “Proud”, is touching and impactful on first listen, but I’ve seldom sought out to listen to it much since then. On the other hand, I was absolutely obsessed with last year’s “Lost and found”, bewitched by its changes in style and tempo. Unfortunately, the live version of 2018 was an absolute clusterfuck; it felt as though someone had been deliberately tasked with ruining their qualification chances, and that casts a shadow over the song in retrospect. I wouldn’t be surprised if 2019 is a more effective song on the stage, but for the time being, I prefer 2018 musically.

·        Malta – 2019 – There is absolutely no contest here for me. This is the first song sent by Malta that manages to hold my interest since “Tomorrow” way back in 2013. It’s more daring and contemporary than I ever imagined would be their choice. In a different universe from the screechy “Taboo.” It’s also refreshing to have a Maltese song that doesn’t try to get brownie points from their message.

·        Moldova – 2018 – A truly plague vs cholera choice. 2018’s bizarre Kirkorov-spawned ode to the ménage-à-trois versus this year’s painfully, painfully dull ballad-by-numbers with rhyming-also-by-number (rhyming say with stay, never with forever. Troolee jeenyuss.) I have to go with 2018, which creeped me out, but at least was kind of interesting in its own weird way, and its staging showed ingenuity despite limited resources.

·        Netherlands – 2018 – I’m sure for a lot of people, this choice is a no-brainer, but for me, it is very much a difficult choice. I really loved “Outlaw in ‘em”, Waylon’s country style is up my street and, whilst I still think “Thanks or no thanks” would have been a cannier choice, I appreciated one of the few moments last year in which one could rock out. “Arcade” is a different beast entirely, so comparisons are odious. Both are stirring, but OIE is riotous and defiant, whilst Arcade is poignant. It’s hard to choose just one, but I have to go for the one I’m more likely to have on repeat, last year’s song.

·        Norway – 2019 – Oh, Norway. For a few glorious years, with Margaret Berger, Karl Espen and then especially Mørland, they were the coolest thing going out of the Nordics – but how the mighty have fallen. I haven’t really liked a single one of their entries since then and once again, I am faced with a choice between two unsavoury options. Their entry this year sounds like Aqua went into the woods for a spiritualistic retreat, came back, wrote a shitty b-side about the experience and then decided not to release it, only for some Norwegians to find it about 20 years later and pass the song off as their own. Everything about it makes me cringe on an almost existential level. It appals me that the “come on barbie, let’s go pardy”-style joiking is being compared to JHF who actually representing joik in a classier way. I say all this, and yet, this year’s offering is still not ás bad as 2018’s “That’s how you write a song”, a “children’s TV show theme” song whose cosmic irony would be funny were it not so tragic.

·        Romania – 2018 – I didn’t think this would be such a tough decision when I found out the results for Selecţia Naţionala, and was absolutely amazed that the public had only 1/7th of the result, and that the juries had catapulted a song that only picked up 3% of the televote (Laura Bretan, the televote winner, got a 42% share, in contrast) on the back of a rather dubious live performance. I’m still not sure why Ester puts on a vocal affectation that makes her sound like she’s having a tantrum, but somehow the song’s dark ambiance and the hilarious video won me over. It still can’t compare to last year’s emotional, underrated effort which brought to mind departed friends.

·        Russia – 2019 – Sergey’s return is a little pompous and will certainly be wrapped up with unnecessary staging frills; that being said, it’s a decent song, which is more than I can say about the truly ghoulish “I won’t break,” whose only virtue for me – being slightly better than the hideous and ungrammatical “Flame is burning” – was removed when I saw that impossibly bad staging, confining their singer almost embarrassedly into the background.

·        Sweden – 2019 – For the first time in a few years, Sweden have sent an artist and song that I don’t find completely objectionable. That isn’t to say that I don’t find any objection at all – soul is not really soul when it is so heavily manufactured, and I cannot help but feel that they’ve taken more than a fair amount of inspiration from both Austria of last year and Bulgaria of 2016. Nonetheless, I can bear it a lot better than Dance you off.

·        Switzerland – 2018 – For once, I actually had a little bit of hope for Switzerland, who have been going through the motions with some turgid fare for the last number of years, with the only exception for me being Hunter of Stars. Going internal made me feel they had something exceptional, and I guess they thought they did, but for me, instead they brought a thinly veiled male take on Fuego and little more. Last year’s effort also didn’t impress me much, a dirgey bit of trust fund faux-rock (frock?), but I’ll take it over the Chernobyl levels of radioäctive smugness exuded by this latter Swiss attempt.

And as for the automatic qualifiers:

·        Germany – 2018 – When I heard that Barbara Schöneberger, she of the eyes that are bigger than Lake Baikal and seems permanently traumatised, was coming back after a year’s absence as host, I joked that I was amazed she was given back the gig given that every year she’s been in charge, there’s been an abject failure and the one edition where she was absent, Germany managed to get a fantastic result. I feel they’re back to their losing ways with Sister, a song performed by a group called S!sters who have only known one another for a few months if that. It’s one of many songs this year with decent verses but a horrible chorus. It’s supposed to be a celebration of sisterhood, but it feels moreso like these two want to scratch the other’s eyes out whilst they stand there, wailing at one another. There were things that annoyed me about last year’s German entry too, particularly the large section in which he merely said “whoahaoaoaoa” as if he’d run out of ideas for lyrics, but it was otherwise a stellar, well-written effort. In another league to these imaginary sisters.  

·        Italy – 2019 – Italy is one of the very few countries where I prefer 2019 to 2018, 2018 to 2017, 2017 to 2016 and 2016 to 2015! They just get better year on year. I adored “Metamoro” and still consider their song a huge highlight, one of the best of last year and of recent years. It’s incredibly difficult to choose between them and Mahmood’s Soldi, but he somehow managed to win me over even more with his anthemic, autobiographical song which has a contemporary edge but also the timelessness and quality of San Remo orchestral compositions. My number one this year so far.

·        UK – 2019 – Eurovision: You Decide got even drearier than usual this year. Whilst other countries like France increased the number of songs from which their viewers could choose, BBC cut their choices down to three, got two sets of people to perform each song in a different style pastiche and then didn’t even allow the viewers to choose which rendition they preferred. We ended up with a bog-standard “X factor winners’ single”-style song that SVT told John Lundvik not to perform for them. It has the edge because it at least “hey muvva, bruvva” lyrics or random Casio noises in the background like Surie’s song. She really deserved more.

[douxreviews]

Manifest - ‘Contrails’ Review

"The government didn't start hiding things on the day we came back.  They started on the day we disappeared."

Even paranoids can have non-imaginary enemies, and sometimes the crazy conspiracy theory is not just a theory and nowhere near crazy.  Just ask Captain Bill Daly, who was the pilot of Montego Air Flight 828 when it left Jamaica on the evening of April 7, 2013.

Last week, we saw that Captain Daly was something of a mess, more so than most of the 828ers.  As the pilot, the safety of the passengers was his responsibility, one he took very seriously.  When the plane encountered the storm/wormhole/alien spaceship/wrath of God/whatever it was, he got them through it in one piece and landed everyone safely--only to find himself being blamed for whatever it was that kicked 828 five and a half years into the future.  Add that on top of all the other stress that the "average" 828er has to deal with--finding out you were presumed dead, your loved ones remarried, and your worldly possessions were given away to Goodwill years ago, and such--and, well, if that happened to you, you'd be a mess, too.

After Cal prophecies that "the man from the plane" will need his father's help, Ben gets a call from Capt. Daly, who enlists his help.  The good Captain has determined that the official government records of the crash investigation are deliberately misleading, or at best wildly inaccurate, regarding the weather conditions.  The crash investigation report is dated April 8, 2013, just one day after the disappearance.

Ben subjects the inquiry record to one of his trademark analytical binges and discovers that a meteorologist named Roger Mencin, who was conducting observations of "dark lightening" near where 828 disappeared, was supposed to testify at a hearing, but backed out, and almost immediately took early retirement and moved to Massapequa.  They go to visit Roger, who tells them that he was pressured into erasing his data--but saved a copy just in case.  They load Roger's weather data into a 737 cockpit simulator, which gives them a pretty good replica of the storm and turbulence, but registers a crash when Daly tries to repeat the maneuver that got them through the storm.  As Ben points out, the simulator probably doesn't model time travel--but Daly just gets even more frustrated at his inability to "prove" that what he did was right, and even more convinced that Fiona Clarke is behind it all.

Meanwhile, Michaela is babysitting Cal on her day off when Autumn shows up at the apartment, asking Michaela's help in locating someone she claims stole her identity and framed her.   While Autumn is there, Ben calls Michaela and she asks him "Hey, how was Massapequa?"

The next day, Roger Mencin turns up dead in a suspiciously-timed boating accident.  Ben and Michaela go to check up on Daly, and when going through his apartment discover that he's planning to steal an airplane and fly into a storm cell looking for more dark lightening.  When they get to the airport, they find out that the airplane isn't the only thing Daly is stealing--he's kidnapped Fiona and is taking her with him!

I should mention here that while Autumn is attempting to break away from The Major's operation, her new handler is refusing to accept her resignation and putting the squeeze on her.  (The new guy  gives off the same weasel-y vibe as Autumn's previous contact, the late Lawrence Belson., and will therefore be designated "Weasel 2.0.")  While Ben and Michaela are chasing after Captain Daly, Autumn breaks in to Michaela's apartment, takes photos of Ben's research documents, and steals a page out of Cal's sketchbook.

Though Ben and Michaela do their level best to talk him out of it, Daly goes roaring into the center of the storm, pursued by two Air National Guard F-16s.  The plane is either shot down or flung forward in time, take your pick.

In reviewing the events of the day, Michaela realizes that Autumn overheard her mention Massapequa, and realizes she's the Major's mole.

And then Grace discovers that the window to Cal's bedroom is open and Cal is missing.

"828" Watch

The flight number appears on the cover of the government report.  The tail number of the stolen plane is N728PH.

Also on the manifest.....

In further developments on the romantic-triangle front, Michaela, to her credit, tells Jared that it's over between them and she will not be "the other woman."

"Dark lightning" really exists.  The technical term for it is "terrestrial gamma ray flash," a phenomenon first detected in 1994, and still not all that well understood.  They seem to propagate in and around thunderstorms, though the exact cause is still the subject of some scientific debate. A typical "TGF" lasts from 0.2 to 3.5 milliseconds (don't blink or you'll miss it!) and kicks out up to 20 million electron volts.  While "20 million volts" sounds impressive, we're talking electron volts, which are a measure of energy (and mass and momentum) in particle physics.  (They have nothing to do with the volts in your 9-volt batteries and 110-volt electrical outlets, which measure electrical potential.)  An electron volt is so small that you'd need 249,660,461,771,990,093,472.9 of them to power a 40-watt light bulb for one second.  (That's the answer I got, anyway.  Please feel free to check my math.)  I imagine it would take a lot more than that to send a Boeing airliner hurtling five years into the future through the space-time continuum.

Captain Daly drives a C2 Corvette Stingray.  Definitely a pilot's kind of car.

In the first scene with Ben and Daly in the Corvette, the car radio is playing "Midnight Rider" by The Allman Brothers: Well, I've got to run to keep from hidin'/And I'm bound to keep on ridin'/And I've got one more silver dollar/But I'm not gonna let 'em catch me, no, not gonna let 'em catch the midnight rider. Fitting choice for Daly's theme song, given how his story arc plays out.

This week's gold star for acting goes to Frank Deal, who played Capt. Daly.  In the flashback scenes and the first act of the pilot episode, the character is snarky and supremely confident (as pilots usually are).  In the "present day" scenes in this episode and the previous one, he's a broken man--but still the same individual, and still sympathetic even at the end.  Honorable mention goes to Francesca Faridany, playing a terrified Fiona Clarke.

In the cockpit scenes during the storm, Daly says he's "increasing speed to 300 knots."  According to Wikipedia, a 737's cruise speed is in the neighborhood of 450 knots when at altitude, so how could he be increasing to 300?  He's referring to indicated airspeed, which is not the same thing as "true" airspeed.  A plane's airspeed indicator measures speed by measuring the difference between static air pressure around the plane and the pressure in the pitot tube, which points directly forward.  At cruising altitude, the air is thinner, and this causes the airspeed indicator to register something less than the speed the aircraft is actually travelling relative to a fixed point on the ground.  That 450 knot cruising speed therefore translates to something a bit below 300 knots IAS.

Massapequa is a town of 21,685 (2010 Census) on the south shore of Long Island.

According to the co-pilot, Kelly Taylor was demanding a hypo-allergenic blanket from the flight attendants.  She would do a thing like that.

I am very certain that I would not want to be Autumn Cox when Michaela catches up to her.

Quotes

Captain Daly, to his co-pilot: "I'm a cowboy.  Plane's my horse, and the sky an open desert."

Captain Daly, in his debriefing: "You don't understand.  There is no 'conventional maneuver' when a storm appears right on top of you.  And this storm was like nothing I've ever seen."

Airport guard: "Hey, hey, Captain Future! You gonna fly through the Bermuda Triangle again?"  A more prophetic statement than he realized.

Conclusion

Another good episode with a couple of annoying little details.  The Major's organization seemed uncharacteristically ham-fisted: kill the meteorologist the day after he talks to Ben Stone?  Way to draw attention to your secret operation that no one is supposed to know about and blow your mole's cover in the process!  Shoot down a plane and kill the hostage?  Not swift either, guys.  Also, I thought it a little too neat that Fiona, a neuroscientist in a narrow specialty with New Age leanings, would be conversant enough with high-end particle physics to know what dark lightening was in the first place.  (A quick scene of Fiona looking it up on Wikipedia would have been a nice touch.)  However, the episode did an excellent job portraying Captain Daly's descent into madness in a believable fashion, and I liked how Fiona Clarke, until now the very portrait of emotional equilibrium, completely lost it as she concluded she was about to die.  And the cliffhanger at the end--oh, boy!

Three out of four terrestrial gamma ray flashes.

Baby M avoids exposure to gamma rays whenever possible.