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sophaeros · 2 months ago

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julian casablancas for creem magazine, december 2024 (x)

Feeling The Voidz

How to avoid a stroke? Interview Julian Casablancas. By Taran Dugal

It is a horrifically humid September afternoon in Manhattan, the kind where the leaves falling from the trees seem more like suicide jumpers than a physical manifestation of the changing seasons. I find myself seated at a wooden table in the back corner of Lucien, an upscale French restaurant in the East Village that happens to be a frequent haunt of certain high-profile individuals including Bella Hadid, A$AP Rocky, and Julia Fox. The table is laid with a white silk tablecloth, upon which sits a small candle, its flame flickering desperately. Across from me, fidgeting with his coffee cup, is Julian Casablancas, frontman of the Strokes, a New York City band that was heralded as the saviors of rock ’n’ roll in the early aughts and widely credited with jump-starting a number of decade-defining cultural movements, among them the “post-punk revival” and the “indie sleaze aesthetic,” the latter of which centers on leather jackets, cigarettes, and skinny jeans, and which oh-so-many socialites would lead you to believe is experiencing a resurgence in certain low-lit corners of downtown Manhattan.

But we are not here to talk about downtown Manhattan, or cigarettes, or skinny jeans, or postpunk, or even the Strokes. Instead, our minds are on the Voidz—a band Julian formed in 2013 as a kind of Batman to his other project’s Bruce Wayne, one whose music has been described as “dystopian rock,” “Middle Eastern Cyber Prison Jazz,” and, perhaps most eloquently, “battery acid." In three days, the Voidz are set to release their third LP, Like All Before You. I am here to talk about the album with Julian, and I am on edge because precisely 39 minutes before we were scheduled to meet, I received a call from his publicist, who told me that he’d most definitely be in a bad mood. “A bit gruff” was how she put it. According to her, Julian had been subjected to an “awful interview” earlier that day, meaning that he’d fielded questions that only dealt with “the Strokes, the Strokes, the Strokes,” rather than the Voidz, or the new album, and he’d apparently hung up on the interviewer. “If he’s mean to you,” the publicist said, “try not to think too much of it—just roll with the punches.”

I do my best to keep this sublime advice in mind as we settle in. Julian is dressed sharply, if not eclectically—blue jeans, a black leather belt, and a navy button-down, all topped by a beige blazer with a bright orange handkerchief jutting out of its breast pocket. The button-down is emblazoned with a psychedelic pattern that resembles a series of interconnected, misshapen gingerbread men. Somehow, it actually looks cool, although Julian himself seems tired. He’s just made the drive down from Connecticut, where he now spends a significant amount of time. It is not a fun drive, and I can see his weariness dissolve as the steam from his coffee unfurls and makes its way toward his nostrils. He lifts the mug up to his face, blows on it a little, takes a big sip, and lets out a deep exhale. It strikes me that, other than me, Julian, and his manager, there are no other patrons inside the restaurant. It is quiet, save for the clattering of dishware and Edith Piaf’s searing soprano, which is lilting out of the loudspeaker just above us. The song is “La Vie en Rose.” Julian leans in toward me, and, recalling the publicist’s warning, I brace myself for a jab. Instead, a smile creeps across his face. “So what are you looking for?” he quips. “A relationship? Or just hookups?”

The joke sets me at ease. Despite the publicist’s fussing, it seems clear that Julian isn’t pissed off. That said, he isn’t exactly a Chatty Cathy, either. As we ease into things, his cards stay close to his chest. He is intensely self-aware, and the intensity of that scrutiny gives our conversation a distinct rhythm. Julian counters most of my questions with considered pauses, and when he does start to speak, his answers begin at a slow, halting cadence. Eventually, the engine warms up, and these musings turn into fast-paced, expansive rambles that go on for minutes at a time. When they do lose steam, it’s abrupt and decisive. Oftentimes, I find that I’ve forgotten what I asked him in the first place. This isn’t to say that Julian is a bad conversationalist. In fact, as things progress, it turns out that he’s a great chat—his long-winded answers contain everything from self-deprecating barbs to shrewd insights, and for good measure, he throws in a decent amount of obscure cultural references (from Nabokov’s Inuitation to a Beheading to Demolition Man, a mostly forgotten 1993 sci-fi film starring Sylvester Stallone).

I start by asking him about the band’s intentions for the new album. On Like All Before You, the Voidz (consisting of Casablancas, guitarists Jeramy “Beardo” Critter and Amir Yaghmai, bassist Jake Bercovici, drummer Alex Carapetis, and keyboardist Jeff Kite) cover a tremendous amount of ground in 10 tracks and 43 minutes. The album’s opening tune, “Overture,” features a gothic organ that flutters between nostalgia and despondence, and its follow-up, “Square Wave,” is a new-wave number whose chorus foregrounds an ocean of synths that drown Casablancas’ melancholic croon. Other standouts include “Spectral Analysis,” a shimmering composition that sounds like it was recorded in an alternate universe where Bill Evans had never been introduced to heroin and cocaine, and instead set his sights on avant-garde rock—Kite’s keyboard-playing here floats like the mist at the base of a waterfall. The album’s most radio-friendly song is “Flexorcist,” which contains lyrics straight out of a Kerouacian fever dream. The chorus, with its jaunty, headbanging guitars and Casablancas’ vaulting vocals, makes the track sound like it was unearthed from a time vault housing the soundtrack for 2075’s biggest summer blockbuster.

It’s evident that the album was decidedly not made to appeal to contemporary pop sensibilities. Most of the tracks are home to moments that deviate from typical musical norms, like the disjointed, cyclical riffs in “All the Same” and the sinister, pitched-down vocals in “When Will the Time of These Bastards End." Julian is well aware of this. In fact, that was a conscious decision. “I think, before this record, we were still kind of in that phase where we were trying to afford the tour.” This checks out. Virtue, the Voidz’s second album, is far from a conventional rock record, but it is certainly more straightforward than Like All Before You. “There was a moment where I think we all got on the same page,” Julian says of the new album. “We knew we could do something kind of traditional, and if that became popular, then cool, great, whatever. But if we did something alienfuture-weird, some kind of next-level unknown, and that became big, it would be so much more amazing on every level. We were all like, yes, let’s do that.”

It is an ambitious goal, but an unsurprising one nonetheless. After all, this is a band fronted by a man who, at the age of 22, asked the producer of his debut album to make his vocals sound “like your favorite blue jeans.” And yet, despite what the sonics of Like All Before You might lead you to believe, Julian maintains that he isn’t entirely pop-averse. “There’s an alternate universe of popular music,” he tells me. “I hate pop, but the pop on TikTok and Instagram or whatever can be cool. It’s kind of gothy, and there’s funk, and sometimes I don’t mind it. We mixed the chorus of ‘Square Wave’ on a phone to hear how it might sound if it came up on a video of cats, or some glorious soccer goal.” I tell Julian that he’s just provided CREEM and its readers some brilliant insight into his feed. “Yeah,” he smirks. “Cats and soccer.”

After a certain point, I decide to dig a little deeper. There is a certain chord progression used on the album that I’ve noticed in a few different Voidz songs. For those of you who (like me) have not bothered to spend anything more than a harrowing 15 minutes nose-deep in music theory, fret not: I’m talking about the soul-centering, melancholic sequence that takes center stage on tracks like “Human Sadness,” the first single from Tyranny, the Voidz’s debut LP. It’s a herculean, gut-wrenching song, one that spans 11 minutes and several emotional lifetimes. You might also recognize the progression from his work with the Strokes.

“Yeah,” says Julian, “it’s on a lot. ‘The Adults Are Talking’ and ‘Life Is Simple in the Moonlight.’ Even if you go back to, like, ‘Hard to Explain.”’ He pauses. “I don’t know if you know any of these songs.” The thought is laughable, if not humble—no self-respecting rocker hasn’t listened to Is This It at least a dozen times—but I decide not to mention this, and he continues. “It’s everywhere, like on Harry Styles’ ‘As It Was,’ and that one Dua Lipa song.” I ask Julian if he means “Levitating” (admittedly, the only Dua Lipa song that I know), and he asks if I can sing it. I swallow my pride and follow through. “Nah, not that one,” he says. “It’s more like—” and he sings out a phrase in his rich baritone. Here’s some advice: If you ever want to feel ashamed about your own vocal abilities, try going bar for bar with Julian Casablancas.

“I think it’s called ‘Cocaine’ or something,” he says. It’s not—turns out the song is called “We’re Good"—but to his credit, some of Dua’s lyrics are about cocaine. Julian takes the moment to offer a pithy Casablancas-ism: “Getting a boyfriend—bad career move for her. ” He chuckles and then takes it back. “That’s fucked up.” Finally, refocusing on my original question, he issues a decree: “We’re not going to do that progression anymore." Then, a pause. “Well, actually, that’s not true, because I’m working on this new thing.... But all I know is, going forward, that chord progression won’t be there. So enjoy it. Suckle on its sweet juice. Farewell.”

As if to bid the notion goodbye, he takes a swig of his coffee, and I use the moment to flip through the pocket-size notebook I’d brought with me to the restaurant, which is full of scribbled, mostly illegible questions that I haven’t yet considered asking. A woman from Lucien’s waitstaff notices a break in the action and comes up to our table, smile beaming and eyes sparkling. “So good to see you again!” she exclaims to Julian. He turns and responds with a mildly convincing “Yeah, you too.” It’s hard to tell if he actually recognizes her, but he puts in the requisite amount of effort to make it seem like he just might.

As we start talking again, I notice that Julian’s reticence, which so dominated the first half hour of our conversation, has slowly given way to free-flowing dialogue, first about the meaning behind the title of the new record. “I guess it was a lot of things,” he says. “The problems that society is facing, the things we’re feeling...it’s been the same story for at least 10,000 years, probably more. But originally, it came from a conversation I had with Jake, who’s a great speaker and mind and word engineer, and the voice of a lot of the Voidz stuff that comes out. I'll ask him questions as a joke. I think I asked, ‘How would you define everything in one word?’ and he said something like, ‘Soon we will be crusted and dusted like all before us.’ And I thought, ‘Whoa, Like All Before Us—that sounds like a book I want to read.’ So that’s where it was born. It was meant as a kind of all-encompassing, universally defining statement."

This gets us talking about politics, and it becomes eminently clear that Julian has a lot to get off his chest. We end up in a philosophical sparring session, during which he diagnoses the crux of modern society’s ills and the mechanism through which they persist (“Deception is the tool, and money is the weapon—or maybe it’s the other way around”) and ends up talking about the deep political divide in America. I ask him how he thinks we might overcome it, and a cloud of solemnity crosses his face. “That’s the question at the cutting edge of today’s creative mind. That’s our job.” I don’t bother to mention that, in all likelihood, there are thousands of creative minds for whom such a question is—amidst notions of marketability, virality, and data-driven content creation—probably the very last consideration.

Casablancas has garnered criticism for being a conspiracy theorist, and it’s clear that he doesn’t try to contain his enthusiasm for taboo political discourse. That said, I didn’t find his opinions to be all that farfetched. He mentions that “there were half a million children starving in Iraq, and you can trace that to The New York Times convincing everyone that Iraq was going to conquer the world, or whatever.” This is defensible—one only has to turn a keen eye toward the headlines of some major publications to realize the extent to which editorial biases justify violence against the feeble and helpless. Political opinions aside, I find Julian’s sentiment (“That’s our job”) to be genuinely moving. Here is an individual who has, in many ways, conquered his industry. He’s written seminal, groundbreaking records, enjoys a massive, loyalist fan base, and can comfortably sell out venues across the world. And yet, rather than resting on his laurels, he has instead decided to embark on an earnest quest for meaningful change.

Eventually, the afternoon grows old, and the candle on our table drowns in its wax. Julian’s manager comes over and informs him that it’s time to go, but not before we exchange numbers. The next day, he sends me an invite to the new album’s release party, in the basement of a dive bar just south of Tompkins Square Park. I show up late, and the night passes quickly. Just after 12, I find myself in a narrow smoking area, deep in conversation with the owner of a gourmet restaurant a few blocks away. Behind him, the loudmouthed daughter of a billionaire is chatting with a sleazy nightlife photographer. A friend grabs my shoulder and pulls me inside, where dozens of scenesters, artists, and groupies are throwing shapes on the dance floor—but Julian is nowhere to be found. Then, as the hour wanes, his tall frame emerges like an apparition, skulking just outside a private room at the back of the bar. A beat passes, maybe two, and the opening verse of “All the Same” starts to play through the loudspeaker: “Oh, I was wrong, I was wrong. Now I’m a lonely boy. I’m gonna disappear into thin air.” And he does.

#bands #the voidz #julian casablancas #laby era #creem magazine #interviews #some fascinating insight into laby here. dont know how i feel about it #but it's a pretty good interview i think #i like his dynamic w the interviewer #not my scans

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synthetic-sadness · 6 months ago

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Brooklyn Baby

photo credits to owners on pinterest (mine is green filter edition)

Pairing: Peter Steele x Lana Del Rey

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: 18+, Slight Angst, Self-Esteem issues, Slight NSFW, Slight OOC (really tried not to), Alcohol Issues, Developing Relationship, 90s setting;

I saw that well-known photoshop of them both and couldn’t help myself. I’m a creep, writing about pairings that one person like (me 👈) is my fetish 👹 English is not my native language, this is my first work so it may contain some mistakes. Enjoy ✨🧚‍♀️

NSFW under the next cut 💚

They broke her heart every time when she decided that one of these men is the only one for her, special. She was so naive, even after all of these nasty heartbreaks she somehow stayed pure.

Sad hazel eyes, but there's the light still seen in.

He had a big heart, that had been stitched, almost torn by many of long red nails of gothic and ordinary long-haired «succubuses». He'd been tricked countless times that he didn't even remember correctly the lies they'd been saying to him. And he almost gave up, almost decided to not to fall in with anyone, but still wanted to love and be loved one day.

Big sad green eyes, but there's a hope still seen in.

They met each other at the festival. She had just dropped her new album and a good respected label noticed her and offered a contract. At first she didn't trust them because of her previous record which flopped almost immediately, but in the end decided to say yes. And, after all, Elizabeth got a real jackpot.

He, at the same time, had been promoting Type O's album "Bloody kisses" in tours for two years. Meanwhile, the new material for a next release had been accumulating gradually, but there was no time for a proper work. Moreover, guys felt rather tired not only to write new songs, but to give concerts. Sometimes they couldn't decide what to do: to kill each other, because of living on a bus for a few years together and having enough, or to kill themselves.

And Lizzy, on the other hand, was excited to perform in front of a large number of people. Finally, these years of being in "underground scene" had paid off and she could present her music to various listeners.

But beside a thrill there was a huge fear. Not paralysing, but still.

She used to give concerts in bars and small clubs and the last one also were new to her. Girl was just getting used to its surroundings, to crowd of more than twenty people, when a manager said that she'll attend a festival in Europe. It was huge and she was completely terrified by the thought of many people would be there but tried not think about it a lot.

And the day came.

Her hotel room was comfortable but felt blank because of its colour — white. Not this cold hospital white one which make you feel anxiety, but soothing empty white. There were only a few colourful pieces of furniture: round mirror framed with brown wood, grey carpet and her black suitcase. Nothing special.

There was an odd feeling inside Lizzy's chest when she was looking around her surroundings while preparing clothes and make up for the show. It was that moment, when nothing special is happening, but you know that this scene will imprint in your mind as something meaningful.

It was a feeling. Probably it would be a great concert for her.

The hotel was close to the festival's field so it didn't take too long to reach their destination. And when Elizabeth saw a crowd of people she was not only shocked by the number of them but also by their looks. They were all different, but there were so many metalheads that girl immediately wanted to scream at her manager "What am I going to do here?!"

"Take it easy, it's a mixed crowd," said her tech-guy. "There are enjoyers of indie too. They just decided to bring together alternative sub-genres."

"Oh," was all that she could say.

One hour left before the show and their team chose to have a look around. Elizabeth was examining people, listening to their conversations and small talks, looking at other's bands merch tents and just trying to get use to the festival in general. When she got tired of it, which happened pretty quickly, she went to a backstage for preparing.

And there, turning her head and searching for the right direction, Lizzy happened to bump into someone pretty damn harshly.

A strong and massive hand on her left shoulder stopped her from collapsing onto floor but she still stumbled little bit.

"I'm sorry, I'm just huge for this world and you're kinda petite for mine," said a very tall man in extremely deep voice which impressed Elizabeth and even scared a little bit.

"Oh, that's okay, I'm really clumsy today," she chuckled lightly and fixed her hair reflectively because she had spent a few hours by making the vintage hair-dress and didn't want to ruin it.

"Stay safe," the big man nodded shortly but politely and went into the depths of the backstage area which consisted of black boxes with equipment, many sound-tech and light-tech guys, bands with their groupies (there were few of that girls, but still they were), just people who worked at the festival and all of these folk were hidden from view of audience by many metal bars and tent roof.

"Wow..." Lizzy chuckled again being impressed with his height and voice. What a man, really. He looked like a living example of testosterone.

This short encounter cheered her but the girl still couldn't get rid of this creeping anxious feeling in her lower stomach.

Rest of the time of waiting Elizabeth was watching other bands play. Tried to watch their show attentively and understand their art but after every few minutes she was returning to the only one thought: "Fuck, there is gonna be my turn soon! What am i going to do?!". Even if she liked music the fear of failure was so strong that it almost made her choke and cry.

But the girl pulled herself together and when the time had come and violinists started playing the heartbreaking tune she gladly took a hand of one of her tech-guys, who helped her got on stage because of her high wedge shoes and shaking knees it was so easy to twist an ankle and emabarras oneself.

It was daytime. The sun was shining high in the sky but hidden behind some kind of milky haze, there was no a single cloud and no reminding that it could be blue. Just this milky silk with rare golden sun rays.

And because of it the crowd was clearly seen. Many musicians say that doing shows in an afternoon is hard task and Lizzie was not exception.

All of these tiny people dressed in different clothes and looking like scattered skittles on the floor were clearly visible. But it's no more funny when you start gaze in to their faces and see how they were impatiently waiting to see and hear something good.

Elizabeth let out a great breath, opened her mouth and it all happened by itself. So naturally and so right.

Peter was irritated and tired because they had to perform late in the evening and it was only 3 p.m. He had already done everything that the man usually did when he was bored to death and paralyzed by stage fright: firstly, drank a bottle of wine, then got into small argument with Josh but it wasn't a big deal because they both knew that they all were tired of touring, met some fans, signed their CD's and merch t-shirts and also had a good chat with them.

The only thing that Peter liked in touring was communication with their fans. These people literally were giving away their money that they had earned just to see these "four dead trees" standing on stage. Because of fans and due to the fact that they were buying Type O's albums the group members could live on this money and pay taxes. So, Mr. Steele was so grateful to them, loved them for supporting his art and treated with unlimited respect. Also, the musicians and their fan base had something in general; especially it were sense of humour and music taste.

After spending some time chatting with other bands that guys knew before and getting acquainted with new people, Kenny, Johnny and Peter decided to come closer to the stage and look at the next perfoming person while Josh was somewhere else trying to ease an awful headache.

"Oh, that's something different that we've heard here," said Kenny when violins sounded and then a guitar.

"Yeah, I think it's some kind of an experimental artist or I don't know," the drummer also was interested in the current song.

That's the girl that I had almost crashed today, thought Peter and watched how this particular girl untangled a microphone's wire.

And when she started to sing... Well, Kenny was right: that was something that they hadn't heard before.

The audience was hypnotized and so was the gigantic gothic frontman. People, who were close to him, knew that Peter liked not only hardcore music but something sensual, slow and calm; that's why he had admiration for bands such as Cocteau Twins, Portishead and Dead Can Dance. And this particalr perfomance caught his attention instantly... but not only by music.

She looked like she might glow against the beige sky: in that white lace dress with golden cross on her chest, old-fashioned makeup, red long nails and red hair made into the Priscilla Presley's hairstyle it seemed like the girl came straight from the past. And her tunes also were somewhere between present and the times when people used to worship no God but Hollywood and its platinum blondies in golden dresses. This was particularly noticable in the "National Anthem" song. It was a strange mix, audience didn't understand it fully but they liked the whole experience.

She just came and dragged everyone into her weird but magical portal while tearing apart space and time. And Peter was the first who willingly let her take him away.

"Well, I can say this oficially. She's cool," said Johnny and blew smoke while Kenny was listening carefully to the melody and Peter... well, Peter was smitten and even confounded because the man didn't remember the last time when he was so captivated by music which always had been something intimate to Steele.

He was stunned by her sadness and ethereal melancholia that was running through all of her songs and the set, but what amazed him the most it's "Without You". It was like a painful love letter put into a heartbreaking cry and all of these was sang to the accompaniment of a piano and a violin. The girl was so fragile and feminine at that moment, looking like that "China doll" she sang about that Peter and others wanted to know about whom it was. And he felt desire to be... that man?

Well, yes, she had gotten him charmed by her music, so it was no surpise that the big frontman was impressed by her genuine and shy stage persona, not to mention that she was really beautiful.

The girl looked languid but at the same time her behaviour on stage was adorable: she slowly strolled, smoked from time to time, couldn't keep a cool facade and smiled and giggled when people were cheering and giving other positive reactions. Such a cutie.

"Fuck, this weed doesn't make any sense to my migraine," tired and gloomy Silver finally decided to join them backstage but slowly stopped. "Tell me, am I got so stoned or is there Priscilla Presley on stage?"

"No, it's just some retro girl doing her set," snickered Peter.

"Yeah, and she's kicking asses," the drummer exclaimed. It was always so hilarious to hear him talk and do interviews while other members were around, because unlike them he sounded cheerfully and looked like a golden retriever all the time.

"But slowly," added Hickey.

"Deeply and harder," Steele joked referencing their first album and all of them shared small laugh. It wasn't a joke in general, he really thought that the singer put her heart into the art. And the man was not the only one who came to such conclusion; everyone noticed that as well.

When the set came to the end she blew a kiss and waved under the sound of cheering crowd, looking absolutely happy and terrified at the same time. And there, offstage, people also were clapping for her which immediately made her cheeks burn with heat. She did it, but her body was still shivering uncontrollably.

After a while this blood-sucking feeling was no longer gone and was replaced by a pleasent numbness. There, before the show, everything felt like an eternal nightmare, and now Lizzie was almost floating.

In recording studio she felt at home, but in front of audince it was quite opposite. A disgusting feeling, like someone is peeling your skin, however Lizzie thought that life is short. Once she said that It's important to show yourself in the light that you'd like to be shown and the light she'd like to be shown in is not necessarily in a spotlight in front of everyone else. She loved to introduce herself to people through her lyrics and the way that she thought because she liked it. The way that she looked on stage in front of thousands of people wasn't really her thing but she tried to do her best. But only her closest ones knew that.

And that night, after the stressful but successful perfomance, she decided that examining other musicians may help her learn from them some tiny tips. But the girl stayed not only because of "studying process" — she wanted to find a new music and have a great time because the main difference between gigs and festivals is that that they give you more energy and emotions.

Rock and metal wasn't really her thing but Elizabeth was shocked by an attitude of bands because some of them did a really crazy shit on stage.

And how high was level of her curiosity when she saw that tall guy in a green t-shirt with his band. Of course Lizzie understood that he was some kind of musician when she ran into him but she expected him to play a batshit crazy metal and scream his head off (well, actually he did it few times) but not a slow, dark and extremely sensual heavy tunes. What was more surprising that his persona and deep low voice were created for this type of music which the girl started to enjoy sincerely.

She had a great opportunity to see the man from head to toe: huge, pale and muscular, with long wavy black hair, tattoos on each biceps and beautiful manly vocal which amazed with its sensuality and low tones at once. His sharp, almost sculptured face features with sullen look on them were seen from a distance and after all it was no surprise that women who were backstage decided to watch the show. Other guys in the band were no less cool, they even complemented each other which was amazing, but all of the focus was on the gigantic frontman-vampire with bass guitar on chain strap and a bottle of wine on a box case next to a mic stand, who rolled letter "R" and was making sarcastic jokes with crowd. And what about the instrument Lizzie couldn't keep her giggles when she noticed how small it looked in his hands. What an insane view.

But what was more insane that in the end of the set he just tore the guitar strings with bare hands and silently walked away from the stage with band members. That was a sight that Elizabeth would remember for a long time.

The night was in a full swing, only few bands were about to perform but most of people and musicians were partying hard and enjoying themselves. Type O's were not exception. Some guys decided to throw a party in their bus and it was full of drunk folk dancing, drinking and rocking it from side to side with their actions. When Josh saw this shit he rolled his eyes and decided to have a walk at least untill there would be ten strangers and calm his aching head.

His dear childhood friend was also an introverted soul but sometimes touring routine had been killing him and Peter had no choice but to surrender. And when after few glasses of red wine he felt that he was gonna to throw up because of blaring loud music and flirtatious laugh of women who were trying to hook up with him or other members, the man stood up and walked out of the hellish tour bus.

Chilly night air was like a blessing after that stinky transport that he was sick and tired of being in for two years. Why did he quit his job at the Park Department? Why was he such an idiot? He constantly reaproached himself — especially after drinking his favourite drink.

Peter slowly strolled looking at cheerful and drunk people illuminated with colorful spotlights, feeling how the ground was shaking under his legs with every beat of drums on stage. He loved music with all of his heart but sometimes such atmosphere annoyed him and because of it he decided to go somewhere quieter and less crowded.

And there she was. Standing leg-crossed with a cigarette between delicate long fingers, looking thoughtfully somewhere to the left while many colorful rays of spotlights were flashing behind her back. In that white lace dress she looked like a vision, a ghost, an angel. Completely didn't fit into the surroundings.

Peter really was stunned by her (and her bad habit that he had a fetish for) and even though he wasn't a confident man he thought that he would be a total fool if he wouldn't say few words to her. And he approached her.

"Hi, I'm that guy who almost killed you today," said Peter with a little smirk on his face.

"And I'm the dwarf from your world," she smiled. She had such a cute voice in everyday life, he thought.

"Just wanted to say that your perfomance was great, same with your music," his words were really genuine.

"Oooh, thanks..." the girl instantly turned color and added, "You guys were cool as well."

"Nah, we suck but it's not blood," he brushed off and she started laughing and her giggling sounded light and gentle like a crystal bell.

"Well, I can't agree with you," the fragile singer playfully shaked her head.

"Then you definitely didn't see us,"

"I may be blind but definitely not deaf," she said and sucked in the smoke again.

"Well, I can't agree with you," Peter flashed her a toothy grin and even though she laughed he noticed that his fangs caught her out off guard for a second.

But the moment was interrupted unexpectedly by a man, who seemed to be disturbed by something. He ran up to them quickly and made both worry.

"Gosh, I had been looking for you everywhere!" Marc, who was Type O's bus driver in his late forties, exclaimed wearily to the gigantic frontman while being completely out of breath.

"What happened?"

"Kenny, this bloody asshole, got so hammered that decided to smash some guy's face!" the man with funny mustache and round belly had been visibly irritated. "Only you can help us to pull him away from this poor man."

Everyone knew that Kenny Hickey was a nice fellow but sometimes his demons were making people doubt this statement.

Peter suddenly felt embarrassed because their guitarist turned a complete prick mode on and because he had to leave this lovely stranger in order to save friend's ass.

"Can he deal with his mess himself?" he grumbled but tried not to show how really annoyed he was. "I'm tired of being his bodyguard."

"You know that i don't want to disturb you, Pete, but you're the only one here who can break them up," Marc was right; Steele had enough strength to hold some furious fighter like it was an angry small chihuahua. "This motherfucker is short but very prehensile!"

And that also was true.

"It's okay, you shall go and help your friend," the girl assured him that everything was fine. But in reality he didn't want to leave her, not like that.

"Yeah, you are right. I'm sorry. Thank you for a short but nice chat," Peter nodded to her politely and Marc did the same but more eagerly. "See you."

"Bye," she waved them goodbye knowing well that she and this guy Pete would hardly meet again. And when the big and the small silhouettes gradually had faded from sight over the deep blue sky and moist chilly night air Elizabeth dropped a finished cigarette to the ground, stomped it and felt how her body and mind were drained after a festival's debut.

The girl turned and walked away with one wish: to fall asleep under hotel's soft blankets.

Five months had passed and label's bosses decided that it was enough for Type O Negative to be on tour. After all they still needed to record a new album which of course shall become a commercial success in the end. That's funny how many people think that being well-known musician or other type of artist is so easy: you do what you like, you get paid for it. It certainly gives some privileges but in reality creation of a product of art contains of endless pressure from the record label, self-doubting in your abilities, creative crisis, deadlines, disagreement with your ideas of band members, hours and hours of recording sessions where one single mistake or a badly played note make you return to the begininng, and neverending stress makes you lose it. And you can't leave this game so easily because you had signed a contract for a few music albums.

Peter quickly disappointed when he found out about the music industry when he was 24. Now, being a 32-year-old man he got used to it but still didn't fully accept its rules and didn't wanted to be led. Their work in a studio usually wasn't going well; everytime Pete cursed the day when he left his job but repeatedly admitted that he was a masochist.

Because of their common love of misery guys from Type O's were making the new album but after a month of continuous work they started to take few a days off. And you can only imagine how "happy" was Peter when he found out that his whole weekend he had to spend under the hood of his car which the man affectionately called "The Beast": a huge black machine with no bumpers but large wooden planks, big bright lights on the top of it and a truck horn. This "monster" had been both repainted and repaired many times by Peter himself and many repairings were done for the purpose of upgrading. Unfortunately that time it needed a a real repairing.

But even though being an excellent handyman that he was, that time Mr. Steele was too exhausted to do fixing himself. And a solution was simple: to visit a good friend in a car service in Brooklyn.

The fellow of his was a good man, they chatted for a little bit, caught each other up their latest news, had a good laugh but Peter didn't want to disturb him and then went to a record store nearby the car service.

There in a small room full of stands with CD's and vinyls and a silent salesman behind the cash desk with a magazine in his hands the frontman was studying range of music products. He came there just to kill some time but had been looking at new music with interest before his gaze fell upon one special record in best-selling section.

He felt how his eyes glued themselves to the image of an red-haired girl dressed in a white shirt. The colors and the idea were pretty simple: a mid-shot of girl's face and upper body to show audience beautiful features with serious expression of the artist, blue sky, pale wooden barrier and probably an old-fashioned car. Blue font on white read "Born to Die" and white one on blue was typed in big letters "Lana Del Rey".

Luxurious and vintage as I had thought, Peter thought to himself.

That was what he had been looking for since their short encounter that night at the festival. It was so brief and blurred that the man had no time at least to ask for her name. The next day he'd spent looking for her merch tent to buy her music but it turned out to be that she had no one. Moreover the idea to look for someone when you don't even know their name itself was stupid and doomed to failure from the beginning.

And at that moment Peter felt that a missing puzzle piece went up in its place. It was an exact feeling when you finally learn about what you have been trying to find out for so long. Some kind of bliss may be said. Plus he really wanted to listen to the records of this melancholic songstress because he saw the same mood in her music that he had in his own.

But what Peter didn't expect is to see her at the same record store, slowly shuffling through vinyls.

His heart dropped for a second and the next was slight panic and the urge to grab her so she wouldn't disappear. It was so sudden that he didn't know what to say to her and not look like an idiot. Although Peter couldn't miss the chance.

He had decided that it would be better if he'd just leave the CD on the self to not look like some creep in her eyes and went straight to her while slightly waping his sweating palms on dark blue jeans.

"Hello," a familiar deep voice came above her head.

Lizzie quickly looked up and jumped a little, the height of the gothic bassist gave her a slight jumpscare. He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Oh, hi," she immeaditely became flustered. "What a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me too actually," and then he frowned a little. "I'm sorry that I disappeared so quickly last time."

"That's okay," the girl simply waved her hand. "I hope your friend is doing fine."

"Yeah, he is much better now," Peter slightly snored at the memory of Kenny kicking and screaming threating nonsense and being completely pale with greenish shade the day after he had spent hugging a toilet.

The man took his large hand out for a handshake "I'm Peter."

Lizzie accepted the gesture, her elegant small hand was swallowed by his very gentle touch.

"I'm Elizabeth, nice to meet you officially."

Peter felt a slight pang in his chest.

His "favourite" name. Again.

But he didn't show her sadness hidden behind green eyes. She was not "that" Elizabeth, she was more humane and warm person without a single doubt.

"The pleasure is mine. I've been looking for your records at the festival but found it here" Peter pointed at the best-selling section "I can say that you're doing great".

"Yeah and I still can't believe it..." looking at her own image with grateful expression Elizabeth shooked her head and the gigantic rocker believed the sincerity of her words. And when a dreamy glint in eyes of hers was gone she turned to him with crossed arms. "What brought you here?"

"Firstly, I live here. And secondly, my car is getting fixed down the street," Peter explained in his velvet low voice.

The girl smiled when she understood which accent he got.

"I'm here to see my uncle. I used to live in Brooklyn too with him and my aunt."

"You did?" he slightly raised his eyebrows in surprise. When Peter first saw her onstage he had a strong feeling that she was somewhere from West Coast. Now she looked like a typical city girl: her wavy red hair was loose, same vintage makeup but not so catchy that was at performance, dressed in tight jeans and racing Ferrari red bomber jacket.

Brooklyn was not a glamorous place to live in and Peter knew it well and wondered how living there had affected her or even had inspired in work.

"Yes, but then I had moved to Bronx, after that to New Jersey, lived in a trailer, then returned back so... Well, actually a list of my relocations turned to be a little bit longer than that," she felt a bit awkward because of oversharing and the thought that she was boasting off which was not true.

"You have an interesting life as i see," a small smile was curving the frontman's lips. But the next moment he got slightly tensed, inquired. "Would you like to have a snack and tell me more about your journeys someday?"

"I would love to," her face was graced by a radiant smile which made Peter's stomach drop but he had no clue why.

"I'll give you my phone number..." he took a crumpled small piece of paper and short pencil from pocket of his leather jacket and

"You've prepared," Lizzie giggled citing the fact that he could use it while meeting women.

"Being an old man that I am I need this to write down a grocery list. I hate this feeling when I'm in a supermarket looking for milk but ending up buying tampons," this dramatic head shake and the fact that he had been joking so easily about himself made her think that he liked to be some kind of a clown.

"Poor Peter," she snickered.

"I can say the same about all of musicians," he grinned and caught her looking at his fangs with curiosity again while laughing.

The fact that the girl was exposed didn't go unnoticed and Elizabeth's pink cheeks showed her embarrassment at the situation.

"Thank you..." she lowered her head when he gave her the paper but quickly regained her composure. "Um.. can I ask you for something?"

"Of course," his eyes showed slight concern.

"I have been looking for your records but didn't find one. Can I find it here?"

Oh that, our shitty music albums, the man chuckled at himself.

"Let me see," the musician decided to act like he didn't know that their and Carnivore's discography was in that store. Peter Steele was kind of hero of Brooklyn music scene, many musicians and metalheads knew him and his music (even though he was harsh on himself) had a great impact on others' musical creations.

He went to a section of rock and different genres of metal and pretended to be searching hard for the album, in fact just moving his CDs back and forth, and after a minute of that shameless simulation under Lizzie's watchful eye he picked the latest one, "Bloody Kisses".

"Here," Peter returned and gave her the current CD.

She gladly accepted it while paying attention to how long his slender fingers were. But her attention was instantly captured by two moaning goth-like girls on the cover in a moment of heavy make-out-session... Well, Elizabeth heard their songs live and all of the erotic messages that were there, so it wasn't a big surprise.

"Oh, that's... provocative," she giggled awkwardly looking at the cover from both sides.

"We play dirty," stated Peter in pleased voice. But the cause of his high spirits was that he liked to see how she was getting shy in front of him at his actions or any nonsense that he'd said.

The man turned to get her record but instead was interrrupted.

"Oh, It's not a good version. Trust me!" Lizzie exclaimed. The puzzled and confused gaze he gave her made songstress disappear behind various stands.

And when she came back he saw her holding another music record of hers. The cover was shot with the same prospect but style was different: vintage luxury, swimming pool and palm trees in the back, dressed in swimming suit with straight loose hair looking magnificent as always. All of these was framed with golden textures. It had the same name but under the title there were small gold letters: The Paradise Edition.

"This is a special edition, went on sale only a week ago. The first one sells good but this has twelve more songs and costs the same, even cheaper."

"Thanks for taking care of my wallet," smirked Peter. "That's actually good that you've decided to add so many songs even though I'm sure that your label made you do it."

"Yeah, but I'm glad that I can finally show my material to the world..." he noticed that her cute voice always sounded very garetful when it came to the music and opportunities that were given to her. And then Lizzie stole a quick glance at a round wall clock that hung on the wall behind the salesman. "I think that I shall go and meet my uncle, don't wanna make him wait for me."

"Sure," the frontman felt a sudden wave of sadness and despair by looking at her buying his CD and knowing well that they wouldn't meet so soon, hastily added. "I'd like to call you but I don't know when you'll be in New York next time."

"I'm here everyday," the girl said and threw him a meaningful smile over her shoulder. Then she got the change and waved at him. "Bye."

When glass doors closed themselves with a quiet slam Elizabeth no longer saw the amused look on the big man's face.

"What was that?" Peter chuckled to himself under the annoyed gaze of the salesman, who had been waiting impatinately for them both to pay.

What was that, Lizzie thought to herself while walking down the street to a café when she and her uncle had decided to have a cup of coffee.

Looking down at the CD record in her hands she couldn't help but shake her head with wry chuckle. This is all so strange. At first that festival which almost made her shit herself, then this huge gothic guy with fangs and corny sense of humour...

He wasn't her type at all. Yes, she had said many times that she had no type but all of her boyfriends had something in common: appearance or some kind of fleur around them. But Peter was different. He was beautiful in a dark way; pale, long-haired with manly face and hypnotic green eyes looking like a black-maned demigod or a vampire. But Lizzie had no interest in vampires... until when?

Anyway, there was something about him that seemed to be magnetic for her romantically or not.

Five days later they met in a good place where they could have a proper meal and a real conversation and where nothing and no one could interupt them this time. At first Peter had wanted to invite her to a premium restaurant but then he thought that it would look like a date and he didn't want to scare her away that way... Well, to be honest the man didn't fully understand what he felt for her. But the one thing was clear: he was drawn to the melancholic songstress.

"...and then you moved to London?" Peter asked while pouring red wine into his glass after she had kindly refused the drink. He was trying to sort out Lizzie's life and her numerous moves and almost every one of them had been remembered by him.

Her life looked like that detailed puzzles that people buy and then forget about them because its complexity irritate them and make them feel oppressed due to they can't easily collect it. But when it's finaly ready it looks so fascinatingly and reassuring that they can't tear their gazes away.

And Peter even felt little bit embarrassed because being six years older than Elizabeth he still hadn't moved out of his parents' basement. His life was so boring compared to hers: no relocations, no life in a trailer, no metaphysics degree.

"Yes, right after my first studio album got flopped," she said and took a sip of her Pepsi. "I lived in a shitty flat with no heat, it was so awful."

"Looks like you took everything from life," he smiled and got chuckle out of the girl.

"Not at all," with slight frown Lizzie remembered all those ten years that she was desperately trying to break into a music scene.

"Anyway, I'm pleased to be in a company of such an intelligent and erudite woman."

And again there was heat rising on her cheeks.

"Am I wrong or you do really enjoy see me blushing?" her lips curved into an cute-awkward smile. "However, thanks."

"Making people feel uncomfortable is my another favourite hobby," significantly stated Peter and there was a mischievous small sparkle in his eyes when he sipped wine.

Oh, if only she knew about "Nazi" scandal, the original cover of "The Origin of the Feces", being "misogynist" and this "Prelude to Agony" song...

He wasn't proud of it at all, but that's what happens when you have a provocative vision of art and crude humour.

"I noticed that when you played this 'Christian Woman'. Kinda reminded me about the time when I was in a Catholic school. Singing in choir and loving going to a church..." the girl's face assumed a nostalgic expression as if she cherished those times which surprised the gothic musician — his own experience was quite the opposite.

"Oh, that means that I wrote this song about you?" he asked jokingly.

"Well, I don't remember that I could be touching myself while looking at crucifix at nights. So, probably no."

"Yeah, it was me who had been fantasying about Jesus, sorry..." Peter was fooling around again, like he used to act around with his close ones, but when he saw her restrained smile and shining eyes he decided to tell a little bit more. "Actually, I wrote this song out of my experience being a catholic boy during puberty. Nocturnal emissions and other embarassing things, you know. Just made up a sensual story out of a teenage nightmare."

"I do write songs based on my life too," Elizabeth nodded knowingly. Her favourite way to write music was when the stuff that made the girl emotional had happened so she could see things more clearly. But at that moment she thought about how many of his songs were filled with real experience and not wet and gloomy fantasies.

There was a short pause before Peter spoke again.

"You have this interesting song. Um, 'my pussy tastes like Pepsi cola' as long as I remember..." he uttered with a puzzled expression, looking away like couldn't remember it properly but in reality he was just messing around with her again.

Her hazel eyes immediately widened.

"Oh my god!" she choked on the exact drink and quickly caught the attention of other visitors. Some of them had stopped their conversations and turned around to see what the matter but they saw the songstress wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Very interesting line," the man could hardly keep the smile off his face.

That bastard... that extremely good-looking bastrad, Elizabeth thought.

"Oh my god, ughh!" she hid her face behind palms and groaned embarassingly. If few moments ago her cheeks were briefly dusted with pink, now she was sure that the heat her face was radiating could be felt from the other end of the table.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to embarrass you so much!" he laughed heartedly. It was a deep rumbling sound that Lizzie wanted to hear again and again. So smooth and calming.

"No, it's fine," the girl waved her hands. "Well... oh my," she couldn't help but snored again. "One of my friends, he's Scottish, ones said that American girls' pusseys taste like Pepsi cola. And I thought that's would sound cool."

"Your friend seems to be an expert in foreign cuisine," Peter noted ironically.

"I don't want to go into these details!" the girl exclaimed giggling.

He liked to make her laugh, how she lowered her long lashes, how her plump lips were curving into a gentle smile. That was a hypnotic sight to see.

Although, this part of conversation was hillarious but Lizzie couldn't help but felt slightly insecure.

"Do you have silly songs like this one?" she looked calm but the way she started to pick her long manicured nails didn't go unnoticed by the big gothic musician.

"Every song of ours is silly," his biting self-criticism was storng as always. Had this man ever admitted his achievements?

"Come on," the songstress rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

Peter coughed — that was the habit of his, he did it occasionally during conversations or interviews — and thought.

"Alright... um, from the last album it is Black No. 1," that time the answer was honest and serious.

"Really? But it's a hit. I saw the crowd going insane when they heard it," she wondered. The song was brilliant, catchy and had great pontential and not to mention the fact that it was the single. Audience was shouting, jumping and singin along with the band that evening.

"I would like to look at them when they find out that this song is about hair dye that I wrote in a traffic jam while driving a garbage truck," Peter smirked. "Although, I've said that too many times in interviews. People don't understand that's a sarcasm. I noticed that they don't understand what sarcasm is at all."

Then she started to understand that Peter Steele was not about gothic romantism and sex; this person was much deeper and complicated. But in a witty way, may say.

"Being a musician means that every song of yours shall mean something deep and contain higher thoughts. But how exactly this hair dye inspired you? I'm interested."

"My ex-girlfriend used it and she still does, I think. She was a gothic girl, a real hot stuff. She listened to goth bands and was making fun of my music taste, especially hardcore bands that I liked at that time. She said that I don't know the real music."

"That's kinda stupid of her," said Lizzie with furrowed eyebrows and took another sip of Pepsi. She'd always thought that It's so childish to make make fun of something that you don't like or don't understand yourself.

"Yeah, but at that time I was crazy about her, I didn't mind," the man just shrugged his shoulders.

This made her wonder about that girl: how she looked like, was she really that hot as Peter saw her, how she smelled like and what kind of a perfume she used, was her voice low and sultry or high and pitchy, how she prefered to spend her free time and was she more beautiful than Lana herself.

Lizzie found herself thinking about these silly things and but decided to brush them off. She had no need to know about his love life. But anyway, almost every song that Elizabeth had heard on that 'Bloody Kisses' record (oh, and how she got so fucking scared when in the beginning some girl started to moan heart-rendingly) was about both mental and physical relationships with women.

"So, according to my observations can I say that women are your main inspiration?" the girl asked curiously but couldn't hide that mischievous glint that was seen in her hazel eyes. She wondered if this giant would deny it with male shame or agree willingly in order to cozy up to her.

"Not main, but they are also important to me," Peter stated simply understanding that the talented companion wanted to mess with him little bit. And he smirked himself teasingly. "But you too have these love ballads from what I've heard."

And then that glimmer in her eyes faded. Lizzie had two options: to tell the truth or to laugh it off playfully and move on next topic. But somehow she felt urge to share a little bit. Maybe because he was an artist too or because she just wanted to.

"Ha, well..." Lizzie giggled but it was more nervous and sad chuckle. "I'm an ex-alcoholic."

The playful mood that was between them two quickly vanished after that leaving a ringing silence. Peter was looking at the girl and feeling guilty for making her feel uncomfortable by offering to drink wine earlier but Lana was okay.

That moment he saw her in a different light but not in a bad one: behind this careless lush red hair, vintage makeup, long nails and golden necklaces was something dark, tragic and fragile. People who saw her and heard her music thought tha she was just a foolish beautiful doll with whining songs and a pathetic product of a good label. But that's not true.

This beautiful porcelain doll had barely noticable cracks and Peter wanted to see what was behind them, inside.

The man felt ashamed for drinking wine so casually in front of her all the evening.

"Oh, sorry, shall I..." he started to apologize hastily and his already big green eyes became even bigger while fussing and attempting to get rid of alcohol on their table.

"No, I'm not so fucked up," Elizabeth rolled her eyes with ironic smile at his fuss, he was so cute. "I mean, almost in every music piece that I create there is a small hint about my past addiction."

He nodded silently in response and felt no desire to sip this wine; the laid-back atmosphere around them collapsed like a shattering glass but it wasn't girl's fault. Suddenly Peter found the dark red liquid in his glass so interesting to observe.

"You may be silent but I see the question in your eyes, you know," Lizzie joked and got chuckle out of the frontman.

"Right," he smirked in a guilty way and slightly lowered his head to hide a fact that his pale cheeks were flushed with shame.

"It's all started when I was fourteen," she began her story. "When I was very young I was sort of floored by the fact that my mother and my father and everyone I knew was going to die one day, and myself too. I had a sort of a philosophical crisis. I couldn't believe that we were mortal. For some reason that knowledge sort of overshadowed my experience. I was unhappy for some time. I got into a lot of trouble. I used to drink a lot. That was a hard time in my life."

"I know it all sounds silly, but... I was a big drinker at the time. I would drink every day. My parents were worried, I was worried. I knew it was a problem when I liked it more than I liked doing anything else. I was like, 'I'm fucked. I am totally fucked'. Like, at first it's fine and you think you have a dark side — it's exciting — and then you realise the dark side wins every time if you decide to indulge in it. It's also a completely different way of living when you know that...a different species of person. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me."

"In general, my album is about me being a crazy mess in my teens," the girl waved her hands so simply that made Peter blink distractedly. One minute she was telling a harsh story and then acting like nothing happened. There was no bad taste for her but maybe they are telling truth? Time heals?

"I just wondered why we're here and was sort of consumed by the fact that everyone's gonna, um, leave this planet. About love..." Lizzie smirked tauntingly returning to the previous question. "They think that I write songs about a specific guy who broke my heart or 'bout the man I will love forever, but the true is most of my "love songs" are about alcohol. Don't know, when I write about the thing that I've lost I feel like I write about alcohol because that was the first love of my life."

The gothic bassist remained silent but couldn't tear his gaze off. Not anymore.

"Anyway, this fact doesn't change that I still have bad taste in men," an awkward giggle escaped her lips.

"Can say the same about my taste in women," Peter joked to support. But in that one there was also some truth.

Elizabeth really wanted not to talk about her personal life, at least not right now, but the urge to babble about it was so strong so the girl was holding herleslf back as much as she could.

"It's just like, once I was blessed to find someone who made me so happy. But, in the end, it seemed like I wasn't good enough for him."

"I think you were more than enough," he said surely, his deep voice was filled with warm and kind notes.

"You can't know such things, you weren't there," she uttered with her hand shuffled through patterned napkins in a carved metal napkin holder on the table. Lizzie didn't want him to assure her in something that she still couldn't figure out.

"I know that's true because someone who says this usually that one who tried their best in a such shitty relationship."

That made her reflect on it.

"Well, I can't help but agree with you this time..."

The rest of the evening went well and calm. They felt some kind of an ease and were joking and talking like nothing had happened before, just having a good time in general. However, both sensed that someting intimate flashed between them, especially after Lizzie's honest tale. In response the gothic frontman told her that bottles of wine onstage were not for cool entourage: he had a bad stage fright like Lana did.

Later that night, when Peter came home being greeted by his few cats he played her CD again. Skipped to the 'Born To Die' and started listening to it from a new perspective knowing small details and a skeleton of the piece.

And that moment he knew — he was falling for her. Fast and irreversibly.

After that night Peter and Elizabeth started to spend more time together. At first they had been meeting twice a week but soon Peter started to notice more and more often that he's on phone with Lizzie asking her for a walk. And their walks weren't romantic or too amorous. That were two brilliant people, even though they didn't know that about themselves, walking around New York together, telling stories and discussing many topics but all they did was only in a friendly way. Even though Peter cut his long strides in half to walk alongside the girl, her legs were aching anyway after their 'city tours'.

Elizabeth was intrigued by the fact that passers-by always looked at him, examined his tall figure, long black hair with a police cap, dressed in the leather jacket. Of course it was difficult not to notice him but he had something special about him, and it's not just beauty, that made women stare at him.

Especially Lizzie Woolridge Grant.

Once they walked around Manhattan and she told him how the city had inspired her in so many of her songs. When she was younger the girl used to wander around New York and hum some tunes then she just cuptered them on paper. 'I was a waitress at that time,' she said. In return the Brooklyn's giant took her to his favourite Chinese food restaurant and bought meals for 60$.

Peter started to quickly dissapear after every music session and the guys liked to make fun of him every time they got a chance. Kenny and Johnny were joking, Josh did it too but more cautiously. He knew very well how vulnerable his friend was so he didn't want to rescue his big boney ass if something would go wrong. Even though they didn't know Lana personally three of them had a common joke that next time Peter would write a sarcastic song about vintage hair curlers and a glue for fake eyelashes.

Meanwhile Lizzie began to realize that she was attached to him not only because he a beautiful, intelligent, polite and restrained Individual... The reason surprised her — she liked him.

While listening to his album, which was a gimmick in her collection, the girl found herself not enjoying Type O's instrumental anymore. From then on it was all about his voice, no matter if he talked or sang. His deep velvet voice with rambling laugh made her knees weak. She could no longer look him in the eyes without admiration which immediately led to confusion and shyness.

At the same time Elizabeth started to caught his glances more often. Of course Peter had found her attractive before but now he couldn't help himself. Every time the man looked at her gorgeous face he wanted to trace his fingers down her cheekbones, full lips... those lips... The frontman wanted to devour them in the most hot and sweet kiss at once.

This continued for some time. Long walks along Coney Island, restaurants meals and conversations about music, art and love affairs.

They said that they didn't want anything serious or a proper relationship and the very next second they were passionately kissing in his car. Long slender fingers tangled in red hair, long manicured nails slightly scracthed the back of the neck. Both knew that there was no way back. Both were so fucking glad.

Peter didn't paid attention to friends'mockeries of him being excited and in love. Instead he began to invite Lizzie to their recording sessions which didn't disturb the process at all. She had known inner workings of the recording and tried not to distract them very much but she made friends with all of them somehow anyway (what a bunch of facts, both gross and nice, guys told her about Green Man...). And for Pete her presence in the studio had been good. Melancholic songstress didn't know that she was in fact his muse at that time and that most of his creative fantasies, and not only creative, were about her.

Out of respect she didn't buy this 'Playgirl' magazine with his spicy photo session. But in the very beginning of their relationship there was a huge temptation because her hormones gone wild.

It was so scary and thrilling. Lizzie was afraid because she'd heard about his tour lifestyle. God, she even didn't need to hear about this — the girl saw with her own eyes how women were looking at him wherever they were going together. Particularly after that infamous magazine which seemed to be not only for ladies...

But she decided to dive into it, knowing there would be no turning back. Only a broken heart and vain hope.

Though everything between these two were developing gradually and correctly.

Several months later Peter being a family guy that he was decided to introduce Elizabeth to his big family. His mother, Nettie, really liked her (the woman complimented her hair-style every time), five older sisters and their kids thought that she was nice and even Peter Sr who usually prefered to stay out of son's private life, that was his wife's job, who knew about love adventures of their youngest child, appreciated his new squeeze. He also promised Peter that if he would hurt her somehowhe he would get in the neck. In response the man just laughed and pledged that she will be cherished and taken care of. Just like Lizzie deserved and how his sisters taught him to treat a woman.

Life is so god damn weird, she thought looking at his sculptured masculine profile while having a ride with him one night. Peter could swear loudly at passing cars or speaking in puns just to hear Lizzie's laugh, her real laugh: loud and bright, not small giggles.

That European festival supposed to increase the music career of hers, a task with which it was succesessful, but in addition it gave Lizzie something bigger: a great man and worthy relationships.

Compared to this her past experiences were just a shit on a sole. No regrets.

Behind shutters there cars were passing in the night with a dissapearing flash and a distant roar. The light in the room was dim, a lamp with a red illuminating bulb was on. Such glow created a mysterious atmosphere with lit candles in the bedroom combined with living room in the flat in Queens.

Cocteau Twins' 'Pepper-Tree' was softly playing in the background. The only sound that was heard besides it were light sighs and quiet girly moans.

Lizzie's naked body was wriggling on light burgundy cotton sheets under Peter's skillful tongue and watchful eyes. She was lightly swaying her hips, arching her back with sexy breathy 'Oh's, grabbing her perky breasts herself and pinching hard nipples between the middle and index finger.

Looking at such erotic and mesmerizing view Peter was absolutely sure in one thing: he would spend his whole life between legs of his angelic girlfriend if he could just to hear these moans and see her beautiful face in pure ecstasy, with closed eyes and parted full lips.

"Mm, you taste divine..." he murmured lowly and adding thoughtfully. "Those soda bubbles and cherry... or vanilla, I haven't figured it out yet..."

She rolled her eyes but this time not from pleasure.

"Why do you have to do this right now?" Lizzie asked irritably and rose on her elbows feeling her climax fading and lustful mood ruined.

"Because you yourself say that your pussy tastes like Pepsi cola. It's not my fault!" said the man in his defence. He could hardly hid the cheeky grin behind her smooth silky skin.

Sometimes he was so unbearable.

"When I wrote that I thought that it would sounds cool, but now I hate this line more than anything!" she stated heatedly and lay on her back again.

He always found her so cute and funny complaining about her lyrics.

"I think it's one of the coolest things that I've ever heard about vagina."

Elizabeth turned a deaf ear on that.

"Ugh, why am I such an idiotic songwriter?!" Lizzie groaned hiding her face behind palms.

Peter was looking at her while calmly running his big palms up and down her thighs in soothing manner.

"I am always trying to create something but every time ending up doing some stupid shit!"

"And because of it I love you."

Bitter annoyance and frustration were gone. Her tongue was immediately caught in her throat. She even forgot how to breathe.

The girl looked at him over her naked breasts expecting to see a grimace of fear and painful waiting but she saw absolute assurance in his pretty manly face. These words weren't a fleeting gust even though they were in bed.

"What?" sounded like a choked gasp.

"I love you."

Lizzie had blinked few times before she began to feel hot clear tears running down her shocked face.

She grabbed him in attempt to pull closer and planted a hot and strong kiss on his lovely mouth. While their lips were moving Peter felt her whispering 'I love you' all over again and again. And they couldn't be happier than at that night.

'You make me feel electric' Lizzie said to Peter when they were lying on the bed in his basement, just cuddling with his cats at their feet. Grizzelda was purring when the songstress scratched her tiny head delicately.

Both lovers and cats were napping that rainy evening and Elizabeth felt absolute peace. It was always like that near him.

'That's because I always give you these electrical shocks every time you touch me?' he asked hoarsely and she giggled tiredly.

He was so humble, so sweet, gentle and down-to-earth that the girl could no longer imagine her life without Peter. More important, it was mutual.

For the first time Pete saw that his woman could show as much affection as he did himself with her. Every hour spent with Lizzie he could compare to delicate sunbathing in warm Spring days. The muscician almost felt how the light was seeping through him with their every interaction.

She made a discovery that he wasn't that gloomy and serious like she saw him on that European festival. He was a jokester, who liked to fool around with puns and scare his loved ones with weird noises that the deep voice of his could make. But the man treated people with respect and was friendly to everyone. Of course he could have bad days like any of us, when the bassist could sit there all grumpy with furrowed bushy eyebrows and with no desire to share his worries with her. Peter preferred to keep everything to himself, just not to bother anyone on or not to look like a weak person.

Otherwise, he was a tender and supportive soul.

But still, Lizzie anxiously waited for that moment and it happened. He just couldn't be only hers forever. Not him, not Peter Steele.

One day at the party of some friend of' the drab four' guys' Kenny went to her to talk about it. She was terrified to hear next 'You see...' or 'I don't want to be the person who'll tell you this but I know that he has no balls to do it himself, so...'. But instead the guitarist said that he was almost shocked to see Peter not paying attention to any other woman anymore but her. And he said that he was very proud of his mate and them both. Lizzie didn't know what to say and Kenny didn't know what to do when he saw her crying.

And how shaken was Peter when he saw his girlfriend shedding floods of tears in a corner with his best friend standing next to her.

"What a fuck is going on, man?!" shouted the frontman angrily without paying attention that his friends and acquaintances stared at him instantly while being anxious and confused.

"Pete, I..." Kenny started to make excuses but his mate didn't want to hear any.

Peter looked at Lizzie for an answer but without any words she unexpectedly threw herself at him, tugging his neck down and capturing his lips with a strong kiss full of adoration. Distractedly accepted the gesture and scooped the melancholic songstress closer but still had no idea; his friends just snickered and returned to their previous activities.

Later she told him the reason of this public 'rush of love' and the man couldn't help but laughed and pulled her closer to his huge frame.

But still there was a third wheel between them two.

It was a miracle that the city in their such differernt tour programs had coincided. Lizzie's first worldwide tour had been a success. Sales were great, people bought tickets for the shows and records, appearences on TV and interviews on radio. Life was sweet like cinnamon. But what eluded her the most that she had opportunity to see her man performing right after her perfomance would be finished.

When the time had come Lizzie was walking down the backstage hall hurriedly to see Peter after five-month-separation.

"Johnny!" the singer greeted happily walking past Kelly.

"Hi, dear," the drummer smiled in his cheerful manner.

"Where's Peter?" the eagerness in her voice made her sound like a little girl waiting for Santa at midnight.

"He is in the dressing room alone," he showed her the very last door in the end.

"Thank you," she lightly patted his back and went into the direction.

Full of enthusiasm and giddy impatience Lizzie had thought how tightly he would hug her. His warm mitts on her back, cheeks, gentle kisses on lips, the crown of the head.

But when the door was open Peter didn't show joy at all. The frontman had been trying to hide a bottle of red wine but failed. The red liquid accidentally spilled on the dirty carpeting from the sudden movement.

"Shit!" he hissed lowly either of being caught red-handed or because he'd almost ruined his pants.

Elizabeth's expression turned to stone one. The wish to squeeze him tight in her embrace died, instead she wanted to leave with a loud bang of the door but it was not her style.

"We were talking about it, Pete," Lizzie said quietly but as stern as she could.

"I remember," the man nodded not looking at her with a blank face.

"You told me that that was the last time," at that time words came with more passion.

"I remeber that too."

"And you told me that you'll make an effrot."

"I have a good memory," Peter quipped. In his opinion it wasn't really a big deal. Few sips could reduce endless anxiety level, a few bottles could make his legs went to jelly and give this excellent feeling like he was at home during perfomances.

"Looks like you're definetely not!" she threw in return angrily. Thanks to the empty backstage hall and loud banging music no one would hear them arguing.

The frontman could fight back, make excuses, explaining or shout at her but he was so tired of touring, performing, living on the road, giving interviews about his penis in 'Playgirl' magazine to stupid journalists, endless parties just all of that shit that he couldn't stand.

Peter stayed silent not wanting to say any word.

Of course the girl knew how he "liked" his job but there was something about it that the Brooklyn giant was sick of the most: live perfomances. Even there, at 'home' clubs she saw him panicking and stressing out, trying to dull feelings with alcohol before a show and then celebrating it with another portion of booze after.

One big vicious circle.

"Pete, I fucked up on TV!" Lizzie exclaimed wanting to comfort him even though that fact hurt her very much. "My performance on SNL was so bad that almost every fucking person in this country thinks that I can't sing! But it didn't start to drink again after that."

"Yes, I see that you're much stronger than me," he rolled his eyes turning a jackass mode one.

"I didn't mean that," Lizzie stared at her boyfriend coldly. "I just beg you to stop, because it will drag you to nowhere"

"Sounds not so bad," Peter smirked dramaticaly and she almost send him packing.

"You don't know any shit," the songstress chuckled bitterly. At that moment he reminded her a small boy who hadn't listened to anyone but in the end that boy admitted that he was wrong. And she knew that he would come to it himself but on his way he would receive many wounds and scars.

Lizzie was slowly passing around the stuffy small room with greyish-blue carpeting and stains of splashed wine on it, a worn out black couch, a smudged square mirror and a coat rack by the door. Peter was sitting on the couch, his hands were lazily clasped, elbows were on his knees. His gaze was focused on a plinth, the forgotten bottle stood next to the right leg.

When music subsided a little the girl began to speak again.

"I know that it's much easier and more understandable when you smash your face into a table. It immediately shows how things are going. But believe me, you don't want it."

Peter looked like he'd closed inside himself but he heard everything she'd been saying. The gothic bassist just didn't want to face it, not now. God, please, not now.

"I do this because I care about you. And the reason why I care about you is because I love you. I don't want to see you going through the same things that I went through," her lovely voice was tender that time, like she wanted to touch something deep inside him, to wake her loved one wake up. Unfortunately he didn't want to wake up.

When silence had become unbearable Lizzie sat down on the couch next to Peter whose look was distant. This was this type of silence when one of them understood that there was urge to tell something meaningful and that feeling was pressing on Elizabeth.

She had never actually told him about her past. Peter didn't want to push her and the girl considered that phase of her life was over. It was so long ago that seemed far, far away from her and current events.

But still, it was painful and nasty to tell about. And she had no way; the youngest child of Ratajczyk's was so stubborn.

"I stopped when I lost my parents' car somewhere and couldn't remember where, why and what happened then," admitted the melancholic songstress. The voice was steady but still there was a shameful tone. "And I'm afraid that you will stop when you lost your parents' house when you'll be officially of the rails,"

And then the frontman was all ears.

He was looking at her carefully, the right side of girl's face was hidden behind loose wavy red locks; they didn't look presentable like they had been a few hours ago. Even though Lizzie looked sad and tired after the performance, it was seen in features and slightly smudged mascara, Peter still saw her as the most attractive woman even with fake eyelashes peeling off.

"And the recovery wasn't all about rainbows and unicorns. And the first attempt wasn't successful and the last one. These things don't go smooth."

She stared at the deep scratch at the bottom of the door and continued half-heartedly.

"If you want to know more, I worked as a volunteer at drug and alcohol rehabilitation centres in Brooklyn. Before that I was in rehab myself, great times," Lizzie chuckled lowly and felt a strong desire to smoke right now but the room had already smelled like a mix of piss and smoke so the decision of hers was to not make it worse.

"I saw their desperate exhausted faces," memories of that poor lost people flashed n girl's mind but Peter couldn't understand that tragedy fully, he didn't see them. "They knew that we were ready to help them, but the only thing that was out of their reach was that everything starts with themselves."

Their lives were chaos but her own had been no good too.

"I know what is like to have an alcoholic boyfriend," Lizzie smirked and if Peter didn't know her he would have thought that she tried to make him jealous or feel guilty. "And I know what is like to be an alcoholic girlfriend to a sober guy, a complete mess both ways."

Although the man continued to stay silent at that moment his brain was absorbing the new information rapidly. Since the day one, when he first saw her on European stage in that white dress with Priscilla hair, the musician couldn't get rid of the impression deep inside in the corner of his mind that she was like a fog: weightless and illusory, without a story behind and big shocks. However she had everything. She had a family, parents and two siblings, childhood in Lake Placid, funny stories, adventures with her dad, arguments with mom, fears and failures.

She was like a real human being, just like him and any others he knew. But much sweeter and cheerful, and because of it Peter loved her with his whole heart.

And Lizzie thought that the man was like a Frankenstein. Not because there was something monstrous about him, which was absolutely not true, it was as if he was made and stitched of different pieces that at first sight couldn't fit.

"You're so weird..." the girl muttered with amused chuckle and a head shake.

"Oh, you stabbed me!" Peter sarcastically placed his hand on his heart. That were his first words in last fourteen minutes.

Lizzie still was feeling down but could help but chuckled quietly.

"You almost hate your musical career. But since sixteen years old you only do that create bands and play music..."

"You are the most fucking conflicted person that I know," she confessed honestly.

Peter decided not show that it struck him because everything that was coming out of her mouth was true. In her and others' eyes he looked like a masochist.

"You flatter me," the gothic singer brushed off with irony natural to him.

However, his so called "playful" mood was killed when the girl finally looked at him. And oh boy, Peter had never seen her so serious and overwhelmed at the same time and he almost regretted what he had said.

"Your self-conscious will catch you up one day, Pete," Lizzie stated not wanting to tip-toe with the whole topic. "It'll destroy from the core."

And then the man could no longer keep a deadpan expression. Certainly Elizabeth Woolridge Grant was a smart girl, she saw that painfully shy small boy in the big man's body, who ripped guitar strings barehanded onstage once. If a person could be brave (and tall) enough to look into his blue hazel eyes with green contacs, that Brooklyn giant had been buying on King's Highway, they would see vulnerability that contrasted his overall presence. Peter was so soft for her, he could do literally anything that she would ask for, but the only thing that he couldn't do was to not kill and poison himself with his own self doubts, venomous criticism and self-deprecating jokes.

"Small things inside of us can fuck up everything," her voice got quieter, raspier, and her pretty features expressed only tiredness.

Now Lizzie was observing Pete without any frustration. The frontman turned and looked away but his whole appearance showed noticable weaking of his positions.

"I don't know how to do this," he muttered quietly gazing at the bottle beside his leg. It seemed to him that he could smell the intoxicating smell of wine from that distance.

The small questinable ' hm?' came from the songstress and Peter tried to recollect his frantic thoughts.

"I hate parties, I've always hated parties and being in bunch of loud and annoying people," the man sounded almost exhausted and dark, with no jokes and sarcastic remarks. "I'm grateful to our fans but I feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders every time I go onstage because I need to do my job good. They pay money just to see us messing around with instruments. But what's more important that I chose to die with a bass guitar in my hand than with rake because I wanted to use my brain, not to say that I have any."

"I don't know how I've ended up here," he confessed heartedly and felt completely lost.

Lizzie saw something shattered in big green orbs, so she moved close to the man and gently brushed shiny long black strands away from his face. Her delicate moves, cold hands and long nails always caused goosebumps on his skin.

"Just start, it will get easier, you'll see," the girl briefly touched his temple.

Peter closed his eyes wearily but suddenly opened them again when he felt how she took his big palm into hers.

"And I'll be there with you, I promise," Lizzie almost whispered but the words were loud like a scream.

That made him look at her, then at their clasped hands and then at her again. The man sensed a warm feeling inside, it was much warmer than two liters of a red wine.

Without any words Peter tugged his melancholic vintage girlfriend closer, holding her in tight and sweet embrace and sniffing the rich scent of her perfume.

And he started.

Not immediately, but started.

The spring breeze blew thin creamy curatins with pale floral patterns. The sun was shining high in the sky, that May was warm and bright. The electric black clock showed 3 p.m with its neon green numbers which actually was the wrong shade of green.

They moved in only three weeks ago but thus far felt like that Brooklyn apartment had been their home, like they used to live here before. There was a big number of boxes around but all of the furniture was already assembled by the leader of Type O Negative and him only.

That was a big step and both of them knew it. But Peter, for the first time in his life, was ready to move in together with his woman of his dreams and newly there was enough trust and love to try and create something special. And Lana felt enough assurance to buy a property with her man for once and not to be tricked or cheated.

"Well, my boyfriend's in a band," Lizzie sang softly to herself while shuffling through the box full of her notepads when they had been resting in the living room. "He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed..."

Peter couldn't hide a smirk when he heard the line about musician-boyfriend. He tore his gaze away from a scientific book that he had bought last week and looked at her but Elizabeth was so focused on the task that she didn't notice a gentle stare.

"I've got feathers in my hair..." at the last word she did this raspy thing with her voice that he loved so much. "I get down to Beat poetry."

Peter caught himself thinking that it was a new song, because he probably didn't hear that before.

"And my jazz collection's rare," that time the songstress switched to a beautiful melodic falsetto. "I can play most anything."

At such moments she reminded him of that retro female singers or cartoons' princesses, it sounded so airy, so fantastically like in a fairytale or in the old musical TV perfomance.

"I'm a Brooklyn baby," Lizzie caught a wave and she could no longer be stopped. Her eyes were closed, small smile palyed on her full lips. The girl repeated. "I'm a Brooklyn baby..."

When the girl opened her eyes she saw a strong adoration on Peter's face, who was sitting across from her in the opposite armchair to hers.

"Come here," he said in his deep voice putting the book aside.

Lizzie fluttered from her seat easily and teasingly and with a playful smirk sat on his lap.

"So, you're Brooklyn baby now?" the musician asked with a pleased look. His mitts lovingly wandered over her bare legs in denim shorts that he liked so much. "Hm?"

"I think I've never stopped actually," Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders thinking back to the days when she used to serve in cafes in Long Island and giving first gigs. Although she added giddy and proudful. "And I will always be the coolest couch queen."

"You have to prove me that, darling," Peter flashed his fangs with a rolling "R" and quickly got up from the armchair with screaming Lizzie in his hands. Her loud laughter boomed around the room when her body hit a soft sofa and one of his cats ran away from there with annoyed 'meow!' not wanting to nap anymore with these two around.

He was biting her neck lightly and tickling girl's sides with long slender fingers while she was trying to kick that fucking big oaf off of her. After all, she gave up and took initiative upon herself, kissing him deep and slow just how he liked.

And Peter felt that familiar taste of a cherry lipbalm and Pepsi cola on his tongue. Just like he preferred.

Tried not to make it cheesy, hope turned kinda okay?

#peter steele #type o negative #lana del rey #peter steele x lana del rey #fanfiction #slight angst #i know that's weird but they have same vibe lol #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #the green man #Lana Del Rey fanfiction #originally posted on ao3 #Peter Steele smut #Lana Del Rey smut #goth music #Peter Steele fanfiction

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zukkaart · 1 year ago

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zukka + Lover album!!

I am SO excited for this one because it gave meeee

"Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince" !!! Let's get right down to it for the prompt game!

(Sorry these prompts are taking so long for me to get through school has been crazy)

**** long post ****

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Highschool AU, Zuko is captain of the volleyball team, Sokka is the head of the drama club

"So sad we paint the town blue, voted most likely to run away with you"

Sokka sang quietly to himself as he pressed the piano keys slowly. He was becoming increasingly more frustrated. He'd been stuck on this song he was writing for weeks now. He had the middle and the end but the beginning was eluding him in the most frustrating way.

The eighteen year old boy looked up at the clock hung crookedly against the far wall of the rehearsal room. Nearly five o'clock. His last class had ended hours ago. Sokka had loaded up his classes his junior year so now, as a senior he only had half days.

He usually stayed an hour or so to take advantage of the free instruments in the practice room, but today he was biding his time until the mens homecoming volleyball game. Usually he didn't bother with sports events -maybe a soccer game here and there- but that was mainly because he enjoyed being outside.

But today, his friend Yue had practically begged him to go with her because she was supposed to be meeting someone from another school on a date and she was nervous. He reluctantly agreed to her delight. In reality, he didn't mind. He liked volleyball but he liked the captain of the team much more. It's why he typically didn't go to those games.

That might not make sense to most people, but to Sokka it made perfect sense. The further away from Zuko he stayed, the less likely he was to make a fool of himself, and the more likely it would be that his crush would pass. Although, over the course of the last two years that hadn't seemed to work.

"Sokka! You ready to go?" Yue burst through the door of the practice room wearing her favorite purple mom jeans and blue crop top, her white hair in a flowing fishtail braid that hit her lower back.

"Yeah yeah I'm ready," He closed the lid of the piano and stood.| "How do I look?" She spun in a circle with her arms out. "Perfect as always," He gave her a quick kiss on her temple, "Let's go"

They won the game three sets to one.

The next morning Sokka was shoving his books into his locker when an almost unfamiliar voice came from behind him.

"Hey Sokka," He jumped and spun around, startled. To find Zuko standing close enough to lean over him slightly, smirking the same way he did on the court.

"Hey, uh- hey me?" Sokka pointed at his own chest dumbly, "Yeah, hey you. I saw you at my game last night." "Oh! Yeah," Sokka blushed, "Homecoming you know? I went to the soccer game after too,"

Zuko's brow furrowed slightly at that, but only for a moment.

"I see. Well, did you enjoy it at least?" "What part?" Sokka flirted, with more confidence than he felt, and immediately regretted it.

"Any of it. All of it." Zuko entertained him, seemingly amused by his question. "Well, you almost missed you serve in the first set." Sokka spoke before he could think.

But Zuko didn't look insulted at all. In fact, a small but honest smile broke out across his features.

"You were watching me that closely?" He asked, leaning in closer.

Sokka said nothing, just stared at him so long that Zuko had to break the awkwards silence himself.

"Well, I've got class, but maybe you can meet me later and tell me about more of my mistakes." He said it as a statement. Not a question. As if he already knew that Sokka would say yes.

"It wasn't a mistake really I didn't mean to-" "At six. The coffee shop around the corner." Zuko interrupted, and brought his thumb up to brush Sokka's jawline. Sokka regained his nerve then.

"No," Zuko's smile dropped "No? Why? Did I do something?"

Sokka scoffed. "Are you even aware of your own reputation?" To Zuko's credit, he looked genuinely confused.

"No not really, I don't listen to gossip. What do they say?" "They call you the heartbreak prince." Sokka clarified matter-of-factly.

The taller boy let out a short but genuine laugh and covered his mouth with one hand.

"Are you being serious?" "Unfortunately," "Unfortunately?" "Yes" "Why unfortunately?" "Because it means that anyone associated with you has nothing short of a storm coming their way," Sokka closed his locker and made to turn back towards his next class, but an arm shot out in front of him blocking the way.

"Oh come on, you know that's ridiculous. I'm just a guy," Zuko didn't drop his arm even as Sokka turned to face him again, holding his books tight to his chest.

"You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes Zuko." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means that you shouldn't start a fight you can't win,"

That easy smirk returned to the taller boys features

"Are you saying that there's someone I'll have to fight for you?" "No." Sokka said too quickly. "But I can't be the center of gossip," "Well that's my whole world. You know what they say about you?"

It was Sokka's turn to be shocked. He wasn't anyone. He composed his music and directed his plays in near anonymity. Sure he partied a lot, but it was usually because one of his friends insisted he come.

"They say you're a bad boy, that you're trouble, and that I shouldn't take a gamble on you."

Sokka's mouth dropped open slightly in shock.

"What? I've never done anything that could even remotely warrant that!" "Sokka, at Jet's party last week you basically imploded his entire clique," "He deserved it! They deserved to know the kind of person they were hanging out with," "Hey, I'm not disagreeing, but you also can't say you haven't earned it" "What about you then?" He poked Zuko in the chest sharply, "What makes you so perfect? You're on the cover of the school newspaper every week," "What can I say? They like a pageant smile, but I promise that being amazing at volleyball and smiling for a camera isn't all there is to me"

Sokka rolled his eyes at the arrogance, but couldn't help himself

"Prove it" "Let me. I'll pick you up at seven,"

"Fine. But if you're late I'm not opening the door." "Deal." A more genuine smile graced Zuko's features then. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Sokka's cheek. "See you then," And strode off in the opposite direction.

Sokka didn't bother going to his next class. He practically sprinted to the practice room

You know I adore you, I'm crazier for you Than I was at 16, lost in a film scene Waving homecoming queens, marching band playing I'm lost in the lights...

#avatar the last airbender #sokka #atla #sokka avatar the last airbender #zuko #zukka nation #zuko x sokka #zukka au #prompt #zukka fic #zukka one shot #asks #prompt game

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sofiamantegafan110 · 2 years ago

Text

NEW X-MEN SEASON 2 EPISODE 4

EPISODE 4- A WEB OF LIES

WE OPEN UP IN CESSILY AND SOFIA’S ROOM AS CESSILY AND ROXY SNUGGLE TOGETHER. ROXY ADMITS THAT SHE APPRECIATES THE TIME CESSILY PUTS IN TO SPENDING TIME WITH HER, AND CESSILY CHUCKLES, SAYING THAT SHE’S WORTH IT. THE TWO KISS BEFORE CESSILY SAYS THAT THEY SHOULD PROBABLY GET TO CHEERLEADING PRACTICE, AS SOFIA DOESN’T LIKE IT WHEN THEY’RE LATE. THE GIRLS START FOR THE DOOR, BUT WHEN THEY OPEN IT, THEY SEE ALANI STANDING OUTSIDE. SHE SEEMS A BIT SURPRISED THAT ROXY IS THERE AND ACTS FLUSTERED WHILE CESSILY ASSUMES THAT SHE’S THERE TO REMIND THEM OF PRACTICE. ALANI NODS NERVOUSLY WHILE ROXY TELLS HER THAT THEY ALREADY GOT THE MEMO AND WALKS OFF WITH CESSILY.

CESSILY TELLS ROXY THAT SHE WAS A BIT HARSH, BUT SHE SAYS THAT SHE DOESN’T REALLY TRUST ALANI. SOMETHING SEEMS OFF ABOUT HER. AS THEY WALK OFF, ALANI WATCHES THEM BEFORE EMMA FROST SENDS A TELEPATHIC MESSAGE TO HER, SAYING THAT SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE HAS TO DO.

CUE INTRO AND CREDITS

WE TRANSITION OVER TO LAURIE AS SHE EXITS A CLASSROOM. ALL OF A SUDDEN, A BLACK-GLOVED HAND GRABS HER SHOULDER AND SHE WHIRLS AROUND TO SEE KEVIN STANDING BEHIND HER. SHE IMMEDIATELY ASKS HIM WHAT THE HELL HE’S DOING AND KEVIN SAYS THAT HE NEEDS TO TELL HER SOMETHING. LAURIE SIGHS AND ASKS HIM WHAT HIS PROBLEM IS; HE GHOSTS HER FOR ABOUT FOUR MONTHS IN FAVOR OF HIS NEW SQUAD BUDDIES AND NOW HE SUDDENLY WANTS TO TALK TO HER AND EXPECT TO PICK UP WHERE THEY LEFT OFF. KEVIN SIGHS AND BEGINS TO SPEAK.

KEVIN: LOOK, LAURIE, I WANT YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM JOSH. I KNOW THAT THERE’S SOMETHING UP WITH HIM AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET HURT. HE’S BAD NEWS, LAURIE.

LAURIE STARES AT HIM, GOBSMACKED.

LAURIE: OH, I GET IT.

KEVIN: YOU DO?

LAURIE: YOU’RE JEALOUS. YOU ABANDON ME FOR THE COOL KIDS AND NOW THAT I HAVE FRIENDS OUTSIDE OF YOU, AND A BOYFRIEND WHO LOVES ME, YOU WANT TO DO WHATEVER YOU CAN TO BRING THAT DOWN. THAT’S REALLY SELF-CENTERED, YOU KNOW? I WANNA BE HAPPY, KEVIN. I’VE CHANGED. I’M NOT THE SAME SHY WALLFLOWER WHO WOULD TALK WITH YOU ABOUT SHAWN MENDES ALBUMS IN THE LIBRARY. I’M HAPPY, KEV. SO PLEASE, IF YOU CAN’T ACCEPT THAT, I NEED YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE.

WITH THAT, LAURIE WALKS OFF AND KEVIN WATCHES HER, DETERMINATION IN HIS EYES.

MEANWHILE, SOFIA LEADS THE CHEERLEADERS IN THEIR CHOREOGRAPHED DANCE TO ‘THEY DON’T KNOW’ BY ARIANA GRANDE. AS THE SONG ENDS, SOFIA CONGRATULATES THEM ON THE NEW ROUTINE AND DECIDES TO GIVE A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THEIR NEW MEMBERS; MIRROR GIRL, ALCHEMIST, AND THE STEPFORD SISTERS. AS THEY APPLAUD, MONET COMPLIMENTS SOFIA ON THE NEW ROUTINE, BUT SOFIA SAYS THAT CESSILY CAME UP WITH MOST OF THE CHOREOGRAPHY. THE GIRLS APPLAUD AGAIN AND CESSILY SMILES WHILE ROXY PROUDLY ANNOUNCES THAT SHE’S HER GIRLFRIEND. ALANI SHIFTS UNCOMFORTABLY AT THAT, WHICH MEGAN OBSERVES. SOFIA THEN TELLS THEM ALL THAT THEY CAN LEAVE AND THEY ALL START TO EXIT THE GYM.

AS MEGAN LEAVES, ALANI SAYS THAT SHE NEEDS HER HELP. WHEN MEGAN ASKS HER WHAT SHE NEEDS HELP WITH, ALANI SAYS THAT SHE WAS THINKING OF PUTTING TOGETHER A BRUNCH AND SHE WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF MEGAN COULD ASK CESSILY IF SHE WANTS TO GO. MEGAN NODS, A BIT SUSPICIOUS, AS MONET LOOKS AT ALANI IN INTRIGUE, AND SHE ULTIMATELY AGREES TO TALK TO CESSILY.

AS MEGAN FLIES OVER TO CESSILY, MONET GRABS ALANI BY THE SHOULDER AND ASKS HER IF SHE’S LOST HER MIND. ALANI INNOCENTLY ASKS HER WHAT SHE MEANS, BUT MONET TELLS HER THAT SHE’S A TELEPATH AND SHE KNOWS WHAT EMMA SUGGESTED. ALANI TELLS MONET THAT SHE KNOWS, WHICH IS WHY SHE WANTS HER TO DO THE PROCEDURE, WHICH MONET IS HORRIFIED AT.

MONET: ALANI, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. THAT PROCEDURE IS DANGEROUS. YOU SHOULDN’T LET YOUR FEELINGS FOR CESSILY COME BEFORE YOUR COMMON SENSE.

ALANI: YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE THE ADVICE THAT MS. FROST GAVE YOU FAILED AND NOW JULIAN’S WITH THAT GOTH WOLVERINE.

MONET: GOD, ALANI. THE WORLD ISN’T ALL BLACK AND WHITE. I’VE MOVED ON FROM JULIAN. AND YOU SHOULD MOVE ON TOO. CESSILY IS HAPPY WHERE SHE IS, AND THIS PROCEDURE COULD RUIN YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH HER. IT’S BETTER TO ACCEPT CESSILY THE WAY SHE IS RIGHT NOW.

ALANI: MONET, PLEASE JUST DO THE PROCEDURE. I REALLY WANT THIS, AND I NEED A TELEPATH TO DO IT. IF YOU WERE REALLY MY FRIEND, YOU’D DO IT.

MONET SIGHS, AND THEN TELLS ALANI THAT SHE KNOWS WHEN HER MIND’S MADE UP AND SHE’LL DO THE PROCEDURE IF ONLY TO BE A GOOD FRIEND, BUT ALANI HAS NO IDEA WHAT SHE’S DOING. ALANI BEAMS AND TELLS MONET THAT THEY’LL MEET AT THE GRIND STONE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE WALKING OFF TO MEET MEGAN AND CESSILY. MONET THEN WALKS UP TO SOFIA AND TELLS HER THAT SHE NEEDS HELP.

SOFIA: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

MONET: I THINK… I THINK ALANI’S ABOUT TO DO SOMETHING AWFUL. AND I JUST AGREED TO HELP HER.

LATER, CLARICE WALKS ALONG THE HALLWAYS OF XAVIER’S BEFORE RECEIVING A TEXT FROM SOFIA, SAYING THAT SHE’S A BIT BUSY WITH SOMETHING AT THE MOMENT, BUT THERE WILL BE PLENTY OF TIME FOR THEIR DATE LATER. CLARICE TEXTS BACK BEFORE ENTERING A CLASSROOM AND MEETING UP WITH TWO MORE STUDENTS. ONE IS A BLUE-SKINNED, POINTY-EARED GIRL WITH THREE FINGERS AND TOES, AND THE OTHER ONE IS A BALD, PALE-SKINNED BOY IN SHORTS AND A HAWAIIAN T-SHIRT THAT READS ‘PARTY NAKED’ ON IT. CLARICE EXCITEDLY GREETS TALIA JOSEPHINE WAGNER AND KEVIN SYDNEY, ALSO KNOWN AS NOCTURNE AND MORPH, WHO BOMBARD HER WITH HUGS.

TJ JOKINGLY SAYS THAT SHE’S GLAD CLARICE COULD TAKE SOME TIME OFF FROM HANGING OUT WITH HER NEW MUTANT BUDDIES WHILE MORPH APPLAUDS CLARICE FOR NOT ONLY SHOWING UP TO COMIC CLUB ON TIME BUT ALSO BEING ABLE TO HIT SOME SEXY LATINA TAIL. TJ WHACKS HIM ON THE ARM WHILE MORPH COMMENTS ON CLARICE’S OBVIOUS SEX HAIR, SAYING THAT SHE’S CLEARLY NOT USED HER BED FOR MUCH SLEEPING, IF SHE WAS EVEN IN HER BED. CLARICE REMINDS MORPH THAT HER SEX LIFE IS NONE OF HIS BUSINESS, BUT MORPH SAYS THAT HE CAN’T HELP IT. AS HE SPEAKS, HE MORPHS INTO A CHALK-WHITE VERSION OF SOFIA WITH PORN-STAR LEVEL LIPS AND BOOBS BEFORE CLARICE GRABS HIM BY THE NECK, MAKING HIM INFLATE LIKE A BALLOON.

TJ GIGGLES BEFORE ASKING WHERE BEAK AND ANGEL ARE. THIS IS THE SECOND TIME THEY’VE FLAKED AND THEY CAN’T MAKE COMIC CLUB OFFICIAL AND GAIN NEW MEMBERS IF THE OG MEMBERS DON’T KNOW THE VALUES OF PUNCTUALITY. MORPH THEN SAYS THAT HE HASN’T SEEN THEM IN CLASS FOR A WHILE, AND CLARICE WONDERS WHERE THEY ARE. SHE KNOWS HOW EXCITED THEY WERE TO TALK ABOUT MARIA LLOVET AND HOW HER ART REVOLUTIONIZED THE AMOUNT OF SEXUALITY IN COMICS.

SUDDENLY, THE DOOR FLIES OPEN AND BEAK ENTERS, WRINGING HIS HANDS WITH WORRY. HE PACES AROUND THE ROOM RAMBLING SOMETHING THAT SOUNDS LIKE A MIX OF ENGLISH AND SQUAWKING. CLARICE TELLS HIM TO CALM DOWN AND TJ ASKS WHAT’S WRONG. BEAK TELLS THEM THAT HE REALLY MESSED UP AND HE NEEDS THEIR HELP, AND MORPH ASKS WHAT’S MORE IMPORTANT THAN COMIC CLUB.

BEAK: OH GOD… OH GOD… I’M SO SORRY, GUYS. I DIDN’T KNOW… I SWEAR I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT I DID WHEN I DID IT AND NOW… OH MY GOD… AND NOW ANGEL IS PREGNANT WITH MONSTER BABIES!

THE TRIO LOOK AT HIM IN SHOCK WITH MORPH MIMICKING THE EXPRESSION OF A SHOCKED CARTOON CHARACTER AS BEAK STARTS SQUAWKING AGAIN.

MEANWHILE, MONET, SOFIA, CESSILY, ALANI, AND MEGAN HEAD OVER TO A LOCAL COFFEE SHOP AS CESSILY THANKS ALANI FOR PUTTING THIS BRUNCH TOGETHER. THEY THEN OPEN THE DOOR AND SIT DOWN AT A BOOTH AS SURGE GREETS THEM, DRESSED IN AN APRON.

NORI: WELL I’LL BE DAMNED. MONET ST. CROIX DARES TO ENTER AN ESTABLISHMENT THAT SHE PREVIOUSLY REFERRED TO AS A ‘GHETTO STARBUCKS’.

MONET: HEY ASHIDA. LONG TIME, NEVER SPEAK.

NORI CHUCKLES BEFORE MEGAN COMMENTS THAT SHE DIDN’T KNOW SHE WORKED AT THE GRIND STONE. NORI SAYS THAT SHE’S JUST LOOKING TO MAKE A QUICK BUCK, BEFORE TAKING THEIR ORDER. SOFIA EXCITEDLY GREETS NORI BEFORE TELLING MONET THAT A LOT OF STUDENTS GO HERE BEFORE AND AFTER SCHOOL. SHE THEN POINTS OVER TO WHERE DAVID, CAM, AURA, JAY, SOORAYA, LIN, AND LAURIE ARE SITTING AT A BOOTH AND WAVES AT THEM. AFTER TAKING THEIR ORDER, NORI SPEEDS OFF TO THE KITCHEN WHILE CESSILY AND SOFIA WAVE GOODBYE.

MEGAN: JUST OUT OF CURIOSITY, ALANI, WHY DID YOU PUT THIS BRUNCH TOGETHER?

ALANI: OH, UH… I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUN TO JUST HANG OUT WITH MY FRIENDS, ENJOY A LITTLE DOWNTIME, Y’KNOW?

MONET: I BET YOU DID.

SOFIA LOOKS OVER AT MONET BEFORE TURNING TO ALANI, A BIT WORRIED.

MEANWHILE, JOSH CHANGES FOR FOOTBALL PRACTICE BEFORE WALKING OUT WITH BRIAN. AS THEY LEAVE THE LOCKER ROOM, KEVIN SNEAKS IN BEFORE LOOKING AROUND THE LOCKERS. HE THEN NOTICES A KEYCHAIN POKING OUT OF ONE LOCKER AND HE TOUCHES THE LOCK WITH HIS BARE HAND, WITHERING IT. HE THEN PULLS OUT JOSH’S DUFFEL BAG AND RIFLES THROUGH HIS STUFF BEFORE PULLING OUT HIS PHONE. HE THEN LOOKS THROUGH JOSH’S CALL HISTORY BEFORE TAPPING ON A MESSAGE FROM AN UNKNOWN CONTACT, WHICH HE PLAYS.

MESSAGE: JOSH, IT’S RAHNE. RAHNE SINCLAIR. LOOK, I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE. I LIKE YOU. YOU’RE A GREAT GUY, BUT THIS IS WRONG. YOU’RE A STUDENT AND I’M A TEACHER. WE NEED TO STAY PROFESSIONAL. SO I’M SORRY, BUT WE CAN’T SEE EACH OTHER ANYMORE. DON’T CALL OR TEXT ME AND DELETE MY NUMBER FROM YOUR CONTACTS. IT’S OVER. I’M SORRY.

KEVIN PLAYS THE MESSAGE AGAIN AS HIS EYES NARROW.

MEANWHILE, CLARICE TELLS BEAK THAT SHE’S GONNA GO OVER THIS ONE MORE TIME; ANGEL ACCEPTED A BET TO KISS HIM BUT KNEW HOW SAD HE WAS, SO SHE HAD SEX WITH HIM TO MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER, AND NOW SHE’S PREGNANT ALREADY WITHIN THE SPAN OF FIVE DAYS AND HE THINKS FROST AND CYCLOPS WOULD KICK THEM BOTH OUT IF THEY FOUND OUT. BEAK STARTS TO SOB AS CLARICE SPEAKS AND SAYS THAT HE DIDN’T KNOW THAT IT TOOK FIVE DAYS BETWEEN THE SEX AND THE BIRTH FOR A FLY’S PHYSIOLOGY.

MORPH: HEY, ON THE BRIGHT SIDE, NOW YOU KNOW WHAT A FLY’S VAGINA LOOKS LIKE!

BEAK STARTS SOB-SQUAWKING AGAIN AS TJ ASKS HIM IF ANGEL IS STILL PREGNANT THEN. BEAK TELLS HER THAT ANGEL HAS ALREADY STARTED LAYING EGGS AND HE COMMENTS THAT THEY’RE LIKE MONSTERS HANGING IN BAGS MADE OF SKIN AND IT’S ALL HIS FAULT. CLARICE SIGHS AND PUTS A HAND ON HIS SHOULDER.

CLARICE: BARNELL, LOOK, THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT, NOR IS IT ANGEL’S. PEOPLE MAKE MISTAKES, AND THEY ARE NOT TO BLAME FOR THEM. BESIDES, DANI SAYS THAT YOU’RE AN AMAZING STUDENT. SHE’D NEVER AGREE TO KICK YOU OUT.

MORPH: BESIDES, CLARICE HERE WOULD KNOW A LOT ABOUT ACCIDENTAL, AND SOMETIMES INTENTIONAL, SEX.

WHILE TJ ELBOWS MORPH IN THE GUT, BEAK ASKS WHAT HE SHOULD DO NOW. TJ THEN TELLS HIM THAT THE NEXT MOVE IS SIMPLE; THEY NEED TO KNOW WHERE THE EGGS ARE.

MEANWHILE, CESSILY AND ALANI EXIT THE COFFEE SHOP, LAUGHING. CESSILY THEN TELLS ALANI THAT SHE’S REALLY GLAD SHE PUT THE BRUNCH TOGETHER AND ALANI THANKS HER. CESSILY SAYS THAT SHE’S BEEN WANTING TO HANG OUT WITH ALANI FOR A WHILE, BECAUSE SHE LOOKS LIKE A REALLY FUN PERSON, AND ALANI SMILES IN RESPONSE.

CESSILY REACHES FORWARD TO TOUCH ALANI’S HAND, BUT HER HAND PHASES THROUGH IT, GETTING SHREDDED IN THE PROCESS. AS CESSILY’S HAND FALLS TO THE GROUND, ALANI APOLOGIZES, BUT CESSILY LAUGHS AND SAYS THAT SHE WAS LOOKING TO LOSE A FEW POUNDS ANYWAY. ALANI LAUGHS NERVOUSLY AS CESSILY REABSORBS HER HAND, AND SHE COMMENTS THAT HER POWERS ALWAYS TEND TO GET OUT OF CONTROL WHEN SHE GETS EXCITED. CESSILY SYMPATHIZES WITH ALANI’S INABILITY TO ACT UPON HER FEELINGS, AND SAYS THAT SHE WISHES SHE COULD DO SOMETHING TO HELP.

AS MONET, MEGAN, AND SOFIA EXIT, ALANI TELLS CESSILY THAT SHE’S ACTUALLY HEARD OF A TELEPATHIC PROCEDURE THAT CAN ASSIST IN JUST THIS OCCASION. THE CATCH IS THAT IT NEEDS TWO PEOPLE IN ORDER TO WORK. CESSILY LOOKS OVER AT MONET BEFORE ASKING IF IT’S BASICALLY PSYCHIC SEX. ALANI SHRUGS AND CESSILY LOOKS A BIT NERVOUS, BUT SHE ULTIMATELY ACCEPTS. ANYTHING TO HELP OUT A FRIEND. SOFIA LOOKS OVER AT MONET, WHO SIGHS AND SAYS THAT SHE’LL PERFORM THE PROCEDURE IF THEY BOTH INSIST ON IT, BUT WARNS THEM THAT IT CAN BE… A LOT TO HANDLE. ALANI AND CESSILY NOD AND THE QUINTET GATHER UNDERNEATH A LARGE OAK TREE.

UNDER MONET’S INSTRUCTIONS, CESSILY AND ALANI LIE DOWN ON THEIR BACKS AND CLOSE THEIR EYES. MONET THEN SITS BESIDE THEM AND SAYS THAT THEY SHOULD RELAX THEIR MINDS AND HOLD HANDS. ALANI TIMIDLY REACHES FOR CESSILY’S HAND AND SURPRISINGLY, IS ABLE TO HOLD IT WITHOUT DISASTER. MONET INSTRUCTS MEGAN AND SOFIA TO WATCH THEM BEFORE ASKING AGAIN IF THEY’RE OKAY WITH THIS. ALANI AND CESSILY AGREE AND MONET CLOSES HER EYES. A BLUE LIGHT THEN EMERGES FROM MONET’S HEAD BEFORE REACHING ALANI AND CESSILY’S HEADS WHILE MEGAN AND SOFIA LOOK ON, THE FORMER SEEMING EXCITED WHILE THE LATTER IS MORE WORRIED. MEGAN THEN ASKS WHAT THEY’RE SEEING IN THERE.

WE THEN CUT OVER TO THE ASTRAL PLANE, WHERE ALANI AND CESSILY ARE ENTANGLED IN A PSYCHEDELIC RAPTURE. THEY’RE SURROUNDED BY COLORS AND LIGHT WITH THEIR BODIES TURNING IMMATERIAL AND BATHED IN WARMTH. MONET SAYS THAT THEIR RESPECTIVE SUBCONSCIOUSNESSES ARE BLURRING TOGETHER. NO BORDERS, NO BOUNDARIES, EVERYTHING IS SHARED. EVERY HOPE AND DREAM. EVERY FANTASY. EVERY PLEASURE. EVERY CRY FOR DELIGHT. EVERY SECRET. ALTHOUGH, AS CESSILY AND ALANI’S FORMS ARE ENTWINED TOGETHER, CESSILY LOOKS MORE SAD THEN EUPHORIC.

HOWEVER, AS THEY CONTINUE TO BE ENTANGLED TOGETHER, A DARK RED SPOT EMERGES IN THE ASTRAL. IT SLOWLY STARTS TO GET BIGGER AND BIGGER AND SLOWLY OVERTAKES THE PSYCHEDELIC RAINBOW BEFORE OVERTAKING CESSILY AND ALANI. IN THE REAL WORLD, BOTH GIRLS THRASH AND CRY OUT AS IF THEY’RE HAVING A NIGHTMARE, AND SOFIA ASKS WHAT’S WRONG. MONET SAYS THAT SHE WAS WORRIED ABOUT THIS. THEY’RE SHARING TOO MUCH. AND THEIR UGLIEST SECRETS ARE STARTING TO TAKE CONTROL. IF THIS KEEPS UP, THERE WON’T BE ANY OF CESSILY AND ALANI’S PSYCHE LEFT.

SOFIA THEN SAYS THAT SHE’S GOING IN, AND MONET WARNS HER THAT IT’S TOO DANGEROUS. IF SHE GOES IN, SHE RUNS THE RISK OF FRYING HER MIND. SOFIA SHRUGS THIS OFF, SAYING THAT CESSILY IS HER BEST FRIEND. SHE’D DO THE SAME FOR HER. MONET THEN TELLS MEGAN THAT IF ANYTHING GOES WRONG, SHE SHOULD GO FOR HELP, AND MEGAN NODS, NERVOUSLY. WITH THAT, SOFIA LIES DOWN AND CLASPS CESSILY’S HAND WHILE MONET TOUCHES THE TWO GIRLS’ FOREHEADS.

WHEN MONET AND SOFIA APPEAR IN THE ASTRAL PLANE, THE AREA IS COMPLETELY RED, MADE UP OF CESSILY AND ALANI’S TWISTED PSYCHE. A FEW MILES AWAY, AN ORB LIES, MADE UP OF CESSILY AND ALANI’S WRITHING AND SCREAMING FORMS. SOFIA IS THEN BOMBARDED WITH CESSILY AND ALANI’S VOICES AND CRIES OUT BUT MONET TELLS HER TO FOCUS. IF SHE SUCCUMBS TO THE DARKNESS, HER BODY WILL SUFFER PERMANENT DAMAGE. SOFIA NODS AND MONET SAYS THAT ALL THEY NEED TO DO IS GET TO THE ORB AND TOUCH IT, AND EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. SOFIA SIGHS BEFORE TELLING MONET THAT SHE’S READY. AS THE GIRLS FLY TOWARDS THE ORB, CESSILY AND ALANI’S VOICES SPEAK, OVERLAPPING EACH OTHER, AS THEIR DARK SECRETS ARE EXPOSED.

CESSILY: --WHEN I WAS 4, I BURNED A LITTLE FROG WITH A MAGNIFYING GLASS. I KNEW I SHOULD FEEL GUILTY, BUT I ACTUALLY KINDA ENJ--

ALANI: --BARELY KNOW YOU, BUT I GET THIS VIBE LIKE WE CAN BE REALLY HAPPY IF WE JUST DIVE RIGHT IN AND—

CESSILY: --AFTER MOM CALLED ME A FREAK, I SPENT HOURS FANTASIZING ABOUT TURNING TO LIQUID AND JUST… JUST FILLING UP HER MOUTH AND HER NOSTRILS AND HER LUNGS AND—

ALANI: --SO I WAS THINKING FIVE KIDS, THREE GIRLS AND TWO BOYS, MAYBE WE ADOPT A COUPLE MORE, AND—

ALANI AND CESSILY’S THOUGHT REACH SOFIA, CAUSING HER TO SLOWLY BLEED FROM HER NOSE AND EYES. MONET NOTICES THIS, HER NOSE STARTING TO BLEED AS WELL, AND ASKS SOFIA IF SHE’S OKAY. SOFIA TELLS HER THAT SHE’S FINE AND INSISTS THAT THEY KEEP GOING, AS THEY’RE ALMOST TO THE ORB.

CESSILY: --SOMETIMES DREAM ABOUT CUTTING AND CUTTING--

ALANI: --I SWIM IN THE OCEAN AND IT’S… IT’S JUST CALLING… LIKE I JUST WANT TO DISSOLVE INTO THE ENDLESS BLACK AND NOT FEEL ANYTHING—

CESSILY: YOU MOTHERFUCKING MEAT PEOPLE WITH YOUR WARM BLOOD AND BEAUTIFUL SENSES… YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LUCKY YOU ARE—

ALANI: --I DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO DO THIS BUT MS. FROST INSISTED THAT IT WAS FINE AND THAT IT WOULDN’T HURT AT ALL, BUT THIS HURTS SO MUCH AND I JUST NEED—

SOFIA CRIES OUT IN PAIN AS BLOOD POURS FROM HER EYES, NOSE, EARS, AND MOUTH. MONET LOOKS AT HER AND SAYS THAT SHE NEEDS TO GET OUT NOW. THE DAMAGE TO HER BRAIN COULD BE TOO SEVERE IF SHE CONTINUES. SOFIA REFUSES TO LEAVE MONET ALONE, NOTICING THAT SHE’S BLEEDING TOO, BUT MONET INSISTS.

MONET: SOFIA, I KNOW I HAVEN’T BEEN THE BEST FRIEND TO YOU. YOU’RE SWEET AND PRETTY AND I JUST FUCK EVERYTHING UP. IF IT CAME BETWEEN THE TWO OF US, THEY WOULD NEED YOU MORE THAN ME. IF I DON’T MAKE IT OUT, TELL CESSILY, TELL ALANI, TELL EVERYONE THAT… I’M SO SORRY.

SOFIA CRIES OUT TO MONET, WHO CLOSES HER EYES AND EJECTS HER FROM THE ASTRAL. SOFIA WAKES UP IN THE REAL WORLD, WIPING BLOOD AND TEARS FROM HER EYES AND SHE LOOKS AROUND, NOTICING THAT MEGAN ISN’T THERE. SHE LOOKS OVER AT MONET’S UNCONSCIOUS FORM AND STARTS TO PRAY.

MEANWHILE, CLARICE, BEAK, MORPH, AND TJ WALK THROUGH THE WOODS AS CLARICE ASKS BEAK IF HE’S SURE THAT THE EGGS ARE HERE. BEAK NODS, SAYING THAT THEY FOUND AN OLD SHACK HERE THAT THEY THOUGHT WOULD BE GREAT TO HIDE THE EGGS. TJ NOTICES THE SHACK AND APPROACHES IT, NERVOUSLY. AS SHE TRIES TO OPEN THE DOOR, SHE FINDS OUT THAT IT’S LOCKED AND TELLS THE OTHERS TO STAND BACK. THEY DO SO AND TJ FORMS A BLUE BOLT IN HER HANDS, WHICH SHE USES TO BLAST DOWN THE DOOR. MORPH THEN TURNS INTO A PALE-SKINNED POLICE OFFICER AND DEMANDS THAT WHOEVER’S INSIDE SHOULD PUT THEIR HANDS UP, BUT A FEMALE VOICE YELLS NOT TO SHOOT.

INSIDE THE SHACK, ANGEL SITS CROSS-LEGGED AND SMILING AMONGST MILLIONS OF SMALL FLYING CHILDREN. THEY ALL HAVE ANGEL’S WINGS AND SOME OF BEAK’S FEATURES WITH MOST HAVE HIS FACIAL FEATURES. THE QUARTET’S EXPRESSIONS LIGHTEN AS ANGEL CONTINUES TO BEAM AT THEM, HAPPILY.

ANGEL: THE BAGS BURST, BUT IT’S OKAY NOW. CHECK ‘EM OUT!

MEANWHILE, MONET CONTINUES TO FLY TOWARD THE TWISTED ORB, BOMBARDED WITH SECRETS AND FANTASIES. BLOOD CONTINUES TO POUR FROM HER ORIFICES AS SHE KICKS HER LEGS AND REACHES HER HAND OUT TO TOUCH THE ORB. HER MOUTH OPENS WIDE IN A SCREAM BUT BLOOD POURS OUT INSTEAD. THE MOMENT HER FINGERTIP TOUCHES THE ORB, IT EXPLODES INTO A BRIGHT LIGHT AND MONET FINDS HERSELF BACK IN THE REAL WORLD, WITH CESSILY AND ALANI WAKING UP BEFORE STARING AT EACH OTHER, SHOCKED.

ALANI: Y-Y-YOU’RE SICK! YOU’RE TWISTED ON THE INSIDE!

CESSILY: I’M SICK?! YOU LIED TO ME! Y-YOU TOOK MY FEELINGS ABOUT YOU AS A FRIEND AND YOU FUCKING VIOLATED IT! YOU MANIPULATED ME! PLAYED WITH MY FEELINGS! YOU RAPED MY MIND BECAUSE YOU KNEW I WOULD WANT TO HELP YOU BECAUSE I WANT TO BE A GOOD FRIEND AND YOU DIDN’T CARE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN! AND NOW YOU WANNA PLAY THE VICTIM BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU SAW IN MY HEAD?! WELL GUESS WHAT?! MY HEAD IS FUCKED UP! FUCKING DEAL WITH IT!

ALANI: F-FUCK YOU! YOU’RE EVIL! YOU’RE A MONSTER! YOU’RE INSA-

CESSILY: NO, YOU’RE THE INSANE ONE! YOU’RE A LYING SLUT AND A BITCH! Y-YOU LIED TO ME AND BETRAYED MY FUCKING TRUST! YOU’RE A BAD FRIEND AND A TERRIBLE PERSON! I HATE YOU, ALANI! YOU’RE A SNAKE! A LYING, SELFISH, MANIPULATIVE SNAKE!

WITH THAT, CESSILY RUNS AWAY IN TEARS WITH ALANI STORMING OFF IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. SOFIA IMMEDIATELY RUNS AFTER CESSILY AND MONET WAITS FOR A WHILE BEFORE MAKING UP HER MIND AND RUNNING AFTER HER TEAMMATE.

MEANWHILE, MORPH AND TJ PLAY WITH THE BABIES WHILE BEAK COMMENTS THAT IN HIS DREAMS, HE WOULD SEE AN ARMY OF MONSTERS SHOUTING ‘FATHER!’ BUT THIS IS JUST WONDERFUL. ANGEL LAUGHS AND SAYS THAT SHE’S GONNA NAME THEM AFTER THE JACKSON FAMILY BEFORE SAYING THAT ONE LITTLE FREAK LOOKS ABOUT AS CUTE AND USELESS AS BEAK, WHO COMMENTS ON THE WINGSPAN OF ANOTHER LITTLE GUY.

CLARICE KNEELS DOWN AND REACHES OUT TO THE CHILD IN ANGEL’S LAP BEFORE TELLING THEM THAT THEY SHOULD’VE BEEN HONEST FROM THE BEGINNING. ANGEL SAYS THAT SHE WAS WORRIED THAT THEY’D GET KICKED OUT, SINCE THERE’S NEVER BEEN A STUDENT AT XAVIER’S WHO’S GOTTEN PREGNANT. CLARICE AGREES, BUT SAYS THAT SINCE IT’S NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE, THEY SHOULD AGREE TO HELP IF A SITUATION LIKE THIS EVER ARISES AGAIN. SHE AGREES TO TALK TO DANI TO SEE IF THEY CAN LIVE HERE AND MAYBE THEY COULD SKIP SOME CLASSES TO TAKE CARE OF THE CHILDREN. MORPH THEN SAYS THAT THEY SHOULD DO THE SAME IF BEAK AND ANGEL ARE TOO BUSY, AND PLUS, “UNCLE MORPHIE” NEEDS TO BE THERE FOR THE KIDS. TJ ALSO VOLUNTEERS TO HELP SPIFF THE PLACE UP AND MAKE IT MORE FAMILY-FRIENDLY AND CLARICE COMES UP WITH THE IDEA OF SIGNING THEM UP FOR THE LOWER SCHOOL SO THAT XUAN CAN HELP WHILE BEAK AND ANGEL ARE AT SCHOOL.

ANGEL AND BEAK THANK THEM FOR THEIR HELP AND CLARICE ASKS IF THEY’RE GOING TO STAY TOGETHER. THEY BOTH SMILE AND SAY THAT THEY HATED XAVIER’S AT FIRST, BUT THERE IS ONE THING THAT THEY LOVE ABOUT IT, AND IT’S THAT THEY WERE ABLE TO FIND EACH OTHER.

MEANWHILE, SOFIA SEARCHES FOR CESSILY, EVENTUALLY FINDING HER CRYING. AS SHE ASKS CESSILY IF SHE’S OKAY, CESSILY TELLS HER THAT SHE’S NOT OKAY. SHE’S NEVER BEEN OKAY. SHE FEELS LIKE A MONSTER AND KNOWS THAT EVERYONE WILL REJECT HER ONCE ALANI TELLS. EVEN ROXY WILL LOOK AT HER LIKE A FREAK AMONG FREAKS.

SOFIA: CESSILY, I UNDERSTAND HOW YOU FEEL—

CESSILY: NO YOU DON’T! HOW COULD YOU OF ALL PEOPLE KNOW HOW I FEEL?! YOU’RE THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN SCHOOL! YOU’RE POPULAR, YOU HAVE FAMILY WHO LOVES YOU! YOU COULD NEVER KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO WAKE UP ONE MORNING A FREAK! MY PARENTS LOVED ME! I WAS EVERYTHING TO THEM! AND THEN WHEN I GOT MY POWERS, THEY DIDN’T SEE ME AS THEIR PRECIOUS GIRL ANYMORE! THEY JUST SAW ME AS A FREAK! YOU SHOULD SEE HOW QUICKLY THEY SENT ME TO XAVIER’S WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT! I… NO ONE LOVES ME! NO ONE EVER WILL!

SOFIA STARTS TO CRY AND PUTS A HAND ON CESSILY’S SHOULDER.

SOFIA: CESSILY, LOOK AT ME. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND YOU ARE LOVED. ROXY LOVES YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD, AND I KNOW YOU’D NEVER CHASE ME OR HER OR ANYONE AWAY. I KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE REJECTED AND I KNOW THAT IT MAY MAKE YOU AFRAID TO TRY TO FORM A MEANINGFUL CONNECTION, BUT I’M HERE FOR YOU. I WILL ALWAYS BE. YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND, CESSILY. AND I LOVE YOU. WARTS AND ALL.

CESSILY COLLAPSES INTO SOFIA’S ARMS, CRYING AND SOFIA HUGS HER. AFTER A WHILE, CESSILY WIPES AWAY TEARS AND SNOT AND THANKS SOFIA FOR HELPING HER. SOFIA THEN ASKS IF SHE’S READY TO GO AND CESSILY NODS, STANDING UP WITH SOFIA’S HELP.

MEANWHILE, MONET FINDS ALANI BESIDE THE COFFEE SHOP. ALANI SWIPES AWAY TEARS AND TELLS MONET THAT CESSILY’S RIGHT. SHE’S A LIAR AND A SNAKE. SHE REFLECTS ON HOW SHE BETRAYED CESSILY’S TRUST AND VIOLATED HER MIND. SHE KNOWS THAT SHE HAD NO RIGHT TO INTRUDE UPON CESSILY’S SECRETS AND SHE SHOULD’VE BEEN HAPPY TO HAVE HER AS A FRIEND. AS MONET SITS DOWN, ALANI TAKES OUT A VAPE PEN AND PLACES IT TO HER LIPS, BLOWING A STREAM OF SMOKE FROM THEM AS SHE ASKS MONET IF SHE THINKS SHE’S A BAD FRIEND.

MONET: ALANI, I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING. I KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE UNABLE TO TOUCH ANYONE. NOT LONG AGO, SOMEONE DID SOMETHING TERRIBLE TO ME. THEY TRAPPED ME INSIDE A HOLLOW SHELL, UNABLE TO TOUCH ANYONE WITHOUT CAUSING THEM PAIN. I LIVED THAT WAY FOR A WHILE, UNABLE TO SPEAK OR TOUCH ANYONE. THAT WAS MY CURSE. THAT WAS MY PENANCE. I WAS NEVER THE SAME EVEN AFTER I WAS FREED. THE TWO OF US, WE’RE UNTOUCHABLE. BUT WE DON’T HAVE TO CONTINUE TO BE THAT WAY. WE CAN BE BETTER.

ALANI LOOKS UP AND STARTS TO SMILE. SHE SAYS THAT WHEN THE YEAR BEGAN, SHE REALIZED SHE WAS BISEXUAL. SHE WANTED SOMEONE TO LOVE HER AND SHE THOUGHT ABOUT HOW GOOD A FRIEND CESSILY WAS TO HER. BUT SHE SAW HOW HAPPY SHE WAS WITH ROXY AND SHE WAS JEALOUS. BUT SHE KNOWS THAT DEEP DOWN, SHE SEES CESSILY AS A GOOD FRIEND AND SHE WANTS TO STAY THAT WAY. MONET STANDS UP AND OFFERS HER HAND TO ALANI, WHO STANDS UP AND GIVES HER A HUG.

A FEW MINUTES LATER, SOFIA AND CESSILY MEET ALANI AND MONET. SOFIA REMINDS CESSILY NOT TO LET ALANI GET TO HER, AND CESSILY WALKS UP TO HER.

CESSILY: ALANI, I’M REALLY SORRY. I SHOULD’VE-

ALANI: YOU HAVE NOTHING TO APOLOGIZE FOR. I SHOULD’VE BEEN A BETTER FRIEND. I… I SHOULDN’T HAVE PRESSURED YOU INTO THIS. I’M VERY TRULY SORRY.

THE TWO GIRLS HUG.

ALANI: SO, STILL FRIENDS?

CESSILY: QUID PRO QUO, CLARICE. YOU DON’T TELL ANYONE ABOUT WHAT YOU SAW IN THE ASTRAL PLANE. THOSE ARE MY SECRETS AND I’LL TELL THEM TO ROXY WHEN I WANT TO.

ALANI: DEAL.

CESSILY: AND I, FOR ONE, AM SO GLAD THAT YOU’RE THINKING OF COMING OUT, BUT I CAN’T RECIPROCATE YOUR FEELINGS. I’M HAPPY WITH ROXY. BUT I CAN HELP YOU FIND SOMEONE ELSE. SOMEONE WHO YOU CAN LOVE.

ALANI: WELL… I WAS THINKING OF ASKING SUDI OUT. WE’VE BEEN PRETTY CLOSE.

ALL OF A SUDDEN, MEGAN DASHES OVER, RED-FACED AND PANTING, AS SHE DRAGS A CONFUSED TRAFFIC WARDEN BY THE COLLAR. SHE’S SWEATING LIKE CRAZY AND LOOKS HALF-CRAZED.

MEGAN: I COULDN’T FIND A POLICE OFFICER SO I GOT A TRAFFIC WARDEN! WRITE THEM ALL A TICKET!

SOFIA GIGGLES BEFORE TELLING MEGAN THAT THEY’VE CLEARED EVERYTHING UP, AND MEGAN RELAXES, ASKING IF THEY CAN GO HOME NOW. THE GIRLS START TO WALK BACK TO THE SCHOOL AND CESSILY AND ALANI START TO TALK TOGETHER. SOFIA IS ABOUT TO JOIN THEM WHEN MONET STOPS HER.

MONET: I TRUST YOU SAW THAT SECRET OF ALANI’S, RIGHT?

SOFIA: YES. EMMA FROST WAS THE ONE WHO TOLD ALANI TO DO THE PROCEDURE. JUST LIKE WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOU AND JULIAN.

MONET: I KNOW SHE MEANS WELL, BUT…

SOFIA: I KNOW. WHO ELSE DID SHE AGREE TO HELP?

MONET: WELL, EDIE, MARCOS, SUDI, AND MARK JUST WANTED HELP ON CLASSWORK, SO THE ONLY OTHER ONE WHO WANTED HELP IN THE OTHER WAY WAS… KEVIN.

SOFIA: THEN WE NEED TO FIND HIM BEFORE HE DOES SOMETHING HE’LL REGRET.

AS THEY WALK HOME, ‘PIANO MAN’ BY BILLY JOEL STARTS TO PLAY. WE SEE TJ, DANI, AND MORPH HELPING BEAK AND ANGEL FIX UP THE SHACK AND SOME OF THE BABIES PITCH IN AS WELL. THE COUPLE EMBRACES, SMILING HAPPILY. MEANWHILE, ALANI FLOPS ONTO HER BED, LOOKING OVER AT A NOTE FROM MIRROR GIRL SAYING THAT SHE GOT INVITED TO A PARTY AND SHE’LL BE BACK LATE. ALANI THEN PULLS OUT HER PHONE AND STARTS TO TEXT SUDI, ASKING IF SHE’D LIKE TO GO OUT WITH HER SOME TIME. WHEN SHE SENDS THE TEXT, SHE WRITES ANOTHER ONE THAT CLARIFIES THAT SHE MEANS TO ASK HER ON A DATE, BUT SHE HESITATES. HER FINGER HOVERS OVER THE SEND BUTTON AND SHE BITES HER LIP, NERVOUS, BUT SHE EVENTUALLY LOOKS DETERMINED AND SENDS THE MESSAGE, WAITING FOR SUDI TO TEXT BACK.

MEANWHILE, CLARICE AND SOFIA LIE IN BED, AS CLARICE TELLS SOFIA THAT SHE LOOKS HAPPY. SOFIA SMILES AND SAYS THAT SHE’S NOTICED THE SAME ABOUT CLARICE, WHO SAYS THAT SHE DID A GOOD THING TODAY. SOFIA SAYS SHE DID TOO AND THE TWO KISS BEFORE PROCEEDING TO HAVE SEX. MEANWHILE, ROXY LOOKS OVER AT A SMILING CESSILY AND ASKS WHAT’S UP. SHE JUST KISSES HER AND SAYS THAT SHE JUST CAN’T IMAGINE LIFE GETTING ANY BETTER THAN THIS.

WE THEN CUT OVER TO ONE FINAL SCENE AS JOSH KISSES LAURIE GOODNIGHT. LAURIE SAYS THAT CLARICE IS PROBABLY HOOKING UP WITH SOFIA AGAIN AND ASKS IF MAYBE JOSH COULD SPEND THE NIGHT WITH HER. JOSH SAYS NO, HE HAS A TEST TOMORROW AND NEEDS TO SLEEP, BUT ASSURES LAURIE THAT THEY’LL HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TOMORROW. AS LAURIE CLOSES THE DOOR, JOSH STARTS TO WALK TOWARD HIS ROOM BUT KEVIN WALKS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

JOSH: THE FUCK, KEVIN? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

KEVIN: I’LL CUT TO THE CHASE. YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK UP WITH LAURIE.

JOSH: WHAT? ARE YOU ON CRACK? WHY WOULD I DO THAT?

THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON KEVIN AS HE GIVES JOSH A DEVIOUS, SHIT-EATING GRIN.

KEVIN: BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T, I’LL TELL THE ENTIRE SCHOOL ABOUT WHAT YOU WERE DOING WITH RAHNE SINCLAIR LAST SEMESTER. AND YOU’LL GET EXPELLED!

TO BE CONTINUED

#new x men #cessily kincaid #alani ryan #sofia mantega #clarice ferguson #monet st croix #megan gwynn #talia wagner #kevin sidney #barnell bohusk #angel salvadore #noriko ashida #josh foley #laurie collins #kevin ford

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cyarsk5230 · 1 year ago

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PARTNER

The 10 Most Important Moments In Hip-Hop History (Sponsored Content)

Written By SPIN Contributor

| July 20, 2023 - 1:24 pm | Updated 22 hours ago

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Hip-hop works fast – and to be involved is to celebrate the past but to not miss the future. As the 50th anniversary of hip-hop is upon us, the mission to shock, puncture, and uplift people is still concretely pertinent.

Brought to you by get.hiphop, helping artists to strengthen their brand with a .hiphop domain name, here are the ten most important moments in hip-hop history, involving Southern rap stalwarts, petulant geniuses, streetwear fashion, rappers with eclectic taste, and traditionalists with untimely deaths.

It’s a bunch of different things y’all, indicative of the glorious diversity of hip-hop.

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randomvarious · 2 years ago

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Today’s compilation:

Tantrum Compilation 1990 Punk Rock / Alternative Rock / Pop-Punk / Hardcore Punk

Got another one of these punky early 90s LPs that manages to totally rip shit up 🤘😤. Presenting Tantrum Compilation, a 1990 release from a small L.A. label called Cocktail Records, who put out this album, and then a split 7-inch the following year, and then completely bounced out of existence. Ephemeral as hell, this thing presents a bunch of exclusives—though not entirely—from mostly Cali bands, including ones you may have heard of, like L7 and White Flag, and ones you definitely haven't heard of, like The Rails, whose only song they've ever released—a lightly punkish bit of alternarock called "Miss Rome Stays Home"—solely appears on this comp.

So, let's get into some of these raucous wig-flippers, starting with L.A.'s very own aforementioned White Flag. If you're a fan of this band, then chances are that you're familiar with their album, Zero Hour, and its title track. But guess what? There's a White Flag song on this album called "Zero Hour" too, but it's a completely different track than the one that appears on their Zero Hour album. And I thought that, maybe, this was a misprint on the part of Cocktail Records, but it appears that in a 2008 expanded edition of another White Flag album, Wild Kingdom, this song appears as "Zero Hour." Really weird and confusing, but I think I got to the bottom of it. And the guitar solo on it is incredible too, by the way. Blisteringly speedy 🤯.

Next, an exclusive from female-fronted San Franciscan punk band Frightwig, called "38 Special." This thing's such an electrifying anthem, man. They date back to the early 80s and they manage to bring those timelessly irresistible melodic power chords with them into the new decade. Just phenomenal stuff from them here.

And an unorthodox punk duo called The Death Folk are on here as well. They feature Pat Smear, of mythical Germs fame, and their song "Jack" loads up on layers of ever-changing and scratchy punk riffs, without any of the other instruments that you'd typically expect to hear accompanying them, such as a bass or drums. Instead, the band's other member, Gary Jacoby, is credited on tuba, but uhh, I don't think I hear any on this song 😅.

And then we've got another Cali group, Sacramento's Groovie Ghoulies, who supply a raw and super catchy power poppy pop-punk cover of Men Without Hats' 1987 hit, "Pop Goes the World." Something of a successful precursor to that whole Punk Goes... covers series that would come about in 2000 from Fearless Records. Had that whole enterprise existed a decade or so prior, you could expect to hear this song on one of their releases; I mean, it sounds damn near perfect for it.

Truth be told, though, this album felt pretty listless throughout the first half of its a-side, but then it managed to pick up a full head of punk steam and never looked back. Some really terrific tunes on this. Another one to throw on my slowly growing pile of great and obscure late 80s-early 90s punk comps that I've come across in the past year or so. Others include Dionysus Records' Sounds of Now! and Trigon's Gimme the Keys !!, two excellent late 80s punk comps from Cali labels that run a bit more garage-y.

And you definitely can't find direct YouTube links to every song that's on this album, but luckily, someone uploaded the whole thing to YouTube just two months ago(!), so you can hear them all in there.

Listen to the full album here.

Highlights:

White Flag - "Zero Hour" Instigators - "The Blood Is On Your Hands" Frightwig - "38 Special" The Death Folk - "Jack" Groovie Ghoulies - "Pop Goes the World" Spiderbaby - "Wake Up" The Rails - "Miss Rome Stays Home"

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spade-riddles · 3 years ago

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See, this is also why no one believes he is WB and that he wrote those songs. They (Taylor/Toe) know people know he didn’t work on those albums. Remember the radio interview he did during CWF when the host kinda grilled him about it and he got all sassy with her? I think she said something about people working hard to earn Grammys. She must’ve struck a nerve because he was like “well *I* did”.

I even noticed now when you see the CWF promo on Twitter or IG, it mainly focuses on Sasha and Allison’s characters. He’s not a leading man, he has no sex appeal…he just photographs decently on occasion.

Not to be mean or rude, but I’m starting feel like Taylor’s so obsessed with staying relevant as she gets older that she doesn’t even realize how embarrassing this all looks. I mean…she’s literally breaking records daily. A shoo-in for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when her opportunity comes about. Has inspired many artists to write their own songs and stressed the importance of them owning their masters from the beginning of their careers. Relevance doesn’t always have to be about the songs. It can be in terms of the impact you’ve made. Ashanti, who is well established herself has even said Taylor’s fight for her masters inspired her to go after hers. Anita Baker has spoken of Taylor’s influence on her masters fight (she now OWNS her work). Your relevance can be felt in your impact and your impact will be reflected in your legacy.

She even admitted she will inconvenience herself to prove a point and that speaks volumes. Because she’s literally doing that right now. Inconveniencing herself to prove a point that she can “keep a man” for longer than 3 months. Inconveniencing herself to push a false narrative to sell albums when she doesn’t even need to do that. That’s society’s fault though. Because as we can see, society doesn’t think LGBTQIA+ people (alleged or open) can express or have feelings and emotions like *they* do.

What’s sad is that instead of embracing who she is, she willingly “inconveniences herself to prove a point”, but it comes off more as her trying to convince herself of something by possibly denying her (alleged) truth.

Going through what she went through (career wise) in 2016 and surviving it was so empowering to other women because they too have encountered those same obstacles in the workplace—having men do anything to undermine or discredit their hard work. Their self-made success, but no. All of a sudden, everything is being credited to a man who did nothing, but reaps benefits and enjoys the fruits of YOUR labor.

As much as some people think it’s “cute” that Toe has “saved” her and other bs…it’s really not. It’s frustrating. In the process of “inconveniencing herself to prove a point”, she has (unintentionally) given into misogynistic mindset that women can’t be successful by their own doing unless a man plays a part in that success.

And I don’t really think that’s what you meant when you said you’d become a Mirrorball, Taylor. Why would you need to change everything about yourself to impress a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, white male (terrible) unknown actor?

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oh-hush-its-perfect · 3 years ago

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do you think there is any significance that alex's colour scheme is green and pink? or do you think rr went "u know what this character needs? to look like a watermelon"

((Prefacing this by saying that I'm giving RR way too much credit here, but you shouldn't take anything an author does for granted— even a serial author who often makes blunders and mistakes.))

A while ago I saw a (pretty unfair) assumption that RR made it green and pink because blue and pink would be too obvious, but that his intention was obviously to reinforce the gender binary by using two distinctly gendered colors for a character with two distinct genders. Of course, they did not phrase it so delicately. No offense to whoever made that post, but I disagree.

Although that may have had to do with it, there's other things to consider. One of them is color symbolism. And oh. OH. I ADORE symbolism— especially flower/plant symbolism (Language of the Flowers and all that jazz), seasonal symbolism (there's a reason that evermore is my second favorite Taylor Swift album), and color symbolism.

GREEN

Let's talk about green first. Green can symbolize a lot of different things, and there are a few that can be applied to Alex's character. The most obvious thing that green often represents is jealousy— hence the expression "green with envy." But envy is not really one of Alex's character traits. Feel free to argue with me if you think that Alex is significantly envious. Just because I couldn't think of substantial textual evidence for it does not mean that there isn't any.

One of the traits that Alex does have is wealth. Green is the color of American currency, and since both RR and Alex are American, it's safe to take an American lens while looking at this color. Alex's socioeconomic background effects her in a big way. I mentioned in a previous post that I think that Alex's fatal flaw is her sense of entitlement. That kind of entitlement is a quality not exclusive to but common among the upper class. However, her distance from her wealthy background enhances the sense of irony in the story, which is a VERY big thing that we NEVER talk about within the fandom.

This is kind of a little thing, but it's worth noting that when it comes to Valhalla and everything, Alex is "green"— as in new and inexperienced.

The color green also emphasizes Alex's connection with nature. This is one of the parts of Alex's character that the fandom consistently underplays, which is an absolute shame. I don't think I have to explain why the color green is associated with all things natural. Alex's association with nature provides a few key things to her character:

It makes her a more well-rounded character. Another criticism of Alex I believe is totally unfounded is that "being genderfluid is her only personality trait because it influences her philosophy on pottery, which is her only hobby." I'm probably going to make another post in, like, a few minutes about why I find that argument a little silly, but the primary problem is that pottery is not Alex's only hobby. She also loves camping, hiking, and ice wall climbing (I bet y'all forgot about that last one!)

It gives her a connection with Magnus. I mentioned in a previous post that Magnus and Alex are foils, but I neglected to bring up why that also makes for very good chemistry between them. Of course, yes, they have different goals and philosophy, which is what makes them foils in the first place. But foil relationships function best when the characters also share some traits. As it turns out, Alex and Magnus share several hobbies, and one of them is a mutual love for nature. This is a very unexplored thing in fics. Start doing it more plz.

Finally, and this one's kind of minor, but the Alex's green gives her a connection to Natalie. I know, whenever Alex and Natalie are compared, either in canon or in fandom, everybody kind goes "eww. Oedipus complex." Which is very fair and true. But they really do have a lot of similarites. The green of Alex's hair and clothes connects her to the green of Natalie's eyes. It's worth saying, too, that Alex has one amber eye— and amber is pretty close to dirty blonde, like Natalie's hair.

If I had more faith in RR, I might bring up the concept of intextuality and how Alex wearing green is an allusion to The Great Gatsby and how Alex is elusive to Magnus, just like Daisy is to Gatsby. But I don't.

PINK

To give credit to the person who wrote the post I mentioned at the beginning of this spiel, I do believe that part of the reason pink was used was to support femininity. Please keep in mind that Alex dresses in an androgynous way— not that there is an actually "gendered" way to dress, since gender as we perceive it is mostly made up. But Alex's existence as a transfemme person (which I will maintain until my dying day) means that pink has a certain significance to her. A lot of AMAB people embrace traditionally feminine things because if they don't, they will not be accepted as genuine women or genuine nonbinary folks, since masculine dress is unisex and kind of the default. So Alex wearing pink probably had something to do with her gender, yes. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, and it's certainly not an unrealistic thing.

Speaking of Alex's gender in relation to the color pink, let's talk about pink's use as a queer rights symbol. Alex was RR's first character to be introduced as a queer character from the start. This was not an insignificant thing, especially in the year of our Lord 2016 (which, despite popular belief, seriously had an entirely different landscape of queer rep. Though it's commonplace now to include genderqueer characters, it was exceptional at the time— especially by such an accomplished and mainstream children's author.).

Let's go back in time to Nazi Germany. Some of you might know this, but for those of you don't this transition must seem jarring. I swear there's a point. In addition to Jews, Romani individuals, people with disabilities, and Poles (among others), gay men were victimized by the Nazis. If you're wondering why lesbians weren't persecuted, it's because the Nazis didn't see them as a serious political threat, or as a threat to the perpetuation of the Aryan race since they assumed gay women could be forcefully impregnated if need be. Yeah, ew. Anyway, much like the Star of David being used to mark Jewish people, gay men were forced into concentration camps and forced to wear a pink triangle. Years later, after the gay population somewhat recovered, the pink triangle was reclaimed and used as a symbol for gay men. Some people who were not gay men used it, too, but that's somewhat controversial since it wasn't their symbol to reclaim. When the first pride flag was created, it had a pink stripe at the top to signify sex (this was later dropped so flags could be more easily produced). The pink triangle (inverted) was used during the AIDs epidemic with the caption "Silence=Death."

My point is that this is a very important color to queer folks. Having one of the first genderfluid characters in kid's lit wear pink...... I mean, it makes sense.

The last and final thing that pink represents, in this context and in general, is innocence. Granted, this kind of connects to feminitity since women (especially white women) are often infantalized and seen as innocent— which is another issue. In any case, the use of pink to represent innocence in Alex's dress is ironic. Alex has been robbed of her childhood innocence, first by her abusive parents, then by her life on the streets, and then by her eventual death at age sixteen. But then she actually regains her innocence. At the beginning of the—

Hold on. I just had a revelation. I'll make a post about it soon.

At the beginning of SotD, Alex is acting a little childish. The most obvious example is him jumping on Randolph's bed to "make noise." Alex's life is stable and relatively healthy for the first time in the years, and she experiences something that a lot of queer folks experience: a re-emergence of childhood at a late stage.

I imagine you didn't expect a post this long. I either make essay responses to asks or I add on one sentence and post it. Oops. Anyway, I believe the mcga fandom can be more creative than calling Alex a watermelon. Here are some other (kinda romantic) pink-and-green alternatives:

Roses

Dragonfruit

Grapefruit

Cherry blossom trees

#mcga #magnus chase #alex fierro #mcatgoa #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #sorry for the long response lol #thanks for the ask! I had a go of it!

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thegreatimpersonator · 2 years ago

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Idk I think there’s something to be said about Harry and how he’s refused to give reporters a label for his sexuality like if he was straight he could’ve just said it you know? And idk I think that’s great in a world where lgbt+ people are expected to have lengthy coming out ceremonies to be able to be accepted as lgbt by straight and lgbt people. Like he doesn’t have to prove anything to be part of the community or label himself and he doesn’t owe anyone anything. There’s nothing wrong with an elaborate coming out if that’s what you want to do but no one owes anyone that

And idk people can say that he’s not doing anything revolutionary and sure, bowie and prince were pushing gender norms before but we’re still in a society where men think it’s embarrassing to be feminine at all and he’s helping to push the boundaries a little more by wearing dresses and nail polish and if it makes one boy out there feel comfortable to do that and go to school or work or wherever and present in a way that feels amazing to them because Harry styles did it on the cover of a magazine… then he’s doing something good.

That being said this movie drama is bad and he sounds stupid af when he speaks and I don’t think he’s an amazing songwriter or anything. I really really liked his first two albums but Harry’s house was kinda a disappointment lol. Idk what to make of him now.

i do agree that he doesnt need to label himself and dont have any issue with that, no one should, and i agree him doing traditionally feminine things can help other men be more comfortable, people just give him way too much credit in my opinion.

people saying he 'wore a dress' kinda pisses me off because he was fully covered and it looked like just a giant sack, it wasnt anything crazy. kid cudi wore an actual sundress live on snl and no one gave him a pat on the back. billy porter has been pushing so many boundaries and when he said he never got the positive affirmations harry did and how billy did it first, harry fans literally hated on him and he ended up apologizing. race also plays a role in all of it for sure, harry being white and getting applauded while black men just get barely anything and they'll face more backlash is important to recognize in all this. i just think people saying he's in any way a pioneer are giving him way too much credit.

#answered #anonymous

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 2 years ago

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i am fascinated by the messages you've received about harry + racism and have been thinking about it all morning, it is frustrating and disappointing for a whole range of reasons, although unfortunately not surprising.

as said by yourself and others, racism is not simply acts of racism/violence/abuse etc, it is also internal bias towards white people, putting white people/feelings/experiences first, respecting whit people more, prioritising white people etc etc

in terms of harry's role as a director of his touring company/as a boss, of course we don't know what he explicitly says/does within that space -- however it seems obvious to me that his priority is not ensuring diversity/fighting discrimination in his work life/team. that is what that photograph is evidence of, because if that was a priority for him, as you say, it wouldn't simply be the visible members of him team/crew (aka his band) that is diverse. and so, diversity across his whole team is not a priority to him, or else his crew/team would look completely different in terms of race/gender, and that is racism.

why is this not a priority to harry? i can only assume that it's because it is easy and comfortable to him. he is comfortable with it being this way, is comfortable being around majority white men in his work life, and ultimately is comfortable with working in an environment which doesn't include lots of different people. he is not actively changing this and is instead enabling this discrimination (although he has the power to do so as a company director), which is racist.

another thing that i am frustrated to be reminded of is that people don't seem to understand that all white people are racist. we live in a racist world (this is fact) and so if you are white, you only understand the world through navigating the world with the privilege of being white. there is lots more to be said about this, but like, it's just as simple as that. and so when it comes to this conversation about his team/crew, i am frustrated that people don't recognise that he is fundamentally racist as white person anyway!

why are people so obsessed with defining people/ourselves/harry/louis, as being either simply good or bad. humans are complex and multifaceted, why is it so important to be good/un-criticisable????? like not only does everyone obviously have flaws (can't believe i'm saying this cos i thought it was obvious, but even harry, even louis), but also someone can be kind/talented/funny, and also be racist? i'm so bored of people feeling the need to defend harry + louis and their actions, which 1) makes no difference to harry/louis, 2) normalised/enables shit behaviour/things they do that should be questioned. it's as if people think they need to justify why they love/support/care about h/l, and that it is only justifiable if h/l are un flawed, perfect humans (which is just not realistic or possible). harry can be racist and he can still be important to you, like what the heck

racism is fundamental in our world, and our relationship with h/l as fans reflects this, their lives and actions reflect this, their success is the result of this.

thanks for reading all this, and for your blog, i wish everyone was open to being critical and questioning in the fandom, without thinking it makes you less valid as a fan

Thanks anon - I have really appreciated the anons that engaged with these questions and taking them seriously. And the reason that I have been so willing to answer such a range of anons is because I think it's really important to discuss these ideas and expose some of the damaging justifications to sunlight.

I really like what you say in point 2 - that's the whole point of being the boss - you are responsible for what happens. If non-discriminatory employment was a priority for Harry, then his tour photos (and album credits) would look very different. I think it's really important principle of accountability that people with power are responsible for the organisations they run. A tour photo tells us a lot about Harry (and other 1D members).

Totally agree about four and five as well - in some way the most regressive responses are those that say some variation of 'how dare you make such a serious allegation'. In general it's important to treat the idea that a white person is racist as not something unusual which requires a very high evidential standard. More particularly, when you're thinking of a white man, who grew up in a very white area, and joined the music industry when he was 16 and has been incredibly famous ever since. White people who are fighting racism don't just happen. It requires both will (which I'm happy to assume Harry has) and also continual exposure to anti-racist ideas, practices and people. There's absolutely no evidence that Harry has had exposure to that, or has tried to learn. The things he has said about anti-racism have suggested the opposite (particularly when he talked about wanting to make sure that he was doing the right thing it 20 years time, without showing any understanding of what he should do now).

As I say (probably too often) I do think that the defensiveness from fans come from an anxiety response based on identification. But we don't always have to listen to our anxiety responses!

The one thing I would push back on a little bit is your formulation in point 1. I don't think what Harry is doing here is most usefully understood as putting white people's feelings first. That's a pretty individualistic model that focuses on the particular white people involved. Instead what Harry is using his power to uphold a racist allocation of resources. I think that it's important to put that aspect of racism - the system of power to extract resources - at the centre rather than prefiery. So I'd never say 'racism is not simply acts of violence and abuse, but also...' Instead I'd put the extraction of resources, including in the last two and half centuries the allocation of work, at the centre (I think this Gary Younge column is about something slightly different, but the last two paragraphs very much inform how I think about racism).

Thanks again anon - it's really great to actually talk more broadly about racism and anti-racism.

#I've just realised I didn't address the question of why isn't this a priority for Harry #I think for me #that's never a surprise #it's political action and choosing to dismantle systems fo power that's the choice #not the opposite

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neocatharsis · 4 years ago

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NCT’s Mark Lee on Dreams, Instagram Poetry, and Growing Up

Mark has a lot going on — but he’s making time for poetry, introspection, and, of course, the members of NCT Dream. - Vivien Wu

“I’ve been thinking about dreams a lot these days!” Mark Lee exclaims over Zoom from SM Entertainment’s Seoul headquarters.

The 21-year-old leader of NCT Dream is enthusiastic as he mulls over the meaning of dreams, his back against a wall of pink and yellow flowers assembled by his fellow NCT members. He’s wearing a simple, white tee, and when he gestures with his hands, you can catch glimpses of the friendship ring that all seven members of NCT Dream wear as a symbol of their bond.

“I actually feel like dreams hold a large portion of a life, and I’m not just talking about the subconscious dreams that we all have when we sleep,” he continues. “If you put it in a way where dreams are actually things that motivate us, and the drive that keeps us going, especially as a strongly driven person myself, I feel like… a guy with no dreams is like…” He looks up, thinking. “…A car with no engine. So, I think it’s as important as yourself. That’s how deep I go with dreams.”

His interest in dreams is fitting, considering that they are also the central, underlying concept to the lore behind NCT Dream’s parent group, NCT. They connect their three subunits, NCT 127, NCT Dream, and WayV, in a complex, Inception-inspired fictional universe where dreams are the only way they can find each other, and where upon uniting they can mix to form new subunits collectively referred to as NCT U. In practical terms, this has resulted in a 23-member mega-group that is multifaceted in every way — from their musical styles and visual aesthetics to their cultural backgrounds and spoken languages.

NCT Dream’s original teenage concept meant that members were supposed to “graduate” when they came of age, and as the oldest, Mark was the first to leave the group at the end of 2018. Having grown attached, however, fans were devastated at his departure; after a year of separation, SM announced that the graduation system would be scrapped and that he would rejoin the group. Their new album, Hot Sauce, is the first with Mark in over two years. As fellow member Haechan declared in an interview with Teen Vogue earlier this week, “Mark [is] very special. NCT Dream means Mark.”

But before the rapper led NCT Dream, and before he joined NCT U and NCT 127 and SuperM — the man is in high demand — Mark’s childhood dream was writing. He grew up in Toronto, and through doing school projects and essays quickly discovered that he had a natural way with words. Inspired by Percy Jackson author Rick Riordan, Harry Potter, and James Patterson, Mark dreamt of becoming an author, long before he was recruited by SM at a global audition in Canada in 2012. “When I was in school, I was always the kind of guy who would write more than expected, and that became a thing that clicked for me,” he says. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s something that I naturally do?’ But then that kind of turned into rap writing too, so I guess they kind of clicked together.” It explains his prolific career as a lyricist; since debuting, he’s amassed over 30 songwriting credits across his various groups, contributing to songs as iconic as NCT U’s “Boss,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and NCT Dream’s “Chewing Gum.”

Even with such an extensive body of work, however, penning lyrics hasn’t satiated his appetite for literary expression. In an interview with Japanese magazine Men’s Non-No, he revealed that he still hopes one day to write a book, whether that be a novel, autobiography, or something more philosophical.

In the meantime, he’s taken to writing what are basically short poems on his Instagram, which he created just a few months ago. He’s gathered over 4.5 million followers since then, but having such a large audience hasn’t deterred him from being endearingly vulnerable with the way he writes. When I refer to them as poems, he laughs and looks embarrassed, but when I ask him to tell me the stories behind them, he’s enthusiastic again. They’re short, but offer brief glimpses into Mark the writer — sharp, inquisitive, and thoughtful. As pieces of literature, they’re a little rough around the edges, but the sincerity he’s known for shines through, illuminating the introspective, philosophical side that may not be so obvious in person.

His first poem, loosely titled “Late Night Scribbling,” put into words his musings about sleep, thoughts, feelings, and writing. It meanders from topic to topic, hovering between feelings of hope and hopelessness, before ending with a comically awkward “haha.”

“I actually wrote that by imagining how I wanted to organize my Instagram page,” he explains. “I was thinking of creating an Instagram, then I realized that, well, I’m not really a picture kind of guy, I’m not really a travelling kind of guy… I kind of studied who I am first, and I [asked myself], ‘What’s something that I can really portray in an intimate way?’ and it turned out to be writing.”

“I started to brainstorm what kind of topics I could write about, and then from there on, I started to write a little each and every night, and that turned into Late Night Scribbling,” he continues. “That kind of gave me courage to start Instagram in the first place, that piece of writing.”

Two weeks later, he followed it up with “Black Socks,” a whimsical ode to, well, black socks — complete with accompanying photos of him wearing said socks. Immediately, it feels more confident and cohesive than its predecessor. Using the neat and tidy look of black socks as a metaphor, he describes his own mindset for living life: “Pleasure from perfect alignment; That also goes for my ability to be parallel with my thoughts and actions; I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep it consistent even when forgotten like a working habit.”

Comments on the posts praise his writing and encourage him to continue sharing these small pieces of himself. On the stage, Mark takes on a confident, larger-than-life persona, while in vlogs and spoken interviews, he’s a bubbly character full of laughter and boyish charm. What the poems show is that, beneath these outer appearances, there’s another layer of complexity that is yet to be fully explored, and it’s not surprising that fans want to know more.

His day job as a K-pop idol doesn’t allow a lot of time for hobbies, though, and he confesses to not having written much lately. Despite that, he’s determined to stay in the industry for as long as possible. “Longevity is something that I’ve always been aiming for,” he says. “I’m willing to do this for a long time, and that requires a lot of work. I’m willing to take that as a challenge and I’m trying to stay as long as I can, but with quality.”

That focus on quality informs his preparations for the upcoming promotions with NCT Dream. In both their fictional world and ours, NCT Dream are a central component of NCT by virtue of their unique focus on growth — the seven members were aged between 14 and 17 when the group first debuted in 2016. Fast-forward five years, and the members are now 19 to 21, having reached a milestone in January when the youngest, Jisung, finally became a legal adult in Korea. When asked if he feels like an adult yet, though, Mark gives an extremely relatable answer with zero hesitation.

“I still feel like I’m in middle school, I’m gonna be totally honest. I swear to God, I feel like I’m… All right, I’ll put it up — I feel like I’m in high school!” He laughs. “I even had this talk with Jisung, ‘cos he’s the latest that turned into an adult. He said that he still feels like he’s a student, he doesn’t feel like he’s 20 [19 in international age] right now.”

It’s been a long time since all seven Dream members — Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung — have released an album together, and as the first full-length album since their debut, the fan anticipation is palpably intense. Mark himself has mentioned in various vlogs how important he believes this comeback to be, and that conviction becomes obvious whenever he talks about it.

“We had a talk all together, the seven of us, without any cameras or anything. I brought all the guys together and we talked before the whole momentum started, and I said that I’m willing to put my everything on this one. Like, I always had, but I feel like… the whole universe, or like— ” He pauses, trying to figure out how to articulate himself, and his next line is the most emphatic of our whole conversation. “There are things that are out of our control, but we can see and feel when the pieces match together sometimes, and I feel like this specific moment, this particular album, kind of had those essential parts.”

He’s thinking about all of the context surrounding this comeback: the group’s coming of age, the reunion of all seven members, the scale of the album, the fact that Jisung has only just recovered from a leg injury that meant he couldn’t dance for months — even the fact that 2020 was, against all odds, the best year yet for NCT, with release after release bringing them unprecedented success and momentum.

“I felt that coming and I explained all of that [to the group],” he continues. “This whole period of time has a lot of meaning to it, and we’re not taking that for granted, we’re working hard.” With everything that’s happened, Hot Sauce is a historic moment for NCT Dream, and that’s been reflected in their numbers — the album clocked over 1.7 million pre-orders, obliterating their previous record of 500,000 for last year’s EP, Reload.

Their familial bond and the success that has come with it is the culmination of years spent living, working, and growing up together. The members have collectively missed out on key experiences that most teenagers might take for granted, distanced as they are from normal life, and the group also benefits from an unusually loose adherence to traditional Korean age hierarchy. The result is a brotherhood that goes beyond just being colleagues. “What we have is pretty intimate, and it’s also genuine,” Mark says.

About his role, he is matter of fact. “I’m by far the most easily approachable punching bag for the team. I am not… complaining…” He laughs. “But all jokes aside, I feel like my role for this team… Yes, I am the oldest and I am the leader but I’m also… In Korea, in the culture, age is very important, but we’ve come so far that all those borders kind of just vanished and we’re all pretty much friends, and I guess I’m just a friend of theirs too.”

It’s true that, despite being the leader, his friendly personality and endearingly awkward mannerisms mean that he commands about as much authority as a small puppy. Instead, much like a puppy, he is showered with love and affection (fellow member Chenle refers to Mark as his son and his actual puppy Daegal as Mark’s little sister), but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a dependable leader figure. The opposite is true — in Renjun’s words, Mark’s presence unites the group in a way that makes him irreplaceable.

And while this may be the fifth year since their debut, in the grand scheme of things, the members of NCT Dream are still very, very young — by most standards, they would still be considered to have their entire careers ahead of them. Growth has brought them here, but where does Mark think it will take them in the future?

“Growing just never stops for us, I can see us growing continuously, endlessly,” he replies. “What the future holds is something that we will never know, but we always do try to prepare during the present, and so with whatever time we have currently and with whatever album, or whatever stage, or whatever piece of music it may be, we’re willing to make sure that we have the next one coming too.”

A final thought. “I’m glad that we’re striving for that, ‘cos we started off as…” Mark shakes his head, “…as babies.”

#nct #nct dream #Mark #nct 127

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blue-fidelity · 4 years ago

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~ “Smile In The Face of Tragedy”

Chapter One: Beer Run

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

(Y/N) reminisces the events of the summer before senior year. It’s her last year of High School, and she wants to start fresh, the pretty newcomer with shiny blue eyes is willing to help with that.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, abuse (could be trigger warning, reader has a hard past)

The year of 1984 had come into full swing, and (Y/N) had tried to make the rest of her junior year somewhat enjoyable. After the incident with the demogorgon around Christmas, she wanted to focus on the lighter side of life. Which was mainly dicking around with her best friend, and crush, Steve Harrington. Things were going great, till the summer.

‘Summer of ‘84. She dubbed it, “The Summer of Steve & Nancy”. Months usually consisted of Steve and Nancy trying to fix the shattered fragment of what their relationship was, whilst (Y/N) and Jonathan watched on the sidelines. Steve would come to (Y/N)’s house at ungodly hours of the night, usually sneaking through her window.

She’s just been so distant, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong- he’d whimper, laying his head on her lap. She tried to contain her tears, for him. If only she could tell Steve that there was someone better for him, someone that could make him happy. There was one problem with that, though. Steve loved Nancy. It’s not like (Y/N) could change that, and it killed her. Seeing her best friend in this state though, it was another level. She wanted to scream at Nancy, scream at her for stringing Steve on a loose thread that she could’ve easily cut. Instead Nancy hid her feelings for Jonathan and carried on this dance with Steve.

It just wasn’t fair, though, nothing really seemed fair at this point. Everything would eventually come crashing down and it’d leave a trail of broken hearts in the process, but atlast, (Y/N) would keep her head up high. She’d try her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions she wasn’t able to handle. If anything turned down hill, she knew she’d have one thing. Her brother, Dustin.

Dustin was the ray of happiness that (Y/N) projected off of, to his charismatic personality and bright smile, she was like him in many ways. Moments spent with her brother we’re always great, they had a surprisingly better relationship then most siblings did. It was probably because (Y/N) was secretly a nerd, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she probably liked D&D even more than her brother did. That’s why she absolutely loved joining Dustin and his friends on their sessions.

This made the party worship her in a way, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. It’s not everyday you get a bunch of middle schoolers fawn after you. So despite the never ending months of trying to mend Steve’s broken heart, the summer wasn’t a total bust. In fact, she loved the days she spent with those boys (even though it was a little hard to carpool when she drove a Harley Davidson, Mike was always willing to lend his family’s station wagon).

Now, she was nearly two months into her senior year, and she decided to make it count. After all, it was her last year of high school before college. It was the day before Halloween, and she couldn’t be more excited. Dustin and the rest of the party were pretty hyped about spending their first night trick or treating unchaperoned, if (Y/N) remembered correctly he stated, “(Y/N)! We are 13, practically men! As men we fetch our own candy”. To this she giggled, ruffling her brother’s curls, “Well young man, you must save your sister some Kit-Kats”.

(Y/N) knew Tina, the only popular girl that really tolerated her was going to throw a party at her place. She had called her last night all excited about her, “Halloween Bash”, and how she wanted (Y/N) to help plan it. “The guys at the liquor store won’t say no to a hot chic on a motorcycle!”, of course Tina wanted her to get the beer. (Y/N) didn’t even drink that much! Only on occasions, but Tina was her friend. So after school today, she was going to head to ‘Hawkins local liquor store, and PRAY TO GOD she could hide the kegs from her mother. It was moments like these she wished she had a car to stash things in.

She pulled up into Hawkins High’s parking lot, “Toys in The Attic” by Aerosmith playing loudly on her stereo. Spending a whole summer with middle schooler’s kind of made her forget about her social status. If it made sense, (Y/N) wasn’t in the “popular clique”, being Steve’s best friend just gave her a title. Those who didn’t like her called her, “Steve’s Wannabe Queen”, which was partially true, whilst others who liked her didn’t name her anything. She was just, “(Y/N) Henderson”. A face that simply stood out in the crowd because of sheer confidence, kindness, and a vibe that screamed cool. Guys wanted to fuck her, girls wanted to be her. It was a classic High School cliché.

Tina waved at her as she parked her ‘Harley beside her car. She was with Carol and another girl who she couldn’t name. “Hey (Y/N/N), I was just telling the ladies you’ll be supplying the beer for tomorrow?”, she said, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Only because you know the creeps down there won’t turn me down, come on Tina I feel used”, she fake pouted. The girls all laughed, continuing to talk about the party.

As the girls continued their conversation, (Y/N)’s Aerosmith seemed to be drowned out by the familiar sound of The Scorpions, “Rock You Like A Hurricane”. A fellow metal head such as herself in Hawkins Indiana? ‘This couldn’t be possible. About everyone in this town had shitty taste in music, besides her and Jonathan. She turned down her stereo and directed her view to the sound, eyes being met with an ocean blue Camaro, with a California license plate. How fitting. Whoever the driver was, had sped into the parking spot beside hers.

The group of girls behind her stared eagerly to see who this suspicious newcomer was, and if (Y/N) was being honest, she was kind of curious as well. The driver door swung open, and the driver’s combat boots grounded him to the concrete. That’s when she saw him, and he saw her, too.

Something radiated off him, almost a confidence higher than hers. It was cockiness, and at first glance, she could see right through him. Denim jacket, cuffed jeans, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. That was her first impression, and damn was he definitely good looking. For a moment, Steve had been wiped from her brain. Replaced with blonde curls and pretty blue eyes that bore into hers. “Whatcha looking at, princess?”, he smirked- eyeing her up and down like an animal staring down its prey. (Y/N) tried to contain herself, she wasn’t about to be wooed by the new playboy.

“I’m simply looking at your car, 1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, right?”, her car knowledge would get her out of this one. “Right you are sweetheart, pleasure to see one of the girls in this town has common sense”, he grinned, showing his pearly whites. “Well if you're ‘lookin for that trait in the rest of the girls here, I think you’d sadly be disappointed”, she smiled, gesturing to her “friends”. Tina and the other’s let out gasps. The newcomer shook his head, plucking his cigarette from his lips. “Well I guess I’ll see you and your senseless friends around then, huh?”, “I guess so”. He strutted to the school.

“You whore! Way to throw us under the bus like that”, Tina scowled, slapping (Y/N) on the shoulder. She only laughed, “Well, couldn’t lie to the guy now could I?”. Well wasn’t (Y/N) feeling pretty proud about herself right now? She could really be a sarcastic fuck sometimes, huh?

In a way, (Y/N) loved school. Her place made her feel validated, and she got pretty good grades. What was there not to love? As she was at her locker, her peachy attitude soon turned to discomfort. The happy squeals of Nancy could be heard from a few lockers away as Steve spun her around. She smiled at the couple, yet it still made her heart ache. (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Jonathan awkwardly walking away from them, passing by her. Steve looked at his girlfriend with sparkles in his eyes. He genuinely seemed joyful, and in a way she was happy for him. Still, that aching feeling was there, and at this point it seemed nothing could replace it.

Later that day, during art class (which was last period), she found out the new guy's name was Billy Hargrove. Fresh out from sunny California a week ago. She questioned why someone like him would choose art out of all things for his creative credit, but, maybe he’d surprise her. The class was filled with a very “out of the box”, group of people. They might’ve been (Y/N)’s favorite out of the student body. The art room was a space for open opinions, and creativity. Everyone was interesting in their own individual way, but somehow, Billy managed to stand out.

When he entered the class, everyone was already working on their current pieces. Mr. Axworthy, who insisted everyone called him “Mr. Ax”, had assigned a new project about a week ago. Every year he gave students an assignment to represent themselves, this year it was painting your favorite album cover. Though (Y/N) had many favorites, she chose The Clash’s “London Calling”, and was currently working on the shading. She was calmly sitting at her easel when she heard the teacher speak, “Mr. Hargrove! Pleasure to have you in our art class, there’s a free spot beside Mrs. Henderson, she’ll explain the current project to you!”. (Y/N) gave “Mr. Hargrove” a slight smile as he walked towards her.

“So, Henderson, huh? Got a first name?”, he questioned, showing that cocky smirk. “It’s, (Y/N), yours?”, “Billy. Billy Hargrove”. Now she knew his name- and it somehow added to his intoxicating aura. Call it fascination- but, Billy’s presence overwhelmed her in a way, and she didn’t even know him that well! It’s not like her feelings for Steve disappeared, just anytime those shimmering blue eyes glanced her way, her heart raced. Maybe Billy was the void waiting to fill that aching feeling, and she just hadn’t realized it yet. Everyone was telling her to move on, that it wasn’t worth it, but- to her, Steve was worth it. The one thing that wasn’t worth it though, was chasing a dream that wasn’t going to come true.

As (Y/N) was explaining the project to Billy, she was surprised by how attentive he was. If he could get excited about one thing, it was music. “So how are your art skills?”, she asked, “A little rusty, but nothing you can’t show me”, he grinned, taking one of his paint brushes and dipping it into some red paint. (Y/N) thought he’d go for the canvas, but he surprisingly smeared the paint onto her cheeks. She stared at him in shock- “Wha-what the hell did you do that for?!”, she exclaimed. “Just thought I could add to the flush on your cheeks!”, he laughed, of course he’d notice her blushing. Two could play at this game. “Well, you know what I think your face could use?”, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”, “Some green!”, she shouted, painting a big green line on his face. Before their paint war could continue, Mr. Axworthy had noticed.

“I hate to interrupt, but shouldn’t the paint go on your canvas?”, he motioned to our easels. “Well of course Mr. Ax, but when it comes to the concept of art, isn’t everything a canvas?” she giggled, leaving Mr. Axworthy speechless. “Well, yes- but I’d prefer you’d not interrupt the class and actually help Billy start his project”, he states. “Definitely, he had just finished telling me he wanted to do Metallica’s ‘Kill ‘em All, isn’t that correct, Mr. Hargrove?”, “Yes that is correct!”. “Well then, carry on, you can wash the paint off your faces at the end of class”.

By the time class finished, Billy had at least finished the base coat of his painting whilst (Y/N) had time to finish her shading. Now, they needed to step into the halls with paint all over their faces-how embarrassing. It was as if Mr. Axworthy wanted them to be publicly humiliated! In a way, (Y/N) didn’t blame him, it was a good form of punishment. When the pair walked the halls, they received awkward glances. Billy simply rolled his eyes, who were they to judge him? He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile, “Let them stare, I know you got rep around this joint, they have no reason to give you dirty looks, aight?”. It was nice to have reassurance from Billy, but from getting to know him, he generally had that ‘don’t give a fuck attitude’. She wasn’t worried about the paint. She was worried what people would think if they saw her, the girl who had been pining for Steve forever, under another guy's arms. The new hotshot nonetheless.

Luckily Billy was called over by Tommy, of course he had already been recruited by that group. Despite her very much fun art class with him, she was feeling uneasy with all the looks she was getting from people, and to make matters worse, Steve was standing at her locker. He waved her over with a smile, to which she headed over to him.

“Hey Stevie”, she beamed at him. Damn she still couldn’t resist that adorable face. “Hiya (Y/N/N), saw you walking with ‘Hargrove”, he smirked. “Oh yeah, that- we just have art together, nothing big”, she blushed, I guess Billy really was getting to her. “That explains the paint on your cheeks?”, he pointed at the red coated on her face. “Just a small mishap I guess”, she chuckled. “So what brings Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington to my locker?” she inquired. “Just wanted to see my bestie, it’s been a while”, he smiled softly, poking her side. It really had been a while, (Y/N) really couldn’t remember the last time Steve looked at her happily. It gave her a sense of comfort to see him so cheerful. “It really has- I’d hate to cut this short, but I really have to get some errands done, but I’ll see you at the party tomorrow?”, “Definitely! I’ll see you then”, he bid her goodbye, kissing her on the cheek. Her hands grazed her cheek, touching where he just kissed. “Oh and Henderson! Let’s hangout sometime, yeah?”, he shouted to her, “That’d be great!”.

Before heading to the parking lot, she stopped at the bathroom to wash the paint off. She checked to see if anyone was there, luckily there wasn’t. The girl really didn’t need anymore dirty looks. She grabbed some paper towels, running them under warm water. While she whipped the paper towel over her face, she took the time to look at herself. What was she doing? Was she really going to let Steve slip away that easily? Billy had just entered her life, and had obviously taken an interest in her. What was the risk of jumping into things too quickly? She couldn’t wait forever. That’s when she decided. (Y/N) was going to allow herself to get lost in the new overwhelming feeling of Billy Hargrove.

(Y/N) drove down the quiet back roads of Hawkins, making her way to the liquor store. If the town wasn’t sketchy enough, having the liquor store away from civilization made it even sketchier. She really didn’t like coming here, the last time (Y/N) came here was for another one of Tina’s parties. It was for the end of the summer, at Lover’s Lake. It was quite the blowout, till Hopper came to shut it down. Fortunately she didn’t get caught that night, her mother would’ve killed her, and she wasn’t about to spend the night in jail.

Now, (Y/N) wanted to give the cashier an offer he couldn’t refuse. The process was simple, bat her eyelashes, show plenty of cleavage, talk innocently, and then figure out how to put two fucking kegs in the side car of her motorcycle! She glanced down at the outfit she was wearing, a simple low-cut red t-shirt with some high rise acid wash jeans, and a leather jacket. The leather jacket could go. She strutted to the counter of the store, knowing they held the kegs in the back storage, it was time to turn on the charm. Borris, the regular cashier, was in his late 60’s, and she absolutely hated the way he looked at her. It made her feel grose, but she wasn’t about to let Tina down.

Boris contentedly stared her down, obviously checking her out. On the inside, she shivered, but she kept on a smile. “Anything I can do for you pretty lady?”, he asked, grinning. “Yes, I was wondering if you can hook me up with a few kegs? ‘You see I got this party tomorrow, up in Indianapolis! It’s a big college thing, ‘can’t have a good time without alcohol”, that oughta convince him. “Sure thing sweets, I’ll grab some for you, how many shall it be?”. He didn’t even ask her for her ID! “Two will be just fine! Thank you so much!”. He brought them up to the counter, shit those look heavy, she thought. “How much does it come to?”, (Y/N) asked. “Oh, on the house, anything for a pretty girl looking to have a good time”, score! He almost offered to help bring them out- till a familiar voice cut in.

“It’s no problem Boris, I’ll help her out, just grab me a pack of cigs mhm?”, Billy Hargrove, of course. “Your usual William?”, questioned Boris. “That’ll be just fine”. (Y/N) was stunned. Did it just happen to be a coincidence that he walked through the door? More like a sign. He took hold of one of the kegs, while she grabbed the other. They both headed outside.

“Stalking me, Hargrove?”, she smirked. “Absolutely not! I just happened to need more cigarettes, and I noticed a familiar Harley Davidson, don’t flatter yourself”, he placed the keg down, lighting a cigarette. “Sure...and you deliberately wanted to help me with the kegs?”, “The guys a creep! I’m sure you didn’t want to be around him any longer”, he huffed, blowing smoke from his lips. “Aww, you protecting me Hargrove? That’s cute!”, she giggled.

Even though Billy hated to admit it, he loved when she laughed. She ignited this glow that was hard to describe- though, it made him feel warm. It made him feel good. When he arrived here, his goal was to sleep with nearly every girl who made eyes at him, he’d make a list, and then he’d check it off one by one. That all changed when he saw her. She was different, she had this spark that came with her quick wit that left him wanting more. Was he going to tell her that? No, not yet, but it seems his “friendship” with her was growing quicker than he expected.

“I’m not protecting you..just-shut up”, why was he getting so flustered? This was so unlike him. “Whatever Hargrove, just help me load these into my sidecar will yah?”, she struggled to hold the keg. “Sweetheart, are you sure those will fit in there?’, he questions, looking at her struggling. “You got any better ideas?”, she groaned impatiently. In fact- Hargrove did have an idea, whether she’d agree, he really didn’t know.

“Here me out- you and I both know those aren’t going to hold in there, and I know why you need them, so why don’t I stash them in the Camaro, and you and I can go to the party together?”, he offered, waiting eagerly for her response. She hesitantly looked down at the kegs, and then back up at him. “Billy- are you sure? I don’t want you going through all that trouble, what if your parent’s found them?”, she questioned worriedly, biting her lip. “My parents won’t notice a damn thing, if they even touch my car- it’s their dead body on my hands”, he laughed, though she could see his shoulders tense up, the question had obviously bothered him. “Well alright then...let’s load them into your trunk”.

Once the kegs were in, Billy closed his car trunk tightly. Smiling at (Y/N) he took another puff of his cigarette, leaning against the back of his car. “So what are you going as?”, he wondered, staring at her. (Y/N) had spaced out, not really getting what he meant. “What do you mean?”, she asked. “For the Halloween party, what’s your costume?”, “Oh! I'm going as Sarah Connor from the new Terminator movie?”, she explained, wondering if he’d heard of it. “Nice, I was told that movie was supposed to be good”. Why did this conversation feel so awkward? “It really was, I went to go see it with my little brother”, she grinned.

“You got a little sibling- me too, well step sister, but that doesn’t matter”, he muttered the last bit, inhaling more of his cigarette. “Do you two get along?”, she questioned, “No-not really-just, can we change the subject?!”, he raised his voice slightly, startling her a bit. He really didn’t want to talk about his family. ‘I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to pry- I should go-”, she whispered, heading back to her motorcycle. (Y/N) turned on her heel, flinching when she felt Billy take a slight hold on her wrist. “Wait- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to startle you”, his words were shaky, as he kept his grip on her wrist. She slipped his hand off her wrist, staring at him blankly. (Y/N) wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to say at this moment. “It’s just- when I moved here, I wanted to start fresh and the idea of my family just-it makes it hard”, he says sharply. “I just don’t like talking about it”.

(Y/N) nodded her head slightly, she didn’t really know what Billy went through when he moved to Hawkins, and whatever it was, seemed to trigger him. In a way, (Y/N) knew what it felt like. She and her family moved to Indiana in 1979, when she just started middle school. It was hard to adjust, and Hawkins was a lot different from her last home. They left because her father had walked out on them. Though it was traumatic, it wasn’t like he was a very good dad. He’d come home late from work, usually drunk and angry. (Y/N) still had scars from when he beat her. It made her insides twitch, shivering at the thought of the still present stitches on her back. The night she got them, her father had been particularly cheesed off, luckily her mom and Dustin weren’t home. Her mother was having a well deserved ‘ladies night’ while her brother was at a sleepover.

The night started off calmly, (Y/N) had been contently listening to records in her room while her father was watching football down the hall. She knew he had been drinking, she never saw him without alcohol in his hands. That’s why she didn’t drink that much, she’d hate to turn out like him. Her door was locked, to make sure he wouldn’t come in. She cringed when she heard glass shatter in the other room, footsteps slowly approaching her door. She hopped out of her bed, muttering ‘fuck-fuck-fuck’, under her breath. At this point she had gotten scared. Her dad knocked harshly on her door, “(Y/N), you better fucking open this door, or I’ll knock it down myself”- he yelled, voice booming. That’s when she realized. I’ll go out the window. (Y/N) quietly opened the window latch, slipping through the frame. Luckily her house was only one story, so there was no risk of falling.

She thought she had been safe, till her father noticed she escaped from the window. (Y/N) barely had a chance to leave the driveway till her father spotted her, tackling her to the ground. Her chest hit the cold pavement, groaning in pain as her father pinned her wrists to the asphalt. Not getting a chance to notice the kitchen knife in his left hand, he unexpectedly slashed the blade against her back. She wailed as the knife dented her skin, begging for her dad to stop as tears filled her eyes. By chance her mother had entered the driveway before her father could do anymore damage. (Y/N) never understood why her mom didn’t call 9-1-1, just simply drove her to the hospital to get stitches. It was probably out of fear, and it was only a few nights after the incident that he disappeared. When Dustin found out what happened, even with only being eight years old at the time, she swore he was ready to kill him.

When she stared back at him, she had a sympathetic look in her eyes. “It’s okay B, just- if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here”. He smiled slightly at the small nickname, looking at her softly, “Thanks, no one’s really offered that before”. He scratched his neck nervously, lighting out his cigarette. “Hug it out?”, she extended her arms out cheekily. Hug it out? Billy Hargrove didn’t hug it out- but she seemed so sincere- he pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. He couldn’t resist smelling her hair, it smelled almost tropical- like the salty scent of the ocean breeze that reminded him of home. For the first time, Billy felt at peace in this new town. He knew that if she stocked around, he could bring himself to be happy, and as luck would have it, she was planning to.

Next Chapter: smile-in-the-face-of-tragedy

Authors Note: The time has come and the first chapter is here! I hope you guys enjoyed, feedback is greatly appreciated 😊! If anyone else wants to be in the tag-list, feel free to comment below!

Tag-list: @holychocopie

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 5 years ago

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I just found my gen 1 iPod shuffle while going through an old box, and here’s every song that 12-year-old me listened to.

Crazy Frog (right out the gate, I am not proud of this)

Blue, Da Be Dee Da Ba Die

Superstition

Year 3000 (Jonas Brothers cover)

Year 3000 (Busted original)

Yoda (I downloaded this song before I’d ever even seen a Star Wars movie)

Welcome to the Black Parade (classic)

I Melt With You (Bowling for Soup cover, from Sky High, the most ambitious superhero movie Disney has ever made)

Little Less Sixteen Candles

Jimmy Neutron theme (Bowling for Soup cover)

Gilligan’s Island theme (Bowling for Soup cover; I don’t know why I have this one)

High school never ends (Bowling for Soup; there’s nothing more depressing than a bunch of 30-and-40-something white dudes singing about high school)

Rockin Robin (not the Jackson 5 version; I had to look this up, apparently it’s a cover by Megan Joy Corkrey, the 9th place finalist on American Idol Season 8. 2009, it was a simpler time.)

Polkarama

Polka Power

Hooked on Polka (I loved me them Weird Al Polka medleys)

American Idiot

Canadian Idiot (for a time, I wanted to download all of Weird Al’s parodies as well as the originals so I could compare and contrast)

Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

Stadium Rave (from the Spongebob Squarepants “Yellow Album”)

When Worlds Collide (Spongebob)

Gary Come Home (Spongebob)

The Campfire Song Song (Spongebob)

Underwater Sun (Spongebob ; I promise you, there’s a reason I had all these Spongebob songs. I’ll explain in just a second)

Do the Sponge (Spongebob)

Ripped Pants (Spongebob)

Sweet Victory (Spongebob; and this is the reason. I wanted to download just this song, but it was album exclusive, so I had to buy the whole soundtrack, which included a bunch of other weird ones I didn’t even bother putting on my iPod, like “Hey Mean Mr Bossman,” “You’re Old,” and “Bossy Boots.” This wasn’t even the full version of Sweet Victory, just the minute long sample they used in the episode, including all the cartoon sound effects like Squilliam having a heart attack at the end. I didn’t download the full song until years later; I didn’t know there were other verses)

White and Nerdy (my mom didn’t let me download the original Ridin Dirty)

Punk Rock 101 (Bowling for Soup)

1985 (Man, I just loved Bowling for Soup back then)

Linus and Lucy (my sister downloaded a bunch of Peanuts songs because she auditioned for Snoopy in “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown”)

Will Smith’s Men in Black rap (I had the movie on VHS, and I used to love watching the music video at the end of the credits)

Living La Vida Loca

Lovin, Touchin,Squeezin (my mom and used to listen to Journey’s Greatest Hits on CD in the car all the time, and this was my favorite)

Crazy Frog, We are the Champions (I am even less proud of this one)

The Devil Went Down to Georgia

Amish Paradise

Gangsta’s Paradise (I don’t think my mom knew I downloaded this one)

Say hey, I love you (I don’t remember downloading this one)

How Far is Heaven? (Los Lonely Boys)

Do You Like Waffles? (I am actively ashamed of this one. This is peak early-2000s early-YouTube tween culture, and I cringe at the memories. This was the funniest shit we’d ever heard back then)

It’s the End of the World as We Know it (To this day it’s my favorite REM song, and I first heard it in the movie “Tommy Boy,” which is objectively terrible, but it’s been a guilty pleasure of mine since I was a little kid. My sister’s friends showed it to her, and she showed it to me; this is not a kid’s movie, I do not know why my parents thought it was okay to let us watch it so often)

The Galaxy Song by Monty Python (I didn’t even watch Monty Python growing up, I have no idea where this came from, I didn’t get into their movies until high school)

Ebay

I want it that way (TELL ME WHY!)

I don’t know what this says about me, but it sure says something.

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

Text

❀ weakness | “it wasn’t like that” “then what was it?” feat. akaashi keiji

⇢ day 9 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: being with akaashi keiji, the vocalist of your favorite band, was a dream come true for you. however, he soon becomes far too out of reach.

⇢ a/n: i really love thinking of main vocalist!akaashi and i’m so glad i got to incorporate it into an angstcember fic :D

⇢ pairing: akaashi keiji x f!reader

⇢ word count: 2.5k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

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the thing about falling for musicians and band members was that there was always going to be a distance between you two. there was the physical distance between stage and audience, and the fact that no matter how many times you showed up at their gigs and screamed about being their fans, you were never really ‘close’ to them.

needless to say, you didn’t really care about all that when you first watched akaashi keiji, the main vocalist of a student band, sing onstage in the local bar that everyone in university visited on friday nights. he didn’t look that much different from the other band vocalists you’ve seen with his curly, brown hair, white t-shirt and jeans, and dark eyes lined with black that always fluttered shut whenever he sang. no, it was the way he sang that caught your attention. his voice a beautiful tenor that drew out every syllable of the lyrics. it was as if akaashi was the siren and the crowds formed the dangerous waves that pulled you in close.

the stage lights illuminated the shine of his skin, making him look almost ethereal. the boundary between you and the stage felt even greater even though you were in the very front of the crowd. but when akaashi’s eyes fluttered open to survey the crowd, they landed on yours.

and somehow, it felt as if the distance between you two had been bridged.

...

ever since that night, you had signed yourself up to be their band’s full-time fan. you followed their social media and marked down your calendar to show up at every single gig. always, always, you made it a point to make your way to the front of the audience whenever they played. even though they were still a local band that was pretty much under the radar, you still knew that meeting them in person would take some time.

or so you thought.

“hey.”

the all-too familiar voice made you stop in your tracks as you left the bar to hurry back to your dorm. blinking with surprise, you turned around to find akaashi keiji himself leaning against the wall outside the bar with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. you thought you were dreaming, but he was looking right at you.

“you’re the girl who always shows up at our gigs here, right?”

“i... um, yeah!” you nodded, trying to smooth your hair as much as you could as you inched closer to him. “i... really like your music,” you smiled shyly. up close, akaashi keiji looked even more beautiful under the dim lights. the liner around his eyes looked perfectly smudged and you noticed a few piercings in his left ear.

“i’m glad,” akaashi smiled, shuffling his feet. “it’s... comforting, you know? to see a regular fan. most of the time we’re not even sure if people are going to show up.”

“tons of people do,” you said.

“but none quite like you,” akaashi narrowed his eyes at you before his lips turned up in a slight smile. “um, i feel like it would be too presumptuous of me to ask this but, would you like an autograph?”

“y-yes! definitely!” you nodded a bit too excitedly. akaashi chuckled and searched his pockets.

“i think i have a pen here somewhere...”

“oh, hold on...” you searched your purse for anything he could write on, only to come up with a few paper napkins that you always kept with you. “all i have is this, though.”

“well, same here,” akaashi said, lifting the only writing instrument he had on him: an eyeliner pencil. you couldn’t help but stare in wonder as akaashi carefully signed the paper napkin before handing it back to you.

“figured i should do something nice on behalf of the band for our number one fan before we officially disband,” akaashi smiled.

“d-disband? what? why?” you stammered.

“it’s not official yet, i haven’t told the guys about it,” akaashi rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “but, i’ve been thinking that it’s for the best. sure, being in the band is fun but very few actually make it. konoha-san, bokuto-san, and washio-san, they trust me so they’ll believe whatever i say but i don’t want to lead them on, you know?”

“but you guys are amazing!” you protested. “i mean, sure it’s different from mainstream music and all but the lyrics that you have are straight-up poetry and don’t even get me started on the music...”

“you... think my lyrics are poetry?” akaashi looked at you with wide eyes.

“i mean... of course they are,” you said softly. “but, what i’m saying is i believe in you guys. take it from your number fan, why don’t you?” you pleaded one last time. akaashi looked down at the ground, appearing to mull it over, before smiling and nodding.

“alright then. i’ll give it a few more months.”

“you will?”

“but, if nothing happens by then. i’m afraid we’ll have to say our goodbye’s.”

“that won’t happen,” you shook your head. “i just know it.” you carefully folded the napkin with your precious autograph and placed it inside your wallet. “i’ll be seeing you in more gigs, akaashi keiji.” with a wave, you turned around and walked away.

“wait!”

you stopped again and turned around. akaashi looked, nervous, for some reason as he stuffed his hands in his pockets again. finally, he asked.

“would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”

...

you never thought you would actually be able to get to know akaashi keiji beyond the version of him he presented onstage. in the mornings, he attended class, writing song lyrics in the margins of his notebook, and worked part-time at the library. he liked drinking his coffee black and adding a few drops of lavender oil in his laundry so he slightly smelled like it. and knowing this bits of information made it even more wonderful to watch akaashi sing onstage.

true to what you said, something did happen within the few months that you convinced him not for them to disband.

“an invitation to play in the university fair? this is huge!” bokuto, the band’s drummer hooted. you watched with a warm smile on your face as you watched the band members you grew to know and love hug each other. from across the room, akaashi caught your eye before gesturing with his head to head outside.

“what did i tell you?” you grinned smugly when the two of you were alone.

“i know, i know. thank you very much for convincing me to keep the band together,” akaashi smiled at you.

“you can count always count on me to get your hopes up.”

“you have supported our band since the beginning,” akaashi bit his lip as his eyes flickered to the side. “and, i truly appreciate that but... i was wondering if you could support me a bit more... personally.”

“what? of course i will,” you nodded.

“no, i mean,” akaashi paused, inhaled deeply, before continuing. “y/n... i was wondering if you would like to be my girlfriend.”

be his girlfriend?

how could you say no?

“akaashi, of course!” you laughed, flinging your arms around his neck. akaashi’s breath tickled your ear as he pulled you close.

“i’m glad, y/n. i’m so glad,” he smiled, looking down at you. you may have started out watching akaashi from afar, but you had made it closer to him.

...

“there can’t be anything better...” akaashi sang as he played a few chords on the piano, trying out a few different ways to sing the line before settling on a progression that he liked and writing it down. his hair was a mess and he was dressed only in his pajama pants because he headed straight for the stand piano in your bedroom after rolling out of bed.

“i like the second one more,” you said out loud, watching him from where you lay on the bed.

“really?” akaashi cocked his head, playing the chords and singing it again. “hmm... maybe i could have it for the bridge?”

“definitely! and you can make konoha insert a cool guitar riff right there,” you added.

“are you sure you don’t want to be credited in the album?” akaashi looked at you with a sideways smile.

“i’m not that ready for fame,” you teased.

“ït’s literally just our second release. it’s not one to hit the charts just yet,” akaashi shook his head.

“you wanna bet?” you smirked.

“maybe not yet.” akaashi scooted over the piano bench and patted the space next to him. “come, sit here.”

giggling, you left the bed to sit beside him. you loved watching his songwriting process up close, how his thoughts just stringed the perfect words together and coming up with the most amazing melody to compliment it. you loved the sound of his voice, whether it was slightly husky in the morning or as smooth as silk after he drank the tea you’d brew for him, and how his fingers danced over the ivory keys.

“there can’t be anything better than, waking up together when the sunlight hits your face just right...” akaashi sang before pausing. “well, that’s all i got for now.”

“it sounds beautiful,” you sighed.

“that’s because it comes from personal experience,” akaashi smiled, turning to place a kiss on your forehead.

“oh, so am i your muse now?” you teased.

“no,” akaashi scoffed, absentmindedly playing a tune on the piano. “muses are people artists abandon when they’re no longer inspired by them. you,” akaashi grabbed your chin and kissed you on the mouth. “are more than that.”

...

just as you predicted, akaashi’s band grew to success in its own time. the title track of the third album was a hit success, much to akaashi and everyone else in the band’s surprise. they had offers to play on radio shows, to live studio sessions, and then soon, they were able to cut a deal with a record label for their next album. it was the life you knew akaashi had always wanted and you couldn’t be happier for your boyfriend.

you had always known that there was something captivating about akaashi, whether he was on or offstage. he grew to be popular among women and men alike and you just had to be comfortable with it. despite all that, akaashi liked to remind his fans that he already had a girlfriend. he never forgot to dedicate the songs he wrote about you on live or recorded performances and in interviews, he liked to blow a kiss at the camera just for you.

as the band’s number one fan, you still made it a point to attend all of their performances but this time, you weren’t at the very front of the crowd. you were farther now, watching akaashi sing onstage from the VIP section. the view was good but you were much farther now and for some reason, you felt uncomfortable about this.

turns out, it was a prelude to something much worse.

the distance between you and akaashi grew. the band was offered a chance to go on-tour so your boyfriend was constantly caught up in band practices, interviews, and composing new music in the recording studio. your calls with him were always cut short by his manager needing his attention. he even stopped his usual practice of dedicating songs to you.

most nights, you lay in your empty, shared bedroom or absentmindedly played the abandoned piano, wishing you could go back to those days when akaashi was always there when you woke up.

...

“y/n... you’re here!” konoha greeted you just outside the recording studio’s door.

“yeah, i wanted to surprise him,” you chuckled, holding up the box of the birthday cake you had brought. for some reason, konoha’s smile faltered at the sight of the birthday cake. “is... keiji here? did he just leave?” you asked, trying to look over konoha’s shoulder.

“y/n...” konoha paused, evidently struggling with what he was going to say. watching him formed an anxious pit in your stomach. “shit... i-i can’t keep lying to you.”

“konoha... what’s going on?” your hands trembled as they held onto the cake box as the voices from inside the studio grew louder.

“akaashi, you said it would be the last time! we can’t keep covering for you.”

“think about how y/n would feel?”

“let me through! let me through!” you exclaimed, pushing past konoha and into the recording studio room.

nothing could prepare you for what you what you were looking at. now, you understood why those ‘recording studio sessions’ would end up late into the night and why akaashi’s manager, a beautiful young woman who always made you feel less put-together, always looked smug around you.

“keiji...” your voice shook as you watched your boyfriend shift his gaze guiltily to the floor. “how could you...?”

“it-it wasn’t like that--”

“then what was it?” you practically screamed.

“look, you don’t know what it’s like dealing with all of this,” akaashi rubbed the back of his head. “all the stress and expectations and having to come up with new material--”

“you could have come to me! i’m right here, i’ve always been right here,” you bit your lip and asked what you were afraid to know. “how long has this been going on?”

akaashi shifted uncomfortably. “...a few months.”

you turned to look at bokuto who had been standing awkwardly in the side of the room since you came in. “how long?”

“longer than that,” bokuto murmured. “sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”

“i can’t believe you,” you shook your head, slamming the cake down on a nearby table. “happy birthday, by the way.”

“y/n, wait!”

you didn’t give akaashi a chance to explain himself because you’d already seen enough. it was only when you were on a bus on the way home that the sadness started to hit you as sobs escaped from your chest. despite all of this, you missed akaashi terribly. you missed the feeling of his fingers brushing hair from your face in the morning. you missed how he’d wave at you through the glass in the recording studio. you missed hugging him and smelling lavender on his clothes. you missed the soft look in his eyes when he composed a new song dedicated to you.

with the tears running down your face, you searched through your purse for something to wipe your eyes only to come across the edge of the napkin inside your wallet. you pulled it out to find the autograph from akaashi, the very first one he ever gave to anyone, and immediately remembered that night when you two first talked.

‘to my number one fan: i hope i’ll always get to see your face in the front-row’

the thing about falling for musicians and band members was that there was always going to be a distance between you two. at first, you thought you and akaashi had managed to close that distance, only for you to end up even farther than you ever were.

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